My wife Megan poured her heart into our family’s monthly dinners, but all she got in return were cruel comments from my relatives. After witnessing her tears one too many times, I set up a secret test to expose the real reason behind their relentless criticism. What I found out left me heartbroken.
Our family has a long-standing tradition of hosting monthly dinners, a custom that dates back to when my dad was a kid. My grandmother started it all by bringing her siblings together over meals, which strengthened their bond.
As Dad and his siblings grew up, they adopted this tradition and invited each other over for dinner every month. I still remember how my siblings and I used to wait for that day each month so we could meet our cousins and have a great time.
Mind you, these weren’t just ordinary family dinners. Dad would go all out with the decorations, while Mom ensured there were at least three dishes on the table.
“Okay, I need to confess something,” I said, grabbing everyone’s attention. “But before that, I just need to confirm you all loved the food, right?”
They all nodded.
“Well, I didn’t cook anything,” I revealed. “This was all Megan’s magic. She cooked this for you all just like she’s been doing it for months.”
The room went silent.
I could see Mom’s face had flushed red with embarrassment, while Angela started focusing on her drink. Meanwhile, Dad tried to cover up, “Well… I mean… it’s just that, maybe she’s gotten better at cooking?”
They all tried to backtrack, but the damage was done. Megan and I finally understood what had been going on all this time.
Later that night, Megan and I were in the bedroom when I apologized to her for everything.
“I’m done with these monthly dinners,” I told her. “This was the last one we hosted, and the last one we’ve attended. I won’t be a part of them anymore if all they want to do is humiliate my wife.”
“But that’s part of your family traditions,” Megan said. “I think you should attend the dinners at least.”
“I don’t care about any tradition now,” I rolled my eyes. “They disrespected you, and I can’t stand that.”
We didn’t attend the next family dinners, and after two months, my parents and siblings started asking questions. I told them outright we weren’t coming back.
“You guys ruined everything by humiliating my wife,” I told Mom one day.
“Seriously, Brandon? You can’t do this!” she yelled at me over the phone. “You’re ruining your relationship with us because of her.”
I hung up, knowing that arguing with her was pointless. My family’s constant complaints made sense now. They weren’t happy with Megan, and Gloria later confirmed it.
“Mom and Angela have always been like that,” she revealed. “They always pretended to like Megan because you wanted to marry her, but the truth is that they never approved of her. They believe she’s too different, that she’s not ‘family enough.’”
Gloria’s words confirmed what I had feared all along, that I had made the right choice in standing by Megan. She deserved better than a family that couldn’t appreciate her for who she was.
As we moved forward, I realized that our little family mattered the most and that the love and support we shared were far more important than outdated traditions or hurtful opinions.
I decided that Megan and I would create our own traditions, ones filled with respect and kindness, where every meal felt like home, no matter who cooked it.
Do you think I did the right thing?