My Relatives Started Complaining about My Wifes Meals at Our Monthly Family Dinners, So We Decided to Secretly Test Them

My wife Megan put her heart into our family’s monthly dinners, but all she ever got in return were hurtful comments from my relatives. After seeing her in tears one too many times, I set up a secret test to uncover the truth behind their constant criticism. What I discovered left me heartbroken. Our family has long held a tradition of monthly dinners, a practice that started when my dad was a child. My grandmother would gather her siblings over home-cooked meals, which helped keep their bond strong. As Dad and his siblings grew up, they carried on the tradition,… My wife Megan put her heart into our family’s monthly dinners, but all she ever got in return were hurtful comments from my relatives. After seeing her in tears one too many times, I set up a secret test to uncover the truth behind their constant criticism. What I discovered left me heartbroken. Our family has long held a tradition of monthly dinners, a practice that started when my dad was a child. My grandmother would gather her siblings over home-cooked meals, which helped keep their bond strong. As Dad and his siblings grew up, they carried on the tradition, inviting each other to dinner every month. My siblings and I used to look forward to these nights, eager to spend time with our cousins. These weren’t just regular dinners; my dad would decorate the house, and my mom made sure to prepare at least three different dishes. I still remember how Dad once ordered pizza for the kids, and it turned into one of the most fun evenings we ever had. Now that my siblings and I are grown, we’ve continued this tradition. A few months ago, my older sister Angela hosted dinner at her place, and she made an incredible chicken pie. Even Megan loved it. Since we all took turns hosting, I had invited my siblings and their families to our home many times. There are usually around 13 or 14 of us when everyone, including my aunt Martha, comes over. Megan was excited to be part of this family tradition from the start, even before we were married. Initially, I did the cooking, but she eventually took over, assuring me that cooking was therapeutic for her. That’s just how Megan is—kind and eager to help. But things changed the day we announced that Megan had cooked the meal. My sister Angela immediately complained that the food was bland, and my brother Dan chimed in, saying the chicken was too dry. My mom added her own critique about the seasoning. Watching Megan’s face fall broke my heart. After all the effort she had put in, they dismissed it so casually. That night, I found Megan crying in our bedroom. She was crushed by their words and told me she didn’t want to cook for them again. I tried to comfort her, praising her cooking, but the damage was done. Yet, I convinced her to give it one more try, thinking things might be different. Megan carefully prepared dishes that she knew my family liked, including roasted chicken for my mom and pasta for Angela. But once again, their harsh critiques stung, even though the food was delicious. I couldn’t understand why they were being so cruel. It wasn’t until I overheard my parents making snide remarks about Megan that I realized something deeper was going on. That’s when I decided to test them. At the next dinner, we pretended that I had cooked everything, when in reality, Megan had prepared the same dishes they’d criticized before. To my shock, they raved about the food, praising me for how delicious everything was. Angela declared it the best pasta she’d ever had, and my mom couldn’t stop talking about how perfectly roasted the chicken was. I knew in that moment that their criticism had nothing to do with the food—it was all about Megan. When I revealed the truth, that Megan had cooked the meal, the room fell silent. My family tried to backtrack, but the damage was done. Megan and I had finally uncovered the truth—they were never going to accept her, no matter how hard she tried. That night, I made a decision. We were done with the monthly dinners. I couldn’t keep exposing Megan to their disrespect. Family traditions meant nothing if they came at the expense of the person I love most. Although my family tried to convince me otherwise, I stood by Megan. She deserved better, and I knew it was time to prioritize the love and support within our own home over outdated traditions. Do you think I made the right choice?