When my perfect sister, Stacy, stole my husband while I was pregnant, I felt completely shattered. It was like a deep wound had been carved into my heart. Stacy had always thought she was better than me. She had everything – beauty, charm, the attention of our parents.
And finally, it seemed like she got what she wanted: my husband, Henry. I couldn’t believe it. It was the ultimate betrayal. But as life often does, it threw me a curveball. When everything fell apart for her, she showed up at my door, begging for help.
All my life, I had been in second place. No matter how hard I tried, I was never enough for my parents. I worked so hard, bringing home straight A’s, keeping my room spotless, and doing everything I could to make them proud. But it didn’t matter. Stacy, my younger sister, was their shining star. While I quietly succeeded in school and took care of everything at home without being asked, Stacy was out there breaking records at swim meets and getting all the attention.
My parents treated her like a celebrity, showering her with praise and focusing all their energy on her success. It made me feel invisible. No matter how much I tried to prove my worth, it was never enough for them.
The only person who truly saw me was my grandmother. She was the one who took me in when I needed it most. I’d spend weekends and summers with her, feeling loved and special in a way I never did at home. She taught me how to cook, we watched old movies together, and for the first time, I felt like I mattered.
When I graduated high school, my parents didn’t even pretend to care. They kicked me out, telling me I was on my own now. But it was my grandmother who helped me move into my college dorm after I earned a scholarship. That scholarship was my escape from the pain and neglect of my family.
Once I turned 18, I refused to take any more money from her. She had done enough for me. When I landed a good job after graduation, I was finally able to give back to her, and I felt proud of that.
Now, I was married to Henry. My grandmother never liked him. She would always say there was something off about him, but I chose to believe he loved me. Lately, though, she had been feeling unwell. I could sense something was wrong, so I made a point to visit her. She needed me now, just as she had always been there for me.
One afternoon, we were sitting at her kitchen table, sipping tea. I watched her slowly stir her cup, her eyes focused on the liquid inside. Finally, she looked up and asked, “Are you still with Henry?”
I froze, feeling the tension rise. “Of course,” I replied, trying to sound confident. “We’re married.”
Her gaze didn’t waver. “And his affairs?”
Her words hit me like a punch. “He promised he wouldn’t cheat again,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper.
“And you believe him?” she asked, her tone soft but firm.
“I’m trying,” I murmured. “He loves me. I have to believe that.” I paused and added, “I’m pregnant. I want my child to have a father.”
My grandmother’s face remained unreadable. “That’s not love, May,” she said gently.
“He sees me,” I insisted, though even I wasn’t sure anymore.
“Then why does he spend so much time with your parents and Stacy?” she asked, her eyes filled with concern.
I shifted uncomfortably. “I talk to them too, just not as much,” I tried to brush it off, but deep down, I knew something wasn’t right.
“Exactly,” she said, letting out a sigh. “I don’t want to upset you, but my friend saw Henry and Stacy together. They were at a restaurant.”
My stomach twisted. “What are you saying?” My voice trembled with disbelief.
“Maybe Stacy couldn’t handle you being happy,” she said softly.
“That’s ridiculous!” I snapped, my voice rising. “I don’t want to talk about this anymore!”
I grabbed my bag and stood up, my heart pounding with anger. As I rushed toward the door, my grandmother’s calm voice stopped me. “May, sweetheart, I’m only trying to help,” she said, but I couldn’t hear her anymore.
I drove home in a fog, anger boiling inside me. How could my grandmother say such a thing? Henry had made mistakes, yes, but he was trying. And Stacy—she wouldn’t stoop that low, would she?
When I stepped inside, something felt off. I heard soft, muffled sounds coming from upstairs, sounds that shouldn’t have been there. My heart raced as I climbed the stairs.
With trembling hands, I reached for the bedroom door and swung it open. There they were—Henry and Stacy—together in my bed.
Tears filled my eyes as I froze in place. For a moment, time seemed to stand still. Henry was the first to notice me. His eyes widened in panic as he jumped out of bed, scrambling to put on his clothes.
“May! What are you doing here?!” Henry shouted, his voice filled with panic.
I could hardly believe my ears. “What am I doing in my own house?!” I screamed, my voice shaking with rage.
“You were supposed to be at your grandmother’s!” Henry barked, desperately pulling on his shirt.
“That’s all you have to say?” I asked, my voice trembling with hurt. “I just caught you in bed with my sister, and that’s your excuse?”
Stacy smirked and sat up in bed, her eyes filled with satisfaction. “So what?” she sneered. “I’m better than you. I always have been. No wonder Henry realized it too.”
My anger flared. “How dare you!” I yelled, my heart breaking.
Henry’s voice was cold and cruel. “Stacy is prettier. She always looks good, wears makeup, and stays in shape.”
“And she doesn’t work!” I snapped back.
“Having a job doesn’t matter,” Henry said, his voice dripping with disdain. “And let’s be honest. You’ve gained weight.”
My stomach dropped. I instinctively touched my belly. “Because I’m pregnant! With your child!” I screamed, my voice breaking.
Henry’s face hardened. “I don’t know if that’s true,” he said, his voice cold. “Stacy and I talked. I’m not sure the baby is mine.”
I felt like I’d been slapped. “Are you kidding me? You’ve been the one cheating on me over and over!”
“Maybe you cheated too,” Henry said, crossing his arms, acting like he was the victim.
“Yeah, right!” Stacy chimed in, her voice dripping with mockery.
“Shut up!” I screamed at her, my hands shaking with fury.
“She can say whatever she wants,” Henry said, his voice final. “I’m done with this. I’m filing for divorce.”
“Are you serious?!” I shouted, my heart pounding in disbelief.
“Yes,” he said coldly. “Pack your things and leave by tonight. The house is in my name.”
I scoffed, wiping my tears away. “We’ll see how long you last without me,” I said, then turned to Stacy. “Just so you know, he’s been unemployed for six months. He can’t even find a job.”
Stacy’s smug grin didn’t falter. “He still bought me expensive gifts,” she said, as if it meant something.
“I wonder whose money he used!” I shot back, my voice thick with disgust.
I packed my things, stuffing clothes into bags, and by evening, I was gone. I had nowhere else to go.
I drove to the only place I knew I’d find safety and comfort—my grandmother’s house. I stood at her door, my heart heavy, and rang the bell. When she opened the door and saw me, I couldn’t hold it in anymore. Tears streamed down my face as I whispered, “You were right.”
She pulled me into her arms. “There, there, everything will be fine,” she said softly, her hands soothing my hair.
Henry and I divorced, and he took everything. The house, the furniture, and even some of the things I had bought myself. All I had left was my car, but I didn’t care. I was free from him. My grandmother was the only one who truly stood by me through everything. She gave me a place to stay, and I never felt alone.
One evening, as I was folding laundry, my grandmother walked into the room. Her face was serious. She sat beside me and took my hand. “May, we need to talk,” she said softly.
My heart sank. “What happened?” I asked, my voice barely a whisper.
“I didn’t want to tell you, but I guess I have to,” she said, her voice filled with sorrow. “When I started feeling unwell, the doctor said I had only a few years left.”
I froze. “What?…” My voice cracked, tears springing to my eyes.
“I didn’t say anything because I thought I had more time,” she said gently. “But now… the doctor says I only have a few months.”
My world seemed to crumble. “No… this can’t be happening,” I whispered.
“Unfortunately, I won’t be able to help you with my great-grandchild,” she said, her voice full of sadness.
“Please, Grandma,” I begged, my voice breaking. “Promise me you’ll live long enough to meet him. Promise me you’ll see him.” Tears streamed down my face as I hugged her tightly.
She stroked my hair, her touch so gentle. “I can’t make promises I’m not sure I can keep,” she whispered.
With each passing day, my grandmother grew weaker. I could see it in her eyes and the way her hands trembled.
I stopped going to the office and started working from home to be close to her. I cooked her favorite meals, even though she barely ate. I cleaned the house and kept things in order, but I made sure she still felt useful. We spent our time together, watching our favorite shows, laughing at the same jokes, and taking short walks when she felt strong enough. She was my strength, and I was hers.
But no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t stop time. My grandmother passed away when I was eight months pregnant.
At the funeral, I saw my family for the first time in a long time. My parents, Stacy, and even Henry were there. Stacy looked worse than ever. Her face was pale, and her eyes seemed hollow.
After the service, we gathered for the reading of my grandmother’s will. I sat quietly, my hands resting on my belly.
“There’s not much to say,” the lawyer began. “Everything is inherited by May and her child, with a note saying, ‘For always being there.’”
I froze. I never imagined my grandmother would leave me everything.
My family exploded in anger. Stacy threw a fit, and my parents argued. Even Henry had something to say. The noise was overwhelming. I felt dizzy. The lawyer noticed and quickly ushered them out.
With my grandmother’s inheritance, I had enough to take maternity leave without worry. But I didn’t want to waste her money. I planned to work as long as I could. I knew she would want me to be strong.
Not long after the funeral, the doorbell rang. I wasn’t expecting anyone.
When I opened the door, I saw Stacy. Her face was pale, and her eyes were red and puffy.
“What do you want?” I asked, my voice flat.
“Can I come in?” she asked, her voice barely a whisper.
“Say what you need here,” I said, crossing my arms.
“I need your help,” she said, her voice trembling. “I need money.”
I stared at her. “Why should I help you?”
“Henry still hasn’t found a job,” she said, her voice breaking. “We lost the house because of debts. Now we’re living with our parents.” She looked down. “And… he’s cheating on me.”
“That was your choice, Stacy,” I said firmly. “You stole my husband because you thought you were better than me. Remember?”
“I didn’t know it would turn out like this,” she whispered.
I shook my head, still in disbelief. “You can’t expect me to help you now. You’ve hurt me too much.”
Stacy’s voice grew desperate. “What am I supposed to do?”
I stood my ground. “You made your choice. The most I can do is give you the contact info of a good divorce lawyer. After all, you did save me from Henry.”
Her face twisted with rage. “You’re horrible!”
I looked at her with a calm I hadn’t felt before. “Think about everything you’ve done to me and then decide who’s really horrible here.”
“I’m not leaving Henry!” she screamed, then stormed away, leaving me standing there.
I watched her go without saying another word. I felt no guilt. I had finally stood up for myself.
I closed the door behind me and leaned against it, breathing a deep sigh. My heart still ached for my grandmother. I missed her every day. The house felt so empty without her warmth and love. But she had taken care of me, and she had given me a future.
I placed my hand on my belly and whispered, “Thank you, Grandma. I’ll make you proud.”
