When my sister, Stacy, took my husband while I was pregnant, I felt like my whole world had been shattered. It seemed like she always thought she was better than me, and in the end, she got what she wanted. But life has a funny way of turning things around. When everything fell apart for her, she came to me, begging for my help.
Growing up, I had always been in second place. No matter how hard I tried, it felt like I was never enough for my parents. I got straight A’s, kept my room spotless, and did everything I could to make them proud.
But none of that mattered. Stacy, my younger sister, was their shining star. While I quietly succeeded in school and did chores without being asked, Stacy was winning awards and breaking records at swim meets. My parents treated her like a celebrity, showering her with attention while I felt invisible.
The only person who ever truly saw me was my grandmother. She would often take me to her home, and for the first time, I felt warmth and love—things I didn’t feel much at my own house.
In many ways, she was the one who raised me. I spent weekends and summers with her, learning how to cook, watching old movies, and feeling like I mattered.
When I graduated from high school, my parents didn’t even pretend to care. They told me it was time for me to be on my own.
It was my grandmother who helped me move into my college dorm after I earned a scholarship.
That scholarship was my ticket out. Once I turned 18, I refused to take any more money from my grandmother. She had done more than enough for me. When I landed a good job after graduation, I was proud to finally give back to her.
Now, I was married to Henry. But my grandmother had never liked him. She often told me that something about him didn’t seem right, but I believed he loved me.
Recently, though, my grandmother had been feeling unwell. I knew I had to visit her, so I drove to her house with a heavy heart.
We sat at her kitchen table, sipping tea. She stirred hers slowly, her eyes fixed on the cup. Then, she looked up and asked, “Are you still with Henry?”
I froze, feeling a lump form in my throat. “Of course,” I said, trying to sound confident. “We’re married.”
Her eyes never left mine. “And his affairs?” she asked, her voice soft but sharp.
I shifted uncomfortably, my heart sinking. “He promised he wouldn’t cheat again,” I said, my voice wavering.
“And you believe him?” she asked gently.
“I’m trying,” I murmured. “He loves me. I have to believe that.” I paused, then added, “I’m pregnant. I want my child to have a father.”
My grandmother didn’t change her expression. “That’s not love, May,” she said softly.
I tried to convince both of us. “He sees me.”
“Then why does he spend so much time with your parents and Stacy?” she asked.
I looked away. “I talk to them too. Just not as much,” I said, trying to brush it off.
“Exactly.” My grandmother sighed deeply. “I don’t want to upset you, but my friend saw Henry and Stacy together. They were at a restaurant.”
My stomach dropped. I felt the room start to spin. “What are you saying?” I asked, my voice trembling.
“Maybe Stacy couldn’t handle you being happy,” she said, her voice low.
“That’s ridiculous!” I snapped, my heart pounding in my chest. “I don’t want to talk about this!” I grabbed my bag and stood up. “I’m leaving.”
I could hear her voice behind me, calm but filled with concern. “May, sweetheart, I’m only trying to help,” she said.
But I was already gone.
As I drove home, anger surged inside me. My grandmother had crossed a line. How could she say something so hurtful? Henry had made mistakes, but he was trying. And Stacy? She was selfish, but she wouldn’t go this far.
I pulled into the driveway, took a deep breath, and stepped out of the car. But something felt wrong the moment I walked in the door. I heard soft, muffled noises coming from upstairs.
My heart raced as I climbed the stairs. My hands shook as I reached for the bedroom door. I threw it open—and froze.
There, in my bed, were Henry and Stacy.
Tears welled up in my eyes. I couldn’t move. The world seemed to stop.
Henry was the first to react. His eyes widened in panic as he scrambled to put on his clothes.
“May! What are you doing here?!” Henry shouted, his voice full of fear.
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. “What am I doing in my own house?!” I screamed.
“You were supposed to be at your grandmother’s!” Henry barked, trying to get dressed.
“That’s all you have to say?” I shouted, my heart shattering. “I just caught you in bed with my sister, and that’s your excuse?”
Stacy sat up in bed, a smirk spreading across her face. “So what?” she said coolly. “I’m better than you. I always have been. No wonder Henry realized it too.”
My blood boiled. “How dare you!” I yelled at her.
“But it’s true,” Henry said, his voice cold. “Stacy is prettier. She always looks good, wears makeup, and stays in shape.”
I was shaking with fury. “And she doesn’t work!” I shot back.
“Having a job doesn’t matter,” Henry said dismissively. “And let’s be honest, you’ve gained weight.”
I gasped, my stomach dropping. “Because I’m pregnant! With your child!” I screamed.
Henry’s face hardened. “I don’t know if that’s true,” he said. “Stacy and I talked. I’m not sure the baby is mine.”
I couldn’t breathe. “Are you kidding me? You’ve been the one cheating on me over and over!”
“Maybe you cheated too,” Henry said, crossing his arms, trying to act like the victim.
“Yeah, right!” Stacy chimed in, her voice full of satisfaction.
“Shut up!” I yelled at her, shaking with rage.
“She can say whatever she wants,” Henry said. “I’m done with this. I’m filing for divorce.”
“Are you serious?!” I screamed.
“Yes. Pack your things and leave by tonight,” Henry said coldly. “The house is in my name.”
I scoffed, wiping away my tears. “We’ll see how long you last without me,” I said, turning to Stacy. “Just so you know, he’s been unemployed for six months. He can’t even find a job.”
Stacy sneered. “He still bought me expensive gifts.”
“I wonder whose money he used!” I shot back.
I grabbed my bags, stuffing clothes inside, and by evening, I was gone. I had nowhere else to go.
My heart was shattered as I drove to the only place I knew I’d be safe. I rang the bell at my grandmother’s house.
When she opened the door, I couldn’t hold back the tears. “You were right,” I whispered, my voice breaking.
She pulled me into her arms. “There, there, everything will be fine,” she said gently, stroking my hair.
Henry and I divorced, and he took everything—the house, the furniture, even some things I had bought myself. All I had left was my car. But I didn’t care. I was just glad to be free from him. My grandmother was the only one who stood by me through everything.
She gave me a place to stay and made sure I didn’t feel alone. I was incredibly grateful for her love and support.
One evening, as I was folding laundry, my grandmother came into the room with a serious look on her face. She sat beside me and took my hand. “May, we need to talk,” she said softly.
My heart sank. “What happened?” I whispered.
She took a deep breath. “I didn’t want to tell you, but I guess I have to,” she said gently. “When I started feeling unwell, the doctor said I only had a few years left.”
I froze. “What?…” I whispered, my throat tight with emotion.
“I didn’t say anything because I thought I had more time,” she said, her voice soft. “But now… the doctor says I only have a few months.”
Tears filled my eyes. “No… this can’t be happening,” I said, my voice breaking.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered, stroking my hair. “I won’t be able to meet your great-grandchild.”
“Please, Grandma,” I begged, hugging her tightly. “Promise me you’ll live long enough to see him. Please, promise me you’ll meet him.”
She stroked my hair gently, her voice full of sadness. “I can’t promise that, sweetie. I can’t make promises I’m not sure I can keep.”
With each passing day, my grandmother grew weaker. I could see it in her eyes, the way her hands trembled. I tried to spend as much time with her as I could, stopping work and focusing on being there for her. I cooked her favorite meals, cleaned the house, and made sure she felt loved and cared for.
One day, I asked her, “Grandma, do you like this color for the nursery?” holding up some fabric samples.
She smiled softly. “The blue one. It’s calm and peaceful.”
We took short walks when she was strong enough. We watched our favorite shows, laughing at the same jokes we’d heard hundreds of times. 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.
She never got to meet her great-grandson. Losing her shattered me, but I had to stay strong for my baby. I couldn’t let my grief affect him.
At the funeral, I saw my family for the first time in a long time. My parents, Stacy, and even Henry were there.
Stacy didn’t look like herself. Her face was pale, and her eyes were empty. She seemed drained, worn out.
After the service, we gathered in the living room 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 hadn’t expected my grandmother to leave me everything. My family erupted in anger. My parents fought. Stacy threw a tantrum. Even Henry had something to say. The noise was overwhelming, and I felt dizzy. The lawyer quickly ushered them out.
With my grandmother’s inheritance, I could take maternity leave without worry. But I didn’t want to waste her money. I knew she would want me to stay strong and keep working.
Not long after the funeral, someone rang my doorbell. When I opened it, I saw Stacy. She looked even worse than she had at the funeral.
“What do you want?” I asked flatly.
“Can I come in?” Stacy asked softly, avoiding my gaze.
“Say what you need here,” I said, not letting her in.
“I need your help,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “I need money.”
I crossed my arms. “Why should I help you?”
“Henry still hasn’t found a job,” she said, tears welling up in her eyes. “We lost the house because of the debts. Now we’re living with our parents… and he’s cheating on me.”
“That was your choice, Stacy,” I said, my voice calm but firm. “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, her voice cracking. “Please… maybe you could let us stay with you? You have more space than our parents.”
I blinked, completely stunned. “Do you hear yourself? You spent your whole life putting me down, you stole my husband, and now you want my help?”
“Is it that hard for you?!” Stacy snapped.
“You convinced Henry I wasn’t carrying his child,” I said firmly. “I need to focus on my son’s future, not yours.”
Stacy’s eyes filled with tears. “What am I supposed to do?!” she cried.
“You made your choice,” I said, my voice steady. “The best I can do is give you the contact info of a good divorce lawyer. After all, you did save me from Henry.”
“You’re horrible!” Stacy screamed, her face twisted in anger.
I watched her leave without saying another word. My heart was steady, and I felt no guilt. For the first time, I had stood up for myself.
I closed the door behind me and leaned against it. For the first time in so long, I could finally breathe.
I missed my grandmother every day. The house felt empty without her warmth, but I knew she had left me a future. She had taken care of me, and now, I had to take care of my son. I placed my hand on my belly and whispered, “Thank you, Grandma. I’ll make you proud.”
