When my so-called perfect sister stole my husband while I was pregnant, I was shattered. Stacy always believed she was better than me, and this time, she finally got what she wanted. But life has a strange way of balancing the scales. When her world eventually crumbled, she showed up at my door—desperate, broken, and begging for help.
All my life, I had been second best. No matter how hard I tried, it was never enough for my parents. I brought home perfect grades, kept my room immaculate, and did everything in my power to earn their pride.
But it was never enough. Stacy, my younger sister, was their golden girl. While I quietly succeeded, she broke swim records and collected all the praise.
They treated her like a star. Every moment was spent cheering her on, gushing over her achievements. Meanwhile, I was invisible.
The only person who truly saw me was my grandmother. In her tiny, warm kitchen, I found the love and attention I never had at home. She practically raised me, teaching me to cook, watching classic films with me, and reminding me that I mattered.
When I graduated high school, my parents didn’t even pretend to be proud. They kicked me out, saying I was on my own. My grandmother was the one who helped me move into my college dorm after I earned a scholarship—my one ticket out.
Once I turned eighteen, I stopped accepting help from her. She had already done too much. When I graduated and got a good job, I felt proud to finally give back.
Eventually, I married Henry. My grandmother never trusted him. She always said something about him didn’t feel right, but I insisted she was being overly cautious—that he loved me.
Then her health began to fail. Every visit to her house filled me with dread. She needed me now, just like I had always needed her.
One afternoon, we sat at the table sipping tea. She looked up from her cup and asked gently, “Are you still with Henry?”
My hands clenched around my mug. “Of course,” I said casually.
Her eyes stayed on mine. “And what about his affairs?”
The words struck me like a blow. “He promised he’d changed,” I whispered. “He says he loves me.”
She looked at me with quiet sadness. “That’s not love, May.”
“He sees me,” I pleaded.
“Then why does he spend so much time with your parents and Stacy?”
I looked away. “I speak to them too. Just… not as much.”
She sighed. “I don’t want to hurt you, but… a friend saw Henry and Stacy together. At a restaurant.”
My heart dropped. “What are you saying?”
“Maybe Stacy couldn’t stand seeing you happy.”
“That’s ridiculous!” I snapped, grabbing my bag and storming out. Her voice followed me gently: “I’m only trying to help, sweetheart.”
I drove home in a storm of fury. How could she say something like that? Sure, Henry had made mistakes—but he was trying. And Stacy? Selfish, yes—but not that evil… or so I thought.
I got home and sensed something was off. Quiet footsteps upstairs. My heart pounded as I climbed the stairs.
I opened the bedroom door.
There they were.
Henry and Stacy. In my bed.
Everything inside me shattered.
“May! What are you doing here?!” Henry shouted, scrambling to get dressed.
“What am I doing in my own house?!” I screamed, tears streaming down my face.
“You were supposed to be with your grandmother!” he barked.
“That’s your excuse?!”
Stacy sat up calmly. “I’ve always been better than you. Henry finally saw it.”
“You’re disgusting!” I shouted.
Henry glared. “Stacy takes care of herself. She wears makeup. She stays in shape.”
“She doesn’t even have a job!” I fired back.
“That doesn’t matter. You’ve gained weight.”
I put a hand on my belly. “Because I’m pregnant! With your child!”
Henry sneered. “I don’t even know if that baby’s mine.”
“Are you insane?! You’re the one who’s been cheating!”
“Maybe you cheated too,” he shrugged.
“Shut up!” I yelled at Stacy.
“She can say whatever she wants,” Henry said coldly. “I’m done. I’m filing for divorce. Be out by tonight. The house is in my name.”
Through tears, I laughed bitterly. “Let’s see how long you last without me. Henry hasn’t had a job in six months. He’s been living off me.”
“He still bought me gifts,” Stacy smirked.
“Yeah? With whose money?”
I packed in silence, numb, and left.
I drove to my grandmother’s house—my true home. When she saw me, I collapsed into her arms. “You were right,” I whispered.
We divorced. Henry took everything—the house, the furniture, even things I’d bought. All I had left was my car. But I didn’t care. I was finally free.
One evening, as I folded laundry, my grandmother sat beside me and took my hand.
“May,” she said softly. “The doctors say… it might only be a few more months.”
“No,” I whispered, breaking down. “Please, no… promise me you’ll meet him. Promise me you’ll hold your great-grandson.”
“I can’t promise what I can’t keep,” she said, holding me tight.
I stayed close to her every day. Cooked her favorites. Showed her baby clothes. We chose a blue nursery color together. We laughed. We cried. She was my anchor.
She passed away when I was eight months pregnant. She never got to hold him. Losing her nearly destroyed me. But I stayed strong for my son.
At her funeral, I saw my family for the first time in ages. Stacy looked pale and hollow. During the reading of the will, the lawyer said, “Everything goes to May and her child. ‘For always being there.’”
Chaos erupted. My parents screamed. Stacy cried hysterically. Henry protested. I just sat there, protecting my belly, silent and stunned.
The inheritance gave me enough to take time off work and prepare for the baby. But I used it wisely—exactly how Grandma would’ve wanted.
Then, the doorbell rang.
It was Stacy. She looked wrecked. “Can I come in?” she asked quietly.
“Say what you need to say.”
“I need your help. We lost the house. Henry’s cheating. We’re living with Mom and Dad.”
“You made your choice,” I replied coldly. “You thought you were better than me. Now you want a place in my home?”
“Is it really that hard for you?!”
“You convinced Henry my baby wasn’t his. You ruined my life. Now I’m focused on his future, not yours.”
“What am I supposed to do?!”
“Live with your choices. I’ll give you the name of a divorce lawyer. After all, you did me a favor—saving me from Henry.”
“You’re horrible!” she screamed.
“Think about what you did to me. Then tell me who’s really horrible.”
“I’m not leaving Henry!” she yelled, and stormed off.
I shut the door and felt only peace.
The house was quieter without Grandma, but I knew she’d given me more than an inheritance—she gave me freedom. And a new beginning.
I placed a hand on my belly and whispered, “Thank you, Grandma. I’ll make you proud.”