I spent my life in the shadow of my younger sister, Stacy. No matter what I did—straight A’s, a spotless room—I was never enough for my parents. Stacy, the swim star, was their favorite, while I felt invisible.
The only one who truly saw me was my grandmother. She gave me love, shelter, and support—especially when my parents kicked me out after high school. She helped me move into college and stood by me when I needed someone the most.
I later married Henry, a man my grandmother never trusted. I thought she was being unfair—until I came home early one day and caught him in bed with Stacy.
My world shattered. Pregnant and betrayed, I packed my things and ran to the only person who had ever protected me—my grandmother.
She welcomed me with open arms, but soon after, she revealed she was terminally ill. I stayed by her side, caring for her as she once cared for me. She passed away just before my son was born.
At her funeral, my family showed up, including Henry and Stacy. I kept my distance—until the lawyer read the will. My grandmother had left everything to me and my child “for always being there.” My family erupted, but I stayed calm.
A few weeks later, Stacy showed up at my door—broke, betrayed, and desperate. She begged for help, but I stood firm. I offered her the number of a divorce lawyer, nothing more.
She stormed off, angry. I felt no guilt. For the first time, I had stood up for myself. I may have lost my grandmother, but her love lives on in me and my child—and I intend to honor it every day.
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