Throughout my life, I always felt like I was in second place. No matter how hard I tried—getting straight A’s, keeping my room clean—my parents always favored my younger sister, Stacy. While I quietly succeeded, Stacy was the star, excelling in swimming and gaining all their attention. The only person who truly saw me was my grandmother, who gave me love and support I didn’t get at home.
When I graduated high school, my parents kicked me out, while my grandmother helped me move into college. I refused to take any more money from her, and when I landed a good job, I was able to give back to her. Eventually, I married Henry, though my grandmother was never fond of him.
When my grandmother became ill, I visited her, and she expressed concern about Henry’s infidelity. I didn’t want to believe her, but when I came home early one day, I found Henry and Stacy in my bed. Henry admitted his feelings for Stacy, and I left him, ending our marriage. My grandmother offered me comfort, but soon after, she passed away when I was eight months pregnant.
At her funeral, I learned she had left everything to me and my child. Stacy came to me later, asking for help, but after everything she’d done, I couldn’t bring myself to assist her. I stood firm, finally free from the weight of my past, knowing my grandmother’s love and support would guide me as I moved forward with my baby.
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