When my perfect sister took my husband while I was pregnant, I was crushed. She always thought she was better than me, and she finally got what she wanted. However, life has a way of turning things around. When everything came apart for her, she appeared at my door, pleading for assistance.

My entire life had been in second place. No matter how hard I tried, it wasn’t enough for my parents. I took home highlights, kept my room clean, and did everything I could to make them proud. But none of this mattered. Stacy, my younger sister, was their shining star.

While I silently excelled in school and completed chores without being asked, Stacy set records in swimming contests. My parents pampered her like a celebrity, focusing every free moment on her accomplishments. I felt invisible.

My grandmother was the only person who actually saw me. She frequently took me to her house, where I felt a warmth and love that I never experienced at home. In many ways, she raised me. I spent weekends and summers with her, learning to cook, watching old movies, and feeling like it all mattered.

When I finished high school, my parents didn’t even pretend to care. They kicked me out and told me I was now alone. My grandmother assisted me in relocating to my new university housing with the help of a scholarship.

That scholarship was my sole escape route. When I turned 18, I refused to receive any more money from her. She’d already done enough for me. When I acquired a decent job after graduation, I was happy to be able to give back to her.

I married Henry. My grandmother never liked him. She always claimed that there was something unusual about him, but I believed he loved me.

Recently, Grandma hadn’t been feeling well. I had a knot in my gut as I drove to her house. I knew I had to see her. Now she needed me, just as I had always needed her.

We were sitting at the kitchen table sipping tea. My grandma stirred her tea gently, then looked up to ask, “Are you still with Henry?”

I was stuck for a moment, gripping the cup tightly. “Of course,” I replied. “We are married.”

Her gaze did not shift. “And his adventures?”

I shifted uncomfortably in my chair. “He promised me he wouldn’t cheat on me again,” I told her.

“And you believe him?”

“I’m trying,” I mumbled. “He loves me. I need to believe him.” Then I added, “I’m pregnant. I want my son to have a father.”

Her expression did not change. “That’s not love, May,” she murmured.

“He sees me,” I said, trying to convince both of us.

“Then why do you spend so much time with your parents and Stacy?”

“I also speak to them,” I said. “Just not as much.”

She sighed. “I don’t want to disturb you, but my friend spotted Henry and Stacy together. They were in a restaurant.”

My stomach twisted. I could hardly breathe. “What are you saying?” I asked in a shaky voice.

“Maybe Stacy couldn’t stand you being happy,” she added softly.

“That’s ridiculous!” I exclaimed. “I don’t want to talk about this.”

But as I drove home, rage bubbled inside me. This time, Grandma had crossed a line.

When I arrived, something felt off. Then I heard noises from upstairs. My heart pounded as I climbed the stairs. My hands shook as I opened the bedroom door—and froze.

Henry and Stacy. In my bed.

My eyes filled with tears. I stood frozen. Henry saw me first. His eyes widened. He leapt from the bed.

“May! What are you doing here?”

“What am I doing in my own house?” I shouted.

“You were supposed to be at your grandmother’s house,” he said.

“That’s your excuse?” I asked, stunned. “I caught you in bed with my sister!”

“So what?” Stacy said, smiling cruelly. “I’m better than you. Always have been.”

“How dare you!” I whispered, enraged.

“It’s true,” Henry added coldly. “Stacy is prettier. She keeps fit.”

“And he doesn’t work!” I shouted.

“Having a job doesn’t matter,” he said. “And let’s be honest—you’ve gained weight.”

I instinctively touched my stomach. “Because I’m pregnant! With your son!”

“I don’t know if that’s true,” he said. “Stacy and I talked. I’m not sure the baby is mine.”

I was speechless. “Are you kidding me?”

“Maybe you cheated on me too,” he added.

“Yes, of course!” Stacy chimed in with glee.

“Shut up!” I screamed at her.

“You can say what you want,” Henry said. “I’m done. I’m filing for divorce.”

“Pick up your things and leave tonight. The house is in my name.”

I dried my tears and sneered. “We’ll see how long you last without me. He’s been unemployed for six months!”

“He still bought me expensive gifts,” Stacy said.

“I wonder whose money that was!” I snapped.

I packed my bags and left. I had nowhere to go. My heart ached as I drove to Grandma’s house. I rang the bell, tears falling.

When she saw me, I cried, “You were right.”

She held me. “Everything will be fine,” she whispered.

Henry and I divorced. He kept everything—the house, the furniture, even what I paid for. I only had my car. But I was free.

Grandma gave me a home and love.

One evening, she sat beside me, looking serious. “The doctor told me I have only a few months left.”

I froze. “What?!”

“I thought I had more time,” she said. “But now… I don’t.”

“No! Please, Grandma. Promise me you’ll meet your great-grandson!”

She stroked my hair. “I can’t make promises I’m not sure I can keep.”

Each day she grew weaker. I stopped going to the office and worked from home. I made her favorite meals, cleaned, and stayed close.

One afternoon, I showed her baby room fabric samples. “Do you like this?”

She smiled. “The blue. It’s calm.”

We took short walks and watched our favorite shows. I treasured every second.

But time didn’t stop. Grandma passed away when I was eight months pregnant.

She never met her great-grandson. But I had to stay strong. For my baby.

At the funeral, my whole family came—my parents, Stacy, even Henry.

Stacy looked awful—tired, pale, and lost.

After the service, we gathered for the will. I sat silently.

“There’s not much to say,” the lawyer said. “May and her son inherit everything. ‘For always being there.’”

I was stunned.

My parents screamed. Stacy protested. Henry fumed. The lawyer ushered them out.

I could now take maternity leave without worry. I wasn’t going to waste her money, but I’d use it to protect my son.

A few days later, the doorbell rang. It was Stacy.

She looked even worse. Tear-stained, messy hair, broken.

“What do you want?” I asked.

“I need help,” she whispered. “We lost everything. Henry cheats on me. We’re living with our parents. Can we stay with you?”

I stared at her. “You took my husband. Belittled me. And now you want my help?”

“I didn’t know it would end like this,” she said.

“You made your decision,” I replied. “I have to protect my son.”

“Is it that hard to help me?” she yelled.

“I can give you a good divorce lawyer’s number,” I said calmly. “After all, you saved me from Henry.”

“You’re horrible!” she snapped.

I looked at her evenly. “Think about what you’ve done, then ask who really is.”

“I’m not leaving Henry!” she shouted and stormed off.

I closed the door. For the first time, I felt peace.

I still missed Grandma. The house felt quiet without her.

But she gave me everything: love, security, a future.

I placed my hand on my belly. “Thank you, Grandma. I’ll make you proud.”