When my sister took my husband while I was pregnant, my entire world shattered. She had always carried herself like she was better than me — prettier, smarter, more deserving. Growing up, I was constantly compared to her and somehow always came up short. The only person who ever truly saw me for who I was — and loved me without conditions — was my grandmother.
She was my anchor through every storm. She supported me through school, celebrated my successes, and taught me how to stand on my own. When I met the man who would become my husband, she didn’t trust him. “He’s not the one who’ll protect your heart,” she warned. But I was in love and refused to believe her. Her fears were proven right the day I walked into my home and discovered the betrayal — my husband and my sister together. My marriage ended that same day, and everything I’d built fell apart.
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