‘But it’s true,’ Henry said, his tone cold and cruel. ‘Stacey is prettier. She always looks good, wears makeup and keeps herself in shape.’
‘And she doesn’t work!’ I snapped.
‘Having a job doesn’t matter,’ Henry said. ‘And let’s be honest. You’ve gained weight.’
My stomach dropped. My hand instinctively touched my belly. ‘Because I’m pregnant! With your child!’ I shouted.
Henry’s face hardened. ‘I don’t know if that’s true,’ he said. ‘Stacy and I talked. I’m not sure the baby is mine.’
My mouth fell open. I could barely breathe. ‘Are you kidding me?! You’re the one who cheated on me over and over again!’
‘Maybe you cheated too,’ Henry said, crossing his arms as if he were the victim.
‘Yes, exactly!’ Stacy chimed in, her voice sounding satisfied.
‘Shut up!’ I yelled at her, my hands shaking.
‘She can say whatever she wants,’ Henry said. ‘I’m done with this. I’m filing for divorce.’
‘Are you serious?!’ I screamed, my heart pounding.
“Yes. Pack your things and be gone by tonight,‘ Henry said coldly. ’The house is in my name.”
I smiled wryly, wiping away my tears. ‘We’ll see how long you last without me,’ I said, then turned to Stacey. “For your information, he’s been unemployed for six months. He can’t even find a job.”
‘But he still buys me expensive gifts,’ Stacy said with a smug grin.
‘I wonder whose money he used to do that!’ I replied, my voice full of disgust.
I gathered my things, stuffing my clothes into bags. By evening, I was gone. I had nowhere else to go.
My heart was breaking as I drove to the only place I knew I would be safe. I stood at my grandmother’s door and rang the bell.
When she opened it and saw me, I couldn’t hold back any longer. Tears streamed down my face as I whispered, ‘You were right.’
She wrapped her arms around me. ‘There, there, everything will be all right,’ she said softly, stroking my hair.
Henry and I got divorced, and he took everything. The house, the furniture, even some things I had bought myself.
All I had left was my car. I didn’t care. I was just glad to be free of him. My grandmother was the only one who supported me through everything.
She gave me a place to live and made sure I didn’t feel lonely. I was incredibly grateful to her for her love and support.
One evening, as I was folding laundry, my grandmother walked into the room. Her face looked serious. She sat down next to me and took my hand. ‘May, we need to talk,’ she said softly.
My heart sank. ‘What’s wrong?’ I whispered, barely audibly.
She sighed deeply. ‘I didn’t want to tell you, but I guess I have to,’ she said. ‘When I started feeling unwell, the doctor said I only had a few years left to live.’
I froze. ‘What?’ I whispered, my throat tightening.
‘I didn’t say anything because I thought I still had time,’ she said softly. ‘But now… the doctor says I only have a few months left.’
My eyes filled with tears. ‘No… that can’t be,’ I muttered.
‘Unfortunately, I won’t be able to help you with my great-grandson,’ she said, her voice full of sadness.
‘Please, Grandma,’ I pleaded. ‘Promise me you’ll live long enough to meet him. Promise me you’ll see him.’ Tears streamed down my face as I hugged her tightly.
She stroked my hair, her touch gentle. ‘I can’t make promises I’m not sure I can keep,’ she whispered.
Every day, my grandmother grew weaker. I could see it in her eyes and in the way her hands trembled.
I tried to spend as much time with her as possible. I stopped going to the office and started working from home.
I wanted to be there in case she needed me. I cooked her favourite meals, even though she hardly ate.
I cleaned the house and tidied up, but at the same time made sure she still felt needed.
‘Grandma, do you like this colour for the nursery?’ I asked one afternoon, holding fabric samples in my hands.
She smiled softly. ‘Blue. It’s calm and peaceful.’
We took short walks when she felt strong enough. In the evenings, we watched our favourite programmes, laughing at the same jokes we had heard hundreds of times before. She was my strength, and I was hers.
But no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t stop time. My grandmother died when I was eight months pregnant.
She never got to see her great-grandson. Her loss devastated me, but I had to stay calm for my baby. I couldn’t let my grief hurt him.
At the funeral, I saw my family for the first time in a long time. My parents, Stacey, and even Henry came.
Stacey didn’t look like herself. Her face was pale and her eyes were sunken. She looked tired and exhausted.
After the service, we gathered in my grandmother’s living room to hear her will read. I sat quietly with my hands folded on my stomach.
‘There’s not much to say,’ the solicitor began. Everything is inherited by May and her child, with the note: ‘For always being there.’
I froze. I knew my grandmother would leave me something, but I never thought she would leave me everything.