I was 19 when my father told me Amanda was moving in.
My mother had been gone barely a year, and I took the news as well as you can imagine.
“But she’s my aunt, and you’re telling me you and her… Dad, you can’t be serious!”
“Sometimes these things just happen. You’re too young to understand, but you’ll get it one day.”
He sipped his coffee like this was all perfectly normal.
What was I supposed to say when he put it like that?
He clearly didn’t care about my opinion, so I just tried to make the best of it.
At first, Amanda played the part perfectly. She brought me soup when I stayed home from work sick. When my father was around, she smiled constantly and asked about my college classes.
For a while, I thought this might work, but it didn’t last.
Amanda played the part perfectly.
The first time she snapped at me, we were alone in the house. I hadn’t folded the laundry. It’s such a small thing, but I was tired from working doubles at the café, and honestly, I just forgot.
She looked at the pile, then at me.
“Honestly, you’re just as useless as your mother was.”
My jaw dropped.
We were alone in the house.
Did she really just say that about my mom?
She looked at me then and frowned.
“Oh, stop catching flies. You’re far too sensitive, Ruth. I’m just trying to help you grow up.”
From then on, it became routine.
When Dad was home, Amanda was warm and patient.
The moment he left the room, her voice dropped.
From then on, it became routine.
It was like watching someone flip a switch. One second, she was all kindness and concern, and the next, her eyes went cold.
If my room was untidy, she’d pinch her nose theatrically and call me a slob. If I walked through the house with my earbuds in, she’d call me a rude brat.
And whenever she ran out of insults, she reverted to her favorite: “You’re so useless.”
She’d pinch her nose theatrically and call me a slob.
Each comment landed like a small cut — not deep enough to draw blood, but enough to sting. Enough to make me doubt myself.
Was I really that bad? Was I doing something wrong?
Once, I tried to tell my father.
“She’s really mean to me when you’re not around,” I said carefully.
He frowned.
Each comment landed like a small cut.
“Amanda? She’s been nothing but good to you.”
Amanda appeared behind him, concern written all over her face.
How does someone move that quietly? It was like she’d been waiting for this moment.
“What’s wrong, sweetheart?” she asked.
I looked at her, then back at him, and I knew right then that nothing I said would matter.
They got engaged shortly afterward. And then I got hurt.
Amanda appeared behind him.
The day I fell, she sent me out with a list.
“These gifts need to be picked up today. And don’t dawdle!”
It was snowing hard. The sidewalks were slick with ice, the air sharp enough to sting my lungs.
By the time I was walking back, my arms were full of heavy packages. Too full, honestly. I had to tilt my head sideways to see where I was going.
That’s when I slipped.
The sidewalks were slick with ice.
My foot slid away from under me.
I was already off-balance because of the packages, and I went down hard. I landed on my back in the snow.
My leg was on fire, and my arm… everything hurt so bad.
The last thing I remember before I blacked out is thinking that Amanda would never forgive me if her packages were damaged.
My foot slid away from under me.
I woke up in a hospital room surrounded by bright lights and beeping machines.
My arm felt heavy, like someone had strapped weights to it. My leg wouldn’t move.
I lifted my head and saw the casts: one on my arm and one on my leg.
That’s when Amanda leaned over me.
Her jaw was tight, her eyes narrow.
I woke up in a hospital room.
“Don’t think this little stunt will get you out of your responsibilities,” she hissed. “You’re still going to get everything ready for the rehearsal dinner and the wedding.”
I blinked at her. Was she serious? I could barely think straight.
“Oh, don’t look at me like that.” She straightened. “You’re fine. Don’t be so useless.”
Fine. Right. Because broken bones are nothing, apparently.
I could barely think straight.
When we got home, she walked ahead of me up the stairs.
I stood there, gripping the railing with my good hand, trying not to cry. Each step looked impossible.
How was I supposed to do this?
She didn’t turn around.
But the worst came later, when Dad got home.
Each step looked impossible.
He frowned as he took in the sight of me.
“You should’ve been more careful, Ruth. Ice is dangerous.”
No “Are you okay?” or “Can I do anything to help you?”
Just a reminder that I should’ve known better.
That night, while I lay in bed staring at the ceiling, my phone buzzed.
He frowned as he took in the sight of me.
It was my grandmother, Dad’s mom.
“Hi, my sweet girl,” she said when I answered. “How are you?”
Everything I’d been holding in came pouring out.
“I can’t do this anymore,” I sobbed. “Amanda hates me. I’m hurt, and she doesn’t care. She says awful things about me, and about Mom.”
Everything I’d been holding in came pouring out.
I poured my heart out to Grandma as tears coursed down my face.
It felt good to get it out, even if she couldn’t do anything about it. She lived a few states away, far enough to be in a different time zone.
But Grandma surprised me.
“Listen to me, Ruth. I want you to be careful and do everything they tell you, for now.”
I poured my heart out to Grandma.
I swallowed. “Why?”
“Because the moment I arrive, I’ll throw them a celebration they’ll never forget. And Amanda will regret the way she’s been acting.”
I didn’t know what she meant, but something in her voice made me believe her.
For the next week, I worked.
Something in her voice made me believe her.
I made phone calls with my cast propped on a pillow.
I booked the restaurant, sent invitations, and confirmed the seating. I even picked up her wedding dress.
When I asked for help, Amanda waved me off. “Don’t be so useless.”
That word again. Like I wasn’t sitting there with two broken limbs, doing her work for her.
An hour before the celebration, I was lying in bed, exhausted, when the doorbell rang.
I made phone calls with my cast propped on a pillow.
“I can’t go downstairs,” I called out.
My leg was propped on pillows, and my arm ached. I could barely keep my eyes open.
Amanda opened my door. “You’re so useless, Ruth. Why do I even feed you?”
I heard her go downstairs and open the door.
Then I heard my grandmother’s cheerful voice. “Hi, dear! It’s time for the celebration!”
I heard her go downstairs and open the door.
And then a loud thud, like something slammed onto the floor with all its force.
“MOM, WHAT ARE YOU DOING?! WHY TODAY, OF ALL DAYS?!” my father shouted.
“What is wrong with you?” Amanda shrieked. “Why would you bring all of this here?”
I had to see what was happening.
I pushed myself up from the bed, gripping the railing as I slowly made my way downstairs.
I had to see what was happening.
When I reached the bottom, I stopped short.
The front hall looked like a children’s birthday party had exploded. Bright balloons bobbed against the ceiling. A pile of party hats, streamers, and oversized shoes had spilled out of a large cardboard box on the floor.
That must have been the thud.
But that wasn’t even the strangest thing!
When I reached the bottom, I stopped short.
Standing awkwardly among the mess were three clowns. Their faces were made up with the usual smiling expressions, but they stood with their shoulders squared, arms folded like they meant business.
My grandmother stood calmly in the middle of it all, coat still on, her purse hooked over her arm.
“What is the meaning of this, Mom?”
Grandma smiled.
My grandmother stood calmly in the middle of it all.
“Well, since you’ve turned your life into a circus, I thought this gift would be the appropriate way to celebrate your wedding.”
I almost laughed.
“That is not funny,” Amanda snapped.
“You’re humiliating us!” My father sounded like he might cry. “The neighbors can hear this.”
“Before anyone worries about the neighbors,” Grandma said, “I want to see my granddaughter.”
My father sounded like he might cry.
Her eyes found me immediately.
“There you are. Come here, sweetheart.” She held out her arms.
Her gentle tone unlocked a wave of emotion I’d been holding back. I hobbled to her and hugged her tightly.
“I’m here, just like I promised. No matter what happens next, I’ll make sure you’re okay.”
Grandma stepped back and turned to the clowns.
I hobbled to her and hugged her tightly.
“Gentlemen, thank you. Please wait outside.”
The clowns quietly gathered what they could and filed out the front door.
Finally, it was just the four of us.
Grandma took my hand and guided me to a chair.
“You’ve been patient, Ruth, just like I asked, but now I want you to speak. Just tell the truth. Nothing more.”
Now it was just the four of us.
I took a deep breath and told Dad everything.
When I finished, Amanda laughed sharply. “I don’t know why you think this is funny, Barbara, or why you dragged Ruth into your little game, but enough is enough.”
“This isn’t a game!” I yelled. “And Grandma didn’t put me up to anything. Everything I just said is true.”
“Where’s your proof? Where’s any proof?”
Amanda turned to my father.
“Everything I just said is true.”
“I tried my best with Ruth, but she’s never accepted me. She’s trying to ruin us out of spite. Are you really going to throw away your wedding over accusations with no evidence?”
My father stared at the floor. His hands were in his pockets. I couldn’t read his face.
That’s when Grandma stepped forward.
“She’s right about one thing. There is no proof.”
Amanda smiled, relieved.
I couldn’t read his face.
Then Grandma continued. “There is only a choice.”
Amanda’s eyes narrowed.
“You can believe that woman,” Grandma gestured to Amanda, “or you can believe the child you raised, the one sitting here in casts because no one protected her.”
She stepped closer to my father and raised one finger. “But if you choose wrong, son, you don’t lose a wedding. You lose your daughter, and me.”
“There is only a choice.”
My father’s hands were shaking. His gaze flickered between Amanda and me several times before settling on her. He took a step toward her, and my heart dropped.
I looked up at Grandma, but she was watching Dad — we all were. What he said next brought tears to my eyes.
“The wedding is off.”
Amanda’s face hardened. “You can’t be serious.”
“I am.” He turned to face me.
What he said next brought tears to my eyes.
“I’m sorry. I believe you, Ruth. I didn’t want to see it, but I should have.”
Amanda stared at him, stunned. Then she lost it. She let out an animalistic scream and stormed out of the house. Grandma exhaled slowly as she watched her go.
“That,” she said quietly, “is the beginning of fixing this.”
Dad kneeled in front of me then and leaned in for a hug. It would take a long time to repair the damage Amanda had caused, but for the first time in a long time, I felt safe in my own home.
Dad kneeled in front of me then and leaned in for a hug.