When I won an iPad at my company’s annual party, I was thrilled. As soon as I got home, I shared the news with my mom, grinning from ear to ear. The next day, my sister-in-law, Amanda, knocked on my bedroom door. “Hey, do you think you could give that iPad to your nephew, Ryan?” she asked with a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Ryan’s been needing one for school—online classes, assignments, you know. You don’t have kids, so you don’t really need it. Why not just give it to him?” I shook my head. “Sorry, Amanda, but I’m planning to use it myself.” That’s when the entire family decided to gang up on me. “You’re living here, eating here, and you can’t even give your nephew something you got for free?” “What a selfish, ungrateful leech!” “Don’t ever call me your brother again. Get out of this house!” So, I did. I packed my things, moved out, and left them to their drama. Funny thing is, after a while, they begged me to come back. “Listen, Emily,” Amanda began one evening, pulling me aside with an overly earnest look. “You know how hard your brother works, right? Ryan just started high school, and the pressure is insane. We can’t afford a tutor, and the iPad would help him keep up with online resources.” I hesitated. “But I was planning to use it too…” “For what?” she snapped, patting my hand like I was a child. “Watching YouTube? Scrolling through Instagram? You can do all that on your phone, can’t you?” She sighed dramatically. “Ryan’s at such a critical point in his education. As his aunt, shouldn’t you support him?” The iPad I’d won was the latest model, something I’d been eyeing for months but couldn’t justify buying because of its price. Now she wanted me to hand it over for free? Absolutely not. “You could always check out second-hand options,” I suggested. “You can get a decent tablet for much cheaper.” Amanda’s eyes widened in horror. “Second-hand? Are you serious? All the boys in Ryan’s class have the newest models. Do you want him to be the laughingstock of the school? Is that what you want?” Before I could respond, she sneered, “You’re trying to humiliate him, aren’t you?” I clenched my fists. “Then go buy him a new one!” She threw her hands up. “Why would I do that when you already have one? It’s such a waste!” Her tone shifted to mock sympathy. “You’re divorced now, Emily. No husband, no kids. When you’re old, you’ll need Ryan to take care of you. Shouldn’t you invest in his future?” I laughed bitterly. “Don’t worry about me. I won’t need anyone.” And with that, I slammed the door in her face and went to work.
After my divorce, I moved back into my parents’ house. Between my job and the messy legal battle with my ex, I figured staying with family would give me some stability. Amanda wasn’t thrilled with the arrangement. She’d turned my old bedroom into a storage space and wasn’t happy about having to clear it out. As I started unpacking my things, she stood in the doorway, arms crossed. “Do you really need to move everything back in? These boxes were just fine where they were. You hardly take up any space when you’re sleeping, so why not just leave them here?” Her logic was absurd. My room was already the smallest in the house, and with all her junk in there, I could barely move. Still, I bit my tongue and quietly cleared out the space. To smooth things over, I offered to pay $300 a month as a contribution to the household expenses. Amanda put on a fake smile. “Oh, there’s no need for that. You’re family.” When I insisted, she finally relented. “Well, if it makes you feel better, I’ll take it. But don’t worry—I’ll make sure you’re comfortable here. I’ll even cook your favorite meals!” That promise didn’t last long. Barely two months in, she started complaining at the dinner table. “Groceries are so expensive these days. And doing all this housework? My back is killing me.” One evening, while we were all watching TV, she stormed into the living room and started ranting about money. “Ryan needs to enroll in an extracurricular program, but we can’t afford it. And whose fault is that? Your brother barely makes enough to feed this family!” she yelled, glaring at him. “Do you know how long it’s been since I bought myself new clothes? I can’t believe I married someone so useless!” Before she could keep going, my brother slapped her across the face. The room went silent. Amanda froze for a second before bursting into tears, wailing so loudly it made the walls shake. “Enough!” my dad shouted, slamming his coffee cup onto the table. Amanda immediately stopped crying, staring at him in shock. “If you don’t like it here, you can leave,” he said coldly. Amanda opened her mouth to argue, but I quickly stepped in to diffuse the situation. “It’s okay, Amanda. I know you’ve been under a lot of stress. I’ll add another $100 to my monthly contribution. It’s not much, but I hope it helps.” That seemed to calm her down. She wiped her tears and nodded reluctantly. My dad, however, glared at me. “Ever since you came back, this family’s been in chaos. You couldn’t hold onto your marriage, and now you’re bringing your bad luck here. You’re nothing but a burden.” He’d never liked me. To him, I was just a daughter who’d failed to “marry well” and brought shame to the family by getting divorced. At the time, I thought he was right. I felt guilty for moving back in and tried to make up for it by keeping my head down and buying expensive gifts for everyone. But no matter how much I gave, they never treated me with kindness. My mom was the only one who showed me any warmth. The rest of them only spoke to me when they wanted something—like the time I paid for Ryan’s summer camp. Ironically, I’d moved back home to save money, but living there ended up costing me more than renting an apartment. Looking back, it’s clear that Amanda’s constant complaints about my brother’s income were just a smokescreen. In the end, I was the only one footing the bill for their luxuries.
After work, I decided not to head home right away. After the morning’s drama, I wasn’t ready to face Amanda. I called my mom to let her know I’d be late and told her not to wait for me for dinner. Growing up, my dad ran the house like a dictator. As my brother got older, he naturally took the position of second-in-command. I always thought my mom and I were on the same team. She was quiet, submissive, and rarely taken seriously. When my brother dropped out of middle school, I’d often come home from school to find him and my dad sprawled on the couch, watching TV or playing video games. The floor was always littered with cigarette butts, sunflower seeds, and trash. Meanwhile, my mom, with an apron tied around her waist and gloves on her hands, would be rushing around cleaning up after them. She’d sweep the floor, ask them to throw their trash into the bin, and then head back to the kitchen. But by the time she returned, the floor would be trashed all over again. I felt sorry for her and helped with the housework whenever I could. When my dad hit her, I’d step in to shield her, hoping to ease her suffering even a little. So, when I won the iPad, I only told her, trusting she’d keep it between us. I even posted about it on my private social media, carefully excluding any family members. But by the next morning, Amanda knew. When my mom called to check on me during lunch, I couldn’t hold back my frustration. “Mom, I told you not to say anything about the iPad! How does Amanda already know?” She hesitated, then stammered, “Well, uh… last night when you told me about it, I think she overheard us talking.” “And what, you just told her everything when she asked?” I snapped. “I didn’t mean to! She said Ryan needed it for school, so I… I just mentioned it.” I was so angry I couldn’t speak. After a pause, she added nervously, “Emily, if you don’t need it, why not let your nephew have it? Amanda may be a bit harsh, but Ryan’s education is important…” Ryan’s education? He was consistently at the bottom of his class and was always in trouble. Somehow, Amanda had convinced herself that an iPad was the magical solution to his academic failures. I ended the call, not wanting to hear more excuses. When I finally got home that evening, the house was unusually quiet. Normally, this was the time of night when Ryan would be glued to the couch, refusing to go to bed. Amanda would yell at him, and the two of them would argue until the entire house was in chaos. But tonight, only my parents were in the living room. My brother and his family were nowhere to be seen. I went to my room and decided it was time to sell the iPad. Things had been tight financially lately, and I’d been debating whether to keep it or sell it for cash. After Amanda’s stunt, the decision was easy—selling it was the way to go. I opened my desk drawer to grab it… but it was gone. The desk had a lock, but I’d lost the key years ago. I figured it was safe enough to leave the iPad there—after all, I was living in my own home. But now, it had vanished. I immediately knew who was responsible. Ever since moving back in, I’d noticed my things going missing—half-used skincare products, makeup I rarely wore, clothes I didn’t touch, snacks I’d bought for myself. None of it was expensive, so I’d let it slide. But this? Stealing the iPad crossed the line. Fuming, I stormed into Amanda’s room without knocking. She and Ryan were lounging on the bed, and the moment she saw me, she instinctively pushed something down onto the mattress. It was too late. I’d already seen it. “Don’t you knock?” Amanda snapped, trying to go on the offensive. “When have you ever knocked before coming into my room?” I shot back. Her face twisted in indignation. “Watch your tone! Don’t forget whose house you’re living in!” “‘Whose house’? This is my house!” I shouted. “And while we’re at it, stop taking my things. Give me back the iPad!” Amanda’s laugh was cold and mocking. “Your house? What a joke. No wonder your husband left you. Married for three years and you couldn’t even have a kid!” I froze, stunned by the cruelty of her words. She didn’t stop there. “Women like you—useless and barren—don’t deserve a place in any family. You’re lucky we even let you stay here!” The sheer audacity of her words made me laugh bitterly. I shook my head, regaining some composure. “I don’t have time for this. Just give me the iPad.” She glanced at the device on the bed, then sneered. “How do you know it’s yours? I just bought this today.” “Bought it?” I said, smirking. “Every iPad has a serial number. I took a photo of mine the day I got it. Let’s see if it matches.” I pulled out my phone and started dialing. “I’ll let the police sort this out.” Amanda panicked. She lunged at me, trying to grab my phone, and in the scuffle, it fell to the floor, the screen shattering on impact. “Call the cops, huh? Go ahead!” she screamed, grabbing a fistful of my hair. “I’ll beat you to death before they even get here!” The rage boiling inside me gave me strength. I shoved her off me, and she stumbled back, falling against the bed. Ryan jumped up, pointing a finger in my face. “How dare you touch my mom!” At fourteen, he was already tall and broad—a physical match for me. Despite everything I’d done for him, he now looked at me with pure hatred. I braced myself as he raised his fist, but before he could take a swing, my parents rushed into the room. “Are you all trying to destroy this house?!” my dad bellowed. Amanda, still shaken, ran to my parents, sobbing dramatically. “Look what your daughter did to me!” she wailed. “She attacked me and threatened to call the police! She’s out of control!” I opened my mouth to defend myself, but before I could get a word out, my dad slapped me across the face. The force of it left me stunned, my cheek burning as tears blurred my vision. “Do you do anything besides disgrace this family?” he growled. “If you cause one more problem, you’re out of this house for good.”
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