My Spoiled Sister Demanded That My Husband Should Be Hers, and Everyone Expected Me to Step Aside – Story of the Day

I thought leaving my childhood home meant leaving behind years of unfairness, but when my father fell ill, I had no choice but to return. What I didn’t expect was that my spoiled sister would turn her jealousy on my marriage, demanding my husband as if he were hers to claim.

I had never known what it meant to be loved in my family. People said parents loved their children equally, but in our house, that was a lie.

I was always the one told to step aside, while my younger sister, Clara, got everything she wanted.

On my sixth birthday, my aunt handed me a doll with golden hair and a pink dress. I clutched it with joy, but within minutes, Clara stomped her feet, screaming.

“I want that doll! I want it now!” she shrieked.

“Clara, stop it,” I whispered.

Mom stormed in, glaring at me, not her. “Give it to your sister.”

“But it’s my birthday present!” I cried.

“She’s younger. Don’t be selfish.” When I refused, Mom’s voice hardened. “Either you hand it over, or I’ll take everything from this room and she’ll pick what she likes.”

Tears blurred my vision as I placed the doll in Clara’s arms. She grinned, while I bit my lip to stop it from trembling.

The years that followed only deepened the pattern. By the time we were teenagers, Clara raided my closet daily. Shirts, shoes, even notebooks disappeared.

One summer, after weeks of bussing tables at the diner, I finally bought myself a light blue sundress I’d dreamed about. I put it on, feeling for once like I owned something beautiful.

Clara barged into my room. “That’s mine,” she snapped.

“No, it isn’t. I bought it with my own money.”

“I don’t care. I want it.” She stomped and screamed until Mom appeared.

“What’s going on?” Mom demanded.

“She won’t give me the dress!” Clara wailed.

“Because it’s not hers,” I argued. “I worked all summer for this.”

Mom’s eyes narrowed. “Clara will wear it better. Give it to her.”

“No! This one thing is mine.”

Mom stepped closer. “If you don’t hand it over, I’ll clear your closet tonight.”

My hands shook as I pulled the dress off. Clara snatched it and twirled in front of the mirror while I collapsed on the bed.

Later that night, Dad sat beside me, sighing. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I wish things were different.” His words comforted me, but his silence in front of Mom cut even deeper.

When I turned eighteen, Dad gave me his old car.

“It’s not perfect,” he said, “but it’ll get you around.”

For the first time, I felt he’d chosen me. But the moment Clara saw it, she pouted. “Why does she get a car and not me?”

“You don’t even have a license,” I reminded her.

“So what? I still want it!”

Mom didn’t hesitate. “Hand her the keys.”

“Mom, that’s not fair!”

“Life isn’t fair,” she snapped. “Do as you’re told.”

The car sat unused in the garage for two years until Clara finally learned to drive. I worked extra shifts, bought my own car, and the day I drove off to college, I didn’t look back.

University saved me. It was where I met Ethan, who later became my husband. With him, I learned what it felt like to be chosen, not overlooked.

We married after graduation, and I didn’t invite my family. Seven years passed without stepping foot in that house. I thought I was free, until one phone call dragged me back.

The call came late in the evening. My mother’s voice was sharp and trembling.

“This is your fault!” she screamed before I could even say hello.

“What are you talking about?” I asked.

“Your father had a heart attack! And it’s because you never came home, never helped us!”

“Mom, that doesn’t make sense,” I said. “Dad and I talk every week. How is this on me?”

“Don’t argue with me! Just get here. He needs care, and you owe us that much!” she shouted and hung up.

I sat frozen, the phone still pressed to my ear. Ethan walked over, concern on his face.

“What happened?”

“My dad had a heart attack,” I whispered. “And my mom… she blamed me.”

“That’s not fair,” Ethan said firmly. “You’re not responsible for that.”

I swallowed hard. “Still… I have to go. I need to see him.”

“Then we’ll go together,” he said without hesitation. “We’ll get a place nearby. You’re not facing this alone.”

I leaned into his embrace, grateful.

Two days later, we arrived in my hometown and rented a small apartment near my parents’ house.

My stomach twisted as we walked up the familiar porch steps. Ethan squeezed my hand.

“Ready?” he asked softly.

“No,” I admitted, “but let’s do it anyway.”

The door swung open before I knocked. Mom rushed out, tears on her cheeks.

Clara followed right behind her, squealing, “You’re here!” and wrapping her arms around me as if nothing had ever been wrong. I stood stiff in her embrace.

Mom’s tone quickly shifted. “Your father’s very sick. The hospital bills are piling up. We don’t have the money.”

My chest tightened. “Where did the money go?”

Clara flipped her hair and grinned. “I bought a new car. And I’m going on a trip with my friends next week.”

“You what?” I asked in disbelief. “Maybe you should cancel that trip and use the money for Dad’s treatment.”

Clara’s smile dropped. “No way. I need this vacation. I’ve been under so much stress.”

“Stress?” I repeated, my voice rising. “Dad’s the one fighting for his life!”

Mom’s face hardened. “Don’t you dare speak to her like that. She’s been worried sick about her father. She deserves a break. You haven’t been here in years, so you can pay for his treatment.”

I opened my mouth to protest, but Clara’s gaze slid past me to Ethan. Her lips curved into a sly smile.

“And who’s this? Ethan, right? Honestly, I don’t get it. Why would a guy like you marry her? There are prettier, more exciting women out there.” She batted her lashes.

Ethan’s jaw tightened. He reached for my hand. “I married her because she’s the love of my life. No one compares to her.”

I rolled my eyes at Clara’s shamelessness. “I’m going to see Dad,” I muttered.

I slipped past them and into the bedroom. Dad lay propped up against pillows, pale but smiling faintly.

“You didn’t have to come,” he said softly. “I’ll be fine.”

“Of course I came,” I said, sitting at his side. “We’ll go back to the doctors, make sure everything is checked. Don’t worry about the cost. Ethan and I will handle it.”

“That’s too much,” Dad whispered. “You shouldn’t have to.”

“You took care of me when no one else did,” I said firmly. “Now it’s my turn.”

He smiled weakly. “I’d like to meet Ethan… but when I’m stronger. I don’t want him to see me like this.”

“You’ll get better,” I promised, squeezing his hand.

After a while, I stepped back into the living room. Clara was sitting too close to Ethan on the couch, laughing, her hand brushing against his arm. Ethan immediately stood when he saw me.

“Ready to go?” he asked.

“Yeah,” I said through clenched teeth.

At the door, Clara leaned toward him with a playful smirk. “I’ll be waiting for our next meeting, Ethan.”

He frowned, shook his head, and walked out with me.

Outside, the night air felt heavy. Coming home had been worse than I expected, and I knew the real storm was still ahead.

The next days blurred together as I drove Dad to doctors, filled prescriptions, and tried to keep him comfortable. He was slowly regaining strength, but the weight of responsibility pressed on me.

One afternoon, as I helped him back into bed, I asked, “Would you come live with us, Dad? Ethan and I could take care of you.”

He shook his head. “Your mother and Clara wouldn’t manage without me. I can’t leave them.”

I bit back my frustration. “You deserve peace, too.”

He squeezed my hand. “Don’t worry about me. Worry about yourself.”

Every visit to that house tested my patience. Clara paraded in short skirts, leaning across tables with low necklines, tossing her hair, and laughing too loudly at Ethan’s polite responses.

Mom beamed with pride, whispering, “Isn’t she lovely? Such a good girl.” I clenched my fists under the table, biting my tongue only for Dad’s sake.

One evening, when Dad started to feel a little stronger, he insisted on hosting a dinner. “I want to sit down properly with your husband,” he said.

Ethan agreed, and we both hoped it would be a chance for normalcy. At first, things went smoothly.

Dad asked Ethan about his work, Ethan asked about Dad’s health, and for a brief moment, it felt almost like family.

The only shadow over the evening was Clara, who kept trying to flirt with Ethan, leaning too close and tossing her hair as if I weren’t sitting right beside him.

Then Ethan excused himself to take a call. The silence that followed was heavy.

Clara dropped her fork, leaned forward, and in a sing-song voice said, “I want him.”

My fork froze midair. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” she said. “Ethan should belong to me. I’m younger, prettier, and he’d be happier with me.”

I let out a sharp laugh. “Are you insane? He’s my husband, not a toy you can grab off a shelf.”

I stared at her, disbelief surging into fury. “You can’t be serious. My whole life you’ve stolen from me, and now you want my husband?”

Clara crossed her arms, pouting like a child. “I want him, and I always get what I want.”

“Not this time,” I snapped, my voice trembling with rage. “You’re delusional if you think I’ll just step aside.”

Clara’s face crumpled as she burst into tears, and Mom rushed to her side, stroking her hair.

“Don’t cry, sweetheart,” Mom murmured. “We’ll figure something out. Ethan should have been yours all along.”

The table shook as Dad slammed his fist down. “Enough!” His face reddened. “If you ever try to interfere in your sister’s marriage, I’ll throw you out of this house myself!”

Clara’s mouth fell open, tears spilling down her cheeks. “Daddy, how could you say that? Don’t you care about me?”

“I care about both of you,” he said firmly. “I have two daughters, not one. And I won’t watch you destroy her family.”

Mom shot to her feet, pointing at him. “You’ve never cared about Clara the way I do! You’re choosing sides.”

“For once, yes, I am,” he said.

The room vibrated with silence until Ethan returned, glancing at our tense faces.

“What happened?”

“Nothing that matters anymore,” I said, standing. “We’re leaving.”

At the door, Dad followed us out, holding some folder in his hands. “I should’ve defended you years ago,” he murmured. “I’m sorry.”

I swallowed hard. “You did tonight. That’s enough.”

He pressed a folder into my hands. “This is my will. The original’s with my lawyer. Everything goes to you. They don’t know.”

“Dad…” My voice broke. “Are you sure?”

“I failed you while I was alive. At least after I’m gone, I can do something right.”

Tears blurred my vision as I hugged him tightly. Ethan and I walked into the night, the folder clutched to my chest.

For the first time in my life, I felt my father had chosen me. And I knew I would never again let my mother or Clara take what was mine.

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