I was born from a brief affair—an inconvenience my mother never wanted.
When I turned ten, she married my stepfather Charlie and gave birth to their “perfect son,” Jason.
And just like that, I became nothing more than a reminder of her past mistake.
I still remember the day she told me I wouldn’t be living with them anymore.
“Rebecca, come here,” she called from the kitchen table, where she sat with Grandma Brooke.
I walked in, hope blooming in my chest.
“Yes, Mom?” I asked.
She barely spoke to me anymore.
Her eyes were cold.
“You’re going to live with Grandma now.”
At first, the words didn’t register.
“Like… for the weekend?”
“No,” she said, avoiding my eyes. “Permanently. Grandma’s going to take care of you from now on.”
I turned to Grandma. Her face was tight—anger and grief barely contained.
“But why? Did I do something wrong?”
“Don’t make this harder than it has to be,” my mother snapped. “I have a real family now. You’re just… in the way.”
Grandma slammed her hand on the table.
“Enough, Pamela! She’s a child, for God’s sake. Your child.”
My mother shrugged.
“A mistake I’ve paid for long enough. Either you take her, or I’ll find someone who will.”
I stood there, tears streaming down my face—completely invisible to the woman who had given birth to me.
“Pack your things, sweetheart,” Grandma said gently, pulling me into her arms. “We’ll make this work, I promise.”
