I’ll always remember the day I drove into the driveway and saw my belongings piled on the porch. Everything was packed into trash bags and left there as if I meant nothing. When I stepped inside the house, I saw my husband’s so-called sister, Rachel, standing there with a smug smile, acting like she owned the place.
For years, my life had been calm and steady. I shared a quiet home with my husband and had a routine that felt comforting and secure.
