Lola’s stepmother turned her baby shower into a chore for her, and Lola felt humiliated. But just when she thinks the earth will swallow her whole, an unexpected voice changes everything. Family ties are strained, secrets are revealed, and respect proves to be more valuable than any gift.
I always believed that family was the only constant in life, the place you turned to when everything else became too heavy.
But pain has the power to shake the ground beneath your feet.
A woman in a black lace dress | Source: Midjourney
My mother died when I was 19, and I thought the worst was over. I thought nothing could upset me more than seeing her empty chair at the table.
I was wrong.
A year later, my father remarried. His new wife, Melinda, was the same age as me—20 at the time—and that detail has never ceased to give me goosebumps. From the moment she moved in, I felt as if I’d been forced into a competition I never signed up for.
A smiling woman leaning against a door | Source: Midjourney
It’s not simply that we’re the same age, although that’s hard to swallow. No, what’s disgusting is the way he looks at me like I’m his rival. The way he raises his voice with subtle hints when he talks to me.
Once he tilted his head and smiled at me smugly.
“Teaching? That’s a nice hobby, Lola,” she told me. “I mean, if that kind of thing is your thing, I suppose.”
The interior of a colorful classroom | Source: Midjourney
It was as if she had chosen finger painting over a fulfilling career that would shape young minds. On another occasion, she poured cream into her coffee and sighed deeply.
“So, you’re still single?” he asked. “Tick-tock, Lola. Time’s running out.”
I remember that day I gripped the cup so tightly that I thought it would break in my hands.
A cup of coffee on a kitchen counter | Source: Midjourney
Every time I mentioned it to my father, David, he justified it with the same excuse.
“She’s young, Lola. Immature, sure. But she has a good heart. Melinda may only let me see it, but you’ll see it too. In time. I promise you,” he said.
But I kept hoping to see his good heart, and it never happened.
A smiling older man | Source: Midjourney
A few years after they were married, Melinda became pregnant with their first child, and everything in the house revolved around her. My father was overjoyed and would drop everything to satisfy Melinda’s cravings.
She would splurge on gadgets and luxury items she saw on social media, convincing him the baby needed them. And he seemed to love having a 25-year-old pregnant wife.
“These days babies need more things than we do, love. Now there are gadgets that make life easier; we should give them the best start,” she said.
A woman with a positive pregnancy test | Source: Pexels
“Of course, darling,” my father would reply. “Whatever you want. Just send me a list and tell me where to go.”
For a while I tried to stay out of it, but when Melinda started planning her baby shower, I suddenly had a role in her life, although not the kind of role I wanted.
It started with something small.
A thoughtful woman leaning on a table | Source: Midjourney
“Can you take care of the invitations, Lola?” she asked me one afternoon, reclining on the sofa with her swollen ankles propped up on a pillow. “I’m just so tired. The pregnant brain is real, don’t listen to what other people say. It’s not a myth.”
I nodded, although the request weighed heavily on my chest.
“Of course, Melinda,” I replied, telling myself it was a simple task. “I can handle it.”
A pregnant woman sitting on a sofa | Source: Midjourney
I assumed that handling the invitations was just a minor task, something without much weight or depth. I could do whatever she needed and still keep my distance from the whole thing.
But soon the requests began to pile up, one on top of the other.
“Could you prepare some trays of appetizers, Lola?” she asked one morning. “Homemade things seem more personal, and you wouldn’t want your father to be embarrassed by having store-bought things, would you? The poor man has suffered enough already.”
I bit the inside of my cheek and sighed.
“Sure, I’ll think of something,” I said, and went down the hall to my room.
Pastel-colored baby shower invitations on a table | Source: Midjourney
The next day, while preparing a toasted sandwich, Melinda appeared in the kitchen, clutching her belly tightly with her hands.
“It looks delicious,” she said, already serving herself my food. “Now, could you scrub the baseboards in the living room? Guests always notice that sort of thing, and wow, your family is a bit obsessive about cleanliness.”
“Really?” I asked, grating more cheese. “I doubt anyone comes here to inspect the baseboards.”
A toasted cheese and tomato sandwich | Source: Midjourney
“You’d be surprised,” she said, laughing a little. “I want everything to be spotless.”
And then he came up with something that almost made me drop my phone.
“I ordered this giant ‘Oh Baby’ sign. It’s being delivered this afternoon. I need you to put it up in the yard. My back and knees hurt just thinking about it.”
I wanted to tell her to do it herself, but I forced a smile and agreed. However, resentment was already building inside me. I felt the line between helping and being used was blurring so quickly that I wondered if she could see it.
A man next to a delivery van | Source: Pexels
The Thursday before the baby shower, I went home from work like every night. The laundry was sadly piling up, the fridge was almost empty, and even my cat was annoyed with me when I finally walked through the door.
Meanwhile, Melinda stretched out on the sofa, phone in hand, scrolling through Instagram as if she were overseeing a team of servants. With one hand, she rubbed her belly in slow circles, wearing the contented expression of a queen surrounded by servants.
A white cat sitting on a sofa | Source: Midjourney
“Iron the tablecloths, Lola,” she ordered casually, pointing to the laundry basket.
I remained motionless, clutching my own sweater tightly.
“Melinda,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady. “This is starting to feel less like helping and more like working.”
“Come on,” she said, smiling. “You don’t have a husband or children, Lola. Not that you have anything better to do.”
A laundry basket | Source: Midjourney
Her words hit deeper than I expected. I clenched my hands into tight fists. For a moment, I imagined myself leaving her with her wrinkled sheets and her smug little smile.
But then I thought of my father, how proud he was of the baby’s arrival, and I forced myself to stay.
The night before the baby shower, my phone rang while I was taking a break from planning my classes.
A mobile phone on a table | Source: Midjourney
“Can you come?” Melinda asked as soon as I picked up the phone. “I need someone to wash the glassware before tomorrow afternoon.”
I burst out laughing, thinking he was joking.
“You can’t be serious,” I said.
“Of course I’m serious,” she said sternly. “There are at least 40 glasses. I can’t do it alone, Lola. Don’t be ridiculous.”
Glassware on a counter | Source: Pexels
I had gone three nights in a row without sleep, assembling centerpieces, ironing tablecloths until my arms hurt, and preparing trays of food.
She could barely take it anymore. And Melinda hadn’t lifted a finger.
The big day arrived, and by midday the house was buzzing. Guests arrived in droves: family friends, cousins she hadn’t seen for months, and even some of Melinda’s old high school friends dressed as if they were going to a fashion show.
An exhausted woman leaning against a wall | Source: Midjourney
The backyard looked perfect, with lights for when the sun went down, pastel balloons, and ribbons that swayed in the breeze. It looked like something straight out of Pinterest, staged and polished down to the last detail.
I had to admit it was beautiful. I had done everything.
People were speechless when he came out.
“It’s stunning,” one of Melinda’s friends whispered to another. “It looks like a magazine cover. It must have cost a fortune.”
A backyard baby shower | Source: Midjourney
Melinda was at the center of it all, with one hand resting gently on her belly.
“Oh, thank you!” she exclaimed. “I’ve worked so hard to make this day special for us and our little one.”
I almost choked on the lemonade I was drinking. I wanted to scream that I hadn’t lifted a finger, but instead I gripped the glass tightly and forced myself to keep moving.
For hours, I floated around like a server. I refilled trays, fetched drinks, and cleaned up spills before anyone could complain. At one point, a guest from Melinda’s group stopped me near the buffet.
A glass of lemonade on a table | Source: Midjourney
“Excuse me,” she asked politely. “Are you from the catering company? Could you serve me another plate of those delicious snacks?”
“I’m not the one who does the catering,” I said, smiling subtly, although the words tasted bitter in my mouth.
By the time it was time to give presents, my feet ached and my head was throbbing. I sat down in a chair at the edge of the room with a paper plate on my knees, too tired to even taste the food I had prepared.
A smiling woman in a pink dress | Source: Midjourney
Melinda grabbed one gift after another with the excitement of a child on Christmas morning. She held up a bag of designer diapers to applause, squealed at my aunt’s thousand-dollar stroller, and beamed at a high-tech baby monitor that probably cost more than rent.
Then he took my gift bag.
I sat up straight in my chair, my heart pounding. I’d spent weeks preparing it: handmade washcloths I’d sewn myself after long days at work. I’d included baby lotion, wipes, diapers, pastel-colored pacifiers, and a gift card tucked away in the bag.
A designer diaper bag on a table | Source: Midjourney
Look, it wasn’t anything extravagant: I was a primary school teacher and, as much as I loved my job, I did the bare minimum.
She lifted the basket, held it up high for everyone to see, and let out a hollow laugh.
“Well, this is a bit basic, don’t you think, Lola?” she said loudly and clearly. “The gift registry was there for everyone to see… especially for those who have no idea what to get. I guess some people just don’t really understand what a baby needs.”
A smiling woman at her baby shower | Source: Midjourney
A few awkward giggles rippled through the crowd. My face flushed. I stared at the plate, wishing I were invisible, wishing the floor would open up and swallow me whole.
Then I heard it: a sharp, deliberate cough that pierced the awkward silence like a bell.
My grandfather Walter, a 72-year-old retired school principal, slowly rose. His cane tapped against the wood, each sound resonating louder than the chatter of a moment before.
He straightened his back and, even before he spoke, the entire room seemed to be at his command.
An embarrassed woman sitting in a backyard | Source: Midjourney
“Melinda,” he said, his voice calm but heavy. “I’ve been sitting here all afternoon, listening. And I think it’s time someone put things in their place.”
The room froze. All eyes turned to him. Even Melinda’s smile faltered as she shifted in her chair.
“Do you know who baked the cookies everyone raves about? And who ironed the tablecloths? And who tied all the ribbons here?” she asked.
When no one said anything, he pointed at me with a gesture.
A stern-faced old man outside | Source: Midjourney
“It was my granddaughter Lola,” she said. “Not you. Don’t you dare take credit for that girl’s hard work. She called me and told me she’d worked really hard. And yet, she still managed to do all this.”
“Walter, I didn’t mean to…”, Melinda let out a weak laugh.
My grandfather raised a hand, silencing her instantly.
“Do you know who stayed up until 2 a.m. this week, making sure this party didn’t fall apart? Lola. Who worked all day and came home to cook for your guests? Lola.”
Trays of food on a table | Source: Midjourney
There were murmurs among the guests. A cousin leaned toward her husband and whispered something to him, and I saw one of Melinda’s friends looking at her shoes, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment.
“And now,” said Grandpa, raising his voice with each word. “You sit there in front of family and friends, belittling the one person who made today possible? You should be ashamed of yourself.”
The silence that followed was heavy. My chest tightened, my throat burned, and my eyes filled with tears, but for the first time in weeks, they weren’t tears of exhaustion or frustration. They came from the sheer relief of being acknowledged.
A distraught woman in a pink and white dress | Source: Midjourney
“But I suppose this is what happens when you ask a child to be an adult,” my grandfather continued. “And let me make this perfectly clear, Melinda: if I hear you speak ill of her again, you’ll find yourself planning your next party without this family’s support. Respect is worth more than any stroller.”
The applause erupted. My aunts clapped, my cousins smiled, and even some of Melinda’s friends joined in, their faces flushed with embarrassment.
For once, Melinda had nothing to say.
An embarrassed woman looking at the ground | Source: Midjourney
Melinda blushed. She laughed nervously, waving her hands.
“Oh, I didn’t mean that,” she murmured. “Could someone please get me some water?”
But no one moved. The damage was already done. She spent the rest of the afternoon silent and sulking.
When the last guest left, he slammed the baby’s room door shut, locked it, and refused to come out. In the end, my father looked heartbroken, guilt etched on his face.
A pregnant woman sitting in a nursery | Source: Midjourney
Later, he pulled me towards the kitchen and spoke in a low voice.
“I’m sorry, Lola,” he told me. “I hadn’t realized how much I was demanding of you. Thank you for everything you did.”
It wasn’t a perfect apology, but it was something.
Grandpa Walter winked at me as he filled a muffin tin and walked out the door.
A tray of cupcakes | Source: Midjourney
“Never let anyone treat you like a servant, my child,” she whispered. “You’re family. Don’t forget that.”
Things are tense now, of course. Melinda barely speaks to me, which I honestly consider a gift. My father is caught in the middle, but I think he’s finally seen a side of her he can’t ignore.
As for me, I learned something important:
Sometimes you don’t have to seek revenge. Sometimes justice comes in the form of a 72-year-old man with a cane and a voice that still commands a crowd.
A pensive old man outdoors | Source: Midjourney
But just when I thought it was over, last week I heard Melinda talking on the phone with a friend.
“I’ll get my revenge on her,” she said on the phone, in a low voice. “You’ll see. Lola won’t even see it coming.”
So… maybe this story isn’t over after all.
A woman by a window | Source: Midjourney
This story is a work of fiction inspired by real events. Names, characters, and details have been changed. Any resemblance is purely coincidental. The author and publisher disclaim all responsibility for accuracy, reliability, and interpretations.
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