Here’s a shorter version of your story that keeps the core emotions and events intact:
All my life, I was second to Stacy. No matter how hard I tried, my parents always favored her. While I excelled quietly, she shined publicly, and I felt invisible—except to my grandmother, who truly saw me and raised me with love.
When my parents kicked me out after high school, Grandma helped me get to college. Years later, I married Henry, despite Grandma’s warning that something felt off about him. She was right. During a visit, she gently confronted me about his cheating and even suggested something was going on with Stacy. I denied it—until I caught them in bed together.
Heartbroken, I left. Henry kicked me out and demanded a divorce. Stacy gloated, and Henry mocked me—even questioned if the baby I carried was his. I took what little I had and went to the only place I felt safe—Grandma’s.
She welcomed me with open arms, but soon, she revealed her health was failing. I cared for her as best I could, and she passed away before meeting her great-grandchild. At the will reading, I learned she had left everything to me and my baby—for “always being there.” My family exploded with rage.
Later, a desperate Stacy came begging for help. Henry had cheated on her too, and they’d lost everything. She wanted to stay with me. I refused. After all she’d done, I owed her nothing.
I shut the door, feeling a peace I hadn’t known in years. Grandma was gone, but her love remained—and that, finally, was enough.
Would you like a version under 300 words or something even shorter?