After three years of saving, my husband Greg and I finally bought our first home. I was glowing, six weeks pregnant, and excited to show it off during our housewarming. But one comment nearly ruined everything. Greg’s sister, Tessa, had always been difficult. At the party, she seemed cold but civil — until I showed her the basement suite and said, “When you and Jacob visit, this will be your little apartment!”
She laughed and snapped, “Our house? Please. Do you really think you deserve half of this place? Greg’s the one making six figures. You just write blog posts.” I stood frozen. Then she let it all out — how I “stole” her place in Greg’s life, how she used to be his emergency contact and felt erased. “You’re just the girl who got lucky,” she hissed.
Just when I was about to crumble, Greg appeared behind me and said, “She’s not lucky. She’s loved. She’s my wife. And if you ever speak to her like that again, you won’t be welcome in our home.” Tessa tried to defend herself, but Greg wouldn’t budge. Even his parents backed me up. When Tessa stormed out with her son, Jacob told me, “I want to stay with you, Aunt Tina.”
Later, Greg apologized for letting her behavior slide for so long. “You belong everywhere I am,” he said. Tessa texted me a non-apology days later, blaming me again. But I realized something important: I don’t have to prove I deserve anything. I have a husband who loves me, a family who embraces me, and a baby on the way. This house isn’t just a house. It’s our home. And I finally know I belong.