Bringing home your first babies is supposed to be one of the happiest days of your life. That’s how I imagined it would be. I had just given birth to my beautiful twin daughters, Ella and Sophie. But what started as a moment of pure joy quickly turned into a nightmare I’ll never forget.
After spending three long, exhausting days in the hospital recovering from labor, I was finally ready to go home. I had pictured this moment for months—my husband, Derek, waiting outside with a big smile, maybe holding flowers.
I imagined the way his face would light up as he held one of our daughters for the first time.
But that’s not what happened.
Instead, I got a phone call.
“Hey, baby,” Derek said, his voice sounding tense.
I smiled, ready to hear him say he was outside. “Hey, are you here?”
“Listen, I’m so sorry,” he started, “but I can’t pick you guys up today.”
His words threw me off. “What? Derek, I just had twins! What could possibly be more important than picking us up?”
“It’s my mom,” he said quickly. “She’s having chest pains. I need to take her to the hospital.”
For a moment, I was too stunned to respond. “Your mom?” I finally managed to say. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner? Derek, I need you here!”
“I know,” he said, sounding frustrated. “But this came up last minute. I’ll come to you as soon as I can, okay?”
I could feel tears of frustration building, but I didn’t want to argue with him on the phone. “Fine,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady. “I’ll call a taxi.”
“Thanks, baby. I’ll make this up to you, I promise,” he said before hanging up.
I knew Derek. He wouldn’t be back that day—his mother lived in another city, and if she needed him, he’d stay as long as it took.
So, I bundled up Ella and Sophie in their car seats, grabbed my hospital bags, and called a taxi to take us home.
When we pulled up to the house, my heart stopped. All my things—suitcases, diaper bags, even the crib mattress—were scattered across the front lawn.
“What the…?” I whispered to myself.
I paid the driver, got out of the cab, and stared at the mess in disbelief. My hands shook as I tried to make sense of what I was seeing. Then I noticed a note taped to one of the suitcases.
I grabbed it and unfolded it.
“Get out of here with your little moochers. I know everything. —Derek”
I read the note again, hoping I was imagining things. Derek? My Derek? The man who cried when we heard our daughters’ heartbeats for the first time? The man who held my hand through every check-up? He couldn’t have written this.
Panicked, I pulled out my phone and called him. Straight to voicemail.
I was shaking as I dialed another number. “Mom, I don’t know what’s happening,” I said when she picked up. “Derek changed the locks and threw our stuff outside!”
“I’m on my way,” she said, her voice firm.
When she arrived, she hugged me tightly. “This doesn’t make sense,” she said, helping me gather my things. “Derek loves you and the girls. Something’s not right.”
We packed everything into her car and went to her house. That night, I barely slept. My mind was racing with questions. Why would Derek do this? What did the note mean?
The next morning, I decided I needed answers. I left the twins with my mom and drove back to the house.
When I got there, I peeked through the window and froze. Sitting at the kitchen table, sipping tea, was Derek’s mother, Lorraine.
I banged on the door. “Lorraine! Open up!”
She walked to the door with a smirk on her face. “Oh, Jenna,” she said sweetly. “Didn’t you read the note? You’re not welcome here anymore.”
“Where’s Derek?” I demanded, my voice shaking with anger.
She shrugged. “At the hospital. Taking care of his poor, sick mother.”
“You’re standing right here!” I shouted. “You lied to him, didn’t you?”
Her smirk widened. “And what if I did?”
“Why would you do something like this?” I asked, my voice breaking.
She didn’t even hesitate. “Because you gave us two useless girls,” she said coldly. “Derek needs a son to carry on the family name. You’ve already ruined his life, so I’m just cleaning up your mess.”
I felt like the ground had been ripped out from under me. She had faked her illness, lied to Derek, and locked me out of my own home—all because of some outdated nonsense about needing a boy.
I wasn’t going to let her win. I drove straight to the hospital and found Derek. When I told him what happened, his face turned pale.
“She did what?” he yelled, standing up.
Without another word, he stormed out. I followed him back to the house. When we got there, Lorraine was still sitting at the table, sipping her tea like nothing had happened.
“Mom,” Derek said, his voice shaking with anger. “What did you do?”
“I was protecting you,” she said calmly. “You deserve better than—”
“Enough!” he shouted. “You lied to me. You threw my wife and my daughters out of their home. Get out. Now.”
For the first time, Lorraine’s confidence faltered. She tried to argue, but Derek wasn’t listening.
“You’re no longer welcome in our lives,” he said firmly.
Lorraine left, muttering under her breath, but I didn’t care. Derek turned to me, his eyes filled with tears. “I’m so sorry, Jenna,” he said. “I let her come between us, but never again. I’ll make this right.”
In that moment, I knew we were going to be okay. Our little family was stronger than anything Lorraine could throw at us.
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