Emma and Lily grew up together in our home. Though not biologically related, we treated them equally—with the same curfews, birthday budgets, and chores.
But Carol, my mother-in-law, never embraced that balance. Her warmth was for Lily, while Emma received only polite courtesy.
As prom approached, Carol offered to record the event herself. She arrived with matching cupcakes and enthusiasm—promising fairness.
Yet, during the playback, her bias was clear. Lily was filmed beautifully: close-ups, emotion, praise. When Emma appeared, the camera dropped, and Carol dismissed her hairstyle in a cold remark. Emma felt invisible, and Lily was shocked. I threw out the memory card. My husband told Carol to leave. Emma left silently, heartbroken. Lily defended her sister, calling Carol’s behavior shameful.
Later, Carol tried apologies—a gift and excuses—but we ignored them. Then she confessed: jealousy. She’d never accepted Emma and resented the girl Lily had become. She finally admitted her cruelty.
Emma, giving Carol a chance, set strict boundaries: no solo visits, no cameras. On the first meeting, Carol quietly listened to Emma talk about college and interests—without grand gestures. Carol is working to earn trust, and we’re waiting to see true change.
Result: Emma and Lily remain “chosen sisters.” Now, Carol must prove her love.