The 47th U.S. president’s latest gift to his granddaughter has set social media abuzz, with many weighing in on the unexpected choice.

Donald Trump recently shared details about an extravagant gift he gave his 17-year-old granddaughter, Kai Trump, igniting mixed reactions.

He revealed that he purchased a Tesla Cybertruck for her, which currently costs between $81,985 to $101,985, according to Car and Driver.

Donald admitted that he bought the Cybertruck about a year ago, and it has since become Kai’s favorite, even as she’s set to play golf at the University of Miami. In October 2024, she posed with her silver Cybertruck before attending her school’s homecoming dance.

In a video shared by Daily Mail, the U.S. president was heard speaking about the purchase. “I bought it for a very special young woman, you know, I’m sure you’ve never heard of her, Kai,” he told the media.

“She’s a great golfer, and she puts the clubs in the back, and I guess it’s a very safe deal, she loves it,” he continued.

Reactions to the news were mixed across various social media platforms. On Instagram, one person commented, “Omg.”

On Facebook, people expressed different viewpoints. One comment read, “Must be nice [sic]!” Another person remarked, “What a lucky granddaughter.”

“The most humble gift i ever seen… he could have gifted her a Lamborghini urus ya know and i bet she deserves it [sic],” opined a different viewer. Meanwhile, another commenter stated, “Wow.”

Discussions on X also varied. One person divulged, “Seems like Trump’s got a pretty unique way of promoting Tesla! A Cybertruck for his granddaughter sounds like quite the gift.” Another questioned the choice, “What teenage girl wants a Cybertruck [sic]?”

Kai has publicly expressed admiration for her grandfather on multiple occasions. In an Instagram post on November 5, 2024, she shared pictures of herself with her grandfather on the golf course alongside snapshots of him with his other grandchildren. The caption read, “You inspire us all. I love you Grandpa .”

Days later, on November 11, she posted another series of photos captioned, “Sundays with Grandpa .” The images featured her granddad watching her play golf, as well as Kai posing with Elon Musk and his son on the course.

Kai also spoke about her grandfather at the Republican National Convention on July 18, 2024. During her speech, she shared personal anecdotes about their bond.

“To me, he’s just a normal grandpa. He gives us candy and soda when our parents aren’t looking. He always wants to know how we’re doing in school. When I made the high honor roll, he printed it out to show his friends how proud he was of me,” she said.

She also reflected on their time playing golf. “When we play golf together, if I’m not on his team, he’ll try to get inside of my head. And he’s always surprised that I don’t let him get to me. But I have to remind him, ‘I’m a Trump, too.'”

“He’s very caring and loving. He truly wants the best for his country and he will fight every single day to make America great again,” concluded Kai.

Donald’s purchase of the Cybertruck for his granddaughter aligns with his recent public support for Tesla. On March 12, 2025, he selected a red Tesla Model S on the White House driveway, expressing admiration for the brand.

“Wow,” he said as he sat in the driver’s seat, according to AP News. Elon, who joined him in the passenger seat, joked about “giving the Secret Service a heart attack” as they discussed the car’s speed and features.

Donald announced his plans to purchase the vehicle, intending to leave it at the White House for staff use.

He also hoped his endorsement would benefit Tesla, which has been dealing with sales challenges and declining stock prices. “It’s a great product,” said the U.S. president, adding, “we have to celebrate him,” referring to Musk.

Donald’s gift to his granddaughter has drawn attention not only for its high price but also for his continued support of Tesla. As social media reacts to the purchase, the U.S. president’s gesture remains a topic of discussion.

Beyond the excitement over her Cybertruck, Kai has also shared glimpses of significant family moments. Two months earlier, she posted a collage of pictures from her grandfather’s Inauguration Day on January 20, 2025, in Washington, DC.

Fans particularly admired the mother-daughter pictures and couldn’t help but point out how much she resembled her aunt, Ivanka Trump.

Most of the photos Kai posted were from the inauguration ball, where she dazzled in an elegant gown. However, some images were captured at the main inauguration event before the ball, including a mirror selfie she took before changing into her gown.

Another standout picture featured Kai sharing an embrace with her grandfather, the 47th president of the U.S. In the heartfelt moment, Kai looked proudly at Donald, as she celebrated the historic occasion.

Fans also noticed a striking snapshot of Kai alongside her aunt, Ivanka Trump, and pointed out how their features mirrored each other. Additionally, they noted the resemblance between Kai and her mother, Vanessa Kay Haydon Trump, making it clear how strong the family traits run.

One person gushed, “You inherited your mom’s beauty ” while another echoed a similar sentiment, “You are your Mama’s twin .” More fans also said Kai and her mom had similar features, “You look so much like your beautiful mom ,” and another added, “Beautiful and classy like your mom!!! . Love your family. You make an amazing role model for kids.”

A supporter quickly affirmed, “Kai is her mother’s daughter! Lovely ladies.” Another admirer appreciated their striking similarities, “Kai your Mom is so very beautiful you two look like sisters .”

Beyond her mother, some fans focused on Ivanka. One person observed, “Ivanka and Kai look so much alike!! ,” while another noted, “You look more like sisters than aunt/niece.” Someone else remarked, “Wow you look like your auntie, so many features. Stunning.”

Kai also posed for pictures with her dad, Donald Trump Jr. A shot before the inauguration ceremony shows them smiling at each other as they share in the special moment.

Later at the inauguration ball, memorable moments, including a touching father-daughter dance, captured the bond between Kai and her dad. The two had broad smiles, in this post, which Kai captioned, “Moments from DC.”

Kai is the first grandchild of Donald Trump’s 10 grandchildren. He was elated when she was born in May 2007, saying, “The baby is really beautiful. I’ve never seen such a head of hair on a baby in my entire life. Just an absolutely beautiful baby, and healthy and happy, so I’m thrilled.”

Kai’s parents Donald Jr. and Vanessa share four other kids. They were married in 2005 and divorced in 2018.

Today, Kai has grown into a gorgeous teenager pursuing her dreams. She has always had a deep passion for golf, which has been a significant part of her life.

Kai’s introduction to golf came naturally, as her family has always been involved in the sport, owning golf courses. Initially, she played tennis and golf, but as her golf skills developed, she focused solely on it.

In a Q&A video on YouTube, when asked who is better at golf between her and her grandfather, she respectfully declined to choose.

Kai acknowledged her admiration for Donald and stated that it depends on the day. She even jokingly suggested a challenge between them, offering a glimpse into their friendly competition.

The golfer is currently a freshman at the Benjamin School in Jupiter Florida. Her personal statement on the school’s website reads, “I have been playing golf for thirteen years. This was my second year playing for my high school’s varsity team and my first year as team captain.”

Alongside her dedication to the sport, she is actively involved in three clubs at her school, where she strives to excel academically and athletically.

In addition to her commitment to her goals, she aspires to be a leader and a positive influence, both on and off the golf course. Looking ahead, Kai aims to continue her athletic career at the college level.

She carefully chose the University of Miami after a stressful process of researching and narrowing down her college options. Her decision was influenced by her desire to stay close to her family, who owns golf courses in Miami.

The golfer believes it’s important for young athletes to start talking to coaches as early as age 15 even if their response isn’t immediate. In college, she plans to major in business. However, she once considered becoming a doctor but her fear of blood and needles steered her away from that path.

When Kai chose the University of Miami, she posted her verbal commitment on Instagram, writing, “I would like to thank my mom, Vanessa, and my dad, Don, for always supporting me through my journey. I would also like to thank my great team for getting me to this point.”

Kai also thanked her grandpa for providing access to excellent courses and always being there for her. She also appreciated her “Mormor” for her unwavering belief in her.

The golfer acknowledged her whole family for their constant encouragement and their role in motivating her to be the best version of herself.

She extended her thanks to her friends for their continuous support. Finally, she expressed her heartfelt appreciation to Coaches Janice and Jim for giving her the opportunity to pursue her goals. “I am supper excited to be a cane and represent the University of Miami. Gooo Canes! [sic],” she concluded.

For Kai, the future is brimming with endless possibilities. Donald’s granddaughter is ready to seize every opportunity that comes her way in business and sports with the support of her family.

I always thought housework was easy—something women just complained about. But when my wife left me alone for a day to handle everything myself, I quickly realized I was the problem.

I came home from work, dropped my keys on the table, and collapsed onto the couch. It had been a long day, and all I wanted was to relax.

The smell of something cooking drifted in from the kitchen, warm and inviting. Lucy was at the stove, stirring a pot. Danny stood on a chair beside her, his little hands busy peeling carrots.

Lucy glanced over her shoulder. “Jack, can you set the table?”

I barely looked up from my phone. “That’s your job.”

She didn’t respond right away. I heard her sigh, the same tired sigh I’d heard a hundred times before. Danny, of course, didn’t seem to notice.

“I’ll do it, Mommy!” he said, hopping down from his chair.

“Thanks, sweetheart,” Lucy said with a smile.

I shook my head. “You’re gonna turn him into a girl, you know.”

Lucy stiffened, but she didn’t turn around. Danny, on the other hand, frowned at me. “What’s wrong with helping, Daddy?”

“Boys don’t do housework, kid,” I said, leaning back on the couch.

Danny looked at Lucy, confused. She gave him a small pat on the back and handed him the silverware. “Go on, set the table,” she said softly.

I watched as Danny carefully placed forks and spoons on the table. He looked proud of himself, like he was doing something important.

The next day at work, I overheard Lucy’s friends inviting her to their annual conference. It was just an overnight trip, nothing big. At first, she hesitated. Then she looked thoughtful.

That night, she brought it up while I was watching TV. “Hey, my work conference is this week,” she said. “I’m going. I’ll be back by noon the next day.”

I glanced at her. “Okay?”

“You’ll need to take care of Danny and the house while I’m gone.”

I rolled my eyes. “That’s easy.”

Lucy smiled, but it wasn’t her usual smile. It was the kind that made me feel like I was missing something. “Good,” she said. Then, she went to pack her bag, and I texted my boss that I would be off tomorrow.

The next morning, I groaned as I rolled over in bed, squinting at the alarm clock. 7:45 AM.

Wait. 7:45?

Panic shot through me as I bolted upright. Lucy always woke me up when she got Danny ready for school. But she wasn’t here. Because she had left. And I had overslept.

“Danny!” I shouted, throwing off the covers and stumbling into the hallway. “Get up, we’re late!”

Danny shuffled out of his room, rubbing his eyes. “Where’s Mommy?”

“She’s at work,” I muttered, yanking open his dresser drawers. “Where are your clothes?”

“Mommy picks them.”

I exhaled sharply. Of course, she did. Digging through the drawer, I pulled out a wrinkled T-shirt and some sweatpants. “Here. Put these on.”

Danny frowned. “They don’t match.”

“It’s fine,” I said, tossing them to him. “Just hurry up.”

I ran to the kitchen to throw together breakfast. Lucy always had something ready—pancakes, eggs, toast—but I didn’t have time for that. I shoved two slices of bread into the toaster, grabbed a juice box, and turned around just as a loud snap came from behind me.

Smoke curled up from the toaster. I rushed over and yanked the black, burnt, and rock-hard toast out.

Danny wandered in, nose wrinkling. “Ew.”

“Just eat a banana,” I said, tossing one onto his plate.

“But I wanted pancakes.”

I groaned, rubbing my face. “Danny, we don’t have time for pancakes. Just eat what you can, we gotta go.”

Danny sighed but peeled the banana anyway.

I shoved him into his shoes, grabbed his backpack, and got him into the car, speeding off toward school.

On the way back, my stomach growled. I spotted a drive-through hot dog stand and pulled in, figuring it was the fastest way to get something in me. As I drove home, I took a big bite, barely paying attention, until I felt something cold and sticky spread across my chest.

I looked down. Bright red ketchup covered my shirt.

I cursed under my breath, gripping the wheel with one hand while dabbing at the stain with napkins. Great.

By the time I got home, my frustration had only grown. The shirt had to be washed, and since Lucy wasn’t there to do it, I had to figure it out myself. How hard could it be?

I walked up to the washing machine, staring at the buttons and dials like they were written in another language. Heavy load, delicate, permanent press? What did any of that even mean? I turned a knob, but nothing happened. I pressed a button. Still nothing.

After a minute of fumbling with it, I huffed in defeat and threw the shirt on the floor. Forget it. I’ll just grab another one.

As I reached for a clean shirt, I remembered I had an early meeting the next day. Lucy always ironed my work shirts. It wasn’t a big deal— I’d seen her do it before. Just press the iron down and smooth out the wrinkles. Simple.

I plugged the iron in, spread my best shirt over the ironing board, and pressed down.

Almost immediately, a sharp smell filled the air. Lifting the iron, I stared in horror at the giant hole now burned through my shirt.

I groaned and tossed it into the trash. Who even invented irons?

By now, my stomach was reminding me I hadn’t actually eaten much breakfast, so I decided to make lunch. A simple meal—chicken—nothing complicated. I pulled a frozen pack from the freezer, slapped it onto a pan, and turned the heat up.

Ten minutes later, thick smoke billowed from the stove. Coughing, I yanked the pan away, staring down at the blackened, shriveled mess. The smoke alarm beeped loudly, screeching in my ears. I grabbed a towel, flailing at the detector, finally silencing it.

Defeated, I turned to the sink, ready to clean up at least one disaster, but then I noticed something. The dishwasher was full of dirty dishes, and the buttons on it were just as confusing as the washing machine.

I pressed one. Nothing.

I twisted a dial. Still nothing.

Dropping the dish in the sink with a loud clank, I let out a heavy sigh and ran a hand through my hair.

I was exhausted.

This was supposed to be easy.

My dad always said housework was the simplest thing in the world. He used to sit on the couch, drinking his beer, while my mom rushed around cleaning. “Not a man’s job,” he’d say, shaking his head. “Women complain too much.”

I believed him.

But now, sitting in the middle of my own disaster, I wasn’t so sure.

By the time I picked Danny up from school, I was exhausted. My head pounded, my stomach growled, and my patience was hanging by a thread. I barely even responded when Danny climbed into the car, humming to himself.

The moment we stepped inside the house, he stopped short. His eyes widened as he looked around. Dishes were piled in the sink, the laundry basket overflowed, and a faint smell of burnt chicken still hung in the air.

Danny turned to me. “Daddy… what happened?”

I let out a long sigh, running a hand through my hair. “I don’t know, bud. I tried to do everything, but nothing went right.”

Instead of laughing or complaining, Danny gave me a thoughtful nod. “Okay. Let’s clean up.”

I stared at him. “Huh?”

“Mommy and I do it together all the time,” he said matter-of-factly. “I can show you.”

He walked straight to the washing machine, picked up my ketchup-stained shirt from the floor, and tossed it in. Without hesitation, he pressed the right buttons, turned the knob, and started the cycle. I blinked.

“How did you—”

“Mom taught me.” He shrugged like it was nothing and moved on.

Next, he opened the dishwasher, pulled out the racks, and began loading the dirty plates. I had spent half an hour earlier trying to figure it out, but Danny? He did it with the confidence of a professional.

I watched in silence as he wiped down the counter, tossed out the burnt chicken, and placed a fresh dish towel by the sink. At six years old, my son was more capable than I was.

A knot tightened in my chest.

“Why do you help so much?” I asked.

Danny grinned. “Because Mommy needs it.”

Those four words hit me harder than anything. Lucy didn’t just want Danny to learn life skills — she needed him to help because I never did.

For years, I had watched my father sit back while my mother worked herself to exhaustion. I never questioned it. I thought it was normal. But standing there, watching my son handle responsibilities that I had stubbornly ignored, I saw everything differently.

Lucy hadn’t been nagging. She hadn’t been dramatic. She had been tired, just like my mother had been. And I had been too blind to see it.

I swallowed hard, looking around the now-clean kitchen. “Danny?”

He looked up. “Yeah?”

“Thanks, buddy.”

Danny beamed, and at that moment, I knew things had to change.

The next evening, I came home from work and found Lucy and Danny in the kitchen. She was chopping vegetables while Danny stirred something in a bowl.

Lucy glanced up, smiling. “Hey. How was your day?”

I stepped forward, rubbing the back of my neck. “Better than yesterday.”

She smirked. “I’ll bet.”

For a moment, we stood there. Then she held up a knife. “Want to help me make dinner?”

A week ago, I would’ve laughed. I would’ve waved her off, gone to sit on the couch, and let her handle everything. But now, I saw things clearly.

I stepped forward. “Yeah. I do.”

Lucy’s eyebrows lifted slightly, but then she handed me a cutting board. I picked up a tomato and started slicing, clumsy but determined. Danny giggled, and Lucy smiled.

We weren’t just making dinner. We were finally working together.

Meryl Streep and Martin Short may have been keeping fans in the dark on their relationship, but Page Six has learned that the two have actually been dating for “well over a year now.”

A source tells us that the romance between the “Only Murders in the Building” co-stars was “completely unexpected” and also “took them by surprise.”

“Meryl couldn’t help but fall for Martin,” the insider shares. “He is a gentleman, he keeps her laughing and is an all around positive person. She loves being around him.”

According to the source, neither Streep, 75, nor Short, 74, “were looking for a relationship when they started dating.”

The pair’s “friends and family, including their kids, absolutely approve of their relationship and think they’re adorable together.”

Short and the “Devil Wears Prada” star’s romance comes after Page Six revealed in October 2023 that the latter secretly split from her husband, Don Gummer, in 2017.

The exes were married for 40 years. Streep previously dated actor John Cazale, whom she cared for until he died from lung cancer in March 1978.

The Tony Award winner, meanwhile, was wed to wife Nancy Dolman for three decades until she passed away from ovarian cancer in 2010.

“Meryl and Martin have bonded over the loss of their exes,” who both passed away from cancer, the insider says.

Our source tells Page Six that the duo are happy with the status of their relationship and have no plans to wed.

“Meryl is still legally married to Don but even if she were divorced, that’s just not something that she or Martin are interested in,” the insider explains. “They’re happy dating as boyfriend and girlfriend.”

“They’ve been friends for years and have several mutual friends.”

Although the couple has “traveled in the same social circles, they were never really on one another’s radar in terms of a romantic relationship.”

Reps for Streep and Short did not immediately respond to Page Six’s requests for comment.

Michelle Obama is back!

The former first lady made her first public appearance since Donald Trump’s inauguration took place in January.

On Thursday, Obama appeared alongside her brother, Craig Robinson, at the live taping of their new podcast, “IMO,” at SXSW in Austin, Texas.

The “Leave the World Behind” executive producer hit the stage wearing burnt orange pants and a matching jacket over a black top. She paired her look with black boots and wore her hair styled in bohemian braids.

Since the new year kicked off, Obama, 61, has been laying low from the public.

In fact, her last public appearance was in December 2024 on “The Jennifer Hudson Show.”

She skipped attending the funeral of former President Jimmy Carter on Jan. 9 and also declined to watch Trump, 78, be sworn into office on Jan. 20.

Michelle’s husband, Barack Obama, attended both events solo.

However, Page Six exclusively reported that the “Becoming” author was on an “extended holiday vacation” in Hawaii.

As fans continued to wonder about Michelle’s whereabouts, rumors surfaced that she and Barack, 63, were having marital issues.

However, the former president shut down the speculation by posting a sweet birthday shoutout to the “love of [his] life” and by sharing a loved-up Valentine’s Day selfie of them.

“Thirty-two years together and you still take my breath away. Happy Valentine’s Day, @MichelleObama!” he wrote on Instagram Feb. 14.

Sources told Page Six that Michelle has been “checked out” of Washington, DC, life since their family left the White House in 2017.

“They don’t pretend that they have this Camelot relationship,” a source who worked with the Obamas told us. “They’re not trying to present that they’re this magical couple.”

Barack and Michelle met in 1989 and tied the knot three years later.

They share daughters Malia, 26, and Sasha, 23.

I used to dream about weddings.

Not in the fairytale-princess way, with flowing white dresses and ballroom receptions. No, my dreams were much simpler. I just wanted to sit in the pews, watch my siblings exchange vows, and be part of their happiness.

But I never got that chance.

Because every single one of them left me out.

Oak, my oldest brother, got married when I was ten.

“You’re too young, Lena,” they said.

Then at twelve, another wedding, but I was still not allowed. At fifteen, I begged Ivy, my sister, to make an exception, but she gave me that fake, sympathetic smile.

“If I let you come, Lena, I’d have to let other kids come too. It wouldn’t be fair, you know that.”

When would it be fair? I wondered for years.

When I was seventeen, my brother, Silas, got married. By then, I had stopped caring. His twin brother, Ezra’s wedding happened soon after, and I didn’t even ask if I could attend.

Honestly, what was the point? Why did I have to beg to be a part of my siblings’ big days?

But the heartbreaking part? My step-cousin, who had just turned eighteen, made the cut. And I didn’t.

I sent a half-hearted congrats and spent the evening in my room with my boyfriend, Rowan, who’s now my fiancé.

That was the last time I let myself feel hurt over them.

So when I started planning my wedding, I made a simple decision:

None of them would be invited.

“Are you sure, Lena?” Rowan asked when he looked at our wedding invitation mock-ups. “I know that they’ve been… problematic. But do you want to do the same thing? Or do you want to show them that you’re better than them? That you can do things differently?”

“I’m not inviting them, Rowan,” I said. “I want them to realize that their actions have consequences, and this is one of them. They don’t get to be there. They don’t get to share in our big day. They don’t get to laugh or cry or clap or throw rice and confetti. Nope.”

“Whatever you want, my love,” he replied, pouring a glass of wine for me. “It’s just that we’re twenty-three years old, you know… We’re getting married young. And I don’t want you to regret not having your mother there.”

I smiled at his thoughtfulness.

“No regrets, Rowan. I promise.”

So, the invitations went out, and it didn’t take long for my family to notice.

They stormed my apartment like a SWAT team, demanding answers from me.

“Why didn’t we get an invite to your wedding, Lena?” Oak asked, his arms crossed.

I leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed right back.

I had waited for this moment. I had waited years for this moment…

“You didn’t want me at your weddings. Literally none of you wanted me there. So, guess what? I don’t want you at mine. It’s simple logic.”

Silence took over my apartment.

Their faces flickered between confusion and outrage.

“That’s different!” Ivy snapped after a moment. “There was alcohol and rowdy uncles! We were protecting you, Lena!”

I laughed. It came out ugly and bitter.

“I didn’t care about the party. I wanted to see you get married. You guys are my family. My older siblings, who I loved most in the world. All I wanted was to be included.”

Then, my mother, Marigold, stepped in.

“This is cruel!” she shouted, her voice shrill. “I want all my kids together on your beautiful day! Lena!”

I tilted my head.

“That’s ironic, Mom,” I said, glancing at my siblings. “But you really didn’t seem to care when I was left out of their beautiful days.”

The guilt was starting to creep in. I could see it on their faces. My siblings exchanged awkward glances, shifting on their feet. I could feel it. The discomfort and the realization.

“It wasn’t personal, Lena,” Oak muttered.

I let that hang in the air for a moment.

“It was personal to me,” I said.

Another silence. More shifting. Ivy tried to get my dog’s attention. He ignored her.

Finally, I sighed, wanting answers. Or a resolution of some kind.

We couldn’t go on like this.

“You know what? Fine. I’ll invite you. But only on one condition.”

They perked up instantly, desperate for a way to fix this.

“What is it?” my mother asked.

“Tell me everything. No lies. No bullshit. Just the truth. Tell me, why was I really never included?”

I folded my arms tighter. For a second, I thought of how rude I’d been, I hadn’t offered my family any tea or coffee.

But that thought flew away quickly when I realized why they were here.

They all went quiet. Too quiet.

And my stomach twisted. There was more to this. I could sense it.

Then, Oak rubbed his beard and exhaled sharply.

“You really don’t know, do you?” he said.

“Know what?”

A weird tension filled the room. My siblings all exchanged looks, as if daring one another to be the one to speak.

What could they know that I was so in the dark about? What secret had been so well hidden that the thought of uttering it aloud shocked my siblings?

Then, finally, Ivy sat down, clasping her hands in her lap.

“Lena… you’re not actually our sister.”

Her words hit me like a slap to the face.

“What?” I gasped, feeling faint.

“You’re our cousin,” Ivy continued. “Our dad’s brother was raising you alone when he got sick and passed on. Mom and Dad took you in. But… we don’t know who or where your mother is.”

The room started spinning.

“No. That’s not… That is not true! You’re pranking me, Ivy!”

My father, Ellis, stared at the floor. He was sitting on the armchair that he always sat on when he came to my apartment. His silent pose commanded authority, but now?

Now, he just looked like a broken man.

“Darling, we were going to tell you one day…”

“When?!” my voice cracked. “When I turned forty? Fifty? Sixty? On my deathbed? Or when you thought I was ready?”

Nobody spoke. They barely took breaths.

And then, the final knife to the heart came from Ezra.

“We were just kids. And you, Lena. My God. You needed attention. You weren’t our sibling, so we kind of distanced ourselves. I’m sure you felt it. But I guess you thought it was the age thing, huh?”

I turned to look at him slowly, barely recognizing the person in front of me.

“You distanced yourselves?” my voice was eerily calm. “You mean you decided that I wasn’t family.”

He didn’t deny it.

I let out a slow, shaky breath, gripping the back of the chair beside me. I needed something to ground me.

My entire life, I had been fighting to be part of something that was never mine in the first place.

I wasn’t their sister. I wasn’t… I was just… the kid they tolerated.

I barely remember leaving. I just walked out of my house and into the evening air, and I kept walking. I don’t know how long I wandered, but eventually, I ended up on the curb outside Rowan’s apartment.

Four blocks away from my own apartment.

I sat there, numb, watching the traffic lights change from red to green, over and over, like my brain was stuck in a loop.

At some point, the door creaked open. Footsteps.

Then warmth. Rowan’s hoodie draping over my shoulders as he crouched beside me.

He didn’t ask what happened. He just sat next to me, close enough that our knees touched, close enough to remind me that I wasn’t alone in this world.

For a long time, I just stared at the cracks in the pavement, trying to breathe around the ache in my chest.

Finally, I found my voice.

“I don’t think I exist,” I whispered.

“Lena…” Rowan didn’t flinch, but he held me tighter.

“I mean, I do. But not really… I don’t belong anywhere,” I continued. “I spent my whole life trying to prove that I was part of them. But I was never their sister. I was never even an afterthought.”

Rowan exhaled slowly. I knew that he was trying to put the puzzle pieces together. And honestly? I wasn’t giving him much. Just bits and pieces as they came out of my mouth.

“What do you need?” he asked in the quietest voice.

“I don’t know. I thought I needed a wedding, love. A big, perfect day where they had to sit in the audience and watch me for once. I thought that would make it even.”

I turned to look at him. His face was soft in the streetlight glow, patient as always.

“But I don’t care anymore,” I added. “I don’t want to stand at the altar thinking about them. I don’t want them sitting there, pretending that they love me when all they ever did was tolerate me.”

Rowan’s fingers brushed against mine.

“Then don’t.”

“What?”

“Don’t give them your day, Lena,” he said.

He turned, fully facing me now.

“Let them keep their fake apologies and guilty stares. Let them live with it. But you?” He tucked my hair behind my ear. “You don’t owe them a performance, my love. You don’t need an audience to be happy.”

His words cracked something open inside me.

I had spent years trying to fit into a space that didn’t want me. Years trying to make them see me, value me, and love me the way I had loved them.

But Rowan had always seen me. Not because he had to. But because he chose to.

The realization made my breath hitch.

“Let’s not do the wedding,” I said.

Rowan searched my face, as if making sure I really meant it.

“Are you sure?”

I nodded, heart pounding.

“We were only doing it because we thought the other wanted it. But a big wedding isn’t us. It never was.”

He smiled.

Slow, steady, warm.

“No, it wasn’t.”

I hesitated.

“Then, what do you want to do?”

Rowan tilted his head slightly, thinking. Then, without hesitation—

“I want to wake up next to you every day for the rest of my life.”

The breath left my lungs in a sharp exhale.

He took my hands, rubbing slow circles over my knuckles.

“I don’t care where it happens, or when, or who’s watching. I just want you, Lena. That’s it. That’s the whole dream.”

My vision blurred with tears and I twisted my engagement ring.

For years, I had been chasing the wrong people, begging them to love me.

But this man?

The one sitting beside me in the cold, the one offering me a lifetime of love without conditions… he was the only one I had ever truly needed.

I squeezed his hand back and closed my eyes. Feeling settled.

“Then, let’s elope.”

His lips curled into the softest, most real smile I had ever seen.

“Hell yes!”

And just like that, for the first time in my life, I made a choice that was only for me.

The courthouse smelled like old paper and fresh ink.

It wasn’t grand. No towering stained-glass windows, no aisle lined with flowers, no teary-eyed audience.

It was just Rowan and me, standing before a city clerk in a quiet, sunlit office.

And yet, I had never felt so much joy.

“Are you ready?” he murmured, searching my face.

I nodded.

“More than ever.”

The officiant smiled and cleared her throat.

“We’ll keep it simple. Do you take this beautiful woman to be your lawfully wedded wife?”

Rowan’s lip twitched.

“Absolutely.”

A laugh bubbled up in my chest.

Then the officiant turned to me.

“And do you, Lena, take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband?”

I looked at Rowan, my heart so full it ached.

“With everything I have.”

“Then, by the power vested in me by the state of…”

I didn’t hear the rest. Because Rowan was already kissing me, deep and soft, like he had been waiting his whole life to do it.

And maybe he had. Maybe I had, too.

“Usually, people wait until I say ‘I now pronounce you…'” the clerk coughed politely.

We signed the papers, took our rings out of Rowan’s pocket, and slid them onto each other’s fingers. Just like that, it was done.

No forced smiles. No fake congratulations. No people in the audience pretending to love me.

Just me and the man who had never, ever made me feel like an afterthought.

As we stepped outside, the sun hit my face, warm and golden, like the universe itself was telling me something.

You made the right choice.

And it was true.

When he asked me to leave my career in finance to be a stay-at-home mom, he promised I’d never have to worry about anything. I loved him, so I agreed.

We had twin baby girls, Grace and Ella, who became our entire world.

And then, he died.

The call came on a gray afternoon. James had been rushing home from a business trip, eager to see us. The roads were slick, and his car skidded off the highway. The officer on the phone kept talking, saying things like instant impact and no suffering.

But all I heard was the sound of my own heartbeat thudding in my ears.

The days blurred. The funeral came and went. I clung to my daughters, to the last voicemail James had left me, replaying it just to hear his voice.

I thought losing him was the worst thing that could ever happen to me.

I was wrong.

I had spent hours at the cemetery after the funeral. I had just wanted a few more moments with my husband before I went back to reality.

Judith, my mother-in-law, had taken the girls home.

“We’ll talk when you get back,” she said. “I’ll get the twins bathed and settled in.”

When I returned home from the funeral, Judith was waiting for me.

She sat in the living room, her back straight, hands folded in her lap, staring at me with that same cold, calculated look she always had.

“This house belongs to me, April,” she said. “I let James and you live here, but now, I’m taking it back.”

My breath caught. I felt like someone had just pushed me.

“Judith, I…”

I thought I misheard her.

“What?”

She exhaled sharply, as if already bored of the conversation.

“James never changed the deed,” she said. “I gave him the option after the twins were born, but he never followed through. So the house is still in my name. You can stay. But you’ll sleep in the garage.”

I stared at her, searching for a flicker of humanity. Some sign that she was speaking out in grief, that she would take it back any second now.

But she didn’t.

She just sat there, waiting for me to break.

She wanted me to beg her. I knew she did.

I looked at my daughters, their big, innocent, and sleepy eyes watching me from the couch. They had already lost their father. I couldn’t let them lose their home, too.

So, I agreed.

The garage smelled like oil and rust. At night, the cold crept through the thin camping mat and duvet I slept on. The cold seeped into my bones every night. When it got too unbearable, I curled up in the backseat of the car, my arms wrapped around myself for warmth.

I told myself it was temporary.

James had left money for us, but legal things took time. And I just had to be patient. Because until the lawyer finalized everything, I had nothing.

No job, no access to our accounts, nowhere to go.

And even if I had someone to call, I couldn’t imagine saying the words out loud. The shame would have choked me.

I existed in silence. I only stepped into the house to cook and eat with the girls. To do their laundry and kiss them goodnight. I moved around my own home like a stranger.

Now, even a month later, Judith barely acknowledged me. Why would she, anyway? She had won.

One afternoon, I was sitting in the living room with my girls. The crayons rolled across the coffee table, scattering in every direction. Grace and Ella sat cross-legged on the floor, their tiny hands gripping their colors of choice, faces scrunched in deep concentration.

“I’m drawing Daddy’s eyes blue!” Grace said, pressing hard into the paper. “Like the ocean.”

Ella tilted her head, studying her drawing.

“Mine is smiling. Daddy always smiled,” she said, a smile creeping onto her face.

I swallowed past the lump in my throat.

“He did,” I murmured.

The air felt thick, heavy with the weight of unspoken things. The only sounds were the scratch of crayon against the paper and the occasional shuffle of tiny feet against the rug.

I ran my fingers along the edge of a blank sheet, willing myself to keep it together.

Then, Ella spoke.

“Mommy?”

I looked up.

“Yeah, baby? What’s wrong?”

She hesitated, chewing her bottom lip.

“Why do you sleep in the garage?”

My hands stilled.

Grace looked up too, her expression open and trusting. It was the same expression James would have on his face when he wanted the girls to tell him about their nightmares.

“Yeah,” she said. “Grandma sleeps in your bed. Why don’t you sleep there?”

A sharp, twisting pain settled in my chest.

I forced a smile, tucking a strand of hair behind Ella’s ear.

“Because sometimes grown-ups have to make hard decisions, baby girls. It’s not always nice, but there’s always a bigger reason.”

Ella frowned. I could see thoughts formulating in her head.

“But you’re Daddy’s wife,” she said simply.

The words knocked the air from my lungs.

“I am,” I whispered. “I am Daddy’s wife, yes.”

Grace blinked up at me, waiting. I hadn’t realized that my girls were holding onto these thoughts.

“Then why doesn’t Grandma get the big bed?”

I opened my mouth, but no words came.

A creak sounded from the hallway. I glanced up, and there, just beyond the corner…

Stood Judith.

She wasn’t watching me. She was watching them.

Her hands gripped the doorframe, her face pale, her lips pressed into a thin line. For the first time, she looked like a woman who had made a terrible mistake.

But she didn’t say a word.

She just stood there, listening. And when I didn’t answer my daughters, she turned and walked away.

And then, one night, there was a knock at the garage door. I opened it to find Judith standing there.

But she wasn’t the same woman who had banished me. For the first time in a long time, I looked at her.

Her usually pristine hair was unkempt, the gray streaks more pronounced. Her face, always so rigid with control, was pale and sunken. Her lips were dry and cracked.

And her hands… her hands trembled uncontrollably.

I frowned.

Had she always been this thin? I cooked every day, making sure that there was more than enough food for all four of us. Had Judith not been eating?

She swallowed hard, and when she spoke, her voice cracked.

“April, please.”

I said nothing.

She blinked rapidly, as if trying to hold back tears.

“I made a terrible mistake.”

I waited.

She exhaled shakily, then whispered.

“I’m sick…” she said.

Her lips pressed together, and for the first time, I saw something I had never seen in her before.

Fear.

I should’ve felt vindicated. I should have relished the moment she stood before me, desperate and vulnerable. But all I felt was exhaustion.

“What do you want?” I asked, my voice hollow.

Her hands tightened into fists at her sides.

“The doctors say it’s bad. And I can’t stop thinking that maybe… maybe this is my punishment.”

I crossed my arms. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing.

“For what? For throwing your widowed daughter-in-law into a garage?”

She flinched, as if I had slapped her.

“For everything, April. For the way I treated you, darling. For the way I pushed people away.”

Silence stretched between us.

Then, she reached into her coat and pulled out a stack of papers.

“I transferred the house to you and the girls, April,” she said. “It’s yours now. Officially. As it always should have been.”

“Why?” My stomach clenched.

“Because I have no one else.”

I stared at the papers in my hands. This is what I had been waiting for, proof that I never had to beg. That I never had to fear being thrown away again.

But Judith’s face was lined with regret. And in that moment, I saw her not as my personal tormentor but as a woman who had finally realized the weight of her own cruelty.

I stepped inside.

“Come inside,” I said.

Her breath hitched.

“Oh, it’s cold in here,” she said.

“I know, but you get used to it,” I replied.

For the first time, the woman who had once looked at me like I was nothing let herself cry.

The guest room still didn’t feel like hers. I could see it. The way she moved around it, like a stranger, making sure that everything was in the exact same spot it had been.

Judith sat stiffly on the edge of the bed, hands folded in her lap, staring at the cup of tea I had placed on the nightstand.

The soft glow of the bedside lamp cast shadows across her face, making her look small somehow.

It was the first night since I had moved back into the house, with Judith moving into the guest room. Everything felt… strange.

And I wasn’t sure how I felt to be in the same room that James and I had shared for so long. But I was just grateful to be back inside.

Now, I sat across from Judith, pulling my legs up onto the chair, cradling my own mug between my hands.

The silence stretched, thick and uneasy but not hostile.

She was the one who broke it.

“I have cancer,” she said quietly. “Stage three.”

I exhaled slowly. We both knew it was serious, but hearing the words still sent a strange, sinking feeling through my chest.

“I don’t know what’s going to happen next,” she admitted.

Her hands trembled slightly as she traced the rim of her mug.

“I’m scared, April.”

“I know,” I said, nodding. “You’re not alone, though, Judith. I’m here. The twins are here for cuddles and laughs.”

“I don’t deserve you… after everything…”

“Probably not,” I said, cutting her off before she could spiral into guilt. “But Grace and Ella love you. And whether you like it or not, you’re part of this family.”

Her throat bobbed, and she let out a shaky breath.

“James would want us to take care of each other.”

“Yeah,” I replied. “He would.”

Judith exhaled sharply, rubbing a hand over her face.

“God, I’m going to be eating so much damn soup, aren’t I?”

I snorted.

“Oh, absolutely! Soup, herbal tea, all the nutritious food you never wanted to touch before.”

She made a face.

“Can’t we just pretend wine is medicinal?”

I laughed, and to my surprise, Judith laughed too.

It wasn’t perfect. It wasn’t easy. But in that moment, I knew we were going to be okay.

Because despite everything, we were family.

After that, I took Judith to every doctor appointment possible. I wanted to get back to work, but I figured that this was more important for the moment.

We had the money that James left behind, and we would use it until I got back into action.

The doctor’s office smelled sterile, the antiseptic strong. Judith sat beside me, hands folded tightly in her lap, her knuckles bone-white.

Dr. Patel, a man in his fifties with kind eyes, adjusted his glasses and flipped through Judith’s chart.

“The biopsy confirms it’s stage three,” he said gently. “We need to start treatment as soon as possible. Chemo, radiation… It won’t be easy, but it’s still treatable.”

Judith nodded stiffly, as if the diagnosis hadn’t just put a clock on her life.

I glanced at her, waiting for her to say something. She didn’t.

“Will she need surgery?” I asked, filling the silence.

The doctor gave a small nod.

“Eventually, yes. But first, we focus on shrinking the tumor. This is going to be a long road.”

“I know,” Judith said, letting out a breath.

It was the first time I’d ever seen her look small.

“Do you have a support system? Family who can help?” he asked.

Judith hesitated.

“She has us,” I said, my voice steady. “She won’t go through this alone.”

I reached out and covered her hand with mine. Judith’s fingers twitched beneath mine, like she wasn’t used to being held onto.

“Good, that makes all the difference,” the doctor said, smiling.

Judith didn’t speak the whole way home. But when we pulled into the driveway, she exhaled shakily.

“Thank you, April. Thank you for being wonderful.”

“We’ll get through this,” I said.

For the first time, she nodded like she believed me.