He Chose My Step-sister Over My Dying Daughter

"Mommy! I want to see the lanterns!" Stacey squealed, her eyes sparkling with excitement. That was my daughter’s final wish— to witness the Lantern Festival one last time.

I pleaded with Alpha Maximus, her father, to grant her this dying request. Stacey was gravely ill, and our time together was running out.

"Carrie, I have a lot of things to do, but I’ll try to take her to the festival," Alpha Maximus would always say, his familiar excuse echoing in my mind.

I could see the flicker of hope in Stacey's eyes, believing that maybe, just maybe, he wouldn’t let her down this time.

"Mom, I want to fly my lantern, and I hope Daddy comes with me," she said, her smile fragile and tender.

"Of course, darling. We’ll just hope for the best," I reassured her, fighting back the tremor in my voice. "But remember, Mommy will always be with you."

Friday evening arrived—the night of the festival. I waited, hoping Maximus would show up. Instead, I received a message: he couldn’t make it; work was keeping him.

"Where's Daddy?" Stacey asked, the shadow of disappointment creeping into her eyes, cutting me deeper than any knife.

"Daddy might be a little late, sweetie, but don’t worry. We’ll have a wonderful night, just you and Mommy, okay?" I forced a smile, but the disappointment mirrored in her eyes was a reflection of my heartbreak.

At the festival, we bought a lantern together. We lit it and watched it ascend, a tiny star climbing against the darkening sky.

Stacey snuggled closer, her tiny hand clutching my arm. "What did you wish for, baby?" I asked, my voice barely a whisper.

Her eyes, bright as the stars she longed for, met mine. "I wish to be with the stars, Mommy, so Daddy could see me shining." Her smile, a beacon of innocence, shattered my heart into a million pieces.

That night, Stacey’s wish was fulfilled — she joined the lanterns, soaring toward the stars and the moon.

Two weeks later, I stood at her graveside, placing delicate flowers on her small plot. Tears spilled down my face, blurring the inscription on her headstone.

My phone suddenly beeped so I took it in my pocket. There's a notification from my stepsister's social media account and it caught my attention.

It was a cheerful beach photo where Maximus and my stepsister, Lalaina, grinning wide.

The caption read: "[A happy trip with Max! You're the best buddy ever! #Throwback]"

The date? The same day Stacey died—the day he’d abandoned her.

I slammed my phone shut, my fists clenching tight. Those two, carefree and oblivious, living their lives while my daughter lay six feet under? The injustice seared through me.

Back home, I began packing my bags. There was no reason to stay with Maximus anymore. He’d found a replacement.

As I descended the stairs, luggage in tow, I encountered the sight of Maximus and Lalaina. He was carrying her, displaying their affection openly. Lalaina gave me a smirk, saying *I have your husband now.*

"Carrie! Sorry, I forgot to tell you Max and I went to the beach. Hope you’re not mad, sister?" Lalaina’s voice dripped with mockery.

I forced a smile. "Of course! Do whatever you want. I won’t mind." Inside, I was boiling, wanting nothing more than to end their smug existence.

As I maneuvered around them, Maximus stepped into my path.

"Where are you going, Carrie?" His tone was serious, though a hint of derision lingered.

"Don’t tell me you’re being dramatic again?"

"Let her do what she wants, Max. My sister's always like that. Dramatic and delusional," Lalaina chimed in, her voice thick with venom.

Taking a deep breath, I crossed my arms. "Lalaina? Do you think I’m being dramatic after losing my child? Hmm?"

Guilt flickered across her face. I knew she’d deliberately prevented Maximus from attending the lantern festival.

Maximus grabbed my arm, his grip tight. "You can’t just walk out on me like this, Carrie!"

"And why not? I have every right to leave you, Max! You weren’t there for our daughter when she died! You were with your mistress!" I spat, pointing at him and then at Lalaina.

He shook his head, his indifference infuriating. "Shut up! You’re just making a fuss! Stop trying to manipulate me!"

My jaw dropped. "You think I made up my daughter’s death? You’re pathetic!"

"Carrie, you’re such a drama queen. You always use your daughter to get my pity. Don’t deny it; it’s your tactic. And I know you’re jealous of me," Lalaina hissed.

"Stay out of this, Lalaina! You have no right to invalidate my feelings. You’ve never understood what it’s like to lose a child!" I roared.

Maximus remained unmoved, unconvinced. "Where’s your proof that Stacey died?"

Disbelief washed over me. What kind of father was he? I regretted marrying a man who had never truly been a father to our child.

"You want proof? Go to the cemetery. You’ll find her name on a gravestone," I said my words laden with bitter finality.

Maximus swallowed hard, the denial finally cracking. "I have no time for this nonsense, Carrie," he muttered, turning away.

"No time, huh? I’m not surprised," I retorted, my voice laced with sarcasm.

"You’re right, Carrie. He has no time for you. He never really loved you," Lalaina sneered, following Maximus out.

The door slammed shut, leaving me alone with the crushing weight of my loss and the bitter sting of betrayal.