I sacrificed everything to raise my granddaughter. I worked late, gave up my goals, and always prioritized her happiness over my own.
How did she repay me? By evicting me from my own home, as if I were some antiquated relic — all because I didn’t fit the picture-perfect image she wanted to project to her followers.
Do you know how young people are these days? Glued to their phones, they watch strangers do goofy dances, lip-sync, and pull ridiculous pranks. They scroll for hours, giggling at strangers.
My granddaughter Lily is one of them. She films everything — her breakfast, her outfits, her makeup tutorials — and thousands of people watch her. She’s what they call an “influencer.”
I never understood the obsession with sharing every moment online, but I supported her anyway. After all, I was the one who raised her.
When my daughter and son-in-law passed away in a vehicle accident, Lily was eleven years old. My world disintegrated, but I didn’t have time to mourn. I had a tiny kid that needed me.
I gave up my calm retirement and returned to work as a seamstress, taking any extra jobs I could. I put everything I had into raising her.
I was present for every skinned knee, nightmare, and school recital. I packed her lunches, assisted her with her homework, and held her hand when she was terrified.
When she discovered social media, I encouraged her, even though I didn’t see why people needed to know what she had for dinner.
I’ve never asked for much. Just respect. A little love.
But everything changed when Lily turned 21 and tasted internet fame.
She began excluding me. She stopped inviting me to dinners when her influencer friends came around. She rolled her eyes as I asked simple questions. And then one night, I overheard her on a livestream, laughing with her followers:
— You don’t understand how difficult it is to live with my grandmother… She still thinks of hashtags as waffle makers!
Her pals laughed. And I froze in the corridor.
My granddaughter — the child I loved more than anything — was ashamed of me.
That broke my heart. But the real betrayal came a few weeks later.
One morning, she sat me down with her phone in hand.
— Grandma, I believe it is time for you to move out.
— What?
— I love you, but my content is suffering,” she said, dragging the words out as if she were making a huge sacrifice. — My followers find you gloomy.
She turned the screen to face me.
Who is the old lady in the background?
Lily, your aesthetic is flawless, however the grandmother vibe isn’t working.
I swallowed hard.
— So you’re forcing me out because some strangers on the internet believe I’m too old?
She exhaled.
— It’s not only that. My pals aren’t comfortable partying here. What if I start dating a prominent influencer? Do you think he will want to hang around in a residence that smells like lavender and mothballs?
That’s when I realized… I had raised a stranger.
I didn’t argue. I stood up, went to my room, and quietly packed my things. Her words rang in my head like echoes I couldn’t silence.
When I walked out with my suitcase, Lily already had her phone on a tripod.
— Wait, wait! — she called. — I need to record this.
— Record what?
— A goodbye video! My fans love emotional content. I’ll make it look really dramatic, like I’m saying goodbye to my sweet grandma. Hardest day of my life and all that…
I departed without saying anything else.
I moved into the “senior living community” she had chosen. Lily believed she had won. She’d gotten rid of me like an old garment that no longer fit her brand.
But she had forgotten something.
Her grandmother was not helpless.
While she chased followers and likes, I spent my life building real relationships.
One of my former clients was a lawyer. Another? A journalist with a serious following.
With their assistance, I revealed Lily.
The journalist published an article about how the internet’s so-called darling kicked her own grandmother out of the house to protect her online reputation. It went viral.
The post includes screenshots of her livestreams ridiculing me, the false tearful goodbye video, and the GoFundMe campaign she set up “to help grandma” – from which she kept every money.
The backlash was quick. Sponsors dropped her. Her follower count fell. Comments came in.
And Lily? She vanished. Probably couch-surfing at a friend’s place.
I thought that would be the end of our relationship.
But one night, there was a knock at my door.
It was her.
She didn’t look like the confident influencer anymore. Her hair was messy, her eyes red and puffy.
— Grandma… I lost everything. No one supports me anymore. I have nowhere to go. Please… I know I don’t deserve it, but… give me another chance?
I stared at her for a long time.
— Lily, you threw me out like I was nothing. You humiliated me for likes and clout. And now that you’ve lost it all, you expect me to welcome you back?
Her shoulders trembled. She opened her mouth to speak, but I raised my hand.
— If you truly regret what you did, prove it. Not with words. With actions. Go out there and become someone better. And maybe, just maybe, this door will open again someday.
Then I did something I never imagined I would do to my own granddaughter.
I closed the door on her.
I overheard her sobbing on the other end.
But I did not open it. Not this time.
A few days later, she did something unexpected.
She went live. However, this time it was not for attention.
– I lied to all of you,” she admitted. — I hurt the only person who loved me unconditionally for the sake of fame. I do not deserve your support. I need to change. So, this is goodbye. For now.
She ended the livestream. She deleted her accounts. disappeared off the internet.
Months have passed.
I heard from others that she landed a job at a tiny café. She quit pursuing likes and began volunteering at a senior center.
There are no cameras. There are no phony tears. Just actual work.
Then one day, I spotted her.
She was assisting an old woman into a chair and spoke to her gently. There were no phones nearby.
It was real.
And for the first time in a long time, I recognized the girl I had reared.
The girl who once helped me bake cookies and held my hand when she was terrified.
I cried.
But this time…
The tears were sincere.
