Reddit Stories - BETRAYED The Day I Ended My Helping Hand - A Tale Of BACKSTABBING And BETRAYAL

Episode Date: June 26, 2025

#redditstories #askreddit #aita #backstabbing #betrayal #helpinghand #storytime #truestorySummary: A gripping tale of betrayal unfolds as a kind gesture leads to deceit and treachery. The narrator's trust is shattered by a shocking act of backstabbing, revealing the dark side of human nature and the consequences of misplaced faith in others.Tags: redditstories, askreddit, reddit, aita, tifu, betrayal, backstabbing, helpinghand, storytime, truestory, trust, deceit, treachery, darkside, humannature, consequences, misplacedfaith, shockingact, grippingtale, shatteredtrustBecome a supporter of this podcast: https://www.spreaker.com/podcast/reddit-stories--6237355/support.

I hope you enjoy this story. Dill and her companion insulted me while mocking me in secret, causing me to cease offering assistance to them. Several months later, they fell victim to a fraud and reached out for help. Begging for help. You don't get to 62 without collecting a few battle scars and stories to tell. I've been through enough in my life to know when to walk away, when to stand my ground, and when to let things roll off my back.

That's the wisdom age and experience give you, especially after serving in the military for decades. After retiring from active duty, I settled into what I thought would be a peaceful life in a quiet suburban neighborhood. But retirement doesn't mean sitting on your hands all day, watching the world go by from a rocking chair on the porch. No, sir, that's not my style. I've always been a man of action, and I wasn't about to let retirement change that. So, I found that purpose in coaching baseball for kids at a local club. There's something about the crack of a bat and the smell of fresh cut grass that keeps me young. Teaching those kids gives me a sense of purpose, watching them develop their skills and grow as individuals. It's my way of giving back to the community,

you know? Plus, it keeps me active and engaged, which is crucial when you're my age. Now, I'm single these days. My wife, God rest her soul, passed away four years ago due to COVID. It was a tough blow, losing your partner of 40 years. We've been through thick and thin together, and suddenly, she was gone. But life goes on, doesn't it? You either learn to move forward or you get left behind. I have a son who's married now, and they recently had a baby. When I first laid eyes on my granddaughter, I swear my heart grew three sizes. She's got her grandmother's eyes, you know? I always wanted to have a daughter, but fate had other plans.

We couldn't conceive after our son, so he remained our only child. Maybe that's why I was so quick to jump in and help when they came to me, hands outstretched, a little over eight months ago. My granddaughter had just been born, and like a lot of young couples these days, they weren't over their heads financially. Both of them worked full-time jobs, which is admirable, but they were struggling to find affordable childcare. We all know daycare costs an arm and a leg these days, and hiring a nanny? Forget about it. They couldn't swing it without going into debt. So, after my daughter-in-law's

maternity leave was over, I stepped up and offered to watch my granddaughter. Why not, right? I've got the time, and I love that little bundle of joy. Plus, it would give me the chance to bond with her, something I didn't always get to do when my son was young because I was mostly deployed. It was my chance to make up for lost time, in a way. For the past eight months, I'd been doing just that, babysitting my granddaughter during the day while my son and daughter-in-law go to work. I didn't ask for anything in return, no money, no favors, just the satisfaction of knowing

I was helping my family. It seemed like a win-win situation for everyone involved. My routine became clockwork. After my morning baseball class, I'd head over to their house. By that time, my daughter-in-law would be ready to leave for work. I'd spend the day with the baby, keeping her busy with activities, taking her for walks, playing with her, changing diapers, the whole nine yards. By the time the day ends, I'd stay at their place until my son and daughter-in-law came home from work,

just to make sure everything was in order before heading back to my own house. It isn't easy work, let me tell you. Chasing after a baby all day can wear you out faster than a 10-mile ruck march with a full pack. But it isn't unbearable either. I love my granddaughter, and that's enough to keep me going. Plus, I figured it was good for my health. Who needs a gym membership when you've got an energetic little one to keep up with? However, there's something about my daughter-in-law that's always made me feel uncomfortable.

She's never been outright rude to me, but there's always this underlying tension, a coldness in her attitude. At first, I couldn't quite put my finger on it. I chalked it up to new parent stress or maybe just a generational gap. But as time went on, I started to think it might be about my appearance. You see, I've served my country and I've taken bullets for it. I've got a gun to shot scar on my right ear that makes it look like someone took a bite out of it. My face is weathered and rugged, lined with the stories of a life lived hard and fast. I'm no movie star, that's for sure. And I started to get the feeling that my daughter-in-law found my appearance unpleasant. The coldness was bearable at first. I've dealt with worse in my time. But for the

last two to three months, there's been something more. My daughter-in-law has this friend named Lydia, who often drops by in the evening. Sometimes she arrives with my daughter-in-law when she returns from work. Usually, I play with my granddaughter on the front lawn in the evening. It's our little routine. We roll around in the grass, play peek-a-boo, and I tell her stories about her daddy when he was little.

When my daughter-in-law arrives, she typically freshenes up and picks up the baby from the lawn, and then I leave. But on the days Lydia comes, it's different. My daughter-in-law doesn't come out. She spends time with her friend and doesn't attend to the baby. So I end up overstaying to give her time to hang out with Lydia. Now, I don't know Lydia that well, but from the day I saw her for the first time,

I didn't like her. And trust me, I'm not one to judge people too quickly. You don't survive in the military by making snap judgments about people. But there's something about Lydia that just doesn't sit right with me. Maybe it's the way she carries herself, like she's God's gift to the world. There's an air of arrogance about her, like she thinks she's better than everyone else in the room. In my day, we had a saying for people like that, all swagger and no substance. Maybe it's me just being old-fashioned.

But I believe you can learn a lot about a person by how they treat others, especially those they think can't do anything for them. And Lydia? Well, she treated me like I was invisible. Like I was nothing more than a piece of furniture in the room. Whenever Lydia is over, she and my daughter-in-law sit in the living room or the kitchen, chatting and laughing like a couple of schoolgirls. I didn't mind that part at first.

Everyone needs friends, right? But every time I passed by them or entered the house, I'd catch them exchanging these weird looks. You know the type, those sideways glances that make you feel like you're the punchline to a joke you're not in on. There were so many times I caught them staring at me and whispering something, like I was some kind of circus freak on display. And when there's eye contact with me, they just smirk at each other. It makes me uncomfortable, like I'm back in high school and the cool kids are laughing at me

behind my back. But I don't want to cause a scene, so I keep my mouth shut. After all, I'm there to take care of my granddaughter, not to worry about what two women in their 30s think of me. But it isn't just the looks. There's an overall vibe of judgment coming from them, like I don't belong in their precious little world. I'd be in the living room playing with my granddaughter, and I'd hear their whispers from the kitchen.

Sometimes they'd stop talking altogether when I walked by, only to start up again once I was out of earshot. They didn't have to say anything for me to know they were talking about me. It bothers me, I won't lie. I face down enemy fire and come out the other side, but something about those judgmental looks and whispered comments gets under my skin. But I figured, whatever, it's just a couple of immature women gossiping. I'm a grown man, a veteran.

I don't need validation from them. My job is to take care of my granddaughter, and I'm doing that just fine. But in the back of my mind, I can't shake the feeling that something's off. There's one more thing that's been gnawing at me. My daughter-in-law never quite seems to appreciate the help I'm giving, at least not like I thought she would. No, thank you. No acknowledgement of the time and effort I'm putting in.

It's like she expects it, like it's my duty or something. But I keep it at because I want to support my son and his family. That's what family does, right? We show up for each other, even when it's hard. I spoke to my friends about this, my old military buddies who've known me for years. They dismissed it, saying I was just overthinking. Why on earth would these two women be bothered about you? They said they would have plenty of other stuff to gossip about.

But they weren't there. They didn't feel the weight of those stares, the sting of those whispered comments. I really don't know what to do in this situation. Am I really overthinking? I researched about this, and according to some pages, I may be suffering from a disorder. Paranoia, they call it. But is it paranoia if they're not? they're really out to get you? I don't know. It's so lonely being an old man sometimes. I don't have

anyone who can truly understand what I'm going through. I certainly cannot confront my son about it. What would I say? Hey son, I think your wife and her friend are making fun of me behind my back. I'd sound like a crazy old man. It's reached the point where I don't want to babysit my granddaughter anymore. And whenever I see Lydia, I want to run out of there faster than I ever ran in basic training. Am I going nuts? Is my feeling even genuine? I face down enemies in war, but this, this feels like a different kind of battle. One I'm not sure how to fight. Update one, thank you, my friends, for approving my post. I was kind of scared that people might call me crazy, but I'm thankful that a lot of my pals validated my feelings to be real.

Let me tell you something, vibe is real. I've always trusted my gut, and it's never led me astray. Not in the jungles of Vietnam, not in the deserts of Iraq, and certainly not in the suburban jungle of family drama. And boy, did my instincts prove right this time. It was a regular evening, or so I thought. The kind of evening where you expect a kickback, maybe watch some TV, and definitely not have your world turned upside down.

But life's funny that way, isn't it? So there I was, playing with my granddaughter in the living room. It was raining outside, the kind of steady drumming on the roof that makes you glad to be indoors. My daughter-in-law came home from work with Lydia, as usual. They walked past me, and I swear I could feel the negative energy radiating off them like heat from a furnace. You know that feeling when you walk into a room and you just know people have been talking about you? It was like that, but cranked up to 11. Since I was in the living room, they retreated to another room to talk. I didn't think much of it at first. I was too busy making silly

faces at my granddaughter, trying to get her to laugh. That little girl's giggle could melt the coldest heart, I tell you. After a while, nature called, and I had to use the bathroom. Just as I was getting up, my granddaughter started crying. You know how babies are, they've got a sixth sense for the worst possible timing. I headed to the bathroom, which was attached to the living room. That's when I overheard something I wasn't supposed to hear. Daughter-in-law and her friend rushed from the room to attend to the baby. Lydia said, when did he leave?

My daughter-in-law replied, don't know. Could he just leave the baby alone without informing us? I froze, my hand on the bathroom doorknob. I knew I should have just gone about my business, but something made me stay put. Maybe it was that military training kicking in, always gather intel when you can. Then Lydia said something that hit me like a ton of bricks. That ugly bum has gotten an attitude, huh? I stopped dead in my tracks.

Ugly bum, that was me she was talking about. There's no mistaking it. What really got to me wasn't just Lydia's nasty comment, it was my daughter-in-law's reaction. She laughed. Laughed like it was the funniest thing in the world. Like insulting the man who's been taking care of her child for free was the height of comedy. I stood there for a moment, trying to process what I'd just heard. I wasn't sure whether to confront them right then and there or to walk away and let it slide like I'd been doing for months.

But something inside me snapped. I've taken bullets for my country, faced down enemies in foreign lands. I wasn't about to stand there and let these two disrespect me like that in my own family's home. I couldn't hide and take it anymore. I flushed the toilet, might as well keep up appearances, and came out. They looked flustered, like kids caught with their hands in the cookie jar. I walked out and asked, What did you just say? They both looked at me like deer caught in headlights.

Oh, we weren't talking about you, Lydia said quickly, a fake smile plastered across her face. My daughter-in-law just stared at me, numb. I said, I wasn't born yesterday. I know exactly what I heard. If you've got something to say, spell it out to my face rather than going behind my back. I'm a military man, and I know how to take bullets in the chest. Lydia rolled her eyes at my statement. My daughter-in-law was still quiet, probably hoping if she stayed still enough, she'd turn invisible.

Lydia repeated the same stuff, but this time she was irritated. How many times should we say it wasn't about you? We were talking about our colleague, I said, well then, repeat the full conversation, and then we'll see who it was that you were talking about. Lydia gestured at my daughter-in-law, and she finally found her voice. Let it go. Why are you creating so much fuss about it? It wasn't about you.

I ignored her and looked straight at Lydia. I have a rugged look because I've spent half of my life serving and protecting my country so that people like you could sleep safely in your homes. I'm also not a bum. I don't lounge on my son and my daughter-in-law's money. I earn my own living. I come here to help my family without getting anything in return. My daughter-in-law had the audacity to ask me to stop berating her friend because what I heard

wasn't about me. Screw it, I said and left their place. They had no backbone to accept their words, so pointing out further I stood up for myself and called them out. That was enough. An hour later, my son showed up at my house. He was fuming, looking like a bull ready to charge. His first sentence was, you need to apologize to Lydia.

I was like, What? I need to apologize to Lydia for what? Standing up for myself? He said I humiliated his guest. Apparently, his wife and her friend were talking about just random stuff. I was eavesdropping on the conversation and out of the blue, I picked on them. I asked him if he thinks his father is crazy and would unnecessarily pick on people. I told him what I heard. But you know what? He was least interested in hearing my side. He was more keen on getting me to apologize to Lydia to save their reputation in their social group. Because God forbid we upset the Almighty Lydia, right? Apologize my butt, I said. I don't give a rats but crap to what his wife or her friend are

up to. I wasn't the one who wronged anyone, and I won't apologize. He stormed out of my house, breathing fire like some cartoon dragon. His attitude made my blood boil. I mean, how dare he throw his nasty tantrums at me when I was the one who has been wronged by his wife's friend. That simp of a man has been manipulated so badly by his wife that he has forgotten logic. I drank my anger along with a single malt whiskey and passed out. At least the whiskey didn't judge me. The next morning, I woke up at my usual time, did my routine work, went to train my students, went to a park to relax. I saw my phone start blowing up with texts from my son asking me when I would come to babysit their daughter. Ha! I royally ignored it,

directed my calls to voicemail, and continued my day. Let them stew in their own juice for a while. I came back after my stroll, ate lunch, and was having a blissful afternoon nap when someone rampantly hit my doorbell. I was expecting this guest. Yeah, my son. I answered it, and he started ranting at me. Where were you this since this morning? I've been calling and texting you. I came here twice to look for you.

Where did you go? I was ready for this conversation. I asked him, why are you looking for me? Were you worried about me? He got confused and said, no, I mean yes, and you also didn't show up to babysit, I said, oh, that one. I spent the day relaxing at a park. He started ranting again. What? Really? You were loitering the whole day while I missed work and struggled with the baby? I called you so many times. I even came here twice to drop the baby, but you weren't here. How could you be so irresponsible?

I glared at him, and he stopped immediately. It's amazing how quickly that military glare can shut people up. First of all, you have no right to question me. How much do you pay me to babysit? None. That's right. So toned down. Second, I didn't show up because I didn't want to. He interjected, saying, you could have informed us if you wanted a break, I laughed and said, I don't work for you that I have to inform you before not showing up. I did a favor to you, and now I'm pulling it back. He went silent. and then it struck him that I might be angry because of last night's outburst. What a loser!

Took him long enough to connect the dots. I said, I'm not a bum. Can't defend that ugly comment, and I'm definitely not going back to that house where I'm disrespected. He realized he had messed up big time. He softened his tone, sat down, and said, Dad, look, I'm sorry. If this is what you want, we need you.

Lydia may have said something outrageous, but she's our guest. You know, if something bothers you, you could have told us later instead of confronting her right there. I was like, let me get this straight. She insulted me, and your wife was enjoying it. She should have stopped her, but she didn't. I'm not spineless. I have to take a stand for myself. On top of that, you came here and threw tantrums at me instead of apologizing.

That was the last nail in the coffin. We're done here. We were still talking about this when his wife called him, yelling about his absence. He screamed back at her that he was cleaning up the mess created by Lydia and her. Apparently, daughter-in-law left for work, asking my son to take care of their daughter. He was working from home, waiting for me to arrive. He thought I was just late. Since I didn't show up and my son was struggling to manage the baby in the work,

work, daughter-in-law came back half day. They both were anxious that they missed work. Son left saying, I'll get that woman to repent and apologize to you. I said no apology would help. I've been through war, son. A half-hearted apology isn't going to cut it. A few hours later, he showed up with his daughter. I so knew this. He is not a man who can get his wife to apologize for her mistakes. I smirked and asked, what happened to your wife? He said, she's working. She needs to finish her work task.

But I passed on the message that you're upset with her behavior and also Lydia's attitude. There's something more that I need to tell you. Actually, Lydia's grandparents and parents face some issues with the U.S. Army, so she's not particularly fond of Army men, you know. Also, she sees you at her house all the time. That's why some thoughts may have crossed her mind. And she got a little sarcastic. But I'm sure my wife has nothing to do with Lydia's comments.

Side note, Lydia is an immigrant, and her family has some history with the US military. I don't want to disclose that part because I think it's ridiculous and a cover-up for her narcissism. I said, what she called me had nothing to do with my profession. It came out as pure evil and mockery. She commented on my looks and the fact that I spent my days at your place and lived at your mercy. Also, I don't have any grudge against Lydia. She's no one to me.

But your wife, how could she laugh at such derogatory comments? He asked me to forget everything and babysit their daughter as they cannot afford a nanny. I felt a surge of anger rise up in me. I've been busting my tail for them for eight months, and this was the thanks I got. Not only did daughter-in-law let her friend disrespect me, but now my own son was brushing it off like it was nothing. He didn't seem to care about my feelings at all, just that I was a convenient solution to his childcare problems.

Things got escalated when I put my foot down and said I would not babysit their daughter. No matter how much I love my granddaughter, I'm not going to sacrifice my self-esteem for love. I told him, I'm not a bum. I've got my own life, and I'm done with your free labor. If your wife thinks I'm just hanging around with nothing to do, then maybe you should start asking her to babysit. My son tried to reason with me, but I wasn't having it. I'd had enough.

I wasn't going to let them walk all over me anymore. I told them he'd need to figure out his own childcare situation from now on. I know I've put up a wall between me and my son. but I don't care. I need to stand up for myself. They crossed a line, and they have to face the consequences. That night, as I sat in my quiet house, I thought about how things had changed. Just yesterday, I was a doting grandfather, giving up my time to help my family. Now, I was the ugly bum who'd been cast aside. But you know what? I'd rather be an ugly bum with self-respect than a doormat with a fancy title.

I poured myself another whiskey and toasted to my newfound freedom. Let them figure out their own childcare. I've got a life to live, and it doesn't revolve around being their unpaid babysitter. As I drifted off to sleep that night, I couldn't help but wonder what the future held. But one thing was for sure, I wasn't going to be anyone's punching bag anymore. Update 2. So, a couple of months went by, and I didn't hear a anything from my son. I'd effectively quit babysitting, and as far as I know, they were struggling

to find someone else who could do it. I figured they'd have to either shell out the money for daycare or convince any of their acquaintances to step up. Not my problem anymore. During those months, I threw myself into my work at the baseball club. The kids there gave me a sense of purpose, and their enthusiasm for the game was infectious. It reminded me of simpler times, when my own was that age, eager to learn and full of energy. But I pushed those thoughts aside. No use dwelling on the past when the present was keeping me plenty busy. I'd be lying if I said I didn't think about my granddaughter every day. I missed her little giggles, the way her eyes lit up when she saw me. But every time those thoughts crept in, I reminded myself of the disrespect I'd

endured. Self-respect has to come first, even if it means making tough choices. Then yesterday evening, I got an unexpected visit from my son. He showed up at my house looking like a mess, eyes bloodshot, clothes wrinkled, and just an overall look of defeat on his face. For a split second, I felt concerned. Despite everything, he was still my son. But I steeled myself. I'd been down this road before, and I wasn't about to let my guard down so easily.

I called him in. I had a bad feeling about what was. coming next. He just sat and stared at the floor, clearly working up the courage to tell me something. The silence stretched on, thick and uncomfortable. It reminded me of the quiet before a storm, you know something's coming, but you're not quite sure how bad it's going to be. I casually asked him what's up. That's when the dam broke. He started crying with his face buried in his palms. Not just a few tears, mind you. Full on. body-shaking sobs. I hadn't seen him cry like that since he was a little boy who'd scraped his

knee playing baseball. So, Lydia was a scammer, he finally managed to choke out between sobs. She convinced daughter-in-law to invest in some scheme that would triple the money in a year. Apparently invest in some shell company. I didn't understand the complete details. Neither did I dig too much for it. I didn't need to. I've seen an scams in my day to know how this story ends. As he spoke, part of me wanted to say I told you so. After all, I'd had my suspicions about Lydia from the start. But seeing my son sitting there, broken and defeated, I couldn't bring myself to twist the knife. Instead, I just listened as he poured out the whole sordid tale. Apparently, daughter-in-law got so

impressed by the scheme that not only did she invest her savings, but also part of my son's savings. It wasn't just about the money, though that was bad enough. It was about the trust. The blind faith they'd put in this woman who'd shown nothing but disrespect to their family. And guess what happened to Lydia after that? She vanished into thin air. Oof. Gone like a fart in the wind.

They have lodged a police complaint and went to the cyber cell to track the payment, but no luck. It was like chasing a ghost. I was shocked to know that. this. I mean, she was not a random acquaintance that daughter-in-law befriended in a mall or salon. She was her colleague, right? But yeah, she didn't show up for work. Her house is vacant. The cops took the details from the office and contacted her parents, but it turned out to be a wrong number. The whole thing was starting to sound like something out of a bad movie. I didn't know what to say. I felt terrible for them. Nobody deserves it. Nobody deserves it.

deserves to be scammed, and the thought of my granddaughter's future being jeopardized because of this made my heart ache. But I couldn't help but think back to all the times he brushed off my concerns, defending Lydia's behavior and dismissing my feelings. He had chosen her over me and asked me to apologize to be in her good books. Ha! Funny how things turn out, isn't it? My son broke down again, his shoulders shaking with each sob. Dad, he choked out, I don't know what to do. We're in deep trouble. We might lose the house. The baby. He trailed off, unable to finish the sentence. Then he looked up at me, his eyes red and puffy. I need your help, he said, we need you to babysit again. And, and we need some money. Just to

tied us over until we can figure this out. I sat there for a moment, letting his words sink in. part of me wanted to help. He was my son, after all, and that little girl was my granddaughter. But another part of me, the part that remembered the sting of their disrespect, hesitated. I took a deep breath and looked my son straight in the eye. I do feel bad for you, I said. But you have called for it. Your wife chose to laugh and enjoy the derogatory comments her friend passed from me. She enjoyed it when her friend insulted me. You chose to side with your wife and her scammer friend and dismissed my feelings. So you live with that choice. I'm out of here. His face fell, a mix of shock and disappointment washing over him. But Dad, he protested, we can't afford to make ends meet,

forget about hiring a nanny. I couldn't help but let out a dry chuckle. Yet your wife's ego is so huge that she didn't join you here despite being in hot soup, as you claim? He flinched at that, but pressed on. What if she apologizes? Would that convince you to help us? I shook my head. No. Her apology means nothing to me, just like your tears mean nothing.

I'm not going to be swayed away by crocodile tears or half-hearted apology and give out my savings and my free service. He tried a different tack then, his voice. voice taking on a slightly desperate edge. Dad, you might need our help eventually as you're getting old. Shouldn't we stick together as a family? I've considered this point before, in the quiet hours of the night when sleep wouldn't come. But I know if I was in a situation when I needed their help, they would have never stepped up.

So why should I? Son, I said, if I ever need help, I'll figure it out on my own. Just like you're going to have to do now. He made one last attempt, what about your granddaughter? She has no fault in this. How can you turn your back on her? That one stung, I'll admit. But I stood my ground.

If my granddaughter grows up to be a sensible human, she'll respect me for standing up for myself. Sometimes the best lessons we teach our children are the ones that are hardest for us to give. He left with a bitter face, slamming the door behind him. I know I cannot count on. them ever, but this is not because I turned them down. They wouldn't have supported me anyway,

so better I save myself from being exploited. I would accept whatever God plans for me in my old age. I'm not losing my sleep over it. As the days passed, I joined a school full-time to coach the students, and I couldn't be happier about it. The kids there don't judge me for my looks or my past. They just see a coach who cares, who wants to help them be their best selves. Sometimes, when I'm out in the park or at the grocery store, I think I catch a glimpse of my son or daughter-in-law. They always look away quickly, pretending not to see me. It hurts, I won't lie. You see, life has a funny way of teaching us lessons.

My daughter-in-law laughed when her friend called me an ugly bum. But now? Now I'm the one who's free. They say living well is the best revenge. Well, I'm living proof of that. I may be an ugly bum in their eyes, but I'm an ugly bum with self-respect, with purpose, and with peace of mind.

And that, my friends, is worth more than all the free child care in the world. So here's to standing up for yourself, no matter the cost. Here's to knowing your worth and not letting anyone make you feel less than. And here's to the sweet, sweet taste of karma when it finally comes knocking. Guess who had the last laugh after all? This ugly old bum, that's who? And let me tell you, it feels pretty damn good.