Prince Harry and Meghan Markle are proud parents of two beautiful children who were recently given the right to carry royal titles, that of a prince and a princess.
They welcomed their first child, Archie, while they were still working royals. The little one was born at The Portland Hospital in London on May 6, 2019. However, even before he was welcomed into the world, Archie found himself in a middle of a controversy when his parents gave Oprah an interview during which they revealed that a senior royal questioned his color.
When Archie was born, Harry wasn’t much interested in revealing details surrounding the birth of the baby. However, he was forced into sharing with the people that Archie arrived into the world due to the breach of the “unwritten contract between the royals and the public.”
Harry and Meghan posed with him in front of the Portland Hospital in London, where he was born, as is the tradition.
“Today The Duke and Duchess of Sussex are delighted to shаrе their first public moment as a family,” the Sussexes wrote.
Although both Prince Harry and Prince William, as well as many other members of the royal family, including William’s children, were born at St Mary’s Hospital, the Sussexes chose not to give birth to Archie there.
“He and Meghan were thrilled to be safely delivered of their son in London’s private Portland hospital even before the palace press office had confirmed the duchess was in labor.”
In her book The New Royals: Queen Elizabeth’s Legacy and the Future of the Crown, author Katie Nicholl described Harry as “almost morbidly obsessed” with keeping Archie’s birth as secretive as possible.
“Behind the scenes, matters were so fraught that more than one official — as I know from personal experience — was reduced to tears of frustration and despair,” Rebecca English, royal editor of the Daily Mail, added.
Now, with the family residing in the States, they don’t need to worry about cameras or paparazzi photographers that much, nor they are forced to post photos of their children on their birthdays, as it is with the royal family’s tradition.
They also shаrеd photos of the little one meeting his great-grandma, Queen Elizabeth, for the first time.
Later, as Archie grew a bit, Harry and Meghan took a trip to South Africa where they met Archbishop Desmond Tutu. “Thank you Archbishop Tutu for your incredibly warm hospitality, Archie loved meeting you!” they wrote on Instagram along with a series of photos of their son.
Except for that, they have tried keeping both their children out of the spotlight as much as possible.
However, that changed when the Netflix documentary about Harry and Meghan, consisting of six episodes, aired.
In the documentary series, Meghan explained how she was anxious about what might happen the day her baby boy was born.
“There was already the pressure of the picture on the steps. … But I had been really worried going into that labor because I’m older, I didn’t know if I’d have to have a c-section, and I had a very longstanding relationship with my doctor, and that’s who I trusted with my pregnancy,” she said.
On Sunday, June 6, 2021, the Sussexes welcomed their baby daughter, Lilibet Diana. The couple were eager to pay tribute to Lili’s great-grandmother, Queen Elizabeth II whose nickname as a child was Lilibet, and her grandmother, Princess Diana.
However, experts claimed at the time that the Queen wasn’t happy with the choice of the name. Further, they claimed choosing that name was “disrespectful.”
“Even naming this child sparked a diplomatic scuffle. Hating even to think about the admittedly labyrinthine rules of protocol that surrounded the British royal family, Meghan, and Harry called her Lilibet, apparently in the belief that it would be a wonderful surprise for her great-grandmother, Queen Elizabeth,” royal expert Tom Quinn wrote in his book Gilded Youth An Intimate History of Growing Up in the Royal Family.
“That Harry did not have the sense to predict that this would cause trouble is beyond belief. He surely would have known that appropriating the monarch’s beloved childhood nickname would be perceived by many as disrespectful and intrusive in a way that naming their daughter Elizabeth would have not been.”
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“The Queen may well have been upset that her grandson and his family laid claim to the intimate nickname that had always been very much part of the Queen’s private life, but it is perhaps more likеly that the flunkeys who surround the monarch and some of the starchier older royals were irritated by what they saw as a presumption.”
Before Lili was born, Meghan fell pregnant in 2020, but she suffered miscarriage.
At one point, Meghan opened up about the heartbreak she and Prince Harry experienced after losing the baby.
She shаrеd a powerful essay on grief after miscarriage written for The New York Times, The Losses We Share, which touched many.
“Losing a child means carrying an almost unbearable grief, experienced by many but talked about by few,” the 39-year-old Duchess explained.
“I felt a sharp cramp. I dropped to the floor with him in my arms, humming a lullaby to keep us both calm, the cheerful tune a stark contrast to my sense that something was not right.
“I knew, as I clutched my firstborn child, that I was losing my second.
“Hours later, I lay in a hospital bed, holding my husband’s hand. I felt the clamminess of his palm and kissed his knuckles, wet from both our tears. Staring at the cold white walls, my eyes glazed over. I tried to imagine how we’d heal.”
Even today, when the anniversary of her miscarriage approaches, Meghan feels the same pain.
“She feels so blessed to have Archie and Lili and the family she and Harry have created. But naturally, as the anniversary of her miscarriage approaches, she does have sadness. The date is very poignant for her,” a person close to her told OK!.
“But Meghan is always looking towards the future and is just so grateful for the happiness she has in her life with Harry and the kids.”
She wants her children to understand that “mummies work as well.” At the same time, “Her family life will always come first, she will fit work in around the children’s schedules so she is there for them when they need her and she just wants to make the most of and cherish every moment with them as they grow up,” the source explained.
Meghan doesn’t want to be away from her children for a longer period of time and that is one of the reasons why she and Harry made a decision to take their children with them when traveling abroad in the future.
“Meghan doesn’t likе being away from her children as she doesn’t want to miss a thing with them growing up so fast,” a source told OK!.
“With Lili turning three, it’s really got Meghan and Harry thinking about their future and how quickly the children are growing up. Meghan especially feels that her babies are no longer babies, and likе most mums, it makes her slightly sad and wistful that the baby years have come to an end.”
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My Late Wife’s Presumptuous Sister Took Her Dress Without Asking and Damaged It – Karma Swiftly Dealt With Her
Jack is furious when his sister-in-law shows up to a family event in his late wife, Della’s cherished dress. But the final blow comes when she “accidentally” ruins it right in front of him. Jack holds back his anger, but karma has its way of delivering justice in ways no one expects.
It’s been six months since I lost my wife, Della, and some days it feels like I’m drowning in memories. Today was one of those days until karma decided to show up fashionably late to the party.
But I’m getting ahead of myself. Let me rewind a bit to last week.
It was supposed to be a happy day, the 45th wedding anniversary of Della and her sister Lina’s parents. Instead, it turned into a nightmare that had me wishing I’d stayed home nursing my grief with a bottle of whiskey.
I stood in the corner of the living room, nursing a drink and trying to blend into the wallpaper.
The chatter of family and friends washed over me, a dull roar that did nothing to drown out the ache in my chest. Every laugh, every clink of glasses was a reminder that Della should’ve been here, lighting up the room with her smile.
That’s when it happened. The moment that made my blood run cold and then boil in the span of a heartbeat.
Lina appeared at the top of the stairs, and my world tilted on its axis.
She was wearing Della’s engagement dress. The one I’d given her on the night I proposed, the one she’d treasured for years. It was a soft, flowing thing in a shade of blue that matched Della’s eyes perfectly.
Seeing it on Lina felt like a violation.
I couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe. My fingers tightened around my glass as Lina descended the stairs, a smug smile playing on her lips. She knew exactly what she was doing.
“Jack!” she called out, her voice dripping with fake sweetness. “Don’t you think this dress is just perfect for the occasion?”
I opened my mouth, but no words came out. What could I say that wouldn’t cause a scene? That wouldn’t play right into her hands?
Lina sauntered over, her eyes gleaming with malicious delight. “What’s wrong, Jack? Cat got your tongue?”
I took a deep breath, trying to steady myself. “That’s Della’s dress,” I managed to growl.
She laughed, a sound like nails on a chalkboard. “Oh, come on. It’s not like she needs it anymore. And now,” she leaned in close, her breath hot on my ear, “she can’t say no to me.”
Something snapped inside me. I was about to unleash years of pent-up fury when Lina gasped dramatically.
“Oh no!” she cried out. “I’m so clumsy!”
Time seemed to slow as I watched a wave of red wine spread across the front of Della’s dress. Lina’s eyes met mine, filled with mock innocence and very real triumph.
“Oops,” she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “I guess I ruined it. Such a shame.”
I don’t remember much of what happened next. Somehow, I made it through the rest of the party without committing murder. But as I drove home that evening, my knuckles white on the steering wheel, I knew something had changed.
Back in our — my — empty house, I paced the floor like a caged animal. Memories of Della flooded my mind, sharp and painful. Her laughter, her strength, the way she always stood up to Lina’s bullshit.
“God, I miss you, Del,” I whispered to the empty room. “You always knew how to handle her.”
I could almost hear Della’s voice in my head, calm and steady. “Don’t let her get to you, Jack. She’s not worth it.”
But it wasn’t just about me anymore.
It was about honoring Della’s memory, about not letting Lina trample all over the life we’d built together.
As I collapsed onto the couch, exhausted and heartsick, a strange calm settled over me. I wouldn’t seek revenge; that’s not what Della would’ve wanted. But I wouldn’t stand in karma’s way either.
Something told me the universe had taken notice of Lina’s behavior, and it was only a matter of time before the scales balanced out.
Little did I know how right I was.
A few days later, I was mindlessly scrolling through social media, trying to distract myself from the gnawing emptiness in my chest, when a post caught my eye. It was from Lina, and it was… dramatic, to say the least.
“My dear friends,” it read, accompanied by a selfie of Lina with tears streaking her mascara, “I was robbed yesterday! They took all my cocktail outfits and branded clothes. I’m devastated!”
I blinked and read it again.
A laugh bubbled up in my throat, unexpected and a little rusty from disuse. Before I could fully process what I was reading, my phone rang. Lina’s name flashed on the screen.
I answered, curiosity getting the better of me. “Hello?”
“You colossal jerk!” Lina’s shrill voice assaulted my ear. “I know it was you! How dare you?”
I held the phone away from my ear, her tirade continuing unabated. When she paused for breath, I jumped in. “Lina, what the hell are you talking about?”
“Don’t play dumb with me, Jack! My clothes, all my designer outfits, they’re gone! And I know you’re behind it!”
I couldn’t help it. I laughed. It was a real laugh, the kind I hadn’t experienced since Della died. “Lina, I hate to burst your bubble, but I had nothing to do with your clothes going missing.”
“Liar! Who else would do this? It’s payback for the dress, isn’t it?”
I sighed, pinching the bridge of my nose.
“Lina, I’ve been home wallowing in my grief. I haven’t left the house in days. How exactly do you think I managed to orchestrate a theft of your wardrobe?”
She sputtered, clearly not expecting logic to enter the conversation. “But… but…”
“Look,” I said, a hint of amusement creeping into my voice, “I’m sorry you were robbed. That sucks. But it wasn’t me.”
“Then explain this!” she shrieked.
My phone pinged with an incoming message.
I pulled it away from my ear to look, and what I saw nearly made me drop it.
There, in living color, were photos of Lina’s missing clothes. But they weren’t in some thief’s lair or a pawn shop. No, they were being worn by homeless women on the street.
I saw a Gucci blazer draped over the shoulders of an elderly woman pushing a shopping cart. A Prada dress adorned a young mother cradling a baby.
I couldn’t contain myself. Laughter erupted from me, deep and genuine.
It felt foreign, almost painful, but God, it felt good.
“What’s so funny?” Lina demanded. “This isn’t a joke, Jack!”
“Oh, Lina,” I managed between chuckles, “trust me, karma works in mysterious ways.”
“What’s that supposed to mean? I swear, Jack, if I find out you had anything to do with this—”
“You’ll what?” I cut her off, suddenly tired of her threats. “Look, Lina, I didn’t take your clothes. Maybe the universe decided it was time for you to learn a lesson about taking things that don’t belong to you.”
She gasped, indignant. “How dare you! I’m calling the police!”
“Go ahead,” I said, surprising myself with how calm I felt. “I’m sure they’ll be very interested in your theory about your grieving brother-in-law masterminding a charitable redistribution of your wardrobe.”
I hung up before she could respond, feeling lighter than I had in months. As I set my phone down, a memory surfaced: Della, rolling her eyes after yet another confrontation with her sister.
“One of these days,” she’d said, “Lina’s going to push too far, and it’s going to bite her in the rear.”
I smiled, raising an imaginary glass to the ceiling. “You called it, babe,” I murmured. “You always did.”
I thought that was the end of it. A bit of karmic justice, a much-needed laugh, and maybe a lesson learned for Lina. But the universe, it seemed, wasn’t quite done.
The next morning, I opened my front door to grab the newspaper and nearly tripped over a plain white envelope on the welcome mat. No address, no stamp. Just my name scrawled across the front in unfamiliar handwriting.
Curious, I tore it open. Inside was a single sheet of paper with three words:
“Don’t thank me.”
I stared at the note, my mind racing. Someone in the family, someone I didn’t know, or at least didn’t suspect, had taken matters into their own hands. They’d done what I’d only dreamed of doing, exacting a revenge that was as poetic as it was just.
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