When I married William, I knew he had a daughter from his first marriage. Eleanor, his ex-wife, had left the child six years earliershe packed her things and moved to Belgium with a new lover, starting her life afresh. Since then, shed had two more children, called her eldest twice a month on video, and sent gifts only at Christmas. I watched that little girl pine for her mother, staring at her phone screen, hoping shed say, Come live with me. But the invitation never came, nor did Eleanor visit. She simply erased her from her life.
At first, the girl lived with my mother-in-law, Williams mother. But she soon grew weary, overwhelmed by homework, tantrums, and outbursts. She handed her granddaughter back to her father. William brought her home, looked me in the eye, and murmured, Emily will live with us now. For good.
I truly tried to be a good stepmother. I bought her clothes, cooked her favourite meals, took her to school, spoke heart-to-heart. I wanted to be her friend. But she shut me out. As if a wall had risen between us, with no effort to bridge the gap. She didnt ignore meshe made it clear that, in her world, I was no one.
Three years passed. Now, the girl is twelve. And she still lives with us, giving orders as if this were her flat and not ours. Every evening, she complains to her father: Auntie Grace made me tidy up, Auntie Grace didnt buy what I wanted. Then my mother-in-law rings to scold me for not caring enough for the child and that since Ill soon have a baby of my own, its high time I learned to be a mother. Yet she wont look after her granddaughter herself, not even for an hour, when I have a doctors appointment or work to do.
Im exhausted. I work, keep the house, cook, and now Im expecting. William, though he doesnt side with his daughter, still asks me to be gentler, more patient. But Ive had enough. That girl has become a thorn in my side. Shes messy, rude, never says thank you, never listens, and is never satisfied. She isnt mine, and I dont pretend otherwise anymore.
Sometimes, late at night in the kitchen, I think, If only Id refused to let her move in If Id stood my ground But its too late. I cant leave Williamwere about to have a child together. And, selfish as it may sound, I find myself wishing more and more that his daughter would choose to go back to her grandmother. That shed say, Im better off with Nan. I wouldnt beg her to stay. I wouldnt even cry.
I just want peace. No constant blame, no fighting for my place in this house. I want my child to grow up surrounded by love and harmony, not tension and squabbles. Perhaps this is my only chance to save this family without losing myself.
