**Diary Entry**
When I married James, I knew he had a daughter from a previous marriage. Emily, his ex-wife, had walked out on the child six years earlierpacked her bags and moved to Belgium with a new lover, starting fresh. Since then, shed had two more children, calls her eldest twice a month on video, and only sends gifts at Christmas. I watched that little girl pine for her mother, staring at her phone screen, hoping to hear, Come live with me. But the invitation never came. Emily never visited. She simply erased her from her life.
At first, the girl lived with my mother-in-law, Jamess mum. But she quickly grew exhaustedoverwhelmed by homework, tantrums, and teenage moods. So she handed her granddaughter back to her father. James brought her home, looked me straight in the eye, and said quietly, Sophies staying with us. For good.
I genuinely tried to be a good stepmum. Bought her clothes, cooked her favourite meals, took her to school, talked openly. I wanted to be her friend. But she shut me out. A wall went up between us, with no effort on her part to bridge it. She didnt ignore meshe made it clear that, in her world, I didnt matter.
Three years passed. Now, that girl is twelve. And she still lives with us, bossing everyone around as if this were her flat, not ours. Every night, she whinges to her dad: Auntie Lily made me tidy up, Auntie Lily didnt buy what I wanted. Then my mother-in-law rings to scold me for not looking after the child properly and that with my own baby on the way, its time I learned to be a mother. Yet she wont take Sophie for even an hour when Ive got a doctors appointment or work.
Im shattered. I work, keep the house running, cook, and now Im pregnant. James, though he doesnt take her side, still asks me to be softer, more patient. But Ive had enough. That girl grates on me. Shes messy, rude, never says thank you, doesnt listen, and is never satisfied. She isnt mine, and Ive stopped pretending otherwise.
Sometimes, late at night in the kitchen, I think, If only Id refused to let her move in if Id put my foot down But its too late. I cant leave Jameswere having a child together. And, selfish as it sounds, I catch myself wishing more and more that his daughter would choose to go back to her gran. That shed say, Im happier with Nan. I wouldnt beg her to stay. I wouldnt even cry.
I just want peace. No constant nagging, no fighting for my place in this home. I want my baby to grow up with love and calm, not tension and rows. Maybe this is the only way to save this familyand myself.
**Lesson:** Love cant be forced, and sometimes, holding on too tight only breaks whats left.
