When I married James, I knew he had a daughter from a previous marriage. Emily, his ex-wife, had left the child six years earlierpacked her things and moved to Belgium with a new lover, starting over completely. Since then, shed had two more children, called her eldest twice a month on video, and sent gifts only on holidays. 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. Emily never visited. She simply erased her from her life.
At first, the girl lived with Jamess mother. But she quickly grew exhausted, overwhelmed by homework, tantrums, and outbursts. Eventually, she handed her granddaughter back to her father. James brought her home, looked me straight in the eye, and murmured, “Sophies going to live with us. For good.”
I honestly tried to be a good stepmother. I bought her clothes, cooked her favourite meals, took her to school, had heart-to-heart talks. I wanted to be a friend. But she shut me out. A wall went up between us, with no effort 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, giving orders as if this were her flat, 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 calls to scold me for “not looking after the child properly” and says, “Youll have your own baby soontime to learn how to be a mother.” Yet she refuses to take her granddaughter even for an hour when I have a doctors appointment or work emergency.
Im worn out. I work, manage the house, cook, and now Im pregnant. James, though he doesnt side with his daughter, still asks me to be softer, more patient. But Ive had enough. That girl has become nothing but a nuisancemessy, rude, ungrateful, never listening, 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 Jameswere about to have a child together. And, selfish as it sounds, I catch myself wishing his daughter would choose to go back to her grandmother. That shed say, “Im happier with Gran.” I wouldnt beg her to stay. I wouldnt even cry.
All I want is peace. No constant criticism, no fighting for my place in this home. I want my child to grow up with love and harmony, not tension and arguments. Maybe this is the only way to save my familywithout losing myself in the process.
