When I married Simon, I knew he had a daughter from his first marriage. Emily, his ex-wife, had left the child six years earlierpacked her bags and vanished to Belgium with a new lover, starting over from scratch. Since then, shed had two more children, called her eldest twice a month on video, and sent gifts only for Christmas. I watched that little girl pine for her mother, staring at her phone screen, willing her to say, *Come live with me.* But the invitation never came. She never visited. She just erased her like a mistake.
At first, the girl stayed with Simons mother, my mother-in-law. But she grew tired of itworn down by homework, tantrums, meltdowns. One day, she handed her granddaughter back to Simon. He brought her home, looked me dead in the eye, and murmured, *Lilys living with us now. For good.*
I tried, truly, to be a good stepmother. I bought her clothes, cooked her favourite meals, walked her to school, talked to her like a friend. But she shut me out. A wall went up between us, brick by brick, with no door in sight. She didnt ignore meshe made sure I knew I meant nothing in her world.
Three years passed. Now, the girl is twelve. She still lives with us, barking orders as if this were her flat and not ours. Every evening, she whinges to her father: *Auntie Grace made me tidy up,* or *Auntie Grace didnt buy me what I wanted.* Then my mother-in-law rings to scold me for *not looking after the child properly* and says, *Youre about to have a baby of your ownbest learn how to be a mother.* Yet she wont take her granddaughter for even an hour when I have a doctors appointment or work running late.
Im exhausted. I work, keep the house, cook, and now Im pregnant. Simon, though he doesnt side with her, still asks me to be gentler, more patient. But Ive had enough. The girl grates on me. Shes messy, rude, never says thank you, never listens, never smiles. She isnt mine, and Ive stopped pretending otherwise.
Sometimes, late at night in the kitchen, I think: *What if Id refused to let her move in? What if Id stood my ground?* But its too late. I cant leave Simonwere having a child together. And, selfish as it sounds, I catch myself wishing shed ask to go back to her grandmother. That shed say, *Im happier with Nana.* I wouldnt beg her to stay. I wouldnt even cry.
I just want peace. No more nagging, no fighting for my place in this house. I want my baby to grow up surrounded by love, not tension. Maybe this is the only way to save this familywithout losing myself in the process.
