“You’re the one who turned him against me,” accused my new husband’s ex-wife.
“Mum, why does Arthur have a different last name?” asked Oliver, flipping through his stepbrothers school diary.
Natalie froze over the pot of stew, the ladle trembling in her grip. The question hung in the air like a taut wire. Oliver sat at the kitchen table, doing his homework, not even looking up as he waited for an answer.
“Because he has a different father,” she murmured, stirring the soup.
“Where is his dad?”
“Living elsewhere.”
Oliver finally lifted his head, his sharp eyes studying her. At eleven, he understood far more than Natalie wished he did.
“Why does Arthur cry at night sometimes?”
Her heart clenched. She knew, of course she knew. Seven-year-old Arthur often sobbed into his pillow, muffling the sound. The child psychologist had called it adaptation stressthe strain of divorce, a new home, a new father.
“Hes still getting used to us,” Natalie said, turning off the stove.
“I liked Stephen straight away,” Oliver remarked. “Hes brilliant, isnt he?”
Natalie smiled. Stephen *was* brillianta good husband, a good father. After her first divorce, shed spent three years raising Oliver alone, juggling two jobs, collapsing over his homework from exhaustion. Then shed met Stephen at a parents eveningdivorced too, raising his son, Arthur.
Theyd taken it slow, careful not to repeat past mistakes. But love had outweighed fear.
“Natalie, Im home!” Stephens voice echoed from the hallway.
“Dads back!” Oliver grinned, darting off to meet him.
Natalie watched him go. Oliver had embraced Stephen effortlessly. But Arthur? That had been harder.
Stephen stepped into the kitchen, kissing her temple. “Hows it going? Wheres Arthur?”
“Upstairs. Stephenwe need to talk. Olivia called.”
His expression darkened. Olivia, his ex-wife, Arthurs mother. Every call from her was a storm brewing.
“What now?”
“She wants Arthur this weekend. Says hes changedwithdrawn, struggling in school.”
“And you said?”
“What could I say? Of course, she can take him. But she implied” Natalie hesitated.
“Implied what?”
“That its my fault. That I dont care for him properly.”
Stephen sighed, sinking into a chair.
“Natalie, you know thats not true. Youve tried so hard with him.”
“Tried, yes. But does it matter?” Her voice cracked. “Oliver accepted you instantly. Arthur still flinches when I touch him.”
“Give him time. Its different for him. Oliver remembers how hard you struggled alonehes glad youre happy. But Arthurs world shattered overnight. And Olivia *poisons* him against you.”
She knew. After their wedding, Olivia had declared war, furious that her ex-husband had moved on.
“Remember when she turned up at the wedding?”
Stephen grimaced. Of course he remembered. Olivia had stormed in mid-ceremony, shrieking for her son back, accusing Natalie of breaking them aparteven though Stephen had been divorced for months.
“Shell never stop,” he muttered. “But well manage. We cant let her twist the kids against each other.”
Arthur appeared in the doorwaysmall, pale, his eyes too old for his age. He hovered, unsure.
“Arthur, come eat,” Natalie coaxed, forcing lightness into her voice.
He shuffled in, sitting as far from her as possible. The familiar sting pricked her chest. *What am I doing wrong?*
“How was school?” Stephen asked.
“Fine,” Arthur mumbled into his plate.
“Your teacher said youve been distracted.”
A shrug.
“Is something bothering you?” Natalie ventured.
Arthur shot her a fleeting glance, then looked away.
“Im fine.”
“Arthur, Natalies trying to help,” Stephen said gently.
“Shes *not my mum!*” Arthur erupted. “I *have* a mum!”
Natalie went white. Stephens fists clenched.
“Arthur, *apologise.*”
“No! Shes *not family!* I dont want to live here! I want *Mum!*”
He bolted. His bedroom door slammed.
Natalie covered her face. Stephen pulled her close.
“He doesnt mean it.”
“He *does.* And hes right. To him, Im the villain who stole his dad.”
“Natalie, *stop.* Olivia and I split long before we met. You know why.”
She knew. Olivia had cheated, flaunting affairs, claiming marriage suffocated her. Only when Stephen filed for divorce did she panicbegging for another chance. Too late.
“But Arthur doesnt know that. To him, *Im* the reason his life fell apart.”
“Hell understand when hes older.”
“And until then? Im the wicked stepmother who stole his father.”
Oliver peeked in. “Mum Arthurs crying.”
Natalie met Stephens gazehis eyes mirrored her helpless grief.
“Ill talk to him,” he said.
“No. Let me.”
She knocked on Arthurs door.
“Arthur? Can I come in?”
“Go *away!*”
“Please. I need to tell you something.”
Silence. Then, a muffled, “*Fine.*”
Arthur was curled on his bed, facing the wall. She sat gingerly on the edge.
“Do you want to hear about *my* dad?”
No reply. But she felt him listening.
“My parents divorced when I was eightjust a bit older than you. Dad left for another woman. Mum married Uncle James later. Know what I did?”
Arthur shifted slightly.
“I *hated* Uncle James. Thought if I was awful enough, hed leave and Dad would come back. I broke his things, threw tantrums Poor Uncle James suffered so much. And Mum cried every night.”
Arthur turned fully now.
“What happened?”
“I grew up. Realised Dad didnt leave *because* of Uncle James. He left because he fell out of love. Uncle James just loved us. Wanted us happy. But I realised too late.”
“Too late?”
“He died when I was sixteen. I never thanked him. Never told him I loved him. Hed been a real father all those years. And I”
Her throat closed.
“Aunt Natalie,” Arthur whispered. “Do you want me to forget my mum?”
“No, Arthur. *Never.* Youll always have one mum, and you should love her. I just want us to be happy together. Im not replacing her. I just want to be your friend.”
Arthur absorbed this, silent.
“You wont make me call you *Mum?*”
“Never. Call me what you like.”
“And if I miss her you wont be mad?”
“Of course not. Its okay to miss her.”
Arthur sat up.
“Can I tell you about her sometimes? How pretty she is? How nice?”
“Yes. Whenever you want.”
“Will you tell me about Uncle James?”
Natalie smiled through tears.
“Whenever you want.”
That Saturday, Olivia arrived to collect Arthur. Natalie watched from the window as hertall, polished, designer coat immaculatehelped Arthur into her sleek car. A world apart from Natalie in her worn jumper and jeans.
Arthur waved eagerly from the window. Natalie waved back, forcing a smile.
Stephen hugged her from behind.
“Hell come back.”
“I know. Its just shes so *perfect.* And Im”
“Youre *everything.* And Arthur will see that.”
Sunday evening, Olivia returned. But instead of dropping Arthur at the door, she marched upstairs with him.
Natalie opened the doorand knew instantly. Olivias face was contorted with rage.
“We need to talk,” she hissed.
“Arthur, go to your room,” Natalie said softly.
“No!” Olivia snapped. “Hell hear what I have to say to *you.*”
Stephen appeared at the commotion.
“Olivia, whats going on?”
“*This* is going on!” She yanked out a notebook. “Your son wrote a school essay. My Family. Care to hear?”
She read, voice shaking with fury:
“My family has five: Dad Stephen, Mum Natalie, brother Oliver, me, and my real mum Olivia. Mum Natalie is kind. She cooks my favourites and helps with homework. She doesnt make me call her *Mum*, but I know she loves me. And I love her too. Mum Olivia is pretty and has fancy dresses, but shes hardly ever home. Mum Natalies always there when I get back from school”
Olivia snapped the book shut.
“You *did this!* You turned him against me! Made him call you *Mum!*”
“I *never*”
