Youre the one who turned him against me, accused my new husbands ex-wife.
Mum, why does Ethan have a different last name? asked Oliver, flipping through his stepbrothers school diary.
Emma froze over the pot of stew, the ladle hovering in her hand. 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 replied softly, stirring the soup.
Wheres his dad?
He lives separately.
Oliver finally lifted his head from his notebook and studied his mother with knowing eyes. At eleven, he understood far more than Emma wished he did.
Why does Ethan cry at night sometimes?
Emmas heart clenched. She knew, of course. Seven-year-old Ethan often sobbed into his pillow, his tiny frame shaking. The child psychologist had called it adjustment stressdivorce, a new home, a new father figure.
Hes still getting used to our family, Emma said, turning off the stove.
I liked James right away, Oliver remarked. Hes brilliant, isnt he?
Emma smiled. James *was* brillianta kind husband and devoted stepfather. After her divorce, shed raised Oliver alone for three years, working two jobs, falling asleep over his schoolbooks. Then shed met James at a parents eveninganother single father, raising his son, Ethan.
Theyd taken things slowly, cautiously. Both were afraid of another mistake, of hurting their children. But love had outweighed fear.
Emma, Im home! James called from the hallway.
Dads back! Oliver cheered, dashing off to greet him.
Emma watched him go. Oliver had accepted James so easily. Ethan, though, was another story.
James entered the kitchen, kissing her temple.
Hows everything? Wheres Ethan?
In his room. James, we need to talk. She lowered her voice. Sophie called.
His face darkened. Sophiehis ex-wife, Ethans mother. Every call from her was a storm.
What did she want this time?
She wants Ethan for the weekend. Says hes withdrawn, struggling in school.
And you said?
What could I say? Of course, he can go. But she implied Emma hesitated.
What?
That its my fault. That Im not good to him.
James exhaled heavily and sat at the table.
You know thats not true. Youve tried your hardest with him.
Tried, yes. But has it worked? Her voice wavered. Oliver welcomed you straight away. Ethan still flinches when I reach for him.
Give him time. His situations different. Oliver remembers how hard things were for you alonehe was glad to have someone step up. Ethan had both parents, then suddenly his world split. And Sophies always poisoning him against you.
Emma knew. After their wedding, Sophie had declared war. She couldnt bear that James had moved on.
Remember when she showed up at our wedding?
James grimaced. Of course he remembered. Sophie had stormed in mid-ceremony, demanding Ethan back, screaming that Emma had stolen her familynever mind that James had been divorced for months when they met.
Shell never stop, James sighed. But well manage. The main thing is keeping the kids out of it.
Ethan appeared in the doorwaysmall, fair-haired, with solemn eyes. He hovered, uncertain.
Ethan, come eat, Emma coaxed gently.
He shuffled in, sitting as far from her as possible. The familiar ache pinched her heart. *What am I doing wrong?*
How was school? James asked.
Fine, Ethan muttered.
Your teacher said youve been distracted.
A shrug.
Is something bothering you? Emma ventured.
He flicked a glance at her, then away.
No.
Ethan, Emmas trying to help, James said patiently.
Shes not my mum! Ethan burst out. I *have* a mum! A *real* one!
Emma paled. James clenched his fists.
Ethan, apologise. Now.
No! Shes a stranger! I dont want to live here! I want *Mum*!
He bolted from the table, his door slamming shut.
Emma covered her face. James squeezed her shoulder.
He doesnt mean it.
He does. And hes right. I *am* a stranger. No matter what I doI broke his family.
Emma, dont. Sophie and I divorced long before we met. You know why.
She did. Sophie had cheated, flaunted her affairs, claimed marriage suffocated her. Only when James filed for divorce did she panic, beg for another chance. Too late.
But Ethan doesnt know that. To him, it all started when I came along.
Hell understand when hes older.
Until then, Im the villain who stole his dad.
Oliver peeked in.
Mum Ethans crying.
Emma met Jamess gazehis eyes mirrored her helplessness.
Ill talk to him, he said.
No. Let me.
She knocked on Ethans door.
Ethan, can I come in?
Go away!
Please. Theres something I need to tell you.
Silence. Then, faintly: Fine.
He 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 sensed him listening.
My parents split when I was eighta bit older than you. Dad left for someone else. Later, Mum married Uncle Mark. She paused. Know what I did?
Ethan shifted slightly.
I *hated* Uncle Mark. Thought if I was awful enough, hed leave and Dad would come back. I broke his things, threw tantrums. Poor Uncle Mark put up with so much. And Mum cried every night.
Ethan turned to face her.
What happened?
I grew up and realised Dad didnt leave because of Uncle Mark. He left because he fell out of love. Uncle Mark just loved us. Wanted us happy. But I understood too late.
Too late?
Uncle Mark 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 tightened.
Aunt Emma? Ethan whispered. Do you want me to forget my mum?
No, Ethan. 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.
He was quiet, digesting this.
You wont make me call you Mum?
Never. Call me whatever feels right.
If I miss her you wont be mad?
Of course not. Its okay to miss her.
Ethan sat up.
Can I tell you about her sometimes? How pretty she is? How nice?
Whenever you like.
Will you tell me more about Uncle Mark?
Emma wiped her eyes, smiling.
Id love to.
That weekend, Sophie picked Ethan up. Emma watched from the window as hertall, polished, in a designer coatbuckled Ethan into her sleek car. A world apart from Emma in her cosy jumper and jeans.
Ethan waved eagerly from the window. Emma waved back, forcing a smile.
James hugged her from behind.
Hell be back.
I know. Its just shes so glamorous. And Im
And youre *you*. Ethan will see that.
On Sunday evening, Sophie returnedbut instead of dropping Ethan off, she marched upstairs with him.
Emma opened the door and knew instantly: trouble. Sophies face was twisted with rage.
We need to talk, she hissed.
Ethan, go to your room, Emma said gently.
No! Sophie snapped. He stays. He needs to hear this.
James appeared, frowning.
Sophie, whats going on?
*This* is whats going on. She yanked out a notebook. Your son wrote a school essay. *My Family*. Care to hear?
She read, voice shaking:
*My family has five people: Dad James, Mum Emma, brother Oliver, me, and my real mum Sophie. Mum Emma is really kind. She cooks my favourite meals and helps with homework. She doesnt make me call her Mum, but I know she loves me. I love her too. Mum Sophie is pretty and has fancy dresses, but shes hardly ever home. Mum Emmas always there when I get back from school*
