When I married Julien, I already knew he had a daughter from a previous marriage. His exwife, Élodie, had walked out on the child six years earliertaking her belongings and moving to Belgium with a new boyfriend, essentially starting over. Since then shes had two more children, calls her eldest only twice a month via video, and sends gifts only on holidays. I often saw the little girl yearning for her mother, staring at her phone screen hoping for a message like, Come live with me. But that never happened; she never invited her, never showed up, and simply erased her from her life.
At first the child stayed with Juliens mother, my motherinlaw. She soon became exhausted, overwhelmed by the chores, the tantrums, the crises. She handed her granddaughter back to her father. Julien brought the girl home, looked straight at me and whispered, Amélie will live with us. For a long time.
I truly tried to be a good stepmother. I bought her clothes, cooked her favorite meals, took her to school, and spoke to her hearttoheart. I wanted to be her friend. Yet she shut herself off, as if an invisible wall had risen between us, with no effort on her part to bridge it. She didnt ignore me; she made it clear that, in her world, I was nobody.
Three years have passed. The girl is now twelve and still lives with us, ordering things as if this were her own apartment, not ours. Every evening she complains to her father: Aunt Claire forced me to tidy up, Aunt Claire didnt buy what I wanted. Then my motherinlaw calls me, accusing me of not taking enough care of the child and reminding me that Im about to have a baby too, so I should learn to be a mother. Yet she herself refuses to look after her granddaughter for even an hour when I have an urgent doctors appointment or work duty.
I am drained. I work, run the house, cook, and now Im pregnant. Julien, while not taking his daughters side, still asks me to be gentler, more patient. I cant take it any longer. The girl has become a source of irritationmessy, insolent, never saying thank you, never listening, never satisfied. She isnt mine, and I no longer pretend otherwise.
Sometimes, late at night in the kitchen, I think, If only I had refused her moving in if I had insisted But its too late. I cant leave Julienwere expecting a child together. And, selfish as it may sound, I increasingly hope his daughter will want to go back to her grandmother, to say, Im better off with Grandma. I wont beg her to stay, nor will I cry.
All I want is peace. No constant accusations, no fighting for my place in this house. I want my child to grow up surrounded by love and harmony, not tension and arguments. Perhaps thats my only chance to save this family without losing myself.
Jealousy: My Husband’s Daughter Wants to Move in with Her Step-Mum
