**Diary Entry**
When I married James, I knew he had a daughter from his first marriage. Emily, his ex-wife, had walked out on the child six years earlierpacked her bags and left for Belgium with a new lover, starting her life from scratch. Since then, shes had two more children, calls her eldest twice a month on video, and only remembers gifts at Christmas. Id watch that little girl pine for her mother, staring at her phone screen, hoping shed say, Come live with me. But she never invited her, never visited. She just erased her from her life.
At first, the girl lived with my mother-in-law, Jamess mum. But she quickly burned out, overwhelmed by homework, tantrums, and meltdowns. So she handed her granddaughter back to her father. James brought her home, looked me in the eye, and murmured, Lilys staying with us. For good.
I truly tried to be a good stepmother. I bought her clothes, cooked her favourite meals, took her to school, tried to talk heart-to-heart. I wanted to be her friend. But she shut me out. Like a wall had gone up between us, with no effort to bridge the gap. She didnt ignore meshe made it clear that, in her world, I meant nothing.
Three years passed. Now that girl is twelve. And she still lives with us, bossing everyone around as if this were her flat and 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 rings to scold me for not looking after the child properly and says, Youre about to have your own babyits time you learned how to be a mother. Yet she wont take her granddaughter for even an hour when I have a doctors appointment or work emergency.
Im exhausted. I work, run 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 nuisance. Shes messy, rude, never says thank you, never listens, and is never happy. She isnt mine, and I dont even pretend anymore.
Sometimes, late at night, sitting 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 Jameswere about to have a child together. And, selfish as it sounds, I find myself wishing more and more that his daughter would choose to go back to her gran. That shed say, Im better off with Nan. I wouldnt beg her to stay. I wouldnt even cry.
I just want peace. No constant criticism, no fighting for my place in this house. I want my baby to grow up in love and harmony, not tension and arguments. Maybe this is the only way to save my family without losing myself.
