My husband and daughter always ignored me, so I quietly left. Then they started panicking…
My names Mary. Im thirty, work as a clerk at an identification company, and until recently, I thought my life with Marcus and his daughter Emily was the “new family” Id dreamed of.
Marcus is nine years older than me. He was divorced when we met, raising Emily alone after his ex-wife vanished, refusing custody. Emily was twelve back thenstylish, bright-eyed, and surprisingly polite when Marcus first introduced us.
“Nice to meet you. Im Emily. Thanks for looking after Dad so well.”
Her cheerfulness loosened my nervous grip. Id braced for rejection, but she seemed genuinely happy I was there.
I thought: *Shes alone, without a mum. Maybe I could be her person.*
A year later, Marcus proposed. My parents hesitatedwho wouldnt, when the man already has a child?but eventually, charmed by my determination, they gave their blessing. I married Marcus and moved into the flat he shared with Emily.
At first, it was lovely. Emily even called me “Mum.” Marcus was affectionate. We had dinners, watched telly together. I thought life was writing itself perfectly.
But as months passed, tiny cracks appeared.
One evening after dinner, Emily left her plate on the table and flopped onto the sofa, scrolling her phone.
“Emily, clear your plate. Youre old enough.”
She rolled her eyes. “Ugh, seriously? Mum, cant you just do it?”
I froze. “No. Youre in secondary school. Time to learn responsibility.”
“Stop nagging! Youre so annoying.”
Marcus took her side. “Dont be so hard on her, Mary. Shes still young. Just tidy it up.”
My face burned. “Im not treating her differently because shes my stepdaughter. I want her to grow up right.”
But the seed was planted. From then on, Emily resisted every request. Marcus enabled her. Chores, shopping, cleaningbit by bit, it all became my job.
When I pleaded”Were a family, we should share the load”Marcus waved me off: “Housework is womens work.” Emily sneered: “Youre such a cold mum.”
Even though I worked full-time, they treated me like a maid.
Then school troubles began. At fourteen, Emily needed to pass entrance exams for a posh private school. She was clever but lazy, spending afternoons glued to her phone.
“Emily, you need to study. Sixth form will be tougher.”
She scoffed. “Shut up. Youre not my real mum.”
Marcus chimed in: “Dont stress her. Shell manage. Shes reliable.”
We argued fiercely. The more I pushed, the colder Marcus grew. Sometimes he came home late, mumbling about “work.” I suspected he was avoiding me.
Tension filled the flat. I considered divorce but waveredwould I disappoint my parents after convincing them this was right?
Then, one morning, everything shifted.
“Morning, Emily. Breakfasts ready.”
She walked past without a word.
“Emily?”
Nothing.
That evening, I called Marcus. “Hey, can we talk about Emily?”
Silence. He didnt even turn his head.
Day after day, they ignored me. Greetings, questions, attempts to chatnothing. I was invisible. They chatted between themselves, but the moment I spoke, their eyes glazed over.
I cooked, cleaned, launderedyet even a “thank you” vanished. Weekends, they went out together, leaving me alone in the flat Id once called home.
I tried harderEmilys favourite shepherds pie, Marcuss lager in the fridge. Nothing. Silence pressed in like walls.
I cried in the shower where no one heard. *Why?*
The answer came by accident.
One evening, I came home early and heard voices from the half-open lounge door.
Emily giggled. “Mums so clueless. Ha. The silent treatment works a treat. She shuts up and does everything.”
Marcus laughed. “Yep. No more nagging, and she still pays all the bills. Handy little housemaid.”
Emily cheered: “Ill need more money for sixth form now. Mum can just work harder! Im youngwhy should I do chores? Perfect. Lets keep ignoring her.”
My heart pounded. My husband and stepdaughterlaughing at how easily theyd turned me into their servant.
Heat rose in my chest. I bit my lip so hard it bled.
Id never forgive them.
Next morning, I tried once more: “Good morning.”
They ignored me. Emily even *tutted*.
After they left, I silently packed a suitcase. Took essentials, shut the door, and walked out without a note.
I went to my parents. Braced for their disappointment. Instead, Mum took my hand, eyes damp. “Stay as long as you need. It mustve been so hard.”
Dad said sharply: “You did everything you could. Thats enough.”
Tears Id held for months burst free. For the first time in two years, I felt *seen*.
Days later, my phone rang. Marcus. Against sense, I answered.
“Where the hell are you?” he shouted. “How dare you leave? Youre her motherhave you no shame? Get home now!”
I held the phone away, then spoke coldly. “No, Marcus. Im not coming back. I want a divorce.”
“What nonsense! Stop overreactingwe barely ignored you! Were not divorcing over this!”
He was panickingbecause without me, the maid was gone.
Softly, I said: “Lets divorce. Whys your mistress calling me, then?”
Silence. Then: “What what are you talking about?”
But I knew. That mysterious call Id received? From Marcuss lovers husband. The late “work” nights? Dates with *her*. Sometimes he even took Emily, whod sighed once: “Dads girlfriends so pretty. Wish *she* was my mum.”
I hung up. “Ill file for alimony. And the flat? Its mine. Dad bought it before we marriedits in my name. Ive already moved my things and listed it. Yours and Emilys stuff? Sent to your parents. Good luck.”
Silence.
Then Marcuss cracked voice: “Mary, please. Im sorry. I only love you. Forgive me.”
But the words slid off me like water.
“You and Emily didnt want a wife or mother. You wanted a housemaid. Its over.”
I hung up.
My husband and daughter always ignored me, so I quietly left. Then they started panicking…
Part Two
The divorce moved faster than expected once my solicitor got involved. The facts were clear: Marcuss affair, his financial recklessness, his treatment of me. His lovers husband sued separately. Their little “romance” had them drowning in lawsuits.
Marcus drained savings paying child support *and* damages to the other man. It wasnt enough. He took loans.
Meanwhile, Marcus and Emily were evicted from my flat, which sold within weeks. With the money, I bought a cosy place near my office. Quiet, sunlit, filled only with things *I* chose.
Marcus and Emily landed in a dingy bedsit across town.
At first, I felt nothingjust relief. Then the calls started again.
“Mary, please. Lets fix this. Emily misses you too.”
But his voice held desperation, not love. He wanted the stability Id providedmoney, chores, silence.
“No,” I said flatly. “You once told me: *Without you, Id be nothing.* Now you seewithout me, you *are* nothing.”
I hung up.
Months passed.
Gossip reached me. Marcuss debts piled up. Emily ended up in a state school instead of the fancy private one shed bragged about. At first, she acted superior, but her attitude alienated peers. Friends drifted away. She stayed home more. Neighbours complained about their flats stench.
One day, Marcus called again, voice ragged.
“Mary, please
