I sit in the kitchen of our tiny Lyon flat, clutching a nowcold cup of tea while angry tears rise in my throat. My husband Antoine and I have built a life togethercozy home, a car, a steady incomeand on the surface everything seems fine. Yet our peace is cracking because of his seventeenyearold son from a previous marriage, Théo, who now lives with us. He still spends some time at his mothers house, but increasingly stays with us, turning my days into a nightmare.
Théo feels like a splinter lodged in my heart. He treats me like a servant, leaves his belongings scattered, abandons dirty dishes, and merely shrugs when I ask for help. Worse, he targets my fouryearold son, Lucas. I caught him giving Lucas a slap on the head just because the boy brushed against his phone. Our daughter, Amélie, ends up sleeping in our bedroom because theres no room for a separate bed in the tworoom apartment. If Théo moved back to his mothers, we could finally give our children their own space.
But Théo doesnt leave. His high school is just around the corner, and he prefers to stay with his father. He spends his days glued to his computer, shouting into his headset while gaming, preventing Lucas from sleeping. I am exhausted from cooking, cleaning, and caring for the kids, while he doesnt lift a finger to assist. His presence hangs over our home like a dark cloud, poisoning every moment.
I have begged Antoine to convince his son to return to his mothers spacious threeroom flat. We are four people cramped into an apartment that constantly screams for more space. Is this fair? Even if Théo got along with my children, he mistreats them. Lucas is beginning to mimic his behavior, becoming insolent and capricious. I fear he will grow up with the same indifference and arrogance.
Antoine refuses to act. Hes my son; I cant throw him out, he repeats, blind to my suffering. Almost every evening we argue because of Théo. I feel like a tired horse pulling the house alone while my husband turns a blind eye to his sons conduct. I am weary of his excuses and of this blind love for a teenager who is destroying our family.
One day I lost control. Théo had shouted at Lucas over a spilled drop of juice, and I snapped:
Enough! This isnt a hotel! If youre unhappy, go back to your mothers!
He just sneered,
This is my home; Im not moving.
Rage and helplessness shook me. Antoine, hearing the fight, sided with his son and accused me of not making any effort. I retreated to the bedroom, clutching a crying Amélie, letting my tears flow. Why should I endure this insolent teen while his mother lives comfortably without a thought for him?
Im searching for a way out. Perhaps I could speak directly to Théo, explaining that it would be better for him to stay with his mother and that he could still take the bus to school. Yet I fear hell mock me and that Antoine will again call me harsh. I dream of Théo disappearing from our lives, allowing my children to grow up in peace. Every contemptuous glance and abrupt gesture reminds me that he is still there, an intruder I cannot evict.
Sometimes I picture packing my bags and leaving with the kids to stay with my mother, leaving Antoine to deal with his son alone. But I love him and dont want to tear our family apart. All I want is a tranquil home. Why must I endure seeing Théo abuse my little ones while his mother enjoys freedom? I am fed up with this anger, exhausted by the constant worry for my children. I need an exit, yet I have no idea where to find it.
