“You’re nothing to me!”—the scream from his stepdaughter cut deeper than any knife.
“You’re nothing to me!” shouted Emily, slamming the door so hard the china in the cabinet rattled. The house fell into dead silence. Olivia sank onto the edge of a chair, clutching a mug of long-cold tea.
“Mum, what happened?” asked little Sophie, peering into the kitchen.
Olivia just shook her head, tears glinting in her eyes.
“Was it Emily again?”
“Her teacher called…” Olivia whispered. “Never mind, it doesn’t matter…”
Sophie moved closer and wrapped an arm around her mother’s shoulders. “Mummy, don’t be upset. It’ll get better.” Though only thirteen, Sophie had a wisdom beyond her years—sometimes she seemed older than fifteen-year-old Emily, her stepsister.
Half an hour later, Andrew came home from work. The scent of dinner filled the house. Everyone but Emily sat at the table.
“Where is she?” he asked, glancing at the empty chair.
“She’s upset,” Sophie murmured, stirring her soup carefully.
Andrew looked at his wife. She guiltily averted her eyes.
“Her teacher rang. Emily’s failing every subject. I tried to talk to her…” Olivia’s voice wavered as she fought back tears.
Andrew stood and walked to his daughter’s room. He knocked.
“Go away!” came the muffled reply.
“It’s just me. Can I come in?”
The door cracked open. Emily, seeing he was alone, reluctantly let him inside.
“What’s this mess?” He glanced at the scattered clothes and an empty packet of instant noodles.
“Olivia keeps—” Emily started, but Andrew cut her off.
“I rang Mrs. Thompson myself. You really are failing everything. What’s going on, Em?”
She stayed silent, shoving textbooks into her bag.
“I don’t expect you to love Olivia, but you could show her some respect. You hurt her every single day.”
“And she doesn’t hurt me? You took her and Sophie to the shopping centre, left me alone!”
“Or did you forget I grounded you for sneaking out to your mate’s at midnight?”
“Of course! I’m the bad one, and Sophie’s the angel!”
“Enough!” Andrew’s voice turned sharp. “You’re taking this too far!”
He walked out without waiting for a reply. Olivia sat at the kitchen table, hands clenched. Words stuck in her throat. When Andrew walked in, she stayed quiet. Finally, after a long pause, she spoke.
“I don’t know what to do anymore. Emily pushes me away. She’s jealous of you. I tried, I really did… but I never could be anyone important to her.”
“I know, love,” Andrew said, pulling her close. “But how do we fix this?”
“We should move out. Just for a bit,” Olivia forced out.
“What?” He pulled back. “You’re serious?”
“Maybe if she has you to herself, things will change…”
Emily heard every word, pressed against the door. Hope flared in her chest. *Dad will live with just me again.*
The next morning, Andrew told her they were moving back to their old flat. Sophie burst into tears, storming into Emily’s room before slamming the door behind her.
“You hate my mum, and now you’re taking my dad!”
Emily hadn’t expected this. At first, she was thrilled—until she realised how hard life was without Olivia. No one cooked. No one helped with homework. Andrew was always at work, leaving her to boil pasta and wash socks. He’d become stern, impatient—nothing like Olivia, who’d stayed kind even when Emily screamed in her face.
Her birthday was coming up. She decided to bake a cake. Found a recipe, mixed the batter… but lost track of time. The sponge burned. When Andrew came home, he found her crying over the blackened lump.
“Dad… let’s go back,” she whispered into his shoulder. “I’m sorry. I love you… and Olivia… and Sophie…”
“I love you too, sweetheart. But it’s not that simple. We hurt them. We have to ask if they’ll even have us back.”
Emily went quiet. Shame burned inside her.
“You have to understand,” Andrew said. “Olivia might not be your mum, but she deserves respect. And you *have* to apologise.”
She barely slept that night. For the first time in ages, she wasn’t angry—just ashamed and aching. In the morning, she asked Andrew to take her back.
She apologised. Properly. With tears. To Olivia. To Sophie. And a few days later, for the first time ever, she whispered, “Mum… forgive me.”
No one could say who cried harder in that moment.
