My husband and daughter always ignored me, so I left quietly. Then they started to panic…
My name is Mary. I’m thirty years old, working as a clerk for an identification company, and until recently, I believed my life with my husband Marcus and his daughter Emily was the “new family” I’d always dreamed of.
Marcus was nine years older than me. He was divorced when we met, raising Emily alone after his ex-wife gave up custody and vanished. Emily was twelve thentrendy, with bright eyes and remarkably polite when Marcus first introduced us.
*”Nice to meet you. I’m Emily. Thanks for always looking after Dad.”*
Her warmth eased my nervous hands. I’d braced for rejection, but instead, she seemed genuinely happy I was there.
*Maybe I could be the mother she never had.*
A year later, Marcus proposed. My parents hesitatedwho wouldnt, when the man already had a child?but convinced by my resolve, they gave their blessing. I married Marcus and moved into the London flat he shared with Emily.
At first, everything was perfect. Emily even called me *”Mum.”* Marcus was affectionate. We shared meals, watched telly together. I thought life had finally given me the family I longed for.
But cracks began to show.
One evening after dinner, Emily left her plate on the table and sprawled on the sofa, scrolling through her phone.
*”Emily, clear your plate. Youre old enough.”*
She rolled her eyes. *”Ugh, seriously? Cant you just do it?”*
I stiffened. *”No. Youre in secondary school. You need to learn to take care of yourself.”*
*”Stop nagging! Youre so annoying.”*
Marcus sided with her. *”Dont be so hard on her, Mary. Shes just a kid. You should clean up.”*
My face burned. *”Im not treating her differently because shes my stepdaughter. I want her to grow up responsible.”*
But the damage was done. From then on, Emily resisted every request. Marcus enabled her. Homework, shopping, choresgradually, it all fell to me.
When I confronted them*”Were a family; we should share responsibilities”*Marcus waved me off. *”Housework is womens work.”* Emily sneered, *”Youre such a cold mother.”*
Even though I worked full-time, they treated me like a maid.
Then came the school troubles. Emily was fourteen, facing entrance exams for a prestigious private school. She was bright but lazy, spending afternoons glued to her phone.
*”Emily, you need to study. Sixth form will be harder.”*
She scoffed. *”Shut up. Youre not my real mum.”*
Marcus chimed in. *”Dont stress her. Shell be fine. Shes reliable.”*
We argued bitterly. The more I pushed, the colder Marcus grew. He came home late, muttering about *”work.”* I suspected he was avoiding me.
The tension was suffocating. I considered divorce but hesitatedwould I disappoint my parents after convincing them this marriage was right?
Then, one morning, everything changed.
*”Good morning, Emily. Breakfast is ready.”*
She walked past me without a word.
*”Emily?”*
Nothing.
That evening, I called Marcus. *”Theres something I need to talk to you aboutEmilys exams”*
Silence. He didnt even turn his head.
Day after day, they ignored me. Greetings, questions, attempts at conversationnothing. I was invisible. They chatted between themselves, but the moment I spoke, their eyes glazed over.
I cooked, cleaned, launderednot even a *”thank you.”* On weekends, they went out together, leaving me alone in the flat I once called home.
I tried harderEmilys favourite shepherds pie, Marcuss preferred ale in the fridge. Nothing. The silence pressed in like a weight.
I cried in the shower where no one could hear. *Why?*
The answer came by accident.
One evening, I came home early and heard voices from the half-open living room door.
Emily giggled. *”Mums so clueless. The silent treatment works perfectly. She does everything without complaining.”*
Marcus laughed. *”Exactly. No more nagging, and she still pays the bills. Shes a useful housekeeper.”*
Emily chirped, *”Ill need more money for sixth form. She can just work harder! Im youngI shouldnt have to do chores. This is perfect. Lets just keep ignoring her.”*
My heart pounded. My husband and stepdaughterlaughing at how easily theyd turned me into their servant.
White-hot rage burned in my chest. I bit my lip so hard it bled.
I would never forgive them.
The next morning, I tried once more. *”Good morning.”*
They ignored me. Emily even clicked her tongue.
After they left, I packed my bags in silence. I took only essentials, shut the door behind me, and walked out without a note.
I went to my parents. Braced for their disappointment. Instead, Mum took my hand, her eyes wet. *”Stay as long as you need. It must have been so hard.”*
Dad said sharply, *”You did everything you could. Thats enough.”*
Tears Id held back for months spilled over. For the first time in years, I felt seen.
Days later, my phone rang. Marcus. Against my better judgment, I answered.
*”Where the hell are you?”* he shouted. *”How dare you leave? Youre her motherhave you no shame? Get back here now!”*
I held the phone away, then steeled myself. *”No, Marcus. Im not coming back. I want a divorce.”*
*”Dont be ridiculous! You cant throw a tantrum just because we ignored you a bit! Were not divorcing.”*
She was panickingbecause without me, there was no maid.
I said quietly, *”Lets end this. Why dont you admit youve been cheating?”*
Silence. Then*”What what are you talking about?”*
But I knew. The anonymous call Id received was from Marcuss mistresss husband. He wasnt working latehe was dining with her. Sometimes he even took Emily, whod once sighed, *”Dads girlfriend is so pretty. I wish she were my mum.”*
I cut in. *”Ill file for maintenance. And the flat isnt yours. Its mine. Dad bought it before we married, under my name. Ive already moved my things and listed it for sale. Your and Emilys belongings? Sent to your parents. Good luck.”*
Dead silence.
Then Marcuss voice, desperate. *”Mary, please. Im sorry. I love only you. Forgive me.”*
But the words slid off me like water.
*”You and Emily didnt want a wife or mother. You wanted a maid. Its over.”*
I hung up.
My husband and daughter had always ignored meso I left quietly. Then they panicked.
The divorce was swift once my solicitor got involved. The facts were clear: Marcuss affair, his financial recklessness, how hed treated me. His mistresss husband filed his own lawsuit. Their little *”romance”* left them drowning in legal fees.
Marcus drained his savings paying child support and damages. It wasnt enough. He took loans.
Meanwhile, Marcus and Emily were evicted from my flat, sold within weeks. With the money, I bought a modest apartment near my officequiet, sunlit, filled only with things I chose.
Marcus and Emily ended up in a grimy bedsit across town.
At first, I felt nothing but relief. Then the calls started again.
*”Mary, please. Lets reconcile. Emily misses you.”*
But his voice held desperation, not love. He wanted stabilitymoney, chores, silence.
*”No,”* I said coldly. *”You made your bed. Lie in it.”*
*”Mary”*
I hung up.
Months passed.
Rumours reached me. Marcuss debts mounted. Emily attended a state school instead of the private one shed bragged about. Her arrogance isolated her. Friends drifted away. She spent more time at home. Neighbours complained about the stench from their flat.
One day, Marcus called again, voice ragged.
*”Mary, please. I cant do this. Emily wont leave her room. She screams at me. The place is filthy. Theyll evict us. Please come back. For Emily, if not for me.”*
A pang of sadness hit me. Once, Id wanted to be Emilys mother. Once, Id tried.
Then I remembered her giggle. *”Mums so clueless. The
