The Husband’s Daughter from His First Marriage
The New Year’s break was nearly over. After days of rich holiday meals—roasts, puddings, and snacks—Olivia decided to make porridge for breakfast. Time to return to something plain and ordinary.
The three of them were eating when her husband’s phone rang from the other room. He excused himself. Olivia strained to hear his muffled replies, trying to guess who was calling and why.
When James returned, he didn’t look upset—just preoccupied.
“Mum rang,” he began hesitantly. “Her blood pressure’s up. She asked me to come over.”
“Of course, go,” Olivia nodded.
As he left to get ready, she remembered his words on the phone: *Right now? Are you sure? Fine, fine.* Normally, when his mother demanded his presence, James would drop everything and rush to her. *Stop overthinking this,* Olivia told herself.
“I won’t be long,” James called from the hall before the door slammed behind him.
“Eat up,” Olivia urged their son, Toby, who was dragging his spoon through his porridge.
“Can we go sledging? You promised.” Toby scooped a tiny bit onto his spoon and examined it before eating.
“Once Dad’s back, we’ll go. Deal?” She forced a smile. “But only if you finish your porridge.”
“Fine,” Toby mumbled, lifting another reluctant spoonful.
“If that bowl isn’t empty in five minutes, we’re not going anywhere,” Olivia said firmly, standing to wash the dishes.
She was ironing while Toby played with his toy cars when the front door clicked open.
*Finally.* Olivia set the iron down and listened to the rustling in the hallway. *What’s taking him so long?* She went to meet James.
A girl of about ten stood in the doorway, staring curiously at Olivia. James stepped behind her, looking guilty. He placed his hands on the girl’s shoulders and jutted his chin defiantly.
“This is my daughter, Emily,” he said, eyes dropping to the floor. “Mum asked me to take her for the night.”
“Right. And her mother? Off with another boyfriend to Spain?” Olivia snapped.
James shrugged but said nothing as Olivia turned back to her ironing.
“Come in,” she heard him say, and out of the corner of her eye, she saw Emily approach Toby.
“Is there any porridge left?” James asked.
“I don’t want porridge,” Emily cut in. “I want pasta and sausages.”
James looked helplessly between his daughter and Olivia, who rolled her eyes and waved him toward the kitchen.
A few minutes later, he called her in.
“Do we have any pasta? I couldn’t find any.”
“There’s leftovers. I’ll shop after I finish the ironing.” Olivia shot him a pointed look.
“Don’t look at me like that. I had no idea—”
“Really? Your mum didn’t mention why she called? Or did you just not think to ask *me* first?” His silence confirmed it. “You should’ve warned me—prepared Toby. Now they’ll be fighting over you.”
As if on cue, Toby wailed from the living room. Olivia rushed in, James close behind.
“Sort this out,” she said, throwing her hands up.
Toby clung to her, while Emily glared at the floor.
“What happened?” James went to his daughter first—a sting Olivia couldn’t ignore.
“She took my car!” Toby sobbed.
The hiss of boiling pasta sent James running back to the kitchen. *Of course I can’t say a word to her. The poor little thing, as his mother calls her. But what about me?*
“Want to watch cartoons?” Olivia forced calm into her voice as she turned to Emily.
The girl nodded, and Olivia turned on the TV with relief. The children sat on the sofa.
“Is your mother at it again? Trying to wreck our marriage? She’s obsessed with getting you back with your ex. I heard how she screamed when Toby was born—that Emily was her only real grandchild. Testing me, is she?” Olivia hissed in the kitchen.
“She’s really ill,” James defended.
“And a ten-year-old would’ve been such a burden? She could’ve called an ambulance. At her age, I could cook eggs myself.”
“Enough!” James slammed a spoon down. “Emily, pasta’s ready!”
“Daddy, bring it here,” Emily called sweetly.
“Daddy,” Olivia mocked under her breath. “Go on, run to her.” She left James to deal with his daughter.
Later, on the way to the hill, Olivia tried to convince herself to be kind. *She’s a child. Not her fault her own mother didn’t want her. Toby’s innocent too. And me?* Her thoughts spiraled. *Mum warned me his ex would never let us live in peace. Too late now.*
At the slope, Emily immediately claimed the sledge. Olivia helped Toby onto a plastic tray. As he shrieked down, Emily was already climbing back up. Olivia watched bitterly as her five-year-old struggled with his tray.
“Your turn next,” Olivia told Emily, who ignored her and sat back on the sledge.
James pushed her down without a word.
“What about me?” Toby asked, crestfallen.
Olivia knelt beside him. “Tomorrow, just us two—you can sledge all you want. Deal?”
She whispered, “Wait for me at the bottom,” then marched past James.
“Where are you going?”
“I’m cold. Have fun.” She hurried down the icy steps.
That afternoon, after lunch, Olivia put Toby down for a nap.
“Keep the volume low,” she told Emily, turning the TV down. “I’m getting milk and pasta.”
Forty minutes later, as she returned, James rushed out barely dressed.
“Toby’s gone—”
Olivia’s heart pounded. She pushed past him into the flat.
“I was on a work call—then the door was open—”
“Toby!” She ran to his empty room.
“What did you do?” She grabbed Emily by the shoulders.
The girl’s lip trembled, but no tears fell. Olivia turned off the blaring TV.
“Talk!”
Emily stayed silent, looking to James. Olivia bolted outside, screaming Toby’s name.
The empty courtyard offered no answers. Then—under the stairwell, behind broken prams and sledges—Toby sat curled in the dark.
“Come on, love. You’ll freeze.” She lifted him, ignoring James as she carried Toby inside.
“She just told him I’m her dad, that I love her more. She’s a kid, Liv,” James tried.
Olivia didn’t respond.
“What do you want from me?” Her voice shook. “You left them alone. She’s jealous.” Rage and helplessness choked her. “How many times have I told you to lock the door?”
“Toby, I love you. Both of you,” James said before leaving with Emily.
The slam of the door was final. *His mother will tell everyone I’m a monster now. So be it.* Olivia had no energy left to care.
That night, after James returned, they talked. Emily never stayed over again.
When men fall in love and start new families, they rarely think of their children—how divorce scars them, how jealousy festers. And the new children? They grow up feeling guilty.
*A child sees keenly, remembers sharply, and carries those memories forever.*
