I sit in the kitchen of our small flat in Manchester, clutching a cup of tea thats gone cold, anger rising like a knot in my throat. My husband, James, and I built a family together, and on the surface, everything seems finea cosy home, a car, a steady income. Yet our happiness is crumbling because of his seventeen-year-old son, Ethan, from his first marriage, who now lives with us. He splits his time between his mothers place and ours, but hes staying here more often, turning my life into a nightmare.
Ethan is like a thorn in my side. He treats me like a servant, leaves his things strewn about, ignores dirty dishes, and meets my requests for help with nothing but a shrug. The worst part? He takes it out on my four-year-old son, Oliver. Ive seen him flick the back of Olivers head just because the little boy accidentally touched his phone. My daughter, Lily, sleeps in our room because theres no space for another bed in our tiny two-bedroom flat. If Ethan moved back to his mums, we could finally make proper rooms for the children.
But Ethan wont leave. His sixth form is just down the road, and hed rather live with his dad. He spends his days glued to his computer, shouting into his headset while gaming, keeping Oliver awake. Im exhaustedcooking, cleaning, looking after the kidsand he wont lift a finger to help. His presence is like a dark cloud over our home, poisoning every moment.
Ive tried talking to James, begging him to convince Ethan to go back to his mum. His ex-wife, Charlotte, lives alone in a spacious three-bedroom house. Meanwhile, the four of us squeeze into a flat thats too small, every corner screaming for space. Is that fair? If only Ethan got along with my children, but he bullies them. Olivers starting to mimic him, becoming rude and demanding. Im terrified hell grow up with the same coldness, the same arrogance.
James wont do anything. Hes my son, I cant kick him out, he says, blind to my pain. We argue about Ethan almost every night. I feel like a worn-out horse, dragging the weight of this house alone while my husband turns a blind eye to his sons behaviour. Im sick of his excuses, this blind love for a teenager whos tearing our family apart.
One day, I couldnt take it anymore. Ethan snapped at Oliver for spilling a drop of juice, and I lost it.
Enough! This isnt a hotel! If youre not happy, go back to your mums!
He just smirked.
This is my home too. Im not going anywhere.
I shook with helpless rage. James, hearing the row, took his sons side, accusing me of not trying hard enough. I fled to the bedroom, holding a tearful Lily close, letting my own tears fall. Why should I put up with this rude boy when his mother lives in comfort without a second thought for him?
Im trying to think of a solution. Maybe talking to Ethan directly? Explaining hed be better off at his mums, that he could take the bus to school? But Im afraid hell laugh in my face, that James will accuse me of being heartless. I dream of Ethan vanishing from our lives, of my children growing up in peace. But every scornful look, every rough shove reminds me hes here, an intruder I cant shake.
Sometimes I imagine packing my bags and taking the kids to my mums, leaving James to deal with his son alone. But I love him, and I dont want to break our family. All I want is a peaceful home. Why should I suffer, watching Ethan mistreat my little ones while his mother enjoys her freedom? Im tired of this anger, tired of fearing for my children. I need a way out, but I dont know where to find it.
