**Diary Entry June 12th**
Im sitting in the kitchen of our small flat in Manchester, clutching a cup of tea thats gone cold, anger rising like bile in my throat. On paper, my husband, William, and I have built a good lifea cosy home, a car, steady income. But beneath the surface, our happiness is cracking under the weight of his seventeen-year-old son, Jake, from his first marriage. Jake splits his time between ours and his mums, but lately, hes been staying here more often, turning my life into a nightmare.
Jake is like a thorn in my side. He treats me like a servantleaving his mess everywhere, ignoring dirty dishes, shrugging off any request for help. Worst of all, hes unkind to my four-year-old, Oliver. Just yesterday, I saw him swat the back of Olivers head simply because the boy brushed against his phone. My little girl, Sophie, sleeps in our room because theres no space for a proper bed in this cramped two-bed flat. If Jake left, we could finally make a proper room for the kids.
But he wont go. His college is nearby, and hed rather live with his dad. He spends hours glued to his computer, shouting into his headset while gaming, keeping Oliver awake. Im exhaustedcooking, cleaning, looking after the childrenwhile Jake wont lift a finger. His presence hangs over us like a storm cloud, poisoning every moment.
Ive begged William to talk sense into him, to send Jake back to his mum. His ex, Charlotte, lives alone in a spacious three-bed house. Meanwhile, the four of us are squeezed into this shoebox of a flat, every corner screaming for space. Is that fair? If Jake at least got along with the kids, I could bear it, but hes cruel to them. Olivers starting to mimic his rudeness, becoming defiant and bratty. I worry hell grow up just as cold and arrogant.
William refuses to act. “Hes my sonI cant just kick him out,” he says, blind to my misery. We argue about Jake nearly every night. I feel like a worn-out horse, dragging this household alone while my husband turns a blind eye. Im tired of his excuses, of his blind love for a boy whos tearing us apart.
Yesterday, I snapped. Jake yelled at Oliver over a spilled drop of juice, and I lost it.
“Enough! This isnt a hotel! If youre unhappy, go back to your mums!”
He just smirked. “This is my home too. Im not going anywhere.”
I shook with helpless rage. William took his side, accusing me of “not trying.” I locked myself in the bedroom, holding a tearful Sophie, my own tears falling. Why should I put up with this surly teenager when his mum lives in comfort without a care?
I need a solution. Maybe talk to Jake directly? Explain hed be better off at Charlotteshe could take the bus to college. But Im afraid hell laugh in my face, that William will call me heartless. I dream of Jake vanishing, of my children growing up in peace. Every scornful glance, every sharp word reminds me hes here, an unwelcome guest I cant evict.
Sometimes I imagine packing our things and leaving for my mums, letting William deal with his son alone. But I love him, and I wont break our family apart. All I want is a quiet home. Why must I suffer, watching Jake bully my babies while Charlotte lives free? Im sick of the anger, sick of fearing for my children. There has to be a way outbut I dont know where to find it.
**Lesson learned:** Love shouldnt mean endless sacrifice. A home isnt just wallsits peace, respect, safety. If those are missing, something has to change.
