“You’re nobody to me, and I don’t have to listen to you!” my stepdaughter snapped at me again.
Five years ago, I, Margaret, married Stephen, and ever since, my life in a quiet town near Manchester became a ceaseless struggle for peace at home. Stephen has a daughter from his first marriage—14-year-old Caroline—whom he sees often and supports financially. I never objected to their relationship—in fact, I’ve grown quite friendly with his ex-wife, Elizabeth. But Caroline, with her teenage defiance, has become my greatest trial, and her words—“You’re nobody to me”—cut like a knife every time.
Elizabeth is a sensible woman. If she wants Caroline to stay with us, she always calls ahead to check if it’s convenient. Sometimes we chat on the phone like old mates. She bears no grudge against Stephen: after the divorce, he left her the house they bought together and signed his share over to Caroline. Now, Stephen, our two-year-old son, Oliver, and I live in my two-bed flat. Stephen provides for us while I’m on maternity leave, focusing entirely on the baby. But whenever Caroline visits, chaos follows, and I can’t take it anymore.
Lately, Caroline’s rebellion has worsened. Elizabeth remarried, and her new husband, Edward, moved in. At first, Caroline seemed thrilled, but soon she turned sour. When Edward asked her to clean up after herself, she’d retort, “You’re not my dad—don’t tell me what to do!” Though Edward tried to bond, buying her gifts and staying patient, she shut him out. She became unbearable—leaving dishes unwashed, litter untouched, snapping at every request. In one row, she shouted, “This is Mum’s house—you don’t belong here!” Stephen was furious when he heard—they rent out his old flat, and that money supports Elizabeth’s whole household. Elizabeth scolded Caroline, who, in tears, begged her father to take her in.
I didn’t refuse. Oliver sleeps in our room, and the living room has a sofa bed for guests. I rang Elizabeth to make sure she was alright with it. She agreed but warned, “If Caroline misbehaves, call me straight away.” Caroline arrived sullen but quickly settled into her old ways. She ignored my requests, sulked at every remark. Plates piled up, her bed stayed unmade, clothes strewn everywhere while she nattered on the phone for hours. I felt anger bubbling inside but bit my tongue for Stephen’s sake.
Finally, I cracked and asked my husband to talk to her. “She doesn’t take me seriously,” I said. Stephen tried, but Caroline brushed him off. When I asked her again to clear the table, she spat, “You’re nobody to me, and I don’t have to listen to you!” My chest tightened with hurt. I fought back tears and said, “I’m your father’s wife and the one who decides who stays here. You’re only here because I allowed it. Don’t you dare speak to me like that!” Caroline stormed out, slamming the door. Nothing changed—she still acted as if I were invisible.
I consulted Stephen and called Elizabeth. “I thought she’d at least listen to her father,” Elizabeth sighed. “Bring her back. You’ve enough on your plate with the baby.” Stephen told Caroline they were taking her home. She packed in silence, then rang her grandmother, wailing about being “kicked out everywhere.” But my mother-in-law, Patricia, didn’t take her side. As Elizabeth later told me, Caroline had hoped her gran would take her in, but Patricia, newly smitten with a beau, wasn’t up for babysitting. Now, Caroline’s grounded—stuck doing chores on a tight schedule.
Elizabeth understands me—we’re on the same page. But Patricia keeps stirring the pot. “Poor little Caroline! Everyone’s abandoned her! Dad’s got a new wife, Mum’s got a new husband—no one cares about the child!” she wailed. I snapped, “Of course, least of all her gran, too busy with her love life.” Patricia hung up, but I didn’t care. What matters is Stephen and Elizabeth stand by me. Caroline even called yesterday, apologised, promised to do better. But the sting of her words lingers. I tried to be a mother to her, treated her as my own, yet she keeps pushing me away. My heart aches—I want peace, but I don’t know how to reach her. If she spits “You’re nobody to me” again, I’m not sure I’ll hold back.
