Part 1
I’m Mary, 30 years old, working at an ID company. Until recently, I believed life with my husband Marcus and his daughter Anna was the “new family” I had always wanted.
Marcus is nine years older than me. When we met, he was divorced and raising Anna alone because his ex-wife gave up custody and left.
Anna was twelve then—stylish, lively, and polite when Marcus introduced us.
“Nice to meet you. I’m Anna. Thanks for always looking after Dad,” she said.
Her cheerful attitude eased my nerves. I had expected her to dislike me, but instead, she seemed truly happy I was there.
I thought to myself: She must feel lonely without a mother. Maybe I can fill that role.
A year later, Marcus proposed. My parents were unsure at first—after all, he already had a child—but when they saw how determined I was, they gave their approval. I married Marcus and moved into the condo he shared with Anna.
At the beginning, everything went well. Anna even called me “Mom.” Marcus was loving, and we spent time together as a family—eating dinner, watching funny shows. I felt like I was living a fairy tale.
But slowly, problems started showing.
One evening after dinner, Anna left her plate on the table and lay on the sofa with her phone.
“Anna, please clean your plate. You’re old enough,” I told her.
She rolled her eyes. “Ugh, really? Can’t you just do it, Mom?”
I stayed firm. “No. You’re in middle school. You should start taking responsibility.”
“Stop nagging! You’re so annoying,” she snapped.
Marcus defended her. “Don’t be so hard on her, Mary. She’s still a kid. You should clean it up.”
I felt embarrassed. “I’m not saying this because she’s my stepdaughter. I just want her to learn.”
But from that day, Anna pushed back against everything I asked. Marcus always spoiled her. Soon, almost all the housework—cooking, cleaning, shopping—fell on me.
When I tried to talk things out—saying we’re a family and should work together—Marcus dismissed me. “Housework is for women,” he said. Anna mocked me too: “You’re such a cold mother.”
Even though I had a full-time job, they treated me like their maid.
Then school became an issue. At fourteen, Anna had to prepare for high school entrance exams. She was smart but lazy. She dreamed of a top private school, yet spent all her time on her phone.
“Anna, you should study. High school will be tougher,” I told her.
She snapped back, “Shut up. You’re not my real mom.”
Marcus defended her. “Stop nagging. She’ll be fine. She’s dependable.”
We argued badly. The more I pushed, the colder Marcus grew. Sometimes he stayed out late, claiming it was “work.” I suspected he was avoiding me.
The house felt heavier each day. I even thought about divorce, but I hesitated—I had fought so hard to marry him, and I worried about letting my parents down.
Then one morning, things changed.
“Good morning, Anna. Breakfast is ready,” I said.
She walked past me without a word.
“Anna?” I tried again.
Nothing.
That evening I turned to Marcus. “There’s something I want to talk about regarding Anna—”
He stayed silent. He didn’t even look at me.
Day after day, they pretended I didn’t exist. No replies to greetings, no answers to questions, no response to my words. They talked and laughed with each other, but whenever I spoke, they went silent.
I still cooked, cleaned, and did the laundry, but they didn’t even bother to say “thank you.” On weekends, they went out together and left me alone in the condo I had once thought was my home.
I tried harder—making Anna’s favorite curry, keeping Marcus’s favorite beer in the fridge—but nothing changed. The silence felt suffocating.
I cried quietly in the shower, wondering why this was happening.
One evening, I came home early and overheard their voices through the half-open living-room door.
Anna laughed. “Mom is so easy to fool. Ignoring her works perfectly—she just stays quiet and does all the work.”
Marcus chuckled. “Yeah, no more nagging, and she still pays all the bills. She’s basically a free housekeeper now.”
Anna added proudly, “I’ll need more money for high school anyway. Mom can just keep working harder. I’m young, I don’t need to do chores. This is perfect. Let’s keep ignoring her.”
My chest tightened. My husband and stepdaughter were laughing together about how they had turned me into their servant.
Anger boiled inside me. I bit my lip until it bled. I knew then—I could never forgive them.
The next morning, I tried one last time. “Good morning.”
They ignored me again. Anna even clicked her tongue at me.
When they left, I quietly packed my things. I only took the essentials, locked the door, and walked away without leaving a note.
I went to my parents’ house. I had feared they would be disappointed. Instead, my mother held my hand, tears in her eyes. “Stay here as long as you need. You must have suffered so much.”
My father said firmly, “You did your best. That’s enough.”
The tears I had been holding back for months finally spilled out. For the first time in two years, I felt noticed.
A few days later, my phone rang. It was Marcus. Against my better judgment, I picked up.
“Where the hell are you?” he shouted. “How dare you leave? You’re supposed to be a mother! Aren’t you ashamed? Get back here right now!”
I pulled the phone away for a moment, then put it back to my ear. “No, Marcus. I’m not coming back. I want a divorce.”
“What nonsense is this? Stop acting childish just because we ignored you a little! We’re not divorcing.”
He was panicking—because without me, he’d lose his maid.
I said calmly, “We are divorcing. Because you’re cheating, aren’t you?”
Silence. Then he stammered, “W-what are you talking about?”
But I already knew. That strange call I’d gotten had been from the husband of Marcus’s mistress. Marcus hadn’t been working late—he was out dining with her. Sometimes he even brought Anna along and lied about it. I’d even overheard Anna once whisper, “Dad’s lover is so pretty. I wish she was my mom.”
I drove the point in. “I’ll be asking for alimony. And by the way—the condo isn’t yours. It’s mine. My father bought it before we married, and the title is in my name. I’ve already moved my things to a new place and listed the condo for sale. As for you and Anna’s stuff? I sent it to your parents’ house. Good luck.”
The line went completely silent.
Then Marcus’s voice cracked: “Mary, please. I’m sorry. I only love you. Forgive me.”
But his words meant nothing to me now.
“You and Anna never wanted a wife or a mother—you just wanted a maid. It’s over.”
And I hung up.
Part 2
The divorce went through quicker than I expected once I got a lawyer. The evidence was clear—Marcus’s affair, his careless spending, and the way he treated me. On top of that, his mistress’s husband also filed a case. Their little “romance” turned into a pile of legal trouble.
Marcus burned through his savings paying me alimony and compensating the mistress’s husband. It still wasn’t enough, so he had to take out loans.
Meanwhile, Marcus and Anna were forced out of my condo, which I sold within weeks. With that money, I bought a small apartment near my office—quiet, bright, and filled only with things I chose myself.
Marcus and Anna ended up living in a cramped, run-down rental on the edge of town.
At first, I only felt relief. But then, the phone calls began.
“Mary, please. Let’s get back together. Anna wants to apologize too.”
But his voice wasn’t filled with love—it was full of desperation. He wanted the comfort I had once given him: the money, the chores, the peace.
“No,” I said firmly. “You told me I was nothing without you. Now you see—you are nothing without me.”
And I hung up.
Months went by.
From acquaintances, I learned what had happened. Marcus’s debts kept piling up. Anna ended up in a public high school instead of the fancy private one she used to brag about. At first, she acted proud, but her attitude pushed people away. Friends stopped hanging out with her, and she stayed home most of the time. Neighbors even complained about the smell coming from their apartment.
One day, Marcus called again, his voice shaky.
“Mary, please. I can’t handle this. Anna won’t leave her room. She just yells at me. The place is a mess. The landlord is threatening to evict us. Please… come back. If not for me, then for Anna.”
For a moment, I felt a sting of sadness. I had once wanted to be Anna’s mother. I had tried so hard.
But then I remembered her cruel words: ‘Ignoring strategy is a great success. Mom is so simple-minded.’
She had laughed at me with her father, treated me like nothing.
“I won’t,” I said. “You both made this bed. Now lie in it.”
“Mary—”
I hung up.
The divorce was finalized. The compensation was paid. The papers were signed.
I blocked Marcus’s number and focused on my work. My coworkers noticed the change in me—I laughed more, looked healthier. At home, I filled my apartment with flowers and pictures of my parents, the people who had truly stood by me when my so-called family turned against me.
I wasn’t thinking about marriage again anytime soon. Instead, I was finding myself again—separate from Marcus and Anna.
One evening, my father poured me tea and said, “You’re stronger than you realize, Mary. They didn’t see that.”
I smiled. “They treated me like their servant. But I walked away. Now they’re the ones begging.”
A few weeks later, Marcus made one last attempt. He came to my parents’ house looking a mess—his hair unkempt, his eyes red.
“Mary, I’ll do anything. Please come back. Anna needs you.”
I looked at him for a long moment before speaking softly:
“You had me once. I begged you to treat me like family. Instead, you and your daughter laughed at me, used me, and ignored me. Now you know what life is without me.”
His lips shook as he whispered, “You’re nothing without us.”
I stepped closer, my voice steady. “No, Marcus. You are nothing without me. Look at yourself. I walked away quietly, and now you’re the one standing here, desperate and speechless.”
He lowered his head, unable to answer.
I turned away, closed the door, and felt thirty months of pain finally lift off my shoulders.
Life moved forward. My parents welcomed me back with love. At work, I earned a promotion. I traveled with friends. I spent evenings reading in peace, without fear of being mocked.
Marcus and Anna became little more than gossip. People said Marcus was still drowning in debt, while Anna, bitter and lonely, wasted her days online. They were living with the consequences of their choices.
As for me—I chose peace.
I didn’t need their approval. I didn’t need their company.
I had myself, my freedom, and the power to shape my own future.
And that was enough.
END.