The Revenge of the Stepmom
From the moment Josh moved in with us, he made it clear—I was the villain in his story. I was married to David for five years when his 16-year-old son came to live with us. And boy, did Josh hate me.
If I suggested watching a movie, he’d scoff, “Like I’d waste my time on your lame picks.” If I cooked his favorite meal, he’d push it away. “This tastes nothing like Mom’s.”
Every time he said “Mom,” it was like a knife twisting in my chest. “You’re not my mom,” he’d snap if I so much as asked about his day.
“Stop pretending.”
He mocked my age (I was only 12 years older than him), my hobbies (“Who even paints watercolors anymore?”), and my small-town roots (*”Bet Ohio was *real* exciting.”*). Every word was a barb, and every barb drew blood. I tried not to cry in front of him, but sometimes, when David found me sobbing in our room, he’d just sigh.
“He’ll come around. He’s just hurt.”
Yeah? Well, so was I.
The College Fund That Backfired
When Josh’s senior year rolled around, David started stressing about tuition. Josh had decent grades, but not scholarship-level, and David’s business wasn’t doing great. That’s when I saw my chance—not to buy his love, but to give him something I never had: a real shot at a future.
One night, I sat them both down. “I know college is expensive,” I said carefully. “I want to help.
I can pay for your tuition.”
Josh looked up from his phone like I’d just offered him a pile of dirt. “You can’t buy your way into being my mom.”
The words stung. But what hurt worse?
David nodding in agreement. “He’s right.”
Just like that, my kindness was twisted into some pathetic attempt to buy his love. So I backed off.
Completely. When Josh struggled with community college and part-time jobs, I stayed silent. When David fretted over his son’s future, I kept my mouth shut.
I’d learned my place. Five Years Later… The Phone Call
Then, out of nowhere—Josh called me. I nearly dropped my phone.
He’d never called me before. Not once. “I’ve got news,” he said, no hello, no small talk.
“I’m marrying Kelsey. Dad must’ve told you.”
“Congratulations,” I said, wary. “Here’s the thing,” he continued.
“Kelsey wants a destination wedding in Costa Rica. It’s expensive, so we’re asking family to chip in.”
I waited. “We’re only inviting close family,” he added, *”so obviously, you won’t be there.
But if you *actually* care about this family, you’ll help.”*
I almost laughed. “Let me get this straight—you want me to pay for a wedding I’m not even invited to?”
Silence. Then—click.
He hung up. When I told David, he looked at me like I was the problem. “Why wouldn’t you help?
This is your chance to fix things!”
“Fix things?” I stared at him. “By paying for a wedding I’m not good enough to attend?”
David’s face darkened. *”You’re being selfish.
This is about *family.“
Then, the final blow: “Maybe… maybe I should reconsider our marriage.”
My blood turned to ice. All those years flashed before me—every insult, every cruel jab, every time David let Josh treat me like dirt. Family.
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