Chapter 1: The Living Room Floor
The first thing my father heard when he came home early was my stepmother saying, “Your mother is gone, Emma. You don’t get to act like a princess anymore.””
The second thing he heard was her sister laughing.
The third thing was me crying.
Dad stood outside the living room, hidden by the hallway wall, while I knelt on the hardwood floor with a wet towel in my hands.
And for once, Vanessa didn’t know he was watching.
I was twelve when my mother died.
Dad remarried Vanessa eighteen months later.
At first, she was perfect.
She packed my lunch. She attended school meetings. She left little notes beside my cereal bowl.
Dad thought he had found someone who could make our house feel whole again.
So did I.
Then Dad started traveling more for work.
And Vanessa stopped pretending.
That Saturday afternoon, her younger sister Rachel was visiting. They were stretched across our cream-colored sofa, drinking iced coffee and scrolling through their phones.
I was upstairs finishing homework when Vanessa called.
“Emma!””
I hurried down.
“Yes?””
Vanessa pointed toward the rug.
Rachel had taken off her shoes. Vanessa had too.
“Clean this up.””
I looked down.
There were muddy marks near their feet.
“Okay.””
I went for the mop.
Vanessa clicked her tongue.
“No. Come here.””
I stopped.
She tossed a small towel onto the floor.
“Use that.””
I stared at her.
“With my hands?””
Rachel laughed.
“Oh, come on. It’s not going to kill you.””
I crouched reluctantly and began wiping.
Vanessa watched me for several seconds before extending one bare foot.
“You missed something.””
“There’s nothing there.””
Her expression changed.
“Excuse me?””
I swallowed.
“I said the floor looks clean.””
Rachel lowered her phone.
“Vanessa, she’s getting an attitude.””
Vanessa leaned forward.
“You heard Rachel. Clean properly.””
Then she placed her foot directly on the towel.
I understood.
My face burned.
“You want me to clean your feet?””
Vanessa smiled.
“I want you to learn respect.””
I stood.
“No.””
The room went silent.
Rachel actually laughed again.
Vanessa rose from the sofa.
“What did you say?””
“I said no.””
My hands were shaking, but I didn’t sit back down.
“My dad would never let you treat me like this.””
That was when Vanessa crossed the room.
She didn’t hit me.
She did something that somehow hurt worse.
She grabbed the framed photograph from the side table—the last family picture taken before Mom got sick.
Dad stood behind us.
Mom had her arms around me.
We were all smiling.
Vanessa held it up.
“Your father married me,” she said quietly.
“Do you understand what that means?””
“Put that down.””
“It means this is my house now.””
“Vanessa—”
“And your mother?””
She looked directly into my eyes.
“She isn’t coming back to save you.””
My throat tightened.
“Stop.””
Vanessa placed the photograph facedown on the table.
“Get on the floor.””
Rachel shifted uncomfortably.
“Maybe that’s enough.””
Vanessa ignored her.
“Now, Emma.””
Tears blurred my vision.
I hated myself for kneeling.
But I did.
Vanessa returned to the sofa and stretched her feet toward me.
“Good girl.””
I wiped at the mud beside her chair.
“Not the floor,” Vanessa said.
I froze.
She pointed at her shoes.
“Those.””
“They’re clean.””
“Then polish them.””
Rachel frowned.
“Vanessa…”
“What?”” Vanessa snapped.
“She lives here for free. She eats food I buy. She can help.””
“I’m twelve.””
Vanessa leaned closer.
“Exactly. Old enough to understand that your father has a new family.””
I looked at Rachel.
She turned her eyes away.
Something inside me cracked.
“You’re not my family.””
Vanessa’s face hardened.
“What?””
“You’ll never be my mother.””
Her hand closed around my wrist.
Not hard enough to leave a mark.
Hard enough to frighten me.
“You need to be very careful what you say next.””
I pulled away.
“You hate me.””
Vanessa lowered her voice.
“You’re exhausting.””
“Because I miss my mom?””
“Because every time your father looks at you, he remembers her.””
I stopped breathing.
Vanessa saw immediately that she had found the wound.
So she pressed harder.
“You think he travels because of work?””
“Stop.””
“You think he enjoys coming home to a child who reminds him of his dead wife?””
“Stop!””
Rachel stood.
“Vanessa, seriously.””
But Vanessa wasn’t looking at Rachel anymore.
She was looking at me.
“Your father moved on, Emma. Maybe you should too.””
A sound came from the hallway.
Small.
Metal against wood.
Vanessa turned.
“Who’s there?””
Nobody answered.
She stepped toward the doorway.
“Daniel?””
My father walked into the living room.
His suitcase was still in one hand.
His car keys were in the other.
And I had never seen his face look like that.
“Dad?””
My voice broke.
Vanessa went completely white.
“Daniel.””
Dad looked at me kneeling beside the sofa.
Then at the towel.
Then at the family photograph facedown on the table.
Finally, he looked at Vanessa.
“How long,” he asked, almost whispering, “has this been happening?””
Vanessa opened her mouth.
But Dad wasn’t asking her.
He was asking me.
May you like
And the answer I gave him made the suitcase slip from his hand.
“Since the first week you started traveling.””
