I didn’t want my stepmother at my wedding. But my father asked me to come with tears. After almost 20 years of mild insults and tension, I agreed. That was one day, I told myself. I’ve already been able to process it for a few hours. I had no idea what she was planning.
My name is Lindsay. I’m 28 years old and last month I married my best friend, Ethan. Includes the emotional consequences of growing up with my stepmother, Diane.
Ethan was kindly warning me. Do you want it there? This is our day, not yours. But I didn’t want to cause a rift with my father, so I agreed. Diane entered our lives after my mother passed away and she supported my father, but her presence felt like a constant shadow for my sister and me.
Her comments were never open, but they cut deep. Do you want seconds? “She said quietly at dinner. Or brave outfits. The courage from you. These small comments continued to me throughout my childhood. I tried to tell my dad, but he always asked her to give him a chance. Finally, I tried it.
Instead, I wrote. There was a little pink diary that kept me uncertainty, dreams and heartache. It was my safe space and my secret friend in a difficult year.
Finally I pulled away, chased the university and healed through time and treatment. I created both physical and emotional distances. When I was engaged, I felt so strong that I was close to Diane for a day. However, this day turned out to be something I never imagined.
The morning of the wedding was beautiful. My sister Rachel helped me with my dress. You look like mom, she whispered. My father came in and shed tears. “You’re good,” he said quietly.
Diane asked him once more if he would respect the day.
She made a promise,” he said. Only one day
The ceremony was perfect. The golden sunset lit up in the sky, and Ethans’ vows made me say. Everything felt cheerful at reception until they spoke.
Rachel gave an emotional toast. My best friend made everyone laugh and shed tears. Diane then stood up. I’ll freeze it. She was not asked to speak.
The crowd said he smiled at the crowd. I saw how she grew from a little girl to this beautiful woman.
She reached into her handbag and pulled out something I had never seen in years.
My childhood diary.
pink. It frayed on the edge. The castle was broken.
I thought it was cute to share some of her early thoughts,” she said simply.
I could feel how the room looked.
“I hate how my thighs look in the gym,” she reads. Everyone would think I hate it.
There were some unpleasant laughs.
I think Ethan likes Jessica. Who will see me? She continued.
Ethan took my hand next to me and pushed me. It wasn’t a role to refer to Ethan, which was different from middle school. The violation has already been completed.
»I practiced kissing my hands again. â” she read with a laugh. I probably won’t give you a real kiss.
“Stay,” I said.
She took a break and looked surprised. Oh, come on, it’s just a childhood. It’s cute
“No, I said, it was private. It shouldn’t be shared.
Ethan spoke next to me. It was cruel. There is nothing sweet to share the uncertainty of laughter.
The room was silent. My dad was slow. He went to Diane and reached out. Please give me a diary.
Is Johnny really? She laughed.
“Now he said again.
She reluctantly. That’s not okay, my dad said quietly. We did
Diane’s face has changed. »Do you choose you through me?
“No,” he replied. I finally choose my daughter.
She went shortly afterwards and I felt like I had seen it for the first time in years.
Then, as the night settled, Dad approached me. I failed you,” he said quietly. However, I am filing for divorce. I can no longer be silent.
I took his hand. It’s never too late to do the right thing.
A few weeks later, Ethan and I returned from our honeymoon. Sitting on our veranda was a package from my dad. Inside was a leather diary and notes:
