Daughter’s Regret After Choosing Stepmother Over Me

The year I became disabled, my own daughter Emily brought home the ex-husband who had abandoned me years earlier. With his new wife beside him, they strutted into my house as though they owned it. The three of them stared me down and announced a new house rule. "From now on, everyone pays their own eldercare costs." A caregiver had just changed my adult diaper. Emily pulled out a calculator and demanded I pay $150 on the spot for the nursing fee. I looked at the woman lounging on my couch and eating imported cherries, then forced myself to speak. "She lives here too. Why doesn't she have to pay?" Emily clenched her jaw. "Seriously! You think you can compare yourself to Aunt Camilla?" "You made me wear hand-me-downs and live on plain boiled vegetables. Life with you was cheap and miserable!" "Camilla takes me shopping for designer brands and out to fancy dinners. She gives me real love and freedom! They get a pass because I love them. You don't." I stared at the home cardiac monitor beside my bed. I had emptied my savings to buy it when she was sick. "You've always used my illness as an excuse to control me, to torment me. We share nothing but blood. Whatever feelings we had are long gone, and I have no obligation to take care of you for free." Day after day, they schemed and ground me down, until I finally died a miserable death in that hospital bed. Then I opened my eyes and found myself back, years in the past. It was the day I first discovered that my ex-husband Adam had been secretly taking Emily to Disneyland. Chapter 1 When I opened my eyes, the soft glow of the evening sun was spilling across my face through the window. A familiar room. A familiar scene. Instinctively, I lifted my arms and moved my legs. All four limbs responded freely, without a trace of the stiffness or pain of paralysis. I sat frozen for a long time. When it finally sank in, my fingertips trembled with excitement. I had really come back. Before I could shake off the dizzy shock, I heard the familiar chirp of a car locking downstairs. The sound snapped me out of my thoughts. I stood by the window and looked down without thinking. The scene below was exactly as I remembered. Adam's car was parked at the building entrance. He stood beside it, a stylishly dressed woman pressed close to his side. Emily stood between them. All three wore matching Mickey-ear headbands. They laughed together, as close as any picture-perfect family. It all came back to me instantly. In my previous life, Adam had gone behind my back on this very day and taken our daughter to Disneyland. Meanwhile, I had been at the hospital picking up the follow-up results for Emily's chronic autoimmune disorder. Before I left, the doctor stressed repeatedly that the patient must avoid strenuous activity and overexertion. Her diet had to remain bland, with all greasy and sugary foods strictly off-limits. If the condition relapsed, it would cause permanent organ damage. They looked up and saw me at the window. The smile on Emily's face froze instantly. In my last life, panic would already have had me shaking. I would have raced downstairs and confronted them for gambling with Emily's life. Now, though, I felt unnaturally calm. I turned and walked downstairs, step by step. If they themselves didn't care, there was no reason for me to take the blame for nothing. The moment I reached them, Adam folded his arms and looked me up and down with a sneer. "So I took the kid to a theme park for half a day. Is that really a crime? Do you have to watch us like we're criminals?" "She just finished her exams and wants to have a little fun. You have to control even that? You're such a control freak." His voice was loud enough that passersby slowed their steps. Before I could speak, Camilla gently took Emily's hand. She patted the back of it softly, though her eyes kept drifting toward the neighbors who had stopped to watch. "Sweetie, your mom is just worried about you. She's always been like this, too anxious, too tense. She can't help it." "Don't be scared. That's just the way she is. Let's be good and listen to your mom, go along with her so she doesn't get upset, okay?" Emily said nothing. But the disgust in her eyes grew. Encouraged, Adam pushed further. He gave a contemptuous laugh. "Let's be honest. Your own life is miserable, so you torment the kid just to feel important!" "You force her to eat that tasteless garbage every day and call it a 'healthy diet.' When I got sick as a kid, my mom loaded me up with bacon and eggs, and I bounced right back! You're just being dramatic and ridiculous!" "Look at her! You've starved her down to skin and bones." The neighbors passing by kept glancing over, whispering among themselves. I looked at Emily. Her height wasn't the tallest among her peers, but she was above average for her class. Her build was proportionate. She looked nothing like the gaunt, malnourished child he described. In my previous life, after he said those words, I had lost my temper and argued with them. The fight escalated until I lost control and was taken to the police station. Emily insisted I had started it. After three days in a holding cell, the whispers and pointed looks from others never stopped. After I became paralyzed, they even used that record to claim I had always been mentally unstable. Emily was granted full authority to handle the property transfer on my behalf. They tricked me into signing the papers, and all three moved into my house as if they owned the place. This time, I would not make the same mistake. Snapping back to the present, I pulled the follow-up report from my pocket, my voice calm. "You don't get to make claims about her health just because it suits you." "The test results came back today. They clearly show that her condition is stable and all her numbers are improving." "I've been monitoring her diet and making sure she gets her checkups. She is nothing like the malnourished child you're describing." I thought that with solid proof in hand, Emily would at least acknowledge my effort. But she immediately spoke up, right there in front of everyone, rushing to back up her father. "Mom, I know my own body better than anyone." "Dad's right. You're just being overdramatic. You control everything I eat and do, and I have zero freedom." A chill shot through my chest. So I had been wrong all along. It wasn't after I became paralyzed that she started resenting me. Even this far back, she had already written me off as her mother. The child I had poured my heart and soul into raising had been an ungrateful wretch from the very beginning. I tucked the report away, my tone flat. "Fine. I won't meddle anymore. If you want to take her out, just come pick her up. No need to sneak around." The sneer on Adam's face froze, replaced by shock. The woman's gentle expression faltered. Emily stared at me, eyes wide with disbelief. Then a smug little smile tugged at her lips. I ignored them all and went straight back upstairs. Chapter 2 I was tidying up the clutter around the house. Emily had grabbed her pajamas without a word and gone straight into the bathroom to shower. When I got to her room, the diary sitting on the corner of her desk suddenly slid off and hit the floor with a thud. I bent down to pick it up, and my fingers accidentally flipped it open. Under today's date, in her own handwriting: "Dad and my new mom took me to Disneyland today. I was so happy. My new mom is so gentle. She never yells at me or tells me what I can eat. The two of them together feel like a real family. I wish I could be with them forever." My fingers stiffened slightly. I flipped back through the pages. "September 14. My new mom took me to a fancy mall and bought me expensive skincare products. Whatever I want, she gets it for me. We have so much to talk about. Not like my mom, who just nags me every day. Boring and rigid." Reading those words, I suddenly remembered that period. My hands had been rough and cracked from washing vegetables and cooking, covered in fine lines. They had been hurting badly that day. I noticed a brand-new tube of hand cream on her nightstand and squeezed out a small amount. It was the most trivial thing. But when she found out, she screamed at me, demanding to know why I was touching her personal belongings. Confused, I had asked where the hand cream came from. Her eyes darted away, and she mumbled that a friend had given it to her. It was never from a friend. It was from her new mom. That was why she had treated it like a treasure and refused to let me touch it. I swallowed the cold feeling rising inside me and kept flipping. I reached her graduation day. "June 20th. Graduation ceremony today. Dad and my new mom came to school to see me in secret. I sent Mom away on purpose and went to McDonald's with Dad and Aunt Camilla. We walked around the food trucks and ate tons of fried food. It was so good." "I really regret not going with Dad when he left. I should have found him and left with him." "I can't wait to move in with Dad and my new mom and finally break free from Mom. I don't want to stay in this house for one more second..." Page after page. Dense lines of handwriting, all filled with contempt for me. Every sacrifice I had made to protect her was, in her words, nothing but suffocation and misery. The sound of running water from the bathroom continued. My heart grew still. At dinner, I covered the table with food. I cooked all the dishes I used to love eating. Normal amounts of oil and salt, plus a plate of golden, glistening meatballs. Greasy and rich, the kind of food I used to fight to keep away from Emily. Emily sat at the table, her eyes locked on the meatballs. I looked at her and lowered my voice. "Go ahead. Eat as much as you want. From now on, tell me what you want, and I'll make it." Her eyes lit up instantly, and she started shoveling food into her mouth. I watched in silence. Until the plate of meatballs was nearly empty. Full and content, Emily leaned back in her chair. Then she looked up at me, her tone matter-of-fact. "Mom, buy me the latest iPhone and iPad. All my classmates have upgraded already. I'm the only one still using the old ones." In my previous life, I had always felt guilty that she had been sick since childhood, that I owed her too much. Whatever she wanted, I would do my best to get it, even at my own expense. To keep her condition stable, I had taken night classes in nutrition. I had even paid for a private dietitian. The bland meals she mocked had all been designed for her by that dietitian. I had poured every dollar and every ounce of energy into Emily. Meanwhile, I barely scraped by. I never bought myself new clothes. I wore the same set of pajamas for over a decade. When she ate, I would claim I wasn't hungry. After she finished and went back to her room, I would quietly eat whatever she had left behind. All I wanted was for her to focus on getting better and to grow up without worry. I never let her see how tight things were. Yet everything I gave only taught her to take it all for granted. This time, I would not suffer in silence. I looked up and spoke slowly. "Over the years, your medical bills, nutrition costs, and tuition have added up to nearly one hundred eighty thousand dollars." "Almost every cent of our savings has gone to you. There is no spare money to buy you a brand-new phone and tablet that cost more than three thousand dollars." "Besides, the phone you're using now was just replaced last year. Why do you need another new one?" The moment I finished, her face darkened. "You're lying! You just don't want to spend money on me!" "Everyone in my class got new phones after graduation, and I'm the only one stuck with this old thing!" "Last year's model is already outdated. It's embarrassing to even pull it out! Other parents are happy to give their kids the best, but all you do is pinch pennies!" The more she talked, the angrier she became, her face twisting with resentment as she forgot every sacrifice I had made. I silently watched her selfish, vicious display. I watched her selfish, cutting display in silence. There was nothing more to say. When she saw I wouldn't budge, she stopped arguing. She clenched her jaw, grabbed her bag from the couch, and the next second, the door slammed shut with a bang. She stormed out. Chapter 3 From that day on, she went out with Adam and Camilla constantly. I turned a blind eye. Until one night, when I was scrolling through her Instagram. It was a group photo taken at the top of a mountain. In the picture, she stood squarely in the middle, Adam on her left, the stylishly dressed stepmother on her right. The three of them pressed close together, beaming. As intimate as a real family of three. The caption read: Best trip ever with Dad and my new mom. My favorite people. The most popular girl in her class jumped into the comments. "Wow, I've seen that bag your new mom is carrying. It's sixty thousand dollars at the boutique!" Emily replied at once. "And that isn't even her most expensive one." My heart dropped, and my first instinct was the familiar dread. Emily's condition strictly prohibited altitude, exertion, and intense physical activity. Hiking was an absolute high-risk activity. Staring at that warm family photo, memories from my past life surged up. I remembered how I had once thought that childhood only happens once. I had saved up for months, wanting to take her to get a mother-daughter portrait taken as a keepsake. She didn't even think about it before turning me down flat. She was ashamed that years of hard work had left me with lines on my face and rough, cracked hands. "Mom, forget it. No matter what you wear, you'd still look cheap in the pictures. Posting them would just embarrass me." Before every parent-teacher conference, she would lay down the rules in advance. She told me not to approach her or speak to her, to pretend we did not know each other. I used to tell myself it was just a teenager caring too much about appearances. I made excuses for her again and again. But now I finally saw the truth. She wasn't shy or reserved. She was simply ashamed of me, and she gave all her warmth to the people who fed her vanity. Her next follow-up appointment came around quickly. I had booked a specialist a week ahead of time. I reminded her over and over to keep the morning free and be ready to leave for the hospital. She had agreed without hesitation. But the next morning, she was gone before I woke up. I called her over a dozen times. Every call went unanswered. I sat quietly at home and waited the entire day, from dawn until dark. Night had fallen by the time the hospital called. The nurse asked whether I still planned to keep the appointment because the doctor was about to leave. I was silent for a few seconds, then reluctantly asked the nurse to cancel. The moment I hung up, Emily's call came through. There was noise on her end, but her tone was as entitled as ever. "It's pouring outside, and I forgot my umbrella. Get over here and bring me one, now." I looked out the window. Wind drove the rain against the glass in vicious sheets. In my previous life, on a night just like this, she had been stranded at school without an umbrella. Frantic, I had immediately hailed a cab to bring her one. The roads were slick with rain, and the driver couldn't brake in time. There was a collision. I was rushed to the hospital, diagnosed with a concussion. The doctor insisted that I stay for observation to prevent lasting damage. But all I could think about was Emily. After years of crushing medical expenses, money was already tight. The thought of the hospital bill made me insist on a quick discharge against medical advice. That decision caused the sudden paralysis that would confine me to a bed years later. When I finally reached the school, breathless, Emily did not show a trace of concern. When she learned that I had been in an accident, all I saw on her face was annoyance. She blamed me for taking too long and making her wait two hours in the security office. Back then, I had been too consumed with earning money for Emily's treatment to see anything clearly. Looking back now, the signs had been there all along. At the memory, I quietly clenched my fist. "Buy one at the convenience store nearby. You don't need me to come out." Emily turned vicious the instant she heard my answer. "No! I want you to bring it! Get over here, now!" The autumn rain was cold enough to cut to the bone. I stared through the curtain of rain as lightning split the sky. For one brief moment, my resolve wavered. I grabbed an umbrella, pushed through the door, and plunged into the downpour. The rain came down so hard that an ordinary umbrella was useless against the wind. Within minutes, my pants were soaked through and clinging to my skin. My knees took the worst of it, each blast of icy water sending a knife of pain through the joints. When Emily first became ill, she spiked fevers night after night. For more than two weeks, I barely left her bedside. I changed the cool cloth on her forehead, gave her medicine, and soothed her back to sleep. All those sleepless, freezing nights left me with chronic arthritis. Whenever I got chilled or caught in the rain, my knees ached to the bone. I gritted my teeth through the pain and finally reached the address she had sent me. When I opened the door to the private karaoke room, I was drenched from head to toe, water streaming from my hair. I looked like a drowned rat. The sight inside stopped me cold. Emily was sprawled comfortably across a couch. A group of strangers crowded around her. One look at their clothes and attitude told me they drifted from party to party with no plans and no responsibilities. In my last life, Emily had lived under my watch. She had resented my rules, but she had never dared to run with people like this. She made it through college, found steady work, and stayed on a solid path. Without my restraint in this life, her worst instincts had surfaced frighteningly fast. When Emily saw me soaked to the bone, there was not a flicker of sympathy or guilt. Instead, she lifted her chin proudly and showed off to her friends. "Look. I told you she'd come." "No matter where I am, no matter how late or how far, as long as I say the word, she'll come running and wait on me hand and foot." Chapter 4 After walking home through the storm, I came down with a high fever that night. My knees ached and throbbed, and my limbs were so weak I couldn't lift them. I forced myself through to the next evening, when Emily finally came home. The moment she walked in and saw the empty dining table, her face fell. She stormed to my bedside, grabbed my arm, and yanked me halfway upright. "It's dark already. Where's dinner? You're faking sick to get out of cooking." My throat was so dry it burned, and my breath felt fever-hot. Her rough pull left me choking and coughing for what felt like forever. "Cough... I have a fever. I feel awful. Please, just go buy something." She curled her lip, her eyes full of scorn. "Going out is such a hassle. Aunt Camilla was right about you. You can't stand to see me have it easy." My head was spinning, but I couldn't win against her. I held onto the bed frame, slowly pulled myself up, and staggered into the kitchen. I used every ounce of strength I had to fry a single egg. She picked up a bite, tasted it, and smashed the plate on the floor. "You call this a meal? You're obviously just going through the motions. Aunt Camilla already told me you never really loved me!" I couldn't hold myself up any longer and collapsed onto the couch. I had no strength left to argue about whether I loved her or not. "Call 911. I can barely hold on." She folded her arms and looked down at me. "Exactly! Dodging the question is the same as admitting it." "Fine, I'll call, but first you need to apologize. Say you don't deserve to be a mother. Admit that you've been controlling and abusing me all these years." The fever had blurred my consciousness, and I could only give in. "I was wrong. I controlled you. I abused you..." The second she answered, Emily became a different person. Her voice turned syrupy sweet. She called the other woman "Mommy." After she hung up, she went straight to her room and changed into a pretty outfit. "Not a shred of sincerity." She flung the words over her shoulder and walked out. She never looked back. I was alone in the house. I summoned every last bit of strength to reach my phone and called 911 myself. I was hospitalized for an entire week. Not a single person came to see me. During that time, Emily's college acceptance letter arrived at the house. I had no idea. I only found out when I saw her post online, celebrating with Adam and Camilla at a restaurant. A storm of emotions hit me at once. For all three years of high school, I had paid for private tutors. Worried that boarding school would be too hard on her health, I arranged for her to commute, driving her to and from school every day, rain or shine. In the end, she got into college. She never thanked me, and she did not even invite me to the celebration dinner. When I came home from the hospital, I opened the door to find the place ransacked. Papers and documents were scattered everywhere. In my previous life, she had stolen my signature from her test papers and forged documents to seize my house. This time, I had been prepared. I had hidden every paper that carried my signature long ago. They got nothing. I had barely finished cleaning up when Emily unexpectedly came home. Gone was the usual hostility. This time, she was conspicuously sweet. "Mom, I couldn't have gotten into college without you." She linked her arm through mine in a show of affection, her head tilting awkwardly to one side. I had always been strict with her, and in my previous life, I never had the chance for this kind of closeness, not until the day I died. Seeing her rare gentleness, a tiny flicker of warmth stirred in my chest. Without thinking, I raised my hand to stroke her hair. Then she spoke. "Mom, this enrollment form needs a parent's signature. I couldn't have done it without you. Will you sign it for me?" The moment the words landed, the warmth inside me vanished and I felt as though I had plunged into ice water. Looking at her calculated act of obedience, the last thread of hope in me snapped. She was still playing me for someone else's benefit. I pushed away the hand holding the form and turned my face away. "Get your father to sign it. He's your parent too." "Besides, from now on, he's the one paying for your college. This household is going on a pay-your-own-way policy. All your expenses go through your father."