When my husband told me his cousin Daisy and her son Patrick needed a place to stay for a couple of weeks, I didn’t think twice. He said they’d fallen on hard times and just needed a little help to get back on their feet.
“Of course,” I said. “Family is family.”
I mean, really? Before Derek and I were married, I had financial issues, too. It had been a struggle and a half to get myself out of my study loan debt, among other things.
So, what would it say about me if I didn’t reach out to help my husband’s family?
That was a month ago. If only I knew how deeply those words would cut.
When Daisy and Patrick arrived, everything seemed fine. At first, Daisy was polite but reserved, and I chalked it up to shyness. She wasn’t particularly warm toward me, but toward Derek?
She was a different person altogether!
She was animated, laughing at his jokes and chatting like they’d known each other forever. I ignored the faint flicker of discomfort that rose in my chest.
They were family.
Right?
Patrick, though, was another story. At first, he was just an energetic eight-year-old. But within days, he turned into a whirlwind of chaos.
Crumbs littered the living room floor, sticky handprints appeared on the walls, and his toys became landmines scattered across the house.
The worst part?
He didn’t listen. I once asked him to clean up after himself, and he threw a tantrum, flinging cushions from the couch.
“You’re not my mother!” he shrieked. “I don’t listen to you!”
I finally had enough one evening.
“Patrick,” I said firmly, abandoning the light and caring attitude I wanted to initially use with him. “I need you to understand that you’re a guest here. Act properly. Behave. This isn’t your home.”
His reply made my stomach drop.
“No, Rebecca,” he said, spitting out my name. “My mom told me this is our home now.”
I stared at him, unsure if I’d heard him right.
Excuse me?
It had to be a misunderstanding, I told myself. Kids misinterpret things all the time, and Daisy probably said it to make the move easier on him.
But his words stayed with me, a tiny splinter in the back of my mind.
The real unraveling began a week later, during a casual lunch with Derek’s sister, Ashley. She’d come by to invite us to a family dinner, and the three of us were sitting outside, enjoying lemonade and plates of spaghetti. Daisy had taken Patrick for ice cream and a walk to the park.
At some point, she turned to me with a warm smile.
“You’re a saint for letting them stay here, Becca,” she said.
I waved her off with a laugh, spearing a meatball with my fork.
“Stop it! It’s your family. How could I turn your cousin and nephew away? Why wouldn’t I let them stay?”
Her fork froze midway to her mouth.
“Wait. So he didn’t tell you?” she gasped.
My chest tightened.
“Tell me what? Ash? Derek?”
Ashley’s eyes darted to Derek, who was suddenly very interested in his glass of lemonade.
“Oh, my god. Becca…” she whispered. “You really don’t know…”
“Know what?” My voice wavered as the splinter in my mind turned into a dagger.
Ashley’s face paled.
“Daisy isn’t our cousin, Becca,” she blurted out. “She’s Derek’s ex-girlfriend. And Patrick? He’s their son.”
The room tilted.
I had to grip hard onto the edge of the table to steady myself, my pulse pounding in my ears.
“What are you talking about?” I croaked, though deep down, I already knew the answer.
Ashley looked stricken.
“I thought you knew, Becca! Derek told the whole family he’d explained everything to you. Our mother told him that he had to tell you the truth before you got married. Daisy was raising Patrick with her then-boyfriend, but Derek was sending child support to them!”
She sighed deeply, remorse filling her lungs. I knew she hated being the one to tell me.
Then, her gaze snapped to him.
“You said you told her!”
Derek didn’t meet my eyes. My stomach churned as every odd moment from the past month clicked into place.
Daisy’s reserved demeanor around me, her easy laughter with Derek, Patrick’s defiant declaration. I felt like the biggest fool on earth.
I stood abruptly, my chair scraping against the floor.
“You have to get back to work. I have to clean up here and log onto a meeting. I will be at your office in two hours. And you’re going to explain everything.”
Derek’s face clouded and then cleared. He nodded.
“Fine. I’ll push my meetings, Becs,” he said, leaving.
“I’m so sorry, Rebecca,” Ashley said, picking up the empty plates. “I truly thought that Derek was a man of his word.”
“It’s not your fault, babe,” I said. “This is on him. But I need you to know that whatever happens next has nothing to do with you. Okay?”
She nodded meekly and began to wash the dishes.
At Derek’s office, I waited in a small conference room, my heart still hammering. When Derek walked in, he looked like he’d aged ten years in the span of an hour.
He sat across from me, his shoulders slumped.
“Start talking,” I demanded.
He exhaled shakily, avoiding my gaze.
“Yes, Daisy is my ex-girlfriend,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “And Patrick is my son.”
The words hit like a wrecking ball.
“You lied to me,” I said. “You looked me in the eyes and lied. You allowed me to set up the guest room, to turn my home office into a makeshift kid’s room? You watched all of that, and you didn’t think about telling me the truth?”
“I didn’t know how to tell you, Becca,” he stammered. “It was years before we met. Daisy and I broke up before Patrick was born. I’ve always supported him financially, but I kept my distance. When Daisy reached out, she said that she needed help. And I felt obligated. That’s my son, after all.”
“Obligated?” I spat. “You lied to me about who they are! You let me believe they were your cousin and nephew! Do you have any idea how humiliating this is?”
“I know,” he said, tears pooling in his eyes. “But I was scared. I thought it would push you away. I thought it would be easier this way. I’m sorry. I’ll tell Daisy and Patrick to leave tonight if that’s what you want.”
His desperation might’ve softened me on any other day, but right then, it only made me angrier.
“They should’ve left the moment this charade started. You’ve disrespected me in every way possible.”
He didn’t try to argue.
“You’re right,” he whispered. “I’ll fix this.”
The next few days were excruciating.
Daisy avoided me entirely, and Patrick kept to his room, his usual chaos replaced by an eerie silence.
Derek threw himself into damage control, arranging for Daisy and Patrick to move into a rental while simultaneously begging for my forgiveness.
I confronted Daisy once, though.
“Why would you go along with this lie?” I demanded, watching her make her way through my kitchen while she made a sandwich.
She flushed with shame, almost dropping the jar of mayonnaise.
“I didn’t want to lie,” she said softly. “But Derek thought it would be easier. I’m sorry. I never wanted to cause problems.”
Her apology didn’t heal the wound, but it clarified one thing for me:
This disaster was Derek’s making.
Once Daisy and Patrick moved out, the house felt unbearably quiet.
Derek tried everything to make amends. He left me notes apologizing for his lies, attended therapy on his own, and took on every household chore without being asked.
His remorse was evident, but my trust in him had been shattered.
It took weeks of reflection, long conversations with my best friend, Sharon, and more than a few sleepless nights before I made my decision.
“Just know what you’re getting into, Becca,” Sharon said, stirring her matcha latte. “I’ll support you, of course, but please, think about it from all sides.”
One evening, I called Derek into the living room. He sat across from me, his face tense with anticipation.
“I’m not ready to forgive you, D,” I began, my voice steady. “But I’m willing to try.”
Relief washed over his face, but I held up a hand.
“This is your last chance, Derek,” I said firmly. “No more lies. No more half-truths. If you want this marriage to survive, you have to earn back my trust.”
“I will,” he said, his voice thick and heavy. “I promise.”
Rebuilding our marriage won’t be easy, and part of me wonders if it’s even possible.
But for now, I’m taking it one day at a time. I’ve learned one thing through all of this. Trust isn’t something you can take for granted.
It’s fragile.
As for Derek? He’s on thin ice. And if he thinks I’ll ignore the warning signs ever again, he’s dead wrong.
So now, I have to figure out how to be a stepmother.
Could Versailles have one – or even several walking its hallowed halls or
roaming its famed Hall of Mirrors? 2 December 2018 (Universities with fossil gas investments) Prestigious universities have large investments in fossil gas
corporations. The World Health Organization (WHO) has proposed a code of conduct for corporations creating AI-generated fashions,
stating that they must be open and transparent about their use and
any modifications made to the photographs. Together with several other film stars, Marilyn was offered to
the Queen, who complimented the well-known actress on her curtsy.
The pressure was magnified by Marilyn’s discovery of Miller’s private
notebook, an event that has been recounted so many
occasions that its true impact on Marilyn is troublesome to completely
grasp. Marilyn severed her personal and enterprise relations with associate Milton Greene.
In the notebook, Miller had recorded some unflattering private thoughts about Marilyn and his relationship along with her.
Upon their return to the States, Marilyn and Miller retreated to the privacy
of a rented cottage in Amagansett, Long Island.
Marilyn Monroe achieved great fame for her films, and appeared to
have found happiness with her third husband, playwright Arthur Miller.
But Marilyn’s unpleasant habits and her growing dependency on Arthur Miller to see her
by means of every day strained their marriage considerably.
In Greek myth, Menoeceus sacrificed his life to save
his native Thebes. A Greek citizen traditionally served
a term within the military (‘help insure the safety of the citizenry’) before settling
down to civilian life. Our condition could be in comparison with a festival:
The well-known comparability of life to an Olympic
festival originated with the fourth- century BC philosopher Heraclides of Pontus, who
distinguished among three lessons of individuals: the athletes, who equate with the phase of humanity dedicated to the pursuit of glory and public honours; the merchants, who signify people devoted to making money and acquiring wealth;
and the spectators, who stand for the philosophers, motivated purely by curiosity and a wish to see and be taught as a lot as they can of the
world around them. On Cynicism: Cynicism was a school of philosophy based
in the fourth century BC by Diogenes of Sinope.
Diogenes: That is Diogenes the Cynic. I 5; the Pyrrhonists and Academics of Epictetus’
day were Sceptic philosophers who argued that it was not possible for anything to be
known with absolute certainty. ’. It could also be that Romans by this time were so corrupted by materialism that no one who lived as merely and frugally as Epictetus could be thought of a hit at something, philosophy included; by this time they had the example of Seneca earlier
than them – both fabulously rich and the first philosopher of his
day.
“You make me giddy.” And then, turning to the rose-tree, she went on, “What have you been doing right here? “You can draw water out of a water-well,” mentioned the Hatter; “so I ought to think you possibly can draw treacle out of a treacle-nicely-eh,
silly? Yes all girls that assume Justin Bieber
is hot are ALL blind. Yeah, nicely I feel routines, if you find yourself so repetition is
routines and it’s just so vital. The Dormouse had closed its eyes by this time, and
was going off right into a doze; however, on being pinched by the Hatter, it woke up
once more with a bit shriek, and went on: “-that begins with an M, similar to mouse-traps, and the moon, and reminiscence, and muchness-you already know you say issues are “much of a
muchness”-did you ever see such a factor as a drawing of a muchness? You realize the song, perhaps? “I’m afraid I don’t know one,” mentioned Alice, reasonably alarmed at the proposal. ” said Alice, who all the time took
an important interest in questions of eating and drinking.
Morgan considered the squat bulldog of a man who stood earlier
than him and his buddies, blocking the elevator.
Seven flung down his brush, and had just begun “Well, of all of the unjust issues-” when his eye chanced to fall upon Alice, as she stood watching them,
and he checked himself all of the sudden: the others regarded spherical additionally,
and all of them bowed low.