Guess What, Hubby? I'm Your Stepmom Now!

On Christmas Eve, my father got the man I had secretly loved for ten years drunk and sent him to my bed.

When I woke up the next morning, Roy pulled away from my attempt at a good-morning kiss. His voice was cold and distant as he agreed to marry me.

After the wedding, Roy wasted no time submitting a transfer request. He took an overseas post and left. He did not return for five years.

I gave birth to our daughter, Eve, alone and waited for him to come back home.

When I heard that Roy had finally applied to return to a domestic position, I was overjoyed. I spent days preparing, imagining our first reunion as husband and wife. But even when the clock struck midnight, he still hadn't come home.

Our daughter, ever so thoughtful, placed her most treasured possession—a photograph of Roy—into my hands.

"Don't cry, Mommy," she said softly. "Look, Daddy's right here."

I tried to convince myself that his absence was due to a delayed flight. But later that night, while watching the news, I saw him.

He was on a crowded city street, holding a young girl in his arms. Beside him stood a woman, her smile soft and warm. Facing the camera, Roy said, "Being with them is my greatest wish."

At that moment, something inside me broke.

I wrote up the divorce papers, packed our things, and planned to take Eve to change her identity. I didn't want him anymore.

The day before we left, a man I had never met came to see me. He was Roy's father.

"You could call me Dad," he said, a faint smile playing on his lips. "But I'd rather you call me Ryan."

I told him everything about the past five years—how I had waited, how I had hoped. When I finished, he laughed softly, an unusual warmth in his voice.

"If it was just business," he said, "perhaps your father should have tied a bow around me and sent me to your bed instead. But I hold my liquor well—if I ever end up wrapped in a bow, you can be sure it's by choice."

"Mommy, I don't want to go to school."

Eve's dress was wrinkled when she came home, and her hair was a little messy.

I immediately knelt down and held her in my arms, asking what was wrong.

"The other kids said I don't have a dad... that I'm a child nobody wants."

Her eyes were red from crying as she curled up against me. My heart ached for her.

"Didn't Daddy promise to attend Family Day at school today?"

At the mention of her father, Eve's tears fell even harder.

"He came... but he brought Linda with him. He wouldn't let me call him 'Dad.' Linda said he's her dad. Mommy, does Dad not want me because I'm not a good girl?"

I held her tighter.

I had thought when Roy said he would go to school today, it was to attend Family Day with our daughter.

I never imagined he would show up only to enroll Linda, the daughter of his deceased best friend.

I wanted to comfort Eve, but the memory of Roy's cold indifference made the words stick in my throat.

I regretted everything.

Louis had been Roy's best friend for years, but five years ago, Louis died of an illness, leaving behind his wife, Sammy, and their newborn daughter, Linda.

When Roy learned the news, he immediately requested a transfer overseas. He told me, "Life is too hard for a woman raising a one-month-old baby alone. They need a man around."

But he forgot that we had only just gotten married. For five years, I raised our daughter alone.

I walked into the hospital by myself. I signed the birth papers by myself. Even naming Eve took a month of urging before he finally replied with a short email.

I thought five years would be enough for him to fulfill whatever responsibility he felt toward Louis' widow.

I waited five years for him to come back.

But he didn't return for us—he came back because Sammy said, "I want to see the city you live in."

He gave up a promising overseas career, dissolved his company, and brought them back to settle down.

He even enrolled Linda in Eve's school himself. To prevent Linda from being bullied, he refused to let his own daughter call him 'Dad' in public.

I looked at the pretty dress Eve had picked out just to welcome her father. Last night, she had been too excited to sleep. This morning, she clung to me, shyly asking, "Mommy, do I look pretty today? Will Daddy like me?"

And now, here she was, disheveled and heartbroken.

I closed my eyes, trying to hold back the pain swelling inside me.

"I'm sorry, Eve. It's not your fault. It's mine. Next time, I'll attend Family Day with you."

Exhausted from crying, Eve slowly fell asleep in my arms, still clutching a five-year-old photo of Roy.

My heart felt like it was being pierced by needles.

If I hadn't been so naive five years ago, maybe Eve wouldn't have to suffer like this now.