My name is Mia. I’m a 16-year-old girl living in a typical suburban house with my dad and my stepmom, Trudy. Trudy has been part of my life for the past two years, and let me tell you, she has perfected the whole “evil stepmother” routine to a T.
My dad mostly stays out of the way as much as possible. He’s the kind of guy who lives by the motto, “happy wife, happy life.” Except the catch here is that Trudy’s rarely ever happy. She’s one of those people who thinks the whole world owes her something and should cater to her every wish.
“You’d better get me something special this year, Mia,” she declared one morning as I was in the kitchen chopping fruit for my smoothie. “A dishwasher would be nice. After all, I’ve done a lot for you.”
Even as the words left my mouth, I already knew where this was headed.
Excuses? I couldn’t believe it. This woman seriously expected me to drain all my savings for an appliance just because she thought she “deserved” it. Where’s my fairy godmother when I need her?
So, all the money I’d saved for my prom dress? It came from the babysitting jobs I picked up over the last year.
And me? I was quietly working in the background—polishing mirrors, setting up the drink stations, and doing my best to avoid eye contact with anyone.
Once the guests showed up, Trudy morphed into a celebrity version of herself. She floated around, flashing fake smiles, soaking in compliments like she was some kind of A-lister at a red carpet event.
So, I did what I was told, floating around the party like some invisible Cinderella. I kept checking the clock, counting down the minutes until it was time to blow out the candles and the day would finally come to an end.
“I’m starving, Dad,” I replied, shoveling another forkful into my mouth. “Besides, everyone else is eating, too.”
Everyone belted out “Happy Birthday” as loud as they could, and Trudy blew out the candles with a dramatic flair. But as the party started to wind down, she tapped her wine glass with a fork and gave me one of her infamous looks.
She had actually said it. Out loud. In front of all her friends.
“Trudy, I told you, I didn’t have enough money for a dishwasher. I’ve been saving for my prom.”
I could have lost it right then. But instead, I swallowed my pride and nodded my head.
By the time I was done, the party had ended, and Trudy’s friends were long gone. I dragged myself upstairs to bed, completely drained, both emotionally and physically.
The entire kitchen was a mess.
Still groggy from sleep, I blinked in confusion, trying to process what I was seeing.
“But everything was fine last night when I went to bed. What happened here?”
“I did!” she admitted. “I didn’t know where else to put it, and the caterers didn’t take it with them. But I used some drain cleaner afterward.”
As she continued to freak out, I felt a small, satisfied smile creeping onto my face. But I kept quiet and didn’t say a word.
“You can’t be serious, David!” Trudy snapped. “You expect me to pay for the new kitchen tiles, but you’re just going to spoil Mia?”
Do you think her new attitude will last?
If you were in my shoes, what would you have done?
