A Stepmother Marchen Mga Nobela at Kwento

“I… I can’t do this. You can’t force me to marry someone like that.” My stepmother’s eyes flashed with impatience. “Force you?” she echoed, her voice rising slightly. “You think we’re forcing you? You have one week to find a man of your choice. After that, you’ll marry the man we choose.” She let out a dry laugh, as though my protest was utterly foolish. “I won’t do it!” I finally found my voice, a surge of desperation rising up in my chest. “I can’t marry a stranger. I can’t—”

The chairman stared at his grandson for a while. The reason why Callum did not want to marry again was that he had a stepmother who neglected him. The chairman was aware of Callum’s grudges but there was nothing he could do but to keep those two away from each other. It was his fault that Callum was like that, but still, he wanted him to know that not everyone was the same. Because he wanted him to experience love, he forced him to get married with the excuse of producing an heir. He thought that he did the right thing, but he realized that Callum did not love his wife. He respected and took care of her, but never loved her.

Today was my father's wedding day. When I got off the plane in my princess dress, the first person I saw was a charismatic woman who stood out from the crowd. It was Brenda Sanders, who would soon be my stepmother. My father had chosen not to remarry all these years because of me. I was very happy for him when he finally met someone he liked. Everyone said that she was a renowned sculptor. Her work was beautiful and gentle, just like how she looked.

“You have two choices, Emma marry Damien Blackwood… or walk out of this house with nothing.” Emma stared at Vivian in disbelief. Her ears rang as if the world around her had suddenly fallen silent. “…What?” Vivian folded her arms, her expression as cold as stone. “You heard me.” Emma looked from her stepmother to Sophia, hoping one of them would laugh and admit it was a cruel joke. Neither did. Sophia sat comfortably on the sofa, scrolling through her phone as though they weren’t discussing another person’s future.

Sophie was in high spirits, as usual. “So,” Sophie said with a mischievous grin as they reached the lecture hall. “Tell me more about your stepfather. After seeing him the other day, I have been wanting to ask about him. He is so hot. Like, seriously. If he wasn’t your stepdad, I might be interested. That silver-fox thing he has going on? Total daddy material.” Monalisa’s cheeks burned. “Sophie!” “What? I’m just saying. He’s tall, muscular, that commanding presence… total fantasy material.”

“But I’m glad I’m here. I think it’s time for us to talk.” “Ummmm. One second. I ummm have to… One second.” When she tried to shut the door, I slammed my hand against the door, keeping her from shutting it as I stepped inside. A whimper came from my right, but I didn't look. I couldn't. I knew exactly what I would see, and I couldn't face her. I wasn't ready to face my past in that way. With my eyes glued icily to my mother's, I took a step closer to her, taking great joy in the way she immediately moved back away from me.

I clung to those values because I thought they were enough to keep us together, to keep us safe. But when his car slid off the icy road, and his heart stopped beating, it all unraveled. My stepmother, Victoria, wore black to his funeral, but there was no hint of grief in her eyes. While I cried for the last of my kin, she stood beside me, gazing down at me as though I were some pest she could not wait to be free of. I did not realize then how true that was.

The part that is left of her. I could not do it. "Get up, get up,” my stepmother spat, grabbing on my arm and pulling onto the soles. “Just quit being a scene.". She muttered I trailed after her, the fingernails of her talon-like fingers digging deep into my arm as she dragged me away from the crowd. When they were out of earshot, she wheeled on me, her eyes blazing bright. "Do you think this is funny?" she returned. "Crying like that in front of everybody, making me look like a bad mother?"

I was surprised, and it took me a few seconds to be able to reply. "We're going to be stepsiblings, Evan," I typed. "It's best if we keep away from each other now." "Your mom isn't the only reason you're not going back, right?" Grandma said, arching an eyebrow. Then, she sighed. "You and your mother, honestly. I can't tell who is more stubborn. Your mother loved this man so much that it almost killed her when he married someone else, and years later, even knowing he was still married, she chose to fight for him because she still loved him. Don't tell me you're going to live the same as your moth-er, Anita."

Because my father saw me, I approached him. "You visited for, how long?" He asked. "Maybe forever," I said, and he grinned faintly. "I want to know my stepmother, can it be as good as my mother." "You don't need mom, but you need it—" His talk suddenly stopped when he looked at the stairs; a beautiful woman, brown-haired, bumpy, and very elegant, walking towards us with a wide smile. Was she my stepmother? "You want to know my wife, this is Beatrice, you can call her Mom"