You Just Can’t Get Through to Him “I’m not doing it! And stop bossing me around! You’re nobody to me!” Daniel slammed his plate into the sink, sending water splashing across the counter. Anna froze for a moment, breath caught. The fifteen-year-old was staring at her with such anger, it was as if she’d personally ruined his life. “I just asked you to help with the dishes,” Anna tried to keep her voice steady. “It’s a normal request.” “My mum never made me wash up! I’m not some girl! Besides, who are you to order me about?” Daniel spun out of the kitchen. A second later, music blared from his room. Anna leaned against the fridge, eyes closed. Just a year ago, everything had seemed so different… Max had come into her life by chance. He was an engineer in a neighbouring department of one of the city’s big construction firms. They kept bumping into each other at meetings. First coffee in the canteen, then dinners after work, long phone calls that spilled past midnight. “I have a son,” Max had admitted on their third date, nervously twisting a napkin. “Daniel’s fifteen. His mum and I divorced two years ago. It’s been hard for him.” “I understand.” Anna had reached across and covered his hand with hers. “It’s always tough for kids when parents split. That’s normal.” “Are you really ready to accept both of us?” Back then, Anna truly believed she was. She was thirty-two, with a failed marriage behind her—no children—and she longed for a real family. Max seemed like the kind of man you could build something lasting with. Six months later he proposed—awkwardly, shyly, slipping a ring into a box of her favourite pastries. Anna had laughed and said yes without hesitation. They had a modest wedding: just both sets of parents, a couple of close friends and a simple restaurant. Daniel sat through the entire thing glued to his phone, never once glancing up at the newlyweds. “He’ll get used to it,” Max leaned in and whispered, catching Anna’s uneasy expression. “Just give it some time.” Anna moved into Max’s spacious three-bed the day after the wedding. The flat was lovely—bright, with a big kitchen and a balcony overlooking the garden. But from her very first steps, Anna felt like a guest in somebody else’s home… Daniel looked through her as if she were a piece of furniture—never meeting her eyes, never acknowledging her. If she entered the room, he’d pop on his headphones. If she tried to talk, he’d mumble a monosyllabic reply, all the while pointedly looking away. For the first two weeks Anna blamed it on adjustment. The boy needed time. It was hard for him to accept that his dad had remarried. It would get better. It didn’t. “Daniel, please don’t eat in your room. We’ll never get rid of the mice.” “Dad always let me.” “Daniel, have you done your homework?” “None of your business.” “Daniel, could you clear up after yourself?” “Do it yourself. Clearly you’ve got nothing else to do.” Anna tried to speak to Max. Tentatively, carefully, treading the fine line between reasonable wife and wicked stepmother. “I think we need some basic house rules,” she said one evening after Daniel had retreated to his bedroom. “No eating in bedrooms, clean up after yourself, homework done by a certain time…” “Anna, he’s struggling.” Max pinched the bridge of his nose. “The divorce, a new person in the house… Let’s not push him.” “I’m not pushing. I just want some order.” “He’s just a child.” “He’s fifteen, Max. Old enough to learn how to wash up.” But Max only sighed and switched on the telly, signalling that the conversation was over. Things only got worse day by day. The first time Anna asked Daniel to help take the rubbish out, he looked at her with outright contempt. “You’re not my mum. Never will be. You have no right to boss me about.” “I’m not bossing you. I’m asking you to help look after the house we all live in.” “This isn’t your house. This is my dad’s. And mine.” Anna tried Max again. He nodded, promised to speak to his son. But nothing changed—if he spoke to Daniel at all, she couldn’t tell. Daniel began staying out until after midnight. No texts, no calls. Anna would lie awake, listening for footsteps in the hall. Max, meanwhile, snored peacefully beside her. “At least ask him to message when he’s going to be late,” Anna pleaded the next morning. “Anything could happen.” “He’s old enough, Anna. We can’t control everything.” “He’s fifteen!” “I was out late at his age.” “Could you at least talk to him? Explain that I’m worried?” Max just shrugged and left for work. Every attempt to set even the smallest boundary sparked a row. Daniel would shout, slam doors, accuse Anna of tearing their family apart. And each time, Max would take his son’s side. “He’s struggling after the divorce,” became a mantra. “You must try to understand.” “And what about me?” Anna snapped at last. “I live in a house where I’m openly despised, and my own husband pretends everything’s perfectly fine!” “You’re exaggerating.” “Exaggerating?! Your son told me I was a nobody in this house. Word for word.” “He’s a teenager. They’re all like that.” Anna called her mum, who always knew what to say. “Sweetheart,” her mum’s voice was edged with worry. “You sound miserable. I can hear it in every word.” “I don’t know what to do, Mum. Max refuses to see there’s a problem.” “That’s because, for him, there isn’t one. He’s happy with things the way they are. The only one suffering is you.” Her mother paused, then said softly, “You deserve better, Anna darling. Remember that.” With no real consequences, Daniel started acting out even more. Music shook the walls until 3 AM. Dirty dishes popped up in bizarre places—on the coffee table, in the bedroom windowsill, even in the bathroom. Socks littered the hall, textbooks took over the kitchen. Anna cleaned, because she couldn’t cope with mess. She cleaned and cried in frustration. Daniel eventually stopped saying hello. Anna only existed when he needed someone to snipe at or be rude to. “You just don’t know how to deal with kids,” said Max one day. “Maybe you’re the problem?” “Deal with kids?” Anna gave a bitter laugh. “I’ve tried for half a year. He calls me ‘her’ right to your face.” “You’re making a drama out of nothing.” Anna’s last attempt to build a bridge cost her a whole day. She found a Chicken in Honey Sauce with Country Potatoes recipe online—Daniel’s favourite. She bought the best ingredients and spent four hours in the kitchen. “Dinner’s ready, Daniel!” she called, laying the table. The teenager walked out, glanced at the plate, and grimaced. “I’m not eating that.” “Why?” “Because you cooked it.” He turned and left. A minute later, the door slammed—Daniel was off to see his mates. Max returned from work, saw the untouched food and his distraught wife. “What happened?” Anna explained. Max just sighed. “Oh, Anna… Don’t take it personally, love. He doesn’t mean anything by it.” “Doesn’t mean anything?!” Anna’s voice was shaking now. “He humiliates me on purpose! Every single day!” “You’re overreacting.” A week later, Daniel brought home a gang of boys from his form—five in total. The kitchen was a disaster—leftovers from the fridge, wrappers and crumbs scattered everywhere. “Right, everyone out! Now!” Anna stormed into the lounge where Daniel and his crew were sprawled out. “It’s eleven o’clock at night!” Daniel didn’t even turn. “This is my house. I do what I want.” “This is our house. And there are rules.” “What rules?” one of the boys sniggered. “Oi, Dan, who even is she?” “Don’t bother, mate. She’s a nobody.” Anna retreated to the bedroom and called Max. He arrived an hour later, by which time everyone had gone. He looked at the mess, at his worn-out wife. “Anna, why are you making such a fuss? The lads were just hanging out for a bit.” “A bit?!” “You’re exaggerating. In fact,” Max’s brow darkened, “it’s like you want me to turn against my own son.” Anna stared at her husband, barely recognising him. “Max, we need a serious talk,” she said the next day. “About us. About our future.” He tensed, but sat down. “I can’t go on like this,” Anna spoke slowly, weighing each word. “For six months I’ve put up with being treated like dirt. I get rudeness from Daniel and complete indifference from you.” “Anna, I–” “Let me finish. I have honestly tried to be part of this family. But there is no ‘family’. There’s you, your son, and me—a stranger you keep around to cook and clean.” “You’re being unfair.” “Unfair? When was the last time your son said a single kind word to me? When was the last time you stood up for me?” Max said nothing. “I love you,” he said quietly at last. “But Daniel is my son. He comes before everything.” “Before me?” “Before any relationship.” Anna nodded. Her chest felt hollow and cold. “Thank you for being honest.” The final straw came two days later. Anna found her favourite blouse—a birthday present from her mum—in shreds on her pillow. There was no doubt who had done it. “Daniel!” Anna confronted him, holding up the tatters of fabric. “What’s this?!” The boy shrugged, not looking up from his phone. “No idea.” “That’s my property!” “So?” “Max! I need you home. Now.” Max arrived, looked at the blouse, then at his son, then his wife. “Dan, did you do this?” “No.” “You see?” Max held up his hands. “He says he didn’t.” “Who else would it be?! The imaginary cat? We haven’t got a cat!” “Maybe you ripped it by accident…” “Max!” Anna realised there was no point talking any further. He would never change. He would never stand up for her. For him, there was only one person that mattered—his son. She was nothing more than a convenient fixture in their lives. “Daniel’s having a hard time without his mother,” Max said, for the hundredth time. “You have to understand.” “I do understand,” Anna replied, icy calm now. “I understand everything.” That night, she got out her suitcases. “What are you doing?” Max stood in the doorway. “Packing. I’m leaving.” “Anna, wait! Let’s talk!” “We’ve been talking for six months. Nothing changes,” Anna carefully folded her dresses away. “I have the right to be happy too, Max.” “I’ll change! I’ll talk to Daniel!” “It’s too late.” She looked at her husband—good-looking, grown-up, but never a real partner. Only a father. And the kind of father who spoils his child with blind devotion. “I’ll file for divorce next week,” Anna zipped her suitcase. “Anna!” “Goodbye, Max.” She left the flat without looking back. In the hall, Daniel’s face flashed past—the first time she’d seen anything there besides contempt. Was it confusion? Fear? Anna didn’t care anymore. The bedsit she rented was small, but cosy—a one-bedroom place in a quiet neighbourhood, overlooking a peaceful garden. Anna unpacked, made a cup of tea, and sat on the windowsill. For the first time in six months, she felt calm. …They finalised the divorce two months later. Max tried ringing a few times, asking for another chance. Anna always replied politely, but firmly: no. She hadn’t broken. She hadn’t soured. She just realised happiness isn’t about endurance and endless sacrifice. Happiness is being respected and valued. And one day, she knew, she’d find it. Just not with this man.