I Don’t Want a Stepmother!
Maisie didn’t want to go home. That morning, her father had casually mentioned he’d be bringing another “bride-to-be” to meet her today. Again, she’d have to force a fake smile, pretend to be the well-behaved little girl, just so this stranger might stay in their house. But Maisie was exhausted from this endless charade.
Since her parents’ divorce, their flat in Manchester had turned into a revolving door. Her father brought home one “mum” after another, and Maisie sometimes regretted choosing to live with him. Her real mother was as cold as an English winter: work always came first. Maisie had been raised by her grandmothers while her mother scolded her for the smallest misstep. Love? Care? Those were things Maisie could only dream of.
Her mother had kept the family afloat, earning enough to get by—but at what cost? Maisie often thought she’d have preferred a proper mum over a money-making machine. When their marriage fell apart, her parents split as if shaking off a heavy burden. Each started anew, but Maisie was left behind, unwanted by either.
She’d tried to get her mother’s attention—skipping school, sassing teachers—anything to make her notice. But all she got in return were shouts and humiliation. After one particularly bad row, when her mother was called into the headmaster’s office, she’d walloped Maisie and kicked her out. The girl packed her bag and went straight to her father’s. Her mother didn’t even try to stop her—if anything, she sighed in relief.
Life with her father, Henry, was easier. Maisie felt his warmth, his genuine love. She’d buckled down, started doing well in school, stopped acting out. Her grandmothers helped around the flat while her father worked long hours to keep them comfortable. In their little home on the outskirts of Manchester, a fragile sort of peace settled—one Maisie had longed for.
But everything changed when her father decided he needed a new wife. Suddenly, their home was full of strange women. Maisie met them with cold rudeness, deliberately scaring them off. She didn’t want any “mums” looking at her like she was a nuisance. But this time, her father was firm: “Maisie, enough of this nonsense! I’m trying for you, so we can have a proper family!”
Stepping inside, Maisie heard a familiar voice. Her heart leapt. She kicked off her trainers and peeked into the sitting room. There, at the table, sat her favourite teacher, Miss Eleanor. Maisie adored her—kind, fair, always ready to listen. But why was she here?
Turns out, Miss Eleanor had come to discuss Maisie’s grades. The girl was stunned. For a brief moment, she wondered—could her teacher be the one? Did she dare hope? But soon, the conversation ended, and Miss Eleanor left, leaving Maisie confused.
Before she could gather her thoughts, the doorbell rang. On the step stood a stranger—young, with bold makeup and a smug grin. Maisie’s heart sank. She’d so hoped Miss Eleanor’s visit meant something! In despair, she bolted to her room, slammed the door, and sobbed.
She stayed locked away till late evening, when her grandmother finally came. Maisie spilled all her fear and hurt. “I don’t want some stepmother! Why can’t Dad see how much this hurts me?” she cried. Her grandmother listened, then pulled her into a tight hug. She understood how hard this was for a girl whose heart had been bruised by loneliness and betrayal.
After a firm talk with Henry, they agreed: no more “brides” until Maisie was ready. But Maisie already had a plan. She was determined to get her father and Miss Eleanor together. If dreams could come true, why not help this one along? She swore she’d do whatever it took to make her favourite teacher part of their family.
Deep down, she believed it would happen. Because even the darkest days hold a little light, don’t they?
