Wasted Time, Wasted Love

My stepson pushes me down from the second floor, all because I accidentally break a bowl.

He stands over me, looking down with a cold, emotionless gaze. "You're just a stand-in my grandfather forced on us. Don't even think about replacing my mother!"

I stare up at the boy I've raised for eight years, and his indifference cuts deeper than any wound.

Blood slowly trickles down from my forehead.

Fighting through the pain, I dial a number. "Whatever debt I owed has been paid. It's time for me to leave."

Coincidentally, I already have the divorce agreement that his father has signed.

There was a long silence on the other end of the line before Raymond Mueller finally sighed. "Don't act recklessly, Joyce. Just wait for me to get back, alright?"

"Sorry, Raymond. I can't wait anymore."

I barely had time to hang up before a bowl came hurling straight at my face. I didn't react fast enough, and it hit me hard.

"You snitch. You think you're so special just because Grandpa backs you up?"

Jeremy Mueller hadn't heard our conversation from where he was standing, so he jumped to the usual conclusion—that I'd run to Raymond for help.

He grabbed another bowl and drew his arm back, ready to launch it at me.

"That bowl meant everything to my mom before she died, and you went and broke it. Don't think Grandpa showing up will save you from this."

I looked up, staring straight at my stepson. "You're lying, Jeremy."

Aaron Mueller had carefully stored all the possessions of my sister, Celia Quayle, in a safe. He was the only one who knew the combination.

That shattered bowl? It was just an ordinary dish from the kitchen.

Jeremy stuck out his tongue defiantly when he realized I'd caught him. Then he sprinted back to his room, shouting, "Serves you right for taking my mom's place!"

This time, I didn't chase after him to explain like I usually did. On autopilot, I tended to my injury and finished the chores without really thinking.

Once everything was done, I pulled out the divorce agreement from the living room drawer. Aaron's signature already graced the final line.

Suddenly, I remembered how Aaron had stared at me that day, his eyes distant, like I was nothing but a criminal.

"I don't have feelings for you, Joyce. I only married you because my family pushed me into it, and Jeremy needed someone to raise him. Once he has grown up, I expect you to have the decency to leave quietly."

Then came his cruel smirk.

"But then again, you'd never sign the papers, would you? You couldn't even wait for Celia's body to grow cold before crawling into my bed, begging to be Mrs. Mueller."

The memory made my lashes flutter, and I let out a bitter laugh at my own expense.

I picked up the pen and signed my name in the space marked for the wife. The last stroke was barely