MidReal Story
Secrets Unveiled: Stepfamily Confessions
Scenario: Strict step mom wants to discuss your recent internet search history.
Create my version of this story
“Emily, could you come up to my room? I’d like to speak with you.”
I freeze in my spot in the living room, my stepmother Sarah’s words ringing in my ears.
I glance over at my dad, Mark, who gives me a reassuring smile.
He’s not the one who wants to talk to me, though.
I still don’t understand why Sarah is pulling me away from our guests to have a private conversation, but I nod and make my way up the stairs and to her bedroom.
I’m not sure how long this will take, but I don’t want to be rude and have everyone wait on me.
I can’t help but wonder what she wants to talk about, but I don’t want to make any assumptions before I get a chance to hear it from her own mouth.
My relationship with Sarah has always been somewhat strained.
We’ve never really gotten along all that well, and it’s not for lack of trying on her part.
She’s always been a bit of a strict parent, and I’ve always found it hard to relax around her.
It doesn’t help that my dad and I are both pretty easygoing.
Sarah is more of a perfectionist than either of us, so when we’re around each other, I feel like I’m constantly on edge, trying not to do anything that will annoy her.
It’s not easy for me to feel comfortable around her because of that, and I’m still trying to figure out how to navigate our relationship.
My dad is the one who invited me to come over for dinner tonight, so I accepted the invitation because I wanted to spend time with him.
It wasn’t until afterwards that he told me he’d also invited some of his friends from work.
I was actually pretty excited when he told me because it’d be nice to get to know some of his colleagues better.
He’d always been pretty secretive about what he does at work all day, so I was looking forward to seeing what his office was like and getting to know some of his colleagues better.
I reach Sarah’s bedroom door and give a small knock before letting myself in.
The first thing I notice is the smell of lavender in the room, which almost takes me by surprise considering how much my dad cooks, and their room is only down the hall from the kitchen.
The second thing I notice are the pictures on Sarah’s nightstand—pictures of her and my dad throughout the years they’ve been together, along with one of the three of us that was taken during a family trip we took a few months ago right after they got married and moved into their house together.
I can’t help but wonder what she wants to talk to me about in private since we rarely speak alone.
We’ve lived under the same roof for six months now, but I can count on one hand the number of times we’ve had conversations longer than a few pleasantries we might exchange during meals we ate together.
I take a quick look around the room and am instantly struck by how neat and organized everything looks.
The bed is made perfectly, with the duvet pulled tight and tucked in at the corners.
Everything looks like it has a place, from the books Sarah has stacked neatly on the nightstand to the lotion and lavender-scented oil she has placed beside them.
I don’t even see any dust or random hairs scattered across the surface of the vanity.
I’ve never been to my dad’s room before—my old room is down the hall—but I can only imagine how much of a mess it must be if this is what Sarah’s room looks like.
She stands up from where she’s sitting on the edge of the bed and smiles at me.
“Hey, Emily,” she says.
“Thanks for coming up so quickly.”
I’m not sure what to say to that considering I just heard her call my name a minute ago.
She gestures for me to have a seat on the edge of the bed next to her and waits until I’m settled before she speaks again.
“So I wanted to talk to you about something,” she says as she pulls her long brown hair behind her ear.
The last time I saw her was at dinner when she had her hair tied loosely in a bun.
Something about her looks different.
I realize now that she’s taken more care with her appearance than I’ve ever seen her put in before.
I try to keep my expression as neutral as possible as I look up at her and nod.
I don’t know what she wants to talk about, but if she’s asking me to come up here in private to talk, it can’t be good.
“What would you like to talk about?”
She gives me a small smile and sits up a little straighter.
“I know that things haven’t been easy for us since your dad and I got married,” she starts.
“I also know that it’s been hard for both of us to adjust to the changes.
I hope over time we’ll be able to find some common ground, and I’ll be able to be there for you the way I know your dad wants me to be.”
Despite how much I’ve always struggled to get along well with Sarah, I find myself nodding in agreement.
It’s not that I don’t like her, per se.
She’s just so different from the mom I grew up with, and that’s made it hard for me to get to know her better.
“I’ve noticed that you’ve been acting a little differently lately.
You’re quieter than usual, and you spend more time alone in your room than you used to,” she continues.
I shift uncomfortably where I’m sitting and try to keep my expression neutral, but I can tell that she’s reading me like an open book.
“Is everything okay, Emily?”
I can’t help the way my heart hammers against my chest at the concern I hear in her voice, but I can’t tell if it’s because I’m anxious about getting in trouble or because I can tell that she genuinely wants to make sure that I’m okay.
I’ve never really had conversations like this with Sarah before, and I can’t help but be curious about what else she has to say.
I give a reluctant nod and try to keep my voice steady as I answer.
“Yeah, everything is fine.”
She gives me a small smile and reaches out to place a hand on my arm, the gesture so unexpected that I almost jump at the contact.
“I’m glad to hear that,” she says.
“Your dad’s always worried that he made things too hard for you by marrying me, but I think we could both do more to make sure you feel comfortable around us too.”
I nod again and keep my eyes locked on the floor, not sure how to respond to that.
Whatever she has to say next, I have a feeling that it’s going to make me feel even more uncomfortable than I already do.
“Is there something that you want to get off of your chest, Emily?”
I suck in a sharp breath and fight to keep my expression neutral, but I already know that it’s going to be impossible for me to do so.
I can feel the weight of tears stinging against my eyes, and I know that I’m not going to be able to keep them at bay for much longer.
It’s been so hard for me to accept the fact that my mom is no longer here with me, but even now, almost two years after she passed away, I still find myself missing her every single day.
Is that so wrong?”
I ask quietly, my voice small and shaky in the silence of the room.
Sarah’s eyes widen in surprise, but she quickly shakes her head in response.
“No, of course not,” she says softly.
“Not at all.”
Instead of saying anything else, she reaches out and pulls me into a warm hug, holding me tightly against her chest in a way that I never would have expected from her before now.
At first, I don’t move at all, but then I realize how much I need this right now, even if I didn’t think that I did before.
I’ve been missing the warmth of my mom’s hugs more than ever lately, and while Sarah might not be my mom, there’s something about this hug that feels like what I need right now.
I reach out and hug her back just as tightly, letting myself get lost in the comfort of the moment for just a little while longer before pulling away from her with one last deep breath.
“Thank you,” I say quietly, my voice small and shaky as I try to keep myself from breaking down completely in front of her.
“You’re welcome,” she says gently, giving me another small smile before we both pull away from each other completely.
She reaches up to wipe some tears away from my eyes before gesturing toward the bed with a small smile on her face.
“Why don’t you sit up here with me?”
I give a small nod and make my way over to the bed, sitting down in the spot next to her that she gestures toward.
“I know that Mark could probably just ask you what’s going on, but… I’m not like him.
I think that when it comes to you, I tend to be a little more sensitive about things than I should be,” she admits.
“What about you?”
I ask, giving her a curious look.
“Does that have anything to do with how we don’t get along too well?”
She raises an eyebrow at me at that, but she doesn’t look mad.
“I suppose that could be one way of looking at it,” she says.
“I’ve always tried to walk the fine line between being your friend and being your parent.
I don’t want to just be the one who punishes you if you do something wrong because you have your own mom and dad for that.
But sometimes I don’t know when I should take a step back and let Mark handle things on his own.”
I shift uncomfortably where I’m sitting next to her before nodding in agreement.
It’s true that Sarah has always been a little more strict with me than my dad ever has been—even before they were married—but I guess I never realized how much of an effect it could have on our relationship.
I look around as we sit in silence for a moment so that I can see what else this room might tell me about my stepmom.
It’s a much smaller room than my dad’s office, but it’s still nice in its own way.
There are only two windows in the room, both of them on the walls right near the bed where there are also some bookshelves filled with all sorts of romance novels and other books that she seems to have read for school.
Above the headboard are two paintings of flowers that are done in shades of pink and blue to match the rest of the room.
There’s a small desk off to one side with a laptop resting on it, but it looks like she uses it more for keeping track of what meals she’s planning on cooking each day rather than getting any real work done on it.
Her dresser is filled with several outfits of different colors—though mostly consisting of shades of black or white—and there are no knickknacks or other decorations around the rest of the room.
It’s clear to me that Sarah is probably just as organized and clean in her personal life as she is in the rest of the house, and I can’t help but find that a little bit amusing.
Sarah seems to be a person who likes to keep her private life just that: private.
But there’s something about this room that fills me with a sense of comfort and familiarity even though she and I have never been close before.
It’s not until I finally look over at her that I realize how long we’ve both been sitting in silence.
I give her an embarrassed look as she stares back at me, and she gives me a small smile in return.
“It’s nice in here,” I tell her quietly.
She nods in agreement, letting out a small laugh as she does so.
“I’m glad you think so,” she says.
“I’ve always thought so, too.”
We sit together in silence for a moment longer, and though I can see how it might make her feel uncomfortable to do so, Sarah doesn’t seem to mind the silence between us all that much.
In fact, she actually seems to feel much more comfortable with it than I do.
I try not to fidget too much while we both sit here together on the bed, but it’s hard for me not to do so when we’re not talking.
The more time that goes by and the longer that we sit together in silence, the more that my mind races with all sorts of possibilities of what this conversation could be about.
It’s not like she’s ever asked me to come up here for a private chat before—though, truthfully, it’s not like we’ve ever really talked at all—so why would she want to talk now?
It’s not like her to bring up something trivial like household chores or how my day went at school.
But then again, Sarah isn’t exactly a very predictable person anyway.
Just when I think that I’m about ready to scream from how awkward this whole situation is, Sarah finally speaks up.
There’s something that I’d like to talk to you about,” she says, her voice calm but serious.
“It’s important.”
