My stepfather came into our lives when I was in my early teens. Before him, other men had come and played with us, promising to be a father to me and my younger brother, but one day they would walk out of the house and never come back. I wondered why my mom still bothered bringing in others when they never stayed but this one lingered for long and took a special interest in me and not in my brother.
FOLLOW US ON WHATSAPP CHANNEL TO RECEIVE ALL STORIES IN YOUR INBOX
He came around often and made our home his home, though nothing official was going on between him and my mom. One afternoon, he tried touching me in a way that felt uncomfortable. I allowed it to see where it would go. He whispered in my ear that I was beautiful and that he would rather choose me than my mom. I quickly jumped away from him.
I started fearing his presence but he would undo the harm with acts of kindness until he struck again another afternoon. This time he was very aggressive but somehow seemed to be gauging my tolerance level. When I tried to scream, he let me go. I wanted to report him to my mom. I made attempts but didn’t know how to start.
A few days later, this man came back to visit and this time came with an apology, begging me as though I were his peer. He promised it was never going to happen again and said he would rather protect me, even if my mom tried to beat me. Honestly, I didn’t know how to handle all that. It felt overwhelming for my young heart and growing mind.
I believed him and, true to his word, it never happened again. He became a wonderful dad to us when he officially married my mom. He contributed immensely to our education and we called him Dad without the “step.” When I got married, or even before I married my husband, I shared this secret with him to paint a picture of the environment I grew up in. I didn’t stop there. I told him how my stepdad had turned over a new leaf and become the cornerstone of our growth.
He was the only person on earth I shared that secret with. He didn’t judge me. He even praised my dad for the change and the role he played afterward. He also noticed the bond between me and my dad and called it great. “If you hadn’t told me he’s your stepdad, I wouldn’t have noticed,” he said.
Our marriage started having problems, especially when he lost his job. He became overly insecure and judged every move I made. I didn’t complain about taking care of the house but he accused me of growing wings because I was the one taking care of him. I prayed for him. I asked God to give him a job to calm his heart. I knew he wasn’t that kind of man. It was unemployment that was turning him into a monster.
I came home late from work one evening and he was sitting at the entrance waiting for me. The first question was, “Where’s your ring?” All weekend I hadn’t worn my ring and I forgot to wear it when going to work that morning. He said I was sleeping around with younger men and that was why I wasn’t wearing my ring. “You don’t want those small boys you’re chasing to know you’re married, right? You’re now ashamed to tell the world you’re married because your husband is jobless. Fine. Go back to where you’re coming from.”
He entered the house and locked the door. Our marriage was less than two years old yet we were facing the biggest challenges of our lives. I knocked and pleaded with him to open the door but he never responded. I had to go back to my parents’ house and tell them what was happening. I was in tears. My heart was racing. It felt like I was losing my marriage through no fault of my own.
He wouldn’t answer my mom’s calls and wouldn’t pick up when my dad called either. I stayed with them until the weekend when they decided to take me back home and plead my case. Immediately my husband saw my stepfather, he said, “You brought the same man you said r*ped you when you were a child?”
My heart stopped for several seconds.
“She told me you r*ped her when she was a child. Ask her if she didn’t say that.”
My mom came to look at my face. My dad’s eyes were fixed on the floor. All of us had lost the words to speak. I screamed, “You’ve lost your mind because of your job. You’d better find it before you lose everything. What kind of lie is that? When did I ever tell you that?”
He answered, “I know you’ll deny it because he’s here. You go around telling lies and when you’re called out, you call me mad. It’s okay. What are you doing in a mad man’s house?” I asked my parents to leave with me. They were stunned. My mom was so confused that she couldn’t process what was happening.
My dad still tried to talk. I was already outside. My mom folded her hands into her cloth and watched. We came back home fractured as a family. We sat in silence until we got home. I apologized to my dad privately. I swore I had never told my husband the story the way he had presented it. He said he was taken aback but that it was fine.
I went to my mom too. She said, “You need to apologize to your dad and when this is over, your husband too has to apologize. He doesn’t deserve such embarrassment.”
Two clear months later, the same person who wouldn’t allow me back into his house because he claimed I was sleeping with younger men was in my parents’ house with his family, apologizing for his utterances and the way he had treated us. I removed myself from the conversation and told him the only people who needed to hear what he had to say were my parents.
He’s done with that and now wants me back home. Maybe he’s hungry and wants a caretaker or maybe he’s missing having someone to blame and scream at. The wound goes deeper. I would have gone back without blinking but I don’t think I will ever feel safe around him again. I buried my secret with him, trusting he would let it die with him but what did he do?
I Called My Girlfriend And Another Man Answered The Phone
That hurt goes deeper than any apology can heal. I’m still in my parents’ house. He called a few days ago asking me to send him some money. He has an interview to attend and needed money. I told him I was dead, so he should look elsewhere and not in my grave.
He said I’m hard-hearted for still holding on to his blunder when he had apologized. I’m holding on. And if this breaks the marriage, I’ll be okay. Maybe this marriage didn’t deserve to live in the first place.
—Anas
This story you just read was sent to us by someone just like you. We know you have a story too. Email it to us at [email protected]. You can also drop your number and we will call you so you tell us your story.