Stephanie lay on her bed staring at the ceiling.
The small photograph rested in her hands.
She had taken it out again.
The man in the picture looked young, standing beside her mother with a soft smile on his face. His eyes were familiar… too familiar.
They looked like hers.
Stephanie traced the edge of the photograph with her finger.
"Who were you?" she whispered softly.
Her mother never spoke about him. Not once. It was as if the man had never existed.
Yet here he was.
Proof that he did.
Stephanie slowly slipped the picture back inside her notebook and closed it. Her heart was beating faster than usual.
Maybe… maybe she could try asking.
Just once.
Later that evening, she found her mother in the kitchen.
Evelyn was cutting vegetables, her movements sharp and quick.
"Mum?" Stephanie said carefully.
Evelyn didn't look up. "What is it?"
Stephanie hesitated. Her fingers tightened together.
"I… I wanted to ask something."
"Then ask."
Stephanie swallowed.
"What was my dad like?"
The knife stopped moving.
For a moment, the kitchen became completely silent.
Evelyn slowly turned her head and looked at her.
Her eyes were cold.
"Why are you asking about him?"
Stephanie felt her throat tighten. "I was just curious. I mean… he was my father."
Evelyn's expression hardened.
"You don't need to know anything about that man."
"But—"
"I said you don't need to know."
The words hit harder than Stephanie expected.
"I just wanted to understand," Stephanie said quietly.
"There's nothing to understand," Evelyn snapped. "Focus on your life and stop digging into things that are finished."
Finished.
That word echoed painfully in Stephanie's chest.
She nodded slowly.
"Okay, Mum."
Evelyn had already turned back to the cutting board.
The conversation was over.
Stephanie walked out of the kitchen, each step feeling heavier than the last.
Later that night, the house had grown quiet.
The boys were asleep.
Her mother was in her room.
Stephanie was walking down the hallway when she heard a voice behind her.
"Stephanie."
She turned and saw her stepfather standing near the living room door.
Her stomach tightened.
"Yes?" she answered carefully.
"Come here for a minute."
She hesitated but took a few slow steps forward.
His eyes moved over her in a way that made her uncomfortable.
"You've been avoiding me lately," he said.
"I've just been busy," Stephanie replied quickly.
He stepped closer.
Too close.
Stephanie immediately moved back.
"Please don't do that," she said, her voice shaking slightly.
A strange smile appeared on his face.
"You're acting like I'm a stranger."
"Just… please stay away from me."
The words finally came out.
Her heart was racing.
For a moment, he stared at her.
Then he laughed.
The sound made her feel even worse.
"What's so funny?" Stephanie asked, trying to sound brave.
"You think threatening me will help you?" he said.
Stephanie gathered the little courage she had left.
"If you try anything again, I'll tell my mum."
The room fell silent.
Then he laughed again.
A long, mocking laugh.
"You really think she cares about you that much?" he said.
Stephanie felt the words sink deep into her chest.
"You see the way she treats you every day," he continued. "Do you really believe she would choose you over me?"
Stephanie couldn't speak.
Her throat burned.
"Go ahead," he added with a shrug. "Tell her."
He turned and walked away as if nothing had happened.
Stephanie remained standing there alone.
The house suddenly felt colder.
Her mind replayed his words again and again.
You really think she cares about you that much?
Tears slowly filled her eyes.
She wiped them quickly before they could fall.
For the first time in a long time, Stephanie felt completely alone inside her own home.
And deep inside her heart, a quiet thought began to grow.
Maybe…
this house had never truly been her home at all.
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