Behind His Eyes

No one would ever believe me.

Liam was the sweetest boy at least, that's what everyone thought. With his soft black curls, big brown eyes, and the way he'd hug his father's waist like he was the safest place in the world, it was impossible not to adore him.

"Emma made my favorite today!" he would chirp at the dinner, beaming up at Mark. "She's the best cook ever."

Mark would smile at me, squeezing my hand. "Told you he'd come around."

And for a moment, I'd let myself believe it too. I wanted to.

But then Mark would get up maybe to grab a drink, maybe to answer a call, maybe just to go to the bathroom and in that tiny sliver of time, Liam's entire face would change.

His warm smile would flatten into something cold. His soft eyes would narrow.

"You're not my mother," he would hiss, just low enough so Mark wouldn't hear.

I already knew that. I never tried to be.

But it didn't stop him from making sure I knew exactly how unwanted I was.

"You're nothing to me."

And just as fast as the words came, he'd hear his father's footsteps and snap back into place - flashing a bright, innocent smile, laughing like nothing had happened.

And Mark never saw it.

No one saw it.

The Weight of Silence

I carried this all alone. The hurt. The frustration. The resentment I hated admitting I felt.

Because what could I say?

How could I look at my husband the man who loved his son more than anything and tell him that the little boy he adored so much had a different face when he wasn't looking?

Would he believe me?

Or worse would he think I didn't want Liam around? That I wanted to come between them?

So I swallowed it. Every time Liam visited, I stocked the kitchen with his favorite snacks, set up games I knew he liked, and smiled as if nothing was wrong.

And it was lovely until Mark left the room.

And the cycle started all over again.

Cracks in the Ice

One evening, after another long day of pretending, I sat on the couch.

Mark had stepped outside to take a call.

Liam barely waited for the door to close before he turned to me. "Why are you looking at me!?"

I looked at him, exhausted. "Because I care about you."

His brows furrowed. Like he didn't expect that answer.

"I don't need you," he muttered, looking away.

I exhaled. "You don't have to need me. But that doesn't mean I'm going anywhere."

Drowning in Silence

I didn't tell Mark.

I didn't want to be the villain in his eyes. The stepmother complaining about the child who had already lost so much.

I told myself that Liam was just hurting. That he'd grow out of it. That he didn't mean it.

But the words cut just the same.

"I don't want to take her place," I said, my voice barely above a whisper.

He smirked. "Good. Because you wont."

I felt something inside me break, but I didn't let him see it.

I just stood up, walked to the sink, and started washing dishes as if his words weren't echoing inside my head.

The Breaking Point

The worst part wasn't the insults. It was the way Mark looked at me like I was crazy the first time I finally told him.