My stepmother, Helen, and I never really saw eye to eye. From the day she married my father, there was a palpable tension between us.
It wasn’t that we had any outright confrontations or blatant disputes, but there was an unspoken barrier that kept us from connecting.
Perhaps it was the differences in our personalities, or maybe it was the lingering presence of my late mother, whose memory still filled our home.
Despite this, I was genuinely glad that Helen brought happiness back into my father’s life after my mother’s passing. He seemed content with her, and that was enough for me to tolerate the underlying awkwardness.
