Derek was furious. Not just at Nicole, but at the situation. “She’s a kid,” he said. “She doesn’t need rules to earn her place here. She’s not your tenant—she’s your daughter now.”
Nicole argued back. “I’m trying! I’m trying to give her structure, to help her feel part of this!”
The next day, the letters stopped. So did dinner at the table. Kayla retreated into her headphones and hoodie. When Derek tried to talk to her, she shut him out. Nicole stopped asking questions altogether.
The house, once loud and chaotic, fell silent.
Nicole often sat on the edge of her bed at night and wondered what she’d done wrong. Was it the rules? Was it the timing? Was she never supposed to be a “stepmom” in the first place?
She thought about her own childhood—divorced parents, new stepdads, strange houses. She remembered feeling like a guest in her own father’s living room.
Now she feared she was making Kayla feel the same.
One Saturday morning, she found Kayla asleep on the couch, her old duffle bag packed beside her. Derek was on the phone in the kitchen, whispering urgently. Kayla’s mom was coming to pick her up.
No one had discussed this with Nicole.
Kayla opened her eyes briefly and looked at her.
Kayla sat up, grabbed her bag, and said, “I don’t want to write letters anymore.”
Kayla left that afternoon.
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