I married Ramon when he already had a 4-year-old son, Paolo. The boy’s mother left when he was too young to remember his face, so he lived with his father all his life. When I became a daughter-in-law in my husband’s family in Quezon City, everyone said:

The boy is very pitiful, please try to love him like your own son.

I thought it was easy to hear, but when we started living together, I realized that it was easier said than done. Paolo was naughty as if he wanted to test how long I could endure. I had just finished washing the blanket, and he dragged it out to the yard, dipped it in mud to “soften” it. I brought rice to the table, and he threw it on the floor. Once when I was cooking dinner, he stood behind me and whispered:

My biological mother will be back. Don’t stay here anymore. My father said my mother will be back soon.

I was speechless. He was 8 years old at the time, and those words were like a knife piercing my heart.

That night, I planned to leave and go back to my mother’s house in Laguna. But before leaving, I asked Ramon:

— Is it true that the boy’s mother is coming back? Are you still in contact with her?

He confirmed that he had no news, no feelings or attachments to that woman. He just hoped that she would not come back to disrupt the current peace. He promised to teach his son. Hearing that, I felt relieved and decided to stay. I tried to ignore what Paolo said, because after all, he was still young. Without memories of his biological mother, a child always thinks his biological mother is a good person, so it was understandable that he hated me.

He called me “Tita” for many years. Every time his father defended me, he hated me even more. I used to cry in my room, and he stood outside and turned on loud music to annoy me.

When he was in 9th grade, I was so angry that I raised my hand to slap him, but he tensed up and held out his cheek:

— If you can, slap him! You have to do that to be a true stepmother!

Hearing that, I burst into tears. I felt helpless, thinking that I could no longer teach this child, so I packed my clothes and planned to leave. But that night, when I carried my bag out of the bedroom, I saw him sleeping on the sofa, his face was thin like a young teenager.

I suddenly thought, maybe he was in the rebellious age, even if I were his biological mother, he would still resist. If I left, Ramon would get angry and might beat him until his legs were broken. Thinking that, I couldn’t bear it.

Now, I still live with a rebellious, stubborn young man. But I realized that recently he no longer goes out late at night and doesn’t come home until 11 o’clock. After dinner, he often goes to his room to study for exams. He’s in grade 12, I’ve never seen him so diligent. Occasionally, he even helps me take out the trash or clean the house. Although he still talks to me less, he’s not as stubborn as before.

Perhaps when people grow up, their thinking will change. I hope that in the coming days, my husband’s stepchild and I can live peacefully in this small house in Quezon City.