My stepmother and stepsister spent years mocking me, calling me useless, treating me like I was nothing. I scrubbed their floors, carried their trash, and kept quiet. But one night, in a crowded room, I finally made them regret all the cruel words they had hurled at me.
I never imagined my life would turn into this. Growing up, I dreamed of becoming a fashion designer, of living in a small apartment filled with fabrics and coffee cups, of waking up excited about my work.
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Instead, I woke up to my stepmother banging on my door, yelling that I’d forgotten to unload the dishwasher. Again.
“I swear, Emma, do you ever do anything right? You’re useless!” he barked from the kitchen, his voice cutting through the thin walls like a knife.
I sat up slowly, dragging myself out of the blanket that had wrapped around me like armor. My room barely fit a double mattress and a wobbly chest of drawers with a broken drawer.
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Piles of dirty clothes lined up on the floor like boring reminders of everything she had no time or energy for.
Meanwhile, Bella, my stepsister, had an entire apartment to herself, with a private bathroom, balcony, and a dressing room full of designer dresses that my stepmother loved to show off.
“I’ll do it now,” I replied, my voice raspy with tiredness.
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“You’d better. Bella needs the kitchen clean so she can steam her dress,” she snapped at me, as if I were the maid and not the other daughter of the house.
Of course. The dress. Another luxury item to add to Bella’s collection, this one for an exclusive party she’d been bragging about all month.
Apparently, the most eligible bachelor in town was there. He’d learned long ago not to ask for anything.
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All my clothes came from thrift stores, liquidations, or donations. I had sewn the same pair of jeans three times. My favorite shirt was someone else’s discard.
I walked into the kitchen and found Bella sitting at the island in a silk robe, drinking a smoothie and looking at her phone as if she owned the world.
“Nice shirt,” he murmured without looking up. “Vintage trash?”
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“Good morning to you too,” I murmured, approaching the dishwasher.
“Mom, did you hear that?” Bella mocked. “Emma thinks sarcasm makes her interesting.”
“Don’t start, Bella,” my stepmother said, still glued to her tablet. “Emma, when you’re done, can you clean the bathroom? And the yard? Oh, and do the laundry.”
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“I have to go to work,” I said quietly.
“Then you’d better hurry. We all have responsibilities.”
Responsibilities. Your word for my unpaid work.
I clenched my jaw, finished my chores, and finally left the house.
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When I got to the bus stop, it had started to rain, softly and steadily. I didn’t mind. The rain was genuine. It wasn’t pretending to like you.
It was the first time I saw him.
A man in a gray hoodie was crouching near a construction site fence, fiddling with a broken padlock. At first, I thought he was forcing the gate, but then he turned around with a crooked smile and waved to the security guard. He wasn’t a burglar. Just a worker.
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We exchanged glances, just for a second.
The next day, I saw him again. And again the following day. Always near that place. One afternoon, I passed by with a box of donated clothes I had collected for myself.
A guy in a gray hoodie was crouching near a construction site fence, unloading thick wooden planks from a truck.
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One of the boards started to slip. Before I knew it, I dropped the box of donated clothes I was carrying and rushed to help her hold it up.
“Wow,” he said, blinking as we braced the wood together. “Thanks. You didn’t have to do that.”
“I know,” I said, wiping my palms on my jeans. “But you looked like you needed help.”
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“I’m Jake,” he offered, extending a hand.
“Emma”.
We remained there for a while, uncomfortable, as the rain gently pattered against the metal cladding of the truck.
She looked at the box I had dropped. “Let me tell you something. Since you saved my back, let me buy you a coffee.”
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I hesitated. People didn’t usually offer me things unless they expected something in return.
“Are you sure?” I asked.
“Yes. Let’s go. It’s just a coffee, not a marriage proposal.”
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I laughed, a genuine and unexpected laugh that burst forth before I could stop it. I hadn’t laughed in days.
We met again. And again. During the following days, I timed how long it took me to pass by the construction site, hoping to catch him on a break.
Sometimes we didn’t talk about anything: bad movies, pizza ingredients, the best way to fix a leaky faucet.
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But sometimes he surprised me. He asked me about my designs. He listened. And he remembered.
Then one afternoon, while we were sharing a coffee on the sidewalk, he moved uncomfortably next to me.
“I have a strange proposal,” he said.
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I raised an eyebrow. “That’s how horror movies start.”
“Nothing scary, I swear,” she said quickly. “There’s a formal event next week. I’ve been invited. They want employees to show up with appointments to look presentable. I’m not good at formal things. But I thought if you came with me, we could pretend. Just for one night.”
“Do you want me to be your respectable date?” I joked, though my chest heaved.
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“Exact”.
“Why me?”
She shrugged. “You’re not fake. And you’re not obsessed with how many zeros someone has in their bank account.”
I paused, stunned. Most people weren’t even looking at me. Let alone saying something like that.
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“I can’t pay you or anything. But I’ll buy you a dress. And pizza for dessert of your choice.”
I pretended to consider it. “If I say yes, I’ll choose the pineapple one.”
He complained. “We all have flaws. I’ll allow it.”
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The next morning, I was folding my worn uniform shirt in the kitchen when my stepmother walked in, arms crossed and disapproval already painted on her face.
“Still here?” he said.
“I have the afternoon shift,” I replied, without looking up.
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Bella floated in like a perfume ad, her hair perfectly curled and her eyes shining with self-importance.
“Guess what?” she said happily. “The owner of that huge construction company is going to be at the party. The one with the penthouse, the cars, everything. Mom says I have a good chance.”
He made a dramatic turn.
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“I bet she’s looking for someone classy,” she added, her eyes fixed on my secondhand clothes. “Not someone who rummages through donation bins.”
I didn’t say anything. What could I say?
Then there was a knock at the door. I opened it and found Jake standing there, holding a box wrapped in soft matte paper. His smile was warm and easy.
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“Hello. I’ve brought the dress.”
Before I could answer, Bella appeared over my shoulder.
“Oh my God,” she hissed softly. “Is that him? Is that the guy she’s dating?”
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My stepmother stood beside him, her lips pursed. “He seems… rough.”
“I guess we know Emma’s type,” Bella added. “She always sets the bar low.”
Bella tilted her head toward the box. “What’s in there?”
“It’s none of your business,” I said quietly. I left and closed the door behind me, with an echo more satisfying than it should have been.
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Jake raised an eyebrow. “That’s how badly they treat you, huh?”
“You have no idea.”
“Then let me steal you away for a bit,” she said. “Come on. I know a coffee shop that makes the best cinnamon rolls on the planet.”
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I followed him for a few blocks to a quiet little shop tucked between a bookstore and a nail salon.
Inside, the walls were painted a soft cream color, and the warm yellow lights made the whole place feel like an embrace. The aroma of coffee and baked sugar filled the air.
We sat by the window. He ordered tea. I ordered hot cocoa with cream.
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“I feel like I’m in another universe,” I admitted, wrapping my fingers around the cup.
Jake smiled. “Different good or different bad?”
“Different and scary,” I said. “But also a little… nice.”
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We talk. Not as strangers, but as people who find familiar pieces in another person.
He told me about his passion for building things, real things, things that would last. I told him about the notebook full of designs that I’d never had the courage to show anyone.
When she handed me the dress, I hesitated. I opened the box and exclaimed, “It’s gorgeous, elegant, nothing I’ve ever worn before!”
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“It’s a lot.”
“It’s a dress,” she said simply. “Not a mansion.”
“Even so…”
“You deserve to feel amazing,” she said. “Just for one night. Just because.”
A lump formed in my throat. “Why are you being so kind to me?”
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Her answer was gentle, sincere. “Because someone should be.”
The night of the party arrived. The ballroom was enormous: vaulted ceilings, gilded walls, velvet curtains framing tall windows overlooking the city.
Every inch screamed wealth. It was the kind of place where you felt small even before you stepped inside.
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I clung to Jake’s arm as we went inside.
“This isn’t my place,” I whispered.
“You belong wherever you want to be,” he replied.
We blended into the crowd, or so I hoped. My heart was pounding. The lights seemed too bright, the laughter too loud. I looked around and immediately regretted it.
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There they were. My stepmother. Beautiful. Standing by the champagne tower, like queens celebrating at court.
Bella saw me first. Her eyes opened wide, then narrowed, and that familiar smile appeared on her lips.
“Emma?” he said, loud enough to turn heads. “With him?” Her gaze scanned Jake as if she were looking for a discount tag.
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“Are you here with… a construction worker?” he hissed. “Do you have any idea how pathetic he looks?”
I kept a neutral expression. “I’m happy with who I came with.”
“You’re about to regret this,” she said with a smile. “The real man of the night will be here soon. And when he is… well, I hope your little hand doesn’t feel too out of place.”
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The music started playing. A spotlight moved.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” announced the master of ceremonies, “welcome the man of the moment: Jake, the city’s most influential businessman and owner of one of the largest development companies.”
Exclamations echoed around us. I froze. Jake gently released my arm and headed toward the stage. The spotlights followed him.
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I heard my stepmother whisper something sharp. Bella blinked as if she’d been slapped.
I stood frozen, my heart pounding with disbelief. Jake, my Jake, was that him ?
He took the microphone and smiled warmly. “Thank you all for being here. It’s an honor to host such a wonderful evening. Let’s make it unforgettable.” He finished his speech quickly and turned to me.
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“Is that you?” I finally asked, astonished.
“I am,” he said quietly. “But I’m still just Jake.”
“You lied.”
“I lied. I was afraid that if you knew, you would treat me differently.”
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I stared at him and then nodded slowly. “I don’t care about your money. I care about you.”
He took my hand. “No more secrets. Just us. If that’s what you want.”
My eyes were stinging. “Yes. But next time, tell me the truth.”
He smiled. “Deal.”
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And then he kissed me, softly and precisely, and the room vanished. Until it didn’t.
“Emma!” my stepmother called, running up, her voice syrupy. “Honey, you look amazing. We had no idea you and Jake… Well, we’re thrilled for you both.”
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Bella followed her, with a strained smile. “Honestly, I always said you had potential. Maybe we could drop by sometime? Your new house must be huge.”
“You didn’t have room for me in your lives,” I said firmly. “Now I don’t have room for you in mine.”
Jake gripped my hand tighter. We turned and walked away together, toward a future where I was no longer a child.
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