โYou Take Up Too Much Space,โ My Dad’s New Wife Tried to Kick My Younger Sister Out of Our Childhood Home โ But She Didnโt Expect My Response
Dad remarried just six months after Momโs funeral. His new wife is Monica. I (30F) live on my own, but my 16-year-old sister Emma was still at Dadโs.
From the start, Monica wanted every trace of Mom erased. The family photos disappeared from the walls. Every picture of Mom was boxed up and shoved into Emmaโs room.
Not long after moving in, Monica said: “GODโฆ THESE PHOTOS ARE DEPRESSING.”
Emma whispered to me: “Itโs like Mom never existed. I donโt even belong here anymore.”
Later, they announced Monica was expecting twins. Dad was glowing. Emma barely spoke. That night, she told me she cried herself to sleep.
Yesterday, everything changed.
Emma spent the weekend reading while she was home alone. Dad and Monica came back earlier than expected.
Monica walked in, sniffed the air, and snapped: “Why is it SO DARK? Has she even opened a window?”
Then she stormed straight to Emmaโs room. “Youโre still here?”
Emma, confused: “Where else would I be?”
Monica: “We need this space for the twins. Your thingsโart, journals, your momโs boxesโhave to go.”
Emma, her voice trembling: “Thatโs not clutter. Thatโs my life.”
Monica, unmoved: “Your life was here. Now it’s about my family. You take up too much space, Emma, and I cannot have it happening on my watch. Not anymore.”
Then she shouted: “Derek! Tell your daughter she needs to go!”
Dad barely lifted his head. “Maybe itโs best, Em. Just for now.”
That night, Emma called me, her words broken through sobs.
“SHE KICKED ME OUT. SAID IโM NOT A PRIORITY. DAD JUST STOOD THERE.”
Balancing a laundry basket in my hands, I asked: “Where are you?”
“Auntieโs. I had nowhere else in mind.”
My stomach clenched. My little sister, still raw with grief, had been cast aside.
“Iโll take care of it,” I told her.
The next day, I went back to our family homeโthe place once filled with Momโs warmth, now stripped bare and reeking of citrus and something harsh.
Nothing felt right. The soft furnishings were gone. Family photos replaced with cold, featureless art.
Monica stood in the kitchen in silk pajamas, eating yogurt. She didnโt even blink.
“Well, well,” she smirked. “Look who decided to visit.”
I met her gaze, my voice like ice: “Iโm here to pack.”
Her lips curled. “Perfect. Get Emmaโs things and take them to your auntโs. Lots left behind.”
I gave her a tight smile, staring her down.. Watch: [in comment] – Made with AI