Ntr: Living With My Stepmom

Chapter 1: The Awkward First Day

I didn't know what I was expecting when I walked into the house. Maybe a family reunion of sorts—my dad, my new step-mom, maybe even a weird family pet to make things feel "homey." What I got was more like walking into the set of a reality TV show, minus the cameras and drama.

There was my dad, standing in the entryway like he was waiting for me to make the first move. And then, standing there like she'd been living in the house her whole life (which, by the way, she hadn't), was my new step-mom—Kara.

I should've known from the way she greeted me that this wasn't going to be some normal "welcome to the family" situation. She extended her hand with the smile of someone who clearly had way too much coffee that morning.

"Hi, you must be Alex!" she chirped. "I'm Kara. I know this is a lot, but I promise I'm not a step-monster."

It was funny, but also not. She was trying so hard to be friendly. The way she said "step-monster" in that overly enthusiastic tone made it sound like a punchline from a bad sitcom. And I wasn't in the mood for a bad sitcom.

"Uh, hey," I said, giving her hand the kind of awkward shake you give someone you don't know but want to be polite to. "Nice to meet you, I guess."

She laughed, and I immediately regretted not just throwing a bag of chips at her to test her patience.

"You don't have to call me 'step-mom,'" she said. "Kara's fine. You know, I get the 'steppy' thing all the time, and it's just... well, it's not the vibe."

Not the vibe? Was she even serious? Was I in some weird parallel universe where adults said things like "not the vibe"?

My dad, noticing my expression, cleared his throat. "Alright, kiddo, go ahead and unpack. I'm sure Kara's been dying to show you around." He shot her a grin, like this was his idea of easing me in.

"Yeah, absolutely," Kara said, her enthusiasm now bordering on a level I might consider concerning. "First stop: your room!" She grabbed my suitcase like she was the proud owner of the house, and for a second, I thought maybe she was.

As we climbed the stairs, I noticed something—Kara wasn't a bad person, not at all. In fact, she was really nice, but in that too nice way that felt like it was somehow hiding something.

I stepped into my new room, and there it was: the dreaded "Welcome to the Family" basket. It was filled with little generic gifts—an air freshener (which, honestly, I didn't need), a scented candle that smelled like old-school vanilla, and a book titled How to Survive Living with Your Step-Mom: A Guide to Blending Families.

"See? You already got your first family gift!" Kara said, beaming.

I stared at it for a moment, trying to figure out if this was some kind of prank. Maybe she was going to hit me with a pie next or tell me this was actually some kind of elaborate step-mom initiation.

But she was just standing there, waiting for me to appreciate it.

"Thanks," I muttered. "I'm sure it'll be... useful."

Kara didn't seem to notice my sarcasm, which was probably a blessing. She clapped her hands together and said, "Alright, how about we head downstairs? Dinner's almost ready, and I think you'll love what I've made. It's a secret family recipe!"

I blinked. Secret family recipe? This was starting to sound like the plot of a Lifetime movie.

I gave her a polite nod, but inside, I was already trying to plan my escape. Not that I hated her or anything—I didn't. But this whole situation was... a lot.

And then, as I walked back down the stairs with her, I caught a glimpse of my dad, who was looking at us with the proud, overzealous smile of someone who thought he was winning at life. Which, honestly, I wasn't sure he was.

"Dinner's almost ready," Kara called from the kitchen, her voice way too excited. "I hope you like pasta!"

I was already planning my escape route. Because when your step-mom is too nice, it usually means something suspicious is going on.