When my dad got remarried, my stepmom would make me eat at a small table off to the side, while her daughters sat with them at the main table. I felt like I didn’t exist, like I didn’t really belong. One evening, my dad came home earlier than usual and saw me sitting there alone. He didn’t say anything just quietly sat next to me.

After that, things slowly started to shift. I was invited to join them at the big table. Years later, I learned the truth: my stepmom wasn’t trying to hurt me. She was scared of…