The narrator first meets Emily on a quiet December afternoon in a cozy, dimly lit bookstore. She’s thumbing through a worn copy of Jane Eyre, and there’s a peacefulness about her—an inner calm that draws him in. Their conversation begins over books and coffee, but something deeper takes root almost immediately. What starts as a chance encounter becomes the foundation for something lasting. Over the years, their connection only deepens. She is thoughtful, kind, and quietly strong, but behind her gentle demeanor lies a weight she carries daily.

That weight is Margaret—Emily’s stepmother.

From the beginning, Margaret’s cruelty is subtle, laced in compliments that cut and advice that wounds. “Are you sure that dress flatters your figure?” “You’re lucky he’s marrying you. I hope you can keep him.” Nothing ever explosive, nothing that would draw public criticism. Just enough to chip away at Emily’s sense of self. The kind of abuse that leaves no bruises but plenty of scars.

Emily tries to manage it. She smiles through the barbs, deflects, minimizes. When her fiancé offers to confront Margaret, Emily gently refuses. “Not yet,” she says. “Please trust me.”