Even though they had grown and entered their teenage years, I still believed my two daughters needed a father figure in their lives. I could not bear it whenever I attended parent meetings at school and heard another mother talking about their holiday activities, picnicking by the lake, a father and child fishing together. Or when I saw the family next door, a father and child playing ball in the yard, watching television together at night. I wanted my two daughters to experience the presence of a father figure in their lives. I wanted to create a home with a complete family inside it. I only wanted Anastasia and Drizella to feel happy.
That man had the same reason.
"Building a perfect family," he said. "For Ella."
Basically, we were two people who shared the same fate. The people we loved were gone and would never return.
"My wife died from an illness," the man told me during our first meeting. It was night at a café, accompanied by soft jazz music playing from the radio. The aroma of coffee filled the place. "I've been living alone with my daughter, Ella."
I understood how that man felt. The feeling of someone who had been left behind. Me too. I told him that my husband had also been gone for a long time, having died on the battlefield. I told him everything, reopening memories from the past that almost made me shed tears every time I thought of them.
The man wore a sad smile as I spoke. I thought he understood how I felt, my position as a single parent. I liked the way he looked at me, full of sympathy, reminding me of my late husband.
The man was a wealthy merchant who often traveled abroad for work. He was sometimes worried about leaving his daughter alone at home. That was only natural, I thought. That was why he hoped to find a wife, a new mother figure for his beloved daughter. Just like how I hoped to find a father figure for Anastasia and Drizella.
It didn't take long before we finally decided to get married.
Perhaps because this was my second marriage or something else, I didn't feel the same euphoria I had felt during my first wedding. I… of course, still felt happy about the ceremony. However, I couldn't ignore the unease lingering in my heart. Something felt different. I didn't know what. Even though we married in the same church, stood at the same altar, and exchanged the same vows of fidelity. Yet I felt that something was missing.
My two daughters were present at the church that day. They didn't really object to my second marriage. You could even say they were actually quite happy.
"We're going to live in Papa's big new house." Before the wedding, I accidentally overheard Anastasia saying that while playing with Drizella.
"It's going to be so fun." Drizella smiled widely, her gaze drifting upward as if she were imagining something exciting. "I'll pick the biggest room."
"Hey, no way. The biggest room is mine!"
"How is that fair? That's not fair at all!"
"I'll decorate that room later. I'll arrange everything neatly. My clothes in the wardrobe, my books on the bookshelf, my dolls beside the bed. I'll also buy lots of posters and stickers, until they cover the entire wall."
I knew it wasn't right to eavesdrop on my daughters' conversation like this. I was simply curious, my ears unable to stop listening to what those children thought about their future family and new home. I couldn't stop focusing on their voices, especially after Anastasia asked, "They say Papa also has a daughter, right?"
"Ah, yeah. I heard it from Mama before. Her name is Ella."
Anastasia laughed. "Like your name?"
"My name is Drizella, idiot. Not Ella."
"They sound similar."
For a moment, silence fell. I peeked from behind the door and saw Drizella pouting. Her brows furrowed as she glared at her sister, who couldn't hold back her giggles.
"By the way, what do you think Ella's room is like?" Now it was Anastasia who stared upward, imagining something. "Her room must be nice. Pink wallpaper, flower patterns, lots of toys and dolls."
"Why do you think so?"
"I don't know. But I kind of want a room like that too later."
"I hope Ella is a nice kid. I want to be friends with her."
"Me too. Me too."
Deep down, I hoped for the same thing. I hoped Ella, Anastasia, and Drizella could become good friends. Become harmonious sisters, play together, study together. Be close. However, that hope would never come true.
After I got married, I moved into my husband's large house. A house with a flower garden filling the side of the building, a wide yard, stone paths stretching from the gate to the front door. I thought this was the ideal house for the new family I was about to build.
Unfortunately, this house had not fully accepted me and my two daughters.
Unlike Anastasia and Drizella, who approved of our marriage, Ella seemed unhappy with my presence in her home. The girl clearly disliked me. She would glare at me with hatred, and there was never a smile on her lips whenever she looked at me.
I understood. It took time for Ella to accept me as a replacement mother figure.
I understood that she did not want her mother's position in the house to be taken by me.
Ella loved her biological mother very much. Of course, such feelings were completely natural for a child like Ella. The love she had for her mother was immense. I knew that. I could feel it.
The greater Ella's love for her mother, the greater her hatred toward me became.
I always tried to present myself as a good mother figure in front of Ella and her father.
I thought I had done everything I could. I woke up very early, before sunrise, to prepare breakfast, the best morning meal for them. I cleaned the house from top floor to bottom floor, every corner. Then I watered the plants. I heard that Ella's late mother loved gardening, caring for flowers with her own hands. As the new "mother" in that house, I wanted to do the same. I studied plants, read many books about flowers, so that I could take care of the garden behind the house without making a single mistake.
So that I could please my husband and his daughter, Ella.
I thought I had worked hard enough. Anastasia and Drizella always said that the breakfasts and dinners I made were delicious. "It's so good, Mom!" they would exclaim. My two daughters also said that the garden I took care of looked beautiful, the blooming flowers lovely to look at. They often played there and helped me.
My husband? Ella? Did they praise me for what I had done for this house?
I remember my husband praising me a few times. He would say things like, "Ah, yes. The food tastes good." Or, "You're actually good at cleaning the house." Or, "Thank you for taking care of the flowers."
My husband often said sweet things to me. I was happy to hear them. But still, something was missing. There was something bland in his tone of voice, and in his smile. The emptiness in his gaze whenever our eyes met.
I understood. From the beginning, that man had never loved me. He married me only because he wanted his daughter, Ella, to have a mother figure. I should have known that from the start.
That father and daughter were the same. Selfish.
I remember one Christmas night. My husband bought many presents. Boxes of various colors were piled under the Christmas tree, its lights blinking softly. That night was supposed to be a happy one. After a large plate of roasted turkey, a bottle of wine, and glasses of juice for the children, it was time for us to open the presents.
I received a pair of new shoes which, well, you could say were quite nice. Anastasia received a pink teddy bear. Drizella, almost the same as her sister, also received a teddy bear, only hazel brown in color. Each of us received only one gift.
"What about Ella?" you ask?
Ah, in my husband's eyes, of course his biological daughter was far more special.
Ella received many gifts. Four, or five. I don't remember exactly how many. What I remember is that all the gifts she received were very different from what we got. If I recall correctly, there was an expensive set of colored pencils, nice clothes and shoes, and a rabbit doll bigger and cuter than the gifts given to my daughters.
Not only that. I also remember that every time Anastasia's and Drizella's birthdays came, that man was always busy with work. He would only give each of my daughters a gift box, then leave just like that. Very different from Ella's birthday.
When Ella's birthday arrived, there would be a grand celebration. My husband would take time off work, decorate the entire house with colorful balloons and ribbons, order a three-tier cake from a famous bakery in the middle of the city. He would also dress Ella in a beautiful party gown, a toy tiara that made the girl look like a princess. The gifts he gave Ella were numerous.
Favoritism. You might think so. But in my opinion, that man wasn't entirely wrong either.
It was only natural that he cared more for, loved Ella more, considering she was his biological daughter. I understood that Ella was his beloved child, from the first wife he truly loved. I could accept it, even though it felt unfair. Besides, what could I do?
I was grateful for the pair of shoes he gave me on Christmas. Anastasia and Drizella, although they clearly felt jealous when they saw Ella's special gifts, were also grateful.
I thought this was only a matter of time. I should still be able to realize my dream of building a perfect family. It would just take more effort. More time. Until finally we could all truly become a complete family. Little by little, I was sure my husband could become fair. I knew he was a good man, and I trusted him. The same with Ella. One day, the girl would surely accept me as her new mother. Her hatred would turn into affection.
How foolish I was back then.
How foolish I was, to let fate toy with my feelings once again.
I don't understand, Inspector. What was wrong with me? I only wanted to build a happy family. A home filled with laughter. What was wrong with that small dream? Why do I always fail to obtain it?
You already know, don't you, Inspector?
My second husband, Ella's biological father… was gone. He died in an accident.
Our marriage was never filled with love. However, I still cared about that man. Even though he was never fair to my daughters. Even though he never spoiled me. Even though the only thing on his mind was Ella, Ella, and Ella.
I still mourned his passing.
How could I build a perfect family without the presence of a husband. A father for the children. I couldn't. I didn't know what to do. Especially after the day of her father's funeral, Ella began to go mad.
***