I Won My Stepdaughter Over With Fandom

It had been twelve months since my husband and I started our family, but my stepdaughter remained stubbornly distant.

At my wit's end, I posted online, asking for advice: How could I improve my relationship with my stepdaughter?

Netizens offered various suggestions, and one with the most likes said: "Try bonding with her over complaining about your husband."

Spurred on by the comments, I impulsively decided to give it a shot.

That evening, I walked to my stepdaughter's door and knocked softly.

I told her, "Honestly, your dad's cooking isn't really that great."

After that sentence,

The air hung heavy for a full ten seconds.

I was instantly filled with regret.

Ever since Mia's mom passed away, it had just been her and her dad, leaning on each other.

And here I was, complaining about her dad right to her face.

Had I lost my mind?

My palms were sweating.

Just as I was about to apologize,

The little girl's questioning eyes suddenly lit up.

"You think it's bad too?"

It was the first time shed shown such an animated expression around me. Usually, she was so reserved.

She pulled the door open and gestured me inside.

Truth be told, I hadn't been this nervous even on my wedding day. This was my first time entering her room.

The little girl's room was impeccably neat. A poster of a female celebrity adorned the wall, and her desk was covered with various standees of her idol.

Her dad always said her idol worship was a waste of time. But I didn't see it that way. As long as the idol was a positive influence and gave her strength, it couldn't be a bad thing.

She was a neat freak, so I didn't dare sit on her bed. I stood by her desk, recalling the comments under my post. The netizens said the quickest way to bond with someone was to gossip together.

I cleared my throat, gathering my courage.

"Tell me about it."

"Your dad's cooking is like a culinary crime scene C taste, smell, and presentation, all forfeited."

"If I didn't know him better, I'd suspect he was trying to poison me."

I intentionally put on a performance of deep suffering, all while watching my stepdaughter's reaction.

She didn't get angry. Instead, her eyes widened, as if she'd found a kindred spirit, a fellow survivor, and was thrilled.

"Oh? I thought you always ate so happily. I really thought I was the only one who found it inedible."

"Pffft."

I sighed dramatically.

"I was faking it. Honestly, I never really felt full."

"Me neither!"

She pulled open a drawer, revealing a stash of snacks.

Pfft!

We looked at each other and shared a laugh.

But quickly, her smile faded, and the indifferent expression returned.

"I need to do my homework."

Being ushered out of the room didn't upset me at all. Instead, I felt a little happy.

That was the most she'd spoken to me all year. It seemed like you really could learn things online.

I quickly opened my post to share the good news with the netizens.

[Thanks everyone for the advice! I just tried bonding with my stepdaughter over her dad's awful cooking, and guess what? Not only did she not get mad, but she invited me into her room and we spoke eight whole sentences! Im so happy! What should I do next to keep building our relationship, fam?]

I hadn't expected so many people to follow my thread. I immediately received a flood of replies.

The netizen who first gave me the advice seemed shocked.

[OMG, Auntie, I was just being sarcastic! I didn't expect you to actually go for it?!]

"Sarcastic"? Isn't that an adjective? I didn't quite get it.

[I thought you meant to imply that the enemy of my enemy is my friend.]

Below that, a string of "hahahahas."

But there were also some genuinely helpful suggestions.

[From your description, it sounds like your stepdaughter is afraid to give her dad feedback. So why don't you be the "bad guy" and talk to your husband? That way, you won't have to eat bad food, and you'll look good in your stepdaughter's eyes.]

After Mia's mom passed, my husband, Liam, always felt he owed his daughter something. He'd come home from work every day and cook dinner himself. But his culinary skills were, to put it mildly, questionable. The quality was purely a roll of the dice; the seasoning, a stroke of luck.

When I offered to cook, he wouldn't hear of it. And Mia was such a sweet, considerate kid; she didn't want to hurt her dad's feelings, so she never said anything. I didn't feel comfortable bringing it up either.

But now, I had to. Id noticed the stack of snacks in the little girl's drawer; they were all high-calorie, low-nutrition junk. She was at an age when she needed proper growth, how could she fill up on that every day?

Dinner.

Liam had prepared three dishes.

Candied Braised Pork.

Berry-Stewed Ribs.

Kiwi Scrambled Eggs.

My eyes nearly rolled back into my head.

Mia walked out of her room, saw the dishes on the table, and her face went completely blank.

Liam, being the oblivious sweetheart he was, didn't notice a thing. He happily began to share his "innovative" creations.

"Mia, you said this morning you wanted tomato scrambled eggs, right? We were out of tomatoes, but I had a flash of inspiration and used kiwi instead! Try it, tell me if it's good."

Mias lips twitched, as if she was struggling. "Dad, maybe..."

The words caught in her throat. She glanced at the few gray hairs at her father's temples, then quietly picked up a piece of the dish and put it in her mouth.

"It's good."

Liam, taking her at her word, eagerly picked up his chopsticks to add more to Mias plate.

Seeing the look of sheer dread on her face, my heart ached.

But if I spoke plainly, I'd crush Liam's efforts. After some thought, I decided to be more subtle.

"Hahahaha, I feel so bad for this poor pig."

Father and daughter looked up at me in confusion.

I picked up a piece of braised pork, coated in crushed cranberries.

"Isn't it tragic? Even after it died, it had to endure this humiliation."

Mia's pupils dilated.

Liam's face cycled through shades of red and white.

"Ava, are you saying my cooking is bad?"

"No, no!"

I quickly waved my hands.

"Your cooking isn't bad, it just lacks a certain something in flavor and presentation."

"Honestly, cooking doesn't need so much 'inspiration.' We can just stick to the basics."

Liams face grew darker. But for some reason, the more I spoke, the more I wanted to say.

I picked up a piece of the green scrambled egg.

"Take this dish, for example. If you really don't have tomatoes, you could just make a plain fried egg or steamed egg, instead of using kiwi."

"And these ribs, I racked my brain and still can't imagine anyone using berries to stew them."

"Other people cook to win over someone's stomach; you cook to get rid of ours!"

Id told myself to be tactful, but once I opened my mouth, it was like a machine gun, words just spraying out.

I immediately realized my mistake and was about to apologize when Liam, face stormy, stalked back into his room.

Then I got mad. Why couldnt he take criticism when his food was genuinely bad?

I summarily dumped all the dishes into the trash. Heading into the kitchen, I grabbed a spatula.

Half an hour later.

Mia, I just whipped up a couple of new dishes. Would you like to try some?

No thanks.

Her voice was flat, her head still buried in her books.

But the next second, a telltale rumbling sound echoed in the air.

I suppressed a smile.

I accidentally made too much. Could you help me finish some?

After a moment of hesitation, she pushed herself out of her chair.

I just dont want to waste food.

She was still just a kid. Even her stubbornness was adorable.

The honey-glazed chicken wings and sliced beef with peppers on the table were still steaming. She picked up a chicken wing.

Honestly, I was a little worried. I had no idea if my cooking would suit her taste.

Watching her take a bite, my palms were sweating with anticipation.

Her eyes widened slightly.

You you really made this?

I nodded, my heart practically in my throat.

Its even better than restaurant food.

My suspended heart finally settled back into place. I couldnt help but smile, feeling warm and sweet inside.

If its good, eat plenty. Were not leaving any for your stubborn old man.

Speaking of Liam, I couldnt resist another jab.

Can you believe that big tough guy, so sensitive? Two words and hes hiding in his room.

And sensitive isnt even the worst part, his taste is awful. Every time we go shopping, he drags me along to buy clothes. Im already well past my prime, and he still tries to get me into pink dresses. How am I supposed to wear that out?

But youre even worse off. Youre in high school and still have to wear the Hello Kitty T-shirts he buys.

I prattled on, not noticing the change in the little girl's expression.

Are you saying all those ugly clothes in my closet, my dad picked them out?

Unaware of the shift in her tone, I nodded honestly.

Yeah, I told him youre a big girl now, and wearing such childish things would get you laughed at by your classmates. But he wouldnt have it, said he knew you best and youd definitely love them.

The words were barely out of my mouth when she suddenly put down her bowl.

Im full.

With that, she turned and went back to her room, the door closing with a soft thud.

Shed barely touched the food on the table. My heart instantly seized with panic.

Did she get upset because I kept complaining about her dad?

Ugh, its all my fault, I was too eager. I should have taken things step by step.

Because of this, my mood was also quite low.

That night, Liam thought I was still mad at him. He suddenly put down his phone and solemnly apologized.

Im sorry.

Seeing me stare blankly, he awkwardly shifted his gaze.

I sent pictures of my cooking to my buddy, and he said it was a culinary crime, that no normal person could eat it.

And you two put up with it for so long.

The more he spoke, the lower his head dropped.

Honestly, today I just had a bit of a bruised ego, thats why I was intentionally sulking.

But dont worry, Ive adjusted now, and I deeply recognize my mistakes.

Youre right, cooking just needs to be simple, no need for so much innovation.

Starting tomorrow, Ill stick to basic cooking, no more fancy stuff.

Seeing his earnest expression, half of the gloom in my heart dissipated.

After my first husband passed away, many people tried to set me up.

Liam wasnt the most eligible bachelor, but he was the easiest to get along with.

Some men, despite having been divorced three or four times themselves, still had the nerve to look down on me for being a second wife.

Others were even more absurd, demanding I bear him sons right away, with such exaggerated confidence youd think he had a royal throne to inherit. Then Id ask about his salary, and it would be less than mine.

When my friend first introduced me to Liam, I was a bit hesitant, fearing another oddball.

But at our first meeting, he was surprisingly normal.

We went to a trendy barbecue spot, popular with young people.

Liam said little, spending the whole time grilling meat for me.

This reminded me of my previous blind date. Hed declared that men shouldn't be in the kitchen, so from the moment he sat down, his hands never moved. He just waited for me to cook, all while rambling on and on, his saliva splattering onto the grill. When he demanded three sons, living with his mother after marriage, and me handing over my entire paycheck, I finally couldn't take it anymore and just asked the waiter for the bill.

Of course, I only paid for my half.

So, seeing Liam act so normally, I was actually a little unaccustomed to it.

After a few more dates, I realized he truly was a good man.

He was kind to me, honest, humble, generous, and willing to admit his mistakes and improve.

After a year of dating, we got married.

Life after marriage was uneventful, but happy.

The only fly in the ointment was Mia, who still refused to accept me.

I knew Liam had tried hard to bridge the gap behind the scenes. And I knew he was torn between us.

But since Id decided to spend my life with him, I couldn't just hide and do nothing.

We had to face problems together.

Before going to bed, I checked my phone for the thread. Many comments were asking for updates.

It was late, and I didn't plan to reply. But I couldn't figure out what had happened.

One moment, she was praising my cooking, the next she slammed her bowl down and left?

The netizens were smarter than me; I decided to ask them for their analysis.

I typed out everything that happened at the dinner table, recounting it in detail in the comments section.

Unexpectedly, I received many replies almost immediately.

[From Auntie's description, it seems like the stepdaughter's face changed when clothes were mentioned. Could it be related to the clothes?]

[There's a stepmom in my neighborhood who dresses her own daughter beautifully but makes her stepdaughter wear her old, shabby clothes. It's so bad that the poor kid can't even hold her head up at school.]

[Combining that with Auntie saying her stepdaughter was polite at first, then suddenly became very cold, I have a bold guess: could the stepdaughter think Auntie deliberately bought her ugly clothes to humiliate her, and that's why she holds a grudge against Auntie?]

It hit me like a ton of bricks.

Every time Liam gave Mia new clothes, hed say:

"Your Aunt Ava and I bought these for you when we were shopping."

Oh no, Mia wouldn't actually believe I bought those ugly clothes, would she?

The more I thought about it, the more plausible it seemed.

Looking at Liam, who was sleeping like a log next to me, I couldn't stand it. I slapped him.

Waking with a start, he was utterly bewildered.

"Ava, I just dreamt someone hit me."

I pulled the covers over.

"There was a mosquito on your face. I shooed it away for you."

The next day after work, I made a huge spread of dishes. I planned to clear up the misunderstanding with Liam and Mia as soon as they got home.

The doorbell suddenly rang.

It was Mia's aunt, Diana.

I quickly opened the door and welcomed her in. "Diana, you're here! Dinner's just ready, would you like to"

"Stop pretending!"

Her words cut me off before I could finish.

I was a bit taken aback.

"Diana, what do you mean by that?"

She looked at me coldly, scrutinizing me with disgust.

"You've got some nerve, you know? A woman who's been used and discarded, marrying Mia's dad and living in such a nice house."

"Ever since he married you, Mia's dad has barely spent any time with us."

"And you're still not satisfied? You even run to a child to sow discord."

"Are you hoping they cut ties with all their relatives?"

"They were right, after all. Stepmoms are never any good!"

She was a few years older than me, and Mia's aunt. Normally, if she said a few harsh words, I'd let it go. But now she was openly slandering me.

We're all just trying to live our lives. Why should I endlessly tolerate her?