Being a single mother was something my family was bothered about. They have always believed I’d be happily married, and not having a husband and raising a child on my own somehow didn’t fit their idea of what a woman “should” be.
The saw me as a disgrace, despite the fact that everything they had was financed by my million dollar company, the one I built from scratch after sleepless night and only a second-hand laptop.
The moment my father hit the table the entire room fell silent. My pulse raced while everyone was looking at me during that Thanksgiving family dinner as though I have committed a sin.
I was hurt and left the house quietly. My dad’s words, “Get out of my house!” were still echoing in my head.
I never told them that the house they were sitting in had been secretly financed by me for years, or that the SUV my sister loved showing off was courtesy of my company’s employee gifting program. No, I never rubbed my success in their faces the way they rubbed their judgment in mine.
That night, I cried in my car, but then I realized that I didn’t owe them explanations, I only owed myself my freedom.
In the morning, I logged into my company accounts and disabled every family-linked card, halted all automatic payments, and sent the bank a notice that the accounts were suspended for internal review. Then I flew to Honolulu.
As I stepped on the balcony of my villa, my daughter Lily approached and took my hand. “Mom… this is ours?”
“Yes,” I told her. “It’s all ours.”
For the first time in years, I allowed myself to breathe and didn’t care what others thought of my life choices. I had my daughter and my company, and it was all I needed.
When I turned my phone on a few days later, the messages poured in. No one apologized, they only cared of the benefits I provided them with.
“Those accounts were gifts. Gifts can be taken back,” my mother wrote. Honestly, I didn’t even read all of the messages before I blocked everyone’s number.
Somehow, life became easier and my and Lily’s days were filled with beach walks, simple dinners, and easy check-ins with my team.
A family friend later admitted people were questioning my father’s outburst.
As the days passed, I realized how long I’d carried them both financially and emotionally for the sake of being accepted and loved. I was glad I finally realized that love you have to pay for isn’t love at all.
When my lawyers confirmed every financial tie was cut, I felt myself finally let go. My success mine and my daughter’s.
What I learned the moment my dad told me to leave his souse was that sometimes the family you leave behind is the peace you gain.
Would you have walked away too?
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Bored Daddy
Love and Peace
