My mother and sister saw me as nothing more than a walletthey never truly cared to know me.
I grew up in a household that felt anything but a home. There were only three of us: my mother, my elder sister, and me. My father? A ghost of the past, just a name on my birth certificate. I never knew him, and whenever I tried to bring him up, my mother would change the subject, as if his very existence were forbidden.
So it was just us threeme, my mother, and my sister, Eleanor. She was five years older, but in truth, it always felt the roles were reversed. I was the mature one, the responsible one, while she was the spoiled princess of the house.
My mother adored her. Eleanor always had the finest clothes, the most lavish gifts, anything her heart desired. Me? I had to make do with her hand-me-downsworn, often too big, the sleeves of jumpers clumsily rolled up while my mother muttered, “Thisll do for another year or two.”
Dinner? If Eleanor was hungry, she could have seconds, thirds, whatever she liked. If I dared ask for more, I was sharply reminded how much my mother already sacrificed for us.
Birthdays? Christmas? None of it truly existed for me. No presents, no affectiononly my mothers sighs, heavy with the weight of my being another burden on her weary shoulders.
One thing was clear: I wasnt her child. I was just an obligation.
The day I became their cash dispenser
By sixteen, I knew no one would ever help me. My mother and Eleanor were an unbreakable pair, and I was the outsider.
So I started working. After school, on weekends, whenever I could. I did everythingdelivering newspapers at dawn, wiping tables in a café, hauling crates in a supermarket.
Despite the exhaustion, I was proud. For the first time, I had money of my own.
But for my mother, it was a different story.
“So, youre earning now?” she asked one evening, with a strangely gentle smile.
I nodded, unsuspecting.
She placed a hand on my shoulder.
“Its time you contributed to the household.”
By “household,” she meant her and Eleanor.
My sister never even considered getting a job. Why would she? Someone had always taken care of herfirst my mother, now, it seemed, me.
Escape was my only choice
When I finished school, I knew there was only one way out: leave, and leave far behind.
There was a university in our town, but I deliberately chose one hundreds of miles away. It wasnt just about studiesit was survival.
When I told my mother I was leaving, her gaze turned icy.
“Youre abandoning us? After all Ive done for you?”
I nearly laughed.
I moved into a cramped student dorm. For the first time, I knew what freedom felt like. I kept workingthis time as a porter at a railway station. It was gruelling, but the wages were fair. I could finally buy decent clothes, treat myself to a coffee without guilt.
Did my mother or Eleanor ever call?
Never.
Not once did they ask if I was eating, if I was managing.
When I visited for the holidays, the first words out of my mothers mouth werent “How are you?” or “We missed you.”
She eyed me up and said, “Looks like youve got money now.”
It wasnt a question. It was an accusation.
From then on, every visit became a relentless negotiation. They needed moneyEleanor wanted a new phone, new clothes. They didnt ask. They demanded.
When I told my sister to get a job, she laughed.
“Me? Work? Are you serious?”
The inheritance that changed everything
After university, I landed a steady job. Then, unexpectedly, my life shiftedmy employer offered me a company flat.
It wasnt grand, but it was mine.
When my mother and Eleanor found out, they were furious.
“Youve got a flat?! And youve given us nothing?!”
I tried explaining it was part of my employment. They wouldnt listen.
Then fate struck one last time.
My grandfathermy mothers fatherpassed away.
We werent close, but hed been the only one who treated me with any kindness.
When the solicitor read the will, I could hardly believe it.
Hed left me his house and land.
My mother and Eleanor erupted.
“This isnt fair!” Eleanor shrieked. “Ive got a child! I need that house!”
In the years since Id left, shed married, had a child, divorcedand now she demanded I sell my inheritance and hand her the money.
But my mind was made up.
When I told them, they exploded.
My mother called me selfish.
Eleanor screamed, sobbed, accused me of being an ungrateful brother.
I let them rage. Then, calmly, I said, “Im selling the house. But the money will buy a larger flat. Because Im married. And my wife is expecting.”
Silence.
They werent happy for me. They didnt care about my family.
All that mattered was they werent getting what they wanted.
That was the last time we spoke.
The family I chose
I sold the house and bought a home for my own family.
My mother and Eleanor?
Theyve never met my son. Never tried to.
But you know what?
I dont miss them.
For the first time in my life, I know what a real family feels like.
And Ill never let my child endure what I did.
