My father left us, abandoning my mother with a mountain of debts. That was the moment my right to a happy childhood slipped away.
I was just ten, and my little brother was barely three when our father walked out. Hed met another woman, one he said was prettier than Mum. Dad left us with the flat, but of course it still had a hefty mortgage attached. When my parents were together, I went to a well-regarded school, entered competitions and clubs, even played basketball. But after the divorce, everything changed. Mum was forced to juggle two jobs just so we could scrape by.
She cleaned houses by day then dashed off to care for an elderly lady at night. I had to transfer to the local comprehensive, a step down in every way but at least closer to home. Basketball disappeared from my life too, since Mum needed me to watch my brother during the little spare time she managed. Everything shifted in a blinkit was all unrecognisable. I made it through college, started university, then got a job. But the happy promise of childhood was gone.
It was snatched from me. All because Dad wanted something easier while Mum relied on me to look after my little brother. Just recently, at last, we finished paying off the mortgage. Im twenty-two, finally ready to save up for a place of my own. Lifes starting to feel a bit lighter. But now theres another twist: the moment we settled the loan, Dad crept back into our lives. He claimed hed had enough of his freedom and wanted to come home. Mum is radiating with happiness. I cant understand her. He never supported us, never cared for ushe left us drowning in debt, then decided to waltz back in acting like family means something to him. Who could be pleased about his return? Of course, Mum is. But I can barely look at the two of them togetherBut I cant. Not yet, maybe not ever. At dinner, I watch Mum pour tea for Dad like nothings changed, while my brother shows him drawings with shy hopefulness. I see how easily they slip into old habits, how willing everyone is to pretend the years of pain never happened.
After the dishes are washed, I step outside, the cold evening sharp against my skin. I breathe in deep, searching for anger, for sadness but what stings most is reliefnot mine, but theirs. Maybe forgiveness is easier when you had less to lose. Or maybe thats what family is: letting ghosts at the table in hopes theyll regain human shape.
I walk until stars brighten, until the ache eases. It takes me a while, but I decide, at least for tonight, to let the bitterness rest. I dont have to welcome Dad backnot the way they dobut I dont have to carry the hole he left, either. The child who lost everything is still part of me, but Ive also built a life with my own hands.
Tomorrow, Ill tell Mum Im saving for a place of my own. Tomorrow, Ill tell my brother we can still play basketball, just the two of us. And as for Dadhe can stay or go, whatever he wants. I already know Im not the one whos lost. I have found the strength he left behind. And in learning to start over, Ive built something he can never take away.
