I raised my daughter on my own. My only wish was that she grow up to be a truly decent human being. I spared no expense towards that goal, working myself ragged to ensure she had everything she needed. Life hadnt been easy for her, having lost her mum so young.
She suffered a great deal because of the circumstances she was forced to live in. Other children at school would tease her, making her cry and worry. I always tried to comfort her, gently telling her that life sometimes plays out in the most unpredictable ways. I loved my daughter fiercely, and in these moments, I showed her that love more than ever.
Her favourite celebration was always New Year’s Eve. She waited for it every year, hoping all her wishes might come true. The school always gave presents to mark the occasion, and the children dressed up in lovely fancy gowns and costumes. Money was always tight, but I did my best to make sure my daughter looked her best that day. One year, I scraped together enough to buy her a beautiful dressshe became a real star among her classmates, who showered her with compliments. She was overjoyed, thanking me again and again.
As time passed, my daughter grew up. After finishing at secondary school, she left for London to attend university. Everything went exactly as shed planned, thanks to her intelligence and determination. Life in the big city changed her, though. She discovered a taste for money and turned into someone a bit more calculated. She began to date men eager to spoil her with pricey gifts and extravagant meals.
When she fell pregnant, she started preparing for marriage. She felt incredibly happy, because her chosen fiancé was wealthy. But she never even considered inviting me or any other relatives to the ceremony. Instead, she sent me a message telling me not to come, explaining that the wedding would be filled with affluent guests. She made it clear that I wasnt one of them.
I was deeply hurt by this. After all the years of giving her everything I had, supporting her always, did I deserve to be treated like this? Still, after mulling it over, I decided to travel to the city nonetheless.
When it was time for the guests to give their congratulations, I walked over to my daughter. I handed her a small bouquet of flowers, kissed her cheek and wished her all the best, then quietly left. She stood frozen. Shame washed over her as she realised the cruelty of what shed done. How could she treat the person closest to her like that?
She ran after me, tears rolling down her cheeks, begging for my forgiveness and swearing never to act so terribly again.
