Mother looked into her eyes and declared, “You’re not fit to be our daughter-in-law!”
I’m 57 years old. I have no family, no children, and probably never will. I’m not seeking sympathy or understanding. I simply wish to share my story to caution parents: do not interfere with your children’s lives. Don’t construct their happiness for them. One day, you might realize that you’ve destroyed the most crucial thing—their love.
I am a living example of how parental pride and arrogance can ruin a son’s life.
A Love That Wasn’t Meant to Be
I was 25 when I met her—Emily. A simple, kind girl from a working-class family. She had no wealth, no designer clothes, and no influential relatives. Yet she possessed something that others lacked—a heart that beat in harmony with mine.
When I brought her home, my mother looked down on her and loudly proclaimed, “We don’t need a daughter-in-law like her!”
My father backed her up. Emily was flung out almost to the doorstep of our home. They wouldn’t listen to me or allow me to speak.
“You are our only son! We raised you, educated you, and you bring home a pauper?!”
Emily stood in silence, but I could see the pain igniting in her eyes. She didn’t create a scene or burst into tears. She simply looked into my eyes, shrugged her shoulders, and walked away.
I ran after her, trying to persuade her to leave with me to another city and start anew. But she was wiser than I was.
“Your parents will do everything to ruin our lives,” she said. “They won’t leave us in peace. I don’t want to live in constant battle.”
And she left.
Lost Years
Years later, I discovered she had married her long-time acquaintance. He also came from a modest background, but together they began from scratch, worked hard, built a home, and raised children.
Occasionally, I would see her on the street. She always wore a smile. She appeared happy.
One day, I could not contain myself and asked her, “Do you love him?”
She looked at me with a hint of sadness and replied, “In a family, what matters is not love but respect, trust, and stability. Without them, no feelings will save you.”
I disagreed. In my heart, she remained my one true love.
But I never met another woman to whom I could express those same feelings.
An Empty Home
I never married.
My parents urged me, attempting to matchmake with girls from “respectable families.” But I couldn’t. I didn’t want to live with a woman I didn’t love.
Over the years, they came to terms with my decision. They began asking me to at least marry someone, bear heirs, but I was indifferent.
Years passed. My parents aged, fell ill, and passed away, one after the other.
I was left alone in our vast home.
Now my friends have families, children, and grandchildren. I meet them less frequently, as I do not want to feel that pain—the pain of another’s happiness that could have been mine.
Other People’s Children—My Solace
To fill the void, I started volunteering at playgrounds—I painted slides, repaired swings, and sometimes tidied up the yards of nurseries.
I didn’t need money. I sold all my parents’ land and inheritance.
Part of it went to charity, and I donated to schools and children’s homes.
One day, a friend asked me, “Why don’t you contribute to nursing homes?”
I smirked.
“That’s my way of getting back at the parents who left me lonely.”
Yes, it’s harsh. But now, I only believe in children. They are the future.
When my time comes, my home will go to the school I attended. Let them use it for good.
I can no longer change my life. But perhaps I can help other children so that their fates turn out differently.
