That silence hit harder than any argument ever could. He called, begged, tried guilt-tripping—but I never answered. By the time I started college—on scholarships, grants, and with my aunt’s support—I was miles ahead, building a future that had nothing to do with him.
Years later, I’m thriving. From what I hear, he’s still scrambling to patch together the family he chose over me. And honestly, sometimes I wonder if I was too harsh—if I should have forgiven him or stayed in touch. Maybe my approach wasn’t the easiest path, but at the time, it felt like the only way to make him truly understand what he’d lost.
