My mother never saw me as enough. After my father left, she blamed me, and when my perfect sister Ann was born, I became invisible. College brought freedom — and Peter, who loved me for me. But rising costs forced us to move back in with our parents.
Living with my mother again was as painful as I expected. Then came Ann’s birthday party — and the moment my mother found an old pregnancy test. In front of everyone, she humiliated me, screamed that I was a disgrace, and threw me out. I wasn’t even pregnant.
Weeks later, I overheard the truth: the test was Ann’s. She’d let me take the fall in silence.
The neighborhood soon learned the truth. My mother never apologized — not even after her golden child’s secret unraveled.
But I didn’t need her apology anymore. I had Peter, his kind family, and a future she wasn’t part of.
We got our own small place, and for the first time, it felt like home.
And I never looked back.
