For years, I gave everything to my daughter, Clara. After my husband died, I scraped by to give her a good life—skipping meals, wearing old clothes, cutting my own hair. When she had children, I became their unpaid nanny. My retirement disappeared into diapers and daycare runs.
Then I met Samuel at the library. Our connection grew into love, and when he proposed, I said yes. Clara was furious. Not out of concern—she didn’t want to lose her babysitter. When I refused to back down, she destroyed my wedding dress the morning of the ceremony.
But Samuel’s daughter stepped in and repaired it beautifully. I married Samuel that day, reclaiming joy I hadn’t felt in decades.
At the reception, Samuel revealed Clara had offered him $10,000 to break up with me. He played the recording aloud. The room fell silent.
I stood and said, “I gave everything for you, Clara. But love isn’t servitude. From now on, I choose me.”
Clara stormed out. I turned to Samuel, hand in his, and danced—finally free.
