I Sided With My Rich Mom and Abandoned My Poor Dad — It Cost Me Everything

I was five when my mother left with one suitcase. From then on, it was just my dad and me. He worked four jobs, leaving before sunrise and returning long after dark, yet we were still poor. The fridge was often empty, and resentment slowly grew inside me.

As a teenager, that resentment turned into anger. I called him a loser, told him his hard work meant nothing. He never yelled. He only smiled and stayed silent—strength I mistook for weakness.

At seventeen, my mother returned, wealthy and charming. I left with her without hesitation. Ten weeks later, I came back and found our home nearly empty. A neighbor told me my dad had been in a terrible crash and sold everything to survive.

At the hospital, I begged forgiveness. He smiled and said, “I always knew you’d come back.” In that moment, I understood what real love truly is.