My brother and I lived with Mom after my parents divorced. I never forgave Dad for infidelity, so we drifted apart while my brother kept close. Two years ago, Mom died.
Our mother saved for college since we were babies. Dad visited and said, “Stop applying to colleges!”
“Why?” I said, bewildered. “Because I gave your brother your college fund.”
I was mad.
You couldn’t! Mom paid for me!”
“I could, and I did,” he answered coldly. “But why would you hurt me?”
Looking tearful, I asked.
I knew he’d regret it when he said, “YOU never gave me a chance to explain.”
The words impacted me harder than expected. My throat was filled with irritation and anger. I wanted to shout but stood still.
“What does that mean?”
“You only ever saw me as a villain,” he continued, softening. But I was doing what I thought was best for the family. Your mother—
“Don’t bring her into this,” I yelled, resentful.
“She wouldn’t have done this.”
I saw Dad flinch but not retreat. Instead, he stepped toward me, his eyes filled with regret I hadn’t seen in years. It wasn’t enough.
Far too little. I hurt you but didn’t know how to heal it. I attempted, but you withdrew completely.”
A woman in a red dress | Source: Pexels
Stepped back.
The remarks stung more than the betrayal. After all these years and everything I had gone through, hearing him speak so honestly hit me in the gut. I stared at my father, who now seemed stranger.
You don’t understand. Mom left me something you can’t steal. I had that future too.
She dedicated her life to that. For me.”
Dad paled, and I thought he’d apologize, but he didn’t. Instead, he inhaled and spoke softly.
I gave it to Lucas because he needed it more than you. Maybe he deserved it after all those years of working with me, understanding the business, and supporting me. You…” The words weighed on him, he paused.
“You always planned differently. You always sought distinction. I doubted you would spend it wisely.”
Hard to breathe.
I had a tight chest and a terrible throat lump. My brother Lucas was always Dad’s golden child, unable to do wrong. He followed Dad into his company right out of high school and had the same smart business acumen.
I was always the dreamer, who sought more than the family company and was never enough for my father. I swallowed hard and struggled to speak. I would have used it.
I would have succeeded like Mom wanted.”
Dad said nothing else. We shared a tense quiet. I was fed up.
A close-up shot of a couple about to kiss | Source: Pexels
“Now what? You steal everything she labored for and leave me nothing? He shook his head slowly.
I don’t want to leave you. But you’ve always made your own way. Perhaps you’re showing me you don’t need help.”
The final blow.
“Maybe you’re right,” I grumbled. “Maybe I don’t need your help. However, this is not your choice.”
Dad turned and left silently.
As I stared at the door he just left, I realized I had to battle for what was mine. I refused to let him decide my future. But money wasn’t everything.
It wasn’t about proving him wrong or showcasing my strength. The issue was deeper. That that was my first real confrontation.
Lucas. Always resented him. I lacked Dad’s approval, the family business, and the trust that came with being Dad’s proud son.
And I was always the outsider, wanting more and different. I thought he got everything and didn’t grasp Dad’s shadow syndrome. Is it possible I was mistaken all along?
Lucas was contacted later that night. I didn’t know what to anticipate, but I needed his response. Before answering, the phone rang for what seemed like an eternity.
“Hello?”
A woman holding a glass of wine | Source: Pexels
Just me, Lucas.”
A pause. What you want? “Can we talk?”
He sighed.
“I have nothing to say. I performed my duty.”
“You didn’t have to take the money,” I responded, irritated again. Lucas, it was mine too.
Mom left that for us.”
“Mom wanted me to have it. She knew I needed more.”
I forced myself to breathe through rage. Can you believe it?
Long silence from Lucas. No idea what you want me to say. Though I didn’t want it, Dad made it apparent that I needed it.”
“And I didn’t?” My voice rose as I asked.
“Why didn’t you attend college?” he shot back. “Why didn’t you do what you said you would?”
Was surprised at the question. “I… It seemed impossible without the money.
I thought it was the only way.”
“That’s your mistake, then,” Lucas replied, softening. “You’ve always had the chance to succeed. You have to believe.”
The words lingered.
Was unsure how to answer. I never saw my options since I blamed him, Dad, and everyone for my troubles. “Maybe we’re both wrong,” I decided.
“Maybe I was too angry to see another way.”
“Sorry,” Lucas said. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
Not knowing what to say. It was years since I thought my brother wasn’t my enemy.
A close-up shot of a woman in a black dress | Source: Pexels
Maybe I wasn’t alone in struggling. That night we spoke about everything and nothing for hours. About Mom, the past, and how we coped differently.
That exchange taught me something important: I didn’t need Dad’s approval. I didn’t need college money. I only needed self-confidence.
I entered a local college’s admissions office the next day to apply for a scholarship. Dad’s money wasn’t needed anymore. My determination was more valuable.
It was hard. Some kids had more money than me, so the scholarship application was tough. But I persisted.
Essays about my story, dreams, and passion were heartfelt. I got the letter a month later. I received full scholarship.
Not simply the money. I realized I could shape my future. No one had to give me anything.
I could design my path. My Dad and I still rarely spoke. It was unclear if we would again.
I was no longer mad. I let go of the long-held resentment. I realized that sometimes the worst situations yield the best insights.
You don’t need others to achieve your goals. No matter how hard, you must believe in yourself and keep going. Betrayal may have started a new chapter, not the conclusion.
I want to hear about your struggles to secure your future or overcome unanticipated challenges. Share it with me and like and share this post. We’re all involved.
