The Day Everything in My Life Changed
The Day My Life Took a Different Turn
My daughter and son-in-law suggested that I sell my house to buy an apartment in the capital. After some thought, I agreed, but I had one condition: the apartment had to be registered in my name. I made my reasoning clear:
— I need to be sure that I won’t be left without a place to live in my old age. After I pass, the apartment will be yours, and you can do whatever you like with it.
My daughter said nothing, but my son-in-law’s reaction was immediate. He became enraged, shouting that I was being greedy and distrustful. I remained firm in my decision. Little did I know, this conversation would alter my life forever.
A Father’s Devotion
When my daughter was six, I lost my wife. It was the darkest day of my life. At her funeral, I made a promise to myself: I would dedicate every moment to raising our daughter.
From that day forward, my life was all about her. She grew up to be smart, compassionate, and responsible.
She always tried to help me around the house, did well in school, and made me proud of the woman she was becoming. Then, a young man entered her life.
When she introduced him to me, I was cautious at first, but he quickly won me over with his polite demeanor and clear affection for her.
When they got engaged and asked me to move in with them, I was filled with joy. I imagined us living together as a happy family. But after the wedding, things took a turn.
The Growing Distance
My son-in-law started changing. He grew distant, often irritable, and at times even hostile. I could sense he was trying to distance himself from me, but for my daughter’s sake, I chose to ignore it.
Then came the suggestion: selling my house to buy a new apartment in the capital. Though hesitant, I agreed, but I made it clear that the apartment had to be in my name.
— It’s just a precaution, a way for me to feel secure in my old age — I explained. My son-in-law reacted angrily, accusing me of mistrusting them, calling me selfish and greedy.
My daughter, instead of supporting me, remained silent. Two days later, they packed up and moved to the city without even a word of goodbye.
I thought it was just a temporary fallout, that they would come to understand. But as time passed, the silence became a permanent rift.
The Forgotten Birthday
Months passed without a word, no calls, no visits. Then, my birthday arrived. Sixty years old. Deep down, I still hoped they would remember.
That morning, I cleaned the house, made my daughter’s favorite dishes, put on my best shirt, and waited.
Every noise outside made me look up, hoping it was them. But the hours dragged on. Night fell. And my daughter never showed up.
When it finally sank in that she wasn’t coming, I put the food away, took off my shirt, and went to bed. Tears streamed down my face. Maybe I had hurt her somehow, but all I ever wanted was to do what was right.
Since then, I can’t stop wondering: is she still angry with me? Or has she simply moved on with her life, where I no longer have a place?
