I spent my whole life believing my father had abandoned us without looking back. Then, after years of silence, he suddenly returned. I wanted nothing to do with him. But before I could walk away, he said something that shattered everything:
“You need to know the truth about your mother.”
A Lifetime of Hate
I hated men. Every single one of them.
A strong start, right? But I had my reasons.
I watched my father walk out of our house and never return.
I watched my mother work tirelessly, sacrificing everything to raise me alone.
I still remember the night he left, even though I had been only four years old. It was burned into my mind like an old scar that never truly healed.
The moment the front door shut behind him, my mother collapsed onto the floor, as if her entire world had crumbled in an instant. She didn’t just cry—she shattered.
At that age, I didn’t understand what was happening, but I hated seeing her like that. I wrapped my tiny arms around her, trying to offer comfort with the only thing I knew.
“Mom, don’t cry. Dad will come back,” I whispered, my voice filled with innocent hope.
Her response was instant, sharp, and terrifying.
“Never mention your father again! Never!” she screamed, her voice filled with rage and pain. “Alice, remember one thing: all men are bastards, and you can never trust them.”
I didn’t argue. I was too scared. Too confused. But I listened.
And I obeyed.
She never wanted me to speak about him, yet she never stopped talking about him herself.
“Your father was useless.”
“He abandoned us.”
“He used me.”
“He never did anything for us.”
Her words were drilled into my mind over and over again until they became a part of me. With each bitter story, I hated him more. And I pitied my mother more.
But in the quiet moments, when no one was watching, I cried.
I saw the girls at school with their fathers. Fathers who held their hands, who hugged them, who showed them love. And I wondered—why didn’t I deserve that? What did I do to make him leave me?
As I grew older, I believed my mother’s words. All men were terrible.
All except one.
Love and Betrayal
Jeremy.
I met Jeremy at my first real job after college. He was also an intern.
We connected quickly, though I had been skeptical at first. But he was patient, kind, and understanding. He became the only man who managed to break through my armor, to show me what it truly meant to be loved.
After six months of dating, he decided it was time for me to meet his parents.
“They’re going to love you,” he promised.
His mother and stepfather, Gloria and Peter, were eager to meet me. But the moment I heard his stepfather’s name, I flinched. Peter. My father’s name.
“My Peter is wonderful,” Jeremy assured me. “He raised me like I was his own son.”
Lucky him.
But when I stepped into their home, my worst nightmare came to life.
I was nervous that day. My stomach twisted into knots, my palms damp. When Jeremy rang the doorbell, my legs were trembling.
The door swung open, and a warm-looking woman beamed at us. “Come in! We’ve been waiting for you!” Gloria said cheerfully.
Jeremy led me inside, squeezing my hand reassuringly.
“Peter! Come say hello!” Gloria called.
I heard footsteps. Slow. Steady. Familiar.
Then he appeared.
The moment I saw him, my entire body froze.
He looked older, his hair streaked with gray, his face lined with age. But I knew that face. I knew it better than I wished I did.
“Dad?” The word slipped out before I could stop it. My voice shook.
His eyes widened. “Alice…”
A wave of shock and fury crashed over me, knocking the air from my lungs.
Jeremy called my name, confusion in his voice, but I barely heard him. I turned and rushed outside, gasping for air.
The truth hit me like a wrecking ball.
My father hadn’t just left us. He had left us for another family. A family he loved. A family he had chosen.
I cried the whole way home.
The Other Side of the Story
Days later, I found him waiting outside my workplace.
“Alice,” he called, taking a hesitant step forward.
“Stay away from me!” I spat, my heart pounding with rage.
“Please. I need to talk to you,” he pleaded.
“We have nothing to talk about,” I snapped. “Your chance expired years ago.”
His eyes darkened. “You need to know the truth about your mother.”
I clenched my fists. “Don’t you dare talk about her!” My voice shook. “Do you have any idea how much pain you caused her?! She was miserable because of you!”
He exhaled deeply. “Alice… you are not my real daughter.”
I felt like I had been punched in the stomach. “What?”
“Your mother cheated on me. She was seeing another man when she got pregnant. She lied to me. When I found out, she told me to leave and never come back.”
Tears burned my eyes. “But I did want to see you!” My voice cracked.
He took a shaky breath. “She made sure I believed you hated me.”
I wiped my face, my hands trembling. “What do you want from me now?”
He swallowed. “I want to be in your life.”
I took a step back, my chest heavy. “I need time.” And with that, I turned and walked away.
That night, I confronted my mother.
“Is it true that you stopped my father from seeing me?!” I demanded.
Her face hardened. “He didn’t deserve you.”
“That wasn’t your choice to make!” I screamed.
Her silence was answer enough.
Jeremy picked me up that night. “Are you okay?” he asked gently.
I took a deep breath. “Take me to Peter.”
Jeremy didn’t question it. He simply started the car.
For the first time in my life, I was ready to hear my father’s side of the story.
I had spent my whole life hating men. But as it turned out, that hatred had never been mine—it had been hers. Now, I had to learn how to build my own life, free from her bitterness, and decide for myself who I wanted to be.
