John and Mary were stuck in their old-fashioned ways, and everyone on their street knew it. They lived by beliefs that were different from their neighbors, and one of their strongest beliefs was that a son was far more valuable than a daughter.
They had two children—Lydia, their eldest, and Junior, their youngest. But in their household, being the firstborn meant nothing if you were a girl. From the moment Junior was born, it was clear who the favorite was.
Lydia was treated like a shadow in her own home. She only received attention when it was time to do chores. Her parents barely noticed her otherwise, but Junior? He was the golden child, the prince of the family. He got everything he wanted—new toys, expensive gifts, and endless praise—while Lydia had to make do with whatever was left.
One day, Lydia timidly approached her mother, holding up her only decent pair of pants, now ripped at the knee.
“Mom, my last pair of pants just got torn. Can I have some money to buy a new pair?” she asked hopefully.
Her mother barely glanced at her before shaking her head. “No, you can’t. We just bought Junior a new PlayStation console, and it wasn’t cheap. You’ll have to make do with what you have.”
Instead of helping, her mother handed her a pair of scissors. “Cut them at the knees. Now they’re shorts. Problem solved.”
Lydia’s heart sank, but she knew arguing wouldn’t help. This was her life—always being second to Junior.
As the years passed, nothing changed. Junior basked in his parents’ attention, and he knew he had all the power. He took full advantage of it, ordering Lydia around like a servant. If she refused, their parents took his side, sometimes even punishing her just to keep him happy.
One day, a fight between them got out of hand. Junior, red with anger, blurted out the words that had been in his heart for years.
“I hate you, Lydia! I wish I were an only child!” he shouted.
Lydia, tired of years of mistreatment, snapped back. “I wish that too! Then you’d have to clean up after yourself instead of making me do everything!”
Her words only made Junior angrier. But Lydia had one escape—her summers with her grandfather. Every year, while Junior was sent to an expensive music camp, she was sent to stay with her grandfather, a man who truly loved her.
Her grandfather understood her pain because he had experienced the same thing. His own parents had ignored him, and now, John and Mary barely acknowledged him unless they needed something.
One summer, her parents simply forgot to pick her up when it was time to return home. She waited, heart heavy, but no one came. Instead of crying, she made a decision—she would stay with her grandfather permanently.
When she called her parents to inform them, she held onto a small hope that they would object, that they would say they missed her. But instead, her mother sounded thrilled.
“That’s great news, Lydia!” she said cheerfully.
Her father added, “We can have your things sent over tomorrow!”
Lydia’s heart shattered. It was as if they had been waiting for her to leave. From that moment on, their calls became rare, and over time, they dwindled to just two a month.
Years passed. Lydia thrived with her grandfather’s love and support. She went to college, worked hard, and dreamed of a bright future. But when she graduated, she faced a harsh reality—she had no job, no home, and no support.
Desperate, she called her parents. “Can I come home for a while? Just until I find my footing?”
Their answer was immediate. “That won’t be possible,” her father said. “We turned your room into Junior’s music studio.”
“Your brother is going to be a big deal, Lydia,” her mother chimed in. “We’re all making sacrifices for him.”
Lydia hung up, devastated but not surprised.
Then, her grandfather passed away. She grieved alone. Her parents didn’t even show up for the funeral. But then, something unexpected happened. A man in a suit arrived at her door—a notary, carrying an important message.
“Your grandfather left everything to you,” he said, handing her the legal documents. “He saved this money for you all his life. He wanted to make sure you’d be taken care of.”
Lydia was stunned. She had inherited a fortune.
Word spread quickly. Not long after, her parents called.
“Hey, Lydia! How have you been?” her father asked with fake enthusiasm.
Her mother didn’t waste time. “Lydia, we heard about your inheritance. Your brother needs a new apartment for college. Be a good sister and send him some money.”
Lydia couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “That’s why you’re calling me?”
“Of course! Why else? You’re obviously doing fine,” her mother replied.
Lydia had been abandoned by them, treated as nothing, and now they had the nerve to ask her for money. She refused. She cut ties with them and focused on building her own life.
Years later, another call came. This time, her parents weren’t demanding—they were begging.
“Lydia, please! We need your help!” her mother sobbed. “Junior stole all our money from the family safe and disappeared! We have nothing left!”
Lydia listened, her emotions swirling. She had every right to turn them away. But in the end, she chose forgiveness.
She sent them some money but made one thing clear. “This is the last time. I forgive you, but I won’t forget how you treated me. You made your choices. Now you have to live with them.”
And with that, she closed the chapter on them, walking forward into a future where she was finally free.
Lessons from this story:
- Never play favorites with your children. John and Mary worshipped Junior while ignoring Lydia, and it backfired. Junior grew up spoiled and selfish, ultimately bringing them pain.
- Love and support matter. Lydia thrived under her grandfather’s care, proving that just one person’s love can change a life.
- Forgiveness is powerful, but boundaries are necessary. Lydia chose to forgive, but she also ensured she wouldn’t be used again. Forgiveness does not mean allowing people to hurt you again.
