When I turned seventeen, I finally found the courage to tell my parents that I wasn’t going to medical school. I wanted to be an actor and maybe even start my own business, something different from what they had planned for me.
My dad looked at me like I’d just told a terrible joke. He threw his hands up in disbelief. “You think this is funny? We’re doctors, son! It’s in our blood. It’s who we are!”
Feeling my heart race, I managed to say, “But it’s not who I am. I don’t want that life.”
I thought they’d cool down after I explained, but my dad shook his head hard, his face like stone. “Then leave. If you can’t carry on this family’s legacy, you don’t belong here.”
Just like that, they kicked me out of their lives. I was left with only a bag of clothes, a hundred bucks, and a million questions about my future. I crashed at friends’ houses and picked up odd jobs, doing whatever I could to get by.
Finding acting gigs was tough, but I worked hard. Little by little, I even started a modest business on the side. Those first days were rough. I was all alone with no family support.
Meanwhile, my family moved to the UK so my siblings could attend medical school. My older brother became the family’s shining star, a neurosurgeon who cut into spinal tumors and won awards. I was the one they never mentioned—the son who had ‘failed,’ the one who dared to break away.
When my parents told me they were coming back to Sydney, I didn’t expect anything to change. Sure, they’d call every now and then, asking the usual, “How are you?” or “What have you been up to?” but they never seemed truly interested in my life.
They always talked about my brother, especially when he got an incredible job offer paying $750,000 a year for a surgical position. I could almost see their pride glowing.
But when they started looking for houses, reality hit them hard. In the neighborhoods where they wanted to buy, homes started at around $20 million!
One day, after a long search for properties, my dad let out a sigh that echoed the exhaustion we all felt. “I guess we’ll have to settle for something smaller,” he admitted, his shoulders slumping.
“Hey, why don’t you come check out my place before dinner?” I suggested, trying to sound friendly. “It’s not far from here.”
“Your place?” My dad raised an eyebrow, curiosity piqued.
“Of course! You’d probably love to see where I’m living,” I said with a smile.
When we arrived at my house—a sleek, modern building hidden away on a quiet street—they stood there, their faces blank with surprise.
“What? This is your place?” my dad finally asked, disbelief coloring his voice.
“Yeah,” I said, pushing the front gate open. They followed me in, their eyes darting around the neatly kept yard, the vibrant flowers, and the sparkling pool in the back.
“Wow,” my mom whispered, taking it all in. Inside, the polished hardwood floors glistened, and the big windows let in tons of natural light. Designer furniture filled the space, making it look beautiful.
“How much… how much do you pay to rent a room here?” my mom asked, her voice filled with awe and shock.
“Rent?” I burst out laughing. “Mom, I don’t rent here. I own it!”
They both stood there, completely speechless.
“This is how you’ve been living?” my mother gasped, her eyes narrowing as she stared at the huge glass wall overlooking the pool. “And you just kept it secret? You lied to us all these years?”
“Lied to you?” I shot back, feeling a surge of frustration. “You never even asked! You just assumed I was barely getting by in some tiny apartment! Why do you care now?”
“Don’t twist this around!” my father barked, his face turning red. He gestured passionately at the beautiful home, his tone dripping with suspicion. “This… this is just a show, isn’t it? A way to flaunt your supposed fortune in front of us?”
I rolled my eyes, crossing my arms defiantly. “Seriously? You think I went into some shady business? No, Dad! I worked my way up in the banking world. But you never even asked!”
“Well, clearly you have the means,” my mother said softly, her tone shifting as she looked at me more closely, almost pleading.
“So, we’ll stay with you,” my dad added, his voice firm. “Not your brother. Living with him would be unacceptable.”
I couldn’t help but laugh—a genuine, hearty laugh. “You think you can just waltz back into my life, judge me, accuse me of who knows what, and then ask to live in my home? After seventeen years of silence?”
“You’re our son!” my dad shouted, frustration spilling over. “We supported you as much as we could!”
I tilted my head, taking a moment before I answered. “You chose to support my siblings, not me. When I needed help, you turned your back. That was your choice.” I paused for effect, letting the tension settle. “Honestly, you’d have a better chance of living with my neighbors than with me.”
A dark scowl crossed my father’s face. “Fine,” he said slowly, each word dripping with resentment. “Then you’re out. We’ll cut you out of the will. Not a single cent for you!”
“Oh no,” I said, my voice dripping with sarcasm. “What will I do without the inheritance from my parents who can’t even afford to live in my neighborhood?”
My mom broke the heavy silence. “We… we just wanted what was best for you.”
I looked her straight in the eyes and said firmly, “No. You wanted what was best for yourselves. You wanted another doctor in the family to carry on your legacy. But guess what? I built my own.”
My dad narrowed his eyes. “Is that so? Well, don’t come crying to us when this little charade of yours falls apart. You’ll regret pushing us away like this.”
“Pushing you away?” I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. “You pushed me away seventeen years ago. I’m just holding the line now.”
After that, I swung the door open, pointing toward the exit. My parents stood there, astonishment written all over their faces. My mom’s mouth opened and closed like a fish gasping for air, as if she still wanted to say something. But finally, they slowly walked out onto the porch.
“You’re making a mistake,” my dad warned, his voice low and threatening. “You’re going to regret this.”
I held his gaze, steady and proud. “No,” I replied, my voice unwavering. “I’ve already made peace with it.”
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