Seventeen years had passed since I last saw my parents, and the scars of our past still lingered. But little did they know, their son, once deemed a disappointment, had built a life beyond their wildest dreams.
It all began when I, at 17, dared to defy their expectations of becoming a doctor. My passion lay in acting and entrepreneurship, but their refusal to understand sparked a decades-long rift.
With only $100 and a bag of clothes, I embarked on a journey of self-discovery. I couch-surfed, took odd jobs, and persevered, eventually establishing a thriving business.
Meanwhile, my family’s focus remained on my brother, a neurosurgeon, who earned their pride and admiration. His success only highlighted my supposed failure.
Years passed, and my parents’ occasional calls inquired about my well-being but showed no genuine interest in my accomplishments.
That was until they returned to Sydney, seeking a new home. The harsh reality of the city’s real estate market hit them hard, with properties starting at $20 million.
Their search led them to my doorstep, and I invited them to see my home, a stunning modern haven nestled in a quiet neighborhood.
Their jaws dropped as they took in the beautifully manicured lawn, personalized landscaping, and glistening pool. The interior’s gleaming hardwood flooring, large windows, and high-end furnishings left them speechless.
“Rent?” I choked back a chuckle. “Mom, I don’t rent here. It’s mine.”
Their incredulity quickly turned to accusation, questioning how I could afford such luxury. I retorted, “You never asked about my life! You assumed I was struggling.”
Their tone shifted from anger to desperation, seeking to stay with me, fearing embarrassment compared to their successful son.
I laughed, “You think you can judge me, accuse me, and then ask to live here? After 17 years of silence?”
Their faces fell, and my father’s bitterness spilled over. “You’re out of the will. Not a single penny.”
I shrugged, amused. “Oh no, what will I do without the inheritance from people who can’t even afford to live in my area?”
In that moment, I saw the helplessness in their eyes.
My mother whispered, “We… we just wanted the best for you.”
I smiled melancholy. “No, you desired your own best interests. But I built my own legacy.”
With that, I ushered them out, closing the door on the past.
