When I was 18, my father started charging me 250 dollars a month for my room. Five years later, after her funeral, her best friend handed me a box and whispered, “Your father wanted you to open it only after her death…” 😭
My mother died when I was nine. After that, my father became a stranger who lived under the same roof as me.
I never hugged, I never wondered how the day had gone and almost never showed my affection.
The day I turned eighteen, he handed me a piece of paper.
“Starting next month, you’ll pay 250 dollars for your room.
I thought I was joking.
But he was serious.
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For five years, I worked in exhausting shifts, barely managed to pay my expenses and wore shoes that were held together with glue, while Dad spent his money on beer and fishing equipment.
