Growing up, I always believed that my parents loved me equally. I was the youngest in the family, and I thought that my place in the house, their attention, and their guidance were signs of genuine love. I never questioned the fairness of their treatment or suspected that there could be secrets I was unaware of. I believed family meant protection, care, and unconditional support. How wrong I was.
For years, I tried my best to live up to their expectations. I studied hard, helped around the house, and did everything I could to make them proud. I shared my dreams and my struggles with them, trusting that they would guide me with wisdom and fairness. I saw my siblings receiving praise and rewards, and I thought that our parents’ love was equally divided, even if sometimes it seemed they favored others. I never imagined that my trust could be betrayed by those who were supposed to protect me.…CONTINUE READING
