After my parents divorced, my brother and I lived with Mom. I never forgave Dad for cheating, so we drifted apart, while my brother stayed close to him. Two years ago, Mom died. She’d been saving for our college since we were babies. One day, Dad showed up and said, “Stop applying to colleges!”

“Why?” I asked, confused.

“Because I already gave your college fund to your brother.”

I was furious. “You couldn’t! That was Mom’s money for me!”

“I could, and I did,” he said coldly.

“But why would you do this to me?”

I asked with tears in my eyes. I knew I’d make him regret it when he said, “YOU.”

The anger surged through me. My chest tightened. I’d held onto so much resentment for Dad over the years, blaming him for the way our family had fallen apart. To him, I was just another disappointment. A mistake. And now, he had done the unthinkable. He’d taken the last thing Mom had ever done for me—the last piece of her love, the college fund—and given it away to my brother.

“I worked for that money. I fought for it!” I yelled, feeling helpless and powerless in that moment. “It was supposed to be for me, too!”

He didn’t say anything, just stood there, watching me crumble.

“Why didn’t you tell me? Why keep it a secret?!” I demanded, struggling to catch my breath.

He just shrugged, his face hard and indifferent. “It was never about you, Heather. It was about keeping Alex happy. He’s always been the one that mattered more.”

My heart sank into the pit of my stomach. I couldn’t breathe. It was as if the ground had opened up beneath me, swallowing all my hope, all my dreams.

“Dad, you… you don’t even care about me, do you?” My voice broke, but I refused to look away.

For the first time in years, he looked at me—really looked at me. The coldness in his eyes wavered for just a second, and I saw something I hadn’t seen in a long time: regret. But then it was gone, replaced by the same stone-cold gaze that had haunted me for most of my life.

“You’ve always been a disappointment,” he muttered, turning away. “Now go and figure it out. The money’s gone.”

I stood frozen, unable to move, unable to speak. He left the house, leaving me standing there, lost and betrayed. The weight of his words hung over me like a suffocating blanket.

It took a while to process everything. I’d always thought that if I worked hard enough, if I made the right decisions, things would work out. But now, it felt like all of that had been in vain. What was I supposed to do now?

The days after that conversation were the hardest of my life. My world felt turned upside down. I could barely bring myself to look at my brother, Alex, who had always been the golden child in my eyes. He didn’t deserve the money, not after everything Dad had put him through. But I knew he had no say in it. It wasn’t Alex’s fault, but the jealousy and bitterness festered inside me, poisoning everything.

I spent hours in my room, trying to figure out what my next step should be. It wasn’t just about college anymore. It was about proving that I could make something of myself, with or without the money. I knew that if I didn’t push forward, I would lose myself in this anger, this resentment.

But I couldn’t ignore the nagging thought at the back of my mind. Why had Dad given the money to Alex? What had changed between them? I remembered how Alex used to idolize Dad. He was always the one who forgave him, who tried to fix things between them. He always seemed to understand things I couldn’t.

A few weeks later, I gathered enough courage to confront him. It wasn’t easy—he’d been avoiding me ever since the day Dad showed up with the news.

“Alex, can we talk?” I said quietly, standing in his doorway.

He didn’t look up from his laptop, but he nodded. “Yeah, sure. What’s up?”

“I need to understand. Why did Dad give you the college fund? He could have helped me, too.”

Alex sighed and rubbed his temples. “Look, Heather, I didn’t ask for it. I didn’t want it to happen this way. You know how Dad is.”

I frowned, feeling a knot in my stomach. “But why didn’t you tell me? Why didn’t you let me know what was going on?”

He paused for a moment, his face unreadable. Then he spoke slowly, as if weighing each word carefully. “Because… I think Dad’s trying to make up for the years of crap he put me through. After Mom died, he started doing things for me that he never did before. He… he felt guilty.”

I stared at him, trying to process what he said. “But he’s been doing things for you your whole life. What’s different now?”

Alex closed his laptop and turned to face me. “Because, Heather… I was the one who always tried to keep the family together. I kept hoping things would get better between him and Mom. But it never did. He knew I was always there for him, no matter how badly he messed up. And… he wants to make up for all of it now. I guess he thinks this is the only way.”

The truth hit me like a ton of bricks. Dad wasn’t just cold and selfish. He was guilty. He had been carrying this weight for years, and in his own twisted way, he was trying to make amends. But it wasn’t enough. It never would be enough.

“I don’t know if I can forgive him,” I whispered. “I don’t know if I can forget what he did.”

Alex sighed, rubbing his face. “I get it. I’m not saying you should. But maybe… maybe it’s not about forgiving him, Heather. Maybe it’s about moving forward. You have to find your own path. You can’t let him control your future. You’re strong enough to do it on your own.”

His words stuck with me. Maybe, just maybe, Alex was right. I couldn’t keep living my life resentful of my dad. I had to let go of that anger, or it would eat me alive. I had to take control of my own destiny.

Over the next few months, I focused on myself. I started applying to community colleges, reaching out to scholarships, and looking for work to support my dreams. I didn’t have the luxury of a college fund, but I wasn’t going to let that stop me. I could still make something of myself.

Then, one day, out of the blue, Dad called. It had been months since we’d spoken.

“Heather,” he said, his voice softer than I remembered. “I’ve been thinking about what I said. I know I can’t change the past, but… I want to help you. I know I messed up.”

My heart raced. Was this a trick? Was he just trying to make himself feel better again?

“I don’t need your help, Dad,” I said, my voice trembling. “I’m doing just fine without it.”

“I know,” he said quietly. “But I was wrong. I should’ve been there for you. I should’ve treated you better. I’m not asking for forgiveness, but I want to help you in any way I can.”

His words took me by surprise. For the first time, it seemed like he was truly sorry. And for the first time in years, I felt a flicker of hope. Maybe this was the beginning of something different.

I didn’t say yes right away. It took time for me to truly process what had happened. But eventually, I decided to give him a chance. I wasn’t doing it for him. I was doing it for me. I couldn’t keep carrying around that anger.

A few weeks later, he showed up at my apartment with a check for tuition. It wasn’t much, but it was a start. I didn’t ask for the money, but I accepted it anyway. It felt strange to accept something from him after all this time. But it also felt like a step forward. A way to begin rebuilding a relationship, even if it was broken beyond repair.

And as I sat there, looking at the check in my hands, I realized something: It wasn’t about the money. It was about the chance to rebuild. The chance to move past the hurt, the anger, and the resentment. It wasn’t going to be easy. But nothing worth having ever is.

I still don’t know what the future holds with Dad. Maybe we’ll never have the relationship we once had, and maybe that’s okay. What mattered was that I had finally learned to let go of the past and start fresh. I was in control of my life now, and nothing could take that away from me.

So, I held my head high, wiped away the last of my tears, and stepped into the next chapter of my life. On my terms.