I raised my son alone. From the very first days of his existence, he meant everything to me. I lived for him. I never bought myself dresses, never took time off, and I can’t recall the last time I slept peacefully — everything was for him.
I worked tirelessly day and night: at the post office, cleaning, washing dishes in a café. When people asked why I was wearing myself out, I always replied: “I want my son to have everything I never received.”
I believed that when I grew old, he would stand by me. That he wouldn’t abandon me, wouldn’t betray me. He used to say: “Mommy, when I’m grown — I’ll buy you a house and a car!” And I trusted him. Because he was my boy.
But everything shifted when a girl entered his life. From the very first moment, I sensed she wouldn’t bring anything good.
She looked at me with a cold sneer. She never addressed me by name. Not “ma’am,” not “mom” — just “you.”
She immediately started persuading him that I was “holding him back.” She criticized him for supporting me and said:
— Why are you giving money to your mother? Let her work if she wants to eat.
— Stop dragging her along. You have your own family now.
She plotted, convinced him to stop visiting me. Spread rumors that I was “manipulating him,” even though I only called occasionally to check if he was alright.
Once I brought him a pie — she threw him out saying:
— Let her wash her hands from someone else’s kitchen before bringing food.
He became distant. Every day I felt myself losing my son. Then — one morning — he said:
— Mom, I want to take you somewhere. Just stay there for a while. Rest.
There was no kindness or concern in his voice. I understood where he was leading me. But I went. Because he was my child.
We drove for a long time. Further and further away from the city. Eventually, he stopped. A deserted road. No houses, no people. Only sand and wind.
— Get out, he said.
I stepped out. He didn’t meet my eyes. He quietly shut the door and drove off, leaving me stranded in the middle of nowhere.
Back then, I could never have imagined that just a month later, my son would return begging for forgiveness 😢 But who needs it now?
I stood there, stunned and numb. It felt as though my heart had been torn from my chest. I didn’t scream. No tears came. There was only silence and an ache so deep it was unbearable. I didn’t know where to turn. I didn’t know how to move forward.
I simply stood there, silently praying to wake up from this nightmare.
A distant relative found me and took me in. He lived alone in a small village and offered me shelter. I didn’t reach out to my son. I wasn’t ready to hear his voice.
A month went by. Then — he appeared.
He dropped to his knees before me, sobbing like a child.
It turned out his girlfriend had betrayed him. She had cheated on him with his friend. Emptied nearly all their money from their joint account. Fled, leaving him drowning in debt and disgrace.
He said that when he left me on that road, he believed he was doing what was right. That he was starting a “new life.” But in reality, he was destroying everything he had.
He begged me to forgive him. Tears streamed down his face. He kissed my hands.
— Mom, please forgive me… I forgot who truly loves me.
And I just looked at him, wondering silently:
Do I even want to forgive anymore?
