The Truth Between Our Lies

The Home I Lost

My mom and dad separated when I was still a baby. My mother wasn’t ready to settle down—she was a happy-go-lucky woman who only wanted to enjoy life.

When my father returned to his hometown, he brought me with him. He believed my mother was selfish and irresponsible, choosing parties, friends, and alcohol over her family.

My father then entrusted me to his parents and moved to another city to find work. I grew up with my grandparents, and I was truly happy. They loved me wholeheartedly and gave me everything I needed. They made sure I felt safe, cared for, and deeply loved.

They took care of me when I was sick, sent me to school, and even made me personalized toys out of wood. They loved me as if I were their own child. Because of them, I never felt incomplete. Their love was enough to carry me through each day. I never longed for my parents—my grandparents were my whole world, and I couldn’t imagine life without them.

Even though we were poor, I was happy. I knew we struggled financially, but I never felt it because our love was greater than anything we lacked.

As time passed, I cherished every moment with them—walking through the mountains to gather vegetables and fruits, or going to the seaside to catch fish from my uncle’s boat. My life with them felt like a fairytale. It was simple, yet to me, it felt like a kind of luxury.

Years later, my father came home with another woman—a woman who already had a child from a previous relationship.

At first, I was happy. I thought I would finally have a mother who would love me as her own. But I was wrong.

She was kind in the beginning, but after a few months—especially after she gave birth to their child—she changed completely. She became cruel. She hated me. She treated me like a servant, forcing me to take care of her child while she did nothing. She made me do all the household chores.

I never experienced a normal childhood while living with them.

Every day, I prayed that my grandparents would take me with them to the mountains. But sometimes, they left me behind with my father and his partner—and those moments became my worst nightmares.

His mistress treated me like an animal. She hurt me in ways I can hardly describe. I grew to hate her deeply.

When my grandparents found out how she was treating me, my grandmother was furious. She even confronted my father, and they fought that very night. Afterward, my grandmother made the painful decision to call my real mother.

I remember hearing her say that it was one of the hardest decisions she had ever made—to let me go. She didn’t want me to continue suffering at the hands of my father’s mistress. She wanted to fight for me, but she knew that legally, she might lose. She couldn’t bear to see me in pain any longer.

Then the day came when my mother came to take me away.

I felt like I was dying inside.

I didn’t want to go with her. I didn’t want to leave my grandmother. She was my life. The pain was so unbearable that I even thought about jumping off the bus. I couldn’t stand seeing my grandmother cry.

The night before I left, she talked to me. She told me how much she loved me and reminded me to be a good girl. She said it was the hardest thing she had ever done—to let me go—because I was her everything.

It breaks my heart to think that she wouldn’t be there anymore whenever I got sick… or whenever I needed her most.