After the terrible accident, my parents left for France — They just abandoned me to die in the hospital! All I got from them was a text: “We’re in Paris. Forget about us!”

My name is Genesis, and I am a 36-year-old woman who is happily married to the love of my life, Bennett. We are blessed to share a peaceful and joyful life with our six-year-old son, Mason, and our five-year-old daughter, Eloise. Bennett and I first crossed paths in the university cafeteria during our college years.

Each of us was sipping coffee and lost in our books when an impromptu chat sparked a deep and meaningful connection. Bennett, ever calm and thoughtful, would listen intently to my stories, offering a sense of comfort and patience that was deeply soothing. As time passed, our friendship grew and deepened, making Bennett an irreplaceable part of my life.

His proposal was charmingly simple yet unforgettable. Under a canopy of blossoming trees, he shyly offered a ring and with heartfelt sincerity whispered, I want to be with you forever. His genuine words and the profound emotion behind them led me to accept with a nod full of deep feelings joyfully.

Since the day we exchanged vows, we have discovered profound happiness in our marriage. The birth of our son, Mason, was a moment of sheer joy for Bennett, who with tears streaming down his face, tenderly called him our treasure. Mason is a lively and curious boy who loves the outdoors.

Every weekend, we enjoy family picnics, and watching him play fills my heart with immense joy and fulfillment. Not long after, we welcomed our daughter, Eloise, into our family. She was born with a congenital condition, which initially brought us a great deal of concern.

However, her gentle presence and resilience have brought a new dimension of love and strength to our family life. Bennett and I have teamed up, committing wholeheartedly to support Eloise through every challenge she faces. Mason, her protective older brother, deeply cherishes his sister and often declares, I will protect Eloise.

Watching their relationship grow and strengthen has brought me immense joy and stands as a highlight of my life. Another profoundly special person in my life is my grandmother, Sophie. She embodies grace and warmth, qualities I have admired and cherished since my childhood.

My mother, Lydia, divorced my father when I was quite young and quickly remarried a man named Rowan, with whom she had my half-sister, Maeve. As my mother became engrossed in her new family, I increasingly felt like an afterthought. While my mother and stepfather showered Maeve with affection and attention, I often felt overlooked.

During family shopping trips, for instance, Maeve would frequently get new shoes, while I was reminded that mine were still perfectly fine. However, my grandmother Sophie always treated me differently. She enveloped me in her warm embrace and reassuringly said, Genesis, you are my precious granddaughter.

Whenever I felt lonely, I found solace and comfort in her welcoming home. The affection I yearned for from my mother was seldom received, making my grandmother’s presence a sanctuary for my heart. On significant occasions like my wedding and the births of my children, my parents and step-sister displayed minimal interest.

My wedding seemed more of a duty for my mother and Rowan than a celebration. They attended out of obligation rather than genuine desire. My mother offered no comments on my wedding arrangements or my choice of dress, leaving me feeling as if my dreams and aspirations were dissolving into thin air, resulting in a lingering emptiness after the ceremony.

When Mason was born, my mother prioritized Maeve, bringing her to the hospital immediately after I gave birth. Yet her interest in my newborn was notably scant. Maeve’s inquiries about the baby seemed driven by mere curiosity, her gaze detached and indifferent.

I desperately longed for my mother to genuinely see and love my child, yet her focus remained fixed on Maeve, which rendered me feeling incredibly isolated and lonely within my own family. My mother, Maeve, and Rowan appeared to form an impenetrable unit, leaving me feeling like an outsider, despite my deep affection and support for them. Coming to terms with this reality has been a challenging journey for me.

I pondered over my family dynamics many times, but never quite managed to resolve my mixed emotions. Over time, I began to take a step back and assess these relationships from a wider perspective. Despite these complexities, my grandmother Sophie was overjoyed when I told her about my decision to marry.

When I shared the news, she cried tears of happiness and exclaimed, »Congratulations! You made a wonderful choice!» Her genuine enthusiasm warmed me deeply, nearly moving me to tears. Sophie truly desired my happiness, and her compassion deeply touched my heart, leaving a lasting imprint on my soul. When Bennett first met her, she welcomed him with open arms.

Sensing his nervousness, she firmly took his hand and earnestly implored, »Please take good care of Genesis. I’m counting on you.» Bennett, moved by her earnestness, responded with a shy smile and expressed his deep gratitude. In that moment, I truly felt how much my grandmother cherished me and the immense trust she placed in Bennett.

When my children, Mason and Eloise, were born, Sophie’s joy knew no bounds. It surpassed all my expectations. She loved them deeply.

When Mason took his first steps, Sophie, with tears of joy streaming down her face, jubilantly exclaimed, »Look, he can walk now!» Whenever Eloise smiled, Sophie was completely captivated, often joyfully remarking, »Eloise is starting to look like her mama.» For my children, Sophie was more than a great-grandmother. She was a limitless source of unconditional love. For me, Sophie’s enduring warmth and affection have been a pillar of support, providing me with the strength and courage to face life’s challenges.

Sophie had a profound love for France. Her home was decorated with vibrant France paintings and ornaments, creating a serene tropical ambience. After my grandfather passed away early, she chose to live independently, cherishing the memories they shared.

In honor of their cherished past, she used her inheritance to buy a cottage in France, a place filled with their treasured memories and of great significance to her. The charming cottage, located majestically along the pristine beachfront, served as a haven of peace and tranquility. After getting married, I often brought my family to stay at the cottage with my beloved grandmother Sophie.

Known for her culinary skills, Sophie’s lemon pie was particularly exceptional, with an unrivaled flavor. Standing by her side in the kitchen, enveloped in the delightful aromas of sugar and butter, remains one of my most cherished memories. Bennett was equally enchanted by the serene ambience, often commenting with a contented smile, this place is like heaven.

Mason joyfully sprinted along the sandy shores, while Eloise loved sitting on Sophie’s lap, captivated by her enthralling stories. Sophie’s profound affection for my family was unmistakable, enriching our lives with her love and wisdom. When Sophie confided in me her plans to leave the cottage to my family, my heart overflowed with joy.

The cottage was a treasure trove of cherished memories, and I looked forward to creating similarly warm moments with my children. However, these happy days were soon clouded by sorrow, when Sophie became seriously ill. I dedicated myself to her care, but managing Eloise’s complex health needs during this time was incredibly challenging.

During this turbulent period, my mother Lydia and stepfather Rowan pretended to be concerned about Sophie, yet behind the scenes, they were scheming to lay claim to her estate. My grief deepened when Sophie passed away, but the shock I felt upon reading her will was even more profound. Sophie had left not only the France cottage, but also a significant sum of money to me.

As I read the will, tears streamed down my face uncontrollably. It was as if I could hear Sophie’s voice softly telling me, Genesis, the cottage, and everything else are for you and your family. However, my mother and stepfather strongly disagreed.

They argued that it was unfair for me to inherit everything and pressured me to transfer ownership of the cottage to Sophie’s brother, Samuel. Exhausted from the emotional toll of caring for Eloise and her medical expenses, I lacked the energy to fight back. Reluctantly, I gave into their demands and handed over the keys to Samuel, saying, We can handle the paperwork when things settle down.

Losing Sophie’s cherished cottage was painful, but I forced myself to focus solely on Eloise. With the support of my husband and children, I felt I still had ample joy in my life. Several weeks after Sophie’s passing, an unexpected disaster struck.

Though there had been warnings of an approaching hurricane, the scale of devastation it unleashed was unimaginable. The storm ravaged our region with fierce winds, torrential rains, and widespread flooding. On that fateful day, I stayed home with Eloise, who was particularly susceptible to the abrupt weather changes, ensuring we remained safe indoors.

Meanwhile, Bennett and Mason went to a nearby supermarket to gather supplies. Despite the streets already beginning to flood, Bennett reassured me lightheartedly we’ll be back soon, and Mason, always thinking of others, cheerfully added, I’ll buy some snacks Eloise likes. As they waved goodbye, I had no idea that those would be the last words I’d hear from them.

On their way back, as they attempted to cross a flooded road, a sudden surge of water swept their car away. When I heard about the tragic accident on the news, it felt as though all the blood had drained from my body. I was in disbelief, perhaps because I couldn’t, or didn’t want to, believe it was true.

Overwhelmed by panic, I rushed to the police station, frantically pleading with them to find Bennett and Mason. After what felt like an eternity of agonizing hours, a police officer approached me with a somber expression, shook his head slowly, and in a hushed tone, whispered, I’m sorry, Bennett and Mason were tragically lost to the floodwaters. At that moment, my world crumbled, and I was engulfed by a grief so intense it felt as if I couldn’t breathe.

I wept uncontrollably, and although Eloise was crying too, I reminded myself that I needed to remain composed for her sake. Yet, the magnitude of my loss seemed boundless. Amidst this overwhelming sorrow, there were arrangements to be made for the funeral.

I set the date, reached out to family and friends, and began the painful process of preparing to say farewell to Bennett and Mason. During this time, I also called my mother to inform her of the tragedy. After a brief moment of silence, she responded indifferently, that’s unfortunate.

When is the funeral? Next Saturday, I replied. I can’t make it, she said. Why? I have plans to go to France.

You know, Maeve recently lost her job and broke up with her boyfriend, so Rowan and I planned a trip to cheer her up. It’s been scheduled for a while, and it’s difficult to cancel now. Her words left me speechless.

The thought of her prioritizing a vacation over mourning the loss of her son-in-law and grandson was beyond comprehension. Mom, are you serious? I asked, my voice trembling. Genesis, a family died, Bennett and Mason, and you’re prioritizing a trip? Don’t overreact, Genesis.

I understand how you feel, but we have our plans, she replied. Speechless and heartbroken, I realized she had chosen a France vacation for Maeve over attending the funeral of her son-in-law and grandson. Mixed with anger and profound sorrow, I ended the phone call feeling a deep sense of betrayal and isolation.

It was a stark reminder of the long-standing preference my mother had shown for Maeve over me. I had never imagined that my mother could be so utterly heartless. On the solemn day of the funeral, as I struggled to hold back my tears, I gently placed Bennett and Mason’s favorite flowers atop their caskets, offering a silent, poignant farewell.

The ceremony was well-attended, with many friends and relatives of Bennett present, providing a small measure of comfort. Remarkably, even my estranged father and his side of the family, whom I had not seen for many years, made the effort to come. Their presence and shared expressions of grief offered a bit of solace amidst the overwhelming sorrow.

In stark contrast, my mother, stepfather, and stepsister were conspicuously absent. They were already at the airport, I assumed instinctively. The image of them lounging carelessly in the airport lobby, laughing as they anticipated their flight, ignited a fury within me that was difficult to contain.

Such blatant disregard for our loss was simply unforgivable. Engulfed in grief over the loss of my husband and son, I also harbored a simmering anger towards them, brewing quietly within me. Following the funeral, driven by a need to confront their indifference, I checked the security cameras at the France cottage.

Seeing them there, acting casually as if nothing significant had happened, solidified my resolve. I was determined not to let them get away with their disregard. I promptly called the police and reported them for trespassing, leading to their eviction from the cottage.

When the police arrived and escorted them out, they were utterly bewildered. Frantically, they claimed that the cottage was supposed to belong to my grandmother’s brother, Samuel, but their claims fell on deaf ears. The officers, having been informed by me that I was the legal owner and had not authorized their stay, shared this information with my family, who were visibly shocked and confused.

They had no choice but to find temporary accommodation in a nearby hotel. Shortly after the eviction, my mother called me in a rage. What have you done, Genesis? Why would you do such a thing? Her voice was thick with anger, and for a moment, I was left speechless by her audacity.

Yet again, it was clear she only thought of herself. I don’t understand why this would be considered trespassing. We’re family, it shouldn’t be a problem for us to visit, she continued vehemently.

I can’t believe you would do such a thing. That cottage is supposed to belong to Samuel, isn’t it? Her words chilled me further, intertwining with layers of past pain and betrayal. She persisted in asserting her entitlement without acknowledging any wrongdoing, causing the last traces of warmth in my heart to turn to ice.

Mom, please calm down and listen, I replied calmly. When you entered the cottage, I hadn’t yet completed the legal paperwork, which means the cottage was still legally mine. I didn’t know that.

It’s unbelievable that you would accuse your own family of trespassing. Do you know how much the hotel cost? Her voice overflowed with indignation. How could you do this? We’re family, she continued.

Despite her escalating anger, I stood my ground. If we truly were family, then attending your son-in-law and grandson’s funeral should have been your priority. I don’t consider people who skip such a crucial family event as part of my family.

This left her momentarily speechless, but I seized the opportunity to express all the frustration and anger I had been suppressing. I no longer consider you family, I declared firmly and ended the call. In the aftermath, I learned that my mother, stepfather, and stepsister cut their trip short and returned home earlier than planned.

They had likely intended to stay at the cottage for several days but now faced an unexpected financial burden due to the situation. It seemed fitting that they experienced some financial difficulties. Despite their return, my mother continued to aggressively blame me for the situation, insisting on portraying me as the one at fault.

You really did something terrible by betraying your own family, she repeatedly messaged me. I chose to ignore her messages and over time, her words lost any impact on me. My heart had completely cooled toward them.

Bennett had always been the primary breadwinner, providing a stable and comfortable lifestyle for our family. Over the years, I had consistently sent financial support to my parents, especially since my mother frequently requested assistance and my stepfather often demanded it. Deep down, I never felt obligated to send them money, it was more about the expectation that I should support them.

But after the loss of Bennett and Mason, and particularly with my mother’s glaring absence at the funeral, my resentment towards her peaked. Her decision to prioritize a leisure trip to France over mourning with her family was an unforgivable betrayal that left my heart ice cold. As a result, I decided to cease all financial support to them.

The following month, when my mother realized the financial support had stopped, she called me in a panic. Every time the phone rang, a wave of disturbance washed over me. Despite maintaining my calm, I couldn’t help but question why the money hadn’t been sent.

What do you mean by this? She asked sharply over the phone. Taking a deep, steady breath, I answered in a quiet but resolute tone, I’ve decided to stop sending any financial help. After a moment of stunned silence, my mother vehemently protested, why would you do this? You know we depend on your support.

How are we supposed to survive without your help? Her voice brimmed with desperation and anger. In that instant, I knew I was fully resolute in my decision. No matter how much she expressed her upset, I was unwavering.

I have no intention of continuing the financial support. You chose to vacation in France instead of attending the funeral of my husband and son. I stated coldly.

Her fury escalated as she accused me, you’re such a cold child to say such heartless things without considering my feelings. Yet, her words no longer affected me. That’s fine.

I think we have nothing more to discuss. I concluded and hung up the phone, deciding it would be the last time. Following the call, I reaffirmed my decision to sever ties with them.

Consequently, my mother and stepfather, who had been relying on my financial support in addition to their pensions, were left to manage their pensions alone. Relatives mentioned that Maeve, who had lost her job, was still unemployed and living at home, further straining their household finances. It was challenging even to pay for utilities.

The family, once accustomed to dining out, now had to settle for frugal meals. My mother would sigh as she picked out discounted groceries, and my stepfather struggled to find work, hindered by his age. A heavy silence replaced the former liveliness, likely pervading their home.

Yet, I felt no sympathy. I no longer felt obligated to alleviate their hardships. My own peace of mind had become my top priority.

As their desperation grew, my mother and stepfather began showing up at my house unannounced, begging for money. When I refused, they would shout and create chaos. Concerned about their unpredictable visits, I reinforced my home’s security by adding extra locks and installing cameras.

Each ring of the doorbell made me anxious, and I often pretended not to be home. The constant fear made my own home feel unsafe, leading to many sleepless nights. One day, when my mother tried to sneak into my house again, I immediately called the police.

Upon their arrival, she was arrested on the spot, which led to her acquiring a criminal record. This incident significantly impacted their social credibility and hindered their ability to find work or secure loans from banks. With no income, their financial struggles deepened.

Despite the severity of their ordeal, I found it impossible to muster any sympathy. My heart had completely closed off to them. All I could do was silently observe their betrayal.

The news that my mother and stepfather had chosen a vacation in France over attending my husband and son’s funeral spread quickly among our relatives, attracting widespread disapproval. This led to their social isolation as the criticism mounted and support from family and friends dwindled. Despite my mother’s repeated apologies, my heart remained unaffected.

I had no desire to accept her gestures of remorse. Determined to protect myself from further emotional harm and let go of the pain, I made a firm decision not to meet familial expectations at my own expense. Above all, I had Eloise to think about.

Her resilience inspired me, and I knew I needed to be strong for both our sakes. Thus, severing financial ties and cutting off all connections with my family seemed like the only sensible step forward. My resolve was to leave the past behind and completely detach from my mother, stepfather, and stepsister.

In my heart, I felt our relationship had irreversibly ended. With the cessation of all financial support, I recognized the extent of my past sacrifices. Eloise and I then moved into a cozy cottage in France, bathed in warm sunlight with views of the tranquil sea, marking the start of our new chapter.

There, Eloise began to regain her vitality, and as I supported her, I rediscovered hope within myself. Freed from the burdens of my family and the pain of the past, I felt a sense of liberation. Though tears had been shed, they were now tears for moving forward, not looking back.

As Eloise and I strolled along the beach, reflecting on our challenging journey, I grew to appreciate our fresh start even more. Seeing Eloise slowly reclaim her smile was a testament to her overcoming internal battles. With my decision to live independently, our lives gradually became more peaceful, and a new future began to unfold before us.