When Christopher’s parents learned about his dreams of joining a fashion internship, they were dead set against his decision. They tried to persuade him otherwise and eventually kicked him out, not knowing the tables would be turned years later.
Christopher’s mother, beamed as she checked the college acceptance letters that had arrived for her son. Besides Dartmouth and Georgetown, Christopher had also made it to Stanford.
She couldn’t help but call out to her husband excitedly, and the parents rushed upstairs to their son’s room to make the big announcement. “Son! You got into Stanford! You did it!” his mother exclaimed.
“My boy! A Stanford man! I’m so proud of you!” his stoic father smiled as he hugged him tightly.
“Wait, guys!” Christopher tried to interject, but they weren’t listening. He should’ve guessed something was wrong when his parents, who weren’t the most affectionate or emotional people in the world, just barged into his room with smiles.
“Let’s call your grandparents! They’ll be so happy! Oh! And let’s plan a party!” Christopher’s mother went on as she joined her husband and son.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Pexels
“Stop, Mom!” Christopher snapped. “Please stop!”
“What’s wrong, son?” his mother frowned, pulling away.
“You’re wrong!” Christopher screamed, pulling away from his father. “I’M NOT GOING TO STANFORD!”
“But son, Stanford is our family legacy. All men have to go there,” his father added while his mother nodded in agreement.
“Guys, stop! Stop acting like I’m not here! I’m not going to Stanford or any of those stupid schools! Alright?”
“Chris!” his mother warned.
“No, Mom, let me speak. I tried to tell you, but you shut me down,” Christopher continued, reaching for the papers on his bed. “This…I’m going to New York. I got a fashion internship.”
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Pexels
Richard face drained of blood, and his wife’s eyes bulged out in horror. “Fashion?! You must be out of your mind, boy!” h
“Dad, c’mon, you sell clothes! You should understand me!” Christopher tried explaining his dreams to them, but his parents turned a deaf ear to him.
“Well, I don’t make clothes, son! Or worse, design them! I own the business. I’m not going to spend my money on your stupid dream! You just proved we were failures as parents! You gotta leave! You’re worthless to me!” he said and walked away.
Christopher looked at his mother and held her hands. “Mom, it’s my dream. I need your help to convince Dad!” he pleaded with her.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Pexels
But his mother pulled her hand away and shook her head. “Our dream for you was Stanford, son. Sorry, but you need to leave this house.”
Those words stung Christopher, and he could hear his mother’s cry from his bedroom. But he was not going to give up on his dreams. So he packed his bags, called his friend Johnny, and left.
Christopher had decided that he would fly to New York with Johnny once he graduated high school. And that’s what he did.
Johnny’s parents took him in after he was kicked out of his home. And a couple of months later, after the boys graduated high school, they flew to New York.
Johnny was attending NYU while working at his uncle’s brokerage firm, and Christopher received a small stipend for his fashion internship but worked nights at a 24-hour market to pay the rest of his bills.
Christopher hadn’t heard from his parents since the day they kicked him out. In fact, they didn’t even come to his graduation or to see him off at the airport.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Pexels
Things got tough for him ever since he had left home, and it was only after arriving in New York that he realized the path to his dreams was not going to be all roses.
There was a final project for his internship, a chance to show a small line to big design houses, but the materials and fabrics were costly, and Christopher realized he couldn’t afford his vision. So he called his father to ask for help.
“What do you want?” Richard angrily asked, answering the phone. The man didn’t even bother asking his son how he was doing.
“Hey, Dad,” Christopher said timidly. “I need your help. Actually, there’s a big opportunity coming up for me.”
“On what? To choose different kinds of pink?” his father said sarcastically.
“No, it’s not that,” Christopher explained that he would get a job instantly if they liked his project at the internship, and they would also fund his future education.
But Richard’s tone remained stiff. “So why are you telling me this?” he sneered, and Christopher could imagine his father rolling his eyes.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Pexels
“I need some money,” Christopher said, getting to the point. He was embarrassed but didn’t have a choice. “And it won’t be a handout. I’ll pay you back. The thing is, I can’t miss this chance. It might set me up for life.”
“Well, you’re an adult now, and you make your own choices. Deal with it. You should have gone to Stanford,” his father said heartlessly and hung up.
Christopher hadn’t cried months ago when his parents kicked him out, but he couldn’t contain his emotions any longer. He buried his face in the table before him and sobbed so heavily that Johnny came in.
“Hey, man, it’s OK,” he consoled Christopher and grabbed a chair. It took a few minutes for Christopher to calm down and narrate what had just happened.
“Why don’t you borrow some money from me?” Johnny suggested, but Christopher refused. He already owed their flat’s deposit to him.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Pexels
“Is there any chance you could take a break? Like when you defer a class?” Johnny suggested. He noticed Christopher looked unsure. “Look, you could ask them, and hey, I have a spot at my uncle’s firm. You could take that job, make enough money, and finish your internship.”
Christopher never wanted to work in an office. He had aspired to become a fashion designer. But then Johnny explained to him that if he performed well at the job, his uncle’s firm would pay for his school.
Christopher was always good with numbers, and the money was tight, so he accepted the offer. “I think that’ll work,” he nodded nervously.
“Cheer up, dude! You’ll be back in fashion in no time,” Johnny encouraged him, and Christopher nodded, telling himself that he would make his own money. He didn’t need his dad’s help.
Ten years later, things changed. Richard couldn’t bring himself to look at the papers piled on his desk. He had to make a decision on whether to file for Chapter 13 or sell his company.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Pexels
Richard could try to start over, but he didn’t want another defeat. He failed miserably as a father when Christopher refused to join Stanford to pursue fashion.
“I’m going to toss a coin! Let destiny pick,” the older man thought and nodded, hurling away the papers on his desk in frustration. Right then, his secretary barged into his office.
“Richard, I found something!” she said and placed a document on his desk, pointing her finger at a name in the papers.
Richard’s eyes widened in shock. “Is this…But that’s impossible,” he muttered, reading more. Richard couldn’t believe his son’s name was included in the buyer profiles.
“I made some calls and confirmed it, sir. It might be a sign from the universe,” she said. “He has a stellar reputation. He worked for a brokerage firm and climbed the ladder quicker than most people. He also bought other struggling businesses and expanded in clothes, accessories, and much more. I think it’s worth trying.”
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Pexels
Richard smiled and even let out a chuckle. His son was a real businessman, not a failed designer surviving on ramen in a dirty studio apartment. He decided he would sell the company to his son.
A few days later, Richard walked into his company’s conference room wearing a wide grin on his face. He confidently shook hands with everyone and smiled at his son.
Christopher sat surrounded by his lawyers. The negotiations had already taken place, and all that was left was signing papers. After that, the company would officially be his.
“Don’t be so serious, son. Your mother is outside. Let’s celebrate after we wrap this up,” Richard told his son, but Christopher didn’t accept the invitation.
His parents had refused to help when he needed it the most. It was Johnny who helped him get the job at the brokerage firm, and Christopher was so good that he quickly climbed to the top. But Christopher couldn’t return to fashion or the internship.
After Johnny moved out, Christopher had to keep working hard to afford living expenses, and his dreams of becoming a fashion designer disappeared. But when a deal with a clothes company came up, he saw a chance and took it.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Pexels
The company grew so much that Christopher expanded it. And he also offered scholarships and internship programs to fashion students, healing his past wounds and somewhat fulfilling his dreams.
“Mrs. Pattison,” Christopher called his father’s secretary after signing the papers, ignoring his father. “Richard should leave the building. And yes, this applies to his wife too.”
“What the hell are you doing?” Richard jumped to his feet in anger.
“Please be quick, or I’ll be forced to call security,” he told Mrs. Pattison, looking his father in the eyes. “I have no interest in going to dinner with you two! But yes, I do want to know one thing…Am I worthy enough now?”
Richard’s eyes were red in anger, but he nodded and walked away, escorted by security guards.
Tell us what you think about this story, and share it with your friends. It might brighten their day and inspire them.
If you enjoyed this story, you might like this one about a father who tried to end his son’s craze for dance, only for the young boy to end up in the hospital.
This piece is inspired by stories from the everyday lives of our readers and written by a professional writer. Any resemblance to actual names or locations is purely coincidental. All images are for illustration purposes only. Share your story with us; maybe it will change someone’s life.
I Didn’t Tell My Husband’s Family I Speak Their Language, and It Helped Me Uncover a Shocking Secret about My Child
I thought I knew everything about my husband—until I overheard a shocking conversation between his mother and sister. When Peter finally confessed the secret he’d been hiding about our first child, my world shattered, and I was left questioning everything we had built together.
Peter and I had been married for three years. We met during a whirlwind summer, and everything just clicked. He was smart, funny, and kind, everything I’d ever wanted. When we found out I was pregnant with our first child a few months later, it felt like fate.
A photo of a happy couple | Source: Pexels
Now, we were expecting our second baby, and our lives seem pretty perfect. But things haven’t been as smooth as they appear.
I’m American, and Peter’s German. At first, the differences between us were exciting. When Peter’s job transferred him back to Germany, we moved there with our first child. I thought it would be a fresh start, but it wasn’t as easy as I’d hoped.
A man packing boxes | Source: Pexels
Germany was beautiful, and Peter was thrilled to be back in his home country. But I struggled. I missed my family and friends. And Peter’s family, well, they were… polite at best. His parents, Ingrid and Klaus, didn’t speak much English, but I understood more German than they realized.
At first, I didn’t mind the language barrier. I thought it would give me time to learn more German and blend in. But then, the comments started.
A successful woman | Source: Pexels
Peter’s family came over often, especially Ingrid and Peter’s sister, Klara. They would sit in the living room, chatting away in German. I’d be in the kitchen or tending to our child, pretending not to notice when their conversation shifted toward me.
“That dress… it doesn’t suit her at all,” Ingrid once said, not bothering to lower her voice.
“She’s gained so much weight with this pregnancy,” Klara added with a smirk.
A smirking woman | Source: Pexels
I’d look down at my swelling belly, my hands automatically smoothing over the fabric. Yes, I was pregnant, and yes, I’d gained weight, but their words still stung. They acted like I couldn’t understand them, and I never let on that I could. I didn’t want to cause a scene, and deep down, I wanted to see how far they’d go.
One afternoon, I overheard something that cut even deeper.
Two gossiping women | Source: Pexels
“She looks tired,” Ingrid remarked, pouring tea as Klara nodded. “I wonder how she’ll manage two children.”
Klara leaned in, lowering her voice a little. “I’m still not sure about that first baby. He doesn’t even look like Peter.”
I froze, standing just out of sight. I felt my stomach drop. They were talking about our son.
Ingrid sighed. “His red hair… it’s not from our side of the family.”
Klara chuckled. “Maybe she didn’t tell Peter everything.”
A chuckling woman | Source: Pexels
They both laughed softly, and I stood there, too stunned to move. How could they say that? I wanted to scream at them, tell them they were wrong, but I stayed quiet, my hands trembling. I didn’t know what to do.
The next visit after our second baby was born was the hardest. I was exhausted, trying to manage a newborn and our toddler. Ingrid and Klara arrived, offering smiles and congratulations, but I could tell something was off. They whispered to each other when they thought I wasn’t looking, and the tension in the air was thick.
Two women gossiping | Source: Pexels
As I sat feeding the baby in the other room, I heard them talking in hushed voices. I leaned closer to the door, listening.
“She still doesn’t know, does she?” Ingrid whispered.
Klara laughed softly. “Of course not. Peter never told her the truth about the first baby.”
My heart skipped a beat. The truth? About our first baby? What were they talking about?
A shocked woman | Source: Midjourney
I felt my pulse quicken, and a cold wave of fear washed over me. I knew I shouldn’t listen, but I couldn’t help it. What could they mean? I needed to know more, but their voices faded as they moved to another room. I sat there, frozen, my mind racing.
What had Peter not told me? And what was this “truth” about our first child?
A thoughtful woman in her living room | Source: Midjourney
I stood up, my legs shaky, and called Peter into the kitchen. He came in, looking confused. I could barely keep my voice steady.
“Peter,” I whispered, “what is this about our first baby? What haven’t you told me?”
His face turned pale, his eyes widening in panic. For a moment, he didn’t say anything. Then, he sighed heavily and sat down, burying his face in his hands.
A tired man in his kitchen | Source: Pexels
“There’s something you don’t know,” Peter looked up at me, guilt written all over his face. He opened his mouth to speak, but hesitated, his eyes darting to the floor. “When you gave birth to our first…” He paused, taking a deep breath. “My family… they pressured me to get a paternity test.”
I stared at him, trying to process what he had just said. “A paternity test?” I repeated slowly, as if saying it out loud would help me understand. “Why? Why would they—?”
A shocked woman in her kitchen | Source: Midjourney
“They thought… the timing was too close to when you ended your last relationship,” he said, his voice breaking. “And the red hair… They said the baby couldn’t be mine.”
I blinked, my head spinning. “So you took a test? Behind my back?”
Peter stood up, his hands shaking. “It wasn’t because I didn’t trust you! I never doubted you,” he said quickly. “But my family wouldn’t let it go. They were convinced something wasn’t right. They kept pushing me. I didn’t know how to make it stop.”
A shocked man looking up | Source: Pexels
“And what did the test say, Peter?” I asked, my voice rising. “What did it say?”
He swallowed hard, his eyes filled with regret. “It said… it said I wasn’t the father.”
The room felt like it was closing in on me. “What?” I whispered, struggling to breathe. “I never cheated on you! How could that—”
An upset woman in her kitchen | Source: Midjourney
Peter stepped closer, desperate to explain. “It didn’t make sense to me, either. I know the baby is mine in every way that matters. But the test… it came back negative. My family didn’t believe me when I told them it was positive. I had to confess.”
I pulled away from him, my whole body shaking. “And you’ve believed it, too? For years? And you didn’t tell me? It has to be wrong!” I cried, feeling like the ground had disappeared beneath my feet. “We have to get another test! We have to—”
A heartbroken woman at her table | Source: Midjourney
Peter’s face crumpled as he reached for my hands, but I pulled them back. “How come you don’t see it?” he said, looking deep into my eyes. “The timing… We started dating so soon after you broke up with your ex. You must’ve fallen pregnant without even realizing it. The test didn’t change how I felt about you or our son. I didn’t care if he was mine. I wanted to be with you, so I accepted him readily.”
A sad man on the kitchen floor | Source: Pexels
I shook my head, tears streaming down my face. “You should’ve trusted me,” I said, my voice trembling. “I never even suspected that he wasn’t yours. Why would I? We’ve been raising him together. You’ve been his father. We could’ve handled this together, Peter, but instead, you lied to me. You kept this secret while I was living in the dark.”
“I know,” Peter whispered, his eyes filled with regret. “I was scared. But I wanted a family with you more than anything. My parents wouldn’t let it go, but I didn’t want you to think I doubted you. I never doubted you.”
A regretful man | Source: Midjourney
I took a step back, feeling like I couldn’t breathe. “I need some air.”
Peter reached out, but I turned away, walking out of the kitchen and into the cool night. The air hit my face, but it did nothing to calm the storm inside me. How could he have done this? I thought about our son, how Peter had held him when he was born, how he’d loved him. None of that made sense with what he just told me. I felt betrayed, lost.
A crying woman | Source: Pexels
For a few minutes, I stood there, staring at the stars, trying to piece it all together. As much as I wanted to scream, to cry, I also knew Peter wasn’t a bad person. He was scared. His family had pushed him into this, and he’d made a terrible mistake by hiding it from me. But he’d still stayed by my side, by our son’s side, all these years. He had lied, but not out of cruelty.
A woman on her porch | Source: Midjourney
I wiped the tears from my eyes and took a deep breath. I had to go back inside. We couldn’t leave things like this. Not with our family on the line.
When I walked back into the kitchen, Peter was sitting at the table, his face buried in his hands again. He looked up when he heard me, his eyes red and swollen.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I’m so sorry.”
A sad man sitting at the table | Source: Pexels
I took a deep breath and nodded. It would take time for me to fully heal from this, but I knew we couldn’t throw away everything we’d built. We had a family, and despite all of this, I still loved him.
“We’ll figure it out,” I whispered. “Together.”
This work is inspired by real events and people, but it has been fictionalized for creative purposes. Names, characters, and details have been changed to protect privacy and enhance the narrative. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
The author and publisher make no claims to the accuracy of events or the portrayal of characters and are not liable for any misinterpretation. This story is provided “as is,” and any opinions expressed are those of the characters and do not reflect the views of the author or publisher.
Leave a Reply