My dad won five million in the lottery.

My friend and I planned to open a shop, but we were short 30,000 dollars.

I asked my family for a loan, but they refused outright.

“You’re an adult. Solve your own problems.”

“Our money doesn’t grow on trees. Why should we let you waste it?”

With no other choice, I took out a high-interest online loan.

Just after the money came through, my cousin posted a photo of his new iPhone 15 Pro on Social Media.

“Thanks to Uncle’s help, I finally get to drive the car I’ve always wanted.”

That was when I learned Uncle William had casually said his son wanted a car, and my dad had transferred him 200,000 dollars.

When I heard there wasn’t even an IOU, my heart went cold.

Ten days later, my mom called and scolded me harshly.

“Ryan Chase, today is your dad’s birthday. Why didn’t you come home?”

“Not even a phone call! What kind of son are you?”

“Even raising a dog would be better than raising you!”

I replied calmly:

“If that’s the case, then just pretend you never raised me.”

——

The moment I finished, my mother exploded.

“Is that something a human would say?! I’m furious! Over twenty years of hard work, and this is the ungrateful thing I raised!”

“We gave birth to you, raised you, fed you, clothed you, sent you to college, and now you think you’re grown?”

“How dare you talk to us like that?” Her voice was sharp, every word poisonous.

“I know, it’s because we didn’t lend you money for your shop, right?”

“What a joke! With how useless you are, you think you can do business?”

“With that little ability, you’ll lose everything after three days!”

“Thirty thousand dollars thrown into water might make a splash, but given to you? You wouldn’t even leave a fart!”

She grew more worked up, her words crueler.

“The money is ours. We can spend it however we want. It’s none of your business!”

“You good-for-nothing, can’t earn money, and still want to take it from the family. Have you no shame?”

“Even if we burn the money or give it away, it’s still better than letting you waste it!”

“You’re not fit for business. Just work honestly and earn a few thousand a month.”

“You may be ambitious, but your life is as fragile as paper. That’s exactly what you are!”

I held the phone, my fingertips freezing, and said nothing.

I heard her heavy breathing, like she might faint from anger, mixed with the sound of her pounding her chest and others trying to calm her.

After a while, someone else took the phone.

“Ryan, this is your Aunt Margaret.”

“Don’t be angry with your mother. She’s doing this for your own good.”

“You, how could you not come back for your father’s birthday?”

“As a family, what can’t we get through?”

“Your parents raised you with great hardship. What will relatives and friends think if they know this?”

“You can’t be so selfish…”

She spoke from her moral high ground, repeating those lofty words like a chant.

I listened quietly until she finally snapped, “Why didn’t you come back? You must have a reason!”

I took a deep breath.

“The reason is simple.”

“My dad casually gave you 200,000 dollars to buy a car, without even an IOU.”

“But I only needed 30,000 dollars to start my business, and he wouldn’t lend me a single cent.”

“Is that reason enough?”

The other end of the line fell silent at once.

A few seconds later, my aunt’s voice turned awkward.

“This… this… was your father’s decision. We really can’t say much…”

“Besides, that money was lent to your cousin. He’ll pay it back later…”

“Pay it back?” I cut her off. “He didn’t even write an IOU. How is he supposed to pay it back? Aunt, put your hand on your heart—do you really believe that?”

She froze, unable to finish a full sentence.

At that moment, my mother grabbed the phone back, anger burning hotter after my words.

“Yes! It was us! So what?”

“It’s our money. We can give it to whoever we want!”

“We’re happy to buy your cousin a car! What right do you have to question me? Who do you think you are?”

“Let me tell you, Ryan, with that attitude, don’t expect a single cent from us ever again!”

“Open a shop? If you lose money later, go sell your blood or kidneys!”

“Just don’t come crying to us!”

“We raised you all these years, and you’ve achieved nothing, yet you’ve learned to argue with your own family?”

“At least your cousin knows how to be grateful. He comes back to see us every holiday.”

“And you? You disappear for half a year, and every call is about money!”

“Do we owe you anything?”

“If I had known you’d turn out like this, I should’ve aborted you back then!”

Hearing this, I suddenly felt like laughing.

When her rant finally slowed, I spoke quietly.

“You’re right.”

“The money is yours. You can give it to whoever you want.”

“I really don’t have the right to interfere.”

I paused, my throat tight, but forced myself to continue.

“In that case, from now on, just pretend you never had me.”

“I’ll disappear on my own. I won’t ask you for a single cent again, and I won’t trouble you anymore.”

A few seconds later, my mother’s furious scream came through the phone.

I didn’t listen anymore and hung up.

The world finally fell silent.

I stared at my phone screen. The 30,000-dollar online loan had arrived.

The interest was high, and the repayment plan was crushing.

This should have been support from my parents, a warm beginning.

Now, it was only debt.

I opened my cousin’s Social Media.

The post showing off his iPhone 15 Pro was still there. In the photo, he sat in the brand-new driver’s seat, hands on the wheel, smiling brightly.

Below were rows of likes and congratulations, with my parents’ accounts clearly visible.

Comments read things like, “We’re family, no need to be formal,” and “My nephew is doing great.”

It was painfully ironic.

Since I was young, my parents have been extremely strict with me.

No talking at the table, proper posture, and always in the top ten in class.

As for pocket money? That didn’t exist.

They said, “What do kids need money for? Just study.”

But every time my cousin visited, my dad would smile and pull out a few bills, stuffing them into his hand.

“Here, Kevin, buy yourself something tasty.”

Then he’d turn to me and say, “You’re the older brother. You should give way to your younger cousin.”

I was eight then. My cousin was six.

In sixth grade, I saved recyclables for three months and sold them to scrape together twenty dollars to buy a set of Curious Minds.

When my mom found out, she not only took the money but also scolded me.

“What’s the use of reading useless books? Do more math problems instead.”

The next day, I saw my cousin running around the living room with a new remote-controlled car, priced at exactly twenty dollars.

In junior high, the school organized a spring trip to an amusement park. The fee was one hundred fifty dollars.

When I got home, I carefully asked my dad. He didn’t even look up.

“What’s the point of going there? It’s a waste of money. Stay home and study this weekend.”

I locked myself in my room until I heard laughter from the living room.

My uncle’s family had arrived, and my dad happily said he would take my cousin to the amusement park next week.

“The tickets are expensive, but that’s fine. Your uncle will take you. We’ll have lots of fun!”

Later, I hid under my blanket and cried.

That was the first time I doubted whether I was really his biological child.

The next day, my mother spoke to me seriously. “We’re strict with you because we expect a lot from you.”

“Your cousin’s family isn’t doing well, so we help them when we can.”

“You’re the older brother. You need to understand.”

She sounded so sincere, her eyes so earnest, that my doubts felt like a sin.

During three years of high school, my monthly allowance was 500 dollars.

At school, it was only enough for the cheapest cafeteria meals, and I was often hungry.

I didn’t dare join any activities that cost money, and I even hesitated for a long time before buying a birthday card for a classmate.

Once, my dad came to visit me at school and saw me eating plain rice with free seaweed soup.

He frowned.

“Why are you eating so badly? You’re growing. You need proper nutrition.”

I thought he would feel sorry for me and give me more money, but instead he said, “It’s good to suffer a bit. It will make you tougher.”

A few days later, I heard my cousin had signed up for piano lessons. The fee was 4,800 dollars.

My dad paid two-thirds of it.

I went to university in another province, thinking I could finally relax.

But my living expenses were still tight—only 800 dollars a month. After phone and internet bills, there was barely enough left for food.

My roommates went out on weekends for dinners, movies, and shopping, having fun together.

I could only make excuses and stay in the library.

Once, I couldn’t refuse and went along. After that, I ate instant noodles for half a month.

During the winter break of my sophomore year, I went to the bathroom one night and heard voices from the bedroom.

“Honey, are we giving Ryan too little for living expenses? Prices are higher now.”

My dad frowned. “Too little? Boys should live frugally.”

“Oh, right. Kevin said yesterday he wants a new phone, so I borrowed 3,000 dollars from you.”

My mom laughed softly. “Of course. That kid has such a sweet mouth. Last time, he even said he’d support us when he earns money.”

I stood outside the door, my hands and feet freezing cold.

After graduating, I was rejected again and again when job hunting.

I called home and carefully asked if they could help ask around.

My dad said flatly, “We don’t have that kind of ability. You have to find your own way.”

“And we won’t spend another cent on you. You’re twenty-two. It’s time to be independent.”

That month, I lived in a tiny small rented room in an City suburb, eating only two steamed buns a day.

I sent out hundreds of resumes and got only three interviews, all of which I turned down.

At my worst, I had only seven dollars and thirty cents left in my account.

Just when I was completely desperate, my cousin updated his Social Media.

He had gotten a job at a local state-owned company with great benefits.

In the photo, he wore a brand-new suit, with a grand office building behind him.

My parents were the first to comment:

“My nephew is amazing!”

“Work hard! Your aunt believes in you!”

Later, I learned my dad had used many connections to get him that job.

An old classmate of his was a leader there. My dad treated him to three dinners, gave him two cartons of good cigarettes and a thick red envelope, and only then got my cousin hired.

I asked my mom why.

She replied casually, “Your cousin didn’t study as well as you. If we don’t help him, who will?”