When I was 17, my dad abandoned me and my mom for a younger woman. Worse, he drained our bank accounts, leaving us with nothing—not even enough to keep our home. We lost everything. I watched my mother, once so full of life, break down in ways I never imagined. And him? He never looked back.
swore I’d get even one day. But fate had its own plans.
Years passed. I worked hard, put myself through school, and built a stable life. I didn’t waste time thinking about my father. He was nothing to me. Just a bad memory.
Then, one ordinary day, karma threw me a curveball.
I was rushing to work, late as usual, balancing my coffee and phone when I spotted a disheveled man near the gas station. His clothes were filthy, his hair matted, and he had a cardboard sign in his hands. I wasn’t paying attention—until our eyes met.
It was him.
My father.
For a second, I froze. I could tell by the way his eyes widened that he recognized me too. He looked… embarrassed? Ashamed? Desperate?
“Hey, kid,” he croaked. His voice was weaker than I remembered. “You got a couple bucks to spare?”
I stared at him, my mind spinning. This man had destroyed my life, left me and my mother to suffer, and now… he was the one begging?
I pulled out my wallet, pretending to consider it. His eyes lit up, thinking I’d help.
Instead, I smiled, leaned in, and whispered, “Guess you finally know how it feels to have nothing.”
Then I walked away.