My name is Valentine, Im seventeen and I come from Marseille. I have kept this story hidden for years, but now Im ready to tell it, hoping someone might see themselves in it, or that someone will rethink their actions, or at least that a mother will think twice before betraying her own daughter the way mine did.
My parents split up when I was ten. I cant say we were a happy family beforethere were arguments, accusations, a distance between them that I sensed even when I didnt understand the details. After the divorce things got worse. My mother and father seemed to fight over my attention, not out of love but out of obligation. I was shuffled from one flat to another like an unwanted suitcase. My dads place was cramped but calm; my moms house was spacious, yet every year the atmosphere grew more suffocating.
Everything collapsed when a new man entered my mothers life. His name was Christian, a man in his thirties, almost ten years younger than my mother. He instantly acted as if he owned the household, treating me as a nuisance. At first he wore a polite smile and pretended to care about me, but the façade fell quickly. He didnt want me living with my mother, he resented the money she spent on me, and he didnt shy away from loudly labeling my father irresponsible, calling me a burden, and insisting I should already walk my own path.
He manipulated my mother, draining her money and convincing her that she didnt need a teenage daughter, that she needed freedom and to look after herself. And my mother she listened. She no longer noticed my tears at night, the way I silently gathered my books in the kitchen to avoid crossing their path, the hours I locked myself in the bathroom just to sit in silence.
The final straw came one night when I heard them arguing again. Their shouting made the windows shake. I left my room and stepped between them, trying to protect my motherI feared he would strike her. Instead, he stared at me with such fury that my heart clenched. I shouted, Enough! Stop yelling at her! and he immediately delivered a hard, crushing blow to my face. I fell, hitting the corner of a wardrobe, and everything blurred. I only remember my mother screamingand then silence.
I expected him to leave, that my mother would usher him out, hug me, call a doctor, and tell me how much she loved me. I looked into her eyes, searching for that rescue. She whispered, You ruined everything. An hour later she told me I had to go live with my father.
I packed my things in silence, feeling my roots torn away. I didnt cry. I didnt scream. I simply left, realizing I no longer had a home.
Now I live with my dad. He does what he can, but we lack the closeness I desperately craved from my mother during my childhood. I no longer hope she will call, apologize, or visit. Yet deep inside Im still that little girl waiting for her mother to open the door and say, Forgive me, my daughter. It wont happen. She chose a manhim, the one who hit his own child.
I dont wish her harm, but I know that one day he will leave her for someone younger, prettier, more compliant. Hell abandon her, and perhaps then shell remember me. I will no longer be the one who forgives everything, because a mothers betrayal is a wound that never heals.
I say this to all parents: do not have children if you arent prepared to be there for them, if you cannot place them above your romantic dramas. We children are not responsible for the choices of your heart. We never asked to be born, but if you chose to bring us into the worlddont betray us.
Mom, if you ever read this know that I survived. I got back up. I am strong. But I will never come to you crying like before. You are no longer my mother. You are just a woman who gave birth to me once.
My Mother Chose a Stranger Over Me: How She Betrayed Our Bond for Another Man
