My name is Valentine, Im 17 and I come from Marseille. I kept this story hidden for years, but now Im ready to share it, hoping someone might see themselves in it, reconsider their actions, or at least make a mother think twice before betraying her own child the way mine did.
My parents split when I was ten. It would be unfair to call our family happy before thatarguments, blame, and a growing distance were always present even when I couldnt understand everything. After the divorce things got worse. My mother and father seemed to battle over my attention, not out of love but out of duty. I was shuffled from one apartment to another, like a suitcase with no clear destination. My fathers place was small but calm; my mothers 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. He was in his thirties, about ten years younger than my mother, and he immediately 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 quickly disappeared. He didnt want me living with my mother. He resented the money she spent on me. He openly declared my father irresponsible, called me a burden, and told my mother I should already be walking on my own.
Christian manipulated my mother, extracting money from her and convincing her she didnt need a teenage daughter, that she needed freedom and selfcare. My mother listened. She stopped noticing my nightly tears, the way I silently gathered my books in the kitchen to avoid crossing their path, the hours I hid in the bathroom just to sit in silence.
The final straw came one night when I heard them arguing again. Their shouts made the windows tremble. I left my room and stepped between them, trying to protect my motherI feared he would hit her. Instead, he glared at me with such fury that my heart seized. I shouted, Enough! Dont yell at her! and he struck mea hard, crushing blow to the face that sent me crashing into a wardrobe corner. Everything blurred. I only recall my mothers scream and then silence.
I expected him to leave, for my mother to usher him out, hold me, call a doctor, and tell me how much she loved me. I stared 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 belongings in silence, my heart torn from its roots. I didnt cry. I didnt scream. I simply walked away, realizing I no longer had a home.
Now I stay with my father. He does what he can, but we lack the closeness I desperately yearned for with my mother as a child. I no longer expect her to call, to apologize, or to come back. Deep down, Im still that little girl waiting for her mother to open the door and say, Forgive me, my child. That moment will never arrive. She chose a manshe chose him, the one who struck his own child.
I bear no ill will toward her, yet I know that one day he will leave her. Hell find someone younger, prettier, more compliant, and shell be left alone. Perhaps then shell remember me, but I will no longer be the one who forgives everything. A mothers betrayal is a wound that never heals.
I tell every parent this: do not bring children into the world unless you are ready to be there for them, unless you can place them above your romantic dramas. We children are not responsible for the choices of your heart. We didnt ask to be born, but if you decided to give us lifedo not betray us.
Mom, if you ever read this know that I survived. I got back on my feet. I am strong. But I will never come to you crying as I once did. You are no longer my mother; you are merely a woman who once gave me life.
My Mother Chose a Stranger Over Me: How She Betrayed Me for an Outsider
