My name is Valentine, Im 17 and I come from Marseille. I kept this experience hidden for years, but now Im ready to share it. Perhaps someone will see themselves in it, or a person will rethink their actions. Maybe at least one mother will think twice before betraying her own daughter, as mine did.
My parents split when I was ten. I cant say we ever formed a happy familyarguments, accusations and a growing distance were always present, even when I didnt understand everything. After the divorce things got worse. My mother and father seemed to compete for my attention, not out of love but out of duty. I was shuffled from one apartment to another, like a suitcase with no purpose. My fathers place was cramped but calm; my mothers house was spacious, yet the atmosphere grew increasingly suffocating each year.
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 ruled the household, treating me as an inconvenience. At first he wore a polite smile, pretending to care about me, but the façade quickly fell. He didnt want me living with my mother, didnt like her spending money on me, and didnt hesitate to publicly label my father irresponsible, call me a burden, and say I should already be walking my own path.
He manipulated my mother, extracting money from her, convincing her that she didnt need an adolescent 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 just to avoid crossing their paths, or how I locked myself in the bathroom for an hour just to sit in silence.
The final straw came one night when I heard them arguing again. Their screams made the windows shudder. I left my room and stepped between them, trying to protect my motherI feared he would strike her. Instead, he fixed his angry gaze on me, and my heart clenched. I shouted, Enough! Stop yelling at her! and he immediately delivered a hard, solid blow to my face. I fell, crashing into the corner of a cabinet. Everything blurred. I only recall my mothers scream and then silence.
I expected him to leave, for my mother to throw him out, hug me, call a doctor and tell me how much she loved me. I searched her eyes for that hopeful rescue. Instead 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 ripped from its roots. I didnt cry, I didnt scream; I simply left, realizing I no longer had a home.
Now I live with my father. He does his best, but we lack the closeness I desperately sought from my mother during my childhood. I no longer hope she will call, apologize, or visit. 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 come. She chose a manhim, the one who struck his own child.
I bear no ill will toward her, yet I know one day he will leave her for someone younger, prettier, more compliant. Hell abandon her, and perhaps then shell remember me. By then I wont be the one who forgives everything, because a mothers betrayal is a wound that never truly heals.
I say this to all parents: do not bring children into the world 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 existencedo 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 again come to you crying, as I once did. You are no longer my mother. You are merely a woman who gave me life once.
My Mother Chose a Stranger Over Me: How She Betrayed Me for Someone Else
