My name is Valentine, Im 17 and I come from Marseille. I have carried this experience inside me for years, silent and hidden, but now Im ready to share it. Perhaps someone will see themselves in it, maybe a person will rethink their actions, or at least a mother will think twice before betraying her own child the way mine did.
My parents split when I was ten. I cant say we were a happy family beforearguments, blame, and a growing distance were already present even when I didnt fully understand them. 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 a suitcase without a clear purpose. My fathers place was cramped but calm; my mothers house was spacious, yet each 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 immediately acted as if he owned the household, treating me as an inconvenience. At first he wore a polite smile and pretended to be interested in me, but the façade quickly fell. He didnt want me living with my mother, he disliked the money she spent on me, and he openly declared that my father was irresponsible, that I was a burden, and that I should already walk on my own.
He manipulated my mother, extracting money from her, 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 collected my books in the kitchen just to avoid crossing their paths, the hours I hid in the bathroom simply 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 positioned myself between them, hoping to shield my motherI feared he would hit her. Instead, he turned on me with such fury that my heart clenched. I shouted, Enough! Stop yelling at her! and he landed a hard blow to my face, sending me crashing into the corner of a wardrobe. Everything blurred. I only remember my mothers scream and then silence.
I expected him to leave, for my mother to throw him out, to hold me, call a doctor, and tell me how much she loved me. I searched her eyes for a glimmer of rescue. Instead she whispered, Youve 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 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 craved from my mother during my childhood. I no longer wait for her calls, apologies, or visits. Deep down Im still that little girl hoping her mother will 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 dont wish her harm, but I know one day he will leave her for someone younger, prettier, more compliant. He will abandon her, and perhaps then she will remember me. I will no longer be the one who forgives everything, because a mothers betrayal is a wound that never fully heals.
I tell all parents this: dont bring children into the world if youre not ready to be there for them, if you cant place them above your own romantic dramas. We children are not responsible for the choices of your hearts. We never asked to be born, but if you decided to bring us into existencedont 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, like before. You are no longer my mother; you are just a woman who gave me life once.
My Mother Chose a Man Over Me: How She Betrayed Me for a Stranger
