My father and mother divorced when I was just born. Not long after, my father started a new family. My mother and I moved in with my maternal grandmother. Growing up, I was often mocked by classmates who asked where my father went. I understood the answer early on and never questioned my mother about him.

Years later, my father and his wife did not have children, so whenever he had time, he would visit me and ask about my studies. He never talked about his new life, nor did he ever take me to meet his new wife.

When it was time for me to start high school, our financial situation was difficult, so my grandmother asked my aunt to fund my education. While other children had joyful childhoods, I often felt like a burden to many people.

Because of that, I focused on studying and behaved well to avoid causing anyone any more trouble. When I turned 15, my father began to care for me more. He regularly sent money for my tuition and even planned for me to study abroad to build a better future.

I knew that no matter how much my father and mother both cared for me, they would always remain two pieces that could never fit together. But I accepted reality and found happiness in it.

However, that was short-lived. Just as I was preparing for university entrance exams, my father was diagnosed with terminal cancer. I overheard the phone call when he informed my mother, even though he had instructed her to keep it from me so I could focus on my future.

The day of my high school graduation exams marked exactly 100 days since my father passed away. I pushed through, determined to make him proud.

But after losing his financial support, I had to give up my dream of becoming a doctor and instead chose a field where I could study while working part-time to support myself.

Although my grandmother urged my stepmother to sell all of my father’s assets and give me my share of inheritance, my stepmother had other plans.

She delayed selling my father’s estate and waited until my grandmother passed away before liquidating everything. She even sold the land that served as the family cemetery after its value increased due to rezoning.

What hurt me the most was that she never informed me and I was not there the day my father’s resting place was cleared out.

For years, I persistently tried to reclaim my inheritance, but my stepmother remained silent. The only time she ever responded to me, she told me she had donated all the money she got from selling my father’s assets.

Hearing that, my heart grew unbearably heavy, and I finally understood why people say that few stepmothers truly care for their husband’s children.

*This opinion was translated into English with the assistance of AI. Readers’ views are personal and do not necessarily match VnExpress’ viewpoints.