When Christopher’s parents learned about his dreams of joining a fashion internship, they were dead set against his decision. They tried to persuade him otherwise and eventually kicked him out, not knowing the tables would be turned years later.
Christopher’s mother, beamed as she checked the college acceptance letters that had arrived for her son. Besides Dartmouth and Georgetown, Christopher had also made it to Stanford.
She couldn’t help but call out to her husband excitedly, and the parents rushed upstairs to their son’s room to make the big announcement. “Son! You got into Stanford! You did it!” his mother exclaimed.
“My boy! A Stanford man! I’m so proud of you!” his stoic father smiled as he hugged him tightly.
“Wait, guys!” Christopher tried to interject, but they weren’t listening. He should’ve guessed something was wrong when his parents, who weren’t the most affectionate or emotional people in the world, just barged into his room with smiles.
“Let’s call your grandparents! They’ll be so happy! Oh! And let’s plan a party!” Christopher’s mother went on as she joined her husband and son.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Pexels
“Stop, Mom!” Christopher snapped. “Please stop!”
“What’s wrong, son?” his mother frowned, pulling away.
“You’re wrong!” Christopher screamed, pulling away from his father. “I’M NOT GOING TO STANFORD!”
“But son, Stanford is our family legacy. All men have to go there,” his father added while his mother nodded in agreement.
“Guys, stop! Stop acting like I’m not here! I’m not going to Stanford or any of those stupid schools! Alright?”
“Chris!” his mother warned.
“No, Mom, let me speak. I tried to tell you, but you shut me down,” Christopher continued, reaching for the papers on his bed. “This…I’m going to New York. I got a fashion internship.”
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Pexels
Richard face drained of blood, and his wife’s eyes bulged out in horror. “Fashion?! You must be out of your mind, boy!” h
“Dad, c’mon, you sell clothes! You should understand me!” Christopher tried explaining his dreams to them, but his parents turned a deaf ear to him.
“Well, I don’t make clothes, son! Or worse, design them! I own the business. I’m not going to spend my money on your stupid dream! You just proved we were failures as parents! You gotta leave! You’re worthless to me!” he said and walked away.
Christopher looked at his mother and held her hands. “Mom, it’s my dream. I need your help to convince Dad!” he pleaded with her.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Pexels
But his mother pulled her hand away and shook her head. “Our dream for you was Stanford, son. Sorry, but you need to leave this house.”
Those words stung Christopher, and he could hear his mother’s cry from his bedroom. But he was not going to give up on his dreams. So he packed his bags, called his friend Johnny, and left.
Christopher had decided that he would fly to New York with Johnny once he graduated high school. And that’s what he did.
Johnny’s parents took him in after he was kicked out of his home. And a couple of months later, after the boys graduated high school, they flew to New York.
Johnny was attending NYU while working at his uncle’s brokerage firm, and Christopher received a small stipend for his fashion internship but worked nights at a 24-hour market to pay the rest of his bills.
Christopher hadn’t heard from his parents since the day they kicked him out. In fact, they didn’t even come to his graduation or to see him off at the airport.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Pexels
Things got tough for him ever since he had left home, and it was only after arriving in New York that he realized the path to his dreams was not going to be all roses.
There was a final project for his internship, a chance to show a small line to big design houses, but the materials and fabrics were costly, and Christopher realized he couldn’t afford his vision. So he called his father to ask for help.
“What do you want?” Richard angrily asked, answering the phone. The man didn’t even bother asking his son how he was doing.
“Hey, Dad,” Christopher said timidly. “I need your help. Actually, there’s a big opportunity coming up for me.”
“On what? To choose different kinds of pink?” his father said sarcastically.
“No, it’s not that,” Christopher explained that he would get a job instantly if they liked his project at the internship, and they would also fund his future education.
But Richard’s tone remained stiff. “So why are you telling me this?” he sneered, and Christopher could imagine his father rolling his eyes.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Pexels
“I need some money,” Christopher said, getting to the point. He was embarrassed but didn’t have a choice. “And it won’t be a handout. I’ll pay you back. The thing is, I can’t miss this chance. It might set me up for life.”
“Well, you’re an adult now, and you make your own choices. Deal with it. You should have gone to Stanford,” his father said heartlessly and hung up.
Christopher hadn’t cried months ago when his parents kicked him out, but he couldn’t contain his emotions any longer. He buried his face in the table before him and sobbed so heavily that Johnny came in.
“Hey, man, it’s OK,” he consoled Christopher and grabbed a chair. It took a few minutes for Christopher to calm down and narrate what had just happened.
“Why don’t you borrow some money from me?” Johnny suggested, but Christopher refused. He already owed their flat’s deposit to him.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Pexels
“Is there any chance you could take a break? Like when you defer a class?” Johnny suggested. He noticed Christopher looked unsure. “Look, you could ask them, and hey, I have a spot at my uncle’s firm. You could take that job, make enough money, and finish your internship.”
Christopher never wanted to work in an office. He had aspired to become a fashion designer. But then Johnny explained to him that if he performed well at the job, his uncle’s firm would pay for his school.
Christopher was always good with numbers, and the money was tight, so he accepted the offer. “I think that’ll work,” he nodded nervously.
“Cheer up, dude! You’ll be back in fashion in no time,” Johnny encouraged him, and Christopher nodded, telling himself that he would make his own money. He didn’t need his dad’s help.
Ten years later, things changed. Richard couldn’t bring himself to look at the papers piled on his desk. He had to make a decision on whether to file for Chapter 13 or sell his company.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Pexels
Richard could try to start over, but he didn’t want another defeat. He failed miserably as a father when Christopher refused to join Stanford to pursue fashion.
“I’m going to toss a coin! Let destiny pick,” the older man thought and nodded, hurling away the papers on his desk in frustration. Right then, his secretary barged into his office.
“Richard, I found something!” she said and placed a document on his desk, pointing her finger at a name in the papers.
Richard’s eyes widened in shock. “Is this…But that’s impossible,” he muttered, reading more. Richard couldn’t believe his son’s name was included in the buyer profiles.
“I made some calls and confirmed it, sir. It might be a sign from the universe,” she said. “He has a stellar reputation. He worked for a brokerage firm and climbed the ladder quicker than most people. He also bought other struggling businesses and expanded in clothes, accessories, and much more. I think it’s worth trying.”
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Pexels
Richard smiled and even let out a chuckle. His son was a real businessman, not a failed designer surviving on ramen in a dirty studio apartment. He decided he would sell the company to his son.
A few days later, Richard walked into his company’s conference room wearing a wide grin on his face. He confidently shook hands with everyone and smiled at his son.
Christopher sat surrounded by his lawyers. The negotiations had already taken place, and all that was left was signing papers. After that, the company would officially be his.
“Don’t be so serious, son. Your mother is outside. Let’s celebrate after we wrap this up,” Richard told his son, but Christopher didn’t accept the invitation.
His parents had refused to help when he needed it the most. It was Johnny who helped him get the job at the brokerage firm, and Christopher was so good that he quickly climbed to the top. But Christopher couldn’t return to fashion or the internship.
After Johnny moved out, Christopher had to keep working hard to afford living expenses, and his dreams of becoming a fashion designer disappeared. But when a deal with a clothes company came up, he saw a chance and took it.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Pexels
The company grew so much that Christopher expanded it. And he also offered scholarships and internship programs to fashion students, healing his past wounds and somewhat fulfilling his dreams.
“Mrs. Pattison,” Christopher called his father’s secretary after signing the papers, ignoring his father. “Richard should leave the building. And yes, this applies to his wife too.”
“What the hell are you doing?” Richard jumped to his feet in anger.
“Please be quick, or I’ll be forced to call security,” he told Mrs. Pattison, looking his father in the eyes. “I have no interest in going to dinner with you two! But yes, I do want to know one thing…Am I worthy enough now?”
Richard’s eyes were red in anger, but he nodded and walked away, escorted by security guards.
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My MIL Called Me Ungrateful for Not Eating Food She Cooked While I Was on a Pre-Surgery Diet, and My Husband Backed Her Up
When Mel has surgery scheduled, she has no choice but to follow a strict diet in preparation. But one day, her mother-in-law shows up, ready to cook up a storm and disrespect Mel’s new regime. Soon, tempers flare…
My husband, Dave, and I have always had a solid relationship. Sure, like most couples, there are ups and downs, but we handle them pretty well in general.
A smiling couple | Source: Midjourney
Except when it comes to his mom, Margaret.
Margaret has a knack for inserting herself into our lives, often under the pretense of being helpful. She’ll just drop by unannounced, often claiming to be worried about how I’m taking care of her son.
“Mel, it’s just my mom’s way of showing her love,” Dave would say, dismissing it all. “She’s always been so dramatic, and that’s just one of those things.”
A smiling older woman | Source: Midjourney
But to me, it just felt invasive.
Recently, things took quite a turn for the worse. I have a chronic condition that requires surgery on my spine. As a result, my doctor has put me on a strict pre-surgery diet.
“It’s not going to be great, Mel,” he told me when I went for my last check-up. “But it’s necessary, I promise you. We need you to cut down on your body weight so that after the surgery, the stress on your spine will be less.”
A woman sitting at a doctor’s office | Source: Midjourney
I understood the assignment, and I was committed to my health.
“Look, honey,” I told Dave when I went home after my appointment. “You don’t have to change your diet at all. I’ll still get you everything you want to eat, and cook what you want, too. But there’s a bunch of food that I have to avoid.”
A couple standing in a kitchen | Source: Midjourney
“No,” my husband reassured me. “I’ll do it with you. Just put the list of forbidden items on the fridge, and I’ll know what to avoid.”
I had to admit, I was surprised by Dave. This man loved his fried food. The greasier the better when it came to my husband’s diet. But this change was good for both of us, and I loved that he was being supportive.
Notes on a fridge | Source: Midjourney
So, we began diligently avoiding sugar, limiting carbs, and eating lots of greens and lean proteins. It was quite a lifestyle change, because now I had to be strict about everything I put into my mouth. But I knew that it was going to be worth it in the end.
But then, Margaret turned up like a storm about the disrupt our peace.
Last weekend, as I was reading in our home office, Margaret showed up with bags full of groceries.
A person holding a grocery bag | Source: Midjourney
Without even asking, she started preparing Dave’s favorite meal: fried chicken, mashed potatoes drenched in butter, and a decadent chocolate cake.
“Do you need any help?” I asked her when I realized that she was about to cook up a storm.
“No, darling,” she said. “You go and relax; I’m fine here.”
An older woman cooking | Source: Midjourney
So, I let her take over the kitchen. The aroma filled the house, and I felt my stomach rumble. But I knew that I couldn’t eat any of it. On one hand, I felt that Margaret was being inappropriate, but on the other hand, I was glad that Dave was getting some good food that he enjoyed.
When dinner was ready, I politely declined.
A plate of fried chicken | Source: Midjourney
“I’m really sorry, Margaret,” I began while taking out my salad greens and leftover grilled chicken from the fridge.
“What are you doing?” she asked, looking at the food that I laid out on the counter, ready to make myself dinner.
“There’s more than enough food, Mel. You don’t need to make more,” she huffed.
A woman looking into a fridge | Source: Midjourney
“I’m just making my dinner,” I said slowly. “As incredible as your meal smells and looks, I can’t eat any of it. I’m on a strict diet for my surgery. I cannot afford to have any slip-ups.”
Instead of understanding the situation like any rational person, my mother-in-law’s face twisted in displeasure.
An angry older woman | Source: Midjourney
“Oh, come on, Mel,” she said. “I worked really hard on this meal. Just a little won’t hurt.”
“I appreciate it, and I’m so grateful that you’re here and that you cooked this meal for Dave, but I just cannot risk it. This surgery is too important,” I insisted.
Cue the meltdown.
A close-up of an expressionless woman | Source: Midjourney
She started muttering under her breath about how ungrateful I was, making a big show of serving Dave a heaping plate of food. I felt a knot form in my stomach, not from hunger, but from the tension.
Then, she turned to Dave.
“Isn’t it a shame? I go through all this trouble, and she can’t even try a bite of it.”
A plate of food | Source: Midjourney
I looked at my husband, expecting him to defend me. Instead, he shrugged and put a forkful of mashed potato into his mouth.
“Maybe just have a small bite, honey,” he said with his mouth full. “Just be polite. Have a piece of chicken and some mash.”
I couldn’t believe it. He was the person who didn’t mind changing up his diet and his routine because he wanted to support me. What was this? What was this change of behavior?
A man eating at the table | Source: Midjourney
“Dave, you know I can’t. It’s not just about being polite. It’s about my health. You know I only have a few weeks to get ready.”
Margaret’s eyes narrowed as she picked up a plate for herself.
“It’s just one meal, Melissa. I don’t see what the big deal is. Is that really how you speak to my son? And you’re making me feel like my food isn’t good enough for you.”
A close-up of an older woman | Source: Midjourney
“That’s not it at all, Margaret,” I said, trying to keep my voice calm. “I’m sure the food is delicious as always, but I need to be strict here. I cannot afford any setbacks. This is my spine we’re talking about!”
“Oh, please,” she scoffed. “You’re just being overly dramatic. People have been eating real food like this for centuries without all these modern health scares.”
I could feel the heat rise in my blood. My anger was building, and so was my disappointment.
A close-up of an angry woman | Source: Midjourney
But before things could escalate further, the doorbell rang.
It was George, my father-in-law, dropping by to pick up some tools. He walked into the kitchen just as Margaret was going on about how I was “too good” for her cooking.
George surveyed the scene quickly and then looked directly at Margaret.
A smiling older man | Source: Midjourney
“Margaret, you know she’s on a diet for her surgery. This isn’t about politeness or niceties. It’s about Mel’s health. She has been trying to sort out her spine issues for years now, Marg, you know this,” he said. “You need to respect that.”
Margaret opened her mouth to argue, but George didn’t give her a chance.
“If you can’t respect their boundaries, maybe you should stop coming over unannounced.”
An older woman holding her head | Source: Midjourney
I was stunned.
George had never intervened in these situations before, and to see him take such a strong stance was both surprising and incredibly comforting.
Margaret stormed out of the dining room, clearly upset, but George stayed behind.
An upset woman storming out | Source: Midjourney
“Oh, gosh,” my husband muttered, putting his piece of chicken down as he pushed his chair back to run after his mother.
George turned to me with a kind smile.
“You did the right thing. Don’t worry about Margaret; she’ll come around,” he said. “Your health is so important.”
A smiling older man | Source: Midjourney
Dave came running back in, looking thoroughly chastened.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I shouldn’t have said anything or tried to force you to eat any of this. I just didn’t want to upset Mom, but I realize now that I should have supported you.”
George nodded approvingly.
A man sitting at a table and holding his head | Source: Midjourney
“You’re right, Dave. This is your family, and you need to prioritize your wife’s well-being.”
“Please, you two carry on eating,” I said, returning to the kitchen. “I’m going to make some salad.”
A salad with grilled chicken on a counter | Source: Midjourney
While I was in the kitchen, I saw Margaret sitting on the bench outside. I could have gone to her, but I hated the way she had spoken to me.
Later, after the three of us had eaten, George took Margaret home.
An older woman outside | Source: Midjourney
As we got into bed, Dave apologized to me again and promised to be more supportive in the future.
It felt good to clear the air, but I couldn’t shake the feeling of unease. Before they left, Margaret had just walked past us, not even saying goodbye.
Anyway, I still had bigger things to worry about. My surgery was more important.
A couple sitting in bed together | Source: Midjourney
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