A Bold Choice
When I was seventeen, I found the courage to tell my parents something I had been thinking about for a long time: I didn’t want to go to medical school. I wanted to follow my dreams of acting and maybe even start my own business one day.
My dad reacted dramatically, throwing his hands up in disbelief. “You think this is some kind of joke? We’re doctors, son. It’s in our blood. It’s who we are!”
“But Dad, it’s not who I am,” I said, my voice shaky and my heart racing. “I don’t want that life.”
I hoped they would calm down, but my father just shook his head, looking as stern as a statue. “Then leave. If you can’t carry on this family’s legacy, you don’t belong here.”
Just like that, I was cut out of my own family. I walked away with a single bag of clothes, a hundred bucks, and a whirlwind of questions about my future. I started couch-surfing and took any small job I could find to keep going.
Finding acting gigs was tough. They didn’t come often, but I was determined. I hustled, working late nights and juggling projects while also trying to start a little business on the side. Those first days were hard—no family support and a constant battle to make ends meet. Meanwhile, my parents moved to the UK, sending my siblings off to medical school.
My older brother became the family’s pride and joy—a neurosurgeon who even specialized in complicated surgeries, like removing spinal tumors. He won awards, and my family couldn’t stop talking about him. I became the son they never discussed; the one who had “failed,” the one who dared to break away.
When my parents announced they were coming back to Sydney, I didn’t expect much. Sure, they’d call occasionally, asking the usual things like, “How are you?” or “What have you been up to?” But they never really wanted to hear the details of my life.
They were always focused on my brother, especially after he received a fantastic job offer that would pay him $750,000 a year! I could only imagine their pride.
Then came the house-hunting phase. As they started looking for a home, the reality of Sydney’s crazy real estate market hit them hard. The neighborhoods they liked? Houses started at around $20 million!
After searching all day, my dad finally sighed, looking defeated. “It seems we’ll have to settle for something smaller,” he said, his shoulders slumping a little. “Or wait for a better market.”
“Hey, why don’t you come see my place before dinner?” I suggested, trying to keep my tone light and easy. “It’s nearby.”
“Your place?” My dad sounded surprised.
“Of course! You’d love to see where I’m living,” I replied, feeling a thrill of excitement at the idea.
When we pulled up to my house—a sleek, modern property hidden away on a quiet lot—they looked stunned. Their faces went blank.
“This is your place?” my dad asked, disbelief dripping from his words.
“Yep!” I grinned, opening the front gate. I watched as their eyes darted around the neatly kept lawn, the custom landscaping, and the shimmering pool in the backyard.
Inside, it was all polished hardwood floors, big windows letting in sunlight, and stylish furniture that I had chosen myself.
“How much… how much do you pay to rent a room here?” my mother asked, her voice filled with awe and a hint of disbelief.
I couldn’t hold back a laugh. “Rent? I don’t rent here, Mom. I actually own it.”
They stood there, wordless, letting that sink in.
“This is how you’ve been living?” my mother hissed, her eyes wide as they scanned the sparkling pool visible through the floor-to-ceiling glass wall. “And you… what, just kept it all a secret? You lied to us all these years?”
“Lied to you?” I couldn’t believe her words. “You never even asked what I was doing! As far as you knew, I was living in a tiny, cramped apartment. You didn’t care. Why do you care now?”
“Don’t twist this around!” my father shouted, waving his arm at the place. “This… this is just a show, isn’t it? A way to rub your probably illegal wealth in our faces?”
I rolled my eyes, fighting back a scoff. “Really, Dad? You think I went into some shady business? No, I’ve worked hard in the banking world. Not that you’d know, because you never once asked!”
“Well, clearly you have the means,” my mother said quietly, her tone softer now as if trying to smooth things over.
“So, we’ll stay with you. Not your brother. We can’t be seen living in a worse place than our own son,” she added with a hint of desperation.
I couldn’t help but let out a laugh—a genuine, hearty laugh. “You think you can just waltz back into my life, judge me, accuse me of who knows what, and then ask to live in my home? After seventeen years of silence?”
“You’re our son!” my dad insisted, as if that one statement explained everything. “We did support you as much as we could.”
I tilted my head, looking straight at them. “You chose to support my siblings, not me. When I needed help, you turned your back. That was your choice.” I let the silence stretch out for a moment. “Honestly, you’d have a better chance of living with my neighbors than with me.”
My father’s expression darkened. “Fine,” he said slowly, as if every word was a struggle. “Then you’re out. We’ll cut you out of the will. Not a single cent.”
“Oh, no,” I responded, deadpan. “What will I do without the inheritance from people who can’t even keep up with my lifestyle?”
My mom broke the heavy silence. “We… we just wanted the best for you.”
I looked her straight in the eye and said, “No, you wanted what was best for you. You wanted another doctor in the family, someone to carry on your legacy. But you know what? I built my own.”
My dad sneered at me. “Is that so? Well, don’t come crying to us when this little charade of yours falls apart. You’ll regret pushing us away like this.”
“Pushing you away?” I repeated, shaking my head in disbelief. “You pushed me away seventeen years ago. I’m just holding the line now.”
I walked to the door, standing tall and opening it wide. My parents stared at me, shocked, my mom’s mouth opening and closing as if she still wanted to argue. But finally, they stepped out onto the porch.
“You’re making a mistake,” my dad warned, his voice low and filled with anger. “You’re going to regret this.”
I held his stare without flinching. “No,” I replied firmly. “I already made peace with it.”
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