My parents never wanted a daughter. I spent years trying to earn their love, but it was never enough. When I married Jordan, they finally showed affection—but only for him.
After months of trying for a baby, I learned I was infertile. IVF was possible, but when my parents found out, they called me a failure. Jordan agreed. He grew distant, then left me—with divorce papers and my parents at his side in court.
I lost everything. But I rebuilt. Through therapy, hard work, and IVF with a donor, I had my daughter—Hope. She became my strength and joy.
One day, I ran into Jordan and my parents. They wanted to reconnect. I told them, “You don’t deserve to know her. Or me.” And I walked away.
Because family isn’t blood. It’s love, and the courage to protect it.
