When Emma fell in love with a humble teacher, her parents gave her an ultimatum: choose him or them. On her wedding day, their seats sat empty, but her grandpa stood by her side. At his funeral ten years later, her estranged parents begged for her forgiveness, but not for the reasons she thought.
Growing up in our pristine suburban home, my parents had a running joke about how we’d all live in a grand mansion someday.
A mansion with a formal garden | Source: Pexels
“One day, Emma,” my father would say, adjusting his already-perfect tie in the hallway mirror, “we’ll live in a house so big you’ll need a map to find the kitchen.”
My mother would laugh, the sound like crystal glasses clinking, adding, “And you’ll marry someone who’ll help us get there, won’t you, sweetheart?”
“A prince!” I’d reply when I was a kid. “With a big castle! And lots of horses!”
An excited girl with her hands in the air | Source: Midjourney
I thought it was funny throughout my early childhood. I even used to daydream about my future castle. But by high school, I understood there was nothing funny about it at all.
My parents were relentless. Every decision they made, every friendship they had, and every activity we attended had to advance our social climbing somehow.
Mom vetted my friends based on their parents’ tax brackets! I don’t think I’ll ever forget how she sneered when I brought my classmate Bianca over to work on our science project.
A woman with a disapproving look | Source: Midjourney
“You aren’t friends with that girl, are you?” Mom asked at dinner that evening.
I shrugged. “Bianca’s nice, and she’s one of the top students in class.”
“She’s not good enough for you,” Mom replied sternly. “Those cheap clothes and awful haircut says it all, top student or not.”
A strange feeling churned in my gut when Mom said those words. That was when I truly realized how narrow-minded my parents were.
A teen girl seated at a dinner table | Source: Midjourney
Dad was no better. He networked at my school events instead of watching my performances.
I still remember my leading role in “The Glass Menagerie” senior year. Father spent the entire show in the lobby discussing investment opportunities with the parents of my cast mates.
“Did you see me at all?” I asked him afterward, still in my costume.
“Of course, princess,” he replied, not looking up from his phone. “I heard the applause. Must have been wonderful.”
A man using his phone while his sad teen daughter stands nearby | Source: Midjourney
Then came college and Liam.
“A teacher?” My mother had practically choked on her champagne when I told her about him. “Emma, darling, teachers are wonderful people, but they’re not exactly… well, you know.”
She glanced around our country club as if someone might overhear this shameful secret.
I knew exactly what she meant, and for the first time in my life, I didn’t care.
A woman with a determined look on her face | Source: Midjourney
Liam was different from anyone I’d ever met. While other guys tried to impress me with their parents’ vacation homes or luxury cars, he talked about becoming a teacher with such passion it made his whole face light up.
When he proposed, it wasn’t with an enormous diamond in a fancy restaurant. It was with his grandmother’s ring in the community garden where we’d had our first date.
The stone was small but caught the sunlight in a way that made it look like it held all the stars in the universe.
A diamond ring sparkling in sunlight | Source: Midjourney
“I can’t give you a mansion,” he said, his voice shaking slightly, “but I promise to give you a home filled with love.”
I said yes before he could even finish asking.
My parents’ response was arctic.
“Not that teacher!” my father had spat as though he was talking about some criminal. “How will he provide for you? For us? You’ll be throwing your future in the trash if you marry him!”
A man gesturing angrily during dinner | Source: Midjourney
“He already provides everything I need,” I told them. “He’s kind, he makes me laugh, and he—”
“I forbid it!” Dad interrupted. “If you go through with this, if you marry that teacher…”
“Then we’ll cut you off,” Mom finished, her voice sharp as glass. “Call him right this minute and break up with him, or we’ll disown you. We didn’t invest so much time and effort in your upbringing only for you to throw it all away.”
My jaw dropped.
A woman gasping in disbelief during dinner | Source: Midjourney
“You can’t be serious,” I whispered.
“It’s him or us,” Dad replied, his face like stone.
I’d known my parents might have a hard time accepting Liam, but this? I couldn’t believe they’d make such an impossible demand.
But the hard look on their faces made it clear their decision was final. I knew I had to make a choice, and it broke my heart.
A sad but determined woman | Source: Midjourney
“I’ll send you an invitation to the wedding in case you change your minds,” I said before standing up and walking away.
The wedding was small, intimate, and perfect, except for the two empty seats in the front row. But Grandpa was there, and somehow his presence filled the whole church.
He walked me down the aisle, his steps slow but steady, and his grip on my arm was firm and reassuring.
“You picked the right kind of wealth, kid,” he whispered as he hugged me. “Love matters more than money. Always has, always will.”
A bride hugging her grandfather | Source: Midjourney
Life wasn’t easy after that. Liam’s teaching salary and the money I made from freelancing brought in just enough to make ends meet.
We lived in a tiny apartment where the heat only worked when it felt like it, and the neighbor’s music became our constant soundtrack. But our home was full of laughter, especially after Sophie was born.
She inherited her father’s gentle heart and my stubborn streak, a combination that made me proud daily.
A child looking at a book | Source: Pexels
Grandpa was our rock through it all.
He’d show up with groceries when things were tight, though we never told him about our struggles. He’d sit for hours with Sophie, teaching her card tricks and telling her stories about his childhood.
“You know what real wealth is, sweetheart?” I overheard him telling her once. “It’s having people who love you for exactly who you are.”
An elderly man telling stories to his great-granddaughter | Source: Midjourney
“Like how Mommy and Daddy love me?” Sophie had asked.
“Exactly like that,” he’d replied, his eyes meeting mine across the room. “That’s the kind of rich that lasts forever.”
When Grandpa passed away, it felt like losing my foundation. Standing at his funeral, holding Liam’s hand while Sophie pressed against his leg, I could barely get through the eulogy.
Then I saw them — my parents. They were older but still immaculate and approached me with tears during the reception.
A mature couple at a funeral reception | Source: Midjourney
Mother’s pearls caught the light from the stained glass windows, and Father’s suit probably cost more than our monthly rent.
“Emma, darling,” my mother said, reaching for my hands. “We’ve been such fools. Please, can we try to rebuild our relationship?”
For a moment, my heart soared. Ten years of pain seemed ready to heal until Aunt Claire marched up and pulled me aside.
A woman with a grim look | Source: Midjourney
“Emma, honey, don’t fall for it,” she said, her voice low and urgent as she guided me toward a quiet corner, “your parents’ apology isn’t genuine. They’re only doing it because of the condition in your Grandpa’s will.”
“What condition?”
Aunt Claire pursed her lips. “Dad spent years trying to convince your parents to reconcile with you. They always refused, so he put it in his will. The only way your mom will get her inheritance is if they apologize and make peace with you, otherwise, her share of the money will go to charity.”
A woman whispering to someone | Source: Midjourney
The truth hit me like a physical blow. Even now, after all these years, it is still about the money. The tears in their eyes weren’t for me, or Grandpa. They were for their bank account.
I thanked Aunt Claire for telling me the truth before going to the microphone to give another speech.
“Grandpa taught me what real wealth looks like,” I said, my voice carrying across the hushed room. “It looks like my husband spending extra hours helping struggling students without pay. It looks like my daughter sharing her lunch with a classmate who forgot theirs.”
A serious woman speaking into a microphone | Source: Midjourney
“Real wealth is love given freely and without conditions.” I looked directly at my parents. “Some people never learn that lesson. But I’m grateful to have had someone who showed me the difference between true richness and mere wealth.”
Later that day, I learned that Grandpa had left me a separate inheritance, no strings attached. Enough to ensure Sophie’s college education and ease our constant financial juggling act.
The lawyer also confirmed that my parents would receive nothing. Every penny of their expected inheritance would go to educational charities, supporting students who couldn’t afford college.
A lawyer in an office | Source: Pexels
I couldn’t help but smile, imagining Grandpa’s satisfied grin. He’d found a way to turn their greed into something beautiful.
That night, tucked between Liam and Sophie on our worn but comfortable couch, watching an old movie and sharing a bowl of popcorn, I felt a peace I hadn’t expected.
My parents’ betrayal still hurt, but it was a distant ache now, overshadowed by the warmth of the family I’d chosen and built.
“Mom,” Sophie asked, snuggling closer, “tell me another story about Great-Grandpa?”
A woman snuggling her daughter | Source: Midjourney
“Well, sweetie,” I said, catching Liam’s loving glance over her head, “let me tell you about the time he taught me what real wealth means…”
Looking at my daughter’s eager face and my husband’s gentle smile, I knew I’d never regret choosing love over money. After all, I was the richest person I knew.
Here’s another story:After losing my wife, my family stopped visiting me altogether, but the neighborhood children became my comfort with their frequent visits. Once I got tired of being neglected by my own family, I decided to make them see the error of their ways.
This work is inspired by real events and people, but it has been fictionalized for creative purposes. Names, characters, and details have been changed to protect privacy and enhance the narrative. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
The author and publisher make no claims to the accuracy of events or the portrayal of characters and are not liable for any misinterpretation. This story is provided “as is,” and any opinions expressed are those of the characters and do not reflect the views of the author or publisher.
I’m 18 and obsessed with using sunbeds… but people online are saying I look “burnt to a crisp.”
Megan Blain, an 18-year-old who’s hooked on sunbeds, says she won’t stop tanning, even though online trolls are constantly insulting her. They’ve compared her skin to a “dirty 2p coin,” but she feels stuck in a tanning habit she can’t break.
Megan, from Seaham, County Durham, started using sunbeds at 16 to keep a tan all year. She ditched fake tan products for daily sunbed sessions and even began using tanning injections to get a darker glow. Although she didn’t know much about the risks, she spent up to 30 minutes on sunbeds, sometimes using baby oil to boost the effect.
Teenager Megan Blain, 18, has admitted to being addicted to sunbeds, despite facing harsh criticism online and noticing concerning changes to her skin
Megan said, “I liked how I looked with a tan. I wear bright colors, and the tan made them stand out more. Once I saw how good it looked, I started going to the sunbeds more often.”
But her intense tanning routine has raised health concerns. Megan now admits she’s addicted and has tried to cut back on sunbed use.
She also says the tanning injections make her feel sick, and she’s noticed a strange patch on her skin that changes size. Even though she’s scared it could be cancer, she hasn’t stopped tanning yet. Megan has tried to go to the doctor several times but gets too nervous to go inside.
“I’m the type of person who worries about everything, so it’s strange that I’m not more worried about this patch. I know it could be melanoma, but I still use sunbeds, which shows it’s an addiction. I never feel dark enough,” she explained.
She says she’s stuck in a cycle of overusing sunbeds and taking injections that make her feel sick and unable to eat. She used to go every day, but now she goes about four times a week.
Despite getting negative attention from strangers, with some saying she looks like a “burnt chip” or a “cremated” version of herself, Megan still can’t imagine life without tanning beds.
Megan said, “Everywhere I go, people stare at me. When they say I’m dark, I don’t believe them. I don’t feel dark at all, like I can’t see it myself.”
She admits she wants to stop using sunbeds one day, but she can’t imagine quitting. “I wouldn’t recommend this to anyone because you could get addicted without even realizing it, like I did,” she warned.
Megan has tried to cut down, now only using sunbeds four times a week, and she’s using her TikTok platform to warn younger people about the dangers of sunbed addiction. She’s especially worried because more young people seem to be using sunbeds than older ones, and she knows how easy it is to get hooked.
However, Megan has also faced online trolls who make fun of her tan. Some compare her to “burnt chips” or say her skin looks like a dirty “2p coin.” One person even asked if the sunbeds “cremated” her.
While Megan’s views on tanning have changed, she still struggles to break her habit of using UV lights.
Megan said, “After two years, I’ve changed my mind about sunbeds. If I could go back, I’d never start. Now, it’s not even about wanting to be tan anymore—I just feel like I have to use them.”
She explained that once she’s on the sunbed, it’s hard to turn it off. “I don’t even like using them anymore, I actually dread it, but I feel like I physically can’t stop.”
Another tanning addict, Fionnghuala Maguire, 35, from Belfast, shared her story, saying she feels “lucky to be alive” after using sunbeds almost every day for 15 years. She started at 14 and never used sunscreen during that time. Fionnghuala is now warning others not to make the same mistake, having been hooked on tanning and going to salons up to seven days a week at the height of her addiction.
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