I Became a Burden to My Father after I Lost the Ability to Walk – Story of the Day

I Became a Burden to My Father after I Lost the Ability to Walk – Story of the Day
I was paralyzed and trapped in a wheelchair in an accident, and my father refused to be burdened with me. But then he gets taught an important lesson.

I was 19 when I was run over by a car on my way to work. For me, it was the end of the world: a screech of tires, darkness, and pain. And when I woke up, I heard the voices say I’d never walk again.

I kept asking for my father, but he only showed up three days later, looking the worse for the wear and I knew he’d been on a bender while I’d lain there fighting for my life.

She was injured in a horrible accident | Source: Shutterstock.com

She was injured in a horrible accident | Source: Shutterstock.com

My mother died when I was 12, a victim of breast cancer. I remember her as a sweet, weary woman, always cringing from my father’s cruel words, working to keep food on the table while he drank his paycheck away.

As soon as I turned 14, he ordered me to find a part-time job to help with the bills, and when I was 16, I dropped out of school and started working full time to support myself — and him.

But when my father finally arrived at the hospital to visit me, there was neither compassion nor gratitude in his eyes. The doctor explained that although my spine was not severed there had been severe bruising and compression.

I might — by a long shot — recover my ability to walk, but most likely, I would be in a wheelchair for the rest of my life. And that was when my father walked away. He said to the doctor, “She’s over 18, isn’t she? She’s an adult, right? So she’s not my responsibility anymore. You take her.”

My father was an alcoholic | Source: Unsplash

My father was an alcoholic | Source: Unsplash

I remember my doctor’s horrified expression and my father’s gaze sweeping over my limp legs. “Useless! Useless like your mother!”

Those were the last words I’d hear from him for the next six years. A little while later I was transferred to a recovery center where I was lucky enough to be assigned to a therapist named Carol Hanson.

Family is built on love, not a biological bond, or shared DNA.

She was an older, motherly woman who immediately took me under her wing. Carol was as loving as she was demanding, and she was very demanding. Over the next year, she pushed me towards a recovery I’d never dreamed possible.

The day I stood on my own two feet and took my first step, I cried like a baby, and so did Carol. It was only the beginning, and the next few months I worked even harder, but finally was pronounced healthy.

I woke to discover I was paralyzed | Source: Unsplash

I woke to discover I was paralyzed | Source: Unsplash

It was a bittersweet moment for me. I was healed from my injury and I was walking again, but I was terrified. I had nowhere to go, no family. I was all alone in the world.

Carol walked in and found me crying. She sat beside me on the bed and put her arms around me. “Jenny,” she said to me, “it’s all right to be scared. You’re starting your life again.”

“I have no one, and nowhere to go,” I whispered, remembering other patients leaving surrounded by loving family, “I’m alone.”

“No you’re not,” Carol said firmly, “I’ve been meaning to talk to you about that. Would you like to move in with me? Just until you get your life together again…”

I was stuck in a wheelchair | Source: Unsplash

I was stuck in a wheelchair | Source: Unsplash

So I did, and it was lovely. Carol and I got on beautifully, and she gave me my own room, a pretty room, the prettiest I’d ever seen. “It was my daughter’s,” Carol explained with tears in her eyes. “I lost her like you lost your mother.”

I started googling for jobs the next day on Carol’s computer, but when I came down to breakfast there were some informative flyers on the table from the local high school announcing night classes for adults wanting to complete their secondary education.

“I think,” said Carol firmly, “that you need to go back to school so you can go back to college.”

My mouth dropped open. “College? I can’t afford college!” I gasped. “Carol, I don’t have a cent to my name and no way to support myself if I don’t get a job, and quickly.”

The physiotherapist helped me heal | Source: Pexels

The physiotherapist helped me heal | Source: Pexels

Carol shook her head: “No, Jenny, you can’t afford NOT to go to college. Listen, I will lend you the money, and when you graduate, you pay me back — just like a student loan with a bank.”

Anyway, she talked me into it, and I quickly completed the high school certification I needed and applied to the local college. I’ll admit Carol’s example inspired me to become a nurse, and four years later, I graduated summa cum laude.

I started working at a local hospital and ended up specializing in neo-natal care. One day, a TV crew came in to do a news story on a set of identical triplets and ended up interviewing me.

For a while, I was a bit of a celebrity, but the attention brought me an unwanted visitor. The doorbell rang and when I opened it, I was stunned to see my father standing there.

I became a nurse | Source: Pixabay

I became a nurse | Source: Pixabay

He looked terrible, like a bum, and he reeked of alcohol and sweat. “Jenny, my sweet baby girl!” he cried, reaching out his hands. “I’ve finally found you again.”

“Found me again?” I asked sharply, “You abandoned me in the hospital because I was useless, remember, like my mother?”

He squeezed out a few tears. “Oh my baby,” he sobbed. “Forgive me, I was frightened and in shock… You won’t turn your dad away now, would you? I haven’t been well…”

“You look fine to me,” I told him coldly, but my trained eye had already noted the yellow tinge to his skin and eyes. He had some kind of liver disorder, probably due to his drinking.

An unexpected visitor | Source: Pixabay

An unexpected visitor | Source: Pixabay

He shuffled forward. “I’m sick, Jenny, daddy really needs you…And…” he licked his lips thirstily. “And I’m broke, baby, no money for food…You’re not going to let your daddy go hungry, are you?”

“Like you left me to my fate? Helpless in a wheelchair? Guess what ‘DADDY,’ I am. Get out.” I slammed the door in his face and walked back into the lounge.

Carol looked up at me and smiled. “Who was that, Jenny?”

“Oh, just some man selling something!” I went to the sofa, sat down beside Carol, and hugged her fiercely. Carol hugged me back.

Carol adopted me | Source: Pexels

Carol adopted me | Source: Pexels

“Jenny,” she said, “there’s something I’ve been meaning to talk to you about. Would you allow me to adopt you? Become your mother? Because in my heart you already are my daughter.”

I started crying and I just couldn’t stop. I had been cursed with a terrible childhood, and now as an adult, I had been lucky enough to find a loving home and a parent who cherished me.

What can we learn from this story?

1. Family is built on love, not a biological bond, or shared DNA.

2. What you give is what you get, as Jenny’s father discovered.

Share this story with your friends. It might brighten their day and inspire them.

If you enjoyed this story, you might like this one about a beautiful socialite who humiliates an old friend and ends up regretting it.

This account is inspired by our reader’s story but written by a professional writer. All names have been changed to protect identities and ensure privacy. Share your story with us, maybe it will change someone’s life.

I Overheard My Husband Talking To My MIL About $10,000 and Our 3-Year-Old — What They Planned Shocked Me to My Core

They say betrayal doesn’t always come from enemies. Sometimes, it comes from the people you trust most. One night, I overheard my husband talking to his mother about our 3-year-old son — followed by a price tag. My blood ran cold as I unraveled what they were planning to do to my child behind my back.

Have you ever had a moment where everything you thought was solid suddenly felt like quicksand? When the people you trusted most revealed themselves to be complete strangers? That happened to me one Tuesday night, and I’m still shaking as I write this.

Portrait of an emotional woman | Source: Midjourney

Portrait of an emotional woman | Source: Midjourney

Six years ago, I met Nathan during my final year of university. He was charming, kind, and seemed to understand me in a way no one else did. We had one of those whirlwind romances — the kind where you stay up all night talking, where every touch feels electric, and where you can’t imagine ever being with anyone else. Within a year, we were married.

I remember the night he proposed. We were walking through the park where we first met, and he turned to me with tears in his eyes.

“Amelia,” he whispered, “you make the world make sense. Before you, everything was just… noise. But now?” He dropped to one knee. “Now I hear music everywhere I go.”

My hands trembled as I said yes. If only I’d known then that the music would turn to discord.

Close-up cropped shot of a man slipping a ring onto a woman's finger | Source: Unsplash

Close-up cropped shot of a man slipping a ring onto a woman’s finger | Source: Unsplash

When our son Leo was born three years ago, I thought our life was complete. Sure, we had our struggles like any couple, but nothing major. At least, that’s what I told myself. Looking back, I should have seen the red flags, especially when it came to Nathan’s mother, Susie.

She moved in with us right after Leo’s birth, claiming she wanted to help. “Just for a few weeks,” she said.

Those weeks turned into months, and those months into years. She had her own house nearby, but somehow, our home had become hers. Nathan never questioned it. I tried to be understanding and be the perfect daughter-in-law.

But there was always this underlying doubt that Susie saw me as an outsider in my own family.

A senior woman smiling | Source: Midjourney

A senior woman smiling | Source: Midjourney

“Darling,” I said to Nathan, “don’t you think your mother might be more comfortable in her own home?”

He always brushed it off. “Mom just wants to be close to Leo. She’s family, Amelia. Why does it bother you so much?”

“Because sometimes I feel like I’m raising our son with her instead of you,” I replied, but he never seemed to hear the pain in my voice.

I let it go, never imagining they would betray me like this.

It was past nine when I got home that night. I’d been working late, trying to finish a project, and all I wanted was to kiss Leo goodnight and crawl into bed. The house was unusually quiet as I slipped off my shoes in the hallway.

Rear shot of a woman walking in the hallway | Source: Midjourney

Rear shot of a woman walking in the hallway | Source: Midjourney

I never meant to eavesdrop. Then I heard the whispers from the kitchen. At first, I thought I was imagining things. But then I recognized the voices.

My husband and his mother.

“Ten thousand dollars, Nathan. Think about what we could do with that,” Susie’s voice drifted from the kitchen.

A senior woman in the kitchen | Source: Midjourney

A senior woman in the kitchen | Source: Midjourney

I froze with my hand still on my jacket zipper. They were speaking in hushed, urgent tones. I should have walked in and let them know I was home. But then I heard my name.

“But using Leo for this… I’m afraid Amelia will…” Nathan’s voice was hesitant.

My heart stopped. Using Leo for what?

“He’s perfect for it,” Susie insisted. “Young, charming, exactly what they’re looking for. And Amelia doesn’t need to know anything about it until it’s done.”

“She has no idea,” Nathan agreed. “And it’s better that way.”

An anxious man | Source: Midjourney

An anxious man | Source: Midjourney

Every muscle in my body tensed and a chill ran down my spine. Better that way? What exactly were they planning to do with my son?

I should have burst into the kitchen right then, but something kept me rooted to the spot. Maybe it was shock or maybe some part of me needed to hear just how far they would go.

“We need to do this soon,” Nathan muttered. “Before she starts suspecting us.”

“Leo will be fine,” Susie reassured him. “You know this is the best thing for him. And it’s ten thousand dollars… for you. She doesn’t even have to know.”

A senior woman looking at someone in the kitchen | Source: Midjourney

A senior woman looking at someone in the kitchen | Source: Midjourney

Then my husband spoke again, softer this time. “I know, Mom. I just… I don’t know how she’ll react if she finds out.”

That’s when I found my voice. Stepping into the kitchen doorway, I flicked on the light.

“FIND OUT WHAT?”

They jumped like they’d been electrocuted. Nathan’s face went white, while Susie’s expression hardened into something I’d never seen before.

A startled man | Source: Midjourney

A startled man | Source: Midjourney

“AMELIA!” Nathan panicked. “You’re home early.”

“What were you planning to do with my son?”

The silence that followed was deafening. Nathan and Susie exchanged glances — those conspiratorial looks I’d grown to hate over the years.

Nathan’s eyes flickered to his mother before he forced a smile, his voice turning unnaturally casual. “Oh, babe, we were just discussing about that daycare program you mentioned. Mom thinks we should go ahead and enroll Leo before the spots fill up.”

Susie nodded way too fast. “Yes! That’s all it was. Nothing to worry about.”

Nothing to worry about? The pit in my stomach deepened.

A stunned woman | Source: Midjourney

A stunned woman | Source: Midjourney

“We’ll talk later,” Nathan said, his eyes never leaving his mom’s face.

I swallowed. “Yeah… of course.”

I tried to shake it off. Maybe I was overreacting. Maybe it really was about daycare. But my gut wouldn’t let it go.

That night, after everyone had gone to bed, I did something I’d never done before — I checked Nathan’s phone. The message thread with his mother was right at the top.

“They just need one parent to sign. She doesn’t have to know.”

“They’re offering more for younger kids. Easy money.”

“I’ll handle it. Just get her signature on something and I’ll swap it out.”

A startled woman looking at her phone | Source: Midjourney

A startled woman looking at her phone | Source: Midjourney

My stomach twisted so hard I thought I might be sick. I scrolled up. A company name caught my eye. I Googled it quickly. And to my shock, it was a modeling agency.

It was real. No scams or hidden dangers. But that wasn’t the point.

They had planned to forge my signature and use my son WITHOUT my consent. The worst part? Leo was already signed up.

I forced myself to breathe through the panic and shock. With trembling hands, I took screenshots of everything and emailed them to myself. Nathan had no idea what was coming.

A heartbroken woman | Source: Midjourney

A heartbroken woman | Source: Midjourney

Then I called my sister.

“Sarah,” I whispered into the phone, trying not to wake anyone. “I need help.”

“Amelia? What’s wrong? You sound terrible.”

The dam broke, and I sobbed quietly into the phone, explaining everything.

“Pack a bag,” she said after I explained everything. “Come stay with me. We’ll call a lawyer in the morning.”

“I can’t believe this is happening,” I choked out. “I trusted him, Sarah. I trusted both of them.”

“Listen to me, Amy. You’re stronger than you know. And Leo needs you to be strong right now.”

A sad woman talking on the phone | Source: Midjourney

A sad woman talking on the phone | Source: Midjourney

The next morning, I barely heard a word Nathan said. I waited until he was settled at the kitchen table with his coffee. Then, without a word, I slid my phone across to him.

The open messages stared back at him.

“Care to explain?” I demanded.

Nathan’s grip tightened around his mug. He picked up my phone and scrolled through the messages, his face paling with every line he read.

A man shaken to his core | Source: Midjourney

A man shaken to his core | Source: Midjourney

Susie stiffened a little but said nothing.

“Babe, I —”

“Don’t even try to spin this. You were going to sign Leo up for a modeling contract behind my back. And swap out my signature?”

Nathan ran a hand over his face. “It’s not like that.”

“Then tell me what it is like, Nathan.”

A furious woman with her arms crossed | Source: Midjourney

A furious woman with her arms crossed | Source: Midjourney

He hesitated. “Mom needed help.”

I blinked. “Excuse me?”

“Mom has gambling debts,” he confessed. “She’s about to lose her house. We needed the money fast —”

“So you decided to use our son as a cash machine? Without even talking to me?”

“I didn’t know how to tell you…”

“How about ‘Hey, honey, my mom’s in trouble, let’s discuss our options’?” I laughed bitterly. “But no, you and your mother decided to go behind my back and forge my signature instead.”

A distressed man | Source: Midjourney

A distressed man | Source: Midjourney

“I was desperate!” Nathan fell to his knees, grabbing my hands. “Mom was talking about… about losing everything. I couldn’t let that happen!”

I yanked my hands away, my voice ice-cold. “And what about Leo? What about your son? Was your mother’s gambling addiction worth sacrificing his trust and safety?”

“Amelia, please —”

“We’re done.” I turned around. “I’ve already called a lawyer. I’m filing for divorce.”

“Don’t do this,” he begged, tears streaming down his face. “We can work this out. I’ll do anything.”

“It’s too late. You’ve already shown me who you really are.”

An angry woman pointing her finger at someone | Source: Midjourney

An angry woman pointing her finger at someone | Source: Midjourney

I didn’t just leave. I took everything. I froze our joint accounts, filed for full custody, and documented every lie and every text.

Nathan begged and apologized. But I never looked back… because a man who can betray me and our son deserves to lose everything.

That was six months ago. Today, I’m sitting in my new apartment, watching Leo play with his toys, completely unaware of how close he came to being used as a solution to his grandmother’s problems. The divorce is final, I have full custody, and Nathan isn’t allowed within 50 feet of us without supervision.

Oh, and the money they were so desperate for? Turns out Nathan took a loan to save his mother’s house… something he could have done from the beginning instead of trying to exploit our son.

A briefcase stashed with money | Source: Pexels

A briefcase stashed with money | Source: Pexels

Last week, I ran into Nathan at the grocery store. He looked older and tired.

“How is he?” he asked softly, staring at the floor.

“He’s good,” I replied. “He started soccer. He loves it.”

“I miss him so much, Amelia. I miss you both.”

I felt a familiar ache in my chest, but it was duller now, more like an old scar than a fresh wound. “You should have thought about that before you chose your mother’s secrets over your son’s welfare.”

A heartbroken man holding his head | Source: Pixabay

A heartbroken man holding his head | Source: Pixabay

But you know what? I’m glad this happened. Because sometimes it takes a crisis to show you who people really are. And while it hurts that my husband valued his mother’s gambling habits over his wife’s trust and his son’s well-being, I’m glad I learned the truth rather than live a lie.

As for me? I’m doing better than ever. Leo is thriving in his new preschool, I got a promotion at work, and most importantly, I sleep soundly at night knowing my son is safe from those who would use him for their own gain.

Sometimes the bravest thing you can do is walk away from the people who hurt you, even if they’re family. Especially if they’re family.

A mother hugging her little son | Source: Pexels

A mother hugging her little son | Source: Pexels

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.

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