I always believed I was helping my daughter.
A little money for groceries.
School fees.
Emergency expenses.
She called it “temporary.”
That temporary arrangement lasted six years.
Then one morning, I checked my bank account and saw charges for a private event venue, catering, decorations, and music.
Confused, I opened social media.
There she was.
Smiling with family and friends at a beautiful celebration.
I wasn’t invited.
But my pension had paid for it.
That was the moment I stopped making excuses.
Because helping someone is one thing.
Being quietly taken for granted is another.