While I was on a business trip overseas, my parents sent me an email saying they had sold my Seaside Villa to settle my sister’s gambling debts. “You didn’t need it anyway, right?” Without responding, I reported it to the police. But there was something they didn’t know yet. When the real estate agent called them, standing on the veranda of the Seaside Villa, I gripped my phone tightly, and the screen flashed with the words “Dad.” Anger swirled deep within my chest. “You went ahead and did whatever you wanted, didn’t you?” I said, my voice trembling. On the other end of the line, I could hear my father, Richard, breathing.
“Margaret, I thought you’d understand. Emma needs money, and if we don’t pay off the debt—” His voice faltered.
“It’s only natural for family to help each other,” he finished.
At his words, I let out a bitter smile. The usual family card.
My name is Margaret Moore, and my parents, who adored my two years younger sister, Emma, had always been like this. My earliest memory was of my fifth birthday. I was overjoyed when my parents gifted me the red bicycle I had been dreaming of, but that happiness didn’t last long. Emma took an interest in the bike and soon claimed it as her own.
“Emma wants it, doesn’t she? You’re the big sister, so let her have it.” In the end, the bike became Emma’s. My small protest that it was my birthday present fell on deaf ears.
When I entered elementary school, the same thing happened. The pencil case I received as a gift for starting school caught Emma’s eye. Eventually, I was made to switch to a different one. “Emma is still young, so she wants what you have,” my mother explained, always giving in to Emma’s demands. Extracurricular activities were also all about Emma. When I expressed my desire to take swimming lessons, my parents immediately shut it down. “We’re spending money on Emma’s piano lessons. Besides, Emma would feel lonely on her own.” Emma’s activities — piano, ballet, and painting — were unlimited. Meanwhile, I wasn’t allowed to do anything outside of school clubs.
Whenever I finished my homework and wanted to go out to play, I was told, “Help Emma with her studies.” Both of our parents attended Emma’s school events, but when it came to mine, they always said, “We are too busy at work.” Even when I came in first in a race during Sports Day, no one noticed because Emma had fallen and was crying. During an open school day, I gave a speech as class president, but my parents skipped it to attend Emma’s event. When I was elected as a class representative in sixth grade, I didn’t even bother telling my parents. I knew the conversation would just circle back to Emma.
What stands out most in my memory was my third year of high school. I worked tirelessly to get accepted into my first-choice university, but my parents’ reaction was cold. “Oh, that’s nice,” my mother said indifferently. “I’m more interested in Emma’s mock test results.” That evening at dinner, my mother made all of Emma’s favorite dishes. It was supposed to be a celebration of my achievement, but every topic revolved around Emma. For Christmas, Emma always received expensive gifts, while I got practical items like stationery or clothes. Even the travel expenses for my club competitions were denied because the money was needed for Emma’s piano lessons.
Emma is sensitive. Emma is delicate. By the time I entered university, I had completely given up on my relationship with my family.
Meeting Ken and Starting the Business
During my time at university, I met Ken at the windsurfing club. I was a freshman and a total beginner, constantly at the mercy of the waves. Ken, on the other hand, was older than me and the captain of the club. On the first day of practice, I was thrown into the sea countless times. I swallowed saltwater, and my eyes stung unbearably. Just as I was about to give up, Ken extended his hand to me. “Everyone starts like this,” he said. “I fell all day long when I was a freshman too.” Those words truly saved me. Up until then, I had rarely experienced kindness in the face of failure.
One particularly memorable moment happened on the final day of our training camp at dusk. I was alone, battling the waves. I hadn’t managed to stand up even once that day, and this was my last chance. “Margaret, the wind is shifting!” Ken shouted from the shore. The moment I heard his voice, everything suddenly became clear — the direction of the wind, the movement of the waves, the feel of the board. Before I knew it, I was standing on the waves. “I did it!” I shouted. My teammates cheered, but the only thing I saw was Ken’s beaming smile. “Don’t tense up on the board,” Ken gently advised me. “Feel the waves and move with them.” For some reason, those words deeply resonated with me. No one had ever treated me with such care before.
Starting Our Business and the Family’s Resistance
When Ken and I graduated, we decided to turn our passion for marine sports into a business. Despite the opposition from people around us, particularly my parents, we remained determined. They said we were too young, with no track record. But we refused to give up. We attended marine sports tournaments, built relationships with athletes, and gradually earned their trust. Our turning point came when we met a small manufacturer in Australia. They were also just starting their business and were looking to expand into the U.S. market. Perhaps our passion resonated with them, and we managed to secure an exclusive distributor contract. The night we signed that contract, we celebrated in our office with a cheap bottle of sparkling wine, snacking on canned appetizers. We talked about our future. Looking back now, that was the true beginning of our journey.
The Seaside Villa and the Turning Point
A few years later, we achieved our dream of owning a vacation home. However, my parents opposed it once again. “It’s unnecessary to spend so much money on such a luxury,” they said. But their disapproval wasn’t just about the expense; they still hadn’t fully accepted my work. However, that didn’t matter to me. This was the proof of the dream Ken and I had built together. On our first night at the vacation home, we sat on the deck, gazing at the starry sky and listening to the sound of the waves. Ken held my hand and said, “Margaret, let’s grow old together here.” Those words still warm my heart today.
But everything started to crumble with a single phone call from my father. It was the morning of the second day after I returned from a business trip to Southeast Asia. I was visiting the vacation home when I received a call from my father, Richard, saying that he had sold it.
“What are you talking about?!” I exclaimed. “I’ve already sold it. The ownership transfer will take place next month,” my father explained. “Diana is in trouble. She failed at an investment and now has $200,000 in debt,” he added. I could feel my anger building.
“What does that have to do with our vacation home?” I asked, trying to stay calm.
“Margaret, I thought you’d understand,” my father said. “Diana needs money. If we don’t help her with the debt collectors…” His voice faltered. “Is the vacation home you barely even use more important than your sister’s life?” my father continued, his tone growing more forceful. “That’s Diana’s problem,” I replied, my voice cold, struggling to keep my composure.
I hung up the phone and immediately contacted the police.
The Investigation and Family Fallout
The investigation revealed that my parents had forged my signature and Ken’s to sell the vacation home without our consent. They had been preparing for this sale for three months, planning everything from falsifying documents to lying to the buyer about our situation. It was revealed that my mother had even spread rumors in the neighborhood, claiming that Ken and I had racked up debts and were forcing our parents to clean up after us.
As my parents’ actions were uncovered, I knew it was time to sever ties with them for good. My relationship with my parents would likely never return to what it once was, but I had made my choice — to prioritize my happiness and well-being.
Moving Forward and Rebuilding My Life
In the end, my parents were prosecuted, and their attempt to defraud us came to light. Diana, as usual, blamed me for the situation. But I no longer cared about trying to fix things with her. My parents’ excessive devotion to her had ruined their own lives, and they had even tried to ruin mine.
Ken and I moved forward, turning the vacation home into a venue for charity events. We wanted to give underprivileged kids the chance to experience marine sports, just as I once had the opportunity to be treated with kindness and care. Although my relationship with my biological family was lost, I had chosen my path, and I had no regrets. The sound of the waves, the sunset, and Ken’s hand in mine gave me the peace I had longed for. This vacation home, once a symbol of my family’s failures, had now become a symbol of my dreams and the new life I had built.
A New Beginning
Years passed, and the vacation home, now repurposed for charity events and marine sports camps, flourished. As the venue grew in popularity, we formed new partnerships with other like-minded organizations, spreading the joy of windsurfing, kayaking, and other water activities to kids from all walks of life. The house, once a symbol of betrayal and disappointment, became a place of healing and joy.
Ken and I had become partners in more ways than one. Our business, built from the ground up, was now thriving, and our bond had only strengthened over the years. We traveled the world together, exploring new places and learning new things, always with the goal of creating something meaningful for others. But beyond the success, it was the quiet moments that meant the most to me — sitting together on the porch, enjoying the peace of the ocean, and realizing how far we had come.
One autumn evening, as the sun began to set and the waves gently lapped against the shore, Ken surprised me with a question that took me completely off guard. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, velvet box. “Margaret, will you marry me? Will you be with me for the rest of our lives?”
My heart raced, but a deep sense of calm washed over me. I had come a long way, from a girl who was overlooked and undervalued, to a woman who had built her own life, surrounded by love and purpose. “Yes,” I whispered, my voice full of emotion. “Yes, I will.”
We married in a small ceremony at the vacation home, surrounded by close friends, new family, and the children whose lives we had touched with our charitable efforts. It was everything I had never expected — a life filled with love, purpose, and fulfillment. The villa, once sold to pay off debts, was now a symbol of everything I had achieved. The waves, the sun, the stars — they all felt like they were part of my journey, guiding me to this moment of happiness.
And so, surrounded by the people I cared about, I stepped into a new chapter of my life, one that was mine to create, free from the burdens of the past. As Ken held my hand and we danced under the stars, I knew that I had found my peace, my happiness, and my forever.
