I’m Vera, 17. After my mom beat cancer, I made a silent promise: I’d give her something she’d always dreamed of but never had — a week by the ocean, with no chores, no worries, just peace.
So I got to work. I picked up double shifts, tutored classmates, wrote essays for cash, and skipped every party, every treat. For almost a year, I scraped and saved until I finally had $3,765 — enough for plane tickets, a seaside hotel, and everything we’d need.
That’s when my aunt Viola came to visit.
She spotted the shoebox where I kept the money and asked what it was for. When I told her, her eyes lit up. “Sweetheart, you’re still a minor,” she said gently. “You can’t book flights and hotels by yourself. Let me handle it for you.”
Naively, I handed it all over.
Days passed. Then a week. No updates. No bookings. I called her — nothing. So I went to her house.
She opened the door, sighed, and said, “Oh, I forgot to tell you. I needed the money, so I used it for a down payment on my new car. You saved it once. Save it again.” Then she shut the door in my face.
I was gutted. Everything I’d worked for — gone.
But fate wasn’t finished.
A few days later, Viola’s boyfriend Marcus showed up outside my part-time job. He’d overheard her gloating to a friend on the phone and was disgusted. He handed me an envelope with $4,000 in it and said, “Your mom deserves that trip. And Viola deserves the truth.”
A week later, Viola showed up to a fancy rooftop dinner, dressed to the nines and expecting a proposal. Instead, Marcus stood up, clinked his glass, and addressed the table — filled with her friends, coworkers, and even our extended family.
He told them everything.
How she took my savings. Lied. Betrayed a teenager trying to give her mother a gift of a lifetime. You could hear a pin drop. Viola sat frozen, pale and humiliated, while everyone turned away from her — some in shock, others in anger.
Today, I’m writing this from a sunlit oceanfront suite, listening to waves crash and watching my mom sip tea on the balcony, her eyes sparkling for the first time in years.
Viola lost her boyfriend, her reputation, and soon after, her car too.
Me? I lost an aunt — but I gained something greater: a reminder that sacrifice isn’t always wasted, and sometimes, karma writes the best endings.
