My Dad Kicked Me Out for Marrying a Poor Man – He Cried When He Saw Me After 3 Years
My father always told me I deserved the best. But to him, the best meant wealth, status, and security. Love, in his eyes, was secondary—something that could come later, once financial stability was secured.
So, when I fell in love with Evan—a kind, hardworking man who wasn’t rich—my father saw it as a betrayal.
“You’re throwing your future away,” he had said, his voice cold. “If you walk out that door with him, don’t come back.”
I did walk out. I chose Evan. And for three years, my father kept his word.
Life wasn’t easy in the beginning. Evan and I lived in a small, run-down apartment, barely making ends meet. There were nights we had to stretch a meal just to last until payday. But we were happy. Evan loved me with a depth that no amount of money could buy, and I never once regretted my decision.
Still, there was always an ache in my heart when I thought of my father.
Then, one day, everything changed.
Evan’s talent for carpentry caught the eye of a wealthy investor, and within two years, he built a thriving business designing custom furniture. Our situation improved drastically, and we moved into a beautiful home—a home Evan built with his own hands.
But my father never knew. I had respected his decision to cut me off, even though it hurt.
Then, one evening, I received an unexpected call.
It was my aunt. “Your father isn’t well,” she said hesitantly. “You should come.”
My heart pounded. I hadn’t seen him in three years, and I wasn’t sure if he even wanted to see me. But I had to go.
When I arrived at his house—the same house I had grown up in—he looked frail, thinner, and weaker than I remembered. The strong, proud man who had once ordered me out now sat quietly in a chair by the window, staring at nothing.
“Dad,” I whispered, stepping inside.
He turned, and when his eyes met mine, they widened. His lips quivered.
“You came,” he choked out. And then, to my shock, he started crying.
I had never seen my father cry before. Not when my mother passed, not when business deals failed. But now, he was sobbing like a broken man.
I rushed to him, kneeling at his feet. “Dad, I never stopped loving you,” I said, my own tears falling.
He grasped my hands, his grip weak but desperate. “I was wrong,” he whispered. “I let my pride push you away. And I’ve missed you every single day.”
I told him about my life, about Evan’s success, about the happiness he had refused to believe was possible. He listened, and for the first time, I saw something in his eyes—regret, but also pride.
“I judged him unfairly,” he admitted. “I thought money made a man worthy. But I see now—I was the fool.”
Three years of pain melted away in that moment. I had my father back. And that was worth more than any fortune in the world.
