As I could remember, my mother’s insatiable greed and frugality cast a long, dark shadow over my childhood.

It made no sense because we weren’t a poor family — in fact, we were far from that. My parents both earned more than enough to provide a comfortable life. My father, Henry, was a regional manager for a popular retail store. And my mother, Lydia, was a nurse. We were fine.

However, my mother always seemed obsessed with saving money. Her relentless penny-pinching made me resent her deeply. I couldn’t understand why she was so strict, especially when Dad and I wanted to enjoy simple pleasures.

Dad was kind, understanding, and always had time for me. He was my favorite person in the world. His tragic de:ath in a car acci:dent when I was seventeen shattered me. Losing him felt like losing the only person who truly understood me.

After Dad’s passing, my relationship with Mom deteriorated even further. I blamed her for everything — her coldness, her stinginess, and now, for taking Dad away from me.

Our fragile relationship couldn’t handle anything else. But then, everything changed when Mom drained my college fund.

I had worked so hard, maintained good grades and secured a partial scholarship. The rest of the expenses were supposed to come from the fund my parents had diligently saved for years. When I found out it was gone, I was livid.

“How could you?” I screamed at her. “How could you take away my future?”