Envied By Most, Loved By Only One

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Non-Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic
M thought that he could make his life perfect. What he didn't realise was the fact that those closest to him were the ones who despised him the most, and would do anything to destroy him.

Submitted: February 27, 2015

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Submitted: February 27, 2015

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27th September 1972

My heart pounded as I waited for the phone call that determined my career. It was my dream job, and if I am successful, I would have the chance to move my whole family abroad, far away from this poverty weary country. I had everything planned out in my head – invest money into a large plot, and build a beautiful house, where my parents, my wife and my brothers can all live happily in unity.

The ringing of the landline phone interrupted my thoughts and I sprinted to it, picking it up before anyone made an appearance.

My jaw dropped as I listened to the young lady’s soothing voice on the other end, congratulating me profusely. I had done it: the job was mine. My dream of having the entire family under one roof would finally turn into reality. I ran upstairs to my mother, out of breath, and smothered a massive kiss on her cheek. She merely smiled at me, her eyes beginning to glisten with tears. It was this woman who motivated me, she believed in me when no one else did, she helped me get through my abusive childhood, and I was going to repay her by gifting her the life of her dreams.

Before telling my wife the good news, I called my 4 brothers, who I loved more than myself, and they were just as ebullient as I was. I could finally provide education for my youngest brother, and watch all my loved ones live a happy, carefree life, as the entire family, that is comprised of 8 people, survived solely on my wage, which was barely $10 a month. You can imagine how tough that must have been, principally now, as my wife was pregnant, which inevitably raised the costs. I had never bought anything for myself with the money I earned; not even my wife. I gave everything to my mother and my brothers, yet my wife never protested. I could finally show the love of my life that I was a real man, who would do anything in his power to ensure that she lives the life of a queen. I was going to make this possible; I was going to escape this prison.

15th January 2015

I thought it was going to be perfect. How could I have been so naïve? I was so oblivious to the fact that the world was not a peace palace, that everyone was your enemy. Even now, at 61 years of age, I sometimes struggle to differentiate between those who love me and those who are merely after my wealth.

For the first few months, everything was phenomenal. I had managed to land three of my brothers exceptional jobs, and my youngest brother, N, was having the time of his life at university. My mother was looking after my wife, who had become rather round and plump, with her baby bump overly large. I thought my life was complete. 

How wrong I was, you have no idea. My mother passed away the following month, and I was completely and utterly broken, but I had to stay strong, as my wife was going to go into labour in a few days, so I had to be there for her, with a smile that was yearning to disappear.

However, that was not the worst part. The worst part was when my wife went into labour. I spent countless hours trapped in the narrow corridor of the hospital, desperately waiting for the doctor to come out of the operation room. He did come out, however not in the way I had expected. He had no baby in his hands, his face was expressionless. I still remember his words, “I am sorry, but your son did not survive. Your wife had a miscarriage”. That was when I broke down. I started crying in front of everyone, I don’t even think I cried that much when my mother died! But could you blame me? I was only 20 years old, and the fact that I lost my son and mother in a span of only a few months, was just too much. I could not handle it. But I stayed strong. I had to. I told my wife that we would try again, that we would consider adoption if we had to. If only those words had convinced me. My wife went through 6 other miscarriages and I thought to myself, “Am I cursed? What have I done to have received such bad luck?”

I thought my life was over, but my wife insisted that we try again, so we did. We were blessed with a beautiful son, it was a miracle. I thought I was dreaming, I thought this era of blackness would forever haunt me. Yet, things did not get better. Although we had a son, there were constant family disputes at home. I noticed money disappearing from my numerous bank accounts, and at first I thought it was a mistake, but even I’m not that ignorant. I added the puzzles together and knew my brothers were affiliated with these atrocities.

I was mentally crushed and demolished. It was as though my brothers were the cranes and I was the unnecessary chess piece that was no longer of use, so I was bound to be rid of. I cried myself to sleep every night, I still do it sometimes. I had given them everything they had ever wanted – food, a place to live, money, education, and this is how they repay me? I knew my dreams were rather far-fetched but I believed I could change the outcome, but the truth is, I was just an obstacle the whole time. I was used over and over again, and I hadn’t even realised because I loved my brothers, but in reality, the only reason they talked to me was because of my job and wealth, they were clearly envious of me, and my wife told me numerous times, but I had refused to believe her, sometimes even shouting at the poor soul who was perhaps the only person who truly cared about me.

Even today, my heart has not fully healed, for I will always have that hint of blackness in my heart, the amount of stress desperate to be shown on my slowly ageing face. 


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