My name is Samara, and just six months ago, I became a mom to a beautiful baby girl, Ava. Like any parent, I wanted to give her the best start in life. My parents saved up $15,000 for her college fund, and Greg’s parents added another $8,000. I worked double shifts as a nurse and added $22,000 more.
Greg, my husband, had one job—just one. He was supposed to take all the money and open a college savings account. He even held the envelope full of cash and checks in his hands and promised, “I’ll take care of it first thing tomorrow.”
He didn’t.
The next morning, while I was changing Ava’s diaper, I overheard him on the phone in the kitchen, sounding way too excited.
“A ‘72 Bronco? Like the one I had in high school? That’s amazing!”
My heart sank.
I rushed in and asked, “Greg, what about the bank?”
He smiled, kissed me on the forehead, and said he’d just “take a look” at the car. I knew better. When it came to classic cars, Greg couldn’t think straight. He’d lost a Bronco in a crash when he was a teenager and never let it go.
I called him all day while I worked, but he didn’t pick up. When I came home exhausted from a 12-hour shift, there it was—an old, rusty Bronco parked in our driveway. And there was Greg, smiling like a kid on Christmas morning.
“I bought it!” he said, like he’d done something great.
I stood there, too stunned to speak. That was our daughter’s future sitting in the driveway, peeling paint and all.
He admitted he spent almost every penny—$43,000 on the Bronco and tools to fix it up.
“It’s an investment,” he said. “It’ll be worth double in 20 years.”
I asked, “And what about Ava? What about her future?”
He just didn’t get it.
That night, I packed up all his things and loaded them into his beloved truck. The next morning, I told him to leave.
He was shocked. “You’re kicking me out over a car?”
“No,” I said. “I’m kicking you out because you chose a truck over your daughter.”
He didn’t believe me at first. But I meant every word.
The next few days were hard. He called and texted non-stop. I ignored him. Then I got calls from his mom and mine. When I told them what happened, they were heartbroken. His mom couldn’t believe her son would do something so selfish.
Three days later, he showed up. The Bronco was gone.
“I sold it,” he said. “I got $38,000 back and opened Ava’s college account. I’m working extra shifts to make up the rest. I’m sorry.”
He looked awful. He told me he’d apologized to everyone—including Ava in a letter she’d read someday.
“I messed up,” he said. “I just wanted to feel young again.”
“And what about when Ava turns 17 and can’t afford college?” I asked. “You made a choice. And now you live with it.”
He moved back in a week later—but only to the couch. He worked nonstop and gave me every spare dollar to rebuild the fund.
One day, he handed me his wages. “It’s not much, but it’s something.”
I looked at him and said, “Greg, if you ever put your wants before our daughter’s needs again, not only will I kick you out—I’ll make sure you never see her again.”
He nodded, eyes full of regret. “I know.”
Dedicated and experienced pet-related content writer with a passion for animals and a proven track record of creating engaging and informative content. Skilled in researching, writing, and editing articles that educate and inspire pet owners. Strong knowledge of animal behavior, health, and care, combined with a commitment to delivering high-quality content that resonates with audiences. Seeking to leverage writing skills and passion for pets to contribute to a dynamic and mission-driven team.