At A Family Dinner, Grandma Asked Me: «Is The $1,500 I Send You Monthly Enough?» Everyone Looked…ʼ

My name is Amanda, I’m 19 years old, and I’ve always been in my brother’s shadow. Henry is 2 years older than me, and in my parents’ eyes, he could do no wrong. He was their golden child, the math genius who won Olympiads without breaking a sweat, while I had to study for hours just to maintain decent grades.

My parents never tried to hide their favoritism. When Henry turned 16, they bought him a brand new car. Two years later, when it was my turn, I got a bicycle from a clearance sale.

I remember forcing a smile and thanking them, while inside I was crushed. The only person who ever made me feel valued was my grandmother. She remembered every birthday, gave me pocket money, and promised to help when I started college.

That promise kept me going through high school. I got accepted to a college in another city with a partial scholarship and moved into the dorms. I thought grandma would send money as she promised, but nothing came.

When I asked my mom about it, she flipped out. How selfish can you be, she screamed at me over the phone. Grandma’s having money problems right now.

You should be ashamed of yourself for asking. Get a job instead of begging. So I did, I started working at a cafe near campus, which helped with food since they sometimes gave me free meals and let employees buy yesterday’s unsold items at a discount.

But it wasn’t enough to cover all my expenses, so I picked up a second job writing content for websites. Between two jobs and my classes, I barely had time to sleep. Even with both jobs, I was struggling.

There were times when the cafe closed for holidays or maintenance, and I’d go hungry. Once, they shut down for a week for sanitation, and I nearly passed out from hunger. My roommate Sarah saved me by sharing her food and money.

When my laptop broke down, I cried all day. I needed it for my writing job and schoolwork, but I had no money for repairs. Again, Sarah came through, borrowing $500 from her parents to help me…

I kept track of every cent in a notebook, determined to pay her back someday. My brother, meanwhile, was supposedly thriving at college, according to my parents. They said he was so busy with his studies and exams that he couldn’t even make it to family gatherings.

I rarely spoke to him directly, just occasional texts where he seemed distracted and vague about his life. That’s how things were until last weekend, when I took a bus to my hometown for Grandma’s birthday. I was excited to see her, even though my wallet was painfully thin after buying her a small gift, a framed photo of us from my high school graduation.

When I arrived at Grandma’s house, the party was already in full swing. My parents were there, along with aunts, uncles, and cousins. The only person missing was Henry.

Where’s Henry? I asked, giving my mom a quick hug. Oh, he swamped with exam prep, Dad answered quickly. He sends his love.

Grandma’s dining table was loaded with food, more food than I’d seen in months. My stomach growled as I took my seat, trying not to look too eager as I filled my plate. We started with toasts, everyone taking turns praising Grandma’s wisdom and generosity.

Then the conversation broke into smaller groups as we ate. I was quietly enjoying my meal when my cousin Tyler looked at me across the table. Damn, Amanda, why are you so skinny? You’ve lost a ton of weight, he said, loud enough for everyone to hear.

Before I could answer, my mother jumped in. Oh, you know these college girls and their trendy diets. She’s probably doing that intermittent fasting thing.

I opened my mouth to correct her, but Grandma spoke first. Tyler’s right, Amanda, you’re too thin. Her eyes narrowed with concern, isn’t the $1,500 that I send you every month enough for food? The fork slipped from my fingers and clattered onto my plate.

The dining room fell silent. What money, I asked, my voice barely above a whisper. Grandma, I haven’t received any money from you.

Not since I started college. The silence around the table grew heavier. All eyes moved between me and my parents.

Robert, Elizabeth, Grandma said, her voice dangerously calm as she addressed my parents. Would you care to explain? Mom’s lips trembled, Mother, this is a complicated situation. Perhaps we shouldn’t discuss this in front of everyone.

I have nothing to be ashamed of, Grandma cut her off. Tell us what you did with Amanda’s money. And if you don’t tell us everything right now, I’m going to the police…

My mother burst into tears. Dad cleared his throat and looked at his hands. We, we’ve been using the money for Henry, he admitted.

He has a gambling problem. He got mixed up with the wrong crowd in high school, and it just, escalated. We’ve tried everything, therapists, clinics.

He keeps relapsing. As Dad continued explaining to Grandma, my mind raced back through my childhood. All those times Henry got whatever he wanted.

All those times I was told to be more like him. All those times I went hungry while working two jobs, thinking my grandmother had forgotten her promise. Grandma’s voice cut through the tension.

Everyone, please continue enjoying the celebration without me. She stood up, her face a mask of controlled anger, Robert, Elizabeth, my office, now. My parents followed her without a word, shoulders slumped like scolded children.

I sat frozen in my chair, barely aware of the awkward small talk resuming around me. My cousin Tyler patted my shoulder and whispered, you okay, but I couldn’t even nod. I excused myself and tiptoed to the hallway.

Grandma’s office door was closed, and I pressed my ear against it, straining to hear. The voices were too quiet, which was somehow worse than shouting. I could only catch fragments.

Years of lying, Grandma’s voice. Tried to help him, Dad’s desperate tone. No excuse, Grandma again.

I returned to my seat, pushing food around my plate while my mind raced. Thirty minutes later, my parents emerged from the office. Mom’s eyes were red and puffy.

They didn’t speak to anyone, just grabbed their coats and left without saying goodbye. Five minutes later, Grandma returned, a forced smile on her face. Who’s ready for cake, she asked, as if nothing had happened.

The party continued awkwardly, guests pretending not to notice the elephant in the room. When the last guest had gone, Grandma took my hand. Amanda, I don’t think you should go home tonight.

Stay here for a few days. I nodded, relieved, the thought of facing my parents made me physically ill. The next morning, Grandma sat me down at her kitchen table with a cup of coffee.

Her eyes were tired, but her voice was steady. I need to tell you everything I learned from your parents yesterday, she said. I never directly paid for yours or Henry’s tuition.

I gave the money to your parents because I trusted them. I didn’t want to deal with bank transfers, seemed too complicated at my age. She took a sip of her coffee, you got a partial scholarship.

Instead of the $100,000 for your education, it only cost $40,000. They pocketed the other $60,000 and spent it on Henry. My hands trembled around my mug…

There’s more, Grandma looked me straight in the eyes. Henry never went to college. What, I nearly spilled my coffee, but they always said.

After high school, they sent him to Riverdale to get him away from his gambling friends. They thought a fresh start would help. She shook her head, it didn’t.

He found new friends with the same bad habits. So all those times they said he was busy with exams. Lies, I gave them $80,000 for his education too.

Grandma’s knuckles were white around her mug. Plus the monthly allowance I’ve been sending for you, $1,500 every month for almost 2 years now. I felt sick, I didn’t know any of this.

I thought Henry was in college this whole time. I mean, whenever I visited home, he was always on his computer. I assumed he was studying.

He was gambling online, Grandma’s voice was flat. Your parents have been paying his debts, putting him through rehab, paying for therapists. Nothing has worked.

Tears welled in my eyes, all this time, I’ve been working two jobs. There were weeks I couldn’t afford to eat properly. My roommate had to loan me money when my laptop broke.

I know, sweetie, Grandma reached across the table and squeezed my hand. And I’m so sorry, I should have checked in with you directly. What happens now, I asked, wiping my eyes.

You keep studying, that’s your job. Her voice was firm, and from now on, I’ll transfer $2,000 directly to your account every month. No more middlemen.

I stayed with Grandma for three more days. We talked a lot, about school, my friends, my dreams for the future. For the first time in years, I felt like someone was actually listening to me.

My parents called several times, but Grandma told them I wasn’t ready to talk. I wasn’t sure if I’d ever be ready. When it was time to return to college, Grandma drove me to the bus station.

As we said goodbye, she pressed an envelope into my hand. Emergency fund, she said, don’t tell me you won’t take it. Back at school, things changed quickly.

The first thing I did was quit my content writing job. With Grandma’s money, I could focus on my studies and just work at the cafe on weekends. I bought new clothes, stocked my mini-fridge with actual food, and paid back every cent I owed Sarah.

For the first time since starting college, I wasn’t constantly exhausted and hungry. My grades improved, and I even joined a study group. It was like stepping out of a dark room into sunshine.

Two months later, I was sitting in the campus library when someone tapped my shoulder. I looked up to see Grandma standing there, grinning. Surprise inspection, she announced, loud enough to earn us a glare from the librarian.

Grandma, I jumped up and hugged her, what are you doing here? Just making sure at least one of my grandchildren actually goes to college. She winked, let’s get lunch. I have something to tell you…

Over sandwiches at the campus cafe, Grandma dropped another bombshell. I’ve rewritten my will, she said casually, as if commenting on the weather. You’re my sole heir now.

I nearly choked on my iced tea, what, why? Your parents have already received over $250,000 from me. That’s their share. She took a bite of her sandwich.

I’ve informed them of my decision. They weren’t happy, but frankly, I don’t care. Grandma, I don’t need.

It’s not about need, Amanda, it’s about trust. I trust you to use what I leave behind wisely. She looked at me proudly, you’ve handled hardship with grace.

That says a lot about your character. I didn’t know what to say. After years of being the forgotten child, the also ran, suddenly I was being seen.

It was overwhelming. Thank you, I finally managed. Don’t thank me yet, Grandma’s expression turned serious.

Your parents might try to pressure you about this, be prepared. She was right, a week later, Mom and Dad showed up at my dorm unannounced. Sarah took one look at their faces and made herself scarce, mumbling something about a study session.

We need to talk, Dad said, sitting awkwardly on my desk chair while Mom perched on Sarah’s bed. I stared at my parents, these familiar strangers sitting in my dorm room. Mom looked thinner than I remembered, with dark circles under her eyes.

Dad’s hair seemed grayer. What do you want, I asked, my voice colder than I intended. Mom leaned forward, we need you to talk to Grandma about the will.

No hello, no how are you, not even an apology. Just straight to what they wanted from me. Why would I do that, I crossed my arms.

Because we’re your parents, Dad said, as if that explained everything. I laughed, a short, bitter sound that surprised even me. That didn’t seem to matter when you were stealing money meant for me.

Mom’s eyes welled with tears, you don’t understand what we’ve been through with Henry. No, I don’t, because no one told me anything. I sat on my bed, keeping as much distance between us as possible.

All I knew was that I was struggling to survive while you were telling me how great Henry was doing at college. I was starving. I was working two jobs and still couldn’t make ends meet.

You’re exaggerating, Mom said dismissively, I’m sure it wasn’t that bad. Something inside me snapped, not that bad? Let me tell you what not that bad looks like, Mom. It looks like finishing leftover food off customer’s plates at the cafe because I was so hungry.

It looks like wearing the same three outfits for two years because I couldn’t afford clothes. It looks like crying myself to sleep because my laptop broke and I had no money to fix it. Mom paled, but quickly recovered, your brother needed help.

He has an addiction, it’s a disease. And what about me? What was I supposed to do? Just suffer quietly while you lied to everyone? Dad tried a different approach, Amanda, please. Just tell Grandma that you’ve been fine all this time.

Tell her we’d been supporting you adequately. I stared at him in disbelief, you want me to lie for you? After everything? We’re family, he said, as if that settled it. Family doesn’t do what you did to me, I stood up, shaking with anger…

I lost 20 pounds my first semester. Sarah had to loan me money for food. There were days I was so dizzy from hunger I couldn’t focus in class.

Well, maybe you should have called us if things were so bad, Dad said. I did call, I begged for help. And Mom told me to get a second job because I was lazy.

A tense silence filled the room. Mom looked away, unable to deny it. Henry is your brother, she finally said quietly, he needs us.

And I don’t, my voice cracked. I’ve always been an afterthought to you two. Henry got a car, I got a bike.

Henry got praise for minimal effort, I got ignored despite working my ass off. Henry got all your attention, all your money, all your love. That’s not true, Dad protested weakly.

Isn’t it? Be honest for once. I wiped away angry tears, you chose him over me, over and over again. You let me struggle and suffer while pouring everything into him.

And for what? Has he gotten better? Has all that money fixed him? Their silence was answer enough. He’s our son, Mom whispered. And I’m your daughter, I shouted, or did you forget that? Mom started crying, covering her face with her hands.

Dad patted her shoulder awkwardly. Amanda, try to understand, he said. Henry’s problems are complicated.

We’re his parents. We can’t just abandon him. I took a deep breath, trying to calm down.

I understand Henry needs help. But you chose to help him by hurting me. That was your decision.

Mom looked up, mascara streaking her cheeks. What are we supposed to do now? Henry’s in trouble again. He owes money to some very dangerous people.

We need Grandma’s help. That’s not my problem, I replied, surprising myself with how much I meant it. How can you be so cold, Mom asked, he’s your brother.

A brother I barely know anymore. A brother you prioritized over me my entire life. I walked to the door and opened it.

I’m not talking to Grandma about the will. You made your choice, now live with it. You’re being selfish, Mom said, standing up.

Something inside me broke at those words, the same ones she’d used when I’d asked about Grandma’s promised money. Get out, I shouted, not caring who in the dorm might hear. I don’t want to see either of you again.

You made your choice years ago. You picked your favorite child. Now you can deal with the consequences.

They left, Mom crying dramatically, Dad looking defeated. As the door closed behind them, I collapsed onto my bed, shaking. Sarah returned an hour later, took one look at my face, and sat beside me, that bad, huh? Worse, I told her everything…

She whistled low, your parents are something else. Did they even apologize? Not once, I stared at the ceiling. They just wanted me to convince Grandma to change her will back so they could get more money for Henry.

Unbelievable, Sarah squeezed my hand. What are you going to do? Move forward, I said, surprising myself with the certainty in my voice. Focus on school, keep my weekend job because I actually like it, and stop letting them drag me down.

Over the next few weeks, I threw myself into my studies. The freedom from constant financial worry was life-changing. I could buy textbooks instead of struggling with library copies.

I could eat three meals a day. I could replace my worn-out shoes. Grandma called every Sunday, and I found myself looking forward to our conversations.

She never pressured me to reconcile with my parents, just listened when I needed to talk and made me laugh with stories from her youth. You know, she said during one call, I was the forgotten child too. My older sister was the beauty, my younger brother the prodigy.

I was just the middle kid no one noticed. How did you deal with it, I asked. I built my own life, found people who valued me for me.

I could hear the smile in her voice, like you’re doing now. One evening, while studying in the library, my phone buzzed with a text from a cousin, did you hear about your parents’ house? A quick call to grandma filled in the details. My parents were selling their home to pay off Henry’s gambling debts.

He’d gotten involved with loan sharks this time, and the situation had turned dangerous. Do you want me to help them, grandma asked. I thought about it for a long moment.

No, I finally said, they made their choice. Three months passed without any contact from my parents. I didn’t call them, and they didn’t call me.

It was strange how their absence felt more like relief than loss. Spring semester was in full swing, and for the first time, I was thriving academically. Without the constant stress of working two jobs and worrying about money, I could actually focus on learning.

My GPA jumped from a 3.1 to a 3.8, and my professors had started to notice. Your analysis in this paper shows remarkable insight, my psychology professor told me after class one day. Have you considered applying for the research assistant position in the department? Before, I would have immediately declined, knowing I couldn’t spare the time from my jobs.

Now, I found myself nodding enthusiastically. I’d love to apply, I said, when our applications due. That evening, as I worked on my application, Sarah burst into our room waving a flyer.

Spring break trip to Miami, she announced. A bunch of us are going, you should come. Again, my first instinct was to say no, an old habit from when every dollar had to be stretched.

But then I remembered I didn’t have to live that way anymore. You know what? I’m in, I said. Sarah’s jaw dropped, seriously? No, I can’t afford it or I have to work.

Nope, I grinned. I’ve been saving some of grandma’s money. I can take a vacation…

Who are you and what have you done with Amanda, she laughed, throwing a pillow at me. The week before spring break, I received a call from Aunt Kathy, my mom’s sister. Amanda, she said, her voice serious, I thought you should know.

Your parents sold the house. They’re renting an apartment. They’re struggling, Amanda.

The money from the house barely covered Henry’s debts. I felt a twinge of sympathy but pushed it away, that was their choice. I know, I’m not saying you should help them.

Just, thought you should know. She paused, Henry’s in a rehab facility again. Intensive inpatient program.

Maybe this time it’ll stick. After we hung up, I sat on my bed, thinking about my brother. Despite everything, I couldn’t bring myself to hate him.

He was a victim of his own addiction, but also of our parents’ enabling. They’d never taught him consequences, never made him face the results of his actions. I called grandma that night and told her about my conversation with Aunt Kathy.

Are you okay, she asked. Yeah, I think I am, I surprised myself with how true it was. I feel sad for them, but not responsible.

Good, because you’re not responsible for their choices. Grandma’s voice was firm, you focus on building your life. And that’s what I did.

Spring break in Miami was everything I’d never let myself dream of, sunshine, beaches, laughter with friends. I bought a new swimsuit without checking the price tag first, ordered whatever I wanted at restaurants, and even splurged on a parasailing adventure. When we returned to campus, tanned and refreshed, a letter was waiting for me in my mailbox.

I recognized my mother’s handwriting immediately and almost threw it away unopened. But curiosity won out. Inside was a short note, Amanda, we’ve moved to a smaller place.

The address is below if you ever want to visit. Henry is in rehab again. The doctors think he might have a chance this time if he sticks with the program.

Your father and I have been doing a lot of thinking. We made mistakes, big ones. We can’t change the past, but we want you to know we’re proud of you for standing on your own two feet.

Love, Mom. No apology, no acknowledgment of the harm they’d caused. Just a vague admission of mistakes and an address I had no intention of visiting.

I showed the letter to Sarah, who rolled her eyes, that’s it. After everything? That’s it, I tucked the letter into my desk drawer. But honestly, I didn’t expect even this much…

As the semester progressed, I found myself thinking less and less about my parents and Henry. I was too busy with my classes, my weekend job at the cafe, which I kept because I genuinely enjoyed it, and my new position as a research assistant. Grandma visited again in late April, taking me shopping and to a fancy dinner.

How are you really doing, she asked over dessert. I’m good, really good, actually. I smiled, I never knew life could be this, uncomplicated.

That’s how it should be at your age. She reached across the table and squeezed my hand. Your only job right now is to learn and grow.

I got a letter from Mom, I told her. Grandma’s eyebrows rose, and? No real apology, just an update that they’ve moved and Henry’s in rehab again. Are you going to respond? I shook my head, not now, maybe someday, but I’m not ready.

That’s fair, Grandma nodded, you take all the time you need. As final exams approached, I threw myself into studying. My psychology professor had hinted that if I maintained my grades, I might qualify for a summer research stipend.

It was an opportunity one never would have had before. One evening, as I was walking back to my dorm from the library, my phone rang. Unknown number.

Hello, I answered cautiously. Amanda, a male voice, vaguely familiar, it’s Henry. I’m calling from the rehab center.

Part of my recovery is making amends. I sat on a nearby bench, unsure what to say. I know what Mom and Dad did, he continued when I didn’t speak…

Using your money for my gambling. I just wanted to say I’m sorry. I didn’t know at the time, but that doesn’t make it right.

No, it doesn’t, I agreed. I’m not asking for forgiveness, his voice was steady. I just wanted you to know that I understand what happened, and I’m sorry for my part in it.

After we hung up, I sat on that bench for a long time, watching students walk by. Some looked stressed, others laughed with friends. Normal college life going on all around me, the life I finally had a chance to experience fully.

I thought about Henry’s call. It was the first genuine apology I’d received from anyone in my family. I didn’t know if he would stay clean this time, or if my parents would ever truly understand the harm they’d caused.

But for the first time, I realized it didn’t matter. My life was no longer defined by their choices. I had my own path now, one with opportunities, friendships, and a future limited only by my own ambitions.

Whatever happened with my family, I would be okay.