When I was 17, my dad walked out on my mom and me.
Not only did he leave us for some younger woman, but he also drained our bank accounts and skipped out on the mortgage.We lost everything.
Homeless. Broke. Abandoned.
And he didn’t even blink.
I swore I’d get revenge someday.
But life moved on.
Mom and I clawed our way back. I worked through college, built a stable life, and moved on—or so I thought.
Then one ordinary day, I was walking to work when I froze in my tracks.
There, sitting on the sidewalk with a cardboard sign, was him.
My father.
Gray hair, hollow eyes, clothes barely holding together.
I felt my breath catch.
Our eyes met.
Recognition flickered in his face.
Then—shame.
I stepped closer. He opened his mouth to speak, but I beat him to it.
“Wow. So… karma got to you before I did.”*
I turned and walked away.
That was enough.