For two years, I was setting aside money from my pension to help my daughter buy an apartment. And when I handed her the envelope, she looked inside and asked a question I’ll never forget…

Two years ago, my daughter mentioned she was saving up for an apartment. She said she needed an initial payment, but was falling short on funds. I offered to help. She was delighted.

I’m retired. On a modest pension. It’s enough for living, but without extravagances. I made a decision to save a little every month. For my daughter. To help her out.

I began to budget. I bought groceries on discounts. Didn’t buy any clothing at all. Wore out the old ones. I didn’t go to cafes. When friends invited me out — I refused. I’d say I was busy or not in the mood. I never admitted I was simply saving every penny.

I kept heating to a minimum. Stayed at home in warm sweaters. Turned off lights whenever possible. Watched less TV — to save on electricity. I calculated transportation costs — and walked wherever I could.

I wanted to buy new shoes — the old ones were worn out. Checked the prices and put off buying. Decided the old ones would do. I patched up the soles and kept wearing them.

It was my birthday. I wanted to bake a cake for myself. Calculated the cost of ingredients — too expensive. Didn’t make one. Made do with tea.

Every month, I saved a little. Stacked it in an envelope. Hid it. Counted it periodically. Was happy to see the amount growing.

My daughter called rarely. Asked how I was doing. I’d say all was well. Never mentioned I was saving on everything. Didn’t want her to feel guilty. It was for her. For her future.

Two years passed. I saved up a sum. Not huge. But significant for me. Every bill in that envelope was a sacrifice of something. New things. Entertainment. Comforts.

I called my daughter. Told her I wanted to meet and hand over the money. She was excited. We set a time.

I arrived at her place. She opened the door and invited me in. Her husband was sitting on the couch. I sat across. Took the envelope out of my bag.

Handed it to my daughter. My hands were slightly trembling. From excitement. From the joy of being able to help.

She took the envelope. Opened it. Quickly counted the bills with her eyes. Her expression changed. She wasn’t happy. Gave a little smirk.

Looked at me. Then at her husband. Then back at me.

“Mom, are you serious? Is this it?”

Her voice wasn’t grateful. Surprised. Disappointed.

I sat in silence. Wasn’t expecting such a reaction.

She continued, “I thought you’d saved at least a decent amount. But this… well, what can we do with this?”

She glanced at her husband. He shrugged.

She tossed the envelope onto the table. Carelessly.

I looked at that envelope. Two years of my life. Thousands of sacrifices. Cold apartments in winter. Worn-out shoes. Missed meetings with friends. Tea instead of birthday cake.

All of it lay on the table. Carelessly thrown. Insufficient.

I stood up. Took the envelope back. Put it in my bag.

My daughter was surprised: “What are you doing?”

I responded calmly: “Apparently, it’s too little for you. I’ll keep it for myself.”

She tried to object. Said she misunderstood, that she was, of course, grateful.

But she never said the word thank you. Not once.

I left with that envelope. Came home. Sat in the kitchen. Put the envelope in front of me. Looked at it for a long time.

Two years of saving. For someone to whom it doesn’t matter. To whom it’s not enough. Who didn’t even say thank you.

My daughter called afterward. Several times. I didn’t pick up. Texted — I didn’t respond.

I don’t know what to do with this money now. It just sits there. A reminder.

Tell me, did I do the right thing by taking the money back? Or should I have given it anyway, despite her reaction? And how do you forgive an adult child who doesn’t value the sacrifices of their parents and finds them insufficient?

****

For two years I set money aside from every pension payment, denying myself everything to help my daughter save for an apartment. I didn’t buy anything unnecessary for myself, counted every penny, and endured it all because it was for her. I believed it mattered to her. But yesterday, when I handed her an envelope with my savings, she looked inside and said out loud in front of her husband:
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