You Will Never Be Successful

You’re useless, a moron, and you'll never be successful. Those were just some of the things I used to hear every day from people who, I guess, despised me. What's even hilarious is that most of the people that refer to me in this manner are my family. Isn't that ironic? Those in your so-called family who you believed would cheer you up are the ones who are trying to put you down.

My mom died when I was just 11 years old. My dad went to another country and lived with his new family. I've been living with my aunt since my father abandoned me. My aunt treated me fairly, just like I was her daughter when my dad was around. But as soon as dad said his goodbye to me, my aunt’s face suddenly changed. From a sweet and caring individual to a terror to be feared. I can’t believe her sudden change of attitude when my dad left. My dad was her older brother. But my dad couldn’t take me with him because his wife wouldn’t allow me to stay in her house. That is why Dad decided to leave me with my aunt.

My aunt has been treating me badly since my father left me and went to his new wife. She's been disguising her true feelings all this time, and I honestly believed she cared about me, but it was all a lie because my father was around. She treated me as if I wasn't her niece, and I felt like I was a slave in this house, obeying her orders.

I'm in my third year of college, majoring in culinary arts, and I've been working part-time at a café near our university to supplement my income. It's been five years since my father stopped financially supporting me. That's why I decided to get a part-time job to at least support my income. I haven't heard from Dad in a long time, and he hasn't responded to my messages. Perhaps his wife will forbid him from seeing me. After so many attempts to interact with him in the hopes of receiving a message, I eventually decided to give up.

When I got home, I noticed a bunch of liquor bottles on a table as well as on the kitchen table. There were chips all over the place, and the house was a mess. Before I went upstairs, I cleaned up the mess and tossed everything in a trash can. When I arrived at my room, I was surprised to find that the door was half-open and that all of my drawers and the box where I keep all of my savings were also open, with nothing inside. My heart broke, and I became increasingly concerned, wondering who could have done this. "No, No, No," I told myself as tears streamed down my cheeks. Then I heard my aunt's footsteps coming up the stairs. I stepped outside and asked if she could have entered my room. But then she became enraged, saying, "Did you just accuse me of stealing something from you? How dare you!"

How dare you accuse me? I let you stay in my house and that’s what you repay me with? " Okay, let’s just say that I took your money, and so what? I have the right to take all the money you have; you’re staying in my house rent-free, and the money that my brother sent isn’t enough. You know what, I should’ve tossed you out of the house when my brother left you here. You’re not even my niece, and we're not even related. " I paused and stared at her when I heard the last thing, she said to me. "What do you mean?" I asked her in a shocking tone. You’re not my brother’s daughter because you were just adopted. You should be thankful that I let you in, stupid. "

When she told me I was adopted, I broke into tears. I can't believe my father never mentioned that I was adopted. I feel as if everyone has deceived me. I just screamed and cried all night till I gave in and let myself weep myself to sleep.

Even though my eyes were puffy from sobbing the night before, I decided to go to the café the next morning. My aunt was not present when I awoke, as was usual. I had everything ready when I arrived at the café. It was still early in the morning, and no customers had yet arrived. While I was cleaning the counter, a middle-aged woman with bobbed hair came in and requested a cappuccino and chocolate moist cake. She sat in the café's corner, examining the interior, and I delivered the coffee and pastry she requested a few minutes later. She examines it carefully before taking a sip of coffee and biting into the cake.

A few hours later, she called me and said something. "Did you make the cake?" she asked, and I answered humbly, yes. I’m quite impressed with the taste; The flavor is extremely impressive; it's tasty and not overly sweet, a perfect blend of sweetness. Then I found out that she’s the owner of the biggest pastry shop and restaurant. She handed me her calling card if I ever wanted to work with her.

Three years later, I'm sitting on a sofa, reading my life narrative as a famous pastry maker from a magazine. I then closed the magazine and looked at the front cover, which featured my face. My accomplishment would not be possible without chef Dana's help and allowing me to work at her restaurant. As a result, a lot of people like all of the pastries I made.

Until now, I haven’t heard about my father, and as for my aunt, I heard she went out to the country with her boyfriend.

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