Growing up, my parents always said they treated us equally. But when my younger brother got married, they “surprised” him with a down payment for a house — $60,000. I found out through a photo on Facebook of them holding the keys together.

I wasn’t jealous at first… until my mom said, “You don’t need help — you’re the strong one.”

Funny how “being strong” meant getting nothing.

For years, I swallowed it. I kept renting, working, visiting them on holidays with a smile. But the distance grew. I stopped calling as often. Eventually, I skipped Thanksgiving. That’s when my mom noticed.

A year later, she showed up at my door with something I hadn’t seen in years — my old college diary. She said she’d found it while cleaning.

Inside were pages where I’d written about them — how grateful I was, how hard it was working nights and studying, but how I still tried to send them $20 whenever I could because I didn’t want them to worry.

She couldn’t hold back tears. “I thought you’d always be okay,” she said softly. “I forgot you’re human too.”

She didn’t bring money. She brought an apology.

And honestly… I didn’t realize how badly I needed that more than any house.