On my 20th birthday, my phone rang with a number I didn’t recognize.“Lina,” the voice said. “I’m your father.”Seventeen years after vanishing without a word, he wasn’t calling to apologize.He wanted something—and it wasn’t forgiveness.

I’d grown up pretending he was dead—it hurt less than facing the truth: he chose to leave.
When my mom was pregnant with my sister, he stopped coming home, ignored her calls, and finally disappeared without a trace.She raised us alone, working double shifts, reading bedtime stories while barely staying awake.She never complained. But I always wondered why we weren’t enough for him to stay.

Now, out of nowhere, he wanted to “reconnect”—over burgers at a diner.But it didn’t take long to see through him. He wasn’t here for family.He wanted help with a food truck business—specifically, my student loan money.I played along, told him I’d think about it. Then I called my mom.

She was furious—and focused. That night, we pulled out every receipt, bill, and bank record from the last 17 years.The next morning, we filed for unpaid child support.Two weeks later, I handed my dad a court summons instead of cash.Seventeen years,” I told him. “Plus interest.”

Months later, the court ruled: he owes my mom over $86,000.She cried—not out of revenge, but because justice finally caught up.As for me and my sister? We’ve closed that door for good.He had his chance. He left. We’re not giving him another one.