People like to say growing up poor teaches you appreciation, but for me, it only taught how exhausting it is to live in survival mode every single day. I wanted out. I studied hard, took extra classes after school, and worked part-time jobs just to have a bit of pocket money.

As soon as I could, I moved out. Now, in my late 20s, I’m a doctor with financial stability for the first time in my life. It took years of college, student loans, sleepless nights, and relentless effort, but I’m proud of what I’ve achieved.

Sometimes I feel guilty for leaving my younger sister behind—she’s five years younger—but I remind myself that she’s not my responsibility, and neither are my parents. When my parents found out I was doing well, I got a call from my mom. She begged for money, saying, “Dad’s sick!

Please help.” I was startled at first, but then I steadied myself and said no. It felt like they were trying to drag me back into the same financial hole I’d worked so hard to escape. I knew that if I gave in once, they’d never stop asking.

A few days later, my sister called me—and what she told me made my blood run cold. My dad wasn’t sick at all. He was being harassed by loan sharks.

Apparently, about twenty years ago, he had taken out a home loan to buy our small flat and cover basic needs like schooling and food. Over the years, he kept borrowing more to pay bills, make repairs, and who knows what else. He never finished paying it off, and the debt had spiraled out of control.