“I live here, John. It’s my home too. I pay half the mortgage, half the utilities, half of everything,” I said, setting my mug down harder than necessary. “This is as much my house as it is yours.”
But I realized they’d never stop or give up trying to claim what I’d built with my own calloused hands and sleepless nights. The greed had taken hold, and there was no reasoning with people who saw dollar signs instead of the years of hard work behind them.
So I made a decision that would change everything.
I took my profits and applied for a small business loan at a different bank where John’s connections couldn’t interfere. I found a beautiful commercial property outside town with greenhouse space, proper storage, and room to expand into the vision I’d always had. I put the down payment under my name only, making sure every legal document reflected sole ownership.
The day I signed the papers, I felt free for the first time in months, like I could finally breathe again. But when John found out through a friend who worked at the title company, he absolutely lost his mind.
“You’re shutting us out! How could you do this behind my back?” he raged, pacing around our kitchen like a caged animal. “We’re supposed to be partners in this!”
“Correction,” I said calmly, packing my flower supplies into boxes. “You shut yourselves out the moment you laughed at me and called my dreams ridiculous. Remember when it was a ‘useless hobby’ that would never amount to anything? Well, my ‘useless hobby’ now pays for my freedom and my future.”
“This is insane! You can’t just take our business and run!”
“It was never ‘our’ business, John. It was always mine. Built with my hands, my knowledge, and my determination while you sat back and mocked me.”
***
Six months later, my business is thriving like never before, beyond anything I could have imagined when I was planting those first seeds. I do elaborate wedding packages, corporate events that span entire weekends, and funeral arrangements that bring comfort to grieving families. I hired two part-time employees who actually believe in what we’re creating, and the loan is almost paid off ahead of schedule.
John still tries the same old manipulation tactics sometimes, usually when he needs money for something he can’t afford on his bank salary. “April, be reasonable here. We’re married. What’s yours is mine, that’s how marriage works. You can’t just cut me out completely.”
“Funny how that principle only works one way but not the other,” I reply every time. “When I needed support, it was all ‘my house’ and ‘my resources.’ Now that there’s money involved, suddenly everything is ‘ours.'”
His family drives by my new location sometimes, slowing down like they’re casing the place or hoping to catch a glimpse of what they’re missing out on. Carol called once to “check in” with her sweetest fake voice.
“We miss having you around for family dinners,” she said, like we were old friends who’d simply lost touch. “The table feels so empty without you there.”
“I’m sure you miss the potential profit more than my sparkling dinner conversation.”
“That’s not fair, April. We’re family, and family should stick together through everything,” she said, her voice taking on that wounded tone she’d perfected over the years.
“Family believes in each other from the start. Family doesn’t wait for success to show support,” I told her firmly. “Real family celebrates your dreams, not just your bank account. You had your chance to be supportive, and you chose mockery instead.”
Last week, Nancy posted on social media about “supporting small businesses.” She tagged my shop but I ignored her completely.
When people ask me about starting their own business, I tell them this: The only people who deserve a share of your success are the ones who believed in you when you had nothing but dirt under your fingernails and dreams in your heart.
As for John and his family? They’re still waiting for their cut of something they never earned. And they’ll be waiting for a long time.
Because the only people who get a share of April’s Garden are the ones who watered it from day one. That would be me… just me.
This work is inspired by real events and people, but it has been fictionalized for creative purposes. Names, characters, and details have been changed to protect privacy and enhance the narrative. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
The author and publisher make no claims to the accuracy of events or the portrayal of characters and are not liable for any misinterpretation. This story is provided “as is,” and any opinions expressed are those of the characters and do not reflect the views of the author or publisher.
