Chapter 141

Now, this entire story so far has been about things I’ve done—and this is an autobiography, so what did you expect? However, reading from just one person’s perspective might give the impression that I went through all of this alone. That wasn’t the case.

Yes, in the current situation, I had my uncle, T1, and T2 with me. But as I briefly mentioned earlier, I also had friends who helped out. Beyond helping me move things and throw stuff away, they kept me company and kept me from constantly imploding. I needed them—honestly, I needed them a lot. Despair sucks, but when you have others there with you, it helps. It was also super fortunate that all I needed from my friends was moral and labor support. Between my uncle, cousins, and myself, we had enough funds to keep my mom afloat while the house was being sold.

Beyond that, I also had my fiancée, who had honestly been a bedrock for me during this entire ordeal. She’s a keeper—and easily the best part of me. Her family was amazing too. They were sympathetic to the situation and didn’t downplay it or look down on us while we scrambled. Speaking of families… yeah, the wedding was still happening.

You’d think we would hit pause on everything once my mom’s misadventures came to light, but here’s the thing—the wedding was already planned, pretty much to completion. For our wedding, my mother-in-law was essentially planning everything. She worked at the venue where we were getting married, and knowing the ins and outs of the place, she took care of the finances, planning, and dates. We didn’t really have to lift a single finger, which was incredibly helpful because we didn’t have any fingers to spare.

My mom probably felt the most guilt about the scam situation when she realized just how much of an impact it would have on my wedding plans. Parents are usually expected to help support the wedding—whether through planning, organizing, or with some “lucky money.” Instead of doing any of that, my mom was doing absolutely nothing. Actually, that’s not true. She was being a sponge for the money I had saved up for the wedding. I had to give her money to manage her exorbitant interest fees.

At some point, overwhelmed with guilt, she tried to help out. Unfortunately, her way of being “useful” was to force herself into wedding conversations and offer unwanted input. That pissed me off. I didn’t want her opinions on my wedding. The only thing I wanted from her was the full truth about what had happened with the scam. But she still wouldn’t budge. She kept telling me the same story over and over—still with pieces conveniently missing.

Fortunately, since she was completely shut out of the wedding planning committee and still banned from managing her own finances, she directed her efforts elsewhere. It was around this time that my mom actually did something useful: she contacted my dad.

My mom and dad were never really on good terms, but last year, things had improved slightly. After I entered the workforce, the three of us had a few phone chats. There were definitely some schisms still in place, but having both parents at my wedding started to seem like a real possibility. It felt like something that would be a net positive in my life, and because of that, I formally invited both of them. But that was before my mom’s lies came to light.

Since both of them knew there was a wedding coming up, and my mom knew she couldn’t support me, she decided to ask my dad if she could add her name to his wedding gift to me. She really wanted to ask him directly, but I think she kept things vague. After talking to her, my dad called me to clarify what was going on. I didn’t really care what she had or hadn’t told him—I just gave him the facts.

After I explained everything, he was silent for a bit. Then, slowly forming the words, he told me he was going to cancel his trip to the wedding. He said that a round-trip ticket from New Zealand to Toronto was a few thousand dollars, and in a time of crisis like this, the money seemed better spent helping my mom.

The second thing he told me had to do with a secret he’d been keeping: he had been saving money for me as a wedding gift. He had been working as a janitor at a small hotel, and though it didn’t pay much, he had managed to save a decent amount by keeping his expenses low. He said I could have the money now, so I could use it to help my mom. And oh—he asked me to consider it a gift from both him and my mom.

Yeah.

I know.

Maybe the world still has some light.

But for someone like me, I couldn’t just take that at face value. It felt out of character.

In Asian culture, money is sacred. So for him to save money just for me was already a big deal. But allowing my mom to sign her name to the gift, despite their history, just felt… strange. I mean, sure—the relationships between Mom, Dad, and me were always murky. So maybe anything was possible. But this didn’t feel quite right.

If I had to guess, the conversation between them before I explained everything may have been more significant than I realized. Still, I chose not to speak up. Someone was making a sacrifice here. To call attention to it would only diminish that act. And, more importantly—we really needed the money.

After we sorted out the transaction details, the call ended on a surprisingly high note. The money my dad had saved would be wired to my mom’s account. But because of the timing, she wouldn’t really have access to it. One minute it was in, the next it was gone—used to cover her private loan’s interest.

Honestly, when I first invited my dad to the wedding, it was mostly out of courtesy. It just felt like something he should be a part of, even if there wasn’t a strong reason. Hell, when my fiancée and I were planning the seating chart, we were scratching our heads trying to figure out where to even put him. But his surprisingly sincere response almost made me want to tell him to keep the plane ticket and come anyway.

The current circumstances had made the situation dire. There was constant anxiety about the unknown—what else my mom may or may not have done—and every dollar was needed just to stay afloat. We had to be as frugal as possible. Just in case.

Even if that meant sacrificing certain things.