When my daughter’s fiancé’s family found out about her college fund, they didn’t just ask for it—they demanded it, as if we owed them something. Even my daughter was shocked by what happened next.
My children mean everything to me, and I wouldn’t change that for anything. I’ve always wanted a big family, and now that I’ve found the right partner, I’m happy to have one.
Dren, both as a husband and a father, is wonderful. Besides working hard for us, he loves our children just as much as I do.
We’ve been through a tough time lately—financial struggles, health problems, and family conflicts.
Yet, no matter how difficult things get, Dren is always the one who steps up to fix them.
Early in our marriage, he shared one of his best ideas. We had just tied the knot and were barely scraping by, but he wanted to start a college fund for our kids. “Education is something no one can ever take away,” he said. Even if we can’t give them money or a house, at least we can give them an opportunity.
So, every month, we put some money aside. When I became pregnant with our first child, we opened a bank account for the fund. We did the same for our second, third, and fourth children—and now I’m expecting our fifth, for whom the fund has already been started.
Our eldest, Niva, was the first to have a college fund. We were young, maybe too young, but we worked hard to give her opportunities we never had.
But everything changed when Niva was sixteen. It came out that she was pregnant.
I’ll never forget that doctor’s visit. The world seemed to spin as Dren and I sat there, stunned. Niva was supposed to graduate high school, go to college, and start a career. Instead, she was about to become a teenage mom.
It was hard. After battling morning sickness and school gossip, Niva decided to drop out of her junior year. We supported her—doctor visits, baby clothes, a nursery at home. We didn’t pressure her to finish school then, but we hoped she’d go back someday.
That, however, didn’t happen. Niva made peace with her boyfriend, Kael. He seemed to care for both her and their child and worked construction whenever he could. After their son was born, they moved in together. Two years later, they had another child. They got engaged and planned to marry “someday,” when they could afford it. When their two children and Kael’s unstable work put us in a financial bind, Dren and I helped with groceries and diapers.
Meanwhile, our other children grew up. Sela, 17, dreams of becoming a veterinarian and spends her time volunteering at an animal shelter, working hard to get into her dream college. Rion, 15, talks about engineering. Vyna, 5, is a bright child who loves reading. I’m proud of every one of them.
But I never imagined that the college funds Dren insisted on would cause so much trouble.
Last week at Niva’s house, Sela was excitedly talking about college, dorm life, and classes. The kids were playing, and I was folding clothes in the kitchen when Sela shrugged at Niva’s question about how she’d pay for school. She casually said, “My college fund.”
My heart stopped. Niva’s face lit up triumphantly, as if she’d just won something.
“Wait, what?” I said. “I’m serious,” Niva said. “Do any of us even have money saved for college?”
I couldn’t lie. We hadn’t hidden it, but we hadn’t shared much since Niva’s pregnancy. I gently said, “Yes. You all do.”
Niva grabbed her phone and called Kael. I could hear the excitement in her voice. “Babe! Guess what? I have a college fund! Mom and Dad have been saving for me all this time!”
My stomach churned. I knew trouble was coming. “Niva, honey,” I said carefully, “the fund is for college—school.”
She looked at me like I was crazy. “But we could use it for a down payment on the house we want. Maybe some for the wedding. Isn’t that fair? It’s my money.”
I took a deep breath and said, “No, sweetheart. Even if you want to use it, it should be for school first. You can get your GED, attend community college, or go to vocational school. After that, whatever is left is yours.”
Her face changed, anger rising. “Are you serious? You’re making me jump through hoops for money I earned?”
“Niva, it’s not about hoops. The money is for school.”
She huffed, “This is unbelievable! Sela can use hers however she wants, but I have to prove I deserve mine?”
I told her, “Sela is using hers for college. That’s what it’s for.”
Niva stormed out, and soon after, we left.
The next day she called, crying and begging me to change my mind. She said they needed the money to change their lives. I repeated, “School first, then the rest is yours.” She yelled, “It’s my money!” accused me of favoring Sela, and said I was punishing her for getting pregnant. She lost it and screamed.
It was painful to hear. But I didn’t budge.
Then Kael’s family got involved, making things worse. The next morning, his mother Leryn called, furious. “This isn’t fair!” she shouted. “That money belongs to them! It’s your daughter, Niva!”
Before I could respond, Kael picked up. His tone was cold, unlike the kind young man I knew. “That money belongs to us,” he said. “You’re holding thousands that belong to Niva while we struggle to get by.”
I tried to explain the school rule, but he interrupted. “What a load of rubbish. She’s not going back to school. Her kids are her responsibility to raise. Real life.”
In the background, his sister Taryn yelled, “That money should stay in the family! Our family! What you’re doing is wrong!”
But Kael kept going: “You never dreamed of college; you saved it for Niva. She’s 22 with two kids. Get real.”
His entitlement hurt me deeply. He wasn’t just greedy—he acted like we owed them because we’d planned ahead, as if Niva’s money was their ticket to an easy life. Kael said, “We’re not asking for charity. It’s ours.”
I hung up.
Leryn, Taryn, even Kael’s father called, all saying we were unfair and owed them money.
The hardest part was seeing what it did to Niva. That evening, she came over, trembling, clutching her phone. Quietly she said, “Mom, I didn’t know they’d say those things. I didn’t ask them to call you.”
I held her tight. Suddenly, it all became clear. Kael’s family didn’t see Niva’s potential or encourage her to dream bigger. To them, she was just a source of money.
For them, it wasn’t about education; it was about power and what they felt they deserved.
Three days later, Niva called to say she had ended things with Kael for good. She said, “I heard what he said to you. The way his family talked about me and us—as if I was just a money source. Nothing more.”
A month later, she started taking GED classes, paid for by her college fund. We’re also helping her find a beauty school to attend. She can’t wait to get back to learning and build a bright future for herself and her kids.
I’m relieved Niva is finding her path. Leaving Kael was hard, but she chose to value herself over that relationship. Dren and I are proud of her for standing up for herself, and we’ll support her dreams every step of the way.