When my daughter’s fiancé’s family heard about her college fund, they didn’t just ask for it—they demanded it, like we owed them something. What happened next surprised even my daughter.
My life is all about my kids, and I wouldn’t change that. I always wanted a big family, and now I’m happy to have one with the right person.
Dren is a great husband and dad. He works hard for us and loves our kids as much as I do.
We’ve had tough times—money troubles, health problems, family fights.
But every time, Dren steps up and fixes things, no matter how hard they seem.
One of his best ideas came early in our marriage. We were newlyweds, barely getting by, but he wanted to start college funds for our future kids. “Education’s something no one can take away,” he said. “We may not give them money or houses, but we can give them a chance.”
So, every month, we saved a bit. When I got pregnant with our first, we opened an account. Same for our second, third, fourth, and now I’m expecting our fifth, with a fund started already.
Our oldest daughter, Niva, got the first college fund. We were young when she was born, maybe too young, but we worked hard to give her chances we never had.
But when Niva was 16, something big happened. She got pregnant.
I’ll never forget that doctor’s visit. Dren and I sat there, the world spinning. This wasn’t the plan. Niva was supposed to finish high school, go to college, build a career. Instead, she’d be a teen mom.
It was hard. Niva dropped out her junior year, struggling with morning sickness and kids’ stares. We supported her—doctor visits, baby clothes, a nursery at home. We hoped she’d finish school later, but we didn’t push while she was dealing with so much.
That’s not what happened. Instead, Niva settled with her boyfriend, Kael. He was okay, working construction when he could, and seemed to care about Niva and their baby. They moved in together after their son was born, had another kid two years later, and got engaged, planning a wedding “someday” when they could afford it. Money was tight with two kids and Kael’s unsteady jobs, so Dren and I helped with groceries and diapers.
Our other kids grew up too. Sela, 17, just got into her dream college, working hard with good grades and volunteering at an animal shelter, wanting to be a vet. Rion, 15, talks about engineering. Little Vyna, 5, is smart and loves books. I’m proud of them all.
But I never thought those college funds Dren wanted would cause so much trouble.
Last week, Sela was at Niva’s place, excited about college—her dorm, her classes. I was in Niva’s kitchen, folding laundry while the kids played. When Niva asked how Sela would pay for school, Sela shrugged. “My college fund,” she said, like it was no big deal.
My heart stopped. I saw Niva’s face light up, like she’d won a prize.
“Wait, what?” Niva said, sitting up. “We all have college funds?”
I didn’t want to lie. We hadn’t hidden it, but we hadn’t shouted it either, especially after Niva’s pregnancy. “Yes,” I said softly. “You all do.”
Niva grabbed her phone and called Kael. I heard her excitement. “Babe! Good news! I have a college fund! My parents saved money for me all this time!”
My stomach twisted. I knew this was going bad. “Niva, honey,” I said carefully, “the fund is for college. For school.”
She looked at me like I was crazy. “Okay, but we could use it for a down payment on that house we want. Maybe some for the wedding. That’s fair, right? It’s my money.”
I took a deep breath. “No, sweetheart,” I began. “If you want to use it, it’s for school first. You could get your GED, go to trade school, community college—anything. Then what’s left is yours.”
Her face changed, anger flaring. “Are you serious? You’re making me jump through hoops for my own money?”
“It’s not about hoops, Niva. It’s what the money’s for.”
“This is ridiculous!” she snapped. “Sela gets to use hers however she wants, but I have to prove myself?”
“Sela’s using hers for college,” I said. “That’s what it’s for.”
Niva stormed out, and we left soon after.
The next day, she called, crying, begging me to change my mind, saying they needed the money to change their lives. I repeated: school first, then the rest was hers. She lost it, yelling it was “her money,” saying I favored Sela, even accusing me of punishing her for getting pregnant.
It hurt to hear that. But I stood firm.
Then Kael’s family got involved, and things got worse. His mom, Leryn, called the next morning, not even trying to be nice. “This isn’t fair!” she shouted. “You owe them that money! Niva’s your daughter!”
Before I could answer, Kael took the phone, his voice cold, not the polite kid I knew. “This money’s ours,” he said. “We’re struggling while you’re sitting on thousands that belong to Niva.”
I tried explaining the school rule, but he cut me off. “That’s nonsense. She’s not going back to school. She has kids to raise. Real responsibilities.”
His sister, Taryn, yelled in the background, “That money should stay in the family! Our family! What you’re doing is wrong!”
Kael kept going. “You saved that for Niva, not some dream about college. She’s 22 with two kids. Get real.”
His entitlement got to me. It wasn’t just greed—he acted like we owed them because we’d planned ahead, like Niva’s fund was their ticket to an easy life. “We’re not asking for charity,” Kael said. “This is what’s rightfully ours.”
I hung up.
But the calls kept coming—Leryn, Taryn, even Kael’s dad, all saying we were unfair, that we owed them.
The worst was seeing what it did to Niva. She came over that evening, shaking, clutching her phone. “Mom, I didn’t know they’d say that stuff,” she whispered. “I didn’t ask them to call you.”
I hugged her tight. Suddenly, it was clear. Kael and his family didn’t see Niva’s potential. They didn’t push her to dream bigger or believe she could do more. To them, she was just a way to get money.
That fund wasn’t about school to them—it was about control, about what they thought they deserved.
Three days later, Niva called. She’d left Kael for good. “I heard what he said to you,” she said. “How his family talked about me, about us. Like I was just a way to get cash, Mom. Nothing else.”
A month later, she started GED classes. We’re using her college fund to cover them and helping her apply to beauty school. She’s excited about learning again, building a future for herself and her kids.
I’m glad Niva’s finding her way. Leaving Kael was tough, but she chose her worth over staying with him and his family. Dren and I are proud she stood up for herself, and we’ll support her dreams every step of the way.