Last summer was the breaking point. It was the same routine, the same dreaded phone call in March. But this time, something inside me snapped. I was tired of being the second-class daughter, tired of my children growing up believing they were less than their cousins. I decided it was time to change the narrative. I would no longer let my mother’s favoritism dictate our lives.
The idea came to me in a moment of clarity. I had always loved the beach, and I was good at what I did. Over the years, I had managed to save a significant amount of money, despite the irregular income. I decided to invest in something bold, something that would turn the tables – a beachfront resort.
I found the perfect property, a quaint but neglected resort on a prime stretch of beach. The price was right, and the opportunity felt serendipitous. I poured my heart, soul, and savings into it, transforming it into a vibrant, welcoming oasis. I named it “Sandy Dreams,” symbolic of turning my sidelined dreams into reality.
By spring, Sandy Dreams reopened with a campaign I launched, showcasing its charm and family-friendly appeal. Bookings poured in, and summer filled fast. The highlight was telling my mother the resort was “fully booked”—a taste of exclusion she once reserved for me. That season, Alex and Mia thrived, surfing and exploring tide pools. Watching them flourish, I realized we’d created our own paradise—proof we were no longer afterthoughts but the heart of our story.
