When I was a kid, I thought we were rich. Not because we had a big house or fancy things, but because every time I asked for something, my dad somehow made it happen.

New school bag? Got it. Trip fees? Paid. New clothes? Done.

It’s only now I realise,
How many things he said no to for himself, Just so he could say yes to me.

Maa did the same!
She gave up her share, the last roti, the last slice of mango, the warmest blanket.

Small things. Everyday things. Things I never asked for, and she never made a big deal about.

They gave up so many dreams, just to make space for ours. And they never called it sacrifice. They just called it love.