“We met in 2005 during my MBA and fell in love. Our families opposed us because we belonged to different castes, but after two years of resistance, we married. The first few years were happy—he was caring and supportive.In 2010, everything collapsed. His mother asked him to choose between his family and a ₹3 crore property. He chose the property.Suddenly, I was a single mother with a toddler and a ₹5,000 teaching salary. I lived in a PG where rent was higher than my income. Loans became my only way to survive. Each day in that small room felt heavier than the last.Later, I secured a ₹30,000 job at a boarding school. It felt like hope. I moved back to my parents’ home, but even there I was asked to pay rent. With my father’s business shut and no support from my brother, I was treated like a burden. That’s when I realised this struggle wasn’t temporary.One day, my son’s school called to say his fees were unpaid and he couldn’t attend class. I pawned my jewellery that day. When my son asked, “Kya main school jaa paunga?” my heart broke.It wasn’t just about money. I was excluded from weddings and family functions. I worked long hours, took extra tuitions, travelled in unsafe autos at night, and walked home during strikes.Ten years ago, I chose to begin again. With less than ₹2 lakh in savings, I applied for a Canadian visa. People doubted me, but in 2019 I reached Canada and found a job as a college professor within a month.Today, I own a ₹3 crore home in Canada. My son is doing well—free from judgment and stigma.People once said, “Your son will grow up and support you.”I didn’t wait.I saved both of us.”