This story is about a Malaysian woman torn between her duty to family and her desire for independence, as she struggles with the pressure of buying a house for her parents while yearning for a life of her own.
I love my parents. I really do. They worked hard to raise me and my siblings, and I know they don’t have much. That’s why, ever since I started working in KL five years ago, I’ve been sending money home every month. It started small—RM200 for groceries, RM300 for bills. Then it became RM500. Then RM1,000. And now? RM1,500 a month, just to keep things running.
I don’t complain, because I know they need it. My younger sister is still in university, and my younger brother just started working last year, which means, out of the three of us, I have the most stable income. That automatically makes me the “strongest pillar” of the family, whether I like it or not.
But last week, my dad brought up something new. Something bigger.
“Jia Hui, you working for so many years already. Why not buy a property?”
At first, I thought he meant for me. That maybe, he was encouraging me to invest in my own home.
But then he continued.
“Better to pay for a house than waste money on rent, right? Then next time, everyone got a place to stay together.”
And that’s when I realized—he wasn’t talking about me buying a house for myself.
He was talking about me buying a house for the entire family.
Why Is It Always Me?
I felt my stomach tighten. My dad’s words hung in the air, and I tried to process what he was really saying. At first, I thought maybe he meant for me—maybe he was finally encouraging me to invest in my own place. But then the rest of his sentence landed. “Better to pay for a house than waste money on rent, right? Then next time, everyone got a place to stay together.”
I blinked. “Wait… so who’s paying for this house?”
He looked at me like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Of course, we help each other la.”
But I knew what he really meant.
I was going to be the one paying the mortgage.
Maybe not officially, not in writing, but in reality? The burden would fall on me.
He mentioned that my younger brother would “chip in when he can,” but I knew better. My brother just started working. He’s still figuring out his own expenses, still enjoying the freedom of having a salary for the first time. He doesn’t even contribute to the household bills yet—what makes my dad think he’ll suddenly start paying for a house?
And my younger sister? She’s still in university. She’s not earning anything yet, and even when she does start working, I already know how the conversation will go.
“Let her settle first,” my parents will say. “She’s just starting out, give her time.”
Which means that, for the foreseeable future, the one person actually making sure this so-called “family house” gets paid for… is me.
I took a deep breath, trying to find the right words to say no without sounding ungrateful. “I don’t think I can afford that kind of commitment.”
My dad waved it off, brushing aside my concerns like I was just being dramatic.
“Aiya, if pay rent every month also money fly away. At least if buy house, got value.”
I wanted to argue. I wanted to tell him that buying a house wasn’t the same as paying rent, that it was a long-term responsibility, that I wasn’t just signing up for monthly payments but for property taxes, repairs, maintenance—all the things they weren’t thinking about.
But before I could even get the words out, he added something that hit even harder.
“Also, better we all stay together, right? You know, family should be together.”
I suddenly felt like I was watching my life being planned for me, and I had no say in it. This wasn’t just about money or a “smart investment.” It was about ensuring that I never drift too far. It was about keeping me close, making sure that no matter what I wanted for myself, family always came first.
And the worst part was—I knew my dad wasn’t doing it on purpose. He wasn’t trying to trap me. In his mind, this was how things were supposed to be. The eldest takes care of the family. The eldest stays.
But deep down, I wasn’t sure I wanted to stay at all.
All I could think about was how, for my entire life, my family’s needs had always come before my own.
And I was so, so tired.
What About My Own Life?
I’m 30 years old. I’ve spent the last decade giving up little luxuries so my family wouldn’t have to struggle. I’ve skipped vacations, ignored the thought of buying a car, and lived paycheck to paycheck—not because I couldn’t manage my own finances, but because a huge part of my salary wasn’t really mine. It belonged to my family. Every month, before I could even think about spending on myself, I had to send money back.
Now, when I finally have the chance to carve out my own space, to save for my own future, I’m being asked to sign myself into a 30-year commitment that I don’t even want. A house isn’t just some small purchase—it’s a lifetime responsibility. It’s debt. It’s pressure.
It’s a contract tying me down to a future I never agreed to.
And it’s not just about the money.
I don’t want to live with my family forever.
I don’t want to wake up in my 40s, realizing that every decision I’ve ever made was shaped around what my family needed instead of what I wanted for myself. I don’t want to spend the next decade being “the responsible one” while my siblings get to live freely, without the same weight on their shoulders.
I want my own space. My own privacy. I want to be able to come home after work, shut my door, and not worry about someone knocking just to ask “Eh, later eat dinner what?” or “Why you come home so late?” I don’t want to be told how to live in my own home. I don’t want to have to explain my choices—why I decide to order Grab instead of cooking, why I don’t want to sit in the living room just because “everyone else is there,” why I need time alone.
And most of all, I don’t trust that my siblings will actually help with the mortgage.
Right now, if I stopped paying for the family bills, I know exactly what would happen. My parents wouldn’t say anything—they’d just quietly struggle, trying to stretch their savings while pretending everything was fine. My younger brother, who has never had to be responsible for household expenses, would assume that my parents are “handling it.” My younger sister is still studying—she’s not in a position to help at all.
So if I buy this house, I already know how it will go.
At first, everyone will say, “We share the responsibility.” But slowly, their payments will be late. Sometimes they’ll “forget.” Sometimes they’ll say, “This month a bit tight, can you cover first?” Then the next month, and the next.
And before I know it, I’ll be the only one making sure the mortgage is paid so we don’t lose the house.
Just like how I’ve been the only one making sure the bills get paid.
Just like how I’ve been the only one making sure my family doesn’t struggle.
And I don’t know if I can do that for the rest of my life.
I don’t know if I want to.
How Do I Say No?
Even just thinking about saying no makes me feel guilty. My parents aren’t asking out of greed. They genuinely believe this is the best option for all of us. My dad sees it as a smart financial move—better to own than to rent. My mom sees it as a way to keep the family close, to make sure we all have a home together.
But why does it feel like my future is being decided for me?
I tried to hint at my hesitation the other night. Over dinner, I told my mom, “Ma, I really don’t think I can commit to buying a house now.” I thought maybe she’d try to understand, or at least ask why.
But all she did was sigh and say, “Aiya, if cannot, then never mind la. You already do so much.”
That somehow made me feel even worse.
She didn’t argue. She didn’t push. But I know my mom. I know when she says “never mind”, she doesn’t actually mean it. She’s just accepting disappointment, swallowing it, storing it away with the hope that maybe, eventually, I’ll change my mind.
I know exactly how this will play out. My parents won’t argue. They won’t demand anything from me. But they will wait. They’ll let a few months pass, maybe even a year. Then, during a family dinner, my dad will casually say, “Girl ah, now you stable already. Maybe time to think about the house?” and the conversation will start all over again.
It won’t stop until I say yes.
They’ll bring it up again in the future—maybe not next month, maybe not even next year, but eventually. There will be a moment when they sit me down and ask about the timing and the conversation will start all over again.
My siblings will continue on with their own lives, never really feeling the same pressure, because no one is asking them to carry this responsibility.
My brother is still adjusting to his new job. My sister is still studying. My parents have already decided that I am the one most capable, so I am the one who has to shoulder the weight.
And me? I’ll spend the next few months, maybe even years, feeling like I let my family down, wondering if I should have just given in. I’ll go through my days with that nagging thought in the back of my mind—Am I being selfish? Am I being ungrateful? I’ll sit through CNY gatherings, listening to relatives praise me for being a “good daughter,” while secretly wondering if they’d still say that if they knew I had refused to buy a house for my family.
I can already picture my mom at a family gathering, telling my aunties, “Haiya, Jia Hui say not ready yet. She say don’t want the commitment. She scared.”
It won’t be a complaint. It won’t be said in anger. Just a quiet, disappointed statement that everyone will hear. And that’s all it will take.
Because to them, I won’t be someone making a responsible financial decision. I won’t be someone protecting her independence.
I’ll just be the eldest daughter who refused to take care of her family.
And that thought terrifies me.
Is It Wrong to Want My Own Life?
I don’t want to be selfish. I really don’t.
But at what point do I stop sacrificing myself for my family?
I’ve given them so much of my twenties. My money. My time. My energy. I’ve pushed back my own wants, thinking “It’s okay, next time,” but next time never comes, because every time I think I’ve given enough, there’s always something more. First, it was the bills. Then, it was my brother’s tuition. Now, it’s a house.
And what’s next after that?
I don’t want to be that person—the one who spent her best years working, sacrificing, and waiting for “the right time” to live for herself, only to realize that time never came. I don’t want to be 40, still putting my own dreams on hold while making sure everyone else is taken care of.
I don’t want to spend my best years working tirelessly, only to realize that I never truly lived for myself.
But I don’t know how to say no without breaking my parents’ hearts.
Because the truth is, I know how much they’ve sacrificed for me. I know that everything they did—the late nights, the second jobs, the years of making sure we had enough—was for their children. And if they could do that for us, shouldn’t I do the same for them?
So now, I’m asking—if you were in my position, would you say no?
Would you risk disappointing your parents, feeling their quiet sadness every time you visit, knowing they won’t ever say it but will always wish you had done more?
Or would you just give in, because it’s easier than carrying the guilt?
Because right now, I honestly don’t know what the right answer is.
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Read also: “I Stopped Sacrificing for My Family,” Shares M’sian Woman Who Earns RM15,000 as the Main Breadwinner – In Real Life
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