My name is April, and for two years my husband John and his family mocked my gardening dream as nothing more than a childish hobby. They called it a waste of time and money, something that could never lead to anything real. But when my little backyard project began turning a profit, their tune changed instantly. Suddenly, John demanded half of everything I earned, and his family insisted it was a “family business.” What they didn’t expect was how I’d respond.
For years, I worked from home doing data entry for an insurance company. It paid the bills, but every day felt like my life was trapped inside spreadsheets while the world outside passed me by. John had a steady job as a bank loan officer and thrived on routine, but I was suffocating.
One afternoon, staring out at our big empty backyard, I realized how wasted that space was. I had studied horticulture before switching to business in college, and that passion for flowers never truly left me. At dinner that night, I told John I wanted to start a small flower business.
His response was quick dismissal. “Don’t even think about it,” he said. “Flowers won’t pay the bills. It’s a ridiculous hobby.” Hoping for encouragement, I shared the idea with his parents. His mother laughed, his father told me to leave business to “people who understand money,” and his sister suggested I get a retail job instead. John sat silently while they mocked me.
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