u/OldConversation4553

I (23F) am married to my husband (25M), and we have a beautiful little girl who turns one next month. We’re finally in a position where we’re looking to buy our first home.
The problem is… every time I look at our savings, all I can think about is the £11,000 my parents took from me.
When I was 18, I got my first full-time job. Instead of celebrating my independence, my parents took every single paycheck. By the time I was 20, they had taken around £11,000, leaving me with almost nothing.
I was told I was “helping family.”
The money wasn’t for bills. It wasn’t because we were struggling.
It was to buy my uncle a house.
My uncle has a gambling addiction, two children, and a disabled wife. I have absolutely nothing against my aunt she’s one of the kindest people I know but I couldn’t understand why an 18 year old was expected to financially support an entire family.
It got even worse.
My parents wanted the mortgage to be in my name.
At 18 years old.
They expected me to take on the legal responsibility for a house that wasn’t even for me. If I’d agreed, it could have affected my ability to buy my own first home one day.
Thankfully, my boyfriend at the time pointed out how dangerous that would be.
That was the first crack in everything I’d been taught to believe.
Then my parents found out I had a boyfriend.
Instead of talking to me, they had another family member tell me I was adopted.
Not my parents.
Not in private.
Just… someone else.
And suddenly, my entire childhood made sense.
Growing up, I was treated like the family servant. I cooked. I cleaned. I did whatever they wanted while everyone else got to be children.
If I was at work and they wanted me home, they’d actually call my workplace. Because my manager knew my mum, she’d send me home without question.
If I ever stood up for myself, my parents would tell everyone how lazy and ungrateful I was.
What they never told anyone was that they controlled me financially, manipulated me emotionally, and physically abused me behind closed doors.
Eventually, I refused to let them put the mortgage in my name.
I had three months before I left for university.
Those three months were absolute hell.
Every single day I was reminded how selfish I was.
How ungrateful I was.
How they’d “done everything” for me.
When I finally moved to university, I went low contact.
For the first time in my life…
I felt peace.
It lasted about six months.
Then one day, my parents showed up at my university accommodation without warning.
They stood outside and yelled at me, demanding I buy my uncle the house.
When I refused, they threatened me with the same thing they’d threatened me with for years:
“If you don’t do this, you’re not getting our house or the land in India.”
Here’s the thing…
I never wanted it.
I told them over and over that it was their property and they could leave it to whoever they wanted.
I just wanted them to stop using it to control me.
After that, I told accommodation security they were never to let my parents into the building again.
I cut contact.
About a year later, I met the man who’s now my husband.
He believed people could change.
He encouraged me to give my parents one last chance.
Against my better judgment…
I did.
After university, I moved back in with them.
Within days, they announced they were moving into the house they’d bought for my uncle.
I finally asked what had happened to my £11,000.
They didn’t deny it.
They openly admitted they’d used my money to help buy the house.
Then they looked me in the eye and told me that if I wanted to keep living with them, I’d also have to help pay the mortgage because my uncle didn’t have a job.
That was it.
I packed everything I owned and left.
I had nowhere to go.
The only place I could afford at such short notice was a room in a shared house full of men. I felt uncomfortable every single day, but it was still safer than staying with my parents.
Eventually, my husband and I saved enough to rent our own home.
Two years later, we welcomed our daughter.
She’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me.
Now we’re trying to buy our first house together.
And every time I see how much deposit we still need, I think about those two years of wages that were taken from me.
If I’d been allowed to keep the money I earned, we’d probably already own our home.
I’ve stayed no contact ever since.
I’ve spoken to a lawyer.
I have years of bank statements.
I even have bank security footage showing my mum pressuring me to transfer the money because I deliberately insisted on going into the bank instead of doing it online.
Apparently, I have a very strong legal case.
But I don’t want to spend years in court.
I don’t want the stress.
Most importantly, I don’t want these people anywhere near my daughter.
I refuse to let her grow up believing that love means fear, guilt, or financial control.
So I’m thinking of sending one final message with my bank details saying:
“Transfer the £11,000 you took from me into this account. I don’t want a conversation. I just want my money back.”
My husband supports whatever decision I make.
Some people have told me to just forget the money and move on.
Others say I’m owed every penny.
So…
AITA for asking my parents to give me back the £11,000 they took from me all those years ago?