This young girl was born into a large, ethnically Albanian family. Her parents moved to London from Albania three years before she was born. She grew up in London for much of her formative years.
However, when she turned 11, her parents told her they would no longer live in London. Instead, they were moving back to their native country. It was the end of primary school for the girl, and all her friends were also going to different schools, but none were in a foreign country.
Despite the significant change, the girl was excited to go to Kosovo and see her cousins who lived there. However, three years later, at 14, she told her parents she didn’t want to live there anymore. She moved away and went on to break Guinness World Records.
The Girl’s Childhood
The girl was born to a Bosnian mother and a Kosovan father. In the 90s, her parents experienced war in their home country. Her mother and father were living with her paternal grandfather, the head of the Kosovo Institute of History.
Although the girl’s grandfather took pride in his career, it ended when the war broke out. She shared:
“Once the Serbians came in, they wanted a lot of the historians to rewrite the history of Kosovo. To change it – that Kosovo was always part of Serbia and never part of Yugoslavia. And my grandfather was one of those people who wouldn’t, so he lost his job because he didn’t want to write a history that he didn’t believe to be true.”
In 1992, the girl’s parents moved from Albania to London to seek refuge from the war. However, their parents stayed behind in Bosnia and Kosovo. The girl’s father never got to say goodbye to his father as he died of a heart attack the year the war ended when the borders were still closed. Despite all the heartache the couple had experienced, they welcomed their daughter in northwest London in 1995.
The girl said that she watched her parents work every day of her life. Her father was working toward becoming a dentist and her mother a lawyer when they were forced to flee their home country. Being in London forced them to take jobs in cafés and bars. They also went back to school.
Although she was proud of her parents growing up, the girl was not always proud of her name, which means “love” in Albanian. Although she is proud of it now, she wanted a more common name growing up. Her name made her feel different from everyone else.
Another thing that embarrassed her growing up was the fact that her parents looked different from others. In school, the boys would tell her how attractive her mother was, and the girls would say the same about her father, which she didn’t enjoy.
As a young girl, she was strong-willed and ambitious. She knew she wanted to be a star and figured she wouldn’t be able to make it happen living in Kosovo.
One day, she sat her parents down and told them she wanted to return to London. She explained that she wanted to be a superstar and knew she would never be able to do it without being in a city like London. She planned to go to the Sylvia Young Theatre School on Saturdays and wanted to be where a lot was happening. She admitted:
“I didn’t think I’d be able to do this on a global scale, living in Kosovo.”
She tricked her parents into letting her go by telling them she wanted to attend an excellent British university and said she would need to do her GCSEs and A-levels in English to get there.
Her parents relented, and when she got back to London, she went to the Sylvia Young Theatre School and began recording demo tapes, which she uploaded to YouTube and Soundcloud.
Although she could have run wild in London without much parental supervision, the girl knew that her parents trusted her, and she needed to uphold her end of the deal. The only parental supervision she had was from the family friends she was staying with while in London. She joked that she was the mom of her friend group and always responsible.
With this responsibility came ambition. The girl knew she wanted to be a star and started contacting producers. When one offered a publishing deal, she found a lawyer who told her not to accept it. He then found her her current manager, leading to her being discovered.
Her love for music, singing, and dancing started when she was very young, putting on performances for her friends and family all the time. She knew she had a natural talent when her singing teacher in London moved her into a class with teenagers when she was nine.
The first concert she attended in Kosovo was Redman and Method Man, as hip-hop was massive in Kosovo then. She also wished to see performers like Nelly Furtado and Pink in her hometown, but they had yet to come.
When she finally became successful, she returned to Kosovo with the Sunny Hill Festival, which brings international artists to Kosovo. She hopes that this festival is something that the people in her hometown can enjoy for many years.
Her younger brother and sister are also interested in the entertainment industry. Her little sister graduated from drama school, and her brother started producing music when he was seventeen. The girl is incredibly proud of her family, especially her parents. She once gushed:
“Everything I speak about comes from my upbringing. Seeing my parents adapt to any situation, raise a family, work many jobs, go to university in the evening… I watched them sacrifice, yet I understand how lucky I am to have a British passport and to have come back to London for my career.”
Her parents’ relationship also challenged the girl because, as she told it, her mother married her first love and first boyfriend. She felt pressure and thought that people saw something was wrong with her because she was single in her mid-20s.
However, she realized that it’s okay to be selfish and work on yourself before getting into a serious relationship and certainly before bringing any children into the world.
Who Is the Girl?
Dua Lipa is the girl with the name she couldn’t stand when she was a little girl. Despite all the adversity she faced growing up, she has now become a world-famous pop star and has broken many records.
In March last year, her song “Levitating” became the longest-charting Billboard Hot 100 hit ever. Her 2020 Thanksgiving weekend Studio 2054 livestream also broke records, amassing over 5 million views, and breaking the Guinness World Record for most tickets sold for a live-streamed concert by a solo female artist. She enjoyed the experience so much that even when she was allowed to tour, she would livestream again.
In 2021, she also became the most listened-to female artist on Spotify, for which she landed another Guinness World Record. However, she remains humble and does not take too much note of the awards she has won, even though she has been nominated for 10 Grammys and has won three.
Lipa’s professional life is going well, and her personal life is on the up, too. She recently gained Albanian citizenship. A video shows her signing the papers and beaming from ear to ear as she is granted citizenship.
After Years of Leaving and Going back to My Cruel Dad, My Mom Showed up on My Doorstep Again — Story of the Day
My mom always left my dad, swearing it was for good, only to return after his apologies and gifts. It became a pattern I was used to, a cycle that never broke. But this time, when she showed up at my door with a suitcase, she had news that changed everything.
I sat across from my friend Sandy in my kitchen, enjoying a rare moment of free time together. Life got busy, and it felt like we never saw each other anymore.
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“It’s nice to finally catch up,” Sandy said with a smile.
“Yeah, it is,” I agreed, pouring her a glass of wine.
After a pause, she looked at me curiously. “Is your mom living with you now?”
“No, why would she?” Sandy’s eyebrows furrowed.
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“I thought she left your dad again?”
“Oh, you know how it goes with them. Every two years, same story. He messes up, she gets mad, packs her bags, and swears she’s done for good. Then he buys her something fancy, and suddenly all is forgiven. They act like they’re in love again, like nothing ever happened.” Sandy sighed.
“Have you tried talking some sense into her?”
“I did,” I said, feeling the old frustration return.
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“I told her she deserves better. But then she goes back to him, and she’d get mad at me, saying I wasn’t supporting her.”
Sandy frowned and took a sip of her wine. “I’m sorry, Amalia. That sounds hard.”
My eyes landed on the corner of the kitchen table, where my mom had left a note the last time she left my dad. I could still picture her then—standing in my doorway, suitcase in hand, her face full of hope.
“I’ve left him for good this time, Amalia,” she said with a determined smile.
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I wanted to believe her, but deep down, I doubted it. Still, a tiny hope stirred inside me, whispering that maybe this time would be different.
We went to a café nearby for breakfast, sitting across from each other. I took a deep breath, trying to steady my nerves, and finally said what I’d been too scared to say before.
“Mom, you know you can’t keep going back to him, right?” I asked, my voice steady.
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She looked down at her coffee, then back up at me with a weak smile. “Of course, I’m not planning to. I’ve made up my mind.”
I sighed and leaned closer. “He’s awful, Mom. He treated you terribly. He doesn’t change.”
“I know,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. I reached out and took her hand.
“I just want you to be happy. You deserve that, you know?”
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She squeezed my hand, her eyes watering. “Thank you, dear. It means a lot.”
I thought maybe my words got through to her. Maybe this time would be different. But when I came back from work that evening, the house was quiet. I called for her, but no answer.
Instead, a note sat on the table: “Your father apologized and bought me a new car. I realized I overreacted and went back. XX Mom.” I crumpled the note, tossing it into the trash. How foolish I’d been to hope.
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Sandy’s words pulled me out of my thoughts. “You should understand your mom better than anyone,” she said. “You left Robert, and that was hard. But you did it.”
I shrugged. “Yeah, it was hard. But I knew I had to.” She lifted her glass, her eyes warm.
“Well, I think you’re strong as hell. Cheers to that.”
I laughed and raised my glass. “Cheers.”
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The next morning, I woke up late. My alarm didn’t go off, or maybe I just slept through it. Either way, I was rushing around, trying to get dressed, find my keys, and grab my bag all at once.
My hair was a mess, and I could barely think straight. I could already tell it was going to be one of those days where nothing goes right. As I tried to slip on my shoes, I heard the doorbell. I glanced at the clock.
I didn’t have time for this. “Damn it,” I muttered, frustrated. I opened the door and froze. There stood my mom, holding a suitcase, her face serious.
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I didn’t mean to sound harsh, but the words slipped out. “What did Dad do this time?!”
She didn’t flinch. She didn’t look away. Her eyes stayed locked on mine, and she said, “He died.”
For a moment, everything around me just stopped. I couldn’t breathe or think. My mind went completely blank, like a switch had been turned off. I tried to say something, anything, but no words came out.
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After hearing the news, I called my boss and said I needed the day off. There wasn’t much I could explain, so I just told him there was a family emergency. My mom and I got in the car and drove back to my childhood home.
When we arrived, I walked into my old bedroom and felt a rush of memories. Everything was the same—the posters on the wall, the faded bedspread, even the little figurines on the shelf. It was like stepping back in time, and for a moment, I felt like I was a teenager again.
On the morning of the funeral, I woke up to loud music blasting through the house. I groaned, pulled the pillow over my head, but Mom just turned it up louder, filling every corner of the house.
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“Mom! Turn it off!” I shouted, my voice barely cutting through the blaring music.
“What?!” she yelled back from somewhere down the hall. “Hold on, I can’t hear you!”
A moment later, the music stopped, and I heard her footsteps. She appeared in my doorway, looking calm, like it was just a regular morning. “What were you saying?” she asked, tilting her head.
“Why is the music so loud?” I asked, trying to keep my voice steady. “It’s too early for this.”
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She shrugged, a small smile on her face. “This song makes me happy,” she said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.
I stared at her. “You’re not supposed to feel happy today. It’s the funeral.”
She looked at me, still smiling. “Why not? You should feel happy every day, no matter what’s happening.”
I sighed, rubbing my temples. “Besides, this song is like 20 years old. Nobody listens to it anymore.”
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She raised an eyebrow. “You used to love it,” she said. “I remember you dancing around your room, singing every word.”
“Yeah,” I replied, “and then I got sick of it, like everyone else.”
She paused for a moment. “I don’t know. When I love something, I love it forever,” she said softly, then turned and walked out. A few seconds later, the music started up again, just as loud.
After greeting everyone at the church, shaking hands, and hearing the same phrases—”I’m so sorry for your loss,” “He was a good man”—I felt drained. It was like I was on autopilot, just nodding and thanking people without really thinking.
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I needed a break, so I slipped away to a small, quiet room at the back of the church. I was hoping to be alone for a minute, but when I walked in, Mom was already there, sitting by the window. She looked up and smiled, her eyes tired but calm.
“I don’t like funerals either,” Mom said, staring out the window.
I just scoffed, feeling a bitter laugh rise in my throat. “Yeah, well, we’re stuck here.”
She turned back to me. “Did you prepare your speech?” she asked, her tone gentle.
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I shook my head. “I’m not saying anything. I don’t have anything good to say about him.”
Mom’s face softened, like she was trying to understand. “Why not? He was a good father and a wonderful husband.”
I stared at her, stunned. “You’ve got to be kidding me. Are we talking about the same person?”
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She looked confused. “Why do you hate him so much?” she asked, almost like she truly didn’t understand. “I never got it.”
“Why? Do you really want to know?” I felt something snap inside, and the words just came pouring out. “When I was 13, you went on a business trip, and my friend stayed over. We heard noises from your bedroom. We thought someone was hurt, so we went to check…”
“…And there he was, in bed with Mrs. Brown, our neighbor. I just screamed and ran out of the house. And when I came back, he didn’t say a word to me. He pretended like it never happened, like I didn’t see it. That’s why I hated him. And I still hate him,” I said, my voice trembling.
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Mom’s eyes softened. “I know.”
“You don’t know how I feel!” I shouted, tears welling up.
“I mean, I know about the affairs,” she said, her voice calm.
“You knew?” I asked, shocked. “And you did nothing?”
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“Of course I knew,” she said softly.
“Then I hate you too,” I said, my voice cold. I turned to leave, but her voice stopped me.
“I’m sorry, Amalia,” Mom said. “I’m sorry I wasn’t strong like you. I was scared to leave him. I didn’t know how to do it for good.”
“You think I wasn’t scared when I left Robert? I was terrified,” I said, my voice shaking a little. “But I did it because I knew I had to. And you know what? It was hard, but eventually, it felt… freeing.”
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“I’m glad to hear that. I never liked Robert, you know. When you left him, I was so proud. You knew you deserved better. But it wasn’t the same for me. When I love something, I love it forever. And I loved your father.” I stared at her, confused.
“Even after he treated you that way?”
She nodded. “He wasn’t perfect. I never needed him to be. He had flaws, and some were really big ones. But he always came back.”
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I frowned, trying to understand.
She sighed, her eyes meeting mine. “Honestly, I’m glad to hear you hate me. Because all this time, I thought you didn’t care. And between hate and indifference, I’d rather have your hate.”
I didn’t expect those words to hit me the way they did, but they did. For some reason, I found myself smiling a little. I glanced at the clock. “We need to go. People will be waiting.”
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Mom gently placed her hand on my back. “You know, your father loved two things most in life: expensive liquor and making you laugh. Maybe you can mention that in your speech, but… skip the first part,” she said, a small smile tugging at her lips.
I couldn’t help but laugh, a real, honest laugh, and for a moment, the tension lifted. We left the small room together, side by side, and I felt something shift inside me.
I glanced at Mom and realized she wasn’t just my mom—she was a person, with her own fears, flaws, and regrets. I had always seen her as someone who should be stronger, someone who should have known better. But in that moment, I understood she was just trying her best, like I was.
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If you enjoyed this story, read this one: While helping her mother, Sarah, move into a new house, Natalie stumbles upon an old photograph hidden in a box. It shows a young Sarah holding a newborn baby with a distinctive birthmark on its cheek. But Natalie never had a birthmark. Confused and unsettled, she realizes there’s a secret her mother has been hiding.
This piece is inspired by stories from the everyday lives of our readers and written by a professional writer. Any resemblance to actual names or locations is purely coincidental. All images are for illustration purposes only. Share your story with us; maybe it will change someone’s life.
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