I AM IN LOVE WITH MY MOM’S DRIVER BUT I CAN’T TELL MY MOM BECAUSE SHE WILL DISOWN ME – SCARED LADY SHARES

I never thought I would be writing something like this, but here I am, shaking a little as I admit it to myself. I am in love with my mom’s driver.

Even writing that sentence feels dangerous, He drives us everywhere, school runs, errands, family outings. To my mom, he is just “the driver,” someone she barely notices unless something goes wrong. To me, he slowly became someone else. Someone familiar. Someone safe. Someone who sees me on days when I feel invisible in my own home.

It didn’t happen all at once. There was no dramatic moment. It was small things. The way he greets me every morning. The calm conversations during long drives. The way he listens when I talk, even about the most ordinary things. Sometimes, he doesn’t even say much, he just listens, and somehow that feels like care.

Before I knew it, I started looking forward to those rides. I started noticing when he wasn’t around. I started feeling something I knew I shouldn’t.

The hardest part is my mother.

My mom is strict, proud, and very particular about class and image. In her eyes, some people are meant to be loved, and others are meant to serve. I already know what would happen if she ever found out. She wouldn’t shout. She wouldn’t ask questions. She would simply disown me.

I smile when I’m supposed to. I play the role of the “good daughter.” I bury my feelings deep and pretend they don’t exist. But love doesn’t disappear just because you ignore it. It waits. It grows. It hurts.

Sometimes, I catch his eyes in the mirror while he’s driving, and my heart skips. Other times, I’m scared that he might feel something too, because that would make everything harder. I don’t even know if this love has a future or if it’s just something I’ll carry as a secret forever.

What hurts the most is not even the fear of being disowned. It’s the loneliness. Not being able to tell my own mother who I really am. Not being able to talk to anyone about how heavy my heart feels.

I wish my mom could understand that love doesn’t care about status or titles. That feelings don’t ask for permission before they show up.

For now, I remain silent. Loving him quietly. Afraid. Confused. Hoping that someday, I won’t have to choose between my heart and my family.