AITA for Hurting My Daughter by Gifting Books to Her Friend—Who Turned Out to Be Her Girlfriend?
What began as a kind gesture to support a teenager who’d just come out ended up wounding someone closer to home—my own daughter. I never imagined a few books could carry so much weight.
My 16-year-old daughter’s best friend recently came out to her family and peers. We knew it had caused some tension between the two of them, though we didn’t know why. When her friend came to visit, my husband and I—both avid readers—let her pick a few books from our shelves. She happily chose some thrillers and LGBTQ+ memoirs, and we thought nothing of it. She posted about the books online, and that’s when everything spiraled.
I thought I was showing kindness—my daughter thought I was taking sides.
When my daughter saw her friend’s post, she accused us of “taking sides” and favoring her. She made constant remarks about us preferring her friend over her. My husband brushed it off, suggesting we give her space. But I could tell something deeper was eating at her—this wasn’t about books.
“She said we chose her friend’s side… I didn’t even know there were sides.”
I tried to talk, but she stayed withdrawn and irritable. So I decided to stop pushing and instead just spend time together—baking, watching movies, and quietly rebuilding trust. Over time, her mood softened. Then, during one of our baking sessions, she came out to me. Calmly, between mixing ingredients, she said it as though it were the most natural thing in the world.
“I just told her I loved her, then kept stirring. I didn’t want to make it a big deal.”
Later, she explained that she and her friend had actually been dating. They’d fought before the book visit because her girlfriend wanted to come out publicly and she wasn’t ready. The books—especially the queer memoirs—had felt like us “taking a side” in that argument. Now, she says they’re figuring things out, and my husband even ordered a small pride flag for her room as a quiet show of love and support.
🏠 The Aftermath
Once the truth came out, everything made sense. My daughter wasn’t jealous of the books—she was hurting from a breakup and scared about her identity. Our gesture toward her friend had unintentionally deepened that wound.
But after we started reconnecting, she opened up again. The tension disappeared, replaced by quiet acceptance and shared laughter in the kitchen. She knows now that we love her, no matter what, and that our home is a safe place for her to be herself.
Her father’s small gesture—a pride flag on her shelf—meant more than any conversation could.
Sometimes love looks like baking cookies and listening, not asking questions.
We didn’t fix things by talking. We fixed them by being there, quietly, until she was ready to let us in again.
💭 Emotional Reflection
Parenting teens often means walking blindfolded through emotions you don’t understand until much later. What looked like jealousy was really heartbreak and fear of rejection. In hindsight, my “neutral” act of kindness was seen through the lens of her own struggle.
This experience reminded me that love sometimes means being steady, not reactive—offering presence instead of pressure. My daughter didn’t need me to fix her feelings; she needed me to make space for them.
In the end, a few books sparked a difficult truth—but also brought us closer in ways that words never could.
Readers responded warmly to the story’s quiet resolution.
“You didn’t pick sides—you built a bridge. That’s what good parents do.”
“Your instinct to listen instead of pry gave her the courage to open up.”
“The pride flag and the baking scene broke me. This is how acceptance looks in real life.”
Most commenters praised OP’s empathy and patience, calling it a model example of gentle parenting. Many noted that the story showed how small acts—cookies, conversation, and quiet love—can build deep trust.
🌱 Final Thoughts
Sometimes our best intentions accidentally sting the people we love most. But when love is constant, even hurt can turn into understanding. Listening without judgment can heal wounds that explanations never could.
In the end, a handful of books led to a heart finally opened—and a family a little stronger for it.
What do you think?
Was it wrong to give the books, or was it simply a misunderstanding born of love? Share your thoughts below 👇
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