قصص وروايات قصيرة عن Familial Bond وتضم Bias

When I'm five, my parents move to the city so my younger sister can go to preschool. They leave me behind in a mountain village with my grandma, who has dementia. Before they go, Dad orders me to take care of Grandma, even though she barely knows where she is, and to look after the house and the yard. Mom tells me I'm the big sister, so I need to be a good girl. She promises that once they have money, they'll bring me to the city too. I don't want them to go, so I cling to Mom's leg and beg her with everything I have. "Mom, please, I don't want to be away from you." Tears and snot run down my face, smearing across her 400-dollar dress. She scolds me for being a brat, spanks me until my bottom swells, and then slaps me hard enough to make my face bleed. In the end, they don't give in, and they never come back. Three months later, when I'm close to starving, I call Mom and beg her for something to eat. She snaps at me, irritated. "All you ever do is whine about being hungry. What kind of girl acts like that? Why don't you just starve to death? How can there be nothing to eat out in the country? "Your dad and I are under so much pressure here in the city. Can't you be a little more grown-up?" Her words come true, and I starve to death in the bitter cold of that December. Five years later, Mom pushes open the rotting front door. "Elsie, I'm home."

Being the only daughter of the Calhoun family, a mafia family in Merovia, I am doted on like a princess. This changes when I turn 18, when Mom dies. On the way back from a family meeting, the car blows up, and Mom shields me beneath her. Even as she lies in a pool of blood, her gaze is tender as she says to me, "Don't blame yourself, sweetheart. I love you." Still, after Mom's death, everyone in the family starts blaming me for what happened, including Dad and my older brother, William Calhoun. I go from being the princess of the family to the jinx that everyone hates. Soon after that, Dad brings home a new adopted daughter, Juliet Calhoun. William favors her and detests me. Even my childhood sweetheart, Shawn Kramer, takes a liking to her and ignores me. Dad says his new adopted daughter is way better than his biological one. They all agree to attend my college graduation ceremony. But on the day, they end up taking Juliet onto our family's yacht and holding a cocktail party out on the water to celebrate the official addition of a new family heir. This is the 100th time they ditch me for her. Unable to stop myself from an emotional breakdown, I cry out, "I'm the one who's related to you by blood!" Dad shields Juliet, who backs away from me out of fear. Then, he slaps me on the face. "I wish I'd never had you." "Who wants to have a younger sister like you? I wish you'd died with Mom!" William roars in contempt. This time, I've decided to let it all go. I call Aunt Marissa, Mom's sister. She's the founder and a therapist at MindCare Treatment Center. "Come here. This is your home now." I know that Mom's death was a conspiracy. This isn't just me leaving, but withdrawing myself from the family entirely. I hope that the next time I meet the Calhouns, there won't be tears on my end. Instead, judgment will befall them.

After the accident, I came home in clothes soaked with blood. Mom and Dad took one look at the bandages covering me and immediately asked what had happened. I clenched my fists and said, “Car accident. My phone’s emergency SOS automatically sent my location to my emergency contacts and tried calling them. Mom, you hung up. Dad, you never even checked the alert.” I thought they would apologize and promise that they would never ignore an emergency alert again. Instead, Mom frowned. “Why would you put down my number? You know I have a heart condition. What if I suddenly got an emergency alert like that and passed out from the shock?” Dad waved a hand dismissively. “My blood pressure is high. I can’t handle that kind of shock either. Take my number off the list.” I stood there, stunned. Everyone in the family had me listed as their primary emergency contact. When Grandma fell out of bed in the middle of the night, when Dad was rear-ended by someone on the highway, when Mom had a sudden episode of heart palpitations... No matter what I was doing, the second I got an SOS alert from them, I would call for help and rush straight over. At the beginning of September, my younger sister started college. Mom and Dad had practically fought over who would get to be her primary emergency contact, each insisting they were the better choice. When it came to me, their whole attitude changed. I lowered my eyes and asked softly, “Mom, Dad, if I died because neither of you answered when I called for help, would you regret it?”

I was supposed to stand beside my fiancé, Marco Bellini, at the charity gala. Both our families had assumed for years that we would marry. This was my first time attending their most formal social event as his future wife. But 20 minutes before the gala, my father suddenly changed the plan. "Sophia Ricci will stand beside Marco tonight. The foundation is honoring her father, Lorenzo Ricci, so she should be the one to welcome the guests." I turned to Marco. "You agree with this?" After a moment, he said, "It's one night. Don't make such a big deal out of it." And just like that, the guest list I'd spent two weeks preparing went to Sophia. Once the gala began, an older guest who hadn't seen us in years smiled at them. "So the Bellini family and the Moretti family are finally getting these two engaged?" Everyone laughed. I stood a few steps away, looking only at Marco. All he had to say was, "You've got the wrong idea." But first he looked at Sophia. She looked uncomfortable, so he smiled and changed the subject. "Tonight is about the foundation. Let's leave our private lives out of it." He never explained who I was. And he never came back to my side. Three days later, I became the Ferraro family's only outside partner on their West Coast project. I was done with the rest of them.

During the holiday, I make a rare trip back to my hometown. After dinner, Dad orders me to wash the dishes. I pause for a moment and ask, "Do we not have a caretaker at home?" Mom frowns and says, "Julia works so hard taking care of us every day. Since you are back, you should let her rest. You should be the one doing everything." I fail to fathom the logic behind her reasoning. So, I argue, "I am paying her to be a caretaker here. Is this not exactly what she is hired to do? How does it make sense that I pay and still have to do the chores myself?" My words make the caretaker, Julia Woodard, cry. My parents get angry at me too. The frown on Mom's face becomes even more pronounced. "What's the point of raising you? We barely see you all year. You are not as thoughtful as Julia! At least she stays by our side every day." Dad points at me and scolds, "You might as well stop coming back. From now on, Julia is our real daughter! Go do whatever you want!" I let out a helpless laugh. I am busy working away from home, but I send a large amount of money back every month and even fork out extra money to hire a caretaker for them. But in the end, they think her as their caring daughter and shower her with affection instead. If that's the case, I'll stop sending money and see whether Julia will still act like their "daughter" for free.

The day my younger sister, Winnie Larson, gets into a mid-tier university named Caelmont State University, Mom and Dad rent out an entire hotel to celebrate. I'm assigned to the entrance to collect cash gifts from the guests. Mom shoves the guest list into my hands. "Your grades are terrible. You'll only embarrass us if you attend the party with us, so you can stay here." My brother, Wade Larson, eyes my backpack and frowns. "And don't bring all that junk inside. Today is Winnie's big day." I tighten my grip on the straps. Inside my bag is my acceptance letter from Orivelle Institute of Technology, a top-tier university known for its aerospace program. Then, out of nowhere, an unfamiliar text pops up on my phone. "Don't tell them. "In your previous life, you showed everyone your acceptance letter. Winnie burst into tears and accused you of deliberately trying to make her feel bad. "Your parents forced you to give up your place at Orivelle to take care of Winnie. Henry even changed your university application behind your back. "Five years later, you're teaching math at a tutoring center in your hometown, while Winnie's receiving research awards at the university you gave up for her." A chill runs through me. Just then, Winnie rushes over and snatches my backpack. "Did you get me a present too?" My acceptance letter slips out of the bag. My boyfriend, Henry Carter— a person I have known since childhood—sees the university logo on the cover, and his expression changes instantly. But Mom gets to it first. She snatches up the letter. "You even forged an acceptance letter just to steal Winnie's spotlight?" Dad's expression hardens. "Sadie, you failed to get into a university, did you?" Every relative turns to stare at me. I look at the acceptance letter, now crumpled in Mom's hand, and slowly lower my head. "Yeah. I didn't get in."

During our family's trip over the holiday season, my cousin, Ginnie Lane, suggested "swapping accommodations" with an online friend. The second I objected, her eyes welled with tears, and she started sobbing. "Zach, you just look down on me because I'm an orphan! That's why you don't want to go to my friend's place!" My parents softened and gave in. In the end, we went to the Northern Grasslands and stayed in a drafty tent where wind blew in from every side. A massive blizzard hit that night, and our whole family froze to death in despair. When I opened my eyes again, I had returned to the day we discussed where to spend the holiday season.

I came from a family of musical prodigies. Everyone had talent—except me. I was born tone-deaf, with a harsh, unpleasant voice. My parents were Grammy winners, but I couldn't even pass an audition for a school show. Everyone said listening to me was torture. Desperate to carry on the Bennett family's musical legacy, my parents adopted Layla Bennett. The moment she entered our home, she took my place. My parents called her a musical genius and brought her to exclusive dinners, industry parties, and prestigious galas. My older brother, Ron Bennett, who had once spoiled me rotten, now said Layla was a hundred times better. Within a few years, Layla became one of the hottest rising stars in the music industry. I became an embarrassment to the family. Once, I touched Layla's performance gown. They accused me of trying to ruin it out of jealousy and shipped me overseas. “A spiteful child deserves to be punished!” Years later, I finished my studies abroad and finally returned home. But nothing was the way I remembered it. Layla lifted her chin and looked down at me. "Evelyn, I'm giving my first solo recital in Vienna soon. Mom and Dad will officially announce it at the party tonight. I'm the heiress to the Bennett family's musical legacy. We only need one golden voice in this family." My hand froze over the gift I'd brought her. Everyone said I had disgraced the family name. But what would they say if they knew the daughter they'd thrown away had already won gold at an international violin competition and performed on stages around the world? Would they be proud of me?

After my family and I are dragged into a roguelike horror simulation, they favor my cousin, Julian Clark, over me. In a lobby of blood-soaked players, he always manages to stay spotless, earning their praise as someone who has "kept his humanity". He's unlike me, the brute who willingly throws himself into melee combat and hacks down monsters just to keep everyone else alive. During one dungeon run, a terrifying entity targets my younger sister, Millie Larsson. I draw my blade and move in for the kill, but Julian stops me with a sorrowful smile. "Every creature has a soul. Gabriel, if you kill it, you'll only enrage it and burden Millie with the sin of bloodshed." Millie believes all the nonsense he says and begins resenting me for interfering. Later, when a veteran player steals Julian's life-saving loot drop, I nearly die reclaiming it for him. Instead of thanking me, he takes pity on the woman robbing him and hands the item back to her. He condemns me for being too ruthless, claiming I know nothing about showing mercy to women. Then comes the advanced raid. Cornered by the final boss, I beg Julian to activate the high-tier talisman I've given him, buying me just one second to escape. He recoils from my bloodstained hand in disgust and turns to my parents instead. "Gabriel provoked the boss himself. He's too violent. I can't risk wiping the whole party just to save him." In the end, I die in the boss' jaws. Julian steps over my shattered bones and blood to clear the raid, eventually becoming the server's most celebrated player for being the Untainted Saint. But fate grants me a second chance. I awaken once more in the game's central lobby, right before everything begins. This time, I want to see how long their precious humanity lasts in a world overrun by horrors when the blood-soaked blade that always carries their party is no longer there to protect them.

When my brother Beau Campbell and I drowned together at the age of four, I was the only one who survived. From that day on, my mother came to loathe me. She would often creep into my room at night with colorful "candies" in her hand, trying to pry open my mouth. However, Dad always stopped her just in time. Later, I cut off my long hair and threw away all my dresses, desperately trying to become Beau's shadow. Only then would Mom spare me a glance. Three years passed, and Mom got pregnant again. She said it was Beau coming back to us. I was happy for her and told myself it was good that Beau was back. After all, it also meant this family no longer needed the stand-in who had lived in his place. So, I found the same "candies" Mom once tried to force into my mouth, and I quietly swallowed them.

On Thanksgiving, after I got off work, my younger brother, Nate Anderson, left an update in our family group chat about having moved to a different address. I had to take five different public transport connections before I finally reached the location he had sent me. However, when I arrived, I found that I was in a deserted area. Nate sounded smug over the phone. “Got you! My prank was successful! The last bus has left. What’re you going to do now?” I was dumbfounded, but my parents were laughing. “Why did you believe such an obvious lie? Who did you inherit your dumbness from?” “We’re having our Thanksgiving dinner soon. You can walk home.” My girlfriend, Gwen Smith, was chuckling. She said mockingly, “Oliver, you should come back on your own, just like your parents said. “It’s not the first time you’re getting pranked like this. Don’t be a sore loser!” After that, she hung up on me. In the past, I would have called them and begged them to pick me up. However, this time, I was overwhelmed with exhaustion as I gazed at the distant city lights. Nate loved to play pranks on me, and my entire family enabled him to do so. Two years ago, he put peach fuzz into my drink, and I suffered an asthma attack because of it. Last year, he swapped my shampoo with a hair removal gel, and I failed an interview because of it. My entire family knew that I was terrified of the dark, but they conspired with him and lured me to a deserted area. They were betting on when I would call them and beg for their mercy at the dinner table. I did not cry or beg. In the dark, I walked in the opposite direction from where my home was. I was going to put an end to these pranks.

After my SATs are over, I go to the office block with my poverty certificate to apply for a school loan. The staff member glances at my paperwork before turning my application down coldly. "To think that you're already swindling loans from the government at such a young age! High-income families like yours aren't lacking in the money department at all!" At first, I think this is just a misunderstanding. That is, until the staff member passes me the information on my parents. "Your parents have a villa worth 20 million dollars in the city center, whereas your younger brother goes to an elite academy that costs 800 thousand dollars' worth of tuition fees per year! "Tell me, how can someone from your family be eligible to apply for a school loan?" I'm stunned, to say the least. The entire village has raised me since young. For the past 18 years, I've been the only child of an extremely impoverished family. Little do I know that my parents have already formed another family of their own in the city…

I stand in the hospital after my two older brothers decline all 99 of my phone calls. They finally appear, bringing with them the biological sister they found. My gentle eldest brother, who had once rescued me from my so-called abusive parents, raises his hand and slaps me across the face. "Cynthia, you're actually pretending to have a terminal illness just to compete with Sarah for our affection? And you came to this kind of place to frighten us?" I clutch my swollen cheek and listen as my second brother, who always says he'll trust me no matter what, holds Sarah in his arms and laughs out loud. "Are you trying to fake being sick to get our attention after seeing that Sarah is in poor health? "Just cut the act. You've been living in luxury since childhood and have always been in perfect health. How could you possibly be ill?" Sarah Crawford speaks up thoughtfully, "Don't blame her, you two. I think she just feels like I've stolen away your love for her, which is why she has become so unreasonable..." I look at the two brothers who have doted on me for ten years and suddenly feel that nothing matters anymore. After all, I only have seven days left to live. In seven days, everything will return to normal after my departure. But by then, they'll be the ones unable to accept it.

In Ashport, it was no secret that my mom, Celia Gibson, had two families. When she was up in Northline, she stayed with Dad and me. When she was down in Southbank, she cared for the man who once saved her life and his son. Years ago, Arthur Poole stepped in and took a knife that should have struck her when the dock she was at exploded. From that moment, Celia lived as if her life belonged to him. Dad fought with her about it for over a decade. The wealthy in Ashport snickered behind his back, saying Liam Olson was her husband in name only. After all, Dad couldn't even get her to cut ties with her so-called savior. Then, Celia got pregnant with my little sister. Arthur called her, screaming that she had to choose between them. That very night, she went to the hospital and had an abortion. "Liam, we can always have another baby, but I can't just turn my back on Arthur and his son." The night we lost my little sister, Dad finally stopped fighting. He gathered me close and whispered, "Lucas, my son... I'm leaving. I'm going home." I'd known long ago that Dad wasn't from this world. He'd come here with a single mission: to have a son and a daughter with Celia. Only then would he earn the right to stay alive. Unfortunately, he'd failed. The countdown above his head kept ticking, stealing a little more time from him each day. I called Celia over and over, my voice breaking as I begged her to come home and see Dad. Alas, she was in Southbank, having a grand time with Arthur and his son. All I got was her cold, impatient response, "Hasn't your father caused enough drama all these years? Tell him to stop using his own life just to guilt me into choosing him." What she didn't know was that Dad meant it this time around. When his countdown finally hit zero, I cradled him as he drew his last breath. Then, I wiped my tears and called the hospital. From that day on, Dad was forever lost to me. And as far as I was concerned, I no longer had a mother, either.

After spending five years in Virtue School, I was a machine that dutifully carried out every order. Seeing me staying as silent as a grave, my father exclaimed happily, "Jojo's such a good boy now. Come on, let's eat! Let's celebrate!" Hearing the order to eat, I sprang to my feet, grabbed a plate, and stayed on all fours, shoving food into my own mouth with my own hands. My sister Josie shot me a look of disgust. "Mom! Dad! How has he improved?! He's even more annoying now!" On the other hand, the culprit who made me like this—the adopted orphan of my mother's fallen comrade—was suddenly tearing up, his voice cracking. "Sorry, brother… I didn't know you'd hate me for so long. "If you hate me that much, I will go to my mother. I'm more than content after your parents have taken care of me for so long." My brain, essentially lobotomized by shock therapy, couldn't understand such complex sentences. So I only watched as he gritted his teeth and pressed his dinner knife against his own neck. My parents promptly leaped up to stop him, while Josie bellowed at me, "No! If anyone should die, it's Joseph! He's such a jinx, ruining the mood here as soon as he comes back!" It was another complex sentence, but my mind caught the order this time. 'Die. Joseph.' Without hesitation, I scrambled to my feet, dashed toward the open window, and jumped.

I was the Blackwell family's real heir, lost as a child and recovered only five years ago. After Grandfather's will left me the controlling shares, the adopted son, Damian, jumped into the pool himself and swore I'd pushed him. My parents never bothered to check. They shipped me overnight to the poorest mining belt in Kembala. Three years later, my father called me for the first time. "Damian isn't angry anymore." "Blackwell Forge Holdings is short on cash." "Crawl back here and marry into Gloria Dane's household in Damian's place, so she'll invest in us." I laughed. Gloria Dane was an old woman pushing sixty. What a devoted father he was. But they didn't know that during those three years, I'd quietly built the largest private financial network in the world, the Obsidian Crown Consortium. Now they were days from bankruptcy and still wanted to trade me for money. Fine. I'd been looking for a reason to go back and settle every account.

My parents never let me spend my summer or winter breaks in the city where they worked, even when I offered to go there and look after them. I thought they were just worried about me. Dad said eight people shared a single factory dorm room, and even using the bathroom meant waiting in line. Mom said they worked twelve-hour rotating shifts on the assembly line. Sometimes, she and Dad barely had time to eat. Afraid of being a burden, I eventually stopped asking. The year I finished high school, I used the money I'd been saving for ages to buy a train ticket. I wanted to surprise them. I waited six hours at a diner across from their shop before I finally saw them. They were holding hands with a little boy I'd never seen before. Dad wore a spotless jacket. Mom had her eyebrows perfectly shaped. The little boy was dressed in a private school uniform. He tilted his head up and asked, "Dad, can I turn on the projector and play video games tonight?" Standing across the street, I suddenly felt that there was no point in showing them the screenshot on my phone—the one with my SAT score of 1580.

While negotiating the terms of a project, a client pressured me into downing a large glass of liquor. While I was washing my face in the restroom, I saw my younger sister’s latest Instagram post. [Low salary? What of it? My parents will always support me!] Above the caption was a photo of a property deed with her name on it, along with a message from our parents. [Mom and Dad will always be your safety net!] It was in a newly developed residential complex. It was also the very neighborhood I had been desperately saving up for a downpayment to buy a home in. At that moment, a torrent of complex emotions washed over me. I splashed my face with water. After clearing my head, I sent a message to my manager, Mr. Jenkins. [I’m willing to take on that overseas project you mentioned.]

I was the most notorious terror child in the entire neighborhood. Every day, I threw a tantrum and claimed a parking spot as my own. I refused to let anyone else park there. The other residents had no choice but to leave their cars on the street, where they received expensive parking tickets. I held a neighbor’s seven-year-old pet duck under water until it drowned. The duck had been worth a thousand dollars. I did it simply because I wanted to taste duck meat. In the elevator, I would cancel everyone else’s floors for fun. One day, the elevator broke down. A neighbor was trapped inside so long that they nearly suffocated. My parents were at their wits’ end. More than once, they beat me in public over my actions. They even broke down in front of everyone and cursed me. “How did I end up with such a rotten child?” “Why don’t you just die?” I thought. “But Mom, Dad, weren’t these the very things you taught me?” I lowered my head, heartbroken. “Kid, are your parents bad to you? Why don’t I find you a new mom and dad?” a tempting voice asked. I looked up at the scarred man standing in front of me. Hope flickered across my face. I nodded.

In my past life, after being taken back into the Horton family, I choose to study medicine so I can look after Willow Horton—the fake daughter who is frail and sickly. But she pretends her illness gets worse and slanders me. She says that not only am I unable to save her, but I also want to snatch everything she has. My fiance, Jason Fuller, fully believes her and joins forces with the Hortons to kick me out. Not long after, I contract tuberculosis and die on the street. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day I was brought into the Horton family at five years old. Jason stands before my birth parents, pointing at me as he says, "Mr. and Mrs. Horton, make no mistake. This girl isn't your biological daughter at all." Looking at the disgust on his face, I know he has been reborn too. After my birth parents leave in disappointment, Jason hands me a piece of candy. "The Hortons only need one daughter. Since you want to steal her place, neither the Horton family nor I can keep you around."