قصص وروايات قصيرة تضم Bias وتدور في Family Emotions

At school, I had a nickname. They called me "Mister Wait-Your-Turn." I waited for the sneakers my brother had grown tired of, the backpack my sister thought was ugly, and the phones my parents had already cracked the screens of. Even when it came to taking a shower, I had to wait until everyone else was done. A week ago, Mom had promised me, "On the day of your college entrance exam, you won't have to wait your turn for the shower." So when I finally stumbled into the bathroom, drenched in sweat and smelling awful, I thought my turn had finally come. I was halfway through working up a lather when someone started pounding on the door. "Come out. Let your brother go in." My eyes stung, and I couldn't tell whether it was from the steam or something else. I stood there without moving and gritted my teeth. "But you said I wouldn't have to wait on the day of my exam..." The pounding grew louder. Mom's voice came through the door, edged with impatience. "Let your brother go first. You can wait a little longer!" My hair was still covered in foam, and I'd barely managed to pull my sweat-soaked clothes back on when Mom dragged me out. My brother smiled at me. It was the kind of smile that seemed to say sorry, but there was far more triumph than apology in it. He said he wouldn't take long. His version of "not long" was eighty minutes. By then, my sweat-soaked clothes had dried completely, and the foam in my hair had dried up. After my brother came my sister. After Mom came Dad. The temperature on the water heater dropped from 113°F to 32°F. That was the moment I decided I was done waiting.

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 spent six months and more than 30,000 pounds organizing a ten-day trip to the south coast for my husband and his family. Safe-passage papers, inns along the way, an armed convoy, a private doctor. I even checked the spare tire on every car myself. The night before we left, my husband's ex, Victoria, said she wanted to come along. He didn't even talk it over with me. He just gave her my seat in the convoy and told me to go alone through the Blackmoor district, controlled by a rival gang. That route took 36 hours, and just last month, three people had turned up dead along it, their faces beyond recognition. His parents said Victoria had grown up in their household. The sister-in-law I'd helped raise said Victoria was delicate and couldn't take risks. As for me, I could make money, I knew medicine, and I'd always cleaned up their messes, so of course I should figure it out on my own. On the day they left, I didn't argue anymore, and I didn't chase after the cars. They went south, and I turned and went north. For the next few months, I stayed at a mountain lodge, soaked in hot springs, took only the patients I wanted, and stopped paying all their bills while I was at it. Later, the man who'd never cared whether I was safe pulled nearly every string the family had, just to beg me to take one call.

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."

After graduating from college, I set out to make a new life in Kingshaven with my parents, who had just wrapped up over two decades of teaching in an underserved rural community. To our surprise, as soon as we stepped off the train, we ran straight into Kingshaven’s infamous little tyrant. She clearly had a woman’s appearance, yet she kept insisting she was a man. Of course, I glanced at her a couple of times. “What are you staring at? Never seen a man before? I can’t stand women like you, using your looks to seduce men wherever you go.” We had only just arrived in the capital, so I did not want any trouble. I took my parents by the arm and turned to leave. As I turned, however, she spotted the little wooden bird hanging from my backpack. She suddenly grabbed me and tossed a switchblade at me. “So, you’re another one of my brother’s pathetic admirers. Do you women ever know when to quit? Cut your face so you can’t seduce men anymore, and I’ll let you go.” Mom’s expression darkened with anger, while Dad stepped protectively in front of me. I did not back down. “What makes you think I need your permission to leave?” The tomboy reacted as though I had just told the funniest joke in the world. Even the thugs gathered behind her burst out laughing. “Because my eldest brother, Damian Kane, is the richest man in Kingshaven. My second brother, Antonio Cross, practically owns this city, and my third brother, Julian Reed, is a top superstar. “I’m the beloved little sister of all those men, Sienna Quinn.” Hearing that, my eyes widened in disbelief. Those three names she had just said were the ridiculous names I had jokingly invented for my foster brothers ten years ago.

My parents, Morris Lester and Andrea Smith, got a divorce. My younger brother, Ian Lester, goes with my mother, who marries into money, while I stay with my father, who has just gone bankrupt. However, fate has a twisted sense of humor. My mother remarries Mark Laurent, an abusive man, and her life spirals downward. My father, on the other hand, pulls himself together and builds a successful business from the ground up. Ian becomes green with jealousy. He pretends to be pitiful, begs me to take him shopping, and drives us straight into a car crash that kills us both. When I open my eyes again, we're back on the day our parents file a divorce. This time, Ian pipes up, "I want to stay with Dad and make a better life together!" I keep a straight face, but deep down, I'm over the moon. I, Ethan Lester, refuse to spend another lifetime living like a fugitive.

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?

"Mom, help! Dad locked me in the car!" It was 2:00 pm in the blazing heat of a summer afternoon, and my heart stopped when I heard my daughter's panicked voice. I immediately began searching for my daughter, but my husband sounded impatient when he answered my call. "Holly's in a bad mood. I'm taking her to the amusement park. Why are you overreacting? She'll be fine." He sounded annoyed and hung up immediately after he was done speaking. The dial tone buzzed in my ear, but all I could think was that he'd better pray nothing happened to her.

On matriculation day, I carried my acceptance letter to the campus grounds to register alone. But before I could cross the threshold, the guards drove me back into the street with their anti-riot forks. Humiliated and bewildered, I reached for my phone to call my childhood friend, Daisy Reid. A sharp laughter rippled through the receiver. “Violet, are you truly that blind behind those glasses? The letter you swept off the desk was a forgery I mocked up. Your actual one is still sitting at home.” Panicked, I hastily booked a return ticket and hurried back to search for my letter. I scoured the house for hours, turning up nothing. Just then, Daisy’s personalized ringtone sang out from my palm. “Stop looking. “Bryan has it. He’s over at Millfield now.” Without a moment’s hesitation, I boarded the train to Millfield. But the second I stepped out onto the platform, a video call from Daisy flashed onto my display. “You gullible fool, did you genuinely travel all that way to hunt down Bryan? “It was just a joke. “Truth be told, the guards didn’t chase you off because of a counterfeit letter. I tipped them off that you were hauling concealed explosives…” She swung the phone around, showing Bryan Hawke, another childhood friend, who was dotingly fanning her with a brochure. Directly behind them stood my brother Harry, who was supposedly halfway across the globe on an extended getaway. “Hey Violet, what’s with the face? Learn to take a joke for once,” he teased with a chuckle. I could not move an inch. Turned out his elaborate cover story of an overseas holiday was nothing more than a ruse to escort Daisy to her new college. Gazing at the three laughing faces, something dawned on me. Their cruel entertainment, paid for with my dignity for eighteen years, had run its course.

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.

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 am a real estate agent. My mom, Irma Bond, comes to me privately and asks me to sell her apartment. She explains, "Your dad is having trouble with his business. I want to give him a little assistance." This apartment was left to her by my grandmother, Anita Crosby. It was meant to be a safe haven just for her. For my dad, she is selling her own refuge at a low price. Soon, a buyer contacts me. The woman says to me, "Hi. Could you reserve the apartment for me first? I'll have my partner give it to me as a birthday gift next week." The moment I catch a glimpse of her profile photo featuring her and her partner, I freeze. It's my dad! I nod with a smile as I reply, "Of course. I look forward to seeing him soon."

During a family gathering, my daughter drove her rideable toy car straight into me and shattered my leg because she wanted to stand up for her live-in manny, Wilson Smith. As I lay on the ground in agony, she glared at me and said, "You're not my dad! Wilson takes care of me. He's kind to me. Mom and I both like him!" From where I had fallen, I looked up and saw Wilson standing at the center of the crowd, surrounded by smiles and admiration. At that moment, a bitter realization settled over me. I mattered less than a manny to my own family. I soon filed for divorce. Then, I signed up for a community revitalization initiative and spent the next twenty years helping struggling communities build better lives. My family did not need me, but somewhere else in the world, there were people who did.

Before I turned eighteen, my girlfriend, Sylvie Carter, who knew I loved surprises, would come up with all sorts of creative ways to surprise me with gifts every day. So when I turned eighteen, she wrapped herself up and presented herself as a present to me. I spent the whole night ‘unwrapping’ her with my face beet red. From then on, she would oblige all of my whims. With anyone else, on the other hand, she would only respond with no, she couldn’t, or she wouldn’t. Whenever we made love, she would hold me close and whisper in my ear, “Theodore, I will love you forever as long as you are with me.” With that, I was made Mr. Theodore Carter, the subject of everyone’s envy. On our first wedding anniversary, we were so caught up in pleasure that we ended up missing a call from her father, Maurice Carter, which led to him becoming paralyzed. Consumed by guilt, I spent the next two years looking after him without so much as a complaint. On our second wedding anniversary, he tore up my marriage certificate with Sylvie for the ninth time. I went to the city hall again to get a replacement, only to discover to my horror that I had been ‘divorced’ from Sylvie for twenty-three days. When I confronted her, she pleaded, “My dad isn’t doing very well, and I had to sign the divorce papers to keep him from being upset. I’ll cancel the divorce after the waiting period, alright?” Then, when Maurice started to pressure her into marrying her childhood sweetheart, all she did was hesitate briefly before justifying it, “It’s just a formality! As I said, I will cancel the divorce, and you will always be the one and only Mr. Carter.” As if that wasn’t enough, she ended up crossing a line and sleeping with him on the night of the wedding despite telling me she would never do that. After that, she remarked briskly, “I’m going away with them for a short getaway. Would you cancel the divorce?” I nodded. Then, I went ahead and finalized the divorce before returning with the divorce certificates. Little did she know, our marriage had ended the very moment she tricked me into signing those divorce papers.

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 father's adopted daughter was only locked in the cramped storage closet for around fifteen minutes, yet he punished me by tying me up and throwing me inside. He even sealed off the ventilation with towels. "As Wendy's older sister, if you can't take care of her, then you should also experience how scared she was," he declared coldly. He knew I was claustrophobic, but my desperate pleas for mercy, my terror, were met with nothing but heartless reprimands. "Let this be a lesson on how to be a good sister." As the last sliver of light disappeared, swallowed by the oppressive darkness, I struggled helplessly. A week passed before my father finally remembered my existence and decided it was time to end my punishment. "Let's hope this week served as a good lesson for you, Jennifer. If this happens again, you will no longer be allowed in this house." He would never know that I had already taken my last breath in that suffocating room. My body had begun to rot in the darkness.