Familial Bond Short Stories & Hypocrisy Regret Novels

Jethro Miles was an orphan sponsored by my dad. The moment I laid eyes on him, I flipped. Despite my family's objections, we dated for seven years, even as my dad threatened to disown me. Eventually, my dad relented and consented to our marriage. But as we exchanged rings, a young woman in a white dress burst into the venue, staring at Jethro with tears in her eyes. He chased after her, abandoning our wedding. Later, I learned that the woman was his childhood friend from the orphanage. Jethro desperately tried to explain, "Nancy grew up with me. She is like a sister to me. She's been through abuse and divorce. Please, give me time to help her, okay?" Tears blurred my vision as I watched him plead so fervently, my heart plummeting into despair. I managed, "Okay." Jethro took care of Nancy and her son as if they were his real family. What he didn't know were the two secrets I'd kept from him when my dad finally agreed to our marriage: I was pregnant, and I was dying.

Ever since I was little, my mother, Cynthia, used me as a living cautionary tale whenever she wanted to teach my older brother, Oliver, a lesson. When Oliver bullied a kid at school, she made me shave my head and pick up trash so he could see what it was like to be humiliated and laughed at. When Oliver stole an action camera from an outdoor gear store, she made me kneel in the snow and apologize to the manager so he'd learn what shame felt like. Lately, Oliver had become obsessed with extreme sports and started messing with pills from who-knows-where. To make the lesson stick, Mom secretly mixed something that would make me throw up and a muscle relaxant into the vitamin capsules I took after breakfast every day. She figured a dose that small would only make me throw up and give me diarrhea, just enough to scare my brother. But I had a bad cold and had already taken cold medicine. The combination of drugs soon left me struggling to breathe. I collapsed on the rug, convulsing. Dad rushed me to the ER, but on the way, we hit a police checkpoint. He'd already passed the breathalyzer when Mom shouted at the officers, "You need to check him again! He's on sedatives. How did you miss that?" She pointed at me in the back seat, my face already turning blue, then jerked her chin toward Oliver. "See that? Are you ever going to swallow random pills people give you again?" Oliver burst into tears and swore he'd never touch those pills again. Only then did Mom look satisfied. What she didn't notice was that her living cautionary tale could barely lift a hand. Mom, you're always complaining that Oliver never learns his lesson. Maybe losing me will finally teach him the lesson you've been trying so hard to drill into him. Would that make you happy?

After Mom stabbed Aunt Serena and was sent to prison, Aunt Serena became our new mother. The same Serena who used to “wrestle” with Dad in bed every afternoon at three o’clock. Everyone praised her for being kind and virtuous. They said she treated her husband’s children from his first marriage as if they were her own. She was practically the perfect stepmother. I believed them too. So when she told me there was a way to get to heaven and see Mom again, I believed her. I even carried along the baby brother she had just given birth to. And together, we followed her lie all the way to heaven.

On the day I moved into my freshman dorm, my mother posted a screenshot of a six-hundred-dollar wire transfer in the family group chat. [Giselle, you can't go without at school. Mom will always have your back.] The relatives all praised her as a generous, open-minded mother. Behind the scenes, though, she told me to click decline on the money, and sent me a chart instead: the Family Attendance Chart. [Reply to messages within ten seconds. Answer video calls within three. Every violation costs you ten dollars.] After she'd starved me sick a few times, I never dared miss one of her check-ins again. Then came today's anatomy class. My hands were submerged in formaldehyde, and I missed six of them. By the time I'd scrubbed up, she'd already docked my allowance for the month into the negative. Her voice message was gentle, laced with hurt. "Giselle, you've disappointed me so much. Your allowance is zeroed out. Think hard about what you've done." I fainted on the way back to my dorm, my blood sugar crashing from hunger. When I came to in the campus infirmary, my brother had sent me a message. [Mom's so generous. She gave me six hundred as a dating fund so I could really enjoy the whole college romance experience. Bet you got some too, huh?] Staring at my bruised, IV-punctured hand, I suddenly felt like a joke. Calmly, I went to the nurses' station, signed off on refusing the rest of my treatment, and blocked every one of their contacts. This kind of love, the kind you had to clock in for just to be handed a scrap of it? I didn't want it anymore.

My mom often makes an example out of someone when it comes to parenting. Unfortunately, I'm that someone, while my little brother, Raymond Nelson, benefits from it. Ever since I was four years old, my mom had been using this method. If Raymond breaks a bowl, I'm the one kneeling on the floor to pick up the pieces. If Raymond destroys something belonging to someone else, I'm the one writing the reflection report on his behalf. Mom tells me, "You're the older sister here. Since you can't keep your brother in line, you're the one at fault." But Raymond can never get rid of his bad habit of stealing and lying. When Franklin Harris, the owner of a grocery store, comes knocking on our door, Raymond points at me once again. "She was the one who stole your money!" In order to help Raymond get rid of this problematic habit of his, Mom decides to hand me over to the owner. "Sorry, Franklin. It's my fault for not raising my child well. I'll give my daughter to you. You can do whatever you want to her, be it scolding her or beating her up." Little does she know that I will never go home after Mr. Harris takes me away.

My girlfriend and I had agreed to marry as soon as we graduated. But after I waited three hours at the registration hall, she registered with my stepbrother instead. He had been in love with her for ten years, and now he was being sent to the deadliest front in space. “He won't survive without me,” she said. “Once he's gone, I'll still be yours.” My father and stepmother told me to be the bigger person. As I looked at their self-righteous faces, I accepted a command at the same front and became my stepbrother's highest-ranking superior. By the time news of my victories—and my wedding—reached home, every one of them had lost their minds with regret.

I was Sofia De Luca, the only biological daughter of Marco De Luca, the most powerful Don. Then my parents adopted Celeste De Luca as my younger sister, and everything changed. My birthday party could be cancelled because she threw a fit. My place at the elite academy went to her. Even the ruby brooch my grandmother left me was taken away because she said she liked it. On nothing but Celeste's word, my parents branded me a traitor to the De Luca family and personally handed me over to a rival family as a hostage. I endured every kind of torment there. They toured the world with their adopted daughter and lived in luxury. They forgot me completely. It was only when Celeste finally caused a disaster too big to bury that they remembered I existed. But once I was actually dead, the regret drove them out of their minds. If there really is another life, I have only one wish. I hope they learn how to be decent parents. But I do not want to be their daughter again.

When my best friend died, his wife, Mia Lewis, was eight months pregnant. Mia said she didn't want her baby growing up without a father. I owed my best friend my life. He saved me, literally pulled me from death's door. So I stepped up, marrying Mia and raising their son as my own. Mia loved her career, so I quit mine. Traded my job for diapers and school runs. For seven whole years, I cooked, cleaned, folded laundry, and handled the housework. Rain or shine, sickness or health, I was there—every single day. Mia, though? She stayed cold, distant. Her warmth only surfaced in the bedroom—and even then, it was a flicker, never a flame. Just soft sighs and breathy murmurs, like she was playing a role she couldn't wait to finish. Afterward, she would quietly check the condom, as if she couldn't trust me. Then came New Year's Eve. A snap. A tear. A broken condom. Her fury struck like a thunderclap. She locked me out on the balcony, left me standing in the freezing rain, soaked to the bone as the wind howled like a wounded beast. Teeth chattering, I shivered as I watched the door like a dog, waiting to be let in. Then I saw him. Our boy, Ethan Bailey. Six years old. My son, at least in name. He came running with an umbrella in his hand. For a second, my heart leapt. 'Maybe, just maybe…' But he didn't even look at me. Just walked past in silence and handed the umbrella to the nanny heading out. Right then and there, something inside me cracked. I knew it was time to go.

Queenie Zeller, my sister, gets mad at Mom and Dad and sets off a gas canister in the house. They all make it out of the house unharmed, while I suffer severe burns all over my body and lose one of my legs to amputation since I'm fast asleep inside. Mom and Dad spend all day crying their eyes out, right up until Queenie comes home with a boy and a paternity test report. Overnight, I am reduced to the fake heir who's accidentally switched at birth. Just like that, half of the family's guilt vanishes. I barely scrape by until I turn 18. They all head out to the rightful heir's birthday banquet, leaving me lying in bed, twisting and writhing in pain. Mom and Dad are away on a business trip, so no one has helped me change positions for a long time. It has gotten so bad that the wounds on my back have become infested with maggots, making the itch unbearable. I try to turn over on my own, only to end up falling onto the floor. Suddenly, I hear a voice filled with suppressed anger carrying over from the balcony next door. "How long are you going to hide the fact that you fabricated the paternity test from your parents, Queenie?" Queenie snaps, immediately becoming defensive. "Shut up! I brought Nathan back because I wanted to keep our family from falling apart. Do you want me to tell them I lied because I felt guilty? "Where does that leave me, then? How am I supposed to stay in this family? I don't want all of us to spend our whole lives drowning in guilt over Henry! It's just a harmless lie meant to protect everyone!" I lie on the floor, frozen in shock. Is that lie supposed to protect me, then?

I got my marriage certificate with the heir of the most powerful family of the city in the morning. By the afternoon, he took me to file for divorce. I clutched the documents and stood frozen as his friends burst into unrestrained laughter around me. “Julian, just because Elena said that, you actually married Maya just to divorce her right away?” “Haha, look at her face. She’s gone pale. Is she about to cry?” However, Julian simply pulled my adopted sister, Elena, into his arms. His voice was soft with affection. “Now that we’ve got divorced, will you finally smile for me?” Elena let out a chuckle. Her cool, aloof face bloomed into a smile. I tried to step forward and question Julian, but my three brothers held me back. My eldest brother, the CEO, frowned and said, “Elena only smiles for him. Try having some decency.” My second brother, the actor, shoved me to the ground. “She’s had a hard life. You have everything. You don’t need this one man.” My third brother, a biology professor, said coldly, “Julian should’ve married her long ago. Stop interfering.” They forced me into the car, refusing to let me stand in the way of their love and her happiness. At that moment, the system that had been silent for so long finally came online: [Host, the objective has been completed. Do you wish to return to the real world now?] I sat in the back seat, gazing out the window. I almost let out a laugh. The tragic play I had put on for this mission was finally over. From now on, I wanted no part in their lives.

My younger sister and I were born twins, yet from the very beginning, our parents had zero fondness for me. My sister was the family's good-luck charm, while I was hailed as the harbinger of misfortune. I was blamed for every calamity, while she got all the credit for every blessing. Even after my death, I heard them say, "If we had abandoned her at birth, or even ended her life then, none of this would have happened." I had once tried desperately to win their approval, only to be met with cold indifference. When I finally secured a coveted civil service post, they celebrated me for the first time in my life. I naively believed that I had been acknowledged at last. But then, they said, "Give your job to your sister. She needs it more." At that moment, something inside me completely died. I tried so hard to cling to the hard-won proof that I was not the family's misfortune, yet even that slipped through my grasp. In the end, I lost everything, even the life they had never once cherished.

Every month on the 15th is the day I swap lives with Melody Foster. 18 years ago, a hospital mix-up places our IVF embryos in each other's mothers. After the truth comes out, my biological parents want their real daughter, and my adoptive parents want theirs. They arrange for Melody and me to rotate between the two homes on a monthly basis, switching every 15th. From then on, I become the burden neither family wants. In whichever home Melody stays, there are endless snacks and drinks, thousands of dollars in monthly allowance, and the sunny bedroom is always reserved for her. In whichever home I stay, there's nothing but plain meals and a windowless storage room. 18 years later, I find out I have kidney failure, and Melody turns out to be a compatible donor. My adoptive parents toss me a form to sign away my right to treatment. "We raised you, and that's more than enough. Go ask your real parents for money. You're not getting our daughter's kidney, so don't even think about it." My biological parents fall to their knees, begging. "We know we've failed you, but losing you we can live with. Melody is our whole world!" Just then, I get a call from the hospital. "Sorry, we mixed up the records again. The one with kidney failure is actually Melody." Everything clicks into place. I sell the jewelry my grandmother left me, buy a camera and a full set of gear. From now on, I'll be a lone traveler, roaming wherever the road takes me.

After earning my architect license, I posted a celebratory update on social media. When I got home that evening, I found my uncle, Cameron Mitchell, and my cousin, Parker Mitchell, waiting for me. I hadn't heard from them in ages. "Adrian, I heard you're working for a major construction firm now," Cameron said, puffing away on his cigarette. "Well, Parker's getting married and needs a new house built. Draw up the blueprints tonight so construction can start tomorrow. "You're in the business, so you might as well handle the site supervision and material procurement, too. Take care of everything!" I'd barely sat down before he dumped a huge responsibility on my shoulders. "Uncle Cam, I specialize in industrial architecture. That's completely different from building a private home in the countryside." At that, Cameron's face immediately fell. "What's the difference? Isn't it all just laying bricks and stacking walls? "Did all those years of education go straight down the drain? Can't you even handle a simple country house? I think you've gotten yourself an important position and forgotten what family means." Out of consideration for our family ties, I agreed to his request. But after I finished building the house, why did he come crying and begging me to tear it down as soon as possible?

I spent three hundred dollars on a brand-new phone for my mother, only for her to start saying that the smartphone was stealing her money and that I had personally siphoned off her bank balance. I could never win the argument. So I offered to just reimburse whatever “loss” she imagined. She got even more unhappy. She slapped a stack of receipts on the table and demanded I pay up. “Where did you buy this piece of junk? It’s a ticking time bomb. Give me my money back!” Most of the receipts were for men’s sneakers and athletic wear; the rest were household basics like brooms and hangers. I felt a wave of suffocating frustration. Since when was shopping free? Why was I expected to pay for her? I bought her a new phone, and I just became the ATM? “Fine. If you hate it that much, I’m taking it back to the store.” But she would not let go.

When the prestigious Mercer family finally tracked my brother, Shawn, down, he was digging through a dumpster, trying to scrape together enough bottles and cans to pay for my surgery. He didn’t care about the fleet of luxury cars in front of him. His only condition for going with them was that they had to take me, his blind little sister, along too. However, when we arrived at the Mercer estate, their spoiled daughter, Ava—who was Shawn’s biological sister—looked at the two of us in our dirty, tattered clothes with absolute disgust. I couldn’t see it, but I could feel Shawn's protective arms around my shoulders. He leaned down and whispered, "Don't be afraid, El. I'm right here." With his exceptional talent, Shawn quickly outshone Ava in everything, and before long, her disgust for him turned into worship. However, he also left me far behind. Eventually, I could no longer join in on their conversations, and the younger sister Shawn spoke of was no longer me, but her. The breaking point came on the day he officially took over the Mercer family empire, when Ava and I both fell into the river at the same time. "Ava!" Shawn rushed over from a distance. There was a loud splash as he dove into the water and saved her, forgetting I was even there. My heart sank as I drowned in the water. I didn’t even try to struggle. Shawn lied to me. We were never actually family.

Mom always said I was dead to the world when I slept. I would suddenly doze off in the middle of class, while eating, even halfway across the street. My homeroom teacher suggested I get checked at a hospital, but Mom brushed it off with a scoff. "She just stayed up all night on her phone!" After that, my phone was confiscated, the lock on my door was removed, and every time I showed the slightest sign of drowsiness, I got slapped awake. I did not want to be hit, and I did not want Mom to get angry, so I started pinching my thighs, yanking my hair, even downing medicated oil just to stay awake. But when that wave of sleep hit, nothing could stop it. On the day of the final exam, Mom happened to be assigned as one of the proctors. I bit through my lip, silently begging myself, 'Just this once. Just hold on.' But in the end, I still couldn't fight it. The desk was suddenly flipped over. I went down with my chair, crashing hard onto the floor. My head struck the edge of the desk, and darkness swallowed everything in an instant. Mom stood beside me, furious and disappointed. "Cecelia Thorne, are you really so obsessed with sleeping that you don't even care about your final exams? If you're that lazy, then lie there and keep sleeping!" I lay sprawled over my exam paper, my vision dimming bit by bit. Mom, this time, I might really sleep for a long, long time.

Alexander Morrison doesn't love me, nor does he love our daughter. The only person he loves is his first love, Charlotte Clarke. To maintain his perfect image in Charlotte's eyes, he only allows our daughter to call him "Uncle Alex". This continues until Charlotte becomes pregnant and goes abroad to marry someone else. Alexander drinks himself into oblivion and finally decides to marry me. When he comes home, our daughter gives him 100 forgiveness coupons. I tell him that once those 100 coupons are used up, I'll take our daughter and leave him forever. He holds us both tightly in his arms, swearing he will never make us sad again. During the initial few years of our secret marriage, he indeed does exceptionally well, as not a single coupon is used. That is, until Charlotte returns to the country with her daughter. Every time he abandons me and our daughter for Charlotte and her child, I tear off one forgiveness coupon. Now, only three coupons remain.

Every Merfolk Queen possessed the gift of weeping tears that turned to pearls, amassing fortunes to rival the wealth of kingdoms. After bearing eight sons, the queen adopted a sea serpent shape-shifter and named her our Holy Maiden, intending for her to inherit the throne. Then, a century later, the old queen, against all expectations, conceived once more and gave birth to me. My eight older brothers adored me. Our entire kingdom hailed me as their future queen. However, I was born without tear ducts. I could not cry, which made me a worthless mermaid who could not produce a pearl. In the original timeline, my adopted sister told me of an enchanted spring on land that could make me weep. I trusted her blindly and followed her ashore. I let my tail turn into legs. She set fire to every path I could have taken back to the sea, then strung me up beneath the blazing sun. My scales cracked and peeled away. I could not even shed a tear as I was left to burn and shrivel in the sun until I died. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day of her coronation as the Holy Maiden. She was holding my hand and smiling with sisterly affection. “Don’t be afraid, little sister. I’ll shed the tears you can’t. I’ll look after our people for you.” I saw through her false affection, but I did not expose her. Instead, I obediently fastened the Pearl of the Sea God, the symbol of our sovereign’s power, around her neck. Everyone believed a mermaid who could not weep was worthless. Though none of them knew why I could not shed a tear. Even before my birth, I had turned every tear into deadly quicksilver, a poison that could corrode even a divine soul. I touched the burning corners of my eyes. I could hardly wait to see her face when she used that enchanted spring to force me to cry, only for my tears to blind her.