Male POV Familial Bond Short Stories & Novels

After being away from home for three months, my wife, Victoria Sterling, and our daughter, Sophie Sterling, came looking for me, crying as they begged me to come home. Once I was back, they treated me better than ever. They brought breakfast to my bedside, gave me free rein with their black cards, and when I casually mentioned wanting a new car, three brand-new sports cars showed up the very next day. But when Ethan White, Victoria’s childhood sweetheart and first love, accused me of stealing his design drafts, Victoria didn’t bother asking for an explanation. She smashed her phone against my face and snapped, “What do you have to say for yourself?” Sophie yelled at me too. “Get on your knees and apologize to Ethan! Otherwise, get out of the Sterling family!” I looked up at their furious faces. Then I suddenly laughed. Why should I apologize? I’m not even Victoria’s real husband.

In my family, I'm the only son in my household who is raised on an installment plan. Because in this family, my parents refuse to raise a useless child. When my sister wants concert tickets, he just has to help Mom sweep the floor once, and he gets them. When my brother wants to install a gaming setup in her room, she just has to give Dad a quick shoulder massage. But me? Every time I need money, I have to sign an IOU. Over 18 years, I've accumulated a drawerful of IOUs, piled together like a thick ledger. And because asking for money feels like the ultimate humiliation, I gradually learn to live frugally. This summer, I work three jobs and scrape together enough to cover my college tuition. But when I reach the bus stop, I realize I've left my dorm key at home. There's nothing I can do but call Mom. "Mom, I left my key at home. Could you please bring it to me?" She pauses. "I'm busy. I'm making cookies for your brother right now. I'll mail them to you in a couple of days." The problem is… the "couple of days" soon turns into a whole week. On the seventh day, the package finally arrives. When I tear it open, I find a note alongside my key. "Miles Martinez owes Vanessa Leech ten dollars for postage, to be repaid by the end of the month." At the bottom, she even thoughtfully leaves a blank space for the date. I clutch the note as tears well up in my eyes, blurring the words on it. After a long while, I pull out my phone and send a message to my professor. "Professor, I've decided to accept the offer to study abroad. Please submit my name for the scholarship application." Once I settle every last debt, I'll walk away with a clean slate to chase a life that's mine and mine alone.

At three in the morning, my phone rang. It was my mother. The problem was, Mom had been dead for three years. “Honey, listen to me.” Her voice came through the phone so clearly that for one terrifying second, it felt like she was standing right beside my bed. “Don’t go to work next Wednesday. There’s going to be a fire at your office. “Take a day off. Tell your supervisor you have a family emergency out of town. Whatever you do, make sure you’re not in that building on Wednesday.” I shot upright in bed, my heart hammering against my ribs. “Mom?” My voice trembled. “Remember. Do not go to work on Wednesday.” Her voice began breaking up, as though the signal were failing. “And one more thing. Your dad’s study. The third shelf. That copy of ‘One Hundred Years of Solitude’. There’s something tucked inside.” The call suddenly disconnected. I sat frozen in the darkness. My entire body had gone cold. This wasn’t the first time I had received a call like this. The first one came three months ago. Mom had warned me not to take the subway that morning because there would be an accident on the Red Line. I hadn’t believed her. That day, a major signal failure brought a train to a halt inside a tunnel for two hours. No one was hurt, but I showed up so late that I lost an important client. The second call came a month ago. She told me not to eat seafood because I would get food poisoning. I was skeptical, but something about the first call still bothered me, so I skipped the dinner my coworkers had planned. That night, all seven people who went ended up in the hospital. The doctors confirmed they had all gotten food poisoning from the seafood. And now, for the third time, my dead mother had called me.

My older brother, Oliver Stewart, and I are twins, but he was born frail and sickly. My parents tell me, "Your mother lavished you with love while you were in the womb and fed you all the nutrients, so we'll now focus on giving Oliver love." And so, Oliver receives all their love since childhood. When we were young, my parents got Oliver the best education. When we become adults, my parents prepare a generous budget for his wedding and later help him raise his children too. One day, my parents—now old and frail—suddenly come looking for me. "We've gone above and beyond for Oliver, so we'll live with you from now on and make things up to you," they say to me. However, I now have a wife who loves me, as well as a cute daughter and a handsome son. I haven't needed my parents for a long time.

After my daughter was admitted to the ICU for liver failure, the doctor said she had at most seven days to live. My wife, Jessica Holland, grabbed my hand tightly. "Kevin, Tanya can still be saved!" The doctor handed me the organ donation consent form, but I didn't take it. Instead, I pulled out three documents and laid them in front of Jessica. "Sign these, and I'll donate." She glanced down and completely froze. The first was a divorce agreement, the second was a waiver of joint assets, and the third was a share transfer agreement. Jessica held a 12% stake in Eterspring Pharmaceutical. She earned that by building the business with me for eight years. I wanted her to transfer every single share to me. "Are you out of your mind?!" My mother rushed up and slapped me. She looked at me in disbelief. "Tanya's in there, fighting for her life, but you're using her to force your wife to divorce you without taking any assets?" I pushed the pen toward Jessica. "Once all the paperwork is done, I'll do the surgery immediately. All three documents must be signed." Jessica grabbed the divorce agreement and threw it in my face. I walked out without looking back.

The school bully bullies a female student, then pins the blame on me. I immediately call the police, only for my own mother to give testimony for him instead. "You may be my son, but I can't bend the law or cover for you! What you did was against the law. I'll only have you sent away for a few years to straighten you out." Due to her false testimony, I am thrown into prison for three years. Three years later, my mother looks at me with remorse and says, "I owed the bully's father my life. You've paid off that debt with three years of your life. From now on, we can put everything behind us and live a happy life!" Upon hearing her words, I scoff and throw my lawyer's complaint at her. "No, I'll live a happy life. "And you'd better prepare yourself for my appeal to overturn the verdict! You owed him a debt. That doesn't mean I had to pay for it."

As the only child born after Mom and Dad's remarriage, everyone says that I'm the most obedient and well-behaved one. I'm also the best role model for my older half-brother, Matt Hammond, and my older half-sister, Carrie Hammond. Matt is a troublemaker who loves getting into trouble. He once stole Mom's diamond necklace and sold it to buy skins for his online games. But as Mom is his stepmother, she finds disciplining him hard and therefore only lashes out at me when she catches me eating tortilla chips and gives me a good beating. "Were you the one who bought these chips? How dare you eat them without asking permission first? That's stealing! You're behaving like a thief!" Meanwhile, Carrie is naturally rebellious and dreams of being a pop star to go after her idol. Because of that, she refuses to go to school. But as Dad is her stepfather, he finds disciplining her hard as well. So, he lashes out at me instead by sending me off to the countryside for two months of "reformation" just because I missed a couple of points on the midterm exams. "Since you don't care about studying hard, then you might as well just work as a laborer in the countryside for the rest of your life!" Soon after, Matt and Carrie decide to run off before the SAT. Matt wants to go and meet his online girlfriend, Tracy Wilkins, and Carrie wants to attend a concert. As punishment, Mom and Dad tie me up tightly to the bed before locking the bedroom door from the outside. The more I struggle, the tighter the knots become. I stare at the locked door and say to myself, "If there ever is a next life, I don't want to be the 'good' kid anymore…"

At a community party held to commend Dad, the community association director taps the microphone and makes an announcement. He says, "Mr. Cohen is selfless indeed. He has donated all the profits from his son's cafe to Jared Leroy. He solved the biggest problem that Gavin Leroy's household is facing." I think I must have heard him wrong. So the reason my accounts never added up was because my dad, Leonard Cohen, had given away my cafe's profits. But Dad straightens himself and says to me, "Gavin once saved my life, Hugh. Now, his family can't even afford the rent. What's wrong with you helping them out a little?" "Then what about me?" I ask in a shaky voice. Dad says with a frown, "You're different. After all, you're young. A little hardship will help you grow." Tears fall onto the account book clenched in my hands, blurring the ink. "If you're so desperate to have someone repay your kindness like you're their savior," I say, tearing out the last page of the ledger. "Then let Jared be the one to support you when you're old."

The day before New Year's Eve, my wealthy parents, Mitchell Parker and Delilah Smith, and my sister, Mila Parker, finally agree to ring in the New Year with me at the amusement park. However, when I arrive there, they are nowhere to be found. When I text them, they tell me they're stuck in traffic and will be late. I wait alone there until the clock hits midnight. Then, I come across my adopted brother Leo Meyer's Instagram post. He's dressed in an expensive suit, holding the piano trophy he has just won, with Mom, Dad, and Mila gathered around him at a New Year's Eve party. The caption reads, "It's another year with my family who truly loves me." His friends start liking the post. This isn't the first time my family has stood me up. But this time, I don't make a scene. I just leave a comment. "How wonderful. Happy New Year to the four of you."

It is my third year in prison after taking the blame for the adopted son of the Ingram family, Seth Ingram. Because of my good behavior, I am released early and return home ahead of time. The whole family is celebrating Seth's birthday. When my sister, Sheryl Ingram, sees me in my cheap tracksuit, a hint of disgust appears on her face. My fiancee, Isabella Kennedy, who once promised to wait for me, speaks up and says she'll put me in some storage room for now. "Seth has a weak body. You just got out of prison, Matthew. You need to stay away from him so that the germs you carry won't get to him." I don't argue or make a scene. I do as I'm told without objection. I understand that I've long lost my place in this family. Sheryl's hand pauses as she cuts the cake. "I thought you'd make a fuss like you used to. Looks like prison did you some good. You've become much more sensible." I force a smile. The cramping in my stomach seems to start acting up again. I don't argue back. I've accepted my fate.

My younger brother, Lance Knight, is an illegitimate son with a shameful existence. He's always been at odds with me from a young age. Whenever I rank first in an exam, Lance will report me to the school authorities for cheating. After I've joined my family company as a member of the board of directors, Lance goes as far as ramming his sports car into the company's main entrance. Once I start dating my girlfriend, Amethyst Wyndham, Lance does everything he can to steal her from me. Thank goodness Amethyst is naturally cold, aloof, and haughty due to her scholarly background. Whenever Lance proclaims his love for her in a seemingly devoted manner, she tends to reward him with a ruthless slap. "I'm your future sister-in-law. You'd better get rid of those disgraceful thoughts of yours." Later on, Lance finally accepts his fate. He no longer fights with me. Instead, he begins tempering his skills as an employee of the lowest rank in the company. Our father, Jeremiah Knight, openly praises Lance for his efforts at the year-end company gala. Even Amethyst makes a proud remark about Lance finally becoming mature. But on the night I officially take over the company as the CEO, Lance sends me a video clip. In that video, Amethyst, who has skipped out on the ceremony, can be seen nestling against Lance seductively.

The day summer break started after my third year of college, Mom and Dad drove over in their SUV to pick us up. My older sister, Janet Gould, helped carry the luggage. My younger brother, Harvey Gould, clung to Mom and soaked up her attention. When I carried my duffel bag downstairs, they stared at me in shock. None of them recognized me. "Liam, is that you? How did you lose so much weight?" Mom looked me over, her expression hard to read. For a moment, I thought she was worried about me. But then she suddenly frowned. "You're not sick, are you? We don't have health insurance for you." Janet looked at me with disgust. "Did you lose all that weight just to compete with Harvey for attention? That's ridiculous." Dad leaned out of the car. "Stop wasting time. Our table at the restaurant will be ready any minute. Same as always. Harvey gets car sick, so he sits in the front. Janet will sit in the back. "There's not enough room. Liam, just take a cab." I gripped my duffel bag tighter. "But it's a five-seater. Now that I'm…" Before I could finish, they drove away. I stood there staring at my luggage for a long time. I used to weigh 240 pounds. When Mom bought Janet a designer jacket that cost over a thousand dollars, she said they didn't have my size, so I didn't get one. Harvey wore basketball shoes that cost a few hundred dollars. Dad said they'd be too tight on my feet because of my weight, so I didn't get a pair either. I used to think they left me out of the car because I was too heavy. But it turns out even after losing 90 pounds, there was still no place for me in this family. If that's how it is, I won't try to fit in anymore.

My family is democratic. Every decision is always settled by a family vote. Mom, Dad, my older brother, and my little sister each get one vote. I get one vote too. But the problem is that four votes always beat one. I never win. When I'm a sophomore in high school, my brother, Jonathan Hayes, wants a new computer. The vote passes four to one. The money I'd spent three years saving for college course fees disappears overnight. During senior year, I earn an early admission offer from North City University. My little sister, Jasmine Hayes, bursts into tears, saying she doesn't want me to move so far away. So, the family holds another vote. Dad places an application form on the table and says, "The majority has spoken. You'll attend the local teachers college." I argue that I've worked myself to the bone to get into North City University. Mom frowns. "Why are you so stubborn? If you stay here, you'll be able to help Jon later and also keep an eye on Jas. Wouldn't that be better for everyone?" Then, when Jonathan's startup business runs into financial trouble, Dad picks up my admission letter and announces that my tuition money will be loaned to Jonathan first. Jasmine links her arm through mine and says with a smile, "Josh, everyone has already voted. You can't be upset just because you lost." Looking at the admission letter that's decided by their votes, I suddenly find it absurd. So, this is what they call democracy—four of them legally deciding what I should lose. That night, I don't argue. I go online and fill in an application to a classified research program in the Northwest Podin Desert. From then on, the only vote that matters is my own.

My parents hand me this year's "atonement list", which includes a Porsche worth at least six figures. They claim that my late brother, Caleb Patterson, loved luxury cars above all else. Even though he died saving my life, they say I owe it to him to buy a real one and burn it in his memory. That way, he can enjoy it in the afterlife. Just as I'm about to drain my savings to appease them—just as I've done for the past ten years—I receive a notification about a trending post titled, "How do you get the oldest child to willingly spend their whole life slaving away for the younger one?" After a moment's thought, I tap the notification and start typing a reply, one word at a time. "I'm the oldest child, but I'm adopted. Ten years ago, my younger brother drowned while saving my life. I owe my family my life, so no matter how outrageous my parents' demands are, I'll do everything in my power to fulfill them. I see it as my way of carrying my brother's share of caring for our parents too." But before I can hit post, a top-voted comment from the original poster catches my eye. "What's so hard about that? Ten years ago, I got myself into trouble and needed to lay low for a while. And because of that, my parents lied to my adopted brother and told him I was swept away by the current while trying to save him from drowning. "For the past ten years, I've been living a life of luxury overseas under a fake identity. Meanwhile, my idiot brother has been brainwashed by our parents under the guise of 'atonement'. Every year, he hands over hundreds of thousands of dollars as penance." The poster even attaches a photo. In it is a handwritten "atonement list", with one entry standing out in particular. "Limited-edition Patek Philippe watch, platinum, diamond-set version." Every drop of blood in my body turns to ice. There's a coffee stain in the bottom-right corner of the paper in that photo. It's identical to the one on the list Mom and Dad just handed me.

As the iron gates of the mental institute swing open, my wife, Serena Seacrest, walks in with her childhood sweetheart, Adrian Cross, beside her. She looks at me with utter disgust. I am strapped tightly to the bed, unable to move. She sneers, "Damian, you've been subjected to electroshock treatments for an entire month. Is your mania any better? You pushed Adrian down the stairs and nearly broke his leg, so I sent you here to teach you how to be a normal person." Serena tosses a worn-out pink comfort bunny onto the floor and speaks as though she is granting me a favor. "Get down on your knees and apologize to Adrian. If you do, I'll be kind enough to let you see Lila next month." I stare blankly at the dusty bunny, but I am unable to make a sound. Serena frowns and curses, "What a complete nutjob." Then, she turns around and closes the door. What she doesn't know is that a month ago, on the day she forcibly dragged me onto the mental institute's transport van, our daughter, Delilah Vale, ran after me and was run over by a truck at an intersection, her body mangled beyond recognition. Delilah is dead now, and she will never hold her bunny again. And everything between Serena and me had ended that same night.

I've had a terrible memory since I was a child. I can never seem to remember anything. But my older brother, Fred Zimmer, is the pride of the family. He gets excellent grades and is handsome, too. Mom always says, "Don't feel pressured. We love you both the same." Dad often comforts me, too. "Josh, forgetting things means you won't have a lot of worries. All I want is for you to be happy." I've always believed them without question. After I graduate, I secretly take my birth certificate and apply for public housing to help ease the financial strain at home. After entering my information, the clerk frowns and looks up at me. "Kid, something's not right with these records." I freeze. "What's wrong?" "According to the records, Fred Zimmer is the only child officially registered to these parents." In that instant, I feel my whole body go numb. "That can't be right. Could the system have made a mistake?" The clerk checks again for a long time before finally looking at me helplessly. "Your parents are registered as someone else here." I don't know how I make it out of the building. I can't believe I've spent more than 20 years as their son, only to find out that they've never officially recognized me as one. I don't want this family anymore.

A week before we're supposed to register our marriage, my fiancee, Celine Payton, asks me to book eight train tickets to the beach. She says it's our last trip before we get married, and everyone close to us is going. I spend three days scrambling for tickets and finally manage to get eight seats together. After I pay, a group poll pops up in a chat called "No Henry Sharp Travel Group." The question is simple. "Should Henry come with us?" Seven votes are against it while one person abstains. Not a single vote is in my favor. The voters include Celine, my older sister, Celine's childhood best friend, and my younger cousin, whom I had practically raised. I ask Celine if she's the one who abstained. She rubs her temples. "Yes. I didn't vote against you, and that's already me looking out for you. "Everyone's worried you'll try to control everything and complain about this or that. No one will have any fun. Just give me some space before we get married, okay?" I ask, "Then why do you still have me book eight tickets?" Her answer comes naturally. "You're good at getting tickets. The eighth seat gives us extra room for luggage. I'll send you the money later." My older sister, Joanne Sharp, tries to reason with me. "We're about to be family. Don't let a few tickets ruin your marriage." I look down at the eight seats sitting side by side. So I spend three days scrambling for tickets, not because I'm going with them. I'm only helping everyone else book a trip that doesn't include me. The app reminds me that I have ten minutes left to cancel the tickets. But by then, I don't care whether I can get a refund. What matters is the woman I'm about to marry. Even when everyone else turns against me, she can't bring herself to cast a single vote in my favor.

A week before my wedding, my family decided to play a little guessing game. Everyone described the happiest thing that had happened to them, and then we took turns reading the answers aloud and guessing what it was. My parents' eyes were already glistening with tears as they said, "We've waited so many years for this. It's finally happening." My younger brother, Chad Baird, practically bounced out of his chair. "I get to be the best man!" My childhood friend, Davian Robbins, flushed slightly before saying, "A dream come true. I'm grateful to everyone." Hearing all of them speak, my chest tightened with emotion. For the first time, I thought maybe they really did care about me. I could not hold it in anymore, so I blurted out, "You're all talking about my wedding to Avery, right?" The entire table went silent. A moment later, Chad let out a snort. "Evan, don't flatter yourself. We're talking about Avery and Davian's wedding next week." Avery Bruce barely reacted. "Davian's grandmother has always dreamed of seeing him get married, so we decided to let him have the wedding first." Then she looked at me as if it were the most reasonable thing in the world. "We all grew up together. You wouldn't want Old Mrs. Robbins to be disappointed, would you?" Meanwhile, my parents looked at Davian with so much warmth that anyone watching would have thought he was their own son. None of them noticed my eyes beginning to redden. Of course, I should have expected this. Whenever someone had to give way, it was always me. I had already given Davian my parents' love and attention, and now I was expected to give him my wedding as well. I thought, 'Fine, if that's what they want, he can have it all. I don't want any of it anymore.'

The day my entire family attended my girlfriend's wedding to my stepbrother, I laid in the bathtub and contemplated ending my life there and then. Just as the cold blade touched my wrist, my phone suddenly began ringing nonstop. It was a scheduled call my late mother had left for me. "Happy birthday, Casper!" After a moment of silence, I climbed out of the bathtub, got dressed, and secretly left the country. In the five years I was gone, I changed my name and phone number to cut off all ties with my home country. Everyone thought I was dead. They believed I had died on the day my girlfriend married my stepbrother. For five whole years, fresh red roses had been laid at my grave every single day. Five years later, I returned home to visit my mother's grave. At the floral boutique outside the cemetery, I happened to run into my ex-girlfriend, who had come to buy red roses. After a moment of shock and awkwardness, we finally greeted each other. "It's been a long time." I smiled at her politely. She stared at me without looking away. The red roses in her hand pricked her fingers until they bled. Just as we were about to part, she suddenly asked, "Why didn't you come looking for me in the past five years?" I smiled but didn't answer. After all, we weren't a couple anymore. She had married my father's illegitimate son, and I had a three-year-old child of my own. There was no going back.

Ten years ago, a wildfire along Interstate 5 just outside Portland, Oregon, rewrote everyone's fate. In that disaster, my parents died in the flames after risking their lives to pull young Claire Hart from the back seat of a trapped car. After that, Claire's parents, James and Victoria Hart, took me in when I had no one, raised me, and covered every dollar of my tuition and living costs. Everyone assumed that Claire's life and mine were already bound together, that we would go to college together, grow up side by side, get engaged, and eventually marry. Then, late one night after graduation, I came across a Reddit post written by Claire ten years in the future. One line cut straight through me: "If I could choose my life all over again, the first thing I'd give up would be the person my parents forced on me." She said my existence was a constant reminder that she had gotten two people killed, and a constant reminder that she would spend her whole life paying off a debt. Later, she fell in love with Logan, my best friend. At our engagement party, she controlled the financial guarantee for my grandmother's surgery and threatened to withdraw it unless I ended the engagement. I took off the ring and begged her not to take away the money keeping my grandmother alive, but she turned away and cut every tie between us. My grandmother's heart condition needed long-term treatment and the bills were enormous. I had never imagined that ten years from now I would sink that low, or that the two of us would come to hate each other. I reopened the Leiden University acceptance letter I had set aside for so long. A full scholarship. An engineering program that suited me perfectly. The funding was enough for my grandmother and me to leave the country and start over. This time, I would not hold myself hostage in the name of gratitude or keep living as the burden she was desperate to escape. Some bonds are debts from the moment they are formed. Leaving was the only way to set us free