Cerita Pendek & Novel Male POV Familial Bond

While we're shopping for college supplies, my younger brother, Reuben Whitaker, picks up a limited-edition gaming bedding set and grins at Mom. She doesn't even glance at the price before putting it in the cart. When it's my turn, I barely pick up a charcoal-gray bedding set when my older sister, Cheryl Whitaker, frowns. "Garrett, why do you always choose such gloomy colors? You need to be more upbeat like Reuben," she scolds. My childhood friend, Phoebe Thorpe, smiles as well. "No one at the dorm knows you anyway, so buying something new will be a waste," she says. Reuben glances at the sheets in my hands and quietly suggests, "Garrett, why don't you use my old set? You never cared about things like that anyway." Mom immediately nods in agreement. "Garrett, you don't need new sheets. Besides, putting two sons through college isn't easy." My grip slowly tightens around the set. I remember Reuben's old bedding. The corners are covered in pills, and the fabric is stained with soda he spills during his late-night gaming sessions. It has always been this way. I get the designer sneakers he no longer wants, the backpacks he's grown tired of, and the bedroom he doesn't like. If I don't complain or fight him for anything, my turn will eventually come. At least that's what I think. But even after 18 years, their only response is, "You never cared about things like that anyway." At the register, I watch Mom pay for Reuben's things one by one before casually tossing my charcoal-gray sheets back onto the shelf. It's then that my lips curl into a smile. As it turns out, no one has ever bothered to remember what I like. I pick up the charcoal-gray sheets again. This time, I won't put them back.

After completing my system mission, I give up the massive reward and choose to stay in this world because I have a happy, loving family. My sister, Naomi Sullivan, is a world-renowned genius scientist, and every one of her discoveries bears my name. My mother, Gloria Lynch, heads a financial empire that controls the global economy, and she transfers every share she owns into my name. And my father, Arnold Sullivan, is an action star. He's a legendary screen icon, but he retires to watch me grow up. I'm the golden child everyone envies until Daniel Sullivan, their biological son, shows up at our door. Overnight, their love for me vanishes, and I become the outsider who stole the rightful heir's place in the family. Daniel stages a fall down the stairs, and Dad breaks my ribs to make me pay. I take a single bite of Daniel's leftover cake because I'm starving, but Mom locks me in the basement with an attack dog for three days. Then, she has a gold cake made just to cheer him up. All it takes is one offhand complaint that his chest feels tight, and Naomi removes my heart to give it to him, replacing it with an artificial one. "It's just a heart. You're strong enough to handle it. Daniel needs it more than you do." Naomi stands nearby with a tablet in hand, coldly logging the results. "Don't worry. Artificial heart technology is already well established. The survival rate is excellent in theory. You won't die." After my soul leaves my body, I watch Daniel casually toss my heart into the trash. Then, the long-silent system finally awakens. "Clifford, would you like to take back everything you bestowed upon them in exchange for a chance to be revived? This includes your mother's fortune, your father's extraordinary physical gifts, and your sister's incredible mind."

On the day of my daughter Eleanor Baldwin's second birthday party, my entire family stood nervously by the banquet hall entrance. They were not there to greet guests, but rather to keep me from showing up and causing a scene. Mom's face was written all over with anxiety. "Lucas wouldn't actually crash the party, would he?" Dad's brow stayed tightly furrowed. "Who knows? That disgrace of a son is capable of anything." My younger brother, Cody Baldwin, had his arm wrapped gently around my wife, Kendra Clarkson, trying to reassure her. "Don't worry. If Lucas dares to show up, I'll keep you and Ellie safe." Kendra nodded slowly. "If it really comes to that... maybe we should just let Ellie be his goddaughter. At least then, we're still family..." However, the party came and went, and I never appeared. I had already made up my mind to join a classified national defense research program. Only this time, it was for good.

After hitting the five-million-dollar jackpot, I plan to leave every cent to my son, Caleb Dawson. But sitting inside the notary office, I suddenly hesitate. My wife, Zoey Watts, looks at me in utter confusion. "Caleb passed the test, so why are you hesitating?" A few days ago, I found a lottery ticket on the street that turned out to be worth five million dollars. Zoey was ecstatic. She immediately wanted to call our son and daughter, but I stopped her. "We can't just hand over five million dollars. Tell them I'm terminally ill. Whoever steps up to pay for my treatment gets the money." Our kids have always been good to us, so Zoey accused me of overthinking things. But our daughter, Jayda Dawson's, reaction completely blindsided us. She lives in a mansion and drives a luxury car. Yet, she only handed me 200 bucks, told me not to bother her, and ordered me to get out. Meanwhile, Caleb has just graduated and doesn't even have a job yet. Still, he gave me all 3,000 dollars he saved up over the years. Without any hesitation, Zoey and I decide to leave the entire five million dollars to Caleb. But now, I have changed my mind. "Sir, I want to leave everything to my daughter!" Zoey snaps. "Henry Dawson! Have you lost your mind?" I shake my head. "My mind is perfectly clear. Mom came to me in a dream last night."

As the son of Harbor City's casino magnate, I willingly handed control of the World Cup book to my stepsister, Sophie Bell. It was only because, in my last life, Sophie, who had never watched soccer seriously, suddenly turned into the family's lucky charm and called sixteen World Cup matches in a row. Every single night I stayed up breaking down each team's tactics and studying the players' habits and tricks. Yet Sophie could always predict the exact score, a step ahead, saying out loud the very answer in my mind. "Admit it, Adrian. I'm just stronger than you! Everyone, listen to me and go all in!" After that, the whole internet worshiped her as a goddess and praised her as a natural-born betting queen. Everyone mocked me as nothing but a fraud who'd never deserved his name. I was driven out of the family, and in a daze, someone shoved me off a high-rise. Only in that moment did I finally learn the truth: my stepsister could eavesdrop on my thoughts in real time. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the night the World Cup began. This time, I didn't watch the matches. Instead, I looped through my head: "Darling, hold my hands. Nothing beats a jet 2 holiday, right now you can..."

Although I've bought my mom the golden bracelet that she's always wanted, she still looks glum. "Honestly speaking, you really know how to take advantage of others. Previously, Henry treated us to some pancakes, but you still haven't wired him your share of the money." While I have yet to register the meaning of Mom's words, my cheeks have already flared brightly out of embarrassment. Mom continues, "Even though you've taken good care of our family, you're not as caring as Henry at all. In fact, you're no different than that of a caretaker." I feel as though someone has dumped a bucket of ice-cold water on me. My mind keeps buzzing loudly the whole time. Mom just rolls her eyes at me before picking out a gold necklace so that she can put it on Henry's neck. "Give this necklace to Henry. Think of it as your way of making it up to him." At that moment, my love for my mother finally dissipates. Hence, I give the gold bracelet to my wife, Evelyn Gilbert. Then, I call the movers to move the new furniture into my home before having my mother's targeted medication discontinued.

My older sister, Noelle Brown, has an unhealthy obsession with me. When I was ten years old, Noelle almost got kidnapped by the kidnappers. I got into the kidnappers' van in her stead. Later on, I was returned to my family after they paid a ransom. But my face had already been slashed by the kidnappers, and my legs had been broken by them, too. Since then, Noelle has worked extremely hard to improve herself. That's how she successfully brings the company Dad has left behind to a new level of success. I become Noelle's most cherished person as well as the vulnerable spot that no one else is allowed to touch. Someone made fun of my ugly looks in the past. Noelle had stuffed his head into a sack filled with rats, where he literally got his face chewed off him alive. There was also someone who ran his mouth about me being a cripple behind my back. Noelle responded by crushing his legs with a road roller, resulting in his legs being reduced to paste. Noelle is the demoness who's feared by the entire city. But to think that such a fearsome woman dotes on me endlessly. She even dumps a huge amount of money into sending me overseas, where I undergo numerous plastic and orthopedic surgeries while finishing my college studies. Before returning to the country, I receive an engagement invitation from Noelle. She tells me that soon, I'll have a brother-in-law who will spoil me like she does. She even sends me a photo of her fiance, Faris Smith. But as soon as I arrive at the villa, Faris barges in with a group of brutes. He's mistaken me for Noelle's side piece, whom she keeps in another country, so he begins torturing me endlessly. By the time Noelle reaches the scene, Faris points at me while shouting at her. "Don't tell me I can't even compare to that pretty boy!" Noelle's eyes go bloodshot at the sight. "What makes you think you're even worthy of being compared to him?"

I had everything planned a month in advance for our holiday. I was going to take my wife and daughter on a trip to see the country's beautiful landscapes, but just before we were supposed to leave, they both disappeared. I ended up standing alone in the pouring rain, trying to call them. My daughter's voice came through over the phone—it was cold and impatient. "Mommy's having dinner with Uncle Skyler. We don't want to go anymore." Right after that, the call was cut off. I had been blocked. They locked me out of the house on purpose and left me to freeze out there all night. The rain had already drenched me, and I was running a high fever that turned into pneumonia. Meanwhile, the two of them were off enjoying a vacation with Skyler Shire. That was the moment I knew—this marriage was well and truly over.

Three days after the SAT scores were released, I came across a post asking for advice. [Both my older and younger sons are going to Northbridge for college. How should I split their living expenses so it's fair?] The comments were almost unanimous. [Why is this even a question? They're both your kids. Give them the same amount. That's the fairest way to do things.] I was about to scroll past when the newest top comment caught my eye. The profile picture belonged to my sister. [Don't judge when you don't know the whole story.] [I'm their older sister, so let me be honest. You can't raise two boys the same way.] [The older one is pretty average-looking, and he's awkward and quiet. Even if you gave him money, he wouldn't know what to spend it on. Meanwhile, the younger one is outgoing and handsome, with great style. One pair of his limited-edition shoes costs over $2,000.] [If you ask me, the older one should get $800, and the younger one should get $8,000. Each child should get the amount they need.] Beneath her comment was a reply from my childhood best friend, Whitney Jones. [Couldn't have said it better myself!] [Besides, we'll all be in Northbridge anyway. We can keep your younger brother company, so your mom won't have to worry about him back home.] Staring at the screen, I suddenly laughed until tears blurred my vision. When we were kids, we would play hide-and-seek. All of them would sneak off together, hand in hand, leaving me alone in the dark attic, covering my eyes and counting. Back then, I honestly believed that if I searched hard enough, I would eventually find them and become part of their little world. However, every time I opened my eyes, they had already slipped away with my younger brother, leaving to buy ice cream without me. It turned out nothing had changed since then. They were still walking side by side toward the bright lights of Northbridge, while I remained nothing more than an afterthought, someone brought along just for the sake of the picture. I deleted every university in Northbridge from my list and replaced them with schools in the far south, more than a thousand miles from home. I was done playing the loyal supporting character in someone else's fairy tale. Their game could go on without me.

On the day my grandfather died, my wife Tamara Kelton broke my right index finger with her own hands. She grabbed my hand, forced a pen into my grip, and pressed it down onto the inheritance waiver. Blood smeared across the paper where my signature landed. "If you'd just agreed to sign, you wouldn't have had to go through all this." She dropped my hand, her tone flat. The bodyguards kept me on my knees in the mud. A few steps away, my young brother, Wyatt Ashcroft, stood with Tamara's oversized coat draped over his shoulders, our parents shielding him between them. Not a single drop of rain had touched him. With reddened eyes, he walked over and reached out to help me up.

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 leaving Serena Hart, I married the daughter of a billionaire. Just now, my wife told me she wanted to transfer every asset in her name to me. I tried to refuse, but she meant it too sincerely for me to keep refusing. She said that without me, she never could have held such a vast family empire together. She wanted me to be able to hold my head up, so she even arranged for the asset transfer to be handled in Ashford, the city where I was born. With no other choice, I walked into the largest law firm in Ashford. I had just started to give the name on my appointment when a familiar mocking voice sounded behind me. "Well, if it isn't Adrian Cole, the guy who used to chase our campus queen Serena Hart around like his life depended on it."

I was born with an intellectual disability and congenital analgesia, the inability to feel pain. Since I was a child, I had been the human punching bag who took beatings meant for my younger sister. Whenever my sister was caught sneaking snacks, Mom would grab me by the hair and slam my head against the wall. Blood would run down my face from my head, yet I never made a sound. When my sister was caught cheating in an exam, Mom whipped me with a belt the entire afternoon. My skin split and my flesh torn, yet I could still manage a smile. Every time she saw me covered in injuries, my sister would throw her arms around me tightly and cry her eyes out. She would say she was wrong and promise never to misbehave again. Mom would be pleased at that, convinced she had disciplined us well. And so, for sixteen years, I had endured every punishment meant for my sister. Until the latest monthly exam, when my sister dropped a place in the rankings. Mom called her over as usual and, out of habit, she raised her hand toward me. The slap sent the back of my head crashing into the corner of a cabinet, and blood spilled across the floor. Through my fading consciousness, I saw Mom nodding in satisfaction and pulling my sister, who was wailing her heart out, to her feet. “There, there. Stop crying. You’ve had your punishment. Let’s go eat something nice and calm yourself.” Watching their retreating figures, my eyelids grew heavier by the second. It seemed to hurt a little this time. I’d better get well soon… After all, they’d need me again the next time my sister made another mistake.

As Dad lies on his death bed, he rasps to me that his only wish is to watch me get married. I keep crying to the point that my sobs come out silent. My entire family turns to look at Whitney Pearson, who stands behind me. She lets out a small sigh before wiping my tears away for me gently. Then, she leads me out of the ward. But as soon as the door is closed behind us, Whitney's expression turns icy. "Joseph, we've been dating for seven years. You of all people should know very well that I hate getting coerced into doing something the most. "Love is all about going with the flow. We shouldn't let others determine how our relationship should progress." Then, she caresses my cheek reassuringly. "Let's not rush our marriage. We'll talk more about this once things settle down after my company goes public. What do you think? "Anyway, I still have a meeting to get to tonight. You should deal with your family as you see fit. I'll bring a gift for you when I come home later." Before I can say anything, Whitney spins on her heel and leaves with her secretary, Kaiden Xavier. The moment both of them disappear into the elevator, I witness Kaiden bending over slightly to brush Whitney's hair from her face for her. She makes no move to stop him at all. After drying my tears, I return to the ward and take Dad's hand with a smile. "Don't worry, Dad. I'll get married in three days. In fact, I'm still waiting for you to do my tie for me before the start of the ceremony."

I was the most famous lawyer in the city, with a constant stream of clients. However, my career took a hit after I adopted my daughter — all because of her toxic, rebellious nature. When I took a child abuse case, she told the victim’s family, “My father loves taking cases with little girls, because he loves little girls.” When I hosted a seminar online, she barged into the camera and said, “Don’t believe my father! He uses his work to harass victims.” Today, I joined a speech competition on behalf of my law firm. The audience was filled with VIPs. I told her again and again not to act up. She promised, then turned to wail at the national panel of judges. “My father said he’ll send me back to the orphanage because I won’t let him molest me. Are you sure you want him to represent you?” I looked up at her triumphant, vicious gaze and stayed silent. This time, however, she would soon regret it.

My wife made me get a vasectomy. Not once, but ninety-nine times. Right before the hundredth operation, the doctor looked at me with pity in his eyes as the anesthesia failed to fully kick in. "Ms. Gibson really knows how to destroy a man," he murmured. "She's put him through ninety-nine vasectomies, then had them reversed—again and again. However, his body's long since broken. There's no chance of children now." "It's probably for her ex. Word is, it's his own brother. The scandals in these wealthy families—unbelievable." Because of a hospital mix-up at birth, my and Jeff Cunningham's fates were exchanged. He grew up with the Cunningham family, while I lived a poor life. Years later, my parents found the truth, taking me in and sending Jeff away. To make things worse, I became Wynnie Gibson's new fiancé. I once asked her, barely able to speak through the pain, why she would marry someone she did not love. She looked at me calmly. "To get revenge," she said. "You came home and stole Jeff's place. He was the one I love. He drank himself to death after you returned." Even my biological parents knew she was poisoning me. However, they turned a blind eye. They did nothing to stop her. They knew Wynnie had got pregnant with Jeff's child through IVF—planning to raise the child and let him inherit the family fortune. I coughed up blood and threw myself into the sea. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day I was first reunited with them. This time, when I saw the sorrow in their eyes—sorrow not for me, but for the son they lost— I chose to let them go.

In our house, owning a single unnecessary item is considered shameful. My room is bare, like a model home. It doesn't even have an extra chair. There are always only three sets of clothes in my closet. If I want a new pair of pants, I have to cut up the old pair myself before I can keep the new one. Every time I bring something new home, I have to get rid of something old. That includes my favorite pair of shorts with the little robot prints. Dad calls this "decluttering". He says it prevents the soul from becoming weighed down by objects, keeping it pure and light. Every time I grow a little taller, Mom's frown gets a little deeper. "Eddie, you're taking up too much space," she says. "The house feels crowded because of you." From then on, I do everything I can to make myself smaller. Even when I sleep, I curl myself into the tightest ball I can manage. I just want to take up a little less space. Then one day, a truck driver stops in front of me. He smiles and tells me his truck has a huge cargo compartment, big enough to hold all the things nobody wants anymore. I quietly climb inside. "Mom, Dad… I won't take up any space now. You'll finally be happy, won't you?"

My younger brother, Ian Green, was caught for robbery, but my mother forced me to take the blame for him. I refused, so my mother took a knife and attempted suicide. She knew that I was filial and would not want her to suffer any harm, so I gave in. However, my mother had no idea that I also took responsibility for a murder he committed. After I was sentenced to death, she went insane looking for me.

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.

After the morning rush at the supermarket dies down, I tear off a piece of bread to eat. My daughter, who's just getting out of bed at nearly noon, immediately explodes at me. "Dad, can you stop being so greedy? The moment I'm not around, you help yourself to the expensive bread. Honestly, the worst thieves are the ones under your own roof." I try to explain that I've been up since 5:00 am and haven't even had breakfast yet, but she doesn't care. She barks, "Let's get one thing straight. This is my store. I was kind enough to bring you here from the countryside so you could enjoy your retirement. Is this how you repay me?" My son-in-law jumps in unhappily. "If you're hungry, can't you just wait a little longer? There are leftovers from yesterday at home. Couldn't you go back and eat those instead?" His mother steps in with a smile. "Alright, that's enough. I'm sure he isn't the type to take advantage of people. If he ate the bread, he'll pay for it, right? It's five dollars. You can Venmo me." I laugh out of exasperation. This store is opened with my money. Every shelf is stocked with merchandise I carry in myself. I get up before dawn and work until late at night without getting paid a single cent. And now, I need to pay for a piece of bread? If this is how things are going to be, I don't want this kind of daughter anymore. I gather all my savings account books and bank cards, then change the beneficiary's name in my will to my nephew's.