เรื่องสั้นแนว Familial Bond และนิยาย Mistress Family Emotions

Tonight Daddy said he was going out with Auntie Benita, and Mommy didn’t fight him about it. She had a handkerchief balled up in her hand, soaked through with the blood she kept coughing up. I knew Mommy was going to heaven soon. That was how Grandpa told me it would be, back when Grandma coughed up blood like this. Daddy looked at Mommy, narrowed his eyes, and his voice went cold. “Isa needs a whole family. A smart woman learns to look the other way.” Mommy didn’t shield me and argue back the way she used to. She just said, softly, “Fine. I’ll charge by the visit. Every night you spend with her is one million.” Daddy laughed and wired her the money. After that night, Daddy went out a lot, and every time, Mommy reminded him to send the money. Mommy got so thin that her cheeks caved in, but her eyes were still bright. She took me lots of places, introduced me to lots of people, and made me write my own name over and over. She said she was going to leave everything to me. I held her tight. “I don’t want your things, Mommy. I just want you.”

When Bradley Jaeger heard that his mother had suffered a sudden brain hemorrhage and slipped into a coma, his mind went completely blank. Without a second thought, he rushed out of his office. However, Sierra Perkins stopped him with a cool, flat voice. "It's still working hours. Where do you think you're going?" Bradley's eyes reddened as he faced the woman he was about to marry. "My mom is in the hospital, fighting for her life." "Going there won't change anything. You're going to be my husband; you should be setting an example, not ditching work." Sierra remained unmoved, and her delicate features were beautiful but coldly distant. Bradley froze for a moment. "But this is an emergency. I'm only asking to leave ten minutes early..." Sierra's tone grew firmer, and her voice was as cold as frost. "Bradley, go back to your desk. It's rush hour, so you won't be able to get a cab. Just wait for ten minutes, and you can ride over with me." It was indeed rush hour, and rides were hard to come by. Besides, all he had to do was wait ten minutes. In a daze, Bradley turned around and sat back down at his desk. Over and over, he tried to convince himself that Sierra had a point. Yet for some reason, his eyes burned and ached unbearably.

My daughter, Clara Williams, turned seven today. We played a simple game to celebrate. The rule was easy. I would start a sentence, and she would finish it. It was a popular trend designed to see if a child was being criticized. "First sentence," I said, leaning over the table. "Look at the other kids…" I waited, a warm smile on my face. I had never raised my voice at her. I spent years protecting her world, building her confidence brick by brick. I knew she was happy. Her soft voice shattered that illusion instantly. "They are so much better than you," she said, reciting the words by heart. "You aren't even worth a single hair on Lily's head." Lily. She was the daughter of Donald Williams’ ex-girlfriend, Valerie Thompson. My chest tightened. The air left my lungs all at once. It took everything I had to swallow the lump in my throat and move to the second prompt. "What do you have to complain about?" "Lily is younger than you," my daughter cut in, her voice small. "You have to give up everything for her." She looked up at me nervously. Her little hands twisted the hem of her shirt under the table. I squeezed my eyes shut, forcing down the sudden surge of nausea. I took a slow breath and tried sentence three. "You've grown up already…" "Go to parent-teacher conferences by yourself," she answered, looking at the floor. "I have to play family games with Lily." I stopped. I couldn't bring myself to ask another question. The cold truth was sitting right in front of me, but I was still clinging to a tiny shred of hope. "Sweetheart," I whispered. "Who told you those things?" "Daddy did." She caught the change in my tone and panicked. She quickly blew out the birthday candles, trying to lighten the mood. She closed her eyes tightly, making a wish out loud. "I wish I can be a better girl. Then Dad will be happy, and he will treat Mommy better." The last candle flickered and died. Darkness crept over the room. My illusion collapsed right along with it. I thought I was shielding my little girl from the monsters of the world. I never guessed her own father, Donald Williams, was the biggest among the monsters.

After my dad's first love moved into our house and became my tutor, my mom never raised her voice at her again. She just coughed worse and worse, until one day I found the lab report she'd thrown out. Stage IV lung cancer. That afternoon, Dad came home with his arm around her, and walked right into Mom sitting on the couch. There was a flicker of guilt on his face. "Helena, if you've got something to say, just say it. Don't make a scene in front of the kid." Mom was eerily calm. She pointed at the woman and said, "She gets on her knees and apologizes to me three times. And you sign over half the company. Then we're done." Dad thought she'd lost it. But in the end he signed the share transfer. After that, Mom's pills kept multiplying and her appetite kept shrinking. But she hired the best lawyer in town, and over and over she taught me how to manage those shares once I was old enough. Dad never figured out the one thing that mattered. Mom was already on her way out.

I've known all along that my husband, Hector Greene, has been seeing another woman. However, for the past two years, even after going through all of his financial records and looking into all the women he might've come into contact with, I haven't been able to find out who she is. My parents accuse me of being paranoid. My younger brother says I'm not worthy of Hector. Only my older sister, Giselle Lloyd, repeatedly defends me. "Evelina is my sister! I won't let you guys force her to put up with this!" Ever since we were kids, Giselle has been the one who gets everything the family has to give. None of the new outfits, the chance to study abroad, or even the shares Grandpa left behind have ever gone to me. But Giselle would stash some of the candy for me and accompany me when Mom punishes me. Therefore, even though everyone else favors her, I've never truly resented her for it. Then, on Mom's birthday, Hector leaves the table early, saying he has something to deal with. Worried that I might overthink things, Giselle offers to accompany me back to the house. But when we reach the underground parking garage, she tells me she left her phone back at the restaurant and instructs me to wait in the car first. After waiting for quite a long time, I decide to head back to the restaurant as well. Then, in the stairwell, I see Hector gripping Giselle's wrist tightly as he says, "I'm sick and tired of having to sneak around like that, Giselle." Giselle pushes him away, her eyes red. "You can't say anything! No one in the family loves her. I'm the only one she has. If I betray her too, she won't be able to take the blow." As I stare at them through the door, everything finally clicks into place. This whole time, whenever Giselle volunteers to help me track down my cheating husband, she's actually taking the opportunity to cover up their tracks. Having realized this, I lose all interest in finding out when their illicit affair started. I lose all desire to keep this marriage—and this family.

I make my way to the orphanage after receiving my cancer diagnosis, hoping to bid farewell to the orphan, Lillian Lowe, whom I was sponsoring financially. I unexpectedly find my husband, Henry Graham, who is meant to be on a business trip, and my sister, Felicity Sullivan, who is meant to be on a vacation. Their fingers are intertwined, while they use their free hands to playfully pinch Lillian's cheeks. Lillian rushes into their embrace, weeping pitifully. "Can you get rid of that mean lady at home? I just want to go home with Mommy and Daddy." I finally understand, at that moment, that Henry, whom I thought had loved me the most, is having an affair with Felicity. They even have a child together. Mom and Dad urge me to divorce Henry and make way for his new family. Lillian, the girl I once held dearly in my heart, curses me to an early death. Henry, the one who betrayed me, insists on keeping our marriage. It's too late, though. I'm already dying, just as they wished. Lillian, who once cried so much at the orphanage, now lives in a mansion with a father, a mother, and a pair of doting grandparents. Their perfect little life seems like a never-ending fairy tale. It is only when my lifeless body is before them that everyone suddenly loses their minds.

My wife, Lilian Barton, loves me more than life itself. She has spent the past eight years working hard with me just so she can get pregnant with my child. Our son, Wesley Carson, needs immediate medical attention because of an asthma attack. On my way to the hospital, I accidentally crash into the wedding procession of a mafia leader. Wesley, who's barely a month old, is hurled to the ground, causing him to bleed everywhere. But that's when I see Lilian, who has an arm wrapped around the groom in the car. She tells a subordinate, "What bad luck! Not only is my wedding being interrupted, but there's also blood being spilled on my wedding day! Just kill that little bastard already!" Lilian outright ignores Wesley's cries of pain. Before she leaves, I hear her murmur, "Cover his mouth. That baby's cries are so annoying."

This marks the third year since Alan Cohen and I became mates, and today's finally the day of the Luna ceremony. As the ceremony begins, Alan takes my hand. But then he hesitates, refusing to move forward. I'm still trying to make sense of it when my adoptive sister, Eden Parker, suddenly breaks into the mind-link. She says she's just ended a failed mate bond with another Alpha and will be back within the hour. That's when I see a flicker of a smile on Alan's face. Then, without a second glance, he lets go of my hand and walks away. I turn to my adoptive brother, Dexter Parker, and my adoptive father, Hank Parker, hoping for some kind of comfort, only to realize they've already left the ceremony with Alan. And just like that, I became the joke of the entire pack. Eden sends me a photo. She's glowing beside Alan, her arm looped through Dexter's, with Hank beaming next to them. That's when I give up. I reach out through the mind-link to my birth father. "Dad, I'm ready to return to the Bloodmoon Pack."

While shopping at the supermarket, my daughter, Rebecca Westcott, stared longingly at the frozen fruit bars in the display case. I checked my bank balance, then reached for one. The steep price made me freeze. The sales clerk cheerfully explained, "You get what you pay for. This is the flavor kids love most." Seeing how awkward I was, Rebecca quickly spoke up. "Daddy, I don't want one. I was just looking. One of my classmates had one before. It wasn't anything special." My chest tightened with bitterness as I reluctantly started to put it back. Then a cool, unfamiliar voice spoke behind me. "It's the holidays. Let the kid have something that makes her happy." I turned in shock. A young man dressed head to toe in designer clothes dropped the frozen fruit bar into my cart. I immediately tried to refuse, but he ignored me and started filling my cart with all kinds of snacks. "You've got to be a little more generous as a dad. You can't be the kind of parent who ruins the fun. Relax, man. I've got it. I'll pay for everything." At the checkout, the man pulled out a black card and reassured me, "Don't feel pressured. It's a family card. This amount is nothing to my wife." I froze. A week earlier, I had seen an identical card in the pocket of my wife, Madeline Westcott.

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.

For his preschool career assignment, my four-year-old son, Joey Parker, writes that he wants to be a homewrecker. When I stare at him in disbelief, he defends his choice with complete confidence. "Mommy's secretary, Mr. Sebastian Hayes, is a homewrecker, and he's living a pretty great life. "Mommy buys him fancy suits that you don't have, and she always drives him to and from work without fail." Joey tilts his head and looks at me curiously. "I hear the grown-ups calling him a homewrecker all the time. So why don't you become one, too? "Besides, they say male homewreckers are super rare. And you're so amazing, Daddy! I bet you'd be the best one ever!" My face drains of color. I stand frozen, unable to utter a single word. Years ago, one comment from my wife, Amelia Brooks, about needing someone to take care of the family for me was enough to make me quit my job and become a stay-at-home dad. For years, I've swallowed my hurt and endured one humiliation after another, all because I want our son to grow up in a complete family. I've never imagined that my patience would teach him to mistake being the other man for being loved. I'm about to respond when Joey interrupts me. "Daddy, I know you and Mommy fought today because she's going out to dinner with Mr. Hayes instead of celebrating your birthday with you. "I don't like it when you and Mommy fight. So when I grow up, I'll be a homewrecker, too. Then you won't have to fight anymore." It feels as though an invisible fist closes around my heart. Rage surges through me, making the veins in my forehead throb. But the moment I meet my son's innocent gaze, the question that has tormented me for years suddenly has an answer. "Joey, being a homewrecker is wrong. If you don't like living this way, then I'll take you somewhere new. We'll find a home of our own, one without your mommy."

Every time Millie Johnson, my daughter, returns home from playing with my best friend's dog at his place during summer break, she brings home an expensive doll. I have no choice but to pinch pennies and save up for a gift for my best friend after seeing how much Millie loves the dolls. I return home earlier than usual one day and overhear Millie talking excitedly into her smartwatch from her hiding spot in her room. "Mission accomplished, Mommy! Daddy didn't suspect a thing!" I am momentarily stunned. I am convinced that I have misheard, but then I hear Millie ask for a reward. "You're taking your wedding anniversary photos with Papa today, right? Can I come along, too? I'm so sick of eating plain pasta with Daddy every day, Mommy!" I freeze, my breath catching as I snatch the smartwatch from her. I happen to see the photo that has just been sent over. Sophie Johnson, my wife—who is supposed to be on her janitorial duty this morning—is actually wearing a pure white wedding dress. I stare at the screen, my hands trembling uncontrollably as my heart skips a beat. Millie tosses her doll aside and hurriedly tells me off, "You can't just snoop on me, Daddy! I'll be heading out to play with the doggy later, so don't bother us!" She excitedly peers out the window and waits for her ride after saying that. I stand frozen in place, staring at the apology message Sophie sent just a minute earlier. "I'm so sorry, Steven. It's all my fault for blowing the business and making you and Millie suffer so much all these years. I swear I'll make it up to you, Steven." I feel a sharp pang in my chest, leaving me barely able to breathe. I don't want to confront Sophie yet, so I simply trail the car that has come to pick Millie up instead.

After my wife, Shannon Stewart, suggests that we each support our own parents, I set up a million-dollar retirement fund for my dad. However, when I review this month's household expenses, I notice that every single payment is made for the father of Sean Gardner, her childhood friend. "Sean's family is struggling. Why wouldn't I help them out? It's not like it's a lot of money." Shannon brushes it off. There are 13 separate expenses of around 100 dollars each in a single month. Yet when my dad needs 300 for medical bills, she prints out the receipt and tells me to reimburse the household account. Tired of arguing, I toss the statement aside and head inside. Then my dad's condition suddenly worsens, and he's hospitalized again. I rush to the bank to withdraw money from the retirement fund. "Your father isn't the beneficiary of this fund," the bank employee states coldly. "Are you sure you have the right account?" My mind goes blank. How is that possible? Every cent in that account is my hard-earned cash. The employee impatiently turns the computer monitor toward me. The account name on the screen clearly reads, "James Gardner's Retirement Fund." James is Sean's dad.

After his twin brother dies, my husband, Cassian Howell, starts supporting two households, splitting our family's money equally between them. Half goes to our daughter and me, and the other half goes to his late brother's widow, Esther Heaton, and her son, Noah Howell. He says he can't let his nephew grow up without a father figure. When our daughter, Anne Howell, graduates from elementary school, her teacher asks each student to contribute 50 dollars toward graduation photos. Cassian refuses at once, calling it an unnecessary expense. It's the same excuse he used the week before when I asked him for new undergarments. I call him. "I'll go without if I have to, but everyone in her class is getting graduation photos. Anne is the only one who hasn't paid." He sounds annoyed. "Faye, you know I have two households to support. We have to cut costs wherever we can." Before I can answer, he hangs up on me. Moments later, Esther posts a photo in our family group chat: a limited-edition children's camera and a brand-new designer bag. Her caption reads, "Thank you for the gifts, Cassian! I'm so grateful Noah has a father figure in his life, all thanks to you." I stare at the words "father figure" for a long moment before I finally understand. In Cassian's heart, Esther and her son are his real family. Anne and I are just outsiders he can afford to neglect.

My husband had a bizarre obsession with role-playing. In every scenario he invented, I was always the devoted wife he eventually cast aside. One day, he became the ruthless CEO who fell for the nanny; the next, he turned into a respected professor who could not resist his students. Each time he handed me a divorce agreement, watched me sign it through tears, and then tore the papers to shreds the following morning with a satisfied grin. "It's just a game, babe." That changed when my mom was in a catastrophic car accident and needed 200,000 dollars for emergency surgery. Deep in character as a penniless failure, he said, "I'm flat broke. Where am I supposed to get that kind of money for your mom?" I watched my mother take her last breath because we couldn't pay the bill. On the day of her funeral, he arrived with a pretty college student on his arm. "I've fallen in love with one of my students. It's time we get divorced." He pulled a folder from his briefcase and handed me the agreement. This time, I didn't wait for him to rip it up.

On my way home from picking wild berries in the woods, I see my mate, Ethan Volkov, feeding our pups roast chicken. His childhood sweetheart, Zoe Hathaway, is snuggling next to them. While chatting with Ethan about her experiences studying on the northern grasslands, she entertains the children. My five-year-old daughter is happily swinging her legs as she holds out a piece of roast chicken to Zoe, while My son carefully wipes the grease off Zoe's hands. Ethan never once looks away from Zoe. It is as if he only has eyes for her. Seeing my beloved mate and the pups I've tirelessly raised so attached to another she-wolf leaves me devastated. I draft a Bond Breaking Agreement, give up custody of the children, and leave. Pursue the herbal research career that I gave up for my family Yet later, the always calm and composed Ethan loses his composure. My daughter Katrina and my son James search everywhere for me, openly expressing their love and begging me to come home.

Drugs disappeared during one of our family’s deals—and everyone knew it was my stepsister, Emily’s fault. Now, our rivals demanded someone be sent to them, held captive until the debt was repaid. My fiancé, my family—they all agreed it should be me. “Emily already got hurt in the mission. You are stronger. You can handle it while we figure things out.” I knew this moment was coming. And so I signed my name. In five days, I’d be sent away. And I have decided that no matter what happened—whether I lived or died—I was done with my family and my fiancé. In those last days, I gave everything I owned away. The casino? To my stepsister, who had always eyed it with envy. My checking account? To my father, who never missed a chance to remind me how useless I was. The engagement ring? Back to the man who’d been fake as hell. They didn’t notice anything off. They just smiled, pleased with how thoughtful I’d suddenly become. When they realized I was gone for good—and that their fragile Emily was their undoing—would they still smile like that? Would they still look so content?

My mate, David Hayes, who is the Alpha, has been cold to me ever since he claimed me as Luna of the pack. He assumes that I gave him a dose of pheromones under the full moon. That was why I got the chance to mate with him and ended up being pregnant so quickly. So, as an Alpha, and for the sake of his reputation, he decides to mark me. That is how I became his "mystery Luna". The pack only knows that he has a Luna, but no one knows it's me. When I gave birth to our pup the next year, he showed no interest in the slightest. When a lupine maid brings the newborn to him, he glances at the pup with disgust and turns away. "Let's hope he's nothing like his mother—scheming, manipulative, and a disgrace to the pack!" I lie in bed, weak and exhausted, but the tears won't stop. … Today, David's childhood friend, Sophia Sinclair, returned to the pack. The moment he heard the news, he lit up with excitement. That night, after coming back from Sophia's place, drunk out of his mind, he pulled our pup into his arms. My son, Joseph Hayes, was over the moon. He snuggled closer to him and whispered to me, "Mom, he hugged me on his own… Does that mean he accepts me now?" I held him tight, tears stinging my eyes. "His mate has come back. We're leaving the pack." What he didn't know was that the healer had already told me I have Wolf Spirit Degeneration, which leaves me only three days to live. Before I die, I'll take Joseph to my parents, where he'll be loved and cared for, and not hated and abandoned by his own father. In three days, David will never see me or our pup again—and for the rest of his life.

To repay my parents for raising me for 20 years, I donate one of my kidneys to Samuel Caldwell, their biological son, curing him of his uremia. After Samuel recovers, he returns to the stage, dazzling audiences with his piano performances. Meanwhile, I survive on hormone treatments. My body is swollen beyond recognition, and I look utterly disgusting. I lock myself up in the house, staring blankly out the window day after day. Through it all, my fiancee, Shelby Holloway, never leaves my side. She comes up with new low-calorie meals every day and patiently helps me rebuild my strength. "Nick, make sure you get plenty of rest and don't overexert yourself, okay? I have a meeting to attend, so wait for me at home." Before she leaves, she gently straightens my collar. I truly believe life is slowly getting better. Then, in the backstage area of a theater, I catch Samuel holding Shelby tightly in his arms. "Shelby, Nick's in such poor health. I shouldn't be taking you away from him." Shelby buries herself against his chest, her voice full of pain. "What are you talking about? If it weren't for saving you, I never would have married that impostor. Every time I look at him, I feel sick. He looks like a pig! He'd have done everyone a great favor if he'd died on the operating table that day!" Shelby casts aside the bond we've shared since childhood and even wishes for my death, all for Samuel's sake. Just as well, I have no desire to continue living anymore either.

On my wedding day, the wedding convoy was almost here, but my younger sister—my bridesmaid—was still refusing to get out of bed. The moment my fiancé, Graham Hollis, found out, he called me. "Mara, don't wake Lila. I'll have the drivers loop around Harbor City one more time. Let her sleep a little longer. "We've got a long day ahead of us. I'm worried she won't be able to handle it." He hung up before I could say anything. Mom saw my eyes tearing up and hurried over. "Mara, don't cry on your wedding day." Then she sighed. "And don't blame Graham. I'm the one who told Lila she could sleep until six. Work has been exhausting for her. She finally got time off. What's wrong with letting her rest a little longer?" My chest tightened until I could barely breathe. Lila had always slept too much. Doctors said she had a weak constitution. When we were teenagers and she couldn't get up for early classes, Mom made me wait for her even if it meant I was punished for being late. On my birthday, Graham and Lila once promised to go to an air show with me. When Lila wouldn't wake up, Graham canceled the tickets. And now even my wedding had to wait until she'd slept enough. An hour later, the wedding cars pulled up outside in complete silence. The twelve celebratory honks we'd planned were canceled. Even the noisemakers set out for the send-off had been cleared away. Graham walked up to me and lowered his voice. "We didn't want to wake Lila, so your mom and I decided to keep everything quiet." I smiled. All at once, I realized there was no reason for this wedding to happen at all.