A Letter To My Father Novels & Stories

My hand grabs hold of the letter she left for me in my pocket. “I was given a letter by my father from mom. I didn’t have the courage to read before but now I have,” I spot the Payne brothers at the back in black suits and sunglasses. They came. My mother’s coffin stands in front of me. I take it out and open it, finally finding the courage to read it. Olivia, My beautiful, my one and only daughter. I’m a coward. This is the first time I have written a letter to anyone; it feels so weird writing all I have been feeling and felt on a piece of paper.

The kind of man who saw his own son as a project, a thing to mold, no matter the cost. A folded piece of paper slipped out and fluttered to the floor as I turned to another page. I picked it up, my fingers trembling. It was a letter, written in a softer tone. "Roman, my darling, If you're reading this, it means I haven't done enough to keep you safe. I sincerely apologize for all you have gone through. Your father and I had different ideas of how to raise you, but I always believed in your kind heart. Never let him take that from you.

He remembered it clearly that it wasn’t there some time ago when he went to look out from the window. He moved the paper near the lamp and started reading it in its dim light. The letter was poorly scribbled with some hieroglyphic sandwiched in the paragraphs. He tried to read it: “My beloved son, I am overwhelmed to see your progress and growth. I am proud of seeing you from the heavens. The way you will be taking your responsibilities, sharing the burden of your father in organizing the pack, protecting them, and providing them with the best.

David crying when someone did not make it. When I left, I felt lighter. Not because I had closure. Because I had something better. I had a picture of who my father was. Not a ghost. Not a secret. Not a regret. A man. A doctor. A hero. On the flight home, I wrote. Not the novel. A letter. To David Chen. Dear Dad, I never knew you. You never knew me. But I want you to know that I turned out okay. I am stubborn. I am kind. I do not give up.

His eyes skimmed over the neatly written words, and a faint, almost imperceptible smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “I see what you’re up to, Alex,” he said finally, his tone even but laced with an undercurrent of amusement. I felt my heart drop. “It’s not what you think, Father,” I said quickly, scrambling for an explanation. “It’s just... it’s a letter from a friend. She—she just wanted to thank me for helping her out.” My father’s gaze remained fixed on the letter as he folded it back into its envelope. He looked up at me with a mixture of bemusement and approval. “I’m impressed with you, Alex,” he said, his voice warm. “It’s good to see you helping others.”

Cutting this short before everything exploded. I wrote the letter one last time, keeping it short and honest enough without destroying her: Mom, I’m sorry for leaving like this. Something came up with Dad and I need to go back early. Thank you for everything, hopefully I'll spend more time next summer. I love you more than you know. I’ll call you when I land. Lana

(POV: Blake) I didn't move from his desk until everyone else had gone to bed. The envelope sat open in front of me. One page and my father's handwriting — precise and unhurried even at the end, the specific script of a man who had never in his life written anything in a way he wants to pass his information to others. I picked it up and read --- “Blake My Son” No preamble, You never liked preamble neither did I. “I am writing this because there are things a man cannot say standing up. I have spent my entire life standing up and I have discovered, rather late, that it costs something. I am writing this so the cost doesn't pass entirely to you because I knew a day like this will come.”

Then I unfold the letter. ‘My beautiful Rue, You have been the apple of my eye and God’s greatest gift to me. . .and to mankind’ I stare at the words, unsure whether to laugh, cry, or burn the damn thing. I pause, staring at the paper. That… in no way sounds like my father. He wasn’t a monster, no. But he was never the type to say kind, flowery things to me. And he definitely wasn’t emotional, unless he wanted something.

My brain could not stay in control much more longer. I was going to explode into bits with this orgasm. "Daddy! Please!" I screamed even though I wasn't too sure the words actually made sense at all when I screamed them out. "I will never deprive my daddy! I... I will never stay away from you! It's all my fault! I should have trusted my daddy more than anyone else! You want me! You want me so much and it was never an act! I know! I know now! I know please... Daddyyyy! Oh fuck! Oh please!"

his father said softly, his gaze warm. Adrian smiled. “I’m the one who should thank you,Dad!” “What? What did you just say?” Adrian was startled; he thought his father hadn’t heard him. He took a deep breath and said, “I mean… you’re welcome, Father. Goodnight.” He replied with a meaningful smile and closed his father’s bedroom door.