Father Day Stories Novels & Stories

He looked up at me with his big, innocent eyes. “Mommy, our teacher told us that today is Father’s Day.” His sudden words hit me like a ton of ice, making me freeze on the spot. Father’s Day… I hadn’t even realized it. Human's were differet from werewolves and they indeed celebrate such kind of occasions. But I didn’t even know how to feel hearing those words coming out of my son’s mouth. “She told us to make a gift for our daddy…” Clyde continued speaking with a cautious look on his face, his voice was soft yet uncertain. “But we don’t have daddy now, so we decided to give our gifts to you, Mommy.”

And when I walk past those shelves again, brushing my fingers along the spines, seeing my face in the reflection of the glossy covers, I whisper to myself, “For once, I own my story.” #•# #Joel’s POV# Lately, I’ve been thinking about my father a lot. Maybe it’s because everything in my life feels like the opposite of what he left me with. Fear doesn’t own me the same way it used to. Anger doesn’t eat me alive like it once did. And the closer Dorothy and I get to holding our child, the more I realize—I don’t want to repeat his mistakes.

I was supposed to be dealing with it, not falling apart every time someone asked me how I was doing. Harper seemed to understand that I wasn’t going to answer. She didn’t push. Instead, she asked, “Tell me about your father.” I took a breath. “What do you want to know?” “Anything you want to tell me.” I thought for a moment. “He was funny.” A small smile appeared on my face before I could stop it. “He thought he was funnier than he actually was.” Harper smiled too. “He’d tell the same stories over and over. Even when everyone had heard them already.”

He later agreed, though hesitantly. When we got to the restaurant my friend went from our table to another me to give us chance to talk. Brother started to tell me stories of his parents. He was from a very humble background. His father was a farmer from the western part of the country. He has cocoa, cocoyam, beans, cassava, yam, and all types of vegetables on his farm. They hardly buy anything food from the market. They sell both cocoa and yam. That was what his father used to sponsor him from primary to the university to help himself, as soon as he completed secondary school, he started working as a sales boy in a supermarket, he left the place to start working in the filling station becau

After dealing with those two idiots who didn't know their place, Terrence turned to me, his tone becoming respectful immediately. "Haha, Henry…" Terrence rubbed his hands, an awkward smile on his face. "I'm sorry for causing you all this trouble. I failed as a father, and let my daughter make you unhappy… "Look, I've already scolded them, so can we just… let this go? Let bygones be bygones?" Before I could say anything, Joyce blew up.

“Okay, you have had enough. You should leave.” “I said quality control.” Her father argues. “My daughter has a reputation and I need to protect it.” “I am a big girl now. I can protect everything on my own.” She pushes him toward the door. Peter grabs her cheek and gives Cassie a kiss on the forehead. “Grow up as much as you can, you’ll always be my little princess.” After her father leaves the kitchen, Cassie turns back to being busy with the chicken wings and fries more of them. Half an hour later, she goes to the living room with a big bowl of caramel popcorn and finds her father with aunt Gilda’s husband. He is a giant man with a kind heart and Cassie’s favorite male neighbor. Her favori

“I don’t want to be here anymore.” “I did too. I want to hear about your childhood, Astrid. Your college days and your first date even though your dad already told me that part. I want to hear it from you.” I laughed, "Don’t pretend you care about me, Sir.” “You’re wrong about that. Your father is my best friend and I’ve been informed that I’m your godfather. So, I do care about you and I want you to believe that.” I bring my eyes to his.

"Where do you get that he doesn't love us? Of course he loves us very much. The only thing is his work... he's very busy. "But still, Mommy! All my friends' dads are always with them, even though they work too," he pouted. "Adri, honey. Daddy... he doesn't have his job here, he has it... somewhere else. I'm sure he'll be back soon and he'll never leave our side," I lied, although that's what I wanted to believe. "Mommy, will you give me a picture of daddy? It's Father's Day soon, but…" "Sure, I'll give you a picture, but now, let's get dressed, we have to go to school," I said with a smile.

We sat down on a bed of flowers, and I looked at him with anticipation. "What is it that you need to tell me, Dad?" I asked, my voice trembling. He nodded, his eyes filled with both sadness and affection. "I want to tell you the story of how I met your mother. It's a tale intertwined with pain and duty." I listened intently as my dad began to share his story. He spoke of a loveless marriage, of being given a wife as a duty to his pack. But then, his voice took on a different tone, laced with longing and regret.

“Nonna has told me a lot about you.” “Really?” There was a hint of sadness in Godfather’s voice I could barely catch. “Tell me what she said.” “First that you’re her father. You’re strong and smart and dedicated. You’re the one man she loves who has never betrayed her and she also said that you’re a talented storyteller.” Godfather laughed. “In my experience, storytelling is a must-have talent for all grandfathers.”