Father Day Stories Novels & Stories

My father had only cussed at me a few times before, and only when I did something really, really bad—like sneak out of the house in the middle of the night or clog the toilet with all of Mom’s lipsticks after we fought. The disappointment and anger in his voice had me shaking. “We met weeks ago.” “You said that,” Mom snapped. I resisted sending her an angry look. Any aggression on my part would only make things worse. Dad gruffly cleared his throat. “He hasn’t said anything about this to me.” I eagerly leaned forward. “That’s because we didn’t know you two were friends until last weekend at the fundraiser. And I wouldn’t let him tell you. I wanted to let you know myself.”

Once upon a time, I guess that is how they start a nice fairytale or some romance story. My father never missed the chance to tell me about his love story when I was a child. From his story, it was clear that he loved my mum so much and dad pampered me a lot. Twenty-seven years ago, at a nice and lovely coffee shop, the weather was beautiful and bright, two souls from parallel worlds met, my mum and my dad. My dad was the dreaded Mafia boss, commanded respect from everyone, including from rich families and politicians, everyone was scared of him. At his sight, everyone trembles and bows.

He then said, washing away the horrible thought that my grandmother had placed in my mind. “Thank you. I really needed to hear that right now, because it was hard for me to believe that my father was capable of that. Growing up, he was kind and loving to me, and he used to tell me bedtime stories of his world. He even told me stories of you and your brothers. I know that he must have missed you all dearly, and that was his way of keeping the memory of you alive.” I said to Joseph, feeling the need to let him know that he hadn’t been forgotten by his son.

Would anyone else have been as calm as Dominic while speaking with the captives to get information for the next mission? Since he claimed he's been trying so hard to understand the motive behind his father's intention to take my parents out, what else could I do but believe that? If he was truly involved and his father didn't remember to mention that in the notes he left, how would I ever find that out? Many people have believed a lot of lies, not because they wanted to, but because of how beautiful those lies were, how it helped push their own agenda, or simply because there was no available truth to believe.

And daddy chuckles. “Mommy won’t be angry, and she loves daddy.” He whispers back. And I know she does. Mommy and daddy love each other sooooooo much. Daddy tells me the story about the king that found a girl in the forest and saved her. And I fall asleep thinking maybe it’s the daddy that saved mommy. -

I could almost sense Ember’s frustration. My father didn’t push the subject any further. Instead, he began sharing the story of how he met my mother. “Back then, I was just a young man with nothing to my name,” he said, a wistful smile on his face. “I would spend my days doing nothing worthwhile. I could never compare to you now. But somehow, by the grace of the Moon Goddess, I found the love of my life.”

Her hands clutched my clothes desperately, fingers digging into fabric as if she could anchor me to the floor if she held tight enough. “I will come back,” I whispered into her hair. It was a lie. But it was all I had. They came that night. Three men. Heavy boots. Dark jackets. The kind of men who did not look around when they entered a room because they already owned it. My father opened the door without argument. My mother screamed my name. One of the men grabbed my arm. His grip was firm, practiced. I did not fight. Fighting was what children did when they believed rescue was possible.

He was proud Roman was doing really well for himself. "I miss him too." Roman closed his eyes as all the moments he shared with his father washed over him. He missed the early morning jogs his father would always forced him to accompany him on around the house. Roman wouldn't lie that he ended up loving it and getting used it. His father would always tell him stories about his childhood and how he grew up. His father would also tell him stories about when he and Daniel were still kids. Roman really missed those days. It was only during such times his father was nice and kind to him.

"You should get used to him baby doll. He is going to be your father-in-law and he's one of the best men I know. You know I only choose the best for you." "But Dad, you chose his son for me." I point out the obvious. "Of course I did silly girl. What I'm trying to tell you is that a good man will raise a good man. That's all." "Alright Dad. When do I get ready?" "I'm sure Anthony will text you the details." "But he doesn't have my number." "He's highly resourceful and influential. I'd be surprised if he didn't already have your number." That sounds wrong on so many levels, but I let it be.

So when Adam broached the subject, she was ready to provide him with the carefully crafted story she had concocted about his father's disappearance. Sarah explained to Adam that his father had been a soldier in the army, bravely serving his country. One day, while on duty, he had been captured by the enemy, and despite the best efforts of his fellow soldiers, he had never returned home. It was a simple yet poignant tale, one that allowed Adam to understand why his father was not a part of his life.