Father In Tagalog Novels & Stories

"Baby, hindi ka nakikita ni daddy. Naaksidente kasi si daddy kaya siya nagkaganyan." "Ano 'yon mommy?" Inosenteng tanong pa nito. "Baby, bulag ang tawag do'n. Ibig sabihin bulag ang daddy mo pero pansamantala lang 'yon kasi gagamutin ng doctor si daddy." Mahinahon na pag paliwanag ko sa kanya. Sunod-sunod naman itong tumango.Batid kong naintindihan naman ako ng aking anak.

Pero ang salitang nakaukit sa punong 'to ay simbolo ng pagkakaibigan naming binuo ng nakalipas na ilang taon. *Flashback* "Paaaa. Pasan mo 'ko. Please" paglalambig ko kay Papa habang binabaybay namin ang malawak na kagubatan. Naisipan kasi nila Mama na pumunta kami sa probinsya nila. At ngayon kasama ang mga kamag-anak ko ay papunta kami sa isang ilog na nasa dulo ng gubat. "Sabihan mo muna si Papa ng Iloveyou." masayang wika ni Papa saka lumuhod sa harapan ko.

“Are you trying to collapse again?” I nearly jumped, and tripped over a small stone. The man standing a few feet away was tall and broad shoulders and wearing shorts and nothing else. His dark hair fell just above his eyes, and the way he looked at me made me look away. It was my step father-in-law, Damian Blackwell. “I… I—” I stammered and straightened my back, trying to appear stronger than I felt. “I don’t need a babysitter.” “You’re out here in the cold,” he said, taking a few steps closer. “You’re going to hurt yourself.”

A waiter passed by with a silver tray of champagne. I took a glass and drank it in one smooth swallow. Then I adjusted my suit, It was time. I walked toward the stage. The room fell silent the moment I stepped up. Every eye turned to me, this was what they had come for. I rested my hands lightly on the podium. “My father,” I began, my voice steady, “was a man of strength, discipline, and vision.” The room listened. “He believed in loyalty. He believed in legacy and above all, he believed that power must be protected not abused.”

The pain. But she could not speak. She could not say it. Harrison was still standing there. Silent. Watching. His face showed nothing. But his eyes were dark. Very dark. “Answer her,” he finally said. His voice was low. Cold. Emily slowly looked at him. “Sir…” she whispered. He did not soften. “Who is the father?” he asked. Her lips trembled. Tears rolled down her cheeks. She opened her mouth. But no sound came out.

Exhilarated, Peter answered, "Of course I'd want him to go real hard. I want him to ravish you!" I thought, "Did you hear that, Dad?" I shot Anthony a lustful glance. Inwardly, I said, "Your son has given his command. Go harder!" I paused, letting out another moan. "I-In that case, I will go all out with my act now, darling. D-Don't call me a slut, okay?" My husband beamed. "It's all just an act anyway. Just hurry up and get in character." With that, I let myself go completely. "Hurry up, Dad. More. Don't stop."

" His words sent a thrill through me, but Susan beamed with uncontained joy. I opened my mouth to tell my father the truth, but I hesitated. I remembered Susan's promise—she only needed one day to experience this life, and then she would return my father to me. So, I swallowed my urge to speak. "Dad, uh… Do you need a housekeeper at home?" Susan shot me a look, silently pleading with my father not to keep me around. My fists clenched tightly. I couldn't believe she was going back on her word. My father turned to me, his gaze softening with an unexpected warmth. Then, slowly shaking his head, he murmured, "It's… it's uncanny how much you look like her." He then asked, "Are you married?"

That I was screwing his friend behind his back. A father who vanishes—and when he’s not sleeping with some random woman while his partner waits for him at home, he’s using drugs. A father who neglected the hospital, burying it in debt as if it were his personal playground. A father who demands loyalty… but sleeps with his best friend’s wife, cousin, and aunt. Who was Heitor Montenegro, really? The tears wouldn’t stop falling in this imperfect world—one that revealed itself more flawed each day. I don’t want a father like this.

“So you still remember you’re my husband? You still remember that Artie is your son? “How many times have I sought you out? Didn’t your bodyguard tell you? I even went on my knees before him in the end. Has your heart ever softened? “All I wanted was for you to see your son one last time, but all you care about is Jenny Horne and her child!” “Whose father are you, exactly? Can you even tell the difference anymore?” I recalled how, whilst Artie had been understanding of Logan’s busy schedule, Logan was letting another person’s child ride on his shoulders. My heart felt as though it were being pierced by countless tiny needles, a dense stinging pain coursing through me. Logan opened his mouth.