The Book You Wish Your Parents Had Read Novels & Stories

I continue to read her journal. As I read on, her list unfolded before me, each line hitting like a punch. Have a boyfriend. Experience love, or something like it. Drink, cut loose, break all the rules. All things she’d never dared do but now wanted to cram into her short life. And there, at the end of her list, in faint handwriting, one last wish stood out: “Have a child. So my parents won’t be lonely when I’m gone.”

I wanna if someone out there is reading my book hope you enjoyed this chapter lots of love faiyth♡♡♡

��𝘥. "𝘠𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘴 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬, 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘸𝘪𝘴𝘩 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘦𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶." 𝘏𝘦 𝘴𝘢𝘪𝘥 𝘣𝘰𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘰𝘺 𝘤𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘣𝘰𝘰𝘬 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘸𝘢𝘭𝘬𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰𝘸� ��𝘳𝘥𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘰𝘰𝘳 𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘦𝘦𝘵 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘴.

I love you too much and rent free. Third: My children. May they never read this book until they are MUCH older, but if they do I hope they live their best and happiest life and know that they are the air that I breathe and my reason for everything that I do. Fourth: My mother. Thank you for listening to my ramblings about plot points, the world of werewolves and VERY watered-down descriptions of dark romance. You have always been my idol, and I couldn't be half of the person I am without the love, guidance, and acceptance you have given me through the years.

His hope was rekindled, but only for it to disappear again when he heard what Iero said next. “Yes.” Iero nodded in affirmation. “My parents saw that I liked the story, and they wanted to ask the wandering merchant for more kinds of books.” He said. “But…” he heaved a sigh and shook his head. “They didn’t manage to find this wandering merchant again no matter how hard they tried. So, my parents could only read the book to me again and again. Fortunately, I also liked the book, no matter how many times they read it to me.” He smiled.

I picked up groceries, stopped by the hardware store to get wall hooks for the baby monitor, and then—on a whim—walked into the local bookstore. I hadn’t been inside in over a year. The bell above the door chimed, and the scent of old paper hit me like a memory. The place hadn’t changed much. Still cramped, still charming. Floor-to-ceiling shelves, a mismatched armchair in the corner. I wandered until I reached the parenting section. There were too many titles. Too many opinions. I almost turned away. Then I saw one tucked on the end of a lower shelf: “Letters to My Child: A Father’s Journal.”

They matter more then anything. I hope you liked my book. Please leave me comments if you think something is wrong or want something explained in the next book. Thank you for all your support. I want to give thanks to the people who helpped me realise my dream. You know who you are. Thank you all.

"We will give you our full attention and time, you can ask anything and we will do it with you." "Even celebrating my birthday?" Noah shyly asked, his parents previously told him, birthdays are a waste of time and money, he never celebrated any of his birthdays, even if he was a baby, he vaguely remembers the day passing as normal, being ignored and laid on the floor, while his mom talked on the phone with people, he never thought of the day to be something special, until his friend asked about his birthday, which he didn't know, so the teacher has to answer, while his friend explained birthdays to him and how amazing they are; when he asked him mother, she brushed him off and gave him money

Safe in our little world of books and silence. “I wish…..” he started, then he stopped. “What?” I asked. He hesitated a bit. “I wish we could find the type of love we read in books.” My chest tightened. “But does it exist, that kind of love and devotion. Even if does, it’s not for everyone. Mama and Papa were lucky.” “Leila! Dinner is ready! Get your brother.” My mom yelled. Author’s note Hi everyone! 😊 If you’re currently reading this, I’d really love to hear from you. Knowing that people are following along means a lot and keeps me motivated to continue with daily updates.

I murmured, watching the foam in my drink dissolve, I then used my spoon to shift it to a side and scooped it onto the saucer. Lev had shifted his attention to me now. “In high school. I finished a book, actually.” He lifted his mug to his lips and took a sip. “You mean to say a whole book? What's it about?” “Yeah. A whole book. It's a... a messy teenage attempt at fantasy romance. I was a reader then and writing down my imaginations was key. I wrote about betrayal and two people who are so in love.” I paused before I said too much. That book was born from a place of how I wanted my parents to act and love each other.