Ungrateful People Novels & Stories

It's all your fault for not giving me what I want," she said bitterly. Her words stunned me. I couldn't believe that she wasn't feeling grateful for everything I had sacrificed for her. Instead, she resented me for not giving her everything she desired. It became clear that I hadn't raised a grateful young woman but someone intent on draining me dry. I then looked at Howard, hoping he would finally stand up for me. Instead, he pulled Madeline into his arms. "You're so silly. Why would you think like that? Everything I have will always be yours. Other people can have your leftovers."

“Danielle, don’t be ungrateful.” “You're right. I’m as ungrateful as they come. Did you think I was born yesterday? Why would I need a place in this family at 22 years old? I don’t understand how you don’t see how ironic this is. Why did it take so long for you to make this decision? Where was this resolute back when my mom was desperate enough to bring me to you?”

"Whatever you ask for, it should be precious enough for people to note that we have thanked you well for everything." "Can you love me back as much as I love you?" I ask. They look disappointed at my request. "Of course we do. But our gift to you needs to be something noticeable, honey. Otherwise people will assume that we are ungrateful and undeserving of you," Parish explains. Sounds like reputation is really important to them. So much that they have to ensure that everyone notices that they have been grateful to their mate. Life with them will definitely not be a simple love story. The people also have to be pleased with them.

Yesterday, after a severe episode with my abdominal flares, I frustratingly sent her a text telling her how much of an ungrateful person she is. Which is absolutely true because I provided her with free state-of-the-art accommodation for years without her paying a dime. I provided her with food. I solved two of the three basic human needs for her, making it possible for her to save her meagre salary and use it for something else. Yet she had the effrontery to disappear into thin air without my permission. That’s the thing with poor church rats: gratitude is always a chore for them. Almost a minute or more of consistent trial, her line hasn't connected.

Celeste raised her eyebrows when she heard that. Using their past kindness to force others to be grateful. It was a tactic commonly used by people who only sought profit. If they did not agree to the other party's request, they would be labeled as ungrateful. The more they gave in, the more people would take advantage of them like wild plants.

The girl cried very hard while shaking her head. "Do you believe that I'm not an ungrateful person?" "Of course, you're not an ungrateful person. How would an ungrateful person save my life?" Kingston said softly. The girl cried even harder when she heard that. "But they, all of my relatives from my maternal family, said…that both my younger brother and I have…no conscience and are ungrateful. "They said that we were unappreciative. Even my mother looked down on…me, my brother, and my father."

It’s not like I’m immune to bitter taste, I too have I’m a sucker for sweet things yet I sacrificed my taste buds for this ungrateful soul! All he could do was order me around while I agreeably complied. “Here” I passed it on to him but this man had the nerves to spew such shameless remarks. “Aren’t you going to mouth feed me this as well? If you won’t then I don’t want the water” What in the world? Am I cursed to take care of ungrateful people for the rest of my life? I happen to be surrounded by a lot of them actually! “Suit yourself!”

“The least you can do is be grateful and stop asking questions.” I held back a scoff. “So you’re happy with being successful even at the expense of someone else’s life?” I questioned, casting him an angry look. “So you don’t care if people get hurt? You only care about the money you’ll get?” My parents could be annoying sometimes and I always tolerated them and looked the other way. They always called me ungrateful whenever I tried to speak up, but I couldn’t keep quiet this time around. I needed to speak up.

broken, unthinkable. And yet… gratitude sat uneasily beside something sharper. Pride. Six years under the Blakes had taught me how to survive without expecting rescue. Survival meant swallowing humiliation, keeping my head down, enduring cruelty while pretending it did not matter. Now, here I was, under another man’s roof. Safe, yes. But not free. Dependent. That word burned more than any bruise.

"She managed to make a two-bedroom apartment with paid utilities sound like a gulag." "She knows her audience," Noah said. He was standing by the espresso machine, his back rigid. "She knows people love to hate the rich. Especially the young, successful rich who 'forget where they came from.'" "We didn't forget," Aria said. "We remember too well." She scrolled to the comments. “Ungrateful brats. They owe their parents everything.” “I bet they sleep on silk sheets while their mom starves.” “Money ruins families.” "Stop reading," Noah said. He walked over and closed the tablet cover. "It's poison."