My Busy Dad Never Spends Time with Us and Treats Mom Iike a Servant — My Brother & I Taught Him a Lesson
The moment of truth had arrived. I took a deep breath, dropping the act.
“Yes, Dad. This is exactly how you’ve been treating us and Mom. You’re always too busy for us, and you treat Mom like she’s just here to serve you.”
Close-up side shot of a shocked man’s eyes | Source: Midjourney
Close-up side shot of a shocked man’s eyes | Source: Midjourney
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Josh joined in, his voice steady despite the emotion I could see in his eyes. “She works just as hard as you do, but she also has to take care of everything at home. And all you do is complain and demand things from her.”
Dad’s shoulders slumped as the weight of our words hit him. He opened his mouth to respond, but before he could, the front door opened once more.
Mom walked in, looking more relaxed than I’d seen her in years. Her eyes widened as she took in the scene before her.
A surprised woman covering her mouth | Source: Pexels
A surprised woman covering her mouth | Source: Pexels
“What’s going on?” she asked, glancing between us and Dad.
Dad turned to her, and I was shocked to see tears in his eyes. “I… I think I’ve been a terrible husband and father,” he said, his voice cracking. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t realize how bad it was until now.”
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Without another word, he walked into the kitchen. We all watched in stunned silence as he started pulling out pots and pans.
“Carl?” Mom called out, confusion evident in her voice. “What are you doing?”
A man in the kitchen | Source: Pexels
A man in the kitchen | Source: Pexels
“Making dinner! Flatbread, anyone?!” came his reply. “Please, sit down. All of you.”
Josh and I exchanged a look of disbelief before joining Mom at the table. We sat in awkward silence as the sounds and smells of cooking filled the air.
Finally, Dad emerged from the kitchen, carrying a steaming pot. He set it down on the table and began serving us each a portion.
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“I’m sorry,” he said as he worked. “For everything. I’ve been neglecting you all, and I see that now. I’ll do better, I promise.”
A man making pan-baked flatbread in the kitchen | Source: Pexels
A man making pan-baked flatbread in the kitchen | Source: Pexels
As we began to eat, I couldn’t help but marvel at how different this felt. Dad was actually present, asking us about our day, listening to our responses. It was… nice. Weird, but nice.
“So,” Dad said, clearing his throat. “Tell me what I’ve missed. How’s school going for you two?”
Josh and I looked at each other, then back at Dad. Was this for real?
“It’s… fine,” I said cautiously. “I’ve got a big history test coming up next week.”
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A family dinner | Source: Pexels
A family dinner | Source: Pexels
Dad nodded, actually seeming interested. “Maybe I could help you study?”
The offer took me by surprise. “Yeah,” I said, a small smile forming. “That’d be great.”
As we finished dinner, Dad looked at us with a smile, a real one, not the distracted half-smiles we were used to. “Thank you,” he said softly. “For showing me how I was acting. I needed that wake-up call.”
A cheerful man pointing his finger | Source: Freepik
A cheerful man pointing his finger | Source: Freepik
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I felt a warmth in my chest I hadn’t experienced in a long time. “We’re just glad you listened, Dad.”
Josh grinned mischievously. “And maybe now you’ll actually join us to play games?”
Dad laughed, a full, hearty laugh that I realized I’d missed hearing. “Deal. But first, let’s clean up together.”
A teenage girl smiling | Source: Pexels
A teenage girl smiling | Source: Pexels
As we all pitched in to clear the table and wash dishes, I couldn’t help but feel hopeful. This was just one night, and I knew things wouldn’t magically be perfect from here on out. But it was a start, a real one. And for the first time in years, we felt like a family again.
A woman watching a man washing dishes | Source: Pexels
A woman watching a man washing dishes | Source: Pexels
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Here’s another story: I chose to dishonor my dad’s final wish by doing something that haunts me. But there is a heartbreaking reason behind it that still makes me cry.
This work is inspired by real events and people, but it has been fictionalized for creative purposes. Names, characters, and details have been changed to protect privacy and enhance the narrative. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
The author and publisher make no claims to the accuracy of events or the portrayal of characters and are not liable for any misinterpretation. This story is provided “as is,” and any opinions expressed are those of the characters and do not reflect the views of the author or publisher.
