Connect with us

З життя

Daddy, Don’t Go! Please Don’t Leave Us! No More Toys, No More Sweets – Just Stay With Us! Six-Year-Old Oliver Clings to His Father’s Leg, Begging Him to Stay

Published

on

“Daddy, don’t go! Please, dont leave us! Dad, dont buy me anything else, or Alfie either. Just stay with us! We dont need toy cars or sweets. No presents! Just be here!” screamed six-year-old Oliver, clinging to his fathers leg.

Their mother was sobbing in the bedroom, too weak to stand or come out.

Meanwhile, fourteen-year-old Alfie stood with clenched fists, love for his father wrestling with hatred inside him.

Oliver was just a little boyhe didnt understand. But Alfie had seen how badly Mum had suffered. Earlier, shed been on her knees, begging Dad to stay, just long enough for Oliver to grow up a little. But her pleas had done nothing.

“Stop it! Get up! Dont humiliate yourself, you hear? He doesnt care about you. He doesnt care about any of us, so let him go!” Alfie rushed forward and started pulling his little brother away from their father.

“Son, why are you doing this? Ill visit, Ill help. Ill just be living somewhere else. But I wont love you any less. Weve just decided its for the best,” Dad began.

“Who decided? You decided! Think I didnt hear anything? Mum begged you not to leave. Shes here, were here! Were family. But youre leaving! For some woman! Is she really worth more than us?” Alfie fought hard not to cry.

Family Games

If Dad had hugged him, put down his bags, and said it was all a stupid mistake Alfie wouldve thrown himself into his arms. Forgotten everything. Forgiven him, of course.

Because he was Dad.

The one whod taught him to fix cars, taken him fishing for trout, played football with him, read bedtime stories. How could he just walk away and erase all of that? Them? Why?

Oliver wailed. Mum cried. Dad looked at them all and left, shoulders hunched.

And for a long time, the echoes chased him: “Daddy! Dont go!”

Life changed after that.

Alfie grew to hate his father. He refused to see him, threw back the gifts he brought.

Oliver waited. Sat by the door. Stood on the balcony, staring into the distance.

Dad asked to take the boys out. Mum wouldnt allow it.

Not that Alfie wanted to. Oliver longed for Dad, but they told him, “He doesnt want to see you.”

Mum wouldve proudly refused child support, but they needed something to live on.

“Your dad fell in love. Thats how it goes! The grass is always greener. He doesnt need you now. Therell be new children soon,” shed say bitterly.

Alfie listened in silence. Oliver cried.

A year later, Dad came back. Or tried to. Oliver wasnt homejust Alfie and Mum. Dad begged for forgiveness, said hed made a mistake. He couldnt live without them.

Mum wouldnt take him back. Those were her moments of revenge. And Alfie wouldnt forgive him either. The hurt was still raw.

No one asked Oliver. He was too young.

Time passed. Alfie went into trade. Oliver became a doctor. The older brother had his own family now. The younger one cared for Mum until she passed.

Not long after, Oliver decided to marry his childhood sweetheart, Katie.

Before the wedding, Alfie had business in another town. He suggested they go togethertake a break. They chose the train instead of driving. Drank tea, talked over the sound of the tracks.

They didnt argue much, got on well, though they rarely saw each other. But they were very different. Alfie was tough, impatient, only listened to himself.

He jokingly called Oliver “Mr. Mercy” and told him kindness was out of fashion.

After finishing business, they wandered the unfamiliar, beautiful city before heading back to the station.

Near the entrance, Alfie nearly tripped over a man. He glared, muttering that people shouldnt sprawl where they didnt belong. The man sat on cardboardfilthy, bearded, legless. Then he looked up.

Oliver had already walked ahead when he heard Alfie laughing. He stopped.

Alfie was pointing at the homeless man, roaring. Oliver rushed back, grabbed his brothers sleeve, yanked him away.

“Stop it! Thats disgusting. You dont know what hes been through. Who are we to judge?” he hissed.

“What? Not us? Oh, but it is us. Dont you recognise him? You were too small. But I did. Straight away. Dads eyesgreen, just like ours. Mum always said she fell for his eyes. Wasted love, turns out. Whats the matter, you bastard? Surprised? Were your sons, Dad. Didnt expect that, did you? Didnt think Id ever see you again. But I guess theres justice. Look at you now. This is for Mums tears. For ours. For everything!” Alfie shouted furiously.

Oliver stood frozen. The man on the ground wept silently, only murmuring, “Youre so handsome.”

“Nothing like you! Shame youre our father. Disgusting. Rot here in the streets. Thats your punishment. Cry all you want. You threw away a good lifea family. Ran off for love. Wheres that love now, Dad? Found some tramp to shack up with? Worthless,” Alfie spat.

“Enough! Stop it now, or I swear” Oliver snapped.

Alfie started to retort but gasped. Oliver crouched. Reached out. Touched the dirty cheek, stroked it.

“Hello, Dad.”

The man grabbed his hand, pressed it to his face. Sobbed into it.

Who did he see then? Maybe a little boy with wide eyes, clutching his leg years ago, screaming, “Daddy, dont go!”

Theyd grown up. Both of them. Become men. And he owed them everything.

Alfie kept raging. Dad stayed silent. He deserved it. But what broke him wasnt Alfies angerit was Olivers gentle hand, his quiet forgiveness. Not a single word of blame.

That unspoken love shattered him.

“Come on, Oliver, our trains leaving,” Alfie tugged his brother up.

“Im not going. You go. Ill catch up. I cant leave Dad.”

“What? This scum who ruined Mums life? Are you mad? Look at him! Spit on him and lets go! Ive never been happierhe deserves this!”

Then Oliver lifted his father into his arms. The man was thin, light. Only his arms were stronghow he moved.

People watching gasped. Alfie stood speechless. Dad clung to Olivers neck.

Everything froze. Alfie cursed and stormed off.

“Son my boy. Forgive me. The legs nearly froze back then. I was so lost without you. Wanted to come back, but it didnt work. Just drifted. Leave me, Oliver. I dont deserve this.”

“I forgave you long ago, Dad. But I wont leave you here. Lets get you cleaned up. Im a doctor nowremember when we used to fix my toys? My hippo? Id check his temperature with a spoon! You drove us around in your toy car. You were the driver, I was the doctor. Remember? Well figure something out so you can get around easier. Youll live with meIve got a three-bed. Weekends at the cottage, I built it myself. Youll like the fresh air, the garden. Well have tea in the evenings.”

He walked slowly toward the exit. A young, strong, handsome man, carrying his broken fatherthe man whod abandoned him.

Some shook their heads. Why bother? Let him crawl, like Alfie said.

An eye for an eye.

Others admired it. Said it was blood.

But really, the boy whod healed toy animals had just grown into a good man. One who loved his father, despite everything.

Like and comment below!

Click to comment

Leave a Reply

Ваша e-mail адреса не оприлюднюватиметься. Обов’язкові поля позначені *

дев'ятнадцять + 9 =

Також цікаво:

З життя4 години ago

A Parent’s Love: Family Gatherings, Christmas Surprises, and a Lesson in Protectiveness on a Winter’s Day

Parental Love Mum always said, Children are the flowers of life, shed laugh, and Dad would grin and add, Flowers...

З життя4 години ago

Igor Never Returned From His Holiday: When Your Husband Disappears by the Seaside, a Wife’s Search, Tense Family Reunion, and the Painful Truth That Comes Home

Since his holiday, Stanley never came back Hasnt your husband written or called yet? Not a word, Vera, not after...

З життя5 години ago

“Oh, You Drive Me Mad!… I Eat Wrong, I Dress Wrong, I Do Everything Wrong!”—Pavel’s Voice Broke Into a Shout. “You Can’t Do Anything Right!… Can’t Even Earn a Decent Living… And You’re No Help Around the House, Ever!”—Marina Sobbed, “…And There Are No Children…” She Whispered. Belka, the Ten-Year-Old Ginger-and-White Cat, Watched Silently from Atop the Cupboard as Another Family “Tragedy” Unfolded. She Knew, Even Felt, That Mum and Dad Loved Each Other Dearly—So Why Say Such Hurtful Things? Mum Ran Off Crying, Dad Chain-Smoked by the Window, and Belka Thought to Herself: “What This Home Needs Is Happiness, And Happiness Means Kids… Somehow, We Need to Find Children…” Belka Herself Couldn’t Have Kittens—She’d Been Neutered Long Ago. As for Mum, The Doctors Said It Was Possible, But Something Never Quite Worked Out… The Next Morning, After Mum and Dad Left for Work, Belka Squeezed Out the Window and Went to See Her Neighbour, Whiskers, for Advice. “Why On Earth Would You Want Kids?” Sniffed Whiskers. “Ours Always Come Over—Hide From Them If You Can! They Smear My Muzzle With Lipstick Or Squeeze Me ‘Til I Can’t Breathe!” Belka Sighed, “We Need Proper Children… But Where On Earth Do We Get Them?” “Well… That Stray Molly on the Street Just Had Five… Take Your Pick…” Whiskers Shrugged. On Her Own Daring, Belka Tiptoed Balcony to Balcony Down to the Street, Squeezed Through The Bars of a Basement Window, and Called Out, “Molly, Could You Come Here for Just a Moment?” From Deep Within the Cellar Came the Desperate Squeaking of Kittens. Belka Cautiously Approached. Underneath the Heater, Five Blind, Mismatched Kittens Searched The Air, Wailing Hungrily. Molly Hadn’t Been There for At Least Three Days. The Babies Were Starving… Feeling She Might Cry, Belka Carefully Carried Each Kitten to the Entrance of Her Building. Lying Beside the Screeching, Hungry Bunch, She Waited Anxiously for Mum and Dad to Come Home. When Pavel and Marina Returned from Work, They Were Astonished—There Was Belka, Never Before Out Alone, Being Nursed by Five Noisy Kittens. “How on Earth Did This Happen?” Pavel Stammered. “It’s a Miracle…” Whispered Marina. They Scooped Up Belka and the Kittens and Rushed Inside. As Pavel Watched Their Purring Cat in a Box Full of Babies, He Asked, “So… What Are We Going To Do With Them?” “I’ll Hand-Feed Them… When They’re Grown, We’ll Find Them Homes… I’ll Call My Friends,” Whispered Marina. Three Months Later, Still Stunned By The Miracle, Marina Sat Stroking Her Feline Clan, Repeating to Herself, “This Can’t Be Real… This Can’t Happen…” And Soon After, She and Pavel Wept for Joy, Laughing and Embracing, “I’m So Glad We Finished Building This House!” “Yes! Perfect for a Child to Play Outside!” “And the Kittens Can All Run Around!” “There’s Room for Everyone!” “I Love You!” “Oh, I Love You Even More!” Wise Old Belka Wiped Away a Tear—Life Was Finally Coming Together…

Im so fed up with you! Nothing I do is right for you! The way I eat, what I wearits...

З життя5 години ago

Excuse Me, Sir, Please Don’t Push—Oh, Is That Smell Coming From You? A Chance Encounter, a Perfectly Laid Bathroom Tile, and a Second Wind: How Rita’s Life Changed at 53 When a Homeless Stranger with Sapphire Eyes Built Her Happiness and Challenged Her Son’s Inheritance Plans

– Excuse me, sir, please dont push. Oh, goodness. Is that smell coming from you? – Sorry, the man muttered,...

З життя6 години ago

Mother-in-Law Anna Peters was sitting in her kitchen, watching the milk quietly simmering on the stove. She had forgotten to stir it three times already, each time remembering too late: the milk would froth, spill over, and she would clean the stove irritably with a cloth. In those moments she felt it keenly: it wasn’t really about the milk. Ever since her second grandchild was born, everything in the family seemed to derail. Her daughter grew tired, thinner, and quieter. Her son-in-law came home late, ate in silence, sometimes heading straight to the bedroom. Anna saw this and thought: how can you just leave a woman to cope alone? She spoke up. At first gently, then more sharply. First to her daughter, then to her son-in-law. And then she noticed something strange: after she spoke, the house didn’t feel lighter, but heavier. Her daughter defended her husband, he grew gloomier, and Anna returned home with a sinking feeling that once again, she hadn’t done things right. That day she went to see their vicar, not for advice, but because there was nowhere else to go with this feeling. “I suppose I’m just not a good person,” she said, not meeting his gaze. “I always do things wrong.” The vicar was sitting at his desk, writing. He set his pen aside. “Why do you think that?” Anna shrugged. “I tried to help. Instead, I only seem to make everyone angry.” He looked at her attentively, but without judgment. “You’re not a bad person. You’re just exhausted. And very anxious.” She sighed. That rang true. “I’m so worried for my daughter,” she said. “She’s so different since the baby. And him…” She waved a hand. “It’s like he doesn’t even notice.” “Do you notice what he does?” the vicar asked. Anna thought for a moment. She remembered how, last week, he washed the dishes late at night when he thought no one saw. How on Sunday he took the pram out for a walk, even though he looked as if he’d rather collapse into bed. “He does help… I suppose,” she replied doubtfully. “But not the way he should.” “And what way is that?” the vicar asked gently. Anna wanted to reply at once, but realised she didn’t know. She could only think: more, better, more attentively. But what, exactly, was hard to explain. “I just want things to be easier for her,” she said. “Then say that,” the vicar replied quietly. “Not to him, but to yourself.” She looked at him. “What do you mean?” “I mean you’re not fighting for your daughter — you’re fighting her husband. And fighting means being tense. That exhausts everyone: you, and them.” Anna was silent for a long while. Then she asked, “So what should I do? Pretend everything’s fine?” “No,” he replied. “Just do what helps. Not words, but actions. And not against someone, but for someone.” On her way home, she thought over his words. Remembered how, when her daughter was a little girl, she would just sit beside her quietly if she cried — never lecturing. Why was it different now? The next day, she arrived unannounced. She brought soup. Her daughter was surprised; her son-in-law embarrassed. “I won’t stay long,” Anna said. “Just wanted to help.” She watched the children while her daughter slept. Left quietly, without a word about how hard things were, or what they ought to do. The next week, she came again. And again, the week after. She still noticed that her son-in-law was far from perfect. But she began to see other things: the way he gently picked up the baby, how at night he tucked a blanket around her daughter when he thought no one was looking. One day, in the kitchen, she couldn’t help herself and asked him, “Is it hard for you right now?” He looked startled, as if no one had ever asked before. “It’s hard,” he answered, after a pause. “Very.” And nothing more. But something sharp in the air between them was gone. Anna realised she’d been waiting for him to change. But it needed to start with her. She stopped discussing him with her daughter. When her daughter complained, she didn’t say “I told you so.” She just listened. Sometimes she took the children to give her daughter a break. Sometimes she called her son-in-law to ask how things were. It wasn’t easy. It was much easier to stay angry. But gradually, the house grew quieter. Not better, not perfect — just quieter. Free of endless tension. One day her daughter said, “Mum, thank you for being with us now, not against us.” Anna thought about those words for a long time. She understood something simple: reconciliation doesn’t come from someone admitting they’re wrong. It comes when someone is willing to stop fighting first. She still wanted her son-in-law to be more attentive. That wish hadn’t gone away. But alongside it lived something more important: for her family to have peace. And every time the old feeling — frustration, resentment, the urge to criticise — rose up, she asked herself: Do I want to be right, or do I want to make things easier for them? Almost always, the answer showed her what to do next.

Mother-in-Law Margaret Williams sat in the kitchen, her eyes resting on the saucepan of milk gently simmering on the hob....

З життя6 години ago

Excuse Me, Sir, Please Don’t Push—Oh, Is That Smell Coming From You? A Chance Encounter, a Perfectly Laid Bathroom Tile, and a Second Wind: How Rita’s Life Changed at 53 When a Homeless Stranger with Sapphire Eyes Built Her Happiness and Challenged Her Son’s Inheritance Plans

– Excuse me, sir, please dont push. Oh, goodness. Is that smell coming from you? – Sorry, the man muttered,...

З життя7 години ago

“My Grandchildren Only See Fresh Fruit Once a Month, But She Buys Expensive Food for Her Cats!”: My Daughter-in-Law Accuses Me of Being Cold-Hearted for Putting My Pets First, but I Won’t Let Her Guilt Me into Supporting Their Growing Family

My grandchildren only see fresh fruit once a month, yet she spends a fortune on fancy cat food, my daughter-in-law...

З життя7 години ago

Oxana, Are You Busy? – A Festive New Year’s Eve Tale of Family, Holiday Hustle, a Mishap in the Snow, and an Unexpected Encounter with a Doctor That Changed Everything

Annie, are you busy? her mum calls, poking her head through the door to her daughters room. Just a second,...