In Love with My Foster Uncle
534 Views · Ongoing · Julian Wilson
“Tell me you don’t love me, Gabriel.”
“Don’t ask me for something I have no right to give.”
Gabriel. The man I called my uncle. We weren’t related by blood. He took me in after my parents died.
Loving him wasn’t in my mother’s last wishes.
His guardianship ended when I turned eighteen.
But I stayed.
And somewhere over the next six months, between quiet conversations, ordinary dinners, and the nights he stayed beside me when sleep wouldn’t come, I stopped seeing him as simply the man responsible for me.
I began wanting more.
To Gabriel, loving me would mean betraying the promise that brought me to his door.
To me, being his responsibility is no longer enough.
He says I deserve someone else.
So why does he look away every time I ask if that’s what he really wants?
“Don’t ask me for something I have no right to give.”
Gabriel. The man I called my uncle. We weren’t related by blood. He took me in after my parents died.
Loving him wasn’t in my mother’s last wishes.
His guardianship ended when I turned eighteen.
But I stayed.
And somewhere over the next six months, between quiet conversations, ordinary dinners, and the nights he stayed beside me when sleep wouldn’t come, I stopped seeing him as simply the man responsible for me.
I began wanting more.
To Gabriel, loving me would mean betraying the promise that brought me to his door.
To me, being his responsibility is no longer enough.
He says I deserve someone else.
So why does he look away every time I ask if that’s what he really wants?

















































