First letter
Dad,
I left when I was only 14. The moment you heard the doctor say my legs were too swollen and the treatment was too expensive… you started to give up on me.
Back then I didn’t even understand what kind of sickness could cost so much money. You even blamed me for getting this kind of disease.
I didn’t ask to get sick, Dad.
Dad… even though it hurts so much, I was actually very lucky — There were still people who were willing to care about me, who were willing to love me.
Thank you big aunt, thank you all the aunties and uncles… They gave me warmth, they gave me happiness. They never rejected us just because of your relationship with us. They often cooked rice and brought food for us to eat. When I was discharged, uncle even gave me some pocket money.
Dad… from when we were very small until I finished primary school, they were the ones who accompanied us growing up, who let us feel what a warm home is like. Only then did they move away.
Dad… now it’s good already. You don’t need to keep telling us to stay away from them anymore. Now they are the ones teaching me — and they still tell me “your big aunt is a bad person”, even though big aunt has helped you so, so, so much!
Dad. After I leave, I hope you will really reflect on yourself… I hope you will change. I hope you will treat your other children well.
Dad, after I’m gone, I leave all my funeral matters to third brother to handle completely. I have already asked big aunt to definitely help third brother — only then can I be at peace.
Goodbye forever. In the very end… I still want to call you one last time —
Dad.
Your daughter who is leaving, Wong Qiu Yue – 09/01/26
Second letter
Dad,
Today is 9 January 2026.
Dad… Wong Qiu Yue, from small until big, has never written a letter to you before. This is the last letter I will ever write to you in this lifetime.
When you receive this letter from third brother’s hand, I have most likely already gone to look for Mom.
You won’t have the chance to call my name “Qiu Yue” anymore. Even if you call me Autumn Moon, I won’t answer you anymore. You will never have the chance to hear me stand in front of you and shout “Dad!!” again.
Dad… do you have any love for me? Do you have any love for our mother? Did you ever give all the love you were supposed to give your children… to your children?
I really loved you very much, Dad. You will never, ever hear me call you Dad again.
Dad, do you know? After I went to KL for bone cancer treatment, I came back to Sibu. Every single day I had to face the way your young wife treated me and my younger siblings.
Why can you tolerate her abusing and hitting us every day?
You let her fetch us to school in the morning, but you didn’t even give us money to buy breakfast. We went to school with empty stomachs. Because your wife didn’t allow it.
You let her drive us, but she deliberately drove very slowly and roughly, making my still-not-fully-recovered legs hurt even more. When I couldn’t bear the pain and jumped into the car, she refused to fetch us anymore — told us to walk home ourselves.
Dad, you know how painful my legs really were. In the end, it was always my classmates who pitied us and sent us home. When we reached home we had nothing to eat. She locked the kitchen door. We were not allowed to use anything in the house. Not even allowed to use the toilet.
We had to write notes warning us — at night if we wanted to pee we had to go outside to the corridor toilet.
Our clothes were not allowed to hang on the clothes rack outside. If she saw our clothes on the rack, she would throw them into the rubbish. We could only hang our clothes inside the room on the window grills.
She even swept all the dirt from her room under our beds. She threw our things away with the broom. She secretly dug through our rooms, broke our things, used scissors to cut our clothes, spat saliva inside our shoes…
You know all of this, right? You just chose to keep quiet and watch.
You watched her give us only plain rice to eat. When my little sister wanted to add some meat, she said one word “stinky bitch” — then poured the whole bowl of soup onto my sister’s face.
And you? You just watched quietly. As if nothing happened.
My sister was so scared you would hear her crying on the phone, so she lowered her voice. Your wife snatched the phone, cut the charging cable, then used the scissors to cut — not the cable, but my sister’s arm. Blood was flowing and you still didn’t bring her to the hospital.
Didn’t your heart hurt at all watching that?
Why can you watch your young wife treat us so brutally… and stay completely silent? It was only after a very long time you finally said one sentence “Okay la…” Do you feel any pain seeing how badly we were treated?
Dad… why? Why after you married this woman, did you become like this?
You even taught my sister and second brother to pretend to be filial to grandma — because grandma has a lot of money and gold. Pretend to accompany her a while, buy some things for her to eat, then she will be very happy and later say you children are very filial. After grandma passes away, all those things will belong to you…
Dad… I really don’t understand how you could become like this.
When you heard the doctor say my legs weren’t worth treating anymore, you started abandoning me. Back then, I didn’t even understand what illness could cost so much. You blamed me for getting this disease. I didn’t want to be sick either.
Dad, I was so fortunate to still meet people who truly cared for and loved me. Thank you to my aunts and uncles for the care and joy they brought me. They never rejected us because of your relationship. They often cooked meals for us. When I was discharged, Uncle gave me some money. Dad, Uncle and Auntie were the ones who accompanied us from childhood until we finished primary school before moving away.
Dad, now that I’m gone, you don’t have to teach us to stay away from them anymore. They taught me instead, and even said Auntie was bad—but Auntie helped you so much!
Dad, after I’m gone, I hope you reflect on yourself and change. Treat your other children well. Dad, I’ve left. I’ve asked my third brother to deliver this letter to you. Please read it carefully and understand what you’ve done to make your children drift farther and farther away from you—even your own siblings have distanced themselves. I hope the decisions you’ve made won’t leave you with regrets worth what you’ve done.
For my funeral arrangements, I want my third brother to handle everything. I’ve entrusted Auntie to assist him—that’s the only way I’ll be at peace.
Goodbye. Finally, one last time, I call you Dad.
Dad,
Today is January 9, 2026.
Dad, I, Wong Qiu Yue, have never written a letter to you from childhood to adulthood. This letter is the last one I’ll ever write to you in this life. By the time you receive it from my third brother, I will already have gone to find Mom. You won’t have the chance to call my name “Qiu Yue” anymore, and even if you do, I won’t respond. You’ll never have the chance to hear me call you “Dad” in person again.
Dad, do you have love for me? Do you love our mother? Do you give all your love to us and your children? I truly loved you, my dad, but you’ll never hear me call you “Dad” again.
Dad, do you know? After I went to Kuala Lumpur for treatment for my bone cancer and returned to Sibu, every day I face the abuse from your little wife toward me and my sisters. Why can you tolerate her beating and scolding us? You drive us to school but don’t give us pocket money for breakfast, because your little wife doesn’t allow it. You let her drive us, but she drives recklessly and doesn’t stop properly. My legs were still hurting badly after the treatment, yet she forces us to jump into the car. Later, she refused to pick us up and made us walk home alone. My legs were in so much pain—classmates often pitied us and drove us back. At home, we had no food. She locks the kitchen door, so we can’t use anything. Even the toilet—she doesn’t let us use it. We have to go outside at midnight to the corridor toilet. She won’t let us hang our clothes on the rack. If she sees our clothes there, she throws them in the trash. We’re forced to hang them on the window grilles in our room. She even sweeps the dirt from her room under our beds and throws our belongings away. She reports to you that we don’t clean the rooms. She spits on our beds, secretly damages our things, cuts our clothes with scissors, and spits in our shoes. You know all this, but you choose to stay silent.
You only let us eat plain rice. You watch silently while she says no meat for my sister. When my sister wanted some, she said “shameless” and poured soup on her face. You just watched, pretending nothing happened. My sister was so scared you’d take her phone that she cut the line herself. When she tried to cut the wire, she accidentally cut her arm and it bled, but you didn’t take her to the hospital. Did it not hurt you to see that? Why can you watch your little wife abuse us without saying a word? It took you forever to say “enough.” Do you feel any pain seeing how we’re treated?
Why, Dad? Why did marrying this little wife change you so much? You even taught my sister and second brother to pretend to be filial to Grandma because she has money and gold. Pretend to accompany her shopping, buy her things, and she’ll be happy and say you’re filial. Then when she dies, those things will go to you.
When I heard that recording, my heart broke and I cried—why did you become like this? Just because you married this little wife? Because I have cancer, I can’t work full-time, only part-time to earn pocket money. You make me pay RM100 for electricity, but how can I afford it? Your little wife demands RM250 rent from me. How can you bear it? If I can’t pay, she locks me out or doesn’t let me sleep. My illness can’t heal like this.
Everything today is because of you two. My grandfather worked hard and died unexpectedly trying to pay for my treatment. Don’t you feel guilty? You two even use his pension money to buy lottery tickets and travel, arguing over RM3,000 expenses. How much can my grandfather spend? He gave his life for me—Dad, you can’t face him. Why could your own father die for my treatment, but you and your little wife torment me?
Dad, do you know why I reported to the police? I couldn’t take it anymore. You still told the police to make me pay rent. My sister was heartbroken by what you did. You called Mom to beat my sister until she bled. My sister went to the police too. Both your daughters have reported you to the police—doesn’t your heart ache? Your little wife even says everything is my fault today. Dad, use your heart and love for every child in this family—they are your own flesh and blood. You could get a lawyer to sever ties with your little wife. Don’t let her teach you wrong values.
The day after I came back from the hospital, you and she moved everything out at 6 a.m.—bed, stove, bowls—while telling me to stay quiet. It broke my heart that you went with her to my place to move things. Later you said she told you I said don’t sleep on the bed, sleep on the floor because the bed is hers. Dad, how can I sleep on the floor after coming out of the hospital? You said buy a bed myself, but I can’t work or afford it. You said you can’t do anything for us anymore because everything must follow her.
Dad, I hope you stand firm for your children and do what’s right. Everything I’ve suffered, I’ve accepted my fate now. The doctor says my cancer has spread everywhere. The day you came to the hospital, it wasn’t to care about me—it was to get my ID card for the funeral arrangements. You asked my third brother for it. When he questioned why, you said it’s for my affairs. Am I already dead to you? Do you wish I would die soon? My good dad. Am I not worth saving? Even the doctors are trying hard to save me.
When I heard you and third brother talking about registering for my funeral while I’m still alive, it hurt so much. Dad, I love you so much. Dad, do you and your little wife really wish I would die? She even cursed me to die quickly. You don’t care about my illness, you don’t love us, and you don’t let Auntie and the others help us. You keep us away from them. Dad, we must be grateful! Without Auntie and her friends in Sarawak, An Di wouldn’t have stayed with me for two whole years, taking me to the hospital every day, caring for me meticulously. She has no blood relation to us but treated me better than family. Without Auntie, I wouldn’t have made it.
Source : Sarawak Viral
STEPMOM AND DAD FACES
Source : Sarawak Viral
Thank you for your attention, everyone. By the time everyone learns of this, my older sister has already passed away. It cannot be said that she left in peace, but at the very least, she is no longer suffering. We had previously presented this will to our father, but [he refused to accept it], so it is highly likely he never read my sister’s final words.
She was a good sister. Her final wish was that, even if her methods may seem shameful, she did not want her younger siblings to endure the same suffering she went through. Therefore, we only wish to carry out what she entrusted to us.
It’s not that she never reported to the police, but after reporting, the police instead asked which law could be referenced to investigate. In the end, they only summoned our father to the police station to give him a few words of reprimand.
After that, they intensified their attacks against my sister. This included moving gas cylinders at 6 a.m., removing her bed, forcing her to sleep on the floor, and on the day of Dongzhi (Winter Solstice), going to my sister’s residence (by then, she had moved to another house to avoid them) and pouring the breakfast she had prepared onto the floor.
My sister did not have much longer to live—why did she have to be treated like this?
If reporting to the police had been useful, my sister would not have entrusted us, before her passing, to make her suffering and her letter known to the public. In the pain of her illness, my sister could not see even a glimmer of hope.
Source : Sarawak Viral
