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My twin sister, Ruby Stone, and I split up after our parents' divorce. She stays with Mom, while I went with Dad. Since the divorce, he's sunk into a deep depression, gambling away every penny we have. We move into a dark, damp apartment, and life becomes an endless struggle. Every day, I go to school and quietly work a part-time job to keep us afloat. Then, out of nowhere, Ruby—whom I haven't heard from in forever—sends me a link to a live stream. "Check this out, Aria. There's a surprise waiting for you." I click it, and my jaw drops. I'm the one topping the trending live streams. The screen splits in two. On one side, I sit in my dingy apartment, hunched over homework under the dim light. On the other side, Mom and Dad cuddle with Ruby on the fancy couch of their sprawling villa. The comments came pouring in. "Let's see what happens when twins are raised on opposite sides of fortune all the way to 18." "Aria still doesn't know, right? Her parents never divorced. They're loaded and perfectly happy. Ruby's life has been like a dream too." "Poor Aria. She's always starving and never has anything decent to wear. Isn't that basically abuse?" "She's the more sensible one, so her parents decided to raise her poorly."

After my roommate Cecelia Turner stepped out, the tablet she had left on the table suddenly lit up. I glanced at it absentmindedly and saw the group chat name—Free Riders Club. 'Celebrating this month's huge payday!' Several cash drops flooded the chat in quick succession. My interest was piqued. So, I tapped in to take a look. Besides Cecelia, the group included our landlord and the other two roommates. 'Thanks, Cece! We couldn't have saved up so much money if you hadn't come up with the idea of overcharging Ziegler on the rent!' 'Exactly! Honestly, having Madison as a free live-in maid means we even save on housekeeping and takeout!' The chat was filled with laughter as everyone chimed in to thank me for my "free services." Although they were thanking me, I was the only one who wasn't included in that group chat.

My wife, Nova Quill, has grown addicted to the thrill and the fresh excitement of immersive horror games. She spends almost all of her time in the gaming room fighting with the game's boss every day. Sometimes, she even screams things like, "No!" and "Come at me if you dare!". Every time she's done playing, she'll slump on the couch with flushed cheeks, looking very exhausted. But Nova has crossed a line by skipping out on my birthday banquet just so she can fight the boss. Unable to take it anymore, I bring up divorce in front of her. Nova thinks I'm just making a molehill out of a tiny thing. "I'm helping you test out a project that your company has invested in! You should be elated that the game is super fun!" I just sneer at her in return. "Who knows if you love the game or the boss himself? Anyway, I'm definitely divorcing you, no questions asked!"

To pay off my student loans, I started doing spicy streams online. I never thought I'd actually blow up. Every night, my audience floods the chat, fawning over my face and my body. I love the attention, and I work hard to give them what they want. Until I was dropped into a horror game. The first thing I saw when I opened my eyes was a rotting corpse. And for some reason, my livestream was still running. When the game’s Boss told us all to pick a weapon to die by. The other players all chose to die of old age, or peacefully in their sleep like a baby. I turned my phone to face the boss. "My fans think you're hot," I stammered. "They want me to be killed by... well, by the weapon between your legs. They said 'deeply.' Is that... an option?" The other players whispered among themselves. “This woman must have a death wish.” “Just watch. The Boss is about to tear her to shreds.” But no one expected the Boss to blush.

"Honey, the soles of my shoes are made of sheepskin. I can't get them wet, so come pick me up right away." Just as I send a WhatsApp message to my wife, Cora Harden, a barrage of floating comments explodes in front of me in the downpour. "I really can't stand a high-maintenance second male lead like Allen Brandt. Cora, the female lead, is a billionaire CEO, and yet she lets him boss her around like a lapdog." "The male lead has already joined the company. Once Cora sees how sweet and thoughtful he is, she's dumping that loser Allen for good." "This is hilarious. After the divorce, Allen can't do anything, so he'll end up as some cheap thirst-trap live streamer." Staring at the screen of venomous insults, I clench my fists in anger. Just then, Cora arrives with an umbrella, half of her bespoke dress soaked from the rain. Noticing my whitened knuckles, she pauses for a moment, then timidly tugs at my sleeve. "Sorry, darling. If I had driven any faster, I would have been speeding."

Divorce Discord is a tangled love affair between Charles Rogers and Vivian Harry. The pair were undergraduates of Yankee University. Their enjoinment into marital bloc ignited the fire of regrettable irregularities and frustrations accompanying a wrong choice of mate, abscond, impetuosity and excommunication, fray and frazzle, insubordination, elopement, divorce discord, re-betrothal and suicide…