Maikling Kwento at Nobelang Emotional Realism

When my roommate learned that getting pregnant in university came with special treatment, she brazenly posted on the campus forum, openly recruiting a "baby daddy." [Requirements: over 5'11", eight-pack abs, handsome, assets in the millions, no bad habits.] Afraid she would ruin her life on a moment of reckless impulse, I snatched her phone, deleted the post, and gave her a serious rundown on the risks and consequences of early pregnancy while still studying. After much deliberation, she was finally persuaded. But a month later, a classmate struck it rich by getting pregnant. She not only married into a wealthy family, but also received a million-dollar childbirth bonus from her in-laws. My roommate was driven mad with jealousy. She stormed into the dorm, shrieking at me at the top of her lungs. "If it weren't for you, I'd be a rich wife by now! You owe me my life!" As she screamed, she stabbed me over and over, venting her rage until I was dead. When I opened my eyes again, I was back to the day she first posted on the forum, brazenly searching for a baby daddy.

My son spiked a sudden high fever, scorching like a flame under my touch. I frantically dialed 911 for help, but the dispatcher on the line kept repeating questions, dragging it out. By the time the ambulance siren finally wailed in the distance, my son had already grown cold and still in my arms. Less than a year later, my husband and I split up amid endless grief and finger-pointing. I dragged on like an empty shell until one day I got an e-invite to his wedding. The moment I clicked the voice message, my blood ran cold. The bride's voice echoed exactly like that sluggish dispatcher from back then. In a breakdown, I bolted out of the house and got caught in the path of a speeding subway train, plunging me into darkness. When I opened my eyes again, my son's cries pierced the air from the next room, his forehead blazing hot against my palm. My husband thrust the phone toward me. "Quick, call 911! I'll grab a cold compress." My hands trembled as I dialed, and a chillingly familiar voice answered, "Hello, 911 emergency services."

The moment my roommate walked in, she used my locker. She claimed to have too many things and nowhere else to put them. I rolled my eyes. Why should I let her get her way? I was not her parent. She was no princess, but she acted like one. I was ready to argue, but she tossed 200,000 dollars at me. “At your service, Your Highness!”

The smoothie shop was a whirlwind of activity during the lunch rush when a customer's call shattered my focus. "Is this the manager?" a sharp voice demanded. "I ordered a smoothie with just a touch of sugar. Why is it so sweet?" I checked her order and explained calmly, "Miss, Chocolate Bliss has a naturally sweet base." Not long after, she called again. "I asked for five ice cubes. Why are there only four?" Swamped and barely keeping up, I apologized and moved on. Before I could catch my breath, the phone rang once more. "I requested the guy in the black shirt to deliver my order. Why did a girl show up?" Suppressing my irritation, I clarified, "Miss, we handle the drinks; deliveries are managed by couriers." Finally, the calls stopped. But as the rush subsided, the headquarters called, telling me that a customer had lodged a complaint, accusing me of seducing her boyfriend.

On the day before New Year's Eve, I didn't shut the window all the way, and my little sister sneezed. My parents kicked me out and ordered me to collect firewood in the dark. Inside, the family crowded around her, laughing as they handed her presents. I didn't cry or make a scene. Instead, I slung the basket onto my back before heading into the mountains through the wind and snow. I didn't find any firewood. I found a man instead. His leg was wedged in a crack between rocks, bloody enough to scare me. When he saw me, he said in a hoarse voice, "Get me out of here, girl. I can give you whatever you want." I looked up at him, my eyes finally focusing. "Really? Then I want you to be my dad."

In my previous life, my younger sister, Amy Lockwood, was sexually assaulted. When I wanted to file a police report, she adamantly refused to let me do so. She even stroked her belly lovingly and said something that blew my mind. "H-He was drunk. He didn't mean to do it. What if his life gets ruined because you reported him to the police? You shouldn't be so heartless!" Later on, Amy poisoned my food and nearly killed me just so she could run off with her assailant. However, my mother kept telling me not to hold it against her. This time around, I decide to be as heartless as I can possibly be.

Right before the SAT, our scatterbrained airheaded group favourite, the school belle, Priscilla Ashford, volunteers herself to safeguard everyone's admission tickets. My firm refusal of her offer earns me the displeasure of my childhood sweetheart, Justin Kylemark. "You're picking on her again," he says. I ignore his rebuke. On the exam day itself, I personally double-checked every single admission ticket to make sure nothing could go wrong. However, the moment Priscilla gets hers from me, she burst into tears, claiming that I lost her ticket. Justin snatched my admission ticket and tore it to shreds. I run until my legs give out, barely managing to get it reissued before the bus leaves. However, my classmates all kicked me off the bus together. "You lost Priscilla's admission ticket. Do you think you deserve to sit for the exam?" They carry with them the exam prediction I had prepared for them. Thanks to that, they each achieve excellent scores. I have no choice but to repeat the year and become the top scorer. By then, Justin and my other classmates, who are already in prestigious universities and colleges, all return together. They produce fake evidence, accusing me of cheating in the exam. Unable to defend myself, a candidate who flunked the exam poured gasoline on me and set me on fire. When I open my eyes once more, I see myself handing the admission tickets over to Priscilla… except for my own.

When my wife brought her lover home for the fifth time, I decided enough was enough. I said nothing, not a word of complaint or protest. Instead, I superglued the windows shut and locked the bedroom door from the outside. From the bedroom came the muffled sounds of her little escapade, breathless and feverish, carrying through the walls like a shameful melody no one asked to hear. Calmly, I sat in the living room, picked up the phone, and called my mother-in-law. "Jessie," I said, putting on my best tone of urgency, "it's bad—real bad! Your daughter's locked herself in the bedroom and says she's gonna end it all!"

I donated 45 million to the city's best kindergarten, but my daughter failed the enrollment interview. She was a polymath. Furious, I demanded an explanation from admissions. She hurled an assessment file at my face. "Your daughter's brilliant, but you're the exact opposite! You're dead last among the parents!" She continued, "The others have tech domes! You're nothing but a regular Ivy League graduate! Your degree's worth about as much as toilet paper!" The other teachers laughed as well. "If we admit her daughter, it's going to look bad on the other kids. She can't take that responsibility." "Yeah, I can't believe she's demanding an explanation from Ms. Johnson. Her husband is the kindergarten's biggest stakeholder. He can make sure her daughter has nowhere to go." The admission teacher shoved me away. With disdain in her eyes, she said, "Out of my sight if you know what's good for you. My husband is picking me up in his Rolls-Royce. His car plate alone is worth more than your life! It's lucky 777! Only one in Georgeport!" Three sevens? That was my husband's car. I laughed mirthlessly and texted my husband. "I had no idea you had another wife behind me."

My roommate bought an antique bronze censer online. She burned incense day and night, praying to be with a wealthy boyfriend. I thought it was silly, until her face began to look like mine. Soon, she became the admired heiress, while I was left drowning in debts she had deliberately racked up. I begged her for my identity back, and she pretended to agree. However, she tricked me into giving her my bank account password and pushed me off a rooftop. I learned at that moment that the censer was a cursed relic that grants wishes by draining the life and luck of another. She could take everything from me once my life was ruined, but death was not the end for me. I woke up on the day she first got the cursed censer. The truth was every wish comes with a price, and I was going to make sure she pays.

I had just won the Hawthorne Scientific Laureate on the international stage when my father called me back home. "Bring the betrothal gifts to the Hayes family. That childhood engagement should finally be fulfilled." Afraid of getting stuck in traffic, I took my modified motorcycle, carried the national heritage porcelain obtained through generations of the Keane family's military merits, and headed toward their house. Just as I arrived at the community gate, a Porsche suddenly cut across the lane, nearly knocking me over. A heavily made-up woman, Zoey Mercer, stepped out of the car, raised one sharp high heel, and kicked the top box off my motorcycle. "You rode this junk motorcycle yet dared block my way? If you dent my car, your whole family won't be able to afford the compensation!" My heart sank. I quickly opened the case, only to see the entire box of celadon porcelain shattered. "So you’re just some delivery guy. Think this pile of trash is worth even one of my shoes? "You even know whose neighborhood this is? It belongs to Kingshore's Hayes family! My best friend’s family developed this place! Believe it or not, I can have you thrown out right now!" Right then, my fiancee, Lauren Hayes, called me. "Where are you? My friend just messaged me saying there’s a delivery guy causing trouble at the entrance."

My boyfriend, Dallas Clarke, had a pick-me girl constantly hanging around him named Olivia Phillips. She knew perfectly well that I had diabetes and could not eat high-sugar foods. Yet, during our hiking trip, she still managed to trick me into eating a high-sugar energy bar, which caused my blood sugar to spike. When I pulled out my insulin pen to inject myself, I discovered with horror that my medication had been replaced with saline solution. Seeing me collapsed on the ground, dry heaving uncontrollably, Olivia smirked in disdain. "You are always so dramatic. It's just sugar, you don't need to act like you're dying. That's why I told Dallas to switch your meds, because you needed to toughen up and build some stamina." I looked toward Dallas, my breathing already becoming labored. "Dallas, give me my medication. If I don't inject insulin soon, I'm going to die..." Dallas frowned slightly. "Don't you think you're being a little overdramatic? I've never heard of anyone dying from a bit of sugar. Olivia's right... You're such an attention seeker. We barely get together as a group, and here you are causing a scene." My heart sank, and I called Dad immediately. "Dad, I'm getting bullied, and I might die! Are you going to do something about it or not?"

It's my first day undercover at my future husband's dessert shop, and chaos walks in with fake lashes and two-inch nails. "I want an ice cream. Heated." I paused. "Just checking... You want your ice cream hot?" She gave me a look like I'd failed kindergarten. "Yes. Hot ice cream. Are you slow?" Deep breath. Zen mode. Customer-first service smile. "I'm sorry, ma'am. Ice cream has to stay frozen, or it just turns into—well... milk. If you want something warm, we have hot tea or coffee." "I'm pregnant!" she screeched. "Pregnant women crave weird things! Plus, my doctor said I can't eat anything cold! Are you trying to kill my baby and me? Is that what this is?!" People started turning their heads. Fantastic. A whole audience. I kept my voice low. "Ma'am, I can refund you." She suddenly smacked the counter, knocking the scanner sideways. Her nails shot past my face like tiny knives. "What kind of attitude is that?! A pathetic cashier talking back to me? I'll call my husband and get you fired!" Then, she leaned in like she was about to reveal a royal bloodline. "Guess what? I'm the boss's wife." I blinked. If that was true, I really needed to stop thinking about helping my boyfriend to open 3,000 franchise stores.

In a bid to assess rare resources, our expedition team ventures into an uninhabited desert, only to be suddenly faced with a heat wave that reaches 158 degrees Fahrenheit. Becoming so dehydrated that I'm close to fainting, I hurriedly open my backpack to dig out the electrolyte drink I prepared beforehand. The bottle is already about to touch my lips when I realize it's half filled with urine. I turn my head, just in time to see my husband's childhood sweetheart guzzling the electrolyte drink. Just as I'm about to lose my temper, my husband yanks on my sleeve. "Don't be mad. I was the one who gave your electrolyte drink to Maddy because she's nearly dehydrated. In the meantime, you'd better just make do and drink this, okay?" By then, black spots are dancing in my vision. Squeezing the bottle of urine, I hiss through gritted teeth, "I'm already dehydrated, but instead of letting me rehydrate quickly, you're telling me to drink this. Are you trying to kill me?" Immediately, a displeased look crosses his face. "Stop talking nonsense. Maddy isn't like you and doesn't train her body every day. She absolutely can't handle such high temperatures. Isn't it only right that she gets the electrolyte drink? "Besides, urine can rehydrate you, too. Why are you still making a fuss at this point?" Realizing that he cannot be reasoned with, I decide to send out a distress signal and seek help before I fully lose consciousness. "Severely dehydrated and near death. Expedition operations suspended. Immediate rescue required. Also reporting the presence of a robber within the team—please contact authorities as soon as possible."

On the day of the United Nations meeting, I noticed a new electronic watch on my wife’s wrist. She said it was a gift from her first love to monitor her health. It was a veiled jab, which implied I was not as thoughtful or caring as an outsider. Something felt off, so during her lunch break I secretly checked, and found a bugging device. I reported it immediately, using my official title to cover her wrongdoing. Her first love, however, was now wanted by the authorities. While fleeing, he tragically died in a car accident. My wife said coldly that it served him right, yet treated me with even more care and attention. However, she deliberately leaked my translation files at work, which resulted in me being accused of espionage and taken in for investigation. “Miles, that bug was clearly planted by you. You were jealous of Ash and wanted him dead!” “I truly regret giving up Ash to marry someone as malicious as you. You should go to hell and atone for him!” When I opened my eyes again, I was back there once again on the day her first love gave her that watch. I did not interfere this time. I simply signed my name on the divorce papers.

I was the real daughter—unloved, unwanted, and cast aside. The design draft I poured my heart into was stolen by my second brother and gifted to the fake daughter. Then he accused me of being a plagiarist. My father, the richest man in the city, had me blacklisted from the entire industry. The fake daughter pretended to apologize, then pushed me off a cliff. When I woke up, nearly all my bones had been shattered. I called my fiancé, the captain of the rescue team, but he was cradling the fake daughter's sprained ankle. He scoffed, "Oh, you had an accident too? Want me to save you? Why don't you just die already?" My body grew colder under the crushing pain. My eldest brother, the forensic pathologist, cut open my rotting corpse while grumbling that he was late for the fake daughter's birthday. Yet when they finally saw me again, they all cried, begging for my forgiveness.

After working overtime every day for a month, I finally completed an important code that could save my company. Five minutes into my break, my team leader, Fiona Smith, suddenly hit me in the head with her file. “Because you spent so much time in the office, our electricity bill this month has increased by 15 kWh! Do you see this office as a free air-conditioning supplier?” I was about to defend myself when she angrily pointed at my cell phone and tablet on my desk. “You’re charging your devices here? You should charge them at home! Aren’t you aware of the company’s current condition?” I could no longer hold back my anger. “Fiona, I’ve been working overtime. I’m not here doing nothing!” “Can’t you do overtime at home instead? For a fresh graduate, you sure know how to exploit the company’s resources. Who knows what other despicable things you might be capable of doing in the future?!” Fiona yelled. I stared at her twisted expression and suddenly chuckled. If only my parents had seen me working so hard over such a trivial matter. They would have immediately asked me to quit and work in their company instead. I grabbed the flash drive with the important code and called my secretary. “Jane, I’d like to purchase Galaxy Corporation, and I want it to be the best in the industry.”

The night my parents were kidnapped, my brother—who happened to be a police officer—chose to go bungee jumping with the fake heiress. I didn't stop him. Instead, I called the police and began preparing the ransom. In my previous life, my brother had forgone the outing to rescue our parents. As a result, the rope snapped during her jump, sending her plummeting into the abyss. Her body was never recovered. He never spoke a word about it afterward. On my birthday, he drugged me and dragged me to that very cliff. "You orchestrated the kidnapping! You'd go this far for their attention? You're nothing but a monster! Lillian is dead. You don't deserve to live either!" When I opened my eyes again, I found myself back on the night my parents were kidnapped. This time, my brother didn't rush to their rescue. Instead, he ran to the fake heiress. But in the end, he regretted it so much that he nearly lost his mind.

On the night before our wedding, my fiancée's ex-boyfriend lost in three rounds of Truth or Dare. Round One was Truth. He had to confess the most intimate thing he'd ever done with the opposite sex. Rob Ross shot me a wink. "That scar on Dorothy's thigh? I accidentally bit her there." Round Two was Truth again. He had to reveal a secret no one else in the room knew. He blushed a little. "When Dorothy was fast asleep, I took care of her physical needs for her." Round Three was Dare. He had to kiss a lady in the room for a full ten seconds. Without hesitation, he turned and kissed my fiancée, Dorothy Bryant. Dorothy froze for a moment, then held the back of his head and kissed him back. As the room watched in shock, she pulled Rob behind a screen, and they proceeded to entwine passionately, oblivious to the stares. The entire room fell into a stunned, suffocating silence. Every pair of eyes swiveled toward me. They all braced for an explosive outburst. But when the pair finally emerged from behind the screen, still lost in each other, I was the first to break the tension by clapping enthusiastically. "Such being the case, why not make him the groom tomorrow?"

I drive a Rolls-Royce to the venue where my high school reunion is held. When my former classmates ask me how much the Rolls-Royce costs, I tell them that it belongs to the company. They begin telling everyone behind my back that I work as a company driver, and that I'm not living a good life at the moment. Then again, the car does belong to the company. It's just that the company is mine.