短編Emotional Realism のストーリーと小説

My daughter, Bessie Garcia, had very little self-discipline. The only reason she studied at all was that I constantly pushed her. Three months before the SATs, I could not resist sending a question to myself ten years into the future. “Did Bessie get into an Ivy League school? What kind of job does she have now? Please tell me the last three years of hard work were worth it! How far have Meera and I gotten on our trip around the world? Did we have a second child?” A hopeful smile spread across my face. Then, I saw the man on the other side of the screen. His skin was sallow. He was so thin that he was almost unrecognizable. “An Ivy League school? After graduation, she publicly accused you of controlling and emotionally abusing her for more than ten years. The entire internet branded you a sick, controlling father. Meera divorced you and went on to have a child with her first love. As for you… years of staying up late, putting your life on hold, and constantly supervising Bessie’s studies left you with terminal pancreatic cancer. Your daughter and ex-wife have cut you out of their lives completely. You have only one month left to live.” I was stunned. Just then, Bessie’s voice sounded from her room as she talked to someone online. “My dad? He’s a pathetic control freak. His wife doesn’t love him, so he takes it out on me by trying to control my life. The more he forces me to study, the worse I’ll bomb the exams! Watching him lose his mind in rage is the only satisfaction I get. Once the SATs are over, I’m moving out and cutting him out of my life for good!” Tears splashed against the back of my hand. A moment later, I withdrew her from every SATs prep course and sent her a text. [You don’t have to attend those tutoring classes anymore. From now on, I won’t ask anything of you. It’s your life, so you should get to decide how to live it.]

After being married to Caden Lancaster for seven years, I find a diamond ear stud that doesn't belong to me in his suit pocket for the first time. What's more, I haven't worn jewelry in a long time. I calmly place the stud on the dining table in the living room and wait for Caden to come back with our son, Felix Lancaster. As soon as Felix walks in, he spots the sparkling stud and says with disdain, "Mom, you're wasting money again." I hold back the urge to hit him. I ignore him and shift my gaze to Caden, who is standing behind him. "Explain yourself. Whose earring is this?" I say coolly. Caden doesn't speak. He stands there as if he is frozen in place. His handsome features stiffen. Seeing the scene, Felix suddenly bursts into laughter. "Dad, did you find me a new mom? That's great!" My six-year-old son imitates the mocking tone he heard from short videos and shouts at me, "Having a plain Jane mom like you is so embarrassing! Get out of my house! This looks like Ms. Sulvan's earring. That's great! I want her to be my mom. She's pretty, gentle, and she really likes Dad." Every word cuts deeply into my heart. Upon hearing this, Caden loosens his clenched fist. He takes two shoehorns from the cabinet behind him and smacks Felix on the head. He hands both of them to me and asks in a low, grim voice, "Which one do you want, honey? The wider one or the thinner one?"

In my previous life, I am reunited with the Duran family. To protect the adopted girl, my brother, Adrian Duran, frames me for causing her illness to flare up. My parents believe him and throw me out of the house. Not long afterward, I die from illness on the streets. When I open my eyes again, I am back on the day I am brought back to the Duran residence. Adrian stands before our parents and points at me. "Mom, Dad, she's not my sister." The Durans look at me with disappointment before turning around and leaving. I stand there silently and do not take out the crystal pendant that can prove my identity. Instead, I quietly walk back to the orphanage. 20 years later, I become one of the country's leading cardiologists. The man sitting across from me hands over a medical file and speaks in a trembling voice. "Doctor, please... please save my sister." I pause when I see the name. My gaze settles on his worn and exhausted face. After staring at him for a long moment, I finally look up and say, "I won't be taking this patient."

"I'm sorry, but this flight is overbooked. We're going to compensate you twenty dollars. Please deplane immediately." The head flight attendant had my suitcase in a death grip. Her tone wasn't a request—it was an order. I gave her a cold look, then turned my gaze to the man beside us, who had just been escorted onto the plane, draped in designer labels. "Why does he get to board after showing up late, while I—who paid full price—am being forced off?" She let out a mocking laugh and lowered her voice to taunt me. "Because he's the son of a top-tier medical conglomerate in Scallow City. He's rushing there to beg an elusive miracle doctor—the famous Phantom Surgeon—to save his life. "No matter how urgent your business is, can it really compare to a human life? If you delay Mr. Stafford, ten lives couldn't pay for it. Now get off." Several security guards dragged me off the plane by force as I watched the cabin doors close. I laughed in sheer disbelief. The "Mr. Stafford" she was talking about was William Stafford, and he was terminally ill. What she didn't know was that I was the very "Phantom Surgeon" his entire family had been on their knees begging for three months—pleading with me to fly to Scallow City and perform his surgery today. Since they threw me off the plane, I won't be doing that operation. As for William, he can go ahead and wait for death.

A week after giving birth, I stumbled across a post online. [My daughter married way out of her league. How do I make her divorce him?] The poster claimed to be a mother. According to her, the older daughter was lazy, selfish, and completely unworthy of such an amazing family. So she planned to force the older daughter to get divorced, then marry her sweet, obedient younger daughter into the same family instead. The comments blew up instantly. [I've seen favoritism, but this is actually insane.] [Was the older daughter adopted or something? What kind of mom schemes against her own kid?] [So you're basically passing one rich husband around between sisters? Girl, what the hell.] Then, buried under all the insults, one comment appeared. Cold. Sharp. [A woman who just gave birth is mentally wrecked already. Send her some fake cheating pics and let paranoia do the rest. One meltdown and that marriage is cooked.] The poster replied almost instantly. [Thank you @LindaKnowsBest!! I'm doing it right now.] A second later, my phone buzzed. Mom. [Kyla, look at this. Is Bruce cheating on you?]

During our New Year’s Eve dinner, I told my family that my company was not giving out year-end bonuses. The table went silent. Even the TV host counting down to midnight suddenly sounded grating. My husband and daughter slammed the table in frustration. “No year-end bonus?! How are we supposed to pay the mortgage and the car loan? I didn’t marry you so you could live off me!” “Other moms either buy designer bags or send money. You’re the most useless one. You can’t even bring home a $100,000 bonus.” My in-laws sat there with dark looks on their faces and said nothing. I looked at their self-righteous faces and felt a lump in my throat. All these years, every expense in this family was paid with the money I earned from late nights, overtime, and project commissions. But all they could see was the $100,000 bonus I did not bring home. “If you can’t make any money, then get out!” My husband grabbed my arm and pushed me toward the door. My daughter was not satisfied and kicked me on the lower back. I did not turn around. I took out my phone and booked the presidential suite at a downtown five-star hotel. My bank account had just received a $1 million dividend payout. It was true that I did not get a year-end bonus. But I got promoted to management. From this day onward, I would receive $1 million in dividends every year.

An emergency has just occurred at the hotel. William Davis, the mayor's son, suffers from cardiac arrest in the hotel. Unfortunately, there's nothing the doctor in his team can do about it. I happen to be vacationing nearby, so I quickly rush toward the scene. As soon as I rush into the lobby, the security guards quickly stop me. "A life is being saved at the moment. Unauthorized personnel aren't allowed to enter." I'm about to dig out my work badge when Lydia Sharpe, the intern tagging along, suddenly covers her mouth and shouts daintily, "Don't let her in! There's a scalpel and a syringe of anesthetics in her bag!" Everyone is shocked by Lydia's revelation. The security guards instantly have me surrounded while wearing vigilant looks. Sweat starts rolling down my face out of anxiety. "I'm the head of the cardiothoracic surgery department of Central City Hospital! I've heard about the patient's condition! He must undergo a thoracotomy right away!" The next thing I know, Lydia has snatched my bag out of my hands. Things such as the sterilized gloves, defibrillator, as well as life-saving medication are scattered all over the floor. Lydia steps on the one and only life-saving pill instantly. "I just heard you claiming that it's best if the mayor's son dies right away! Why are you still pretending to be a savior? "Hurry up and arrest her! I suspect she has something to do with the ongoing case! She's definitely a murderer!" The person in charge's expression shifts drastically. Soon, he pins me on the wall. "Detain her and inform the security department right away! This woman is suspected of being involved in a murder!" As I stare at Lydia, I can't help but tremble violently. Right now, I'm the only one in the entire city who can perform the surgery on William. Unfortunately, he can only last for another half an hour in his current condition.

When my sister, Cindy Saddler, and I perform our gymnastics routine, we both slip up. My spine snaps as I hit the ground. The pain makes my face go completely pale, and my life is hanging by a thread. But my mother and spotter, Cordelia Saddler, pushes me away in annoyance. "This isn't the time for you to fight with your sister for my attention. She's twisted her ankle! Go die if you want to die. Don't bother me!" Later, I die due to complications in the hospital, as she wishes. But after she finds out I'm dead, she goes crazy.

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.

My wife and I slept in separate beds for over three years. Then on our wedding anniversary, she suddenly tried to win me over. She climbed into my bed and pulled out all the stops, trying to get me to sleep with her. I stayed calm and collected. When our son started crying, I used it as an excuse to escape to his room, where I stayed all night. Vivian Hartley spent the entire night knocking on the door. The next morning, she acted sweet and gentle, graciously making me breakfast as if nothing had happened. She even tried to hand over her salary card. When my mother-in-law heard about this, she exploded at her daughter. "You pathetic fool! People need some self-respect! If you can't stand up for yourself, just get a divorce already!" Yet Vivian claimed her feelings for me ran so deep that the heavens themselves could vouch for her sincerity. She even defied her own mother. Our relatives and friends looked at us with envy. But my son and I continued to give her the cold shoulder. Finally, Vivian turned to social media for help. "Three years ago, I was busy with work. My husband and I had completely different schedules. I was afraid it would affect my performance at work, so I suggested we sleep in separate rooms. "Now our child is older, and I've swallowed my pride to try to fix things, but my husband won't even touch me." Someone in the comments gave her some advice: install hidden cameras around the house. "We can't just take your word for it. Record everything so we can see what's really going on. Plus, if things actually end in divorce, at least you'll have built up your social media following. It won't be a total loss." Vivian had no idea I was watching from among her followers.

My mom, Gina Lowry, uses the six million dollars from selling our family hotel to buy my cousin, Harry Sullivan, a villa. The next day, my fiancé of five years, Charles Gomez, dumps me. "Vivian, this is the end for us," Charles says, sitting in the café of a five-star hotel. His tone is so matter-of-fact that it sounds as if he's merely discussing a business deal. The engagement ring in my hand suddenly feels burning hot. I ask, "Why? Our wedding is next month." He stirs his coffee casually and replies, "Your family is known for favoring sons above all else. I looked into it. Your parents sold off the family business and gave all the assets to your cousin, Harry." A chill runs through my whole body as I argue, "That was my parents' decision. It has nothing to do with me!" "Does it really have nothing to do with you?" Charles looks up, his gaze sharp. "You're a daughter of the Sullivan family. In the future, you'll have to keep supporting your useless cousin endlessly. My family won't have any part in such an unreasonable practice. It's simply too embarrassing." In a trembling voice, I plead, "Charles, we've been together for five years. Is what we have less than these worldly considerations?" He lets out a light scoff. "What we have? Vivian, you're 28. How are you still this naive? In our circle, marriage is never just about two people." He stands up and adjusts the cuff of his custom suit. "I hope you find someone more suitable for you." I watch his resolute back as he walks away. Biting my lip hard, I refuse to let the tears fall. My phone chimes as a message from my mom comes in. In the photo, Harry is standing in front of a luxury villa with his arm around the influencer girlfriend he's been dating for three months. He is smiling smugly, like he's at the top of the world. Mom sounds overjoyed in her voice message. "Vivian, look how grand Harry's new home is! Now, he won't have to worry about his marital home when he gets married!" I stare at the photo and laugh through my tears. The moment I leave the family group chat and block all my relatives, my fingertips feel ice-cold. I sneer inwardly, "Since a daughter can never compare to a son in your hearts, then from now on, that precious nephew of yours will be your only family. When he drives you out of the villa bought with your entire savings, I wonder if you'll remember the daughter you abandoned today."

When I'm trying to save a female patient's life, I use a pair of scissors to cut open her bra. But my fiancee, Scarlett Baxter, uploads a video of me pressing on the patient's chest to the Internet. "I know you're saving the patient's life, but isn't protecting the patient's privacy important as well? Besides, you keep touching her chest! This makes me feel very uncomfortable!" This incident goes viral on the Internet. The hospital I work at chooses to de-escalate this matter by demoting me and deducting my annual bonus. On top of that, I also receive a huge penalty for my actions. I did everything I could to save that patient's life, and yet everyone decided to paint me as a molester. Fine. I might as well not do anything, then. I'm not going to save anyone now. This time, the entire hospital falls into chaos.

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."

My cafe's sales have doubled recently. On the day before the celebration party, my younger brother, Ian Kingston, comes looking for me. "Vivian, I'm going to marry Louisa soon. We should dissolve our business partnership." He adds, "Louisa mentioned that she and I work better together as husband and wife. She intends to open a cafe with me so that we can spend the rest of our lives together. "Vivian, you'll marry into another family someday. This cafe is a business under the Kingston family, so you should withdraw from the partnership right away." Louisa Nott has yet to become Ian's wife, but she is already thinking of taking over the Kingstons' assets? I post an announcement on my family group chat right away. "My own brother decides to dissolve our business partnership because of his girlfriend, so I shall be opening a branch of my own. When the time comes, everyone here is welcome to my cafe to sample my food. It'll be completely free of charge!"

The day I was awarded the highest service medal, I got a call that my grandfather had died. My superiors approved emergency leave, and I rushed straight back to the family estate without stopping. The moment I reached the hillside cemetery behind the house, what I saw snapped something inside me. Our family burial ground had been completely leveled. My parents' graves had been dug open. Their urns had been turned into flower pot bases, with dark-red roses planted right on top of them. My grandfather's coffin had been split apart. His body was left exposed in the dirt, already starting to rot. And my younger brother, Jerry Horton, who was on the autism spectrum, was being ordered around like a laborer by my husband's assistant, Digby Wolfe, hauling construction materials back and forth. I lost it. I grabbed Digby and slammed him into the ground with a hard shoulder throw. "You touched my family's graves and made my brother do manual labor. Are you trying to get buried here with them?" Digby coughed up blood as he struggled to his feet, sneering at me. "This was Mr. Gray's decision. He said your family plot is in a good location, with plenty of space. It's perfect for building a golf course for the future Mrs. Gray. In Joule, Mr. Gray is the law." His tone was icy. "And who do you think you are?" I swallowed my rage and called Marshall Gray. "I hear you run Joule," I said. "Well, I'm about to change that."

My husband, Zeke Larson, rushed to the police station at night because his childhood sweetheart, Snow Lowell, had run over my father-in-law and killed him. Snow clutched Zeke’s jacket and trembled in fear. “Zeke, I’m so scared. I didn’t mean to kill anyone.” Zeke pulled her into his arms at once and glared at me like he wanted to kill me. “You were in the car too. Why didn’t you stop her?” I almost laughed. He was the one who insisted that Snow drive. He said she had just gotten her license and needed more practice, so he pushed her to take his car and give me a ride. “Forget it. He’s already dead. There’s no point arguing now. “We’ll just say your dad ran into the road without looking, and that’s how Snow hit him. “We can settle this privately. Snow has a performance in Vienne next month. She can’t have a stain on her record.” I froze for a moment. When he repeated himself, I finally realized that he thought the person who died was my father. I looked at Zeke and saw how natural it all seemed to him. I could not help but laugh. “This is not a private settlement I have the right to be part of.”

Three years after our divorce, I ran into Cole Allen again on the streets of Atlantica. I was there as a volunteer, handing out boxes of cold medicine, and he had become a homeless man, struggling to survive. It was ironic because our divorce had all started because of a box of cold medicine. “Two times a day. Two pills each time.” I handed the medicine to him, my tone calm, like I was speaking to a stranger. However, Cole’s eyes slowly turned red. “Sadie, you still hate me.” I didn’t look up. I kept passing out boxes of medicine to the people in line. “This box of medicine only costs one dollar. It’s very cheap, yet you forced me to sell my blood for money. Cole, how could I not hate you for that?”

My grandfather, Marvin Vega, arranges a blind date for me. The guy, Hugo Crawford, comes from a well-respected scholarly family. Wanting to make a good impression on Hugo, I put extra effort into dressing up. But I have barely taken my seat when Hugo's self-proclaimed "gold-digger detector" childhood friend, Marlene Welch, comes charging over. She crosses her arms and sweeps a disdainful look over my outfit. "You're covered in designer brands from head to toe. How much are you planning to squeeze out of Hugo?" Hugo helplessly pulls her back and explains apologetically to me in a low voice, "She just went through a breakup, so she can't stand women who wear designer brands. Please don't take it personally." I smile and say nothing, figuring it's best not to make a scene at a first meeting. But Marlene starts criticizing me again, "You put on this whole pampered heiress act with the designer clothes and jewelry just so men will willingly bankroll you. "All this designer stuff must be from some ex-boyfriend you bled dry, right? Since I was little, I've seen plenty of fake socialites like you who'll stop at nothing to marry into money and bleed a man dry." I let out an exasperated laugh at hearing such vicious, prejudiced remarks. I then glance at the Patek Philippe on my wrist. Even in ten years, she still won't be able to afford what I'm wearing right now.

My daughter, Vivian Montiago, is born with a heart condition. To protect her, I decide to spend 200 million dollars on building a prestigious preschool for her in the company's park. I don't want her to be lonely, so I also decide to allow the other employees' children to attend the preschool for free to keep Vivian company. However, on the first day of preschool, Vivian's smartwatch alert keeps going off. When I rush over to the preschool, I find out that Vivian is all tied up and left to die under the hot afternoon sun. Her skin is red and blistering, and her lips are purple as she teeters on the edge of death. "Are you all blind? Call the ambulance!" I yell in anger, grabbing Vivian and rushing out of the place. However, Hailey Lester, my husband's secretary, gets in my way. "You seduced my husband and birthed an illegitimate child. How dare you try to get away without being punished?" she screams, slapping me hard in the face. "I'm telling you that this preschool is a gift to me and my son from Rhett! And you're not allowed to step out of this place without my explicit permission!" "Her life is in danger! We'll talk about that later!" I exclaim, not wanting to argue with her. However, she kicks me to the ground and says, "So what if his bastard daughter dies? He can have a daughter with me if he really wants one!" The company employees don't seem to care about Vivian's health condition at all. They point at me and say, "Ms. Lester is Mr. Montiago's beloved wife, and she also owns this place! You're nothing but a homewrecker trying to take advantage of the free preschool program. Get down and apologize at once!" Fine. Since everyone is as blind as my husband, Rhett Montiago, in realizing who the real deal is, I decide that I am not sparing a single one of them.

My future mother-in-law loved to twist the truth. She gave me 1,300 dollars as the wedding fund, then told everyone it was 130,000. All she did was take me to a jewelry store to try on a few pieces, yet she went around bragging that she had spent tens of thousands on me. I told myself it was fine. I was going to spend my life with my husband, not her. So I swallowed it. Until the night before the wedding. We had a minor argument, and he let it slip without thinking. "My family already spent 150,000 dollars just to marry you. What else do you want? "We've spent 130,000 just for the wedding. Anyone who didn't know better would think your family was selling a daughter." For a second, I could not even speak. That money had never passed through his hands. Both families had sat down and discussed it together. However, he believed every word his mother had said. He really thought I had taken some outrageously expensive wedding gifts. That was when it finally sank in how wrong I had been. So when my future mother-in-law sent me a pathetic 1,000 dollars for the wedding banquet, while telling everyone she had given me 15,000, I stopped holding back. On the wedding day, I swapped out the luxury banquet for instant noodles. Then, I played her stingy little transfer on a loop for all the guests to see.