Short Emotional Realism Stories & Novels

As a dive engineer, I need to go down into the shaft to retrieve a drill bit in order to speed up construction on the 800-million-dollar construction project before Independence Day. Little do I know that I've barely made my way down the shaft when I realize I don't have enough oxygen to last the journey. Amid my panic, I completely lose my sense of direction. So, I dig out my wireless radio in an attempt to communicate with my fiancee, Viola Jenkins. But all I hear is her laughter over the radio. "Aren't you all high and mighty, Elden? I'd like to see how long you can last underwater without oxygen!" Her first love, Ron Carey, adds, "Just sit back and watch the show, Viola! He'll definitely beg you to open the manhole cover for him when the time comes!" That's when I realize Viola and Ron have allied together to kill me. Not only have they closed the manhole cover, but they've also cut off my life-saving oxygen supply. After ensuring that the manhole cover cannot be moved at all, I begin crying for help weakly into the radio. "Hurry… Open the cover for me… I'm running out of oxygen…" Viola's contemptuous voice drifts from the radio. "It's only been five minutes. Why are you playing the pity card already? This is Ron's first time in a construction site, so he's inhaling some oxygen from the canister because he's already lacking in oxygen. You can wait for a while. "If you have the time to moan about the lack of oxygen, you might as well use it to retrieve the drill bit. Stop dilly-dallying around, Elden! You seriously think I'll keep you around if you don't pull your weight around here?" With gnashed teeth, I cover 65 feet downward in the shaft. With the last bit of oxygen in my lungs, I place my hands on the drill bit that's stuck in the deepest part of the shaft that can determine whether or not the 800-million-dollar construction project will be a hit or miss. I'd like to see if Viola and Ron will be able to reap the benefits from this project just by killing me off in the shaft!

After spending six months overseas expanding business, I had just closed a deal worth ten billion. Casually scrolling through the news, a headline made me stop dead in my tracks. [Shocking! Illegitimate Daughter Provokes Meyer Family Heiress, Teacher and Classmates Punish Her!] In the video, my daughter Maeve stood in the freezing snow wearing nothing but a tattered dress, her body covered in bruises. She was being forced to endure the cold, her little frame shivering uncontrollably. A female teacher poked at Maeve's head, ordering the entire class to call her a shameless illegitimate child. Maeve sobbed, insisting she wasn't, but all she got in return was crueler, more mocking laughter from everyone around her. Then a chubby little boy ran up and slapped her across the face. "Your mom's a mistress, and you're a filthy illegitimate child! You're both just gutter rats!" The teacher didn't stop him—she clapped her hands in approval. "That's right! The Meyer family heir isn't something just any nobody gets to pretend to be." "Besides, Mrs. Meyer picks up Clarisse every single day. Look at her—so elegant, clearly classy. And your homewrecker of a mother? Pathetic. She's not even in the same league." When I heard that last line, I slammed my laptop shut, shaking with rage. I turned to my assistant. "Book me the fastest private jet home. I want to see for myself exactly when Aaron, that worthless husband of mine, managed to father an illegitimate child."

Everyone in our social circle knew that my fiancée, Hazel Mullins, had a skin hunger condition toward me. Only touching me brought her excitement and satisfaction. But the self-proclaimed heartthrob and heir to the Newman family refused to believe it. He boldly declared that he would win her over within a month. After bombarding her with seductive photos for an entire month, Hazel finally reached her breaking point and auctioned them off. With his reputation ruined, Rory Newman was disowned by his family. In a fit of rage, he jumped off a bridge in an apparent suicide attempt. Hazel lost her mind and leaped after him. I became the biggest laughingstock in the circle. That was until I went skiing in the Alps and accidentally bumped into Hazel helping Rory select ski gear. She explained with a composed expression, "Rory's dealing with some serious emotional trauma. The doctor suggested more outdoor activities. Just please, don't throw another tantrum." I felt bewildered. I wasn't even involved with them anymore. Why would I get upset? Then it hit me that she was unaware of one fact. I had already married someone else on the same day she jumped into the water after Rory in that dramatic display of devotion. I was simply there for my honeymoon, with a bit of skiing on the side.

The first day we moved into our new place, the girl next door, who lived alone, came over with red-rimmed eyes and begged my son to fix the broken water heater in her room. In my previous life, I felt sorry for her, so young and already without parents, so I sent my son over to help. That night her room caught fire. She stumbled out and sobbed to everyone who'd listen. "Her son tried to rape me, and when he couldn't, he set the fire to burn me alive and silence me!" The day the verdict came down, my son's bright future as a pilot was destroyed in an instant, and he became a murderer the whole internet spat on. In prison, my son couldn't take the torture and the bullying, and he ended his own life by throwing himself against a wall. To pay off the debts, I worked three jobs, until one night a heart attack dropped me dead on the street. She, meanwhile, played the fire survivor and launched a crowdfunding campaign, raised three hundred thousand dollars, and paid cash for an apartment downtown. Now, living this life all over again, the girl stood there with red eyes, her voice small and timid. "Ma'am, I'm scared of electricity. Could your son help me out?" I pulled my son back inside, my face blank. "There's a repair number on the wall. The service call is twenty-five dollars."

The night I brought my boyfriend home to meet my parents, my dad insisted on playing cards with some relatives. When he came back, he collapsed to his knees in front of me, crying. Not only had he lost half a million dollars, but he had even gambled away my boyfriend to my cousin. He slapped himself and begged me for forgiveness. However, instead of yelling at him, I helped him to his feet. Then, I took out the savings I’d set aside for my future wedding and the deed to my house. “Let’s gamble one more time.”

I was the only daughter of the Sheffield family, and I had three older brothers. Life was going well until a memo app appeared on my phone. [June 15th: My eldest brother, Ian Sheffield, signed a bet agreement with his female secretary, and Sheffield Group's market value plummeted by 80 billion dollars.] [September 3rd: My second brother, Hayes Sheffield, was tricked by his dream girl and left the shareholders' meeting with nothing to his name.] [December 1st: My third brother, Liam Sheffield, gave up his inheritance rights for his dream girl, and the Sheffield family was completely ruined.] Just like that, I, Trina Sheffield, lost all three of my guaranteed providers? From that day on, I began the 'Save My Providers' plan. I swiped Ian's black card for 30 million dollars a day, causing him to become busy handling returns and customer complaints all day. I flew Hayes' private jet to Prosia and casually dismantled the entire interior, saying I was going to redo it. He was so mad that he kept me under surveillance through an eight-hour international video call. I turned Liam's temperature-controlled wine cellar into a karaoke room and sang all night, even using all eight million dollars' worth of wine for foot baths. Dark eye circles constantly plagued my three brothers from all this fuss; they did not even have time to look at their phones. As long as I was around, they could only revolve around me. This went on until a female secretary, Erin Langley, suddenly appeared in Ian's office. She glanced at me, her tone gentle but her eyes icy. "Little girl, the CEO's office isn't a playground. You can get lost and go play now." The corridor fell silent. My most fiercely protective brother, Ian, was about to push open the door and walk in.

Three years after our breakup, I ran into my ex-girlfriend, and she had her new boyfriend by her side. "Hey, isn't that Henry the expert?" Diego Stanley taunted with a smirk. "Three years post-breakup, and you're slumming it here playing with clay?" I furrowed my brow, ignored them, and carefully moved the Victorian-era porcelain musician figurine onto its preset base in the display case. When I wasn't biting, he reached out to grab the figurine from my arms. "What's this junk you're treating like gold? Let me take a look." Cynthia Wyatt frowned, her voice laced with that familiar arrogance. "Henry, I've given you three years to shape up, and you're still the same loser? Come on, hand over that clay doll to Diego. Don't kill the vibe. If you play nice, I might even reconsider our old engagement." As Diego's hand neared the figurine, I dodged quickly and barked, "Hands off! It's a historical artifact!" Diego got pissed off and shoved me hard. "Some flea market find, and you're acting all high and mighty?" In the ensuing scuffle, I lost my balance, and the figurine slipped from my grasp, crashing to the floor. That sealed their fate. This entitled pair was about to go bankrupt trying to fix it.

Celia Johnson, my boss's sister-in-law, joined the company as the finance director and announced that all reimbursements must strictly follow the standards. I spent an entire week running around for the company and finally closed a five-hundred-thousand-dollar deal. Because the client had used two extra packs of paper towels, the per-person amount for their meal ended up eight dollars over the limit. Celia folded her arms, glanced at the reimbursement form on my desk, and sneered. "Five hundred and eight dollars?" "Yes. Last night at The Peak Restaurant, where we closed Richard's deal. Zack was there too," I explained patiently. "Eight dollars over the per-person limit. Not reimbursable," Celia said coldly. I tried to reason with her. "This was a special case. The client is high-level, and the deal amount is large, and Zack personally said it would be fully reimbursed last night." She returned the reimbursement form to me. "I don't care who said that. Don't think closing a five-hundred-thousand-dollar contract lets you ignore company rules. Reimbursements must all follow policies. Everyone will follow them to the letter." I took a deep breath. I knew arguing with her head-on would get me nowhere, so I called Zack directly. Zack said, "I did say it would be reimbursed, but I never said company rules could be ignored. It's just five hundred. And you still get commission from closing the deal. You young people need to have perspective." I stopped arguing. I turned around and refused the delivery containing the hard copy of the five-hundred-thousand-dollar cooperation contract, smiling as I explained, "Company rules say all cash on delivery packages must be refused. "Also, today is my last day here. Starting tomorrow, I work for Richard's company. As the client, I will be setting the rules this time."

I was the hospital's top surgeon. After three successful surgeries, Medical Affairs decided to reprimand me in front of the whole hospital and canceled my bonus for the month. I argued with the head of Medical Affairs. "I've been working for this place for ten years, and I've always been the first to do everything! I went through five surgeries nonstop last year and had to go through one myself for exhaustion! What did I do to deserve this?" Yes, I was the top surgeon, but the bills were stressing me out, too. My husband had just lost his job, and I had to pay for the car, the mortgage, and our kid's extracurriculars. The burden I had to shoulder wasn't an easy one. So, I was counting on that bonus to get my kid into a basketball club, and now it had been taken away from me. This couldn't be happening! I couldn't believe that they were blaming me for a successful surgery! I was high up in the hierarchy here, so the department head didn't start a fallout right away. Instead, he tried to calm me down. "You drank two bags of IV during the late-night surgery and charged the patients for it. Their family's complaining about unfair fees, and it went viral. We had no choice!" That reminded me. That surgery was a complex one, and it wasn't even supposed to be assigned to me. After all, I'd been working around the operating table for 36 hours prior to that. However, it was the deputy director who came to me and insisted that I take over. I had no choice but to go ahead.

On the day I'm supposed to get promoted as the deputy director, I pick up a 40-pound barbell before breaking my right arm with it. Because of the injury, I missed the only title-evaluating surgery available in five years. Everyone feels sorry for me, seeing as I've practically ruined my own future with my own hands. But I, on the other hand, am so excited about it that I've downed two bottles of vintage wine in one go. Because in my past life, I spent ten hours in surgery and pulled the patient back from the brink of death. But my wife, Megan Reese, immediately accused me of abusing my power as a doctor just to resolve a personal vendetta by killing her first love, Pierre Hopkins, on purpose. She bribed the nurses who were in the same surgery as me. They were adamant that I used the wrong medication purposefully, which led to the patient dying from a rupture. Not only was my career destroyed, but I also became a public enemy, hated by everyone. My mom tried to seek justice on my behalf, only to get cyberbullied by the Internet users, who knew nothing about the truth, to the point that she broke down. In the end, she accidentally fell into the river and drowned. When I received the tragic news, I chose to end my life by jumping off the hospital's rooftop. After I died, Megan spent my assets however she wanted. She also lived happily ever after with Pierre, who apparently "came back to life". When I open my eyes again, I've returned to the day I'm supposed to perform a surgery on Pierre.

After my son’s surgery, I stayed overnight at the hospital. While keeping watch, I scrolled through my phone and came across a post. [What’s the worst thing you’ve ever done?] An anonymous user replied. [I used the senior who sponsored me as a stepping stone.] [My sponsor was rich and clueless. He paid for my entire college education, and after I graduated, I slept with his wife. She even had my child.] [The best part is that he treats my son like his own. He works himself to exhaustion just to set that kid up for life.] [By the way, his family just received three million from the relocation compensation. My lover will be here soon. She’ll pretend we need it for a school district apartment and trick him into giving it to us.] [Once the cash is in hand and the villa is bought, I’ll have my son acknowledge me as his real father and then throw my sponsor out of the house.] A blurry photo of a little boy was attached. My heart skipped a beat. On his wrist was the safety charm I had given my son. Just then, my wife pushed open the hospital room door. “Honey, Xeno is starting elementary school soon. Let’s take your mom’s compensation money from the relocation and use it to buy a place in a good school district.”

My father, Terence Locke, is covered in mud. He grabs my shoulders desperately, and his eyes are bloodshot. He says, "Emma, my company has gone bankrupt, and I accidentally killed a business rival. You have to run away with me." I believe him. Suppressing my fear, I follow him deep into the untouched mountains. To find food for him, I eat bugs and drink dirty water. When a pack of wolves closes in on our cave, my first instinct is to stand in front of him. "Dad, I'll lure them away. Run!" I look back at him one last time before finally making up my mind to trade my life for his. But after I leap off a seemingly bottomless cliff and fall to a pulp on the rocks below, I somehow "see" him inside a slowly descending helicopter. He is popping a bottle of champagne in celebration. At that moment, I finally understand everything. The whole desperate escape over the past few days that ultimately pushes me to sacrifice my life is nothing more than a reality show staged by him. He is merely putting on a performance, while I am truly dead...

One of my classmates, Liam, called me one day. His mom was planning to get a divorce, and he wanted me to talk to her.   The first time I saw Liam’s mom, I was captivated by her unique charm as a mature woman. From then on, I couldn’t stop thinking about her.   One day, I decided to invite Liam for a hike. He wasn’t home, but there were faint moans coming from inside the room. I pushed the door open to find Claire lying on a red blanket. Her legs were entwined, and she moved in a way that was impossible to ignore.   Who knew Liam’s mom would be so good at it? Quietly, I moved further into the room. Without a word, she walked over and shut the bedroom door behind me. 

On my son, William Lewis' birthday, I secretly visit the learning center he studies at in hopes of giving him a surprise. But when I tell the teacher that I'm Will's father, the latter frowns in response. "You say you're Will's father?" I nod, feeling a little displeased. Although my wife, Amelia Garrett, is the one driving William to and from the learning center, there's absolutely no reason for the teacher to doubt me like this. But suddenly, the teacher smiles brightly at me and tells me he'll bring William with him soon. As I watch him walk through the door, I decide to not take this matter to heart. The next thing I know, the teacher reappears with two burly guys flanking him. "That's the one! He intends to kidnap children from my class!"

My daughter suffered carbon monoxide poisoning and urgently needed to be taken to the hospital. However, the ambulance was blocked by my wife's car. She was carrying the man she had always loved, who only had a cold. She refused to move and even got into a fierce argument with the paramedics. She said, "Whether your patient lives or dies has nothing to do with me. I have a patient in my car as well. Why should I give way?" In the end, my daughter missed the critical window for treatment and passed away. From that moment on, my heart was completely dead. I took my wife to court.

Campus food deliveries vanished so often that no one even commented anymore. Then it happened to me again and again. I never identified the thief, but by New Year's Eve I was finished with being an easy mark. I set out a bowl of soup as bait and soaked it with water wrung from an old bathroom mop. I meant to make whoever stole it regret touching my food. A week later, the police did not come for the thief. They came for me. The counselor slid a penalty notice across his desk—600 dollars for food costs and medical fees, due next week. The person who ate my food had been hospitalized for "poisoning." The school was already discussing a major demerit, the cancellation of my first-class scholarship, and the loss of my needs-based stipend. That stipend was the money keeping my sick mother alive. They planned to pin everything on me, shield the real culprit, and bury me under paperwork. Unfortunately for them, they chose the wrong target. I was the law department's resident argument addict, and I intended to turn their dirty little mediation into a public collapse.

The human traffickers were apprehended, and after DNA verification, the police returned me to my affluent parents. My parents gave a cold nod, thanked the officers, and instructed the butler to make me comfortable. Two months after returning home, the fake heiress, Irene Burrel, secretly signed me up for a wilderness survival course. My parents gently stroked her head. “Since you want to play, let her accompany you.” They did not care one bit if I died out there. Irene smirked triumphantly at me. “What does it matter if you’re the real heiress? I can still do whatever I want with you! “Survival training is my daily routine. I’ll make sure you leave that competition on a stretcher!” When we arrived at the wilderness training grounds in the mountains, I laughed. I grew up in these very forests. Did she think I did not know this place?

During the two months that I was away for a competition, my neighbors insulted me in the neighborhood’s common group chat. [The girl living on the ninth floor, you look like a decent girl. Why are you bringing so many men back home every day?] [Can you moan a little softer? I don’t care if you’re a sex worker, but if you keep making loud noises until midnight, don’t blame me for calling the police!] [Don’t call the police yet. I haven’t had my turn. How much are you charging, Charlene?] My heart sank. Before I left for my competition, I had asked my boyfriend, Jacob Smith, to take care of my luxury river-view apartment. That way, he could keep an eye on my expensive paintings. What was happening? I rushed home in confusion, but when I opened the door, I was further dumbfounded. My 3,000-square-foot apartment had been partitioned into 30 rooms. Meanwhile, Jacob’s childhood friend, Prissy Black, was holding a string of keys as she collected rent money. When they saw me, everyone started laughing. “What? Are you here to rent from Prissy after learning that she’s providing cheap rooms in such a pristine location? “Too bad everyone knows that you’re eyeing her boyfriend. You won’t be able to benefit from doing such a thing!” I was extremely furious as I approached Jacob to talk about it. However, he told me that it was Prissy’s dream to be a landlady. He asked me not to pay it any mind and to treat it as doing a good deed. “You’re rich anyway. Don’t be so calculative. Everyone’s happy now, so what’s wrong with that?” The keys tinkled in Prissy’s hand as if they were taunting me. “This house doesn’t welcome stray animals like you. You have yourself to blame for not having such a nice boyfriend.” The two of them acted all lovey-dovey in front of me, and I immediately called the police. “Someone’s trespassing on my property, and my painting that’s worth 15 million dollars has gone missing. What type of punishment would this entail?”

Simply because I upset my adopted younger brother, Owen White, my older sister, Quinn White, and my wife, Elaine Sinclair, banish me to a remote mountain village as punishment. Before she leaves, Elaine even gives the villagers money and instructs them to make sure I learn my lesson. From that day onward, I'm reduced to the villagers' plaything, a punching bag and a tool for their depravity. If I show even the slightest resistance, I receive even more brutal punishment and humiliation. It takes only three months for me to go from desperately fighting for survival to becoming completely numb and willingly stripping for them. Then, one day, the village chief, Martha Campbell, storms into my house. Instinctively, I take off my only tattered coat, but she snaps at me, "Put it back on! Ms. Sinclair is here to take you home." In a daze, I wrap my clothes tightly around myself, a single thought echoing in my mind. "Do I still have a home?"

I was born with an extraordinary talent for being slow. In elementary school, my classmates laughed in my face for being an orphan. I proudly said, "That's right. I'm the only orphan in the whole school. That makes me the coolest!" The principal happened to pass by and thought I had been bullied so badly I had snapped. Furious, he called their parents and they gave them a beating when they got home. During my freshman year of high school, a boy tried to prank me by confessing to me with a bouquet of white lilies. I accepted them with a smile. "Thank you. How did you know lilies were my favorite?" After that, every time I saw him at school, I would smile and say, "I really liked the white lilies you gave me." For the next three years, everyone called him Lily instead. Later, my wealthy biological parents found me and brought me home. On my first day there, the fake heiress set me up by pretending I had pushed her down, then cried, "I made a mistake. Please don't hurt me!" My parents and older brother rushed over in a panic, but before they could accuse me of anything, realization struck. "You're practicing acting, right? I haven't even done my part yet! Let's do it again!" With that, I pulled her up and shoved her hard to the floor again. When my family saw how calm I was, they nodded in relief. Later, the whole family went to Harbor City for a banquet for the rich, and the fake heiress pushed me into a dark room. In front of me stood Harbor City's ruthless ruler. On the floor lay a man covered in blood, barely alive. I covered my mouth in surprise. The man narrowed his eyes dangerously and walked toward me. I said excitedly, "This is my first time seeing a movie set. Can I be in it too?"