Short Emotional Realism Stories & Novels

When I got off the plane, a notification popped up on my phone. It was an announcement of my wife's wedding to her lover on social media. I rushed to the company, but I was stopped by the HR director at the elevator. "You are fired. Our company doesn't need freeloaders like you." I was utterly confused. Wasn't this my own company? "Is this a direct order from Claire Luna?" I inquired. "Haha, you are just a nobody in the company. Why would our president Ms. Luna bother with you?" "This is Mr. White's order!" I laughed in disbelief. Since when did Evan White speak for my wife? "Where are they?" I asked the HR director. "They are finally having their wedding on the top floor of the banquet hall. You need to leave now as the top floor is only accessible to the executives." Upon hearing that, I pushed the HR director away. I immediately pulled out my identification card and tapped it on the access scanner. "Beep. Highest authorization confirmed. Welcome back."

My mom gets buzzed at the family dinner and insists on burning my admission letter. She says, "You're a guy, and yet you can't get into Horvard University! What makes you think you can study at any university now? You might as well quit studying altogether!" I try to stop her from doing so, only for my dad to stop me instead. "It's just a stupid scrap of paper. Don't put a damper on your mom's mood, now. Can't you just retake the college admission exam?" Just like that, my fruit of labor gets burned to ashes. When I'm studying for the exam again, Mom keeps inviting people home for drinks. All I do is utter one complaint, and I get beaten to death by her drinking buddies. When I open my eyes again, I've returned to the night of the family dinner. This time, I've swapped out my admission letter to the IOU her boss has told her to safeguard. Go ahead and burn it. Two years later, I'll be sure to visit you at your grave, Mom.

After my parents died, the family went bankrupt, leaving my brother and me with a large sum of debt. To pay it off, he became a haunted-house test sleeper, while I acted as a corpse on film sets. For five years, we worked tirelessly, not daring to rest a single day—and still, the debt wasn't cleared. By the end of the year, only 13 thousand dollars remained. Gritting my teeth, I signed up as a clinical trial volunteer. When it was over, I dragged 13 thousand dollars in cash, brimming with joy, to show my brother. But I found him frowning, on the phone. "Dad, Mom, Lily's doing well. Have fun abroad," he said. "She's stopped spending recklessly. The punishment ends next year." What? Our parents weren't dead? Our family wasn't bankrupt? The five years of hardship, every ounce of struggle—I'd endured it all as punishment for my love of spending. My smile froze on my face. My stomach churned violently. A mouthful of fresh blood spilled out.

For snacking in the office during overtime, I was fined 600,000 dollars by my manager! She was extremely furious as she pointed at me. “Taylor, don’t be so arrogant just because you’ve secured a deal! “You should be working in the office. Go home if you want to eat! “You’re violating company rules. No snacking during working hours! You should be punished since you’re aware of that rule! “You won’t be getting the 600,000-dollar commission from this deal!” I looked at her and said indifferently, “Suit yourself.” Then, I decided to slack. She could not stand it.

It was almost New Year. I had just withdrawn money from the bank when I noticed that the amount on my passbook didn't match the cash in my hand. I counted carefully—my passbook showed a different figure than the five thousand dollars I was holding. Frustrated, I turned and went back to the counter to find the teller who had handled my transaction. Clutching the receipt, I tried to be polite. "Excuse me, I think there might be a mistake with this transaction." Instantly, she snapped, pointing her finger at my nose. "Don't you know that once you leave the counter, we are not responsible for any discrepancies?" I waved my hands, trying to explain. "No, wait, look again. I clearly withdrew five thousand dollars, but on my passbook, it shows…" She cut me off impatiently. "When you filled out the form, it was all right there. Once you leave the counter, it's not our problem. You signed the form yourself, confirming everything. Are we supposed to correct it every time someone claims a mistake after leaving the bank?" I froze. No wonder she kept repeating that the bank isn't responsible after leaving the counter. She thought I had come back to ask for more money. What I was really trying to explain was simple: I withdrew five thousand, yet my passbook showed that I deposited five thousand.

By chance, I stumbled across a trending post from our company's finance department while scrolling through social media. "That idiot in Sales. I just wanted to put my bar receipt under his name for reimbursement and he refused! If he won't let me claim it, then no one gets reimbursed! This time I'll make sure he learns what happens when you offend Finance!" The comments section was full of complaints and criticism, but the original poster didn't seem bothered in the slightest. The tone was arrogant, almost smug. "What's there to be scared of? Finance is the lifeline of any company! Would the boss really risk offending the backbone of the company over some replaceable sales guy? No way that's ever happening!" I stared at the all-too-familiar face in the profile picture and let out a silent, cold laugh. Blocking my reimbursement? Fine. This time, I'd like to see for myself what would actually happen if I mess with Finance.

My coworker, Kevin Walter, invited me to join a private messaging chat group of rich women. There are plenty of perks, such as the 300-dollar cash gift he claimed right in front of me. I joined the group out of curiosity and got to know a wealthy woman named Ms. White. After some time together, she invited me on a vacation to a famous tourist city near the country's border. Little did I know, I was close enough to being dragged into a dangerous area abroad to become a live organ donor.

The Andersons' rule was simple and brutal: the inheritance passed to sons, never daughters. So, I lived as a man for ten years. Even Winston Quinn, the one I had been promised to since childhood, had no idea. To him, I was just his best friend. After taking control of everything, I was finally ready to tell him the truth. Before I could say a word, Winston grabbed my arm, smiling like he couldn't be happier. "Sam, there's something I've been keeping from you. Louise quietly came back last month. We're getting married! She really looks like you." My whole body went rigid. That “sister” I had made up, the one who was supposedly recovering overseas? Before I could react, a woman who looked eerily like me peeked out from behind him. She shoved me aside, her expression sharp and smug. "I'm back, Sam. Stop clinging to Winston just because you're my brother. Have some shame. Otherwise, I'll tell everyone you've got twisted feelings for your future brother-in-law!" I looked at the arrogant impostor in front of me and almost laughed from sheer anger. She was Louise Anderson? Then who the hell was I?

On the day I get buried alive by the avalanche, my biological older sister, Whitney Linder, cuts off the safety rope wrapped around my waist in order to save Cameron Linder, the fake heir who has replaced me all these years. The snow is about to cover my head, and I can feel my warmth rapidly draining from my body. In despair, I begin screaming at Whitney. "Don't leave me behind, Whitney! Otherwise, my adoptive father's subordinates will settle the score with you by blasting the entire mountain into pieces!" Over the years since I get accepted back into the elite Linder family, I've been keeping up a cowardly and docile facade. Never have I ever mentioned my adoptive parents, who live abroad. Because of that, the Lindens have no idea that the married couple who have adopted me are actually the leaders of an international mercenary squad. My adoptive dad is a legendary sniper, whereas my adoptive mom is a demolitions expert. I'm the apple of the entire squad's eye. But Whitney pulls back the severed rope with a cold chuckle. "Keep dreaming, Skylar! You're just a country bumpkin who lies all the time, so you definitely don't have any powerful subordinates! You should be grateful to me for taking you here for a skiing trip without complaining about how much you embarrass me in public! "To think that you actually have the guts to fight for a chance of survival with Cameron! Don't you know that he mustn't suffer from any shock at all?" After that, Whitney leaves with Cameron in tow. "Since your adoptive parents are that amazing, why don't you get them to fly over in a helicopter to rescue you?" When the light above my head vanishes, I use what little strength I have to press the red button on the satellite-based GPS. What Whitney doesn't know is that she will die in the mountain once the signal is sent out.

In my past life, my mother had adopted me out to my aunt, but kept my older sister close to her. I followed my aunt into the world of business and became a success that everyone envied. My sister, consumed by jealousy over my life, seduced my husband. To claim my fortune, she even schemed to burn down my villa. But she hadn't counted on the fire spreading too fast—we both perished in the blaze. Reborn, I now had a second chance. And of course, my sister was the first to step forward, claiming she should be my aunt's daughter. I smiled. Things were panning out just as I'd hoped.

When my ex-husband, Hanson Rowse, got remarried, I jumped into the ocean with our ten-year-old daughter, Tess Rowse, in my arms. The police called Hanson and my parents. The wedding reception was cut short, and they all rushed over. My soul hung in the air above it all, watching as Tess was pulled from the water. The sight of her hit like a blade to the chest. At the hospital, my parents looked at her with nothing but cold indifference. My brother, Edward Wells, didn't hesitate. He stepped forward and slapped her hard across the face. "You're just like your mother! Always causing trouble and pulling cheap stunts like this just to get attention." Hanson's fists clenched. He scanned the area, and when he couldn't see me anywhere, anger spilled into his eyes. "Where's Melody? She picked my wedding day to pull this stunt, and now she won't even show her face? If she really wanted to die, why leave behind this burden?" At his words, Tess suddenly moved. She stumbled toward the window, climbed up, and before anyone could react, she jumped. The room went dead silent for a heartbeat. Then, the screaming started. What they didn't know was this: the first thing Tess and I learned at that reform school was obedience.

I worked for a restaurant, and our boss loved making empty promises about giving us restaurant shares. The boss said we would start with zero shares, but we could earn 0.01% for every two hours of overtime, covering someone else’s work or saving the restaurant 1,000 bucks. I suggested she write this down in an official document and have someone track it properly. She just smiled and told everyone to work harder. She never actually put it in writing. The experienced staff did not believe her, but one prep cook took it seriously. At the end of the year, he went to the boss to claim his shares. The boss said, “Sorry, the head chef told me there’s no official document, so it doesn’t count. You can’t claim any shares.” The prep cook worked hard all year and got nothing for it, so he took his anger out on me. The day before I was going home for the New Year, he killed me with a knife. “If you hadn’t said it doesn’t count without an official document, this whole restaurant would’ve been mine!” I lay in a pool of blood. When I opened my eyes, I was back to the day the boss first made those empty promises.

"You guys know what the situation is like in this industry this year. I need to cut our end-of-the-year bonus by half in order to overcome this difficult period." My boss, Peter Hurley, claims that things are difficult in the industry right now, yet his wrist still showcases the luxury watch that he's just bought. My 20,000-dollar bonus is reduced to 700 dollars. In addition, I also received a plaque that says "Award for Outstanding Contribution". "This plaque is worth a lot, Soren. It represents the acknowledgement this company has for you. Don't be so petty when it comes to money." As I stare at the plaque in my hand, I can't help but scoff furiously. "Fine. I won't be that petty when it comes to money. I hope you won't be that petty either when you're paying next month's rent." Peter is stunned momentarily. "What do you mean by that?" I toss the plaque into the trash can. "What I mean is, I'm the landlord of this building. From next month onward, the rent will be increased ten times. If you refuse to accept the new rent, you can pack up and scram."

My mother-in-law has gotten kidnapped, and yet my husband, Josiah Broadway, decides to celebrate the success of his childhood sweetheart, Vivian Spencer's performance with her. The kidnapper has requested a ten-million-dollar ransom. If he doesn't receive the money in his bank account in an hour, he'll kill the hostage immediately. But my calls to Josiah's phone never go through. When there's only one minute left on the timer, Josiah calls me back calmly. "Since that hag is already that old, she might as well die. I'm not wasting my money on her." Just like that, my mother-in-law is thrown into the sea by the furious kidnapper. The search-and-rescue team has to resort to using long hooks in order to fish her corpse out of the sea. As soon as the body is delivered to the crematorium, Josiah sends me a voice message excitedly. "Have your mom's corpse sent to the studio! Vivian's performance needs a corpse anyway! Using a real corpse will make the whole performance seem more realistic!" I'm pissed off, to say the least. So, that bastard thinks that my mom is the one who died, huh? After that, I have my mother-in-law's corpse, which is completely disfigured from all the fishing and hooking, sent to the studio without any hesitation.

When my husband and I drop by his childhood home for Christmas dinner, my mother-in-law, Melissa Potter, is the only one busying away in the kitchen. Everyone else is on their phones. I've just taken a seat when Melissa begins to lecture me. "What, are you just going to sit your ass down and wait for food to come? Don't you know when to lend a helping hand? Am I supposed to exhaust myself for your sake?" From time to time, she keeps rattling the pots and pans loudly. "I can't believe those with healthy bodies want a 70-year-old like me to serve them! Does anyone here have any conscience?" Feeling a little uneasy, I gave my husband a tiny nudge. "Why don't you help Mom out?" After Melissa hears my suggestion, she gets even more pissed off. Thinking that this is my first Christmas with my in-laws, I don't really want to cause a scene here, so I get up to my feet and help her out. But the moment I enter the kitchen, Melissa delegates all the tasks to me. I endure my fury as much as I can while finishing the Christmas dinner preparations. When I'm about to head back to the dining table and dig in, Melissa suddenly speaks up. "Hold up. We got scores to settle before dinner."

My wife, Lilian Barton, loves me more than life itself. She has spent the past eight years working hard with me just so she can get pregnant with my child. Our son, Wesley Carson, needs immediate medical attention because of an asthma attack. On my way to the hospital, I accidentally crash into the wedding procession of a mafia leader. Wesley, who's barely a month old, is hurled to the ground, causing him to bleed everywhere. But that's when I see Lilian, who has an arm wrapped around the groom in the car. She tells a subordinate, "What bad luck! Not only is my wedding being interrupted, but there's also blood being spilled on my wedding day! Just kill that little bastard already!" Lilian outright ignores Wesley's cries of pain. Before she leaves, I hear her murmur, "Cover his mouth. That baby's cries are so annoying."

A Gen Z employee named Sylvie Mercer has reported me to the Department of Labor by claiming that I've forced all employees to work on the year-end holidays. But the truth is, I've given the entire company a nine-day vacation just to celebrate the year-end holidays. Those who are willing to work overtime shifts will be paid three times their usual salaries and given an additional five-thousand-dollar bonus. Sylvie keeps crying on the internet about how all the employees, including her, are forced to trade their lives for money. Thanks to her, the entire Internet keeps bashing me. So, I decide to follow the public opinion by releasing an announcement. "In order to ensure all employees' health, the company's doors shall be locked during the year-end holidays. Do note that the electric supply will be cut off as well. No one is permitted entry into the company." As soon as the announcement is released, the employees who plan on earning extra money in order to pay off their mortgages all rush toward my office in alarm.

The new intern claimed she had clairvoyant sight. With just one look, she could tell exactly where the underground gold deposits were. As the institute’s chief gold prospector, I was deeply embarrassed. Every time I went through hell to locate a vein, she somehow managed to report it to the institute before I could. Even the engineering crew working under me was full of complaints. “What kind of chief prospector is she? Following her means panning in the river one day and digging holes in the mountains the next. We work ourselves half to death and get nothing to show for it!” “Exactly. Look at Jane. She just joined the institute and has already found two major gold mines. The crews working with her have already earned first-class commendations.” While the crew complained about me, I began to suspect that someone among them was leaking information. So the next time I went out to search for gold, I worked alone and finally found a major deposit. But just as I was about to report it to the institute, I discovered that Jane had beaten me to it again. That time, I couldn’t hold back anymore. I openly questioned her and accused her of stealing my work. She fired back, claiming her clairvoyant sight had shown her that I had been secretly pocketing gold from the mine. Even my fiancé stepped forward and testified against me. In the end, I was sent to prison on false charges and died there, never able to clear my name. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day my fiancé’s junior apprentice first claimed she had clairvoyant sight.

My younger brother, Samuel, gave me a call and asked me to go to his university. However, his unusually serious tone took me aback. I rushed over to his counselling office, only to see him, his fellow counselors, and a female junior whom I had coincidentally helped in the last semester. The female junior, Sally, was covering her slightly protruding belly. She abruptly dropped to her knees before me in front of the counselors. “Honey, I know this unexpected pregnancy has put a lot of pressure on you. But you can’t just abandon me and our baby!” she choked back with tears. Then, she reached out to grab the hem of my clothes. However, I stepped back and left. Sally’s cries turned sharp and shrill. “You heartless jerk! How could you behave like this?! If I’d known that you’d pretend not to know me the second it was over, I would’ve never gone to a hotel with you!” One of the counselors looked furious, and he seemed furious beyond measure. “Kid, being young is no excuse. A man needs to take responsibility!” A crowd began to gather outside the office. Their pointing fingers and contemptuous stares nearly overwhelmed me. In the middle of the chaos, Samuel casually leaned against the wall and spoke with a drawl. “Chris, aren’t you going to stay and see your unborn baby?”

I got a security job in an upscale neighborhood.  One day, I got a call from a resident.  “I think there’s been a break-in.”  I rushed to the scene. Instead of an intruder, I was greeted by a beautiful woman in barely anything.  She held me and pleaded, “I’m scared. Can you stay with me?”