Short Emotional Realism Stories & Novels

In my past life, when Mom and Dad divorced, they made my sister and me choose. My younger sister, Keira McKellen, didn't hesitate—she picked our rich father, certain she'd become a wealthy young lady and inherit a fortune. But Dad already had another woman, and once his mistress gave birth to a son, Keira went from heiress to nothing overnight. Worse, the woman drove her out of the house entirely, and she was left to wander with nowhere to go. I chose Mom, and ended up living the charmed life instead: I got into a top university, married into a powerful family, and went from ugly duckling to swan—the very top of the world. My sister's envy of me curdled into madness, and on the day my whole family gathered to celebrate my birthday, she burned every one of them alive. When I opened my eyes again, it was the day of my parents' divorce, all over from the start. I saw her rush to choose Mom before I even could, and I knew—she'd been reborn too. What she doesn't know is that living with Dad is miserable, sure, but Mom is broke and out of her mind, and life with her is even worse.

Mom and Dad aren't bothered at all when I completely start slacking off. Kennedy Quinlan, my girlfriend's brother, who has established a reputation as a genius inventor, completely breaks down, while I slack off instead of conducting research in the lab. In my past life, Kennedy files an identical patent application just one day before I do, causing everyone to brand me as a fraud and accuse me of blatant plagiarism. I try to explain myself, but no one believes me. Kennedy eventually launches a live stream to blast me online, accusing me of trying to scam my way into their family's fortune. They run a massive cyberbullying campaign against my whole family. Mom and Dad only want to clear things up, but Kennedy's crazed fans push them off a high-rise building, leaving them to die in unresolved grief. Unable to handle the blow, I fall into a severe depression and end up slitting my wrists. I still can't wrap my head around the whole situation, even in my final moments. It is obviously the fruit of my own painstaking research, so why does someone else get to file the patent first? I suddenly open my eyes and find myself back on the day before my invention is stolen.

My older sister, Holly Keller, is studying in the public library for her SATs when a stray bullet hits her. Blood pours from the wound. Instead of stopping, I quicken my pace, walking right past her and acting like I haven't seen a thing. It was because, in my past life, I took her to the hospital as soon as the accident happened. The gunshot to her head caused severe intracranial bleeding, and she needed surgery right away. I called our mom, who happened to be the top neurosurgeon in the city. And I begged her to get to the hospital as fast as possible. But she assumed I'm just being jealous because she had taken my adopted brother on a trip instead of spending time with me. Assuming that I was making the whole thing up to ruin their trip, she flat-out refused to come back. By the time Dad and the rest of the family arrived at the hospital, Holly was already gone despite the doctors' best efforts. The entire family blamed me for Holly's death. They believed I had deliberately misled Mom just to screw up Holly's chances of getting treated in time. When Mom finally rushed back from out of town, she completely lost it. She shoved me down the stairs and watched as I bleed to death. When I open my eyes again, I'm back to the day Holly is shot in the library.

A new community center had just been set up right next to the local store. On the first day, my daughter, Chloe Parker, came home clutching a free carton of eggs. On the second day, she brought home a bottle of olive oil and a bottle of balsamic vinegar. On the third day, arriving home and panting, she excitedly carried in a pack of pasta. I casually asked her, “Did you get that from work?” Chloe collapsed onto the couch, her chest heaving as she replied, “No, it's from that new community center down the street. They're giving away free groceries to anyone who signs up with their phone number and home address.” She casually continued, “I saw a massive line of seniors waiting out there, so I figured I'd grab some for you.” I frowned. “No legitimate charity or business demands your exact street address just for a basic promotional giveaway.” Chloe retorted impatiently, “Mom, you're retired. Can you please stop treating every single person you meet like a suspect?” My son, Leo Parker, chimed in and said, “Seriously, Mom. It's a five-pound pack of pasta. How much is it worth? What could they possibly want from you? Just don't go down there and make a massive scene. We literally cannot handle the embarrassment.” They didn't get it. They couldn't—because I’d spent my whole life as a detective. Every big scam always starts with a piece of free candy.

My brother, Charles Raymond, said he wanted a family mountain climbing trip. So, Mom forced me to go, completely ignoring my raging fever. Halfway up the snowy peak, Charles and I got severe altitude sickness. But Mom didn't care if I lived or died. She insisted on giving the very last oxygen tank to him, even though his symptoms were mild. When the rescue team finally arrived, I begged her to save me first. Instead, she looked at me with pure disgust. "There isn't enough room in the vehicle," she snapped. "Stop faking sickness just to compete with your brother. You're delaying his medical treatment." In the end, I was left behind. I died a brutal death in the endless, freezing snow. And my unloved life finally came to an end.

My sister, Luna Rivers, is famous in Bridgeburg for being absurdly devoted to her little brother. She spends millions of dollars to throw a party for my 18th birthday. But on the day of the party, she personally locks me inside a small dark room. By the time I smash the door open and stagger into the ballroom, covered in blood from head to toe, she is gently holding another man's hand as they cut the birthday cake that should be mine. That man looks exactly like me. Even the scar on his wrist is identical to mine. I barely take a step forward to demand an explanation when a flood of messages suddenly explode across my vision. "The male supporting character is hilarious. He's just an adopted stand-in. Why's he getting jealous of the main character?" "Just wait. Later, he goes completely insane trying to compete for affection. The female lead will break his arms and legs, then have him admitted to a mental hospital. Serves him right!" The blood in my veins turns to ice. Luna spots me. Her first reaction is to shield the man protectively behind her. Then she snaps coldly, "Don't make a scene. Jeremy is my real brother. I'll explain everything later." Jeremy? We have the same name and the same scar. I really am the perfect replacement.

Before my son entered university, he gave me a list of necessities he needed for school. Everything from a laptop costing 2,000 dollars to a phone at 1,000 dollars. Even the cost of traveling amounted to almost 10,000 dollars. My head pounded at the staggering figure. My mom had been hospitalized and was in urgent need of money. 10,000 dollars was a huge sum. I asked if I could give him 5,000 dollars first. My son’s face darkened in an instant, and he yelled at me for being stingy. He even wrote a lengthy post scolding his own family on social media. The next day, I read the post while at work. Someone even threatened to kill me. [A parent like you should die!] I read the latest post my son wrote, and my heart grew cold. In that case, there was no need for me to keep the truth a secret.

She cupped my face in her hands and said, slow and deliberate, "We're going to make a promise. Starting tomorrow, you'll draw one sun a day in your notebook. No skipping, no cheating—you have to fill it with thirty thousand suns. Only when you've drawn the last one can you come find me."

Our butler, Cal Pinkham, was determined to marry his daughter off to some rich young heir and have him take her family name. So, when my nearsighted son, Christopher Settle, who was working on his PhD, accidentally glanced at his daughter one too many times, Cal somehow convinced himself that Christopher had fallen for her. His daughter was forty, unemployed, and still needed her food blown cool and spoon-fed to her at meals. Even so, Cal kept trying to parade her in front of me like a prize whenever the opportunity presented itself. “Becky looks like the cutest little piglet when she eats. She’s absolutely adorable. I took pictures. Here, take a look. You wouldn’t understand the joy of having a daughter, not when you only have a son. These days, daughters are the ones who actually show up for their parents when they get old. “But don’t you worry. As long as your son takes my family’s last name, gives us a $100,000 wedding gift, and agrees that their children must have our last name too, I’ll even let my precious little girl look after you in your golden years too.” I shoved his hand away in disgust and immediately called the agency to find me a reliable replacement butler. Before I could find a suitable replacement, the $15,000 designer necklace I had bought for Christopher suddenly went missing. I confronted Cal about it. He answered without a hint of guilt. “Oh, I took it. We’re practically family now. Anything you buy for Christopher will belong to Becky sooner or later anyway. I just cashed it in early and used the money to buy your future daughter-in-law a car, so she won’t have to ride around on that scooter anymore in the rain or cold. Christopher would never stand for seeing her like that.” He waggled his eyebrows at me, teasing as if we were sharing some private joke. I was so furious I nearly saw red. “Who cares about that overgrown pig you call a daughter?” Then, I picked up my phone and called the police.

In my past life, news from high society circulated about a single, wealthy heiress who searched for a single man who could complete 14 days of inedia. My roommate, Chad Kranz, was convinced that she secretly searched for her future husband. Chad wanted to become rich and powerful quickly, and he did not hesitate to shut himself inside our dorm room to fast. On the night of his 14th day, he went into shock and stopped breathing. The sight scared me so much that I forced half a bottle of glucose down his throat, and I carried him on my back to the emergency room late in the night. Chad survived, and he gained 300 pounds from imbalanced hormones and became paralyzed. His family vented their anger at me in front of the media. They shouted, "There was only half a night left! If you had not made him fail with that mouthful of glucose, my son would have become the son‑in‑law of a wealthy family! You stopped my family from becoming rich! We will make you pay with your life!" They forced me to give up my placement in postgraduate studies, and they seized my family's property. They even pushed me toward death by demanding millions in compensation. When I opened my eyes next, I had returned to the 14th day of Chad's inedia process. He sat cross‑legged on the bed while he mumbled with reddened eyes, "I'm about to achieve a breakthrough with a new life. Anyone who stops me from marrying into a wealthy family will be punished!" This time, I slowly chewed my hard‑boiled egg and said, "Do not worry, Chad. I'll be the first to stop anyone from preventing you from marrying into a wealthy family!"

After discovering that my CEO wife, Sabrina Greyson, was putting her divorced best friend, Martin Crawford, and his child over our family, I started teaching our son Leo to call her ‘Ms. Greyson’. Martin called Sabrina away late at night when Leo had a fever, and she went. I touched Leo's hot forehead and asked him to bid her goodbye. We had agreed to accompany Leo to his school’s parent-teacher meeting when Martin called in tears, saying that his son, Teddy, did not have a mother to accompany him. Sabrina just left without hesitation. I did not even look up as I handed my phone to Leo, asking him to pose as Sabrina and make up an excuse in the parents' chat group for why she could no longer make it. Leo hesitated for ages, like he did every time. Eventually, Sabrina finally realized her indebtedness to us and proposed that the whole family take a family photo together. Outside the photo studio, Martin called again, sobbing down the line, "Sabrina, could you pick Teddy up from school now? The other kids at kindergarten are making fun of him for not having a mother..." Pity flashed across Sabrina's face. She was about to squat down to explain to Leo, but he waved her off without me needing to remind him. "It's okay, Ms. Greyson. You can accompany that other kid you have outside. Dad and I are the only people needed in the Norris family photo."

My mother was a veteran HR director, so she built a performance scorecard for my entire childhood. A perfect test score earned me ten minutes on my phone. Finishing first in school earned me a milkshake. Whatever I wanted, I had to earn with grades. After I entered Crestmont Institute of Technology, I spent three straight years at the top of my program. According to her rules, that was worth one thousand dollars. When I came home, she tossed a single dollar bill at me. "So what if you're still first? Your GPA has slipped by a tenth of a point every year. You have the nerve to ask for a reward?" Beside her, my brother lounged with the keys to his new Hawthorne sedan spinning around one finger. My stomach sank. "When I got into Crestmont Tech, you said I wasn't valedictorian, so all I deserved was a used scooter. "Why does he get a new car for barely making it into community college..." Mom's eyes flashed. "You and Tyler are completely different. "He went from having no chance at college to getting accepted somewhere. That's progress. You're moving backward. "Since you've chosen to coast, I'm cutting off your living expenses next semester. We only invest resources in people who improve. "Raise your GPA by finals, then come trade your grades for money." I walked outside without another word and made a call. "You really are me, ten years from now. You were right. Her performance system only applies to me." Future me answered calmly. "Tomorrow, sell the artwork Dad left you. Three of the pieces are genuine old masters. "Put every dollar into your research project. No matter what anyone says, don't abandon it. That project is your way into Crestmont's tech elite. "Let this family lose a future multimillionaire over one thousand dollars."

When my fiance, Evan Ziegler, and I wake up, the world as we know it has already ended. He's now the commander of the safe zone, and I'm clinging to his arm, pleading with him. "Don't send me out. There are infected people everywhere out there." However, he merely stands on a high platform. His expression is icy as he announces, "Resources are limited in the safe zone. Zoe is frail and has to stay. As for Daphne, she should be sent to the contaminated zone as bait since she doesn't have any abilities." I'm bound and stuffed into an armored truck. Right before the doors shut, Evan's first love, Zoe Lodge, gives me a gentle smile while nestled in his arms. She says, "Don't worry, Daph. I'll take good care of Evan for you." I lose all hope. Then, to my surprise, the satellite phone I've been carrying, which hasn't had any signal so far, suddenly lights up. It's a message from my brother, Dominic Sadler. "Daphne, how's the stay at our apocalypse experience center? Have you figured out what kind of man your fiance really is yet? Hurry up and give me the verdict. We hired over 3,000 extras, and they've been cooped up in the underground base for a month. They're about to lose their minds."

Within hours of my birth, three dogs in our neighborhood died. My parents became convinced it was some kind of omen. They went to a self-proclaimed psychic, who told them I had been born to suffer in my younger brother's place. From that day on, every time something went wrong in my life, they treated it as proof that I was protecting him. Years later, on my birthday, I came down with a fever of 106 degrees. I could barely keep my eyes open. Mom still hauled me out of bed and dragged me into the bathroom. "Get up! Your brother has an important exam tomorrow, and you need to pray that nothing goes wrong." She turned on the shower and shoved me under the freezing water. My whole body started shaking. "Mom, please… I'm so cold." "Then stop being so weak." She looked at me with open disgust. "Your brother is going to make something of himself. You're the one who's supposed to suffer in his place. If you can't even handle a fever, what good are you? I should've let you die the day you were born!"

When I heard my younger brother was bringing his girlfriend home, I took annual leave, bought gifts, and flew back for the occasion. The moment I arrived, I found my luggage dumped carelessly outside the front door. My parents looked surprised to see me, but quickly recovered. "Ryan's girlfriend only wants to marry an only child, so we've been telling people Ryan has no siblings. You need to stay somewhere else for now and introduce yourself as a distant cousin from now on. "Don't blame us. Everything in this family will belong to your brother eventually. A daughter leaves when she marries." As they spoke, Ryan tossed the last of my belongings outside as though they were trash. "Finally. All that junk was an eyesore." My fingers slowly tightened around my purse, which still held the heavy gold bracelet I had bought as a welcome gift. Fine. Since I was only a distant cousin, they could stop living in my house. I turned around and pulled out my phone. "Hello. I'd like to sell the house in Maple Gardens. List it twenty thousand below market."

It's my seventh year of being homeless when Mom and I meet again in a five-star restaurant. To celebrate a certain fake heir's birthday, Mom generously picked up everyone's tab at the restaurant, spending a million dollars. Meanwhile, I'm wearing an ill-fitting clown costume and performing various funny stunts for the guests. After the performance, Mom eyes my winded state and scowls as she snaps, "This is the best you could do after you left without leaving a note all those years ago? You're an embarrassment to the Jacobson family!" I flash her a professional, disingenuous smile. "I'm afraid you've got the wrong person, ma'am. A tip is welcome, though, if you liked my performance." I wish I had the sense to leave my family all those years ago. If I had, I might not have been pushed off a cliff by Darren Jacobson and nearly fallen to my death. Now, I've stopped holding out for what little kinship was left between my family and me. Mom throws the 200-dollar tip meant for me on the floor, then storms off. I pick up the bank notes and run my hand along my cold prosthetic, secretly relieved. Finally, I have enough money for a new prosthetic. Thank goodness.

My wife, Elena Shaw, brought home a baby girl and told me she was the orphaned daughter of a distant cousin. She asked me to raise her as my own. However, I knew the truth — the girl’s biological father was the man who killed my father. I wanted to throw her out. Then, Elena showed me a single photograph. The moment I saw it, I accepted the child without another word. For twelve years, I washed her clothes, cooked her meals and sent her to an elite private school. I never scolded her, even when she pointed at me and called me a pathetic coward. Our relatives all said that I had lost my mind. Then, on her thirteenth birthday, Elena asked me to sign over my shares of the company. My mother fell to her knees and begged me not to sign, but I simply smiled and took out that same photograph. She looked at it only once before pressing her thumbprint onto the document herself. The entire room erupted into chaos.

I have the ability to see how people will die. The day my divorce is finalized, I'm hit by an electric scooter and sent flying. When I wake up, I see a line of text above the nurse's head. It reads, "27 years old. Breast cancer in eight years." I pick up my phone. The first name in my contacts is my ex-wife, Caroline Meyer. After a moment's hesitation, I open her social media. Her latest post shows her and her new boyfriend vacationing in Marencia, captioned, "Forever starts with you." The location tag says it was posted three hours ago. We only finalized our divorce the day before. Later, I get a voice message from my daughter. "Daddy, Mommy says I can't go to her new house anymore. Her boyfriend doesn't like kids." I clutch my phone and head out to pick her up, only to run into Caroline's father, John Meyer, outside the apartment building. Above his head, the words read, "62 years old. Carbon monoxide poisoning in three months." The moment John sees me, he starts yelling. "What a loser! My daughter should've divorced you years ago! Her new boyfriend is young, handsome, and owns three houses. What do you have?" I glance at the words above his head, then slowly delete the warning text message I'd already typed out. After that, I take my daughter's hand and say, "Come on. I'm taking you out for burgers."

A man by the name of Michael Burke shows up one day. He gathers four of us who had grown up in the orphanage and introduces himself as the secretary to John Ferguson, the richest man in town. According to him, John's real son had been mistakenly switched as a baby 20 years ago. Anyone who can prove that he's the long-lost son will get to inherit the Ferguson family's entire billion-dollar fortune. The first time around, Luke Carter, ever the manipulative schemer, tricks me into handing over the locket I've had since arriving at the orphanage. He uses it to prove his identity to the Fergusons, but they end up ripping him into pieces. "You're a fake!" Somehow, the four of us are reborn after that. This time, Simon Davis, whose friendship was superficial at best, gets a tattoo of my birthmark and uses that to claim that he's the Fergusons' long-lost son. They end up skinning him alive. "We know you're a fake!" Third time isn't the charm. Tom Egan, my archrival, takes out a loan and pays for plastic surgery to give himself a face that resembles Mrs. Ferguson's. However, the Fergusons throw him into a cage and let a ferocious dog maul him to death. In our fourth life, all three of them are too scared to usurp my identity. They immediately deliver me right to the Fergusons' doorstep. When everyone sees the DNA report that proves I'm the Fergusons' long-lost son, they think that their nightmare has finally ended. But on my very first night back home, the Fergusons push me off the balcony. "Anyone who tries to steal our son's identity deserves to die!" … My eyes open yet again. Michael is standing in front of us, smiling as he asks which one of us is the Fergusons' son. Everyone backs away in horror, insisting that it's not them. "But we've already looked into it. We know that the family's long-lost son grew up in this orphanage," Michael says, his voice strangely ominous.

I was a ghost hunter. My client had bought a haunted manor. Everyone who moved inside ended up losing their minds, so they paid me a huge sum to exorcise the place. However, I had a feeling that I had bitten off more than I could chew. After moving in and fighting against the evil ghost for half a year, I could not handle it anymore and decided to move out to rest for a bit. Before my mind even cleared up completely, Ronald Durkin, my uncle, called me. “Apollo, Jessica just finished sitting for her SATs. I want the entire family to go with her on her graduation trip, but hotels are just too expensive. I heard that you rented a huge manor in the capital. Why don’t you let us stay there?” He then gave me some money, saying that it was rent. When I checked, I found that he had only given me a single cent. My mouth twitched, but I still patiently explained the situation to him. “Uncle Ronald, the manor is haunted. No one can move inside. Why don’t I give you three thousand dollars so that you could book a hotel?” I certainly did not expect him to hang up on me without another word and tag everyone in the family group chat. [Guys, everyone will be going dutch for the trip this time. Apollo will be providing us free lodgings in a ten thousand square feet manor in the capital.] The family group chat went wild, and everyone praised me for being a good boy. I simply could not laugh along with them. That place was uninhabitable!