Maikling Kwento at Nobelang Emotional Realism

The day SAT scores dropped, my twin sister Emily totally tanked. She cried so hard she could barely breathe. Mom, Dad, and Kenneth spent all night babying her. After midnight, Mom finally remembered I existed. "Amelia, what'd you get?" I checked my score. 1580. "Good enough for Halston." Halston was one of the best colleges in the country. The whole room went dead silent. For one stupid second, I thought they might actually be proud of me. Dad just stared. "You and Emily are twins. You look almost exactly alike. "Why don't you switch identities? "Let Emily go to Halston as you."

Frank Carter has been my private driver and personal assistant for the past three years, but lately he has become impossible to deal with. I ask him to pick up fresh seafood for dinner, but he comes back with nothing more than a bag of frozen shrimp and a few sausages. "Frank, didn't I ask you to buy fresh seafood from the market?" He tosses the grocery bag onto the counter and shrugs. "The seafood isn't fresh today. I'll check again tomorrow." The next day, he comes back with a bottle of Worcestershire sauce. "Seafood's expensive," he says with a grin. "This is premium Worcestershire sauce. Just a splash of this, and the food will taste just as good." I sigh. "You don't have to worry about the cost. We can afford to have seafood every now and then." But things only get worse. Over the next week, Frank keeps bringing home cheaper groceries. Soon, seafood disappears from the menu altogether, along with any decent cuts of meat. Just as I'm debating whether to grab a proper meal somewhere, I overhear Frank talking on the phone in the garage. "Lucas Reed is such a loser. He doesn't deserve a wife like Vivian Grant. Once I introduce my son, Mike Carter, to her, she'll dump that freeloader in no time. Mike will take his place soon enough." I almost laugh. I've been planning to renew Frank's contract for another year. I even plan to help his newly graduated son land a job at Vivian's company. Well, not anymore.

I could see floating live-chat comments from the future. And that little trick saved me from dozens of cheating scumbags. But today, my adoptive parents gave me an ultimatum. I had to pick a fiancé, or else… The family’s real daughter, Wendy Wellington, who was recently found and welcomed back with open arms, clutched my hands. Tears welled in her eyes as she pointed to a man in a wheelchair. The man, Harry Peterson, wore a faded undershirt and a tattered blanket over his knees. Word on the street was that he had gone bankrupt, owing over a hundred million dollars. "Sister, my health is too fragile for a hard life," Wendy sniffled while trying to hide her smirk. "What would people say if the real heiress was seen riding a public bus? “You’re so much stronger than me. Do this one for the sake of the family." She glanced over at a guy leaning against a blood-red Ferrari nearby. "I’ll handle the billionaire’s son," she added quickly. "You shouldn't be blinded by money to make a mistake." I looked at Harry in the wheelchair. Floating right above his head was a wall of glowing comments. “LOL! She’s dumping the city’s richest hidden billionaire for a guy who’s going to prison next week?” “He’s only playing broke and disabled to catch his rivals off guard. Once he clears his name next month, his net worth is going to skyrocket!” I squeezed my sister’s hands tight and a sweet smile spread across my face. "Since you've put so much thought into my future, I would hate to disappoint you," I said. "I'll take the guy in the wheelchair.”

When my long-lost, wealthy family tracks me down, I thought my years of suffering were finally over. Then, a so-called accidental car crash happens. I wake up able to hear everyone's thoughts. My mother, Mandy Newman, gently strokes my forehead, yet in her mind, she complains, "Why didn't she end up in a coma? It would've been much easier to take her heart that way." My father, Carl Jenkinson, prays, "Please don't let her heart be damaged. The people Victor hired are completely useless. We should've taken it while she was still unconscious." My two-faced sister, Mia Jenkinson, screams internally in tears, "System, scan her heart now! My new heart cannot have the slightest damage!" A chill runs down my spine as the truth comes crashing down on me. It turns out my parents have approved of the car accident my fiance, Victor Stark, orchestrated. They have searched tirelessly for me all these years, not to give me a home, but to carve out my heart and save their precious fake heiress. Fine. If this is the game they're playing, I have no reason to play nice.

Three days before the start of summer break, Mom sends a screenshot of nine train tickets to the family group chat. "We're not just going to hang around at home this year. The whole family's going to stay at your apartment for summer break." A few seconds later, she sends another message. "Aunt Elise and her family are coming too. There's going to be a lot of people, so clean up the master bedroom and let them stay there. Since you're still working during that time, you can stay in your company's break room for a few days." I stare at the messages in stunned silence. I'm renting a two-bedroom apartment by myself. I'm also paying for all the rent, utilities, property management fees, my parents' living expenses, and even my sister Tiffany Roth's livestreaming equipment. Five minutes later, I receive a notification from my bank. 2,680 dollars has been charged to my card to reserve a private room for a welcoming party. A note is attached to the transaction. "For the Roth family's welcoming party in New Grandia." Mom then sends me a voice message. "Everyone in the family knows you're enjoying a lavish lifestyle in the big city. Don't embarrass us in front of them." I reply, "Okay." I hope that they'll be able to maintain the same attitude once they arrive in New Grandia.

The day I got my acceptance letter from Aldercrest University, I saw myself seven days into the future. "After Mom and Dad saw that Aldercrest took me, were they proud of me? "Did Cameron and Evan finally stop saying I couldn't measure up to Tessa in any way?" I couldn't keep the hope out of my voice. What answered me was a bitter laugh. "No. "When they found out Aldercrest accepted me, Tessa couldn't handle it and ran away from home. "She was gone all night, and the family spent that whole night blaming me. For showing off. For not applying to the same school as her. "After they found her, Mom and Dad took us on a trip to cheer her up, and we ran into a mudslide. "Every one of them abandoned me to protect Tessa, right when I was about to be rescued." Her voice faltered, and grief came over her face. "They rushed a frightened Tessa to the hospital, never knowing I'd already been dead for twenty-four hours. "You've seen how I end up. Whether you tell them is up to you."

The night I earned admission to West Point, my younger brother, who had envied me since childhood, deliberately started a fight and seriously injured someone. When the victim's family came demanding answers, my parents dropped to their knees and begged me. "You've always been more capable than your brother. You can still rebuild your future." "But if Mason goes to prison, his whole life will be ruined." I gave in and took the blame, destroying everything I had worked for. My girlfriend, Vanessa Hale, despised Mason for constantly causing trouble. "Julian, you big idiot. "If you ever clean up another one of his messes, I really will leave you." Her eyes reddened behind the prison visitation glass as she defended me. Through three years in prison and monthly visits, she kept promising we would marry as soon as I was released. By the time I got out, my parents had moved to a new house. After a long search, the person who opened the door was Vanessa. Mason casually wrapped an arm around her waist and looked at me with open provocation. "Julian, let me introduce you to my fiancee." My parents stood nearby, rubbing their hands together. "They genuinely love each other. Don't try to take your brother's happiness away." Vanessa lowered her eyes and turned the new diamond ring on her finger. "You have a felony record now. If I married you, our future family would live under that shadow." Mason leaned closer with a grin. "Julian, I'm the better man now." I squeezed the crumpled West Point admission letter in my pocket and smiled too. Some debts had finally come due.

Three days after the college acceptances came out, my parents rented the biggest banquet hall in town to throw my sister, Makayla, a party. The hotel manager asked whose names should go on the invitation header. Mom didn't even hesitate before filling in Makayla's. "Just write Makayla's. She's had it tough since she was little, and she worked so hard to get into nursing school. At least now she has a bright future ahead of her." Dad was sitting right beside her, carefully picking out the seat right in the middle of the head table for Makayla. "Makayla will sit here. That way, guests will see her as soon as they walk in. It'll let everyone know the Martins haven't mistreated her." Seeing me remain silent, my brother Jason dropped his usual harsh tone, softening his voice for once. "Emma, don't overthink it. We're just leaving your name off this time. "Everyone knows you've always gotten good grades. Putting your name on it will only upstage Makayla. If guests start asking questions, imagine how embarrassing that'd be for her." It wasn't until it came time to pay the deposit that Mom finally glanced at me with a frown. "Come early on the day of the banquet and stand by the entrance to welcome everyone. Your sister is timid and doesn't know how to entertain people." "Another thing, if anyone asks how you did on your exam, just say you did fine. Don't say anything that'll make people feel uncomfortable." I kept my head down, staring at the text message on my phone that no one in this room cared about. [Emma Martin, you have passed the final selection for the Green Ear Project.] It turned out that in their eyes, the bright future I fought tooth and nail for didn't even compare to Makayla's nursing program. Since my name wasn't on their invitation, I guessed they didn't belong in my future.

When my wife, Whitney Novak, abandoned me on the mountaintop once again to rush off and take care of my younger brother, Aaron Novak, I was kidnapped on my way home. For three days and three nights, I endured unimaginable torture. The one call I managed to make for help was coldly hung up on. The day I finally dragged myself home, battered and covered in wounds, my family was celebrating Aaron's latest achievement. Whitney frowned in irritation. "Today's supposed to be a celebration. Who are you trying to disgust by showing up looking like that? Are you trying to make everyone think we've been abusing you?" My family looked at me with nothing but contempt. "You're worthless. You'll never measure up to Aaron. It should've been you who died instead." Later, they got exactly what they wanted. I really was dying. But if I was nothing more than a worthless failure, why were they crying?

My son, Damian Stone, has mild asthma. The doctor has recommended that he train his lungs through light swimming, and it so happens that Damian loves swimming. I've donated five million dollars to Damian's school for a temperature-controlled swimming arena and full-range purifier system because of this. I've even paid a professional safety officer to disinfect and keep an eye on the arena daily. But one day, when I head to Damian's school earlier than usual to pick him up, I find him locked up in the equipment room. He's soaking wet and has his arms wrapped around his trembling knees while using his inhaler. The doors of the swimming arena I've donated have a notice stuck on them that reads: "For Timothy's private use only. No freeloaders allowed."

Three years after my parents’ divorce, I ran into my sister while I was performing on the streets. She stepped down from a city management vehicle and froze for a moment when she realized the person working so hard to breathe fire was me. She walked toward me, her steps slightly uneasy. “You’re affecting public order. You’re coming with us.” After I finished giving my statement, my mother arrived too. She paid my fine for me, then handed me a bank card. “Stop embarrassing yourself out here. Take this money and find a school to attend again.” I did not move. When I finally spoke, my voice was hoarse and unpleasant. “Where were you when Dad and I needed you the most?” My harsh words made my sister frown. “Everyone had their own struggles back then. You don’t have to blame Mom for everything.” My mother’s expression darkened as she began lecturing me, “Why are you just as stubborn as your father? If you had come with me, would you have ended up begging on the streets? Tell your father that as long as he admits he was wrong, I’ll acknowledge you as my son again.” I looked at them, but the words were stuck in my throat. Did they really not know that my father had already died three years ago?

From the day I was born, Mom never treated me like her daughter. I was Catherine Baldwin's older sister, the example Mom used to keep her in line. When Catherine stole ten dollars from Mom's purse to buy stickers, Mom made me stand facing the living room wall all afternoon. Then she pointed at me and told Catherine, "Look at Allison. For every dollar you steal, she stands there for an hour. You do the math." When Catherine refused to eat her vegetables, Mom stopped giving me breakfast for three days. I got so hungry that I snuck into the kitchen and ate cold leftovers straight from the fridge. When Mom caught me, she didn't yell. She simply turned to Catherine and said, "See how hungry Allison is? Keep being picky, and you'll be the one who goes without food next time." When Catherine started dating in middle school, and a teacher caught her passing notes to a boy in class, Mom sent me to the school in her place. She made me stand in the main office and read Catherine's written apology aloud in front of the teachers. Halfway through, my voice gave out. Mom snatched the paper from my hands and finished reading it herself, slowly and clearly, making sure everyone heard every word. Afterward, she pulled me into the hallway and said, "Catherine has a reputation to protect. I couldn't let her be humiliated in front of her teachers. You're her sister. It's your job to take the fall for her." I was 15, and Catherine was 13. By then, I had already been punished for her, gone hungry for her, and humiliated myself for her. It took me years to realize that was only the beginning. The worst was yet to come.

On my birthday, my father posted a roulette to the family group chat. He said the prizes would be given on the spot. I was nervous as I'd been very much looking forward to the Syldan trip. My brother smiled. "You first, birthday girl." I spun the wheel, and it stopped at "Stay at home". Everyone else got "Flight ticket to Syldan". Claire Zimmer, my adopted sister, murmured quietly, "Can I give Theodora my ticket, Dad?" My brother interrupted, "No. Rules are rules. Besides, you've been looking forward to this! You can't miss it!" My mother smiled. "You're a good girl, Theodora. Stay home. We'll bring some gifts for you." I said it was okay. After all, it was just my luck. Then, my father took out four tickets from his pocket and gave them to everyone with a smile. The tickets already had their names on them. I froze. It was then that I remembered that the same thing had happened during the room split three years ago. Claire got the main bedroom, while I got the dark and humid storage room. As a result, I'd been in frail health since then. I knew right then that I didn't have rotten luck. The roulette was rigged so I would never ever get the good prizes. There was no point spinning any more wheels. I quietly went back to my room and texted my mentor, "I'm up for the four-year secret project in the Gaulian Sands, professor."

At seven in the evening, Summit Highway is fully closed in both directions. I'm working through the night to move my flock when a pink Mercedes G-Wagon plows straight through the barricade at the temporary roadblock. As a result, 29 Suffon breeding sheep, each wearing a specially assigned identification tag, are crushed to death on the spot. Cecilia Shaw holds her nose as she gets out of her car. She kicks aside a sheep that is still twitching and says, "Ugh, this sucks! How dare these worthless sheep block my way? Get rid of them now!" I stare at the pool of blood on the ground as I speak. "You plow through a barricade during a road closure and run over my sheep, killing them. Not only are you not offering to compensate me, but you also tell me to get rid of them?" Cecilia sizes me up with a look of annoyance. "Are you out of your mind? You dare try to extort me? I'm the heiress of Eastport's Shaw Group. "My family controls half of the entire country's fresh produce market. Piss me off, and I'll tell my dad to ensure that not a single pound of lamb from this backwater town ever sells again!" I observe her smug, arrogant expression, then pull out my satellite phone. "In that case, let's have the highway patrol come and determine who's at fault."

I've been sponsoring Bree Webb, a young woman who comes from a low-income background. She's being ostracized at school and begs to move into my home. In my last life, I feel sorry for her and let her in. She repays me by accusing my younger brother, Eric Whitmore, of assault. Because of her, his reputation is in tatters, and he's branded as a rapist. Bree squeezes my family dry, demanding compensation at every turn. Eric then sinks into depression and eventually jumps off a building. She walks away with everyone's sympathy and even has the nerve to taunt me to my face. "Leah, thank you so much. Without you, I never could've gone from nothing to this overnight." Now I'm reborn, and Bree shows up again with the same tearful eyes. "Leah, my roommates are bullying me. I lie awake night after night. The doctor says I'm already showing signs of severe depression." I look at that pitiful face of hers and smile. "Sure. But we're doing this by my rules."

After our coming-of-age presentation, everyone at Hemsworth Hall discussed my twin sister's marriage prospects. My brother pointed to the first name in the kingdom's registry of noble houses. "The heir to House Bellamy is the only man worthy of our Lydia." Our childhood friend, a young marquess, blushed as he offered her his formal proposal. "Ignore your brother. Marry me, and we can spend our lives beside the person who has known us since childhood." Our parents smiled in agreement. "Lydia may marry whomever she chooses, as long as she can remain in the capital." Only much later did they remember that I had also reached marriageable age. "Rosalind, you have neither Lydia's beauty nor her accomplishments. A respectable man without a title will do." My brother answered without even looking up. "That way, everyone can remain near the capital and gather during the holidays." My childhood friend gave a contemptuous laugh. "Once you marry, you can't keep acting on every whim. If you disgrace yourself in public, you'll shame more than the Hemsworth name." Inside my sleeve, my fingers slowly closed around the royal marriage charter. Since no one cared whom I married, I would accept the King's decree.

The company booked a lodge at Osprey Lake for the Labor Day weekend retreat. All 35 other people in the company were invited, and I was not one of them. My team lead even posted a group photo from their kayaking trip in the chat, captioned with "One less person and the boat rides lighter." I did not reply. I turned off my phone, bought some tamales and a beer, went back to my apartment, and slept for 15 hours. When I woke up, I had 203 missed calls. The latest voicemail was my team lead, practically in tears. "Please, man, I'm sorry! Just pick up the phone!" I grabbed another slice and took a bite. I took one weekend off. How was the company already falling apart?

My mother had been a murderer. Her surgery skills had been top-notch, yet on the day my father and I had almost died in a car accident, she turned into another man's arms to help him with a physical therapy massage. After they finished, they went on a date at a cafe while they chatted happily, while my father died on the cold surgery table. It had only been the next day when the staff from the morgue found me on the brink of death. My grandmother raised me with her callused hands for the past 40 years. She put me through the best medical schools, and when I became the hospital's medical director, a young man was admitted to the hospital after he had been involved in an accident. His wife grabbed my hand and begged me, "You're the only person who can save my husband, Dr. Corbin!" I read his medical records carefully, and I was taken aback when I saw his name and address. I stared at his picture for a long time before I looked up and replied softly, "I'm sorry. I can't save him."

On New Year’s Eve, I ran after my sister, Yelena Smith, who had left the house in anger. However, a bunch of thugs dragged me into an alley. The torture ripped me apart, both inside and out, and I had been living with severe PTSD ever since. I tried to hurt myself countless times. My sister would grab my hand as I held the knife and drive it into her own body. It was as if she was punishing herself. For every cut I made, she gave herself two. Our blood would mix while she held me and cried. “Felix, please! I’m begging you. Stop hurting yourself! “I swear I’ll heal you!” After that night, my sister, who had always been careless and aimless, seemed to become a different person. She burned her racing cars, which she used to be so proud of, to ashes. She also started studying, which she used to hate. It took her five years to become a chief psychiatrist. However, just when I was finally starting to get better, I heard voices outside my door. “Miss Smith, your acting’s too convincing. If I hadn’t known the truth, I would’ve never thought that you hired those thugs. “To avenge your step brother, you’ve been interfering with Felix’s recovery with medication while guilt-tripping him with love just to make him suffer. Aren’t you being too cruel?” My sister let out a dismissive snort. “He bullied Julian like that in the past. He deserves every bit of this. “But I know my limits. Felix is still my biological brother after all. I’m just teaching him a lesson. I could never bring myself to make him end his life.” I felt like I had fallen into an ice-cold abyss. I even forgot to breathe for a moment. Everything turned out to be my sister’s punishment all along. That night, I dragged my broken body up to the rooftop. ‘Yelena, you don’t have to punish me anymore this time,’ I thought.

My younger sister, Melody Judd, and I are twins. We look alike, and our bodies work much the same way too. Because I'm in the wrong position during birth and delay the delivery by a few minutes, Melody doesn't get enough oxygen and grows up frail. From then on, I became her "test subject". When Melody, who is allergic to peanuts, wants a peanut butter sandwich, Mom shoves a handful of peanuts into my mouth. My whole body swells up, and I end up in the ER at 2:00 am to have my stomach pumped. On the day I graduate from middle school, Melody wants to get her ears pierced but worries she'll scar easily. Mom buys a piercing gun and puts more than 20 holes through my ears, from my earlobes to my cartilage, just to see if Melody will heal normally. On our 18th birthday, Melody, who has always been afraid of water, suddenly decides she wants to learn to swim. Without hesitation, Mom pushes me into the sea. "Go try it out for your sister," she says. "See if she can overcome her fear and learn to swim." As the waves swallow me, I smile. This is the last time, Mom. You've brought me into this world. Now, I shall repay that gift with my life.