قصص وروايات قصيرة عن Feel-Good Story وتدور في Awakening

I jump off the seventh floor on my wedding day. Why? Because everyone has abandoned me to pick up a fake heiress from the airport, my fiancé included. I expect to see them riddled with heartbreak and regret after my death. However, my father merely shakes his head stoically and looks at my body while saying I was too willful. My mother bites her lip and sighs in relief. My fiancé, Magnus Gilmore, shields the fake heiress. He's afraid she'll see the horrible state of my body. The fake heiress is scared to tears at this, and everyone crowds around her to console her. No one cares whether I'm still breathing while lying in a pool of blood. I'm stunned when I see this, but I soon laugh self-deprecatingly. When I open my eyes again, I've been brought back seven years in the past. It's the day I've just stepped foot at home.

My younger sister, Ivy, was engaged to Nathan, the heir to the Silver Moon Pack. After Nathan and I drank laurel wine laced with an aphrodisiac, we lost control and slept together. To preserve the alliance between our packs, Mother had me take Ivy's place. Nathan and I completed the mate bond, while Ivy was sent north to marry its elderly, gravely ill Alpha. On the day of her mating ceremony, however, Ivy's convoy was attacked by rogue wolves. She died at the border. Nathan hated me from that day forward. For more than twenty years, our bond brought me only neglect and humiliation. When I died after a long illness, he did not visit. He sent only one message. "Tessa, stay away from me in your next life." When I opened my eyes again, I was back at the moment the drugged wine was placed in my hand. Before I could react, Nathan snatched the glass away and smashed it against the floor. The moment I saw the way he looked at Ivy, I knew that he had been reborn too. Before the elders of both packs, he took Ivy's hand and announced, "Ivy and I will hold our mating ceremony this month." He led her away without looking at me. Once they were out of earshot, Mother drew me aside. "North Ridge has agreed to an alliance. You'll marry their Alpha." Memories of my final moments flashed through my mind. This time, I decided to give Nathan exactly what he wanted. "All right," I said. "I agree."

I packed the last of my things from the apartment into a box and sent my fiancé, William, a voice message. [Let's break up.] A second later, he replied, [OK.] Across from me, my cousin Mia almost spilled her martini on the tablecloth. "You two were together for seven years, about to get engaged, and it's over just like that? How is it that when I dump a guy, it turns into a whole dramatic saga?" "Still, I have to admire you. Giving up your life as the family’s Princess to build everything from scratch with him." I slowly stirred my coffee, the bitter taste flooding my mouth. "Because he never listens to my voice messages." I tossed my phone onto the table and pushed it toward her. Her eyes landed on the screen, on a long list of unplayed voice messages. For the past seven years, my conversations with William had been a one-way street. The rare 'Mm' from him was the most enthusiastic response I could hope for. I had grown used to his cold nature long ago. Until I saw a long voice message on his phone, played in its entirety. It was from his childhood friend, Tessa. In that moment, I finally let go of the sliver of hope I had been clutching for seven years. And now, it was time for me to return to the Miller family as its heiress.

My world fell apart over an encrypted link from the dark web. My husband, Don Marcello, was there on our marriage bed, pounding into another woman. All the top bosses in North America were watching. He held her in his arms, laughing about me. His fragile, naive little trophy wife who could never leave him. Even the live chat was a stream of insults. Calling me the useless wife who couldn't even get her husband into bed. But the worst part? The way he acted when I found out. He grabbed my chin. Told me the whole disgusting betrayal was just "an act to keep our allies happy." He even let his mistress brag about it to every socialite in the city. My humiliation became their afternoon entertainment. And me—the good wife who washed the blood from his shirts, the woman he decided was too weak to survive without him—I had to smile at family dinners. He didn't know. When he crushed my loyalty like trash under his heel, I had already started making my move. He thought this was his game to win. His hostile takeover. But when the hammer clicks back, Marcello will understand. His "sweet little wife who only knows how to paint" is the one holding the blade to the entire North American underworld.

The year of my college entrance exams, I gave up my acceptance to Harvard for James Carter. But after five years into our relationship, I ended it. Outside the dorm building, I caught him holding Sarah Williams, who was dripping in designer labels, locked in a passionate kiss. James smirked, "You're just a simple farmer. What kind of life could you possibly offer me?" But he seemed to forget that I had bought him everything - from his tailored Tom Ford suit to his Rolex watch. Heartbroken, I walked away. If someone else wanted to be a doormat for him, they could be my guest - I was done. Later, I focused on growing my agricultural business, eventually expanding into space farming. That's when the media uncovered my true identity as the heiress to a multi-billion dollar fortune. Mr. Williams groveled, forcing Sarah to kneel beside him, begging me to consider a business partnership. James, his eyes red from crying, grabbed my sleeve and said he regretted everything.

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

When my parents divorced, their lawyers drafted a custody agreement. My sister and I would live with separate parents, then switch homes at the start of every school year. The handoff happened every August at La Serata, the Moretti family's restaurant. Every year, my parents fought over who got more time with Sofia. "Come to St. Barts with me for Thanksgiving," Mom coaxed. Dad's face hardened. "Sofia is with me this year. She spends the holidays with me." Mom pulled up her calendar. "You dumped her on me for nineteen extra days last year. I get those days back. Every single one." "Two of those days were school overnights. They don't count." Sofia rested her chin on one hand and gave them the helpless smile of a princess burdened by too much devotion. "If only there were two of me." Half an hour later, my parents compromised by booking the trip together. Only then did Sofia glance my way. "What about Emilia?" Dad picked up his water and looked past me. "She's not my responsibility this year." Mom finally met my eyes. "The hotel group closes an acquisition next month. I don't have time for this. St. Gabriel still has rooms in the senior dorm. You'll board there." They had just counted every hour Sofia had spent away from them. When it came to me, they could hand off an entire year without blinking. Under the table, I smoothed the napkin I had crushed in my fist. My phone lit up. [Ms. Harper: Your record puts several top East Coast schools within reach. Westbridge Institute's research scholarship would also be a great fit. Which one is your first choice?] I looked at California on the other side of the map and typed my answer. [Westbridge.] Three thousand miles ought to be far enough to leave my family for good.

My CEO wife insists on taking a young, fresh intern under her wing. She wants to train him personally. She says to me, "Don't overthink this. I just value his potential." She's always been stern and stoic, but she starts dressing in pink and pulling her hair back in high ponytails. On our third wedding anniversary, she and the intern even willfully disappear for 48 hours. When others are searching for her like mad, she shares photos of her riding a carousel and holding cotton candy. She captions them, "I found the purest of joys in the most joyful of places—all because of you!" Our company loses a huge project because of this, and I lose my wife. I slip a divorce agreement between the pages of the intern's application to become a permanent staff member. My wife signs it without even looking and says, "Knowing what Elliot can do, he's more than capable of carrying out the role of a vice president." I calmly hand her my resignation. "You're right. That's why I'll make way for him."

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.

When mafia heir Alaric Gallo had nothing but a dying legacy and a target on his back, I became his wife. I gave him everything. My fortune. My loyalty. I destroyed myself trying to have his baby. Even when I couldn't, he swore a blood oath in my ear. He would love me until death. So when he begged me to sign a "fake divorce" to hide from our enemies, I believed him. Without a second thought. Until I came home early one day. I found another woman in our bed... wearing the silk robe Alaric bought for me. And Alaric was inside her, mocking me. "Alessia, that sweet, stupid, infertile girl. She believes anything I say. She already signed the papers. In a few days, I'll marry you." The sickest part? The woman moaning under him wasn't just a stripper from his club. She was the mother of his secret son. Overnight, my perfect marriage became a joke. The laughingstock of the Chicago underworld. Alaric thought I was weak. A pushover. He thought I'd take his pathetic hush money, cry in a corner, and disappear from his world. He was wrong. Because I'm not just Alessia Ricci. I am Alessia Rinaldi. The hidden heir to Chicago's most powerful syndicate. Alaric wanted a fake divorce. Now, he's going to lose everything. For real.

I was secretly married to Conrad, our company's CEO, for three years. When a photo of us walking out of a house together in the morning was leaked, I called 911 right in front of all the employees. "Officer, the CEO of this company raped me!" I did this because in my previous life, he had sworn to me: "The company is at a critical funding stage. The investors value my image as a highly eligible bachelor. To get this multimillion-dollar lifeline, we just have to compromise a little and hide our relationship from the public." I was soft-hearted back then. I thought the pressure of managing the company was too much for him, so I agreed. But what I got in return was his young assistant, Ivy, spreading rumors that I was a vain, money-hungry woman who had seduced my boss for his fortune. Then she launched a massive online smear campaign, painting me as a shameless opportunist and turning the entire office against me. In the end, I was pushed to the breaking point. Targeted as a toxic gold digger, I was intentionally run over and killed by a crazed hater. Ironically, after my death, Conrad refused to press charges against the online mob. Then he easily slipped a wedding ring onto Ivy's finger. Now, opening my eyes again, I found myself back on the morning we were secretly photographed leaving the house together.

Moments after leading his team to win the Cup, my superstar hockey boyfriend, Grayson, announced an indefinite leave of absence on live TV. Twitter exploded instantly. The team's group chat was in absolute chaos. The captain sent a dozen furious voice memos, chewing Grayson out for treating the team's blood, sweat, and tears like a cheap joke just for some girl. Yet, in stark contrast to his teammates' blinding rage, Grayson's private PR team chat was celebrating. "Let's see how Blair, his glorified babysitter, cleans up this mess." "She spent ten years busting her ass for his career, and Grayson just drops it all for Cici. True devotion." A new junior assistant chimed in quietly: "But if he quits, don't we lose our jobs? I heard the captain just smashed a locker in rage..." Grayson's childhood friend and personal trainer sent a smirking emoji: "You're new. Blair is a top agent who's willingly played our nanny for a decade. No matter what Grayson does, she bails him out. She'll just go groveling to the sponsors and vets as usual." "Bet Blair is smashing her phone in a rage right now, hahaha." Amidst the rapid-fire texts, a voice memo suddenly popped up. It was Grayson's lazy, breathless voice. There was the sound of a party in the background: "Shut up, all of you. I'm busy. You guys are too loud." The group got even more riled up and started to egg Grayson on. "Cici adores you. Just kick Blair and her controlling vibe to the curb. She's thirty now anyway. Probably going deaf and blind in her old age." The chat erupted in laughter. I stared blankly at the screen. I logged directly into the agency's official Twitter account, typed up a statement, and hit send. "Our agency respects Grayson's decision to take an indefinite leave of absence. " "To compensate our brand partners, we are opening a dedicated refund portal today. We will unconditionally refund all prepaid endorsement and cancellation fees incurred during his leave."

On our third wedding anniversary, Kent gave me a gift. A black metal wristband. Cold. Sleek. He called it a new product from his company—a pain-sharing system. The other user was Violet. His "girl bro." The person he was closer to than his own sister. Kent brushed a hand over my cheek, his gaze soft. "Clara, you're too coddled. You should learn from Violet. She's tough." Then he snapped the wristband onto my wrist. So while Violet got a full-back tattoo and an entire sleeve, I felt every single needle. When Violet went wingsuit flying, I collapsed at home. Every bone in my body felt shattered. I threw up blood. While she soaked up attention online as the "extreme sports queen," I was drowning in nonstop pain. Kent sat beside me, holding my hand as he cared. "Just hang in there. Violet's just being herself. As my wife, you should be more understanding." To finally push me over the edge, Violet decided to livestream herself jumping into the ocean to make me die in her place. Their friends couldn't wait to watch. Later, I watched calmly from a hospital room as the system slowly drained the life out of her. Kent looked deranged as he demanded to know why I wasn't dead. Because I had already reversed the system. All her vitality had become the nourishment that sustained me.

I was not a competent Luna. Despite being marked for years, I never managed to bear an heir for Raymond Miller. According to pack tradition, a Luna who could not continue the Alpha bloodline was expected to step down voluntarily, or at least permit other she-wolves to approach the Alpha. But I stubbornly refused. On his deathbed, he held my hand and let out a low, teasing laugh. "Your possessiveness is simply too fierce, Chloe. If there is a next life, I certainly won't choose you as my mate again." I thought he was merely joking, so I deliberately snapped back, "Fine by me. Then I won't bond with you either." Yet, when I opened my eyes again, I had actually returned to the exact day he was choosing a mate for our political alliance. Inside the magnificently decorated hall, eligible she-wolves from all the allied packs held their breath, desperately hoping to be chosen. The Pack Elder smiled warmly at Raymond. "Alpha heir, please take this moonstone necklace that belongs to the future Luna and place it around the neck of the she-wolf you have chosen." Raymond walked directly toward me. I couldn't help but curl my lips into a small smile, thinking that he was playing coy as usual. Even in another life, he would still choose me. But in the next split second, he brushed right past my shoulder. A sharp gasp echoed from behind me. He placed the necklace around the neck of another she-wolf.

After four years of marriage, I was finally pregnant. I was so excited that I called my mom right away to tell her. Her voice came through the phone ice-cold. "You can't keep this baby! Go get rid of it tomorrow!" I thought I had heard her wrong. "What?" She stayed perfectly calm. "Your brother is still in college. This isn't the time for you to get pregnant. If you have a baby, how are you supposed to support your brother? "Your career is going great right now. Work and save up for a few more years. Once your brother graduates, gets a job, and buys a house, it won't be too late to have a kid then." I was stunned, and the words flew out before I could stop them. "I'm not getting rid of it!" Mom exploded. "That baby is a Garrison! Your brother is the one who carries on the Abbott name! Had you sacrificed his future for some Garrison kid? Don't you forget whose name you were born with!" When my brother was in elementary school, I helped him with his homework. When he was in middle school, I worked a part-time job to buy him designer sneakers. When he went to college, I gave him 1,000 dollars a month for living expenses. Now, I was pregnant with a child of my own, and I was still expected to step aside for my brother's future? I was so furious that I actually laughed. Fine. If that was how it was going to be, I would cut them off for good. I hung up and took them off every shared account and authorized user card in my name.

A group of unwelcome visitors suddenly show up at a relative's funeral. The man in the lead claims to be my wife's boyfriend and wants to punish me. Apparently, I'm her fresh-faced lover. I don't want this to turn into a big deal because we're at a funeral, so I tell him we'll settle this after everything's over. Unexpectedly, my wife's boyfriend causes a huge fuss and instructs his men to pin me to the ground, wanting me to get on my knees and grovel at his feet. The rest of my relatives are unmoved by this. They watch as my legs get broken. I sneer and say, "Your girlfriend bought this urn for my mom. She spent a fortune on this, you know!" Sure enough, the man is furious. He clamors and wreaks havoc, ultimately smashing the urn to pieces. "How dare you parasites latch onto my girlfriend and try to exploit her! Don't think you're getting a cent out of her!" What he doesn't know is that the "mom" whose funeral is being held is my wife's mother and my mother-in-law. The funeral that is crashing is hers, and her urn is the one he's just smashed.

I found out I was the villainess of a romance novel called Sunshine Donna when I was already pregnant. For twenty-two years, I'd chased Renato Gatti without a shred of shame. Then came three years of marriage, just the two of us, wrapped up in each other. I'd thought it was everything. Then his true love showed up. According to the story, I was supposed to fall apart. I'd torment the girl, sabotage their relationship, and in the process, destroy myself. A bullet through the forehead. That was how it ended for Gianna Milano. I looked up. Renato was across the room, phone in hand, the ghost of a smile on his lips. He'd met her. Fine. This time, I'd step aside. But when I asked for a divorce— He cried. He begged me to stay. He threw the entire East Coast at the problem, just to keep me from walking out the door.

For the past ten years, all of Boston society had been guessing whether I would end up marrying Alexander Grant, Nathan Cole, or Julian Vale. One of them took care of every problem that came my way. One remembered every allergy I had. One built me an observatory with a view of the whole city. I never once doubted that I was loved. I had always been the spoiled little princess everyone doted on. Then my mother found her older daughter, Vivian Ashford, who had been missing for twenty-two years. Vivian was the one expected to marry into Black Harbor for the Ashford family. To make up for the life she had lost, the three men started asking me to give up a little at a time. Alexander missed the fitting he had promised to come to, because Vivian needed the practice in front of the cameras more than I did. Nathan canceled the follow-up on my old injury because Vivian had a panic attack when she heard about the medical exam before the wedding. Julian booked the entire observatory to make up for my birthday, then, while I sat there alone until closing, sent me a text that read, "You're the sensible one. Go home by yourself tonight." When I got back to the estate, I asked them why none of them had told me beforehand. But Vivian cried and said she didn't want to be the reason they lost me. So Alexander stepped in front of her, Nathan told me to stop upsetting her, and Julian said I shouldn't be using one broken promise to test whether they loved me. As I turned to leave, I heard them making a pact in that room. "Until the engagement is settled, no more coddling Evelyn." "She'll be angry." "She'll sulk for a few days and get over it. She could never bring herself to leave us for real." They weren't wrong. Back then, I really couldn't bring myself to leave. What they didn't know was that I had already let go, and I was never coming back.

When I handed in my resignation, my supervisor said, "Mr. Foster promised to marry you once you made director. You're only one promotion away, so why quit now?" I looked down at my pant legs, the hems still soaked from the puddles outside. "Because of an umbrella." My mind went back to yesterday. Rain was pouring down, and I was stranded at the office entrance without an umbrella. Mark Foster's new assistant, Rachel Lynch, was stuck there too. Mark came downstairs carrying a single umbrella. He didn't hesitate before offering to share it with Rachel. After all, no one would read anything into the two of them being seen together. He looked at me and said flatly, "Erin, because we're together, sharing an umbrella would only get people talking. It's not worth it." I stood frozen for a long moment, watching them walk away beneath the same umbrella. Then I ran straight into the rain. In the ten years Mark and I had been together, he had fallen back on the same excuse more times than I could count. "Since we're together, we have to be careful about how things look." That was why I always came and went alone, while every promotion passed me by. Now, even sharing an umbrella with him was apparently too much to ask. By the time my resignation was official, the rain had eased to a drizzle. This time, I opened my own umbrella and walked away, calm and unhurried. I didn't need his anymore. It was never meant to shelter me anyway.

My husband and I take leave from work to travel to Highland. It's also an opportunity for me to return to my hometown. Unexpectedly, we get into a fight over the itinerary on our first day there. I snap at him when we're standing by the side of the road, but he calms me down. He even coaxes me and offers to pay for a nice meal at a restaurant. When I return to the hotel, I discover that he's run off with my luggage and mobile phone. He even leaves a message telling me to reflect on my mistakes. I borrow a phone to call him, but he doesn't answer. It's freezing in Highland. I'm almost about to die from the frost when I suddenly see sense. I'm not putting up with this anymore!