Cerita Pendek & Novel Best Friend

After I died, the Moon Goddess chose me and gave me a second life. But I had crossed over into a world of werewolves, and my mission was to win the heart of Soren, a notorious charmer who left a trail of admirers wherever he went. He brought me to the rooftop of the tallest building in the city, where countless fireworks bloomed across the sky in unison. "Surprised? I arranged this fireworks show just for you. Do you like it?" The barrage scrolled across my vision: [This is when you pretend to be shy. That's all you have to do.] Shy? Of course I could do shy. I gave him a demure smile, reached up to brush my fingers along his cheek, and gazed at him tenderly. "Surprised, yes. But fireworks are dazzling one moment and gone the next. You're the lasting surprise in my life." With a wave of my hand, the fireworks in the sky rearranged themselves to spell out Soren's name. The air went still. Not even the boom of the fireworks could drown out the hammering of Soren's heart.

My best friend, Genevieve Sachs, has never been a particularly good driver and is always scraping her car against something. So when she buys a parking spot, she chooses the one right between mine and my fiance's. Both she and my fiance get off work earlier than I do, so by the time I come home, Genevieve's car is often parked crookedly across the lines. I have no choice but to leave my car in an open-air lot nearly a mile away and walk home. Genevieve often feels bad about it and comes over to cook for me as an apology. Then, one day, Riverton issues a warning for a heavy rainstorm. Once again, I can't fit my car into my parking spot, so I have to leave it a mile away and walk home through the downpour. By the time I get home, I'm soaked to the skin. My fiance, Logan Poole, is in the kitchen with Genevieve, chatting about what they should have for dinner. The moment they notice how drenched I am, Genevieve sticks out her tongue sheepishly. "Sorry, Keira. I was afraid I'd scratch Logan's car. I'll be more careful about where I park next time." Logan immediately grabs a dry towel and hands it to me. "Next time, just park a little closer to my spot," he says, turning toward Genevieve. "If you scratch my car, so be it. I don't want you to have to keep dealing with this." As always, before I can even say anything, the two of them have already apologized and admitted fault. Suddenly, I feel completely numb to it all. "Okay," I murmur before heading into the bathroom. I peel off my clothes, which are clinging to my skin, and sink into the bathtub. For the next half hour, I soak in the warm water while I can hear their laughter coming from outside. The hot bath is comforting, and for once, having the whole tub to myself feels just right. Somewhere in those 30 minutes, I finally come to a decision. If there's no room for me in that parking spot, I'm not going to fight for it anymore. And if there's no room for me in their relationship, I'm done fighting for that, too.

Someone texted me halfway through the wedding. The message read, "I had sex with your husband. Doesn't matter if you don't believe it." The message hit me like a hammer, and I stood petrified. Then, the texter sent another message, "Second pocket on the inside of his coat. There's a used condom there from last night. Strawberry. We were setting up the room, and one thing led to another. "We did it everywhere. Balcony, kitchen, and even in your car. He's not allergic to women. He'd gladly sleep with someone before marriage. He lied to you." Everything began to spin. I walked ahead, but my movements felt stiff. I felt as if someone was yanking me forward. I approached the aloof, abstinent man I called my husband. The same man who had to think twice before holding my hand. Sure enough, I found a pink condom in his pocket. Gasps and shouts rippled across the hall, while flashes of camera blazed and blinded the scene. I spun on my heel. That was when I saw my best friend Zoe holding up her phone beneath the stage, a gentle smile hanging on her lips. Something bitter and sad filled my heart. It took me standing here, utterly humiliated, to realize that the very thing I spent my whole life fighting for was nothing but a joke.

My childhood friend and I were both prodigies who grew up in an orphanage. I was born with a gift for divination, able to hear the Moon Goddess's oracles and perceive the threads of fate. She was born with an uncanny gift for attracting wealth, her fortune so extraordinary that even a scratch-off ticket could empty the jackpot pool. When we were eighteen, we found a wolf at the edge of our territory, his body covered in wounds. He was Alaric, one of the top contenders for the Lycan throne, brought low by a betrayal on the night that mattered most. I read the omens. My childhood friend pulled together the funds. Together we helped Alaric fight his way back and reclaim everything that was rightfully his. The moment Alaric became Lycan King, the first thing he did was perform the Bonding ceremony with my childhood friend. They were bonded as mates, and before long had brought two remarkably gifted pups into the world. As for me, I had grown weary of life among others and retreated alone into the depths of the forest. Ten years passed. The Crescent Moon Pack was finally welcoming another pup. He was overjoyed. He hired a private helicopter in the dead of night and flew into the forest, imploring me to appear and bless the newborn. Naturally I agreed, and I made my way to the top-floor VIP suite, where I pressed a blessing from the Moon Goddess onto the little princess's brow using moonflower nectar. On my way out, a sudden impulse took hold of me, and I tossed the star dice to read my childhood friend's fortune. The dice hit the floor and shattered, every last one of them, radiating the unmistakable scent of death. Ice flooded my chest. My gaze turned cold in an instant. If my childhood friend had already died, then who was this woman reclining against the headboard of the hospital bed, looking at me with such gentleness?

At the mall, I bent down to pick up my phone. By the time I stood up, my boyfriend and best friend were already thirty feet ahead of me. I had just wanted to call out, but the place that once belonged to me was slowly being closed. They walked side by side, still discussing investment terms I could not understand. It was as though there had never been anyone between them. In college, Sean and Wendy had been the brightest students in the business school. After graduation, they became the youngest deputy CEOs in the investment banking industry. No matter how hard I worked, I could only manage an administrative job at a small company and barely touched the edge of their world. Sean liked to pinch my cheek. "It's okay. Being a little slow is cute, too." Then, he would turn to Wendy, and the two of them could sketch out an entire merger plan with a single glance. Watching them walk away, I suddenly felt exhausted. I didn't want to keep chasing Sean down a road where I'd always fall behind.

Once, I posted a photo of Eugene Chapman and me. He stopped me right there on the street, his face cold as he pushed my phone down. "Louisa, I don't like putting my private life online for strangers to gossip about. Delete it. You don't need to be that desperate for attention." People streamed past us as I fought back tears and deleted the post. Only when the photo disappeared did his expression finally soften. He sighed and pulled me into his arms. "Come on. We just need to live our lives. We don't have to post everything online just to prove something to other people." After that, I never posted about him again. For the next three years, there wasn't a single trace of him anywhere on my social media. When my best friend asked if I even had a boyfriend, I laughed it off and told her Eugene was just a private person. Even our wedding invitations for next month only had a scenic photo on the front. Then last night, a pet influencer's video popped up in my recommendations, and Eugene was in it. He had one arm around a girl and was grinning at the camera, his eyes crinkling at the corners. The post had more than ten thousand comments, almost all of them gushing about how cute Eugene and his girlfriend were together. I went through the account, post by post. The first video of him went up just eight months after Eugene and I started dating. The girl's pinned comment read, [He insists on filming us every single day. It's so annoying.] So Eugene never hated having his life all over social media. He just hated having me in it. I closed the app and texted the wedding planner. [The wedding is canceled.]

After finishing my meal, I went to the cashier counter to settle the bill as usual. It took me longer than usual because the signal was poor. By the time I settled the bill, I could not find Corbin, my boyfriend, or Mabel, my best friend, anywhere inside or outside the restaurant. I called over a dozen times before they finally answered. “You were taking too long, so we just went ahead. “We’re at the Perler bead craft store on the second floor. Hurry up and get over here. The mall was packed and even more crowded than usual for the holiday. The elevator came twice, and both times it was full. So, I gave up and took the escalator instead. By the time I got to the store, every seat at the craft table was already taken. Corbin and Mabel were sitting together, talking about starting at Northbridge University this September and planning out the next ten years of their lives, from graduate school all the way to their doctorates. It was this grand plan for their future, and I had no place in it. They had already made plans to enroll in prestigious universities as early as May. I, however, failed my PSATs and was still considering repeating a year to catch up. Seeing me standing frozen at the door, Corbin said in a helpless tone, “You’re always so slow. Just wait outside for now.” I watched their backs, and a sudden exhaustion washed over me. “Corbin, I’m done chasing you.”

When I am diagnosed with congenital heart disease, I am forced to leave the dance company and give up the career I have spent my entire life working toward. My best friend, Vivian Carter, steps into my place, promising to fulfill my dream in my stead. My boyfriend, Ethan Bennett, proposes to me on the spot. He swears that no matter what happens to me—or what becomes of me—he will never leave my side. Over the next five years, I devote myself to helping Vivian rise through the ranks until she becomes the company's principal dancer. With my support, Ethan's career flourishes as well. And through it all, they never stop telling me they are searching for a way to cure me. This year, while both of them are busy preparing for an upcoming competition, I go to my follow-up appointment alone. But when I receive the results, I am stunned. There is nothing wrong with my heart. Overwhelmed with joy, I clutch the medical report to my chest and rush home, eager to share the news with them. Then, before I can step inside, I hear voices coming from within. Vivian speaks first. "Evelyn's follow-up appointment is coming up. Are you sure nothing will go wrong?" Ethan's voice is calm and unconcerned. "I already took care of it. Her test results will still show that she has heart disease." He pauses before adding, "Besides, she hasn't danced in five years. Even if she somehow finds out, what can she possibly do?" Vivian lets out a quiet laugh. "You're right." I freeze outside the door. The blood drains from my face as their words sink in. So this is the truth. My best friend and the man who promised to love me forever have been lying to me all along. Every promise. Every act of devotion. Every sacrifice I thought they had made for me. It has all been a lie.

My husband, Julian Harlow, has died, leaving behind a five-million-dollar debt. I decide to inherit his debt right away. However, my best friend, Evangeline Frost, goes crazy from worry because of my decision. In my previous life, Evangeline had advised me to not inherit Julian's debt because he didn't have any assets. So, I signed the agreement to give up on inheriting his assets and declare that I had nothing to do with Julian in order to escape from the debt. But the debtors kept haunting me. They even kidnapped my son, Shawn Harlow, just to force me to pay the debt. The debtors were extremely violent and ruthless. On top of that, they kept using Shawn's safety as leverage over me. Every time they forced me to pay the debt, I felt as though I was being tormented slowly yet painfully. In just 24 hours, I asked all of my relatives for help, but I was only able to gather 100 thousand dollars. In the end, Shawn never escaped from his fate. I was sold to Northreach by the cruel debtors in order for the debt to be cleared. But that was when Evangeline claimed that her own son had finally returned to his roots, thus successfully inheriting the assets of a billionaire. I finally found out that said billionaire was actually my dead husband when I watched the news on the TV. Only then did realization dawn on me. Julian was pretending to be poor this whole time. It turned out that Evangeline's son was actually his illegitimate child. The assets that I had given up all went to Evangeline and her son in the end. Filled with resentment, I tried to escape back to the country in order to settle the score with Evangeline, only to die to the electric fence surrounding the slave camp in Northreach. When I open my eyes again, I've returned to the day Evangeline tells me to give up on the assets.

My best friend, Sydney Cox, is a troublemaker by nature. She thinks everyone around her owes her a good life. During summer break, she insisted on working in a factory. I was worried that she might get tricked, so I let her work in my family's factory out of the kindness of my own heart. In fact, I even gave her the easiest position with the lightest work. But I didn't expect her to think that her salary was lower than that of the veteran employees in the factory, leading to her setting fire to my neighborhood. The blaze was far too strong. Even though the firefighters came as soon as possible, my family and I still ended up dying in the fire. When I open my eyes again, I've returned to the day before Sydney's first day in a factory.

I was afraid of water. But my best friend, Elara Vance, and my boyfriend, Everett Langley, were both competitive swimmers. Whenever they got together, they never ran out of things to talk about. I could never get a word in. The day Everett won the state swimming championship, I forced myself to attend the pool party to celebrate his victory, even though I was terrified of the water. But Elara suddenly grabbed my ankle and dragged me toward the deep end. "Tessa, you've been afraid of water for years. Today, I'm going to help you get over it." Everett let out a helpless laugh. "She's been afraid of water since she was a kid. Go easy on her." I thrashed desperately, trying to grab the side of the pool, but Elara grabbed me and shoved my head underwater. "Don't be scared, Tessa. This is exposure therapy. A few more gulps, and you'll be cured." My lungs burned as I choked on the water. I reached desperately for Everett. He ignored my pleas and gently coaxed me, "I'm the state swimming champion, and you're my girlfriend, but you're too scared to even get in the water. How embarrassing would that be if people found out? Just hang in there. Once you learn, you'll be fine." Elara shoved me underwater again, laughing. "Look at her kicking! This is hilarious. Film this!" Everett pulled out his phone and pointed the camera at me as I thrashed in the water. "Let's save this. We can watch it together once you learn how to swim." The two of them kept laughing and fooling around. By then, I had already lost consciousness and was slowly sinking beneath the water.

During my wedding, someone suggests that we play the game "one dollar and 50 cents". The host will call out an amount that the players will have to match by forming groups. I draw the 50-cent straw, and so does my best friend, Rebecca Cross, who is also the group favorite. My fiance, Ian Chilton, his childhood friend, Richard Price, his older sister, Anne Chilton, and my stepsister, Chelsea Whitmore, all draw one-dollar straws. For the first round, we need to make up a total of 1.50 dollars. I make a beeline toward Ian, but he gazes distractedly at Rebecca. It isn't until he is assured that she won't be eliminated that he finally loosens his painfully tight grip on my hand. Before I can truly feel my disappointment, the second round begins. This time, we need to make up a total of five dollars. Everyone instinctively surges toward Rebecca. I don't pester Ian this time, and he naturally fails to notice that I've been left out. It isn't until the host reminds them that they're 50 cents short that they reluctantly let me into their group. For the third round, we need to make up 2.50 dollars. It's clear that the six of us can conveniently form two groups of said amount, yet they debate heatedly over who gets to be in the group with Rebecca. As time is running out, Richard and Chelsea finally walk reluctantly toward me, having lost in a game of rock-paper-scissors. In the final round, we need to make up 4.50 dollars. As soon as the whistle is blown, they crowd together merrily. Ian even considerately wraps his arm around Rebecca's shoulders out of fear that she'll be jostled. Meanwhile, I'm knocked to the floor by the crowd, my palms digging deeply into splinters sticking out of the wooden floor paneling. From start to finish, nobody spares me a glance. In that instant, everything feels pointless to me. When we played hide-and-seek as children, they only realized I hadn't been "found" after nightfall. When we visited the amusement park as adults, they would always forget to buy my ticket. All things considered, it simply isn't polite to keep trying to fit into a small group that doesn't have room for me.

When my best friend’s husband beat her, my boyfriend and I drove over a thousand miles through the night to get her out. We worked perfectly together. I threw the punches. He blocked the door. My best friend froze for a second, then jumped right into the fight with us. On the drive home, the three of us took one look at the bruises and scratches covering our faces and burst out laughing. But as she laughed, tears began streaming down her cheeks. “You two better not break up. If you do, who am I supposed to choose?” Ryan rolled his eyes from behind the wheel. “We’re doing just fine, thanks. We’re not breaking up. You should worry about yourself.” From that day on, Maya lived with me. I looked after her, helped her get back on her feet, and encouraged her to start a new life. Whenever Ryan saw me fussing over her, he’d jab a finger against my forehead. “Sophie, do you even remember that I’m your boyfriend?” Then I returned from a three-month business trip and found a pink beaded charm hanging in Ryan’s car. No matter how many times I asked, he refused to tell me who had made it for him. My expression hardened. “We’re done.” Then I turned to my best friend. “Come on. You’re leaving with me.” But her face went pale. Instead of coming to me, she walked toward Ryan.

My best friend Chloe and I married into the mob. We married two brothers. I married the monster, Don Adriano. She married his wild younger brother, Lorenzo. It was an arranged marriage. I expected nothing. His heart belonged to his childhood sweetheart, Isabella. Then my father died. My autistic brother, Leo, became my world. I signed over my family’s entire shipping empire to Adriano. He held me that night. Kissed the tears from my eyes. He swore he’d protect us forever. I believed him. That was my mistake. Three days ago, a rival family hit us. They left Leo bleeding out in my arms. I got him to our private hospital. It was empty. Not a single doctor on duty. I called Adriano, screaming for help. He had sent every last doctor to Isabella’s villa. "A storm's coming. Isabella is terrified of thunder. The stress could trigger her heart condition. I can't risk it. Your brother has a scratch. Patch him up. I’ll deal with it tomorrow." He hung up. While Isabella slept safely in his arms, I lost my brother. I cried all night, holding Leo's cold body. When I woke up, I told Chloe I wanted a divorce. She held me, sobbing. She said she was leaving Lorenzo, too. The Moretti brothers didn't know a thing until they were both served divorce papers. Then they went insane.

Connor Greene, a golden boy in Brookhaven, is unwittingly drugged, and I end up being the cure for his "predicament". It's exactly a month later when I discover that I'm pregnant during a routine medical examination. Upon learning the news, Connor offers me 50 million dollars to carry the baby to term, and then another ten million dollars to take full custody of the child. It's then that Julie Sutton, my so-called righteous friend, persuades me to terminate the pregnancy, saying, "You ought to know that money isn't everything, Queenie. If you throw away your dignity for just 60 million dollars, then you're no better than those women who entertain men in clubs!" In my past life, I had an abortion at Julie's suggestion and pursued legal action against Connor, accusing him of assault. I later sought financial assistance and support from Julie after my parents fell gravely ill, but Julie slapped me hard across the face instead. "Your parents are seriously ill, and instead of figuring things out on your own, you come running to me, huh? You're truly shameless, Queenie!" Julie broke off our friendship right then, and I also lost the lawsuit against Connor. I couldn't afford the treatment, so my parents' lives were cut short by their illnesses. In the end, the grief of losing them was too much, so I decided to take my own life by jumping off a rooftop. When I open my eyes, I find myself returning to the day Julie tried to persuade me to get an abortion.

My husband, Tyler West, and I had been childless for five years. Under my best friend, Julia Morse's encouragement, we decided to adopt the child with a so-called tragic background—according to her, anyway. We treated Howard Whitley like our own son and proceeded to raise him for more than a dozen years afterward. Only when Howard came of age did we find out that he was actually the illegitimate son of Julia and a rich man named Alex Saggese. In order to flee from Alex's wife, Catalina Tassi's vengeful acts of assassination, Julia and Howard purposefully lured me and Tyler into riding a car that was tampered in advance. Because of that, we were caught up in a tragic car accident, making us the sacrifice needed for Julia and Howard to shake Catalina off their backs once and for all. To make things worse, Julia and Howard flew overseas and lived lavish lives by spending our money! When I open my eyes again, I've returned to the day Julia keeps convincing Tyler and I to adopt Howard. That's when I feel Tyler gripping my hand tightly, a dark look on his face. Immediately, I realize that he's gotten reborn as well. In this life, we will never step down that path of idiocy ever again!

Before the wedding, the coordinator, Rachel Bennett, called me. "Ms. Lane, we tailored the suit to the groom's measurements. Are you sure you want us to change the size?" "Yes," I said. "The groom's changed." My wedding to Caleb was two days away. I'd chosen the venue, designed the invitations, and picked out both my dress and his suit on my own. Every time I tried to involve Caleb in the planning, he only got annoyed. "You know I'm not into all the ceremony. "Don't bother me with this little stuff." Then yesterday, I found an old proposal video on his computer. It was five hours long. Four of those hours showed Caleb painstakingly setting everything up himself. For the final hour, he excitedly walked a woman through every detail he'd prepared before dropping to one knee. "Nina Sawyer, will you marry me?" Nina. Nina Sawyer. Caleb had always told me she was a childhood friend he'd grown up with. Now she was also my best friend, and she was supposed to be my maid of honor. I gave Rachel the new measurements and watched as she carried the suit away. For some reason, tears suddenly started spilling down my face before I could stop them. She startled and quickly handed me a tissue. "Ms. Lane, are you okay?" I wiped my eyes. "I'm fine. Please have the suit altered as soon as possible. I don't want anything delaying the wedding."

On my wedding day, I jumped from the 38th floor of the hotel. It all started when I got together with my first love, Colin Frey. My best friend, Alice Manning, came to me and said she had bound herself to some kind of love system. She claimed that every guy I dated would fall for her and dump me. I thought she was just messing around and did not believe her. However, just a few days later, Colin came to me and confessed that he wanted to break up because he had fallen in love with Alice. After that, I got smart about it. I stopped telling anyone about my relationships and did not even post anything on social media. Yet, somehow Alice always knew. It was as if she had installed some kind of tracking device on me. No matter who I dated, she would find out. Then, within days, they would all fall head over heels for her and leave me behind. I was completely heartbroken, so I moved back to my hometown to get as far away from Alice as possible. Through my parents' arrangement, I was set to marry a guy through a blind date setup. Yet, on the actual wedding day, he stood up in front of everyone and confessed his love to Alice, saying he wanted to marry her instead. My parents, who were sitting in the audience, were so furious and devastated that they collapsed on the spot. They were rushed to the hospital, but it was too late. They were gone. Meanwhile, Alice was wearing the ring that was supposed to be mine, looking absolutely smug as she boasted, "A man this amazing? As if you deserve him. Now he's mine, so why don't you just step aside like a good girl?" I could not take the blow, so I climbed to the hotel rooftop and leapt off without hesitation. When I opened my eyes again, I was back at the very moment before Alice had ever mentioned that so-called system.

I had been dating my boyfriend, Julian Hayes, for four years, yet my best friend Fiona Blake still looked more like his girlfriend than I did. Whenever the three of us went furniture shopping, the sales associate would hand Julian and Fiona a catalog for couples. Whenever we went out for fondue, the server would ask if Julian and Fiona wanted a photo together. At the beach, a stranger once handed me her phone and asked, "Would you mind taking a picture of your friend and his girlfriend?" I smiled, took her phone, and raised it to take the picture. On the screen, Julian and Fiona looked every bit like a couple. Fiona always brushed it off. "We just have similar face shapes. It's a coincidence." Julian always reassured me. "It doesn't matter what anyone else thinks. You're my only girlfriend." And year after year, I believed him. By our fourth year together, I started pushing him to finally set a wedding date. He said he was too busy and promised we'd set the date the following month. But when the next month came, he had another excuse. Fiona's visa was about to expire. She wanted to stay in the United States, and the easiest way to get a green card was through marriage. I stared at him. "And so?" He was silent for a long moment before finally answering. "I'll marry her first and sponsor her application. It's only a formality. Once she gets her green card, we'll get divorced." For a moment, I couldn't believe what I was hearing. "And what about me?" He answered without hesitation. "Just give me a few years. It'll be over before you know it." A week later, Fiona posted a photo on Instagram. She held up their marriage certificate and leaned against Julian's shoulder, smiling so widely that her eyes crinkled. The caption read, "As of today, it isn't a coincidence. It's fate." I went back through years of messages. That was when I finally realized the truth. Julian had never once told anyone I was his girlfriend. Whenever strangers mistook Fiona for his girlfrien

My best friend, Summer Cortez, is a self-proclaimed independent woman who constantly talks about how much she hates men. Some time ago, she showed up with a heavily pregnant belly and claimed that she'd undergone IVF overseas because she wanted to be a single mother by choice. Today's the day she's discharged from the postpartum retreat. My boyfriend, Adrian Haynes, fusses over her every step of the way, even stocking up on the most expensive baby diapers in advance. He wipes the sweat from his forehead, trying to appease me. "Summer's had it tough. As your boyfriend, it's only right that I help to take care of your best friend." Summer reclines against the headboard, a haughty expression on her face. "If it weren't for Sylvia's sake, I'd never have let a stinking man lay a finger on my baby." I simply smile in return. I'm just about to hand her the generous gift I've prepared for the baby, Noah Cortez's one-month celebration, when Noah blows a raspberry and lets out a tiny coo in the cradle. To everyone else, it's just meaningless baby babble. But to my ears, which had just undergone surgery after a car accident, it turns into a childish voice of complaint. [Daddy's such a good actor. Just last night, he was hugging and kissing Mommy in the bathroom.] The smile on my face instantly freezes. I look up at Adrian, only to find him staring at Summer with unmistakable affection. A cold laugh escapes my lips as I slip the check back into my bag. "On second thought, I had Adrian buy the gifts. Since you're so repulsed by men, I'm sure you wouldn't accept gifts that have been bought by one."