Cerita Pendek Melodramatic & Novel Bias Biological Family

An hour before the registration deadline, I woke up with a start in my hotel bed in Escal. I realized that my boyfriend, Brannon Zimmer, and my adopted sister, Luna Hearn, were both gone. I quickly called them both to urge them to register right away. Instead, I was met with a burst of laughter on the other end. “We’ve flown back home already. We finished applying last night. Haven’t you applied yet?” In the background, I could hear my parents grumbling. “That’s just how she is. She’s so carefree and thoughtless that she doesn’t even pay attention to her own affairs. “Couldn’t she be more sensible like Luna?” It was a lively scene on the other end of the line, but I was shaking with panic. I had almost missed the deadline. After our test scores came out, the three of us had agreed to apply to the same university. Luna had been agonizing over her choice, while Brannon had looked at her with nothing but affection. “No rush. We’ll help you take your time choosing.” Then, he casually told me, “Just go with whatever we pick. Have a blast in Escal these next few days.” Just then, my phone vibrated. Brannon had sent me Southshire University’s application code. “Stop dawdling. The deadline’s almost up.” I stared at the application screen. My eyes stung with tears. My score had been about 120 points higher than theirs. It turned out that no one cared about the “sacrifice” I thought I was giving them. One second before the deadline, I clicked the “Apply” button and chose the one farthest from home, Attarport University. With three of us, it would have been too crowded. So, I stepped aside on my own.

Mom is always very strict with both my elder sisters, Esther and Emily Kingston. She always wakes them up at 5:00 am to make them study. And if they refuse to wake up, Mom will grab an embroidery needle and stab it into my arm. When fresh blood spills out, Esther and Emily will both get a fright and scramble to their desks at once to begin studying. Sometime during the year-end exam, Esther gets one easy question wrong, and I receive ten lashes with Mom's belt. Emily gets only the second-highest score in class, and I am forced to kneel on glass until my knees turn bloodied and torn. Esther and Emily feel sorry for me and fall to their knees, begging Mom to have mercy on me and promising that they will study hard and make her proud of them. Mom smiles happily and says that this teaching method works very well. However, after the SATs, Esther applies for a college out of state, and Emily tells Mom that she is eloping with a young man whom she has fallen in love with. Mom is so angry that she yanks me over and stuffs me into a huge fish tank before beginning to fill it up with water. She then takes a video of me, threatening to drown me alive if they don't listen to her and do exactly as she says. The water keeps rising in the tank. I feel scared, but I don't struggle because Mom always tells me that the only reason for my existence is to be made an example out of for Esther and Emily. She often quotes Shakespeare's "Othello", telling me about how I am the "sacrificial" dog one beats to scare a lion and teach it obedience. I think that I am considered quite a qualified dog after all, right?

After my half sister, Serena Hawke, transferred to Ashmere University, she bet me she could steal Damian Cross from me within a month. I dismissed her. From that day on, Damian became a permanent second-place finisher. The first time Serena beat him, he frowned and said, "One point. I only lost by one point." After that, he calculated their scores every day. Over meals, he muttered, "How did she solve it?" Before bed, he stared at the rankings and said, "I'll beat her next time." He praised her clear reasoning, quick reactions, and even her handwriting. In the laboratory, he chose the seat beside her and responded only to her during group discussions. When I asked him to see a movie with me, he waved me off. "Serena sent me a new problem. I need to work it out." His phone was full of screenshots of her notes. Her class schedule hung beside his bed. Even in his sleep, he murmured about surpassing her. I watched the attention that had once belonged entirely to me shift toward my sister, inch by inch. Then my birthday came. Damian never showed up. I called thirty-seven times. He rejected every call. When he finally answered, he lowered his voice. "Rena asked me to watch the game with her. Wait a little longer." He hung up, and Serena immediately sent me her location: the third-floor lounge at the arena. When I opened the door, her arms were wrapped around his neck. The thread I had held taut inside my chest for half a year finally snapped. All that remained was a deep, aching exhaustion that seeped into my bones. Damian reached toward me in panic. "Rowan..." I stepped back. Anyone who could be taken from me was no longer someone I wanted.

After my sister and I were both diagnosed with liver failure, we were admitted to the same hospital. But only one matching donor liver was available. My family favored her. I still wanted to live. I broke down in the hospital hallway, pleading with my parents for that chance. Someone filmed me and posted the video online. Everyone called me cold and selfish. They said I had sacrificed my humanity just to stay alive. When it was time to sign the preoperative paperwork, my brother finally came to my room. His face was hard. The moment he saw me, he started in on me. He wouldn't even look at me. "This family has always indulged you because you're the youngest. Haven't you caused enough trouble? "Camilla Hale is only twenty. Her life is just beginning. "You've been sickly since childhood, but we've taken care of you all these years. What would it cost you to put her first this once? "You've been sick your whole life, and you've always pulled through." He didn't know Camilla had secretly switched our test results. Before I could tell him, his phone rang. Camilla sobbed on the other end, asking if I was still being heartless. Henry's voice softened as he reassured her. "Don't be afraid. I'm here. "This is yours. No one is going to take it from you." Whenever I got sick as a child, my brother, Henry Hale, carried me to the hospital on his back. Back then, he would hold my hand and say, "Livia, I'll be your guardian angel." Now, as I looked at his familiar face, I understood how much trouble I had caused everyone... "All right, Henry. She can have the transplant."

When I was ten, I accidentally overheard my mother on the phone. It seemed like she was talking about me being a switched-at-birth rich girl, and that my real last name was Gardner. The coldness and cruelty my mother had shown me all these years suddenly made sense. When I turned 11, I paid an adult to get a maternity test done for both my mother and me. The results confirmed that I was indeed her biological daughter. I kept the report to myself and pretended I was still in the dark.

Five years after cutting ties with my entire family, I see them outside the prison. They're here to help my younger brother, Hugo Strasser, complete the paperwork for his new job as a correctional officer. Meanwhile, I'm the inmate being released. The moment Mom and Dad see me, they freeze, awkwardness hanging in the air. "Mikey, we didn't have a choice back then when we asked you to take the blame for Hugo," Mom finally says after a long silence. "I never expected you to cut us off on the spot and refuse to call us even once during all these years in prison…" I pull away from her outstretched hand, gather up the last of my belongings, and turn to leave. As I pass them, Dad suddenly grabs me by the sleeve. "Mikey, it's been five years!" Dad cries, his eyes red. "How long are you going to hold a grudge over something that happened years ago? Is this really how you're going to treat your parents and your brother? "Whatever you have to say, come home and talk to us. You don't have anywhere else to go without us…" What is there left to say? I'm no longer the same boy who once desperately craved his family's love. Besides… I glance at the car parked nearby and force my arm free from Dad's grip. "I have somewhere to go. My real family's waiting for me."

On my little brother, Clover Shaw's birthday, I tear up my stomach cancer diagnosis report and use the money I've saved for treatment to buy him the gift he's been talking about for ages. But when I wake up in the early hours of the night while coughing blood, I hear the disdain in his voice. "That piece of crap he bought is just 5,000 dollars. It's not even worth as much as my cheapest game! Who would want that garbage? "He's such an idiot. It's been over 20 years, and he still hasn't figured out that we've been playing poor. He's out there working himself to the bone to scrape together my tuition fees! On top of that, he stinks so much every day! It's disgusting! Mom, who has always called me the backbone of the Shaw family, angrily speaks up. "He deserves it! You wouldn't have ended up in the ICU right after you were born just because he stole all your nutrients in the womb. You'd grow up to be young and healthy. "The fortune teller was right. He's nothing but a leech, and if we don't find ways to torture him, he'll only make your life suffer." While I collapse on the floor, tears stream down my face nonstop as I stare at the blood pooling in the trash can. "Don't worry, Mom. You won't have to fuss over my future because I won't have one…"

The day we took our engagement photos, the photographer said my smile looked a lot like my brother Wesley's. Stefani Lundberg, my fiancée, immediately had Wesley change into the same white tuxedo. "Perfect chance to get a few keepsake shots." When it was time to pick the photos, everyone crowded around Wesley's. Mom said he was born to wear a white tux. Dad said he looked more distinguished than me, the actual groom. Stefani studied the screen for a long moment, then pointed at a photo of Wesley looking back over his shoulder. "Let's put this one at the wedding reception. It looks great." I asked where my photo was supposed to go. Only then did she seem to remember I was there. "You and Wesley look so much alike. The guests won't even notice the difference. "Besides, he's never getting married. It's not every day he gets to wear a custom tux." I let out a quiet laugh. From the time we were kids, life had always been harder for Wesley. That meant I was the one who had to give in. If he wanted something, I was expected to hand it over. If he couldn't have it, neither could I. Even my wedding had to become the dream he never got. I slipped the only photo of Stefani and me out of the album. I was standing beside her, trying hard to smile. Now it felt like I was looking at strangers. Spring hadn't failed to come. I'd just spent too long standing in someone else's shadow, waiting for it. This time, I was done waiting.

My older brother was always my parents' favorite child. Victor had been sickly since birth, and from the time we were little, I was expected to absorb every misfortune meant for him. When his kidneys failed, my parents took one of mine and gave it to him. By then, my own body was already failing, yet when I begged them to treat me a little better, they only glared at me and cursed. "If you hadn't taken everything from your brother in the womb, why would he have suffered all these years? You owe this family. Pay it back." With untreated kidney disease worsening inside me, I died after Victor deliberately locked me inside his basement. It was painful, and it was bitter. But this life. I've given it back to you.

On the day we move into the new apartment, my mother, Elizabeth Carter, sends a floor plan to the family group chat. It's a three-bedroom apartment, and a name is marked beside each bedroom. The master bedroom is for my parents, and the second bedroom is for my brother, Benjamin Sullivan. The room with the best sunlight is labeled "Savannah's Room". Savannah Keller's father, Liam Keller, drowned years ago while saving Benjamin, who had fallen into the water. After she becomes an orphan, my parents take her in and raise her as their own for ten years. I zoom in and out of the picture, scrolling through it twice. Still, I can't find my name anywhere. I ask Mom about it. She pauses, as if just remembering this detail. "You said you wanted to apply to a graduate school out of town, right? Once you get in, you'll move away. Leaving the room empty would be such a waste. Savannah's situation is different. "Her dad died for Benjamin. She has no other family in this world, so she must be given that big bedroom." Benjamin is already helping Savannah choose the curtains. They are pink floral ones, which she likes. Meanwhile, my boyfriend of three years, Wyatt Whitfield, carries the newly assembled bookshelf into Savannah's room. He quietly asks her if she wants an extra shelf for her figurines. I sit on a cardboard box in the living room, watching everyone bustle around. It dawns on me then—it's not that they have forgotten about me. Rather, deep down, they subconsciously believe that to repay that debt of gratitude, I should naturally give up everything that belongs to me. Even Wyatt has become an accessory to compensate Savannah. Since there's no place for me in this home, I decided to give it all up to them. I lower my head and tap on my phone. Then, I sign the confidentiality agreement to work at a base in the Northwest for five years, with no chance of coming home. This time, I'm really leaving, and I'm never coming back.

When I woke up from a three-year coma following a car accident, everyone around me started treating me like I was made of glass. Terrified that something might happen to me again, they micromanaged every hour of my day, making sure I was never left alone. My brother took the morning shift, accompanying me on walks and workouts as I slowly rebuilt my strength. In the afternoon, my best friend kept me company, taking me shopping or to the movies so I would have something to do. In the evening, my parents would take me out for big, hearty meals, insisting that I needed to eat well to get my strength back. Then my boyfriend would come pick me up and take me home. Nestled in his arms before falling asleep one night, I gave a soft chuckle. "You guys don't have to walk on eggshells around me. I'm a grown woman. I'm not going to let anything happen to me again." Donovan O'Brien shook his head, his expression grave. "Violet, you mean the world to all of us. None of us could survive going through that agony a second time." My heart swelled with warmth and happiness, almost to the point of suffocation. That feeling lasted until I accidentally stumbled across a group chat on my best friend's phone, one that included everyone except me. The group was called "Protect Donovan's True Love", and the latest message was from my best friend. Thea Leblanc: [Violet and I just sat down in the theater. You're clear to bring Cheryl home now.] I scrolled upward and found a message from my brother. Neil Sanford: [I'm walking Violet in the park by her building. Donovan, don't bring Cheryl over here for breakfast today.] Further up were messages from my parents: [Violet just finished dinner. Drop Cheryl off and come pick her up.] I tapped on the profile picture for the woman they were talking about. The moment I saw her face, I froze. An icy chill ran straight down my spine. The very woman who had put me in a coma for three years was now with my husband. And the people I had believed loved and protected me had been covering for them the entire time.

Before our wedding, my fiancée, Sarah Hargrave—a professor of medieval history—held a private ceremony in a secluded chapel in the countryside. But not with me. Under the glow of candlelight, she cradled Benjamin Wheeler—her first love, his face gaunt from the cancer consuming him—in her arms. Her smile was soft, almost reverent, as she murmured, "In the eyes of God, vows made before the altar are the only ones that matter. Even if the law says I belong to Daniel, my soul was never his." And so, to the faint echo of hymns and the scent of old incense, they drank from the same silver cup, exchanged rings, and stepped together into the dimly lit sacristy—their makeshift bridal chamber. I watched. Silent. Motionless. No outbursts, no demands for explanation. Just the quiet dialing of a clinic to undo the vasectomy I'd gotten for our future. From fifteen to thirty, I had loved Sarah for fifteen long years. But in all that time, there'd never been room for me. That space had always belonged to Benjamin, my stepbrother. So I let her go. Afterward, I joined a geological research team bound for the isolation of Antarctica—a land cut off from the world, quiet and clean. Before I left, I handed Sarah a divorce agreement…and a final gift to mark the end. I never anticipated that Sarah, who'd always met my devotion with frosty detachment, who'd never once glanced back as I walked away, would look ten years older overnight.

My mother, Winona Barlowe, who was the medical director at the hospital, decided to let my intern sister, Mia Barlowe, practice her skills by performing a brain tumor surgery on me. I begged my mother to assign another doctor since it was my only chance at survival. She slapped me across the face and cried out, "How did I ever give birth to a selfish girl like you? Mia just started her internship. Can’t you give her the chance to practice?" When I died from the botched surgery, she turned gray overnight.

Before the adopted son, Luther Anderson, jumped into the ocean to end his life, he sent a text message in the family group chat. [Oliver’s too good. I just can’t beat him. I’m done putting up a fight.] Everyone mourned for him. I was called a murderer. My entire family hated me for it. My older sister, Samantha Anderson, who had once gifted me a piano, smashed my bones with a bat. “Since your musical talents overwhelmed his, I’m going to ruin your hands.” My fiancee, Camila Reid, threw a knife at me. “He’s always been jealous of your handsome looks. He’s always been insecure about it. You should ruin your face to make it up to him.” My parents sent me to a mental asylum instead. “If Luther doesn’t come back home safe, you’ll spend the rest of your life here reflecting on your mistakes. “You’ll only be released once you learn how to treat your brother well.” After that, Luther suddenly showed up and claimed that he missed my parents. Hence, he made a grand appearance. I also learned from the incident. I ignored my parents’ favoritism. However, everyone started to panic. “Oliver, are you going to desert us?”

Mom was a world-class micro-expression expert. She always said no lie got past her. To replay every emotional moment of Maya and me, she packed our house with HD security cameras. When Maya scraped her knee and burst into tears, Mom called it real pain. But when stomach cramps twisted my face, she pointed at the monitor and picked me apart. "The mouth twitch. The darting eyes. Classic attention-seeking." That day, I'd accidentally eaten something I was deadly allergic to. My throat swelled shut. I could barely breathe. Panicking, I clawed at my neck and crawled to her feet, begging for help. Mom adjusted her glasses, flipped open her notebook, and calmly wrote everything down. "Rapid breathing. Bluish skin. Sophie Schneider, your acting's gotten better again. Too bad your micro-expressions gave you away." To punish me for lying to her, she shut off the house's panic button, locked the front door, and took Maya to a concert. "If you love putting on a show so much, keep performing for the cameras. We'll see how long it takes before you admit you were wrong." I curled up on the cold tile, shaking in pain, and looked at the camera's blinking red light. My vision faded. Mom, you spent your whole life reading people. But you never understood your own daughter.

A car accident leaves me unconscious for a full three years. When I wake up, my family bursts into tears of joy. They care for me with the utmost attention. But from their behavior, I sense something is wrong. There are women's clothes in the house that don't fit me. My mother's shopping cart is filled with mysterious baby items. My father's friends send congratulatory messages about a new child, and my husband is always working overtime. When my husband once again leaves me alone under the pretext that there is something urgent at the company, I secretly follow him. Inside a warmly decorated house, my parents and husband sit around a table. A woman who looks almost exactly like me is holding a baby just a few months old, gently coaxing the child to call my husband "Daddy".