Melodramatic Short Stories & Bias Cheating Novels

My wife, Rosalie Maynard, gets reported to the authorities for embezzling her company's funds just to please her childhood friend, Ralph Osborne, by placing a high-stakes winning bid at an auction house. I'm the one who help clear all of her debts and receive the three-year prison sentence on her behalf. Rosalie promises me that she will cut off all ties with Ralph and stay devoted to me. But throughout my three-year sentence, she never visits me at the prison. On the day I get released from prison, I bump into Rosalie at the hospital, who has just given birth to a baby. As she plays with the newborn in the crook of her arm, she tells the others, "Vernon is about to get released from prison. The news of me giving birth must never get out. Otherwise, he'll definitely start a fight with me." I find it absolutely ironic, honestly. Not even a three-year prison sentence can make a woman, who's never been in love with me in the first place, miraculously fall for me. This time, I don't bother making a ruckus. Instead, I choose to disappear from Rosalie's world entirely.

It was my son's engagement party. However, my husband stopped me from giving my soon-to-be daughter-in-law her gift. "His mother will do the honors. This is not your place." I thought he was joking until he put his arm around his childhood sweetheart and sat down together around the main table. "I know Bianca mishandled your baby, but she had postpartum depression, and it was an accident. "She gave you Jason to make up for her mistake. It's time for them to be a family again. She has atoned for her sins." My nails dug into my palms hard enough to draw blood. Just when I was on the brink of losing it, my son raised a toast to her. "Someone has stolen your place for 30 years, Mom, but you'll never have to suffer again." Right now, my husband and son were like strangers I'd never met instead of my family. A bitter smile curled my lips. We'd spent more than three decades together. Time had left its mark on my graying hair, yet I was treated as nothing more than an outsider in a place I was supposed to call home. Perhaps this home was too small to fit all of us. Since that was the case, someone had to bow out and that someone… was me.

I canceled my ticket to Iceland. Even the customer service agent sounded confused. “There are only two seats left on this flight. Are you sure you want to cancel?” “Yes,” I said. “I’m sure.” We had been together for four years. Every February, he flew to Iceland. He always said it was for a photography project. On social media, he only posted glaciers and the northern lights. Whenever I said I wanted to see the aurora too, he would tell me, “It’s too cold there. You wouldn’t be able to handle it.” Then yesterday, I helped him organize an old hard drive. Inside was an encrypted folder named **February**. When I opened it, every photo was of the same girl standing beneath the same northern lights. The light was soft around her. Even the strands of her hair glowed clearly in the frame. The only photo he had ever taken of me was outside our apartment complex. Backlit. Out of focus. My eyes were squinting, and my entire face was blurred. At the time, he had even laughed and said, “As long as you can tell it’s you, it’s fine.” So it wasn’t that he didn’t know how to take good photos. He just never wanted to take them of me. For four years, he chased the northern lights. And every time, the same person stood beside him. The farthest light I had ever seen was nothing more than an Iceland photo he had posted carelessly online. While I was packing my things, he called me. His voice was rushed. “Weren’t you the one who kept saying you wanted to see the northern lights? Why did you cancel the ticket?” I hung up without answering. Iceland was too far. The aurora was too cold. Since he was never willing to come toward me, I would walk toward the light on my own.

Jay Cooper, Giselle White's assistant-slash-sugar baby, accuses me of stealing his mother's personal effects from him. That night, my mom, who's severely ill, gets dangled from a helicopter. Impatience is written all over Giselle's eyes. "If you refuse to return the cross pendant to Jay, your mom will pay for your willful act!" I do my best to suppress the throbbing pain coming from my heart as I beg hoarsely to Giselle to let my mom go. But my seven-year-old daughter, Valerie Walker, jabs a button on the remote control with an icy expression. "This is what you get for going against Mr. Cooper time and again!" I can only watch as Mom falls from a high altitude, soon smashing into the ground heavily. Sorrow fills my heart as I plead in a humble tone, "Please, I'm begging you… Please take my mom to the hospital…" "That's enough, Dylan Walker! The one dangling from the helicopter is a dummy, not your actual mom! Why are you still putting on an act?"

Seavora, Carmoria After seven years of a long-distance marriage, I was finally transferred to Leah Lambert's city. On Valentine's Day, I crossed Carmoria with my transfer papers, a big bouquet of roses, and a new diamond ring hidden in the bouquet. I waited outside her office, ready to surprise her. "Babe, where are you?" The second she walked out, I video-called her. I'd been counting down to this moment for years. Her voice was as gentle as ever. "Just got off work. What's up?" "Nothing. Just miss you. Do you miss me?" "Of course I do." A smile tugged at my lips. Thinking about her reaction when she saw me, I stepped toward her. "Really? Then turn around and—" My voice cut out. I froze. Her arm was wrapped around a man in a suit. Then she lifted her head and kissed the man. "If it's not urgent, I'll call you when I'm free. I have something important to do right now." She hung up. I stood in the cold and heard the man tease, "Babe, what's so important?" The woman I'd loved through college and seven years of marriage didn't hesitate. "Being with you." Tears hit the roses. I stared at the diamond ring nestled in the bouquet and let out a bitter laugh. So that's all I am to you? Someone who only matters when it's convenient.

On the day of our daughter's full-month celebration, Harvey McKinzie walked onto the stage holding the hand of his widowed, heavily pregnant sister-in-law. "Honey, to be honest with you—my sister-in-law's baby is mine." His parents followed behind, looking completely unapologetic. "We're the ones who made it happen. We drugged them. Our oldest son may be gone, but the family can't be without an heir. "Harvey is taking on the responsibility of carrying on both family lines—it hasn't been easy for him. From now on, you need to take good care of Lydia and the child she's carrying." The sister-in-law, now eight months pregnant, glanced at me shyly. "Jennifer, we're sister-wives now." I stood there frozen, holding my daughter, my voice trembling. "Why are you doing this to me?" Harvey frowned and let out a long sigh. "You're always saying how hard Lydia has it, right? Isn't it better if I just take care of her openly and properly? "I promise—you'll be the first wife, and she'll be the second. On paper, you're still my only legal wife." In that moment, my blood ran cold. Then, for the first time in a long while, I heard the system's alert in my head. [Host emotional fluctuation detected. Would you like to use all remaining points to exit the current world?]

I have been in a long-distance relationship with my boyfriend, Eugene Walsh, for three years. I finally have enough leave time to visit him after working overtime for an entire month. But when I arrive, I can't reach him. I wait alone in an unfamiliar city for ten full hours before he finally replies. When the call connects, my best friend, Haley Woodward, greets me with a cheerful laugh. "Surprise! I explored Oakhaven for you in advance. It's so much fun! Eugene is an amazing tour guide!" She chatters nonstop about all the fun they've had, as if she never notices the 30 missed calls displayed on Eugene's phone. I listen quietly. Only when she says she's cold does Eugene finally take the phone from her and say to me, "I'll take her back to the hotel first. Wait for me a little while more." The moment he is done speaking, I ask, "Do you know how long I've been waiting?" Eugene pauses for a second before saying icily, "She's your best friend. Do you really have to compete with her over this?" The unmistakable accusation drains away any desire I have to keep talking. I hung up. Just then, the cab that will take me back to Centuria arrives. The driver takes one look at me and can't help but comment, "Miss, it's already past midnight. This area isn't very safe. How can your family leave you here all alone?" I look down at my shoes that are soaked through by snow and slush. In a soft voice, I say, "Yeah." Then, I smile and add, "They won't. Not anymore."

Brad Harrington's executive assistant was having another depressive episode. He pulled out the divorce papers. "It's just paperwork," he said. "Once she's stable, we'll remarry immediately." I picked up the documents, skimmed a few pages, then looked up at him. "I'm walking away with nothing?" His face twisted with impatience. "It's a fake divorce. Are you really going to nickel-and-dime this?" I just smiled and said nothing. Quietly, I signed my name. What he didn't know — I had been waiting for this day for a very long time.

At a company team-building dinner, my coworkers started a challenge. We had to call our husbands or boyfriends and compare how much money they sent us. The rules were simple. Whoever got the biggest transfer and the fastest answer won. As usual, I came in dead last. "Seraphina, don't take it personally. Mr. Brooks may not be very romantic, but at least he's rich." Everyone laughed and tried to smooth things over, carefully avoiding old wounds. Like how I had spent seven years helping Conrad build his business, yet he had never once brought up marriage. Like how Conrad had distributed company shares to the executive team, and I was the last person to find out. Or how, on the day I was diagnosed with stomach cancer, the only person sitting beside me in the hospital waiting for the test results was my best friend. I simply smiled and said nothing. Then my gaze landed on the new intern. She gripped her phone so tightly her knuckles had turned white, hesitation written all over her face. "I think I'll pass," she said quietly. "He's on a business trip. He's really busy." The mood in the room began to grow awkward. Trying to help her out, I leaned forward with a smile and tapped the speakerphone button as I dialed for her. I had expected the call to go unanswered. Instead, it was picked up instantly. The private dining room fell completely silent. Because the voice that came through the phone belonged to my quiet, unromantic boyfriend, Conrad, and his tone was impossibly gentle. "Babe, did you get the Valentine's Day surprise I sent you?"

My childhood friend, Sawyer Dwyer, had just confessed his feelings to me when his ex, Lina Keenan, got into a car accident. In the hospital hallway, his voice was steady. "She can't handle any emotional shock right now. Just give it some time. Don't tell her about us." I met his gaze and nodded. I never thought "some time" would turn into three whole years. He made her soup, helped with her rehab, and gave her all his attention. But whenever I showed the slightest frustration, he got annoyed. "Joelle, don't overthink it. She just depends on me right now. Once she's better, everything will be fine. "I'm just being there for her as a friend. "Stop making this into something it's not..." ... Over and over, he made the same promises with complete confidence. Then one day, I brought a hot meal to Lina's place and pushed open the door. They were kissing. I stood there, frozen. When Lina noticed me, she smiled. "Joelle, I have good news. We're back together. When are you going to get a boyfriend? I want to see you happy too." I looked at their hands locked together, my eyes burning. "I did have a boyfriend. But just now... we broke up."

A week before the wedding, Sean Green begged me to date his best friend. "Honey, just one month. I'll come get you when it's over. You know better than anyone how to be a surrogate girlfriend. Please do this for me? Help him get over the regret of losing his first love so young." I said nothing and nodded without hesitation, but I was not doing it for him. Before I got together with Sean, I was indeed famous in high society as a surrogate girlfriend. So, when Sean pursued me, I did not believe him. I thought it was just another game some nepobaby had come up with until I rejected him for the ninety-ninth time. "Sean, I'm not some decent woman. I love money, and I've been a surrogate girlfriend for a lot of people. If you want me to act as one, we'll do this properly, and you can name a price." I tried my hardest to look arrogant, but he pried open my clenched hand and pressed a black credit card into my palm. His eyes were full of heartache as he said, "I have money. All you need to do is be yourself, my girlfriend, and my future wife. No one will ever make you a stand-in again." I believed him. At least, until a few days ago, when I saw his chat with his friends. [Now that the real one is back, the surrogate girlfriend doesn't seem so appealing anymore, right? Aren't you afraid she'll actually sleep with him since you're handing her off to someone else? Or run away with him?] Sean replied: [She won't. She loves me to death.] [Besides, it's not like I'm not going to marry her. I just want to make up for my regret when Anita's back this time.] [Ethan Foster is my best friend. He knows where the lines are. He won't touch her.] But Sean did not know that the best friend he was talking about had long since lost all sense of restraint with me.

I was the most laid-back of all the women Isaac Sterling kept around. While the others did everything they could to win his attention and secure a place in his heart, I had long since given up trying. Instead, I spent my days lounging in the luxury mansion he bought for me, eating, shopping, and enjoying life. Every time Isaac started seeing someone new, the other women would worry that they would be replaced. I, on the other hand, barely reacted. Even when news broke that he was getting engaged, I did not care. I simply smiled and said, "Then I wish him a happy marriage and a lifetime of happiness." What no one knew was how deeply I had once loved Isaac. I had loved him enough to give up everything and stay by his side as he struggled from having nothing to becoming one of the most successful men in the city. However, the bright, noble young man I remembered had changed, and so, I proposed a breakup. With a frown, he lowered his voice and coaxed me gently. “Come on. Don't be upset. My engagement to the Harris family heiress is only a business arrangement. Just be patient for a little longer.” However, I had been patient for far too long. I endured being his lover without a title or a future. I endured the endless stream of women who came and went around him. I even endured watching him prepare to marry someone else. This time, I was exhausted, and I was leaving.

Before heading off to war, Sebastian Crawford made a solemn blood vow on his honor—just to keep me from worrying while he was gone. He promised to come back and marry me with a grand ceremony, the whole nine yards. Eight years later, Sebastian returned as a general, draped in glory. But by his side was a woman—dressed like a man, her very pregnant belly sticking out like a sore thumb. I took a deep breath, calmly slipped off my engagement ring, and called the whole thing off. Sebastian scowled, clearly annoyed. "Lena bled with me on the battlefield. I've always seen her as a brother in arms. She's pregnant because she helped me take care of a physical need. It was simple and practical. No strings attached." I let out a bitter laugh. Then I sent a messenger pigeon. "Fine. Then I'll find someone to help me out too."

During the summer vacation, I go overseas with my boyfriend, Cornell Glover, to attend his favorite music festival that is called the Tuchella Music Festival. When we are lining up to go into the venue under the sweltering heat of 86F, I go to the vendors nearby to buy him some iced bottled water. But by the time I get back, Cornell is gone. To make things worse, my digital ticket shows that it has already been checked in. Anxious, I call him and ask, "Have you gone in? Why does my ticket show that I've checked in?" Cornell replies, "Oh. I ran into Ellie Valdez, the intern from our department, just now. She was crying at the entrance because she couldn't get a ticket, so I gave yours to her." "Are you crazy? I was the one who got us those VIP front-row seats!" I exclaim. "Come on. It's not like you're interested in rock music. You'd just be scrolling on your phone after you get in. Ellie is a diehard fan. Don't you think you should let someone who appreciates the music have this instead?" Cornell says nonchalantly. I am so shocked that I don't know what to say. After a few seconds, I say in disbelief, "So you left me out here, all alone, for an intern's sake?" Cornell sounds dismissive as he says, "You can hear the music from outside anyway. Just find somewhere to sit and wait until the music festival ends. Don't be so selfish." I listen to the long, monotonous beep after he hangs up on me for a moment before calling my lead singer brother right away.

After giving me the cold shoulder for a month, Jules Anderson voluntarily handed me two VIP wristbands for Coachella and invited me to attend it on our wedding anniversary. I was dressed to the nines that day, but he never appeared, even after admissions started. Then, once I was about to enter, I realized that the wristbands in my bag were gone. At that moment, Jules' childhood sweetheart, Maddie Washington, updated her social media. In the photo, Jules was solemnly holding a pink cotton candy, completely different from his usual cold and aloof demeanor. The caption read: [Finally seeing Domi Dora. Thank you to the person who always responds to my every request.] Looking at the empty compartment in my bag, I suddenly understood everything. In the past, I would have had a big argument with Jules and forced him to give me an explanation. Now, I just felt relieved. It had been five years. I accumulated so many disappointments that I was drained.

Late one night, my wife called me, her voice carrying a hint of apology. "Drew, I'm sorry. I cheated." Everyone in our lives knew she loved me more than anything. So how could she possibly cheat? After realizing it was April Fool's Day, I replied with a smile, "I cheated too." She didn't sound surprised at all. Instead, she seemed relieved. "That's good. At least I don't feel as guilty now. "The divorce papers are in the second drawer of the study. Just sign them." I was about to tell her she was putting on a pretty convincing act when the call suddenly ended. Smiling, I opened the drawer and froze. The divorce agreement was real, with her unmistakable signature at the bottom of the final page. My eyes stung as I reached for my phone, about to ask whether this was really some kind of joke, when a message arrived from one of my wife's graduate students. [Mr. Jensen, so it turns out you cheated too. In that case, just step aside already. Then Ms. Jones and I can finally celebrate our first anniversary out in the open!]

Just before the end of my shift, the last patient I see is my wife, Tracy Montgomery. Her prenatal test report clearly states that she is three weeks pregnant. She is the mother, and the father is her lover of five years, Max Lockwood. Calmly, I slide the report across the desk and say softly, "Congratulations. You finally got what you wanted." Tracy pauses for a moment before frowning hard. "That's it? Are you just congratulating me? Don't you have anything else to say?" I stare at the piece of paper and at the child who isn't mine. I initially think I would react the way I always do, which entails throwing away my pride and causing a huge scene in front of her. But in the end, I don't even have the strength for that anymore. Her fingertips brush gently across her stomach as she says, "I've had my fun over the years. Once the baby is born, I'll settle down." Hearing those words, I lift my head and meet her eyes. I say evenly, "Tracy, our contract has expired."

For ten years, I have stayed by Maren Hale's side without her formally acknowledging me as her boyfriend. Thus, I become the oldest kept man in Harborfield. After I turn 30, I have asked her to marry me more than 30 times. Each time, she smiles and kisses me. "Reid, I'll marry you when I'm ready," she says. When I'm 31, a car accident nearly kills me. Still shaken, I propose to Maren. She tells me to wait a little longer. By the time I'm 33, a doctor warns me that my kidney function is declining. I wave the diagnosis report in front of her and press for marriage. Yet, she still tells me to wait. While I wait for her, the sun rises and sets over Mount Carlisle more than 3,600 times. Finally, I think she is ready. Holding back tears, I promise my seriously ill father that he will live to see me get married. What I don't know is that Maren is not opposed to marriage. It's just that the ten years she spends fooling around with me are nothing more than an act of rebellion against her mother, who has driven away her former fiancé. Before the banquet, I see the ring I give Maren inside her handbag. I think she is finally going to accept my proposal. Nervous and hopeful, I wait the entire evening. But just moments ago, during a game of dare, she casually tosses the ring to a male model she has just met. "The kid is turning 20. A pink diamond suits him perfectly. Next time, I'll have an emerald one made for us." The entire room bursts into laughter. I laugh along with them. "Don't bother," I said. "Someone else already has a rock waiting for me, and I said yes."

After Halle Anderson cheated on me and came back to me, I gave her three chances to cut ties with her lover. She grabbed the opportunity and spent those times with him. They had dinners together, did crafts, and she even spent whole nights with him. After that, she threw everything that was related to her lover away and held my hand again. “Believe me, I’ll never betray you again.” One day, I got into a car accident with an energetic young man. He angrily gave someone a call, and I heard my wife’s best friend’s voice coming through. “Halle, I’m telling you to not go. You’ve used up all three chances. Grant will definitely divorce you if you do so.” Immediately after, I heard Halle say fearlessly, “Grant’s an orphan. He’s been deprived of love his whole life, so he’s even more terrified of divorce than I am. “Just keep this a secret. I know where to draw the line. This is going to be the last time.” I lay in a pool of my blood and felt cold. It turned out that this confident young man standing before me was the lover Halle was protecting. Twenty minutes later, Halle, who had promised to come back to me for good, arrived at the hospital in a rush.

I was born into a line of vampire hunters, but I was hopeless at it. I couldn't pass a single trial, couldn't make a single kill, so my family dumped me in the countryside and left me to rot. When they brought me back at eighteen, they packaged me up and handed me to the vampire noble Lucian von Karstein as his lowest blood-slave. I had already made my peace with being drained dry and tortured to death. He turned out to be nothing like what I expected. He built me a villa with good light. Every morning before dawn he went out to the garden and picked flowers still wet with dew, and left them by my pillow. When his family ordered him to kill me, he gave up five hundred years of glory for my sake. He surrendered his power, his title, his castle. He traded everything he had to keep me safe, and in the end he ran with me, away from the whole vampire world. But there was a curse in my blood. Every time I let myself feel something for him, it punished me, gnawing my heart to pieces one inch at a time. So all I could do was call him useless, force him to buy me jewelry, drive him away from my bed, and humiliate him every way I knew how. He ended up living in the garage, hauling cargo to survive, supporting a spoiled, vicious wife who treated him like dirt. One night I crept into his little partition and pulled back his collar. There was a burn the length of my hand, gotten from hauling freight day and night just to buy me a gift. I hid in the bathroom and ran the tap to cover the sound of crying. Dabbing ointment on the wound, sniffling, I asked the thing in my blood: "Curse. When is he finally going to hate me and leave?" The curse looked at the back of his hand, wet where my tears had fallen, then at the faint tremor of his lashes, and sighed. He's going to love you for the rest of his life.