Bias Cheating Short Stories & Novels

At the celebration dinner, my wife lifted her glass and drank on behalf of her male assistant. I overturned the table without hesitation, then walked out and called my lawyer to draw up the divorce papers. By that night, she had already received notice. She would be leaving with nothing. She called right away, fury in her voice. "Are you serious? You're divorcing me over a single drink?" "Yes," I said. "Over that one drink." I would not tolerate betrayal. Not even a hint of it.

At the end of the year, I went to the spa and discovered a stranger had been using my VIP card. When I logged into my personal profile, the last three treatment records were not under my name. The preference section listed specific details about someone else. She was allergic to rose essential oil, preferred lavender, and her heating pad temperature could not exceed 108 degrees Fahrenheit. Her menstrual cycle fell around the 15th of each month, so no waist or abdomen treatments during that time. I stared at the screen, my palms turning cold. Only my husband, Zachary White, knew this password. At the time, he said he needed it to check the balance and renew my membership. I scrolled down and found a system note at the bottom: [Birthday treatment reserved for December 30, prepared according to Ms. Anderson's preferences.] Today was December 30. My phone vibrated. Zachary had sent a message: [Working late tonight. Won't be home.] Familiar laughter drifted from the hallway. Through the glass door, I watched Zachary walk into the adjacent room with his arm around a woman, the beautician hurrying forward to greet them. "Mr. White, we have Ms. Anderson's birthday treatment ready, just as you requested."

After Dustin Horne cheated and returned to our marriage, my entire family turned into my surveillance team. When he went out to take out the trash, my dad trailed him and sent me a video. "He's behaving himself. Didn't even look at his phone once." When he went to his law firm for a meeting, my mom disguised herself as a cleaner to sneak in. "There wasn't a single woman within ten feet of him." When he came back from trying a case out of state, my best friend scanned him top to bottom with a detector. "No stray hairs, no lipstick marks... all clean." Everyone swore to me that Dustin's heart was back where it belonged. Even Dustin himself stayed by my bedside every night, taking vows that he would only ever love me and our baby. That was until seven months into my pregnancy, when he went away on a business trip and I went in for a routine checkup alone. Passing by the maternity ward, I caught sight of him cradling a baby, kissing the woman in the hospital bed with tears of joy. My parents and my best friend were standing around the bed, cheering right along with him. I recognized the woman in an instant. It was his former mistress, Hattie Shields. Everyone panicked at the sight of me, instinctively bracing themselves to shield the baby. Yet I simply stepped forward and straightened Dustin's collar. "The baby's cute. Looks just like you. I won't interrupt you guys. I need to get back home and do the laundry."

On our wedding night, Timothy Soloman tossed a pack of contraceptive pills at me once it was over. "Amanda, you can't get pregnant." My brows knitted together. "But there's nothing wrong with my body." He shook his head. "That's not why. "I have a son. He's already five. I married you, but I also promised her there wouldn't be a second child." I felt like I'd been dropped into an ice cellar, my whole body shaking without end. "Who is she? Why are you telling me this only now?" I asked. "The girl you used to sponsor, the one who couldn't afford her tuition. She's been clinging to me, and I can't shake her loose. "But don't worry. You're the only one in my heart. You will always be my lawfully wedded wife; no one else." The marks Timothy had left on my body were still there. I looked down at the glaring red streaks across my skin, and I almost wanted to laugh at how absurd it all was. "Timothy," I said. "Let's get a divorce."

Before Lily's surgery, the nurse slid the consent form across to me. I called my husband, Ethan Reid, eleven times. When the twelfth call finally connected, the first voice I heard was his first love, Claire Bennett, on the verge of tears: "Ethan, the zipper on my wedding dress is stuck. Don't leave yet." I looked at my daughter, white with pain in the hospital bed, and said, "Lily's waiting for you." Ethan was silent for two seconds before saying, "Just sign it. I'll get there later." Later, Lily studied the lone guardian's signature on the form and asked, "Mom, can I leave Dad off the school forms from now on?" I said she could. From that day on, she stopped leaving room for Ethan anywhere a father's name was supposed to go: emergency contact forms, open-house sign-in sheets, birthday wish cards. As California's six-month waiting period for our divorce neared its end, Ethan promised to take Lily to the Monterey Bay Aquarium. Then Claire called, and once again, he left. Lily didn't cry. She snapped her dolphin headband in two and said, "Mom, let's go. I can grow up without a dad."

A week before the wedding, I took my dad to the hospital where my fiancé worked for an upper endoscopy under sedation. Dad had gotten up extra early to shave and put on a gleaming white shirt and a new pair of shoes. Clutching his numbered ticket, he asked me quietly, "If Yale's busy, we don't need to see him. We shouldn't hold him up." I patted his arm. "Don't worry. I made an appointment. It wouldn't be holding him up." He'd been up since five without anything to eat. By eleven, his legs were trembling from standing. I texted Yale Xavier. [Dad can barely stand anymore. How many people are ahead of us?] It took him a long time to reply. [Wait your turn like everyone else.] Another hour passed. Just as our turn finally came, they called in the mother and daughter who'd been sitting the whole time. Through the gap in the door, I heard the girl ask, "Yale, who are those people outside? Are you sure it's okay to give me their spot?" "Sure. I happen to know them a little. They're father and daughter. They won't mind." I looked down at the ticket in my palm, soaked with my dad's sweat. Dad had paid his tuition for medical school and his doctorate, and in five days, I was supposed to marry him. Now we were just people he happened to know. I rolled up the ticket and tucked it into my pocket, then helped Dad to the nearest place serving breakfast. As soon as we sat down, I sent a message to our family and friends. [The wedding is off.]

On April Fool’s Day, my CEO husband cut out my heart to save his childhood sweetheart's son. After the surgery, he tossed me into a cold rental apartment, where I died in agony. Three days after my death, my five-year-old daughter played in the room as usual. Walking by the sofa, she wrinkled her little nose and mumbled, "Mommy, there's a weird smell in here." She touched my face and murmured, "Mommy, are you pretending to be Snow White? Why are you so pale?" She shook my arm harder and raised her voice, "Mommy, it's my birthday today—get up and blow out the candles!" Confused, she picked up the phone and called her father. “Daddy, did I make Mommy mad? I lit the candles, but no matter how much I call her, she won’t wake up.” On the other end of the call, Patrick Hart’s voice was cold and impatient. “What could possibly be wrong with her? She’s just pretending to be asleep for sympathy. It’s Johnny’s birthday, I’m busy. Don’t bother me! Tell your melodramatic mother to stop playing her little tricks. I don't have time to humor her." My daughter removed the candle from her bun, pinched off a piece of the bun, and fed it to me. "Mommy, I made a secret wish… I really wish you could hold me again, just like before."

It was the seventh year we spent living separately after the marriage. I came to see Blake Shaw, and once again, my key broke and was stuck in the keyhole. I quickly called Blake. He said, "You probably got the wrong key again. Stay in a hotel. I'll come back and open the door." I looked at the sticker on the key and froze. The key was right. He changed the locks. Before I could think further, my father called, and he laughed heartily. "Of course he's out! He came over first thing in the morning, and he brought gifts! Then, my best friend's call came in. She was drunk from the sounds of it. "He's drinking with Zack. Your man's growing to be a good drinker." Then, my brother's call came. "He's a busy guy. Finally found the spare time to help me out with my investments." My mind was reeling. They had no idea I just asked the guard if this house's owner was home, and they said he was. I stopped asking questions. Instead, I called a locksmith. A strange curiosity took hold of me. I wanted to find out what secret my friends and family were keeping from me.

The day before we were supposed to get married, I found out my fiancé, Bradley Bigham, was cheating on me with my best friend, Carla Fralin. So I shoved him into a tub of disinfectant and scrubbed him down three times. Then I posted Carla's intimate photos online, and they spread like wildfire. What I never expected was that my mother, Roxie Boyce, would get so worked up that she ended up completely paralyzed, pushing our already struggling family to the brink of financial ruin. Just as I was ready to drag them all down with me, Bradley's archrival, Connor Magder, saved me. "You're going to ruin your own life over a scumbag and a tramp? Don't be afraid. I'll be by your side from now on." I thought I'd finally been saved. In our third year of marriage, I was holding a pregnancy test, ready to surprise him. That was when I happened to see him on a video call with my ex-fiancé. Connor's eyes were full of complicated emotions. "I'll definitely be at your wedding. As long as Carla is happy with you, these years I've spent with Ariana will have been worth it." I froze where I stood, the blood in my veins running cold. When Connor looked up and saw me, his eyes filled with wariness. He assumed I'd raise hell like I had three years ago, until things spiraled completely out of control. Instead, I stepped in front of the computer's camera and said calmly, "Congratulations on your upcoming wedding. I wish you a lifetime of happiness together."

In Willow Creek, there is an unspoken rule about wedding processions: never retrace your route. But on the day we are supposed to get married, my fiancee, Emma Carter, orders our entire wedding procession to turn around and drive more than 12 miles back the way we've come—just to catch up with another wedding convoy. I am about to get out and demand an explanation when I overhear Emma talking to one of her bridesmaids, Lena Williams. "You drove more than 60 miles just to make it to Ryan's wedding," Lena says. "That's some serious dedication." Then she glances nervously in my direction. "And now you're making us turn around? Aren't you worried Nathan's going to be pissed?" Emma continues directing the drivers to turn the procession around. "Don't worry. He's waited ten years for me. No matter how angry he gets, he'll never actually call off the wedding. "If my family hadn't pressured me so much, I wouldn't have agreed to marry him this easily. "Ryan's biggest wish has always been to marry me, and that's not going to happen now. So turning back to see him off for part of the journey is the least I can do. It's a small way of making up for all those years he spent chasing after me." When the matching wedding bands slip from my hand and disappear beneath the seat, I let out a bitter laugh. So much for finally getting our happy ending after all those years of hardship. Apparently, that is only wishful thinking on my part. I pull out my phone, open my messaging app, and send a woman my location. "Are you still planning to marry me? I'm waiting for you here. Come. Now."

While we're playing King's Game, Olivia Bennett's male best friend, Damien Hayes, has drawn the punishment lot that requires him to spill one of Olivia's secrets. He turns to look at me, a mysterious smile curling on his lips. "Olivia needs to get my permission whenever she wishes to sleep with Ethan." The atmosphere goes quiet immediately. As Damien licks his lips, he adds, "C'mon, there's no such thing as taboo when it comes to Olivia's birthday party! Why are you guys so quiet? I thought y'all are the type who's capable of taking jokes of any kind!"

At an investor banquet, my fiancé Tanner Clarkson’s secretary, Willow Thorne, recklessly throws a glass of wine at an investor and hurls insults without thinking. In retaliation, the investor demands that Willow make it up to him with her body, or he'll pull his funding. To ensure the company's successful IPO, Tanner hands me a glass of spiked wine. Then, he pushes me to the investor, expecting me to extinguish his flames of rage. His eyes are filled with feigned hesitation as he says, "Willow isn't like you. She just graduated—she's pure and innocent. Stop fighting it, Kathy. I'll make it up to you once the company goes public." When I regain consciousness, I stare at the man across from me, my voice hoarse. "About that deal you mentioned... I'll sign it."

My girlfriend, Lilith Fordson, has a lot of quirks. She creates her own marriage vouchers and tells me that she'll marry me after I collect 19 of them. She gives me one when she's happy and gives me another one when I give her a present. I get another one when she misses my birthday because of work. She gives me another one when she wakes up late and misses the chance to send me off when I leave for a business trip. I know that Lilith is ready to marry me when I eventually collect 18 marriage vouchers. I buy a bouquet of roses to surprise her with a proposal. However, when I return home, I see my best friend Declan Smith's car parked outside my apartment. Lilith and Declan are hugging in his car. They kiss each other passionately, looking as if they wanted nothing more than to be wrapped up in each other's arms forever. As I stiffly and slowly approach the car, I hear Declan say mockingly, "I feel so sorry for Theo, Lilith. He has no idea that you're actually compensating him for your betrayals every time you give him a marriage acceptance voucher. "He told me that he only needs one more voucher. You're not actually going to marry him when the time comes, are you? You're not going to just cast me aside, right?" Lilith pecks his lips and says, "Don't worry, darling. I won't give him the last voucher. I'll only settle down and marry him after I've had my fill of playing around." It turns out that every wedding acceptance voucher is actually proof of Lilith's betrayal. I turn around without any hesitation and throw the bouquet into the trash. I then grab my phone and call Mom. "I'm ready to go home, Mom. I'll marry Luna Ellis, the daughter of the mafia boss."

I had always been terrible with directions. The moment I stepped outside my familiar neighborhood, I could lose my bearings completely. My fiancé insisted that after we got married, we'd move to the suburbs, so I needed to learn how to find my way around on my own. For six months, he repeatedly dropped me off in unfamiliar places and watched me break down in tears as I wandered in circles. Tonight, as a torrential storm battered the city and the old waterfront industrial district prepared to close for construction, he left me at its entrance with a map marked with incorrect exits. "Find your way to the parking garage, and I'll consider your training complete." I followed the street signs for more than ten minutes before realizing I'd wandered into an abandoned rail yard. Floodwater surged past my ankles, and my phone signal dropped to a single bar. I called Maurice Rivas in tears and begged him to tell me which way to go, but he only sneered. "After all this time, you still haven't learned? Stop using your terrible sense of direction to fish for sympathy." The call remained connected, and I heard my brother and my best friend laughing in the background. "Watching Josefin wander around in the storm finally got Carla to take her medicine," Hakon Tanner chuckled. Carla Hickman giggled. "This is so much fun! Can we let her wander around a little longer? I want to keep watching." Maurice answered gently, "Of course. She got you fired, so it's only fair that she learns her lesson." I looked up and saw warning lights flashing ahead. Beneath my feet, the drainage gates were slowly rising. That was when I finally understood. In the past six months, Maurice had never tried to teach me how to find my way. He had simply been using my helplessness to entertain someone else.

Chuck's beloved ex, Ella, got divorced and showed up with her two-year-old daughter. Without asking me, he let Ella and her kid move into our home. Then Ella posted a photo of Chuck holding the child, captioned: [My husband cheated, so I filed for divorce, gave my baby a new dad, and found myself a new husband.] The comments were full of praise: [Real-life boss woman drama!] I had to laugh—so being a homewrecker is what counts as a strong woman now? Chuck didn't see a problem. He even told the child to call me "Momma." "Ella's husband cheated on her. She's raising a kid alone. As a woman, can't you have a little empathy? I'm just helping her out." Well, I had no empathy to give—not for the mistress, and definitely not for the scumbag.

This is the third time Seth Farrelly and I are heading to the courthouse to get our marriage certificate. The first time, his late friend's sister, Emma Lewis, loses her dog, and he spends the entire day helping her look for it. The second time, Emma says she isn't feeling well, and he spends the whole day at the hospital with her. I tell myself three's the limit. Today has to be the day we make it official. But then a sudden downpour hits. Seth shoves the only black umbrella we have into my hands. Then he takes off his suit jacket and runs into the rain toward Emma, wrapping the jacket around her and the Samoyed in her arms. "Emma isn't in good health. She can't be out in the rain. I'll take her home first. We can deal with the marriage paperwork another time." His voice is as cold and detached as ever. I stand there, gripping the umbrella handle, staring at the man who can't stand even a speck of dirt. Yet he lets the dog's muddy paw leave prints all over his white shirt. And he still holds Emma protectively in his arms. What Seth doesn't know is that this is the last time I'll ever wait for him. My phone vibrates, and a message from Emma pops up. "You lost again. That's three times now." Watching the two of them disappear into the rain, I reply calmly, "I know."

My wife, Denise Hawkins, and I are invited to a hypnosis reality show. The hypnotist, Magnus Pitt, asks her, "What's the most unforgettable day in your life?" Denise's answer is our wedding night. While I'm secretly happy about it, I hear her add, "Back then, the fun I had with Alan was too intense and spicy that we ended up ruining the sheets." I initially thought that Denise is working with the production crew to play a prank on me. After all, she was with me the entire night. How is it possible for her to sleep with her childhood friend, Alan Parker, anyway? But then Denise continues, "Alan came when it was past midnight. I was afraid that I might wake my husband up, so I dared not make a sound at all." Immediately, the entire studio goes eerily quiet.

The night before my wedding day, I receive a call from my mother. She tells me that my fiance, Ivan Gerber, is in bed with another woman. Shaken and confused, I rush over to his place. When I open the door, there really is a woman I've never seen before standing there. "The wedding is off," I text Ivan immediately. At dawn, Mom arrives after rushing all the way from our hometown. She bursts into the room and pulls me into a tight hug as I sob in her arms. "It's okay," she cooed. "You still have me. I'll always be here for you." Ivan sinks to the floor in front of me, swearing he hasn't cheated. "That isn't my mistress. She's Jean's younger sister. Jean and the others came over to keep me company…" After watching the security footage, I finally breathe a sigh of relief. Ivan holds me close and tells me that today is an unlucky day for a wedding, so we should postpone it. I agree. But that night, Ivan's phone won't stop buzzing. Jean Brockwell starts the conversation. "Ivan, this is going to be your hundredth wedding ceremony. What excuse are you planning to use this time?" Mom's voice came through. "Shall I call Olivia again?" "If we use the same trick again, Olivia will get suspicious. Kaia's been gone for five years, and we can't afford any mistakes now. Think of something else." The messages on the screen make my eyes sting. "Marie, thank you. You've kept this act going for so long, all for Kaia and me." "For Kaia, anything is worth it," Mom replies with a sigh. Tears blur the screen as I read through the messages. It turns out the wedding is nothing but a ruse. I'm just a supporting character being used to lure the story's heroine back. If none of it is real, then there's no reason for me to make it real. After 99 failed attempts, I decide I'm not getting married at all.

At her engagement party, my best friend, Hannah Sawyer, caught her fiancé cheating. Ryan Carter didn't apologize. Instead, right there in front of everyone, he sneered, "Who else would ever want you besides me?" Hannah was crying so hard she could barely stand. Without thinking, I grabbed my boyfriend Yates Grant's hand and placed it in hers. "Who says nobody wants you? "Starting now, he's your boyfriend." Yates froze for a second. Then he went along with it, taking off his jacket and draping it around Hannah's shoulders before leading her out by the hand in full view of everyone. That night, the three of us sat together drinking and laughing about the whole thing. It was only supposed to be an act, just this once. But Ryan kept harassing Hannah afterward. So Yates continued playing her fake boyfriend. He picked her up from work, walked her home, and helped convince her parents that she'd moved on. I never once doubted either of them. Not until I came across a post online. [I borrowed my best friend's boyfriend to make my cheating ex jealous. Now I don't want to give him back. What do I do?] The poster said her best friend had personally offered up her boyfriend. Their first time holding hands had been fake. Their first hug had been fake. But the first night he spent at her place had been real. People in the comments tore into her for betraying the friend who had helped her. She replied: [He said that since he slept with me that night, he'd take responsibility for me.] I stared at the photo of the three of us sitting in our living room, my hands and feet turning ice-cold. I'd only lent her my boyfriend for one night so she could save face. They'd turned that one night into the rest of their lives.

I came across a trending post asking people to share the person they had failed. One of the comments caught my attention. 'It has to be my best friend. In my defense, her husband is exactly my type. From head to toe, he suits my taste perfectly. I fell for him at first sight when she introduced us. 'During the graduation party, I got them drunk and slept with him. Damn, she's a lucky b*tch to have him. Later, I told her I went abroad, but actually, I was preparing to give birth to my baby in another city. 'He always comes to visit us. We are a happy family of three. Technically, I'm not a homewrecker. We already have a real marriage certificate. All we're missing is the wedding. 'I think fighting for true love is something to be admired. A word of encouragement: don't let the spouse of the person you love be the reason you give up.' Attached below the comment was a photo of a man's and woman's fingers intertwined. I recognized the man immediately. It was my husband, Luke Minton. I knew from the small scar on his wrist.