Melodramatic-Kurzgeschichten & Bias Countdown-Kurzromane

My ex, Luca Romano, had a rival family on his tail, so he begged me to hide him at my family's private estate for five days. For old times' sake, I agreed and gave him a temporary passcode that would work for five days. Five days later, I finished my work out of town and returned to the estate. When I entered the passcode, the door wouldn't open. Someone had changed it. I rang the doorbell. A woman I had never seen before came out wearing my nightgown. She yawned as if she owned the place. The moment she saw me, she looked at me with disgust. "So you're the ex-girlfriend who won't leave Luca alone? "You two already broke up, and now you're showing up at his place in the middle of the night? Don't you have any shame?"

When Adrian Hale chose Rosalie Quinn for the tenth time, I was hanging helplessly over the cliff’s edge. He clutched a rope in one hand, the web between his thumb and forefinger worn raw and bloody. Rosalie was sobbing so hard she could barely breathe. “Adrian, I’m scared…” He hesitated for only a second before pulling out a dagger and cutting through the rope on my side. “Clara, hold on. I’ll come back for you after I save Rosalie.” The system counted down in my ear. [The tenth abandonment has been confirmed.] [Life countdown: zero.] Before I fell, I didn’t wait for him to turn around like I had the previous nine times. I only smiled at him. “Adrian Hale, we’re even now.”

To leave something for her dying first love, my wife, Elara Wynn, decides to carry two babies at once, implanting his previously frozen embryo while she's already pregnant with our child. On the day of the procedure, she even stations 50 bodyguards outside, convinced I'll show up and try to stop her. But I never come. Once the embryo is successfully implanted, she finally relaxes. She doesn't understand why I'm making such a big deal out of it. All she wants is to leave something that belongs to her first love. She doesn't see anything wrong with that. Afterward, she comes to find me and says, as if she's doing me a favor, "Callum, aren't you happy I'm carrying twins now? Try to be the bigger person. What kind of example are you setting for the kids?" What she doesn't know is that while her first love's embryo survives the procedure, our baby doesn't. And I've already filed my immigration papers. In ten days, Callum Vane will cease to exist. I'll leave the country under a new identity, and she'll never see me again.

After Heath Renwick abandons me and our daughter for Celeste Worthing's dog for the seventh time, we finally learn our lesson. He parades around with Celeste and the dog, trending online, landing magazine features, and I don't say a word. He even tears up our daughter Maisie's favorite sketchbook to line the dog's bed, and she doesn't cry or make a fuss. Then the dog chases Maisie down a flight of stairs. She hits her head and ends up in the ER with a concussion, and only then does Heath bother to show up. "Raven! Why didn't you tell me? I'm Maisie's father too!" I spend the whole night sitting outside the emergency room. I look at him, my voice perfectly calm. "It's nothing serious, just a mild concussion. She'll be out in a couple of days. We know you're busy, so Maisie will understand." Heath freezes. "A concussion is serious, and you're telling me it's nothing? What kind of a mother are you?" He wants to blow up, but the whispers around him stop him short. "Mr. Renwick really is better suited for Ms. Worthing. If she hadn't gone abroad back then, a small-town woman like Raven would never have had a chance." "Exactly. She can't even keep her own child safe." Heath frowns. "There's nothing going on with Celeste. She's like a sister to me!" I nod. "I believe you. "Maisie fell down the stairs because Prince chased her. I know that dog means everything to Celeste, so I didn't bring it up. I didn't want to put you in a difficult position." A flicker of shame crosses Heath's face. "I'll find the best doctor for Maisie. Prince is everything to Celeste, you know that. She has mental health issues." "Mr. Renwick, I understand. Maisie doesn't need to call you Dad anymore." He panics. "If you're upset, just say so! Stop putting on this act and dragging the kid into it!" I nod. "Okay. I got it." I'm not planning to make a scene. I already have plane tickets to Eraly. In five days, we'll have nothing to do with each other anymore.

Brandon Hawthorne said if I wanted to marry him, I had to prove I was tough enough to be a Hawthorne. He took my bank cards, ditched me in a city I'd never been to, and made me figure out how to get home alone. When my fever hit 104°F, he still refused to let the family doctor through the door. Instead, I had to smile through dinner with a house full of Hawthorne relatives while I could barely stay on my feet. And every time I finally asked Brandon for help, he looked at me like I'd failed him. "You can't even handle something this simple. How are you supposed to be my wife?" But when his childhood friend, Patty Rowan, got blisters from her shoes, he picked her up and carried her away in front of everyone. She got a headache in the middle of the night, and he left me alone in the hospital to take the family doctor to her. I asked him why. He frowned. "Patty's fragile. And she's not the one trying to become a Hawthorne." Then came our engagement party. I accidentally ate peanuts. My throat started closing. I couldn't breathe. Brandon grabbed my EpiPen and locked me in the lounge. "This is your final test. If you want to marry me, tough it out." Then Patty called. She had a paper cut. Brandon immediately left with the doctor. "Hold out for ten minutes." I lost track of time. Right before everything went dark, I saw Brandon come back with Patty tucked close beside him. She had a Band-Aid on her finger. Through the haze, I heard the disappointment in his voice. "Patty was bleeding, and she didn't even cry. Are you seriously pretending to be dead?" Then came the final blow. "You failed the test. You're not ready to become a Hawthorne."

On the final day of our graduation trip, temperatures suddenly soared to dangerous levels. I came down with heat exhaustion, but my boyfriend gave our entire supply of electrolyte drinks to my best friend. "You're in good shape, and you know first aid. Just drink some water and rest for a bit. You'll be fine. "Willa's the one we need to worry about. She's always been frail, and without the electrolyte drink, she could get seriously sick." I was too dizzy to argue, so I turned to the others in our group for help, only to be met with eye rolls. "Sophie, you're taking this jealousy way too far." "Ryan was just looking after someone who's actually sick. Do you really have to act like you're about to die?" As the group set off again, my boyfriend looked down at me, still sitting on the ground, and frowned. "Do you really have to bring everyone down right now? "Fine. Stay here and think about your actions. Once you're ready to admit you were wrong, you can catch up with us on your own." He had no idea that I was already showing signs of heatstroke, or that in the moment he walked away, the system would speak inside my head. [Host's life is in imminent danger. Do you wish to leave this world?] I calmly closed my eyes. "I accept."

On the day of our graduation trip, my girlfriend suddenly went silent for half an hour. I didn't hear from her until just before I went through security. "Nicholas, you go ahead and board. Blake and I got upgraded to first class at the last minute. You know his back isn't great. He'll be uncomfortable in economy." Blake Walker was my younger brother in name, and every trip was the same. Whether we flew or took the train, Tiffany Spencer always made sure he got a first-class or business-class seat, while I was left squeezed into economy or a regular train seat. Even our carefully planned trip to the northern coast had been changed to a beach resort in the south simply because Blake casually mentioned that he liked the ocean. After two hours in economy, my back was aching badly, so I finally texted Tiffany. [I want to sit with you two.] Her reply was cold. Tiffany: [We'll be there in another hour. First class is expensive. Don't waste the money.] When we landed, the two of them were nowhere to be found. Tiffany explained over the phone. "Blake's hungry. I'm going to grab something to eat with him first. Come over once you've gotten everything sorted out." Then she told me to book the return flights. "Book our return flights. Two first-class tickets and one economy ticket. Don't forget." I tightened my grip on my phone and quietly said, "Okay." Then I bought three tickets. Two first-class tickets were bound for Kensford, while the third was bound for Aldmere, Loravia.

The entire New York mafia world knows that Don Alessandro of the Rossi family takes a brutal punishment from the Council every year just to marry me. Because the Rossi family has a strict rule: all marriages must be approved by the Council. Yet, for three years in a row, Alessandro submitted our marriage application, and every time, it was rejected! The first year, he was locked in solitary confinement for three days and nights. The second year, his back was whipped raw. The third year, he even knelt in a torrential downpour to beg for their mercy. I always thought it was my fault, that I just wasn’t good enough to meet the Council's standards. It wasn't until the fourth year that I found out all those rejection letters from the Council were forged by Alessandro himself. And the reason was Mia—his secretary who had been secretly obsessed with him for years. "Mia has been by my side for eight years. She took a bullet for me. She held me and cried, saying the day I get married would be the darkest day of her life." "I love Jane, but I just can't bear to hurt Mia." "It just means marrying Jane a little later. She loves me so much, she won't mind." But he was wrong. Even though my heart was breaking, I didn't want this kind of love anymore. I called my father: "Dad, I'm ready to come back to Italy and marry the Don of the Caruso family."

Coming from a poor background, everyone in Carl Humphry's circle assumes I'm a gold digger. Especially his best friend, Miriam Briggs. She claims she used to be one herself, so she knows my kind all too well. Desperate to prove them wrong, I spend three years with Carl without accepting a single expensive gift. Miriam just scoffs. "She says no, but deep down, she's just waiting for the man to make the first move and offer her something better. It's the classic play-hard-to-get routine." Then comes Carl's birthday. I've saved up for six months to buy him a watch. As I approach the private room, I hear Miriam laughing inside. "I told you she'd buy something pricey. Classic gold-digger move. Pretend you don't care about money, drop a little cash, and watch it pay off big later." Carl sits right beside her and doesn't say a single word. Someone chimes in, "Man, Carl, your girlfriend really knows how to play the long game." When they see me walk in, someone signals the room to hush. "Shh, quiet. She's here." Miriam smirks. "Some people just need to be real like me if they want a man to actually like them. Don't you guys agree?" Carl stares at me for a long time before asking, "Have you just been acting this whole time? Are you really aiming for a massive payout?" As I stand in the doorway, the watch suddenly feels heavy enough to crush me. I don't answer. I just turn around and walk away. I'm done offering real love to someone who only ever questions it.

During a family dinner with Liam, I brought up the idea of getting married sooner and starting a family. He immediately assumed I was after his family's wealth and only wanted to marry him for his money. In front of everyone, he slapped me more than a dozen times. Then he turned around and pursued his jealous childhood sweetheart. I grabbed his hand and begged him not to leave, but in a fit of rage, he shoved me down the stairs. That shove ended up breaking both my legs and fracturing my skull. I spent a month in the ICU before I finally regained consciousness. This time, I didn’t make a scene. Instead, I called my mother overseas. "Mom, about the inheritance you mentioned last time… I’ll take it."

On the third day of our graduation trip, my childhood sweetheart finally turned his camera toward me. But after taking only a few pictures, he frowned and lowered the camera. "Not a single one is worth keeping." A classmate beside us looked confused. "Huh? When you photograph Zoey, you barely have to try to get an amazing shot." A dull ache spread through my chest, and I clenched my fingers tightly. Lucas Hudson lowered his camera and said, "Forget it. We're done. You're just not very expressive in front of the camera. No matter how I photograph you, you always look the same." Then he casually stopped a young man standing by the roadside with a camera. "Hey, buddy, take a few pictures of her. I'll pay you afterward." Before the young man could answer, Lucas had already grabbed his camera and hurried toward Zoey Richardson. The moment he aimed his camera at her, the furrow between his brows vanished, and a smile curved across his lips. "Turn around and toss your hair. Yes, that's beautiful..." I stared blankly as they photographed each other with an effortless understanding that needed no words.

The trip for my wedding photoshoot had been planned for weeks, but I came down with acute gastroenteritis out of nowhere. My fiancée, April Neville, looked at me with nothing but concern. "Then none of us will go. What's the point of a trip without the leading man?" My best friend, her sister, and her closest girlfriend all agreed without hesitation. I thought I had found a once-in-a-lifetime love and friendships to match. Some time later, I picked up my fiancée's tablet to stream a show and accidentally tapped into a shared cloud album. In the latest live photo, my fiancée and her ex-boyfriend were kissing beneath the bell tower in Miravel. The friends who had sworn the trip would mean nothing without me were clapping and cheering in the background. "April and Sebastian finally got their happy ending. You have to admit, it's pretty romantic." "Without Oliver stirring things up, Sebastian's so much happier." "He probably still has no idea they never even bought him a ticket. The only one they booked was for Sebastian." "And his stomach bug? April left him that glass of juice on purpose. It had been sitting out for two days." Listening to those familiar voices, a chill settled over me. If the leading man in April's heart was never me, then it was time I went and found the leading lady meant for me.

In my seven years of my marriage with the Regent, I had risked my life bearing him five children. Every single one had died. My husband grieved so deeply that he collapsed. He knelt for three days and nights before the chapel in the bitter cold, praying for my well-being. He even spent a fortune to build a memorial tower in my honor. Everyone said the Regent loved his wife more than life itself. But the System's childbearing progress remained stuck at 90%. Then came All Hallows' Eve. I walked to the river alone to float a memorial candle for my fifth child, who had only just passed. What I found instead were four children carrying turnip lanterns, gathered around my half-sister, tugging at her skirts. "Mommy! Daddy said he's lighting a bonfire tonight!" Alaric Montague stood behind her, arms looped around her waist. His expression carried the same tenderness I knew so well. Even my father, as stern as he had always been, was chuckling beside them, more relaxed than I had ever seen him. My mother held a swaddled infant nearby, wiping the corner of the smallest child's mouth. "Odette is too frail to carry children. Thank goodness Alaric came up with a way to swap them." "Watch your words, Mrs. Devereaux," Alaric cut in at once, his gaze turning cold. "Laurel owed this to Odette. The debt is paid. I'll let her keep the next one." I bit down on my lip hard enough to taste blood. In my mind, an electronic tone stirred to life after years of silence. [Laurel, five registered offspring detected alive. Childbearing mission for the heirless Regent is complete.] [Portal activation imminent. Confirm departure?]

During summer break, I worked part-time at a bungee-jumping site, where my best friend deliberately hid behind me and cut my safety line. I scrambled out of the way, but my boyfriend hugged my sobbing best friend and accused me instead. "All I did was comfort Vivi a little when she got scared while bungee jumping. Did you really have to damage your own rope and frame her deliberately?" I stayed away from them to protect myself instead of trying to explain. Then a typhoon suddenly struck, leaving the bungee platform swaying dangerously. My boyfriend was in charge, yet he gave the only spare safety rope to Vivian, who had already retreated to safety. “You’re the safety officer, and you’re certified in high-angle rope rescue. A little wind can’t hurt you. "Vivi isn't trained for this. She's a visitor who's afraid of heights. I have to get her out first." When I said nothing, he snorted and locked the bungee platform's gate. "Are you really going to act jealous at a time like this? Fine. Stay here and cool your head in the wind!" He even evacuated the other staff members before leaving with my best friend, supposedly so I could reflect properly. What he didn't know was that my safety rope was already damaged and could not withstand such powerful winds. He had no idea that as soon as he left, the system’s cold notification echoed in my mind. [The target has abandoned you for the ninth time. Would you like to leave this world?] I watched his figure gradually disappear and calmly nodded. "Yes."

After my fiancé ran away with my sister, I became the biggest scandal in New York. Then Roman Vescari—the feared Don of the Vescari crime family—confessed that he had loved me for years. I married him. For five years, Roman treated me like the center of his world. Everyone believed I was the cherished wife of New York's most powerful mafia don. Then I overheard him speaking to his consigliere. "Celeste is Adrian's wife now. Are you really going to spend the rest of your life pretending to love Evelyn?" Roman fell silent. "I married Evelyn. I'll love her and give her everything a Vescari wife deserves. Celeste is in the past." But when Celeste and I fell into a freezing lake, Roman swam past me to save her, leaving me to sink only yards away. That was when I finally understood. He could protect me for the rest of his life, but his first instinct would never be to choose me. After I was rescued, I arranged my death at sea and ended our five-year marriage. When Roman learned of my "death," the ruthless mafia don shoved Celeste away, coughed up blood, and seemed to age ten years overnight.

My husband, Cillian Burke. King of the New York underworld. He runs his life on strict orders. Every second counts. Break his rules for more than three minutes? He strips my access. Instantly. Not a single second of grace. Today is our anniversary. I walk into the core lab three minutes late. Morning sickness. And just like that, I lose the purity test for my new drug. Liliana Croft is already sitting at my station. Taking my place. This is the fourth time. I fall one step behind. He punishes me without hesitation. He gives my world to Liliana. The first time. A Family meeting. I was two minutes late checking the books. He flew to the Vegas underground trade. He took Liliana instead of me. Second time. Prenatal checkup. Five minutes late. He took Liliana to our lakeside safe house. We were supposed to spend the weekend there. Third time. Morning sickness. Ninety seconds late coming downstairs. He left with Liliana. They went to a family dinner. Only core members were allowed. "You always ruin my schedule, Ava. I gave you a time. You are my wife. You are also a Burke. Obey my rules. Absolutely." I stand alone outside the lab. A sudden cramp hits my stomach. My hands shake. I call Cillian. No answer. I call again. No answer. Third time. He finally picks up. "The alarm terrified Liliana. She is unstable. I am not leaving her. Call the Family doctor yourself. Ava, listen to me. Stop wasting my time with petty drama." I look down. Dark blood spreads at my feet. I drop my phone. Cillian. Your ironclad rules never bend for me. Not once. Fine. My turn. I am cutting you out of my world. Forever.

Two years into my marriage with Luca Mancini, I'd gotten used to waiting. Wait until the accounts were settled—then he'd take me on our honeymoon. Wait until the family meeting was over—then he'd celebrate our anniversary with me. Wait until his men were taken care of—then he'd call the private doctor to see me. I knew how hard it was to sit in the Don's seat, so I never cried or made a scene about it. I even took half the work off his shoulders without being asked. Because of my patience and all the times I stepped back, things between us finally softened. When he was exhausted, he'd lean his head on my shoulder, kiss my forehead, and say: "My Donna, once this busy season is over, I promise I'll make it all up to you." Today was my birthday. He'd promised me half a month ago that he'd spend it with me. I'd booked out an entire restaurant. The cake was cut. I was waiting. But from six to ten, he never showed. Then a photo popped up in my inbox: In the pouring rain, Luca was holding an umbrella, shielding his childhood sweetheart, Anna, tight against his side. The timestamp on the photo read 9:40. Twenty minutes ago. He'd tilted the umbrella over Anna's head, letting the rain soak him through. Then his text came through: "I've got an important meeting. I'll be home late." Looking at that message, I didn't reply "Got it" like the good, understanding wife I always was. I thought I'd gotten used to waiting. I thought if I just cleared every obstacle out of his way, I'd finally get the man who kept his promises. But staring at that photo, my heart sank all the way to the bottom. It was never the waiting I was afraid of. It's just—last month, I was diagnosed with terminal leukemia. This was the last birthday I'd ever have. I stood up, hollow, and walked home alone through the endless sound of rain. The man I'd been waiting for—I couldn't wait for him anymore.

On the first day of our honeymoon, Dante Moretti, the Mafia Don I had just married, and his childhood sweetheart left me at a gas station. They had driven for twenty minutes before realizing I wasn’t in the car. When he called, panic filled his voice. “Ariana, why didn’t you get back in? I thought you were in the back seat.” Bianca’s voice came clearly through the phone. “She isn’t a child, Dante. You don’t have to turn around for her.” I laughed bitterly. I had lost count of how many times he had left me behind for his childhood sweetheart. When I remained silent, irritation crept into his voice. “Don’t start, Ariana. I’ve sent one of the guards to pick you up. Just wait for the guard.” In the past, I would have forgiven him and waited. But this time, I didn’t want to. I canceled the rest of our honeymoon and removed the wedding ring I had worn for less than three days. Then I called my father for the first time in five years. “Father, I want to come home.” His voice trembled. “Ariana, the Bellini family has been waiting for you.”

Three days before my wedding to Don Marco, I scheduled a memory erasure procedure. "Ms. Leah, are you certain you want to erase the memories from this period of your life and forget the people you knew?" I ran my fingers over the wedding invitation Marco had carefully prepared and said softly, "Yes." Three years ago, on the night Marco and I got engaged, Violetta was involved in a car accident. When she woke up, she identified me as the person responsible. That was when I learned that even an innocent person could become the villain in everyone else's eyes. Marco, the man I loved most, believed her and sent me to prison for three years. "Leah, you nearly destroyed her life. You should be grateful that she's still willing to forgive you." "But I can't keep cleaning up your messes forever. You need to learn to face the consequences of your actions." That was Marco's final decision. The truth was, if he had been willing to investigate a little further, he would have discovered what really happened. During those three years, Marco never responded to my pleas or my cries for help. All he left me was a promise that he would marry me after I was released. An empty vow. But I no longer needed his belated tenderness. Marco, I choose to forget you.