Mga Maiikling Kwento tungkol sa Melodramatic at mga Nobela ng Bias na may Face Slapping

My pack has a tradition. Every she-wolf who comes of age has to run for Moon Envoy once, and someone has to truly choose her. If no one does, the Moon Goddess punishes her. I was so afraid of that punishment that I'd never dared to run. But my future mate, Silas Thorne, said I was worrying over nothing and signed me up for this year's election himself. "The Moon Goddess watches over every one of us. She's not going to punish anyone that easily. You're overthinking it." Still uneasy, I kept reminding them. "This is a big deal for me. You, Scott, and my brother are the only three wolves I'm really close to. "When the time comes, you all have to vote for me." I'd thought I would get at least one vote. But that night, my ballot box was empty. Then a familiar voice drifted over from the corner. It was Vivian Grant, the human girl they'd rescued and brought back to the pack. "Silas, it's all thanks to you three. I got the most votes, so I get to be the Moon Envoy!" "But my sister's going to be okay, right?" Alexander asked. "The elders said the Moon Goddess takes away all the feelings of any wolf no one chooses." Silas, Scott Avery, and my brother, Alexander Reed, fell silent for a moment. Then each of them denied responsibility, claiming he'd been sure the other two would vote for me. In the end, it was Silas who spoke, his voice flat. "So what if she loses her feelings? She's always been sensitive. She cries all the time. She's nothing like a real wolf. If she really ends up with no feelings, maybe she'll finally toughen up." Soft moonlight fell over me, but my chest ached with every beat of my heart. I took it all in silence and waited for the punishment the people closest to me had brought upon me. But once my heart stopped feeling anything at all, why did they all start to regret it?

In the final minute before the university application deadline, my boyfriend’s girl best friend, Makayla Jaycox, claimed she had an inside scoop from an admissions consultant. She said several elite universities had unexpected openings in their least popular majors due to insufficient applicants. So, they would likely accept students with low scores. Many students were swayed and actually planned to change their majors, hoping to get into those universities. In my past life, I stopped her instigation by threatening to report her. In the end, everyone submitted their original choices, and everyone was admitted to their chosen universities. But the very next day, news broke out that someone had indeed gotten into an elite university with a low score. A classmate who only got into a community college saw the news, went mad, and pushed me off a building. “It’s all your fault for stopping me from getting into a top school! You completely ruined my life!” I fell to my death and died in resentment. When the police came into our class to carry out an investigation, Makayla rallied the whole class to defend the killer. “My intel was correct, but she just had to go and crush everyone’s dreams of getting into a top university.” “Exactly! If it weren’t for her, I could’ve gotten into Harlad University! That trash deserved to die!” “She did it on purpose. She just couldn’t stand the thought of anyone doing better than her.” The entire class signed a petition for leniency, and the killer was also diagnosed with bipolar disorder. He was sent to a psychiatric facility instead of prison. Makayla took advantage of this by visiting him daily at the hospital and livestreaming it to build her kind and caring persona. She made a fortune out of it. When I opened my eyes again, I had returned to the day Makayla urged everyone to change their universities and majors. Watching everyone cheer and dance in excitement, she smiled and said, “Go for it! Switch it up. Who knows? Shoot for the moon, and you might just land among the stars.”

My mother, Yvonne Scott, is a maternal health specialist who has helped countless women safely deliver healthy babies. Her delivery with my older brother goes smoothly, but she suffers a difficult labor with me. After everything she endures to bring me into the world, I'm diagnosed with autism at the age of six. Dad can't accept it, so he leaves her. Mom blames me for derailing her career and destroying her marriage. Even as a kid, I can always see the resentment in her eyes. Over the next two years, she loses me twice. The third time, I watch her burn every trace of my existence. That's why I choose to leave home. 20 years later, I become a child psychologist specializing in autism and work as a special education specialist at Haverly's most prestigious school for children with autism. The school requires every incoming student to attend a one-on-one introductory session before the new term begins. When I spot Yvonne arriving with her grandson, my heart drops.

On our tenth anniversary, my husband's secure work phone buzzed. "Sorry, honey. Emergency callout." He looked so anxious that I did what I had always done and let him leave without complaint. One second later, my phone recommended a viral video with more than a million likes. Derek Foster's best friend, Mason Reed, raised his glass to the camera, drunk and grinning. "First toast to me. My buddy disappeared, so I stood in as the groom. "Second toast to me. He went on a date, and I told his wife he was at tactical training. "Third toast to me. He handed me his kid to raise, and I became a dad without doing any of the work." The comments exploded. Everyone praised Mason for creating the perfect comedy account. I couldn't laugh. Mason really was raising an eight-year-old boy alone. I called him. "Where are you?" His voice was thick with sleep, but he answered, "Out grabbing barbecue with Derek." I hung up, picked up my newest Birkin, and took a selfie in front of Derek's prized whiskey wall. Then I posted: "Trading in my husband. Thirty-six, seeking two eighteen-year-olds. Ambition optional. DMs open."

During a street interview, the interviewer asks, "What's the craziest thing you did in high school?" My best friend, Juniper Young, looks shyly into the camera. "I secretly changed someone's college applications so we'd end up at the same college." My childhood sweetheart, Flynn Sadler, takes over the microphone and smiles casually. "I left the last question on the math exam blank, so when someone changed my college applications, they wouldn't have to feel so sorry for me." Carrying three orders of omelet rolls, I hurry back and fall flat on my face. Their answers stun me. Before I can gather my thoughts, Flynn reaches over and ruffles my hair. "Don't ask her. If she can't answer, she'll end up crying." My nose stings, and tears well up in my eyes before I can stop them. Juniper immediately grabs Flynn by the ear. "You idiot. You made Sophie cry again! This time, you're the one who's going to make it up to her!" He winces in pain. "Alright, my bad… But she's so timid. The chances of her doing something crazy are lower than the chances of her not following us around everywhere." The two of them shove each other, laughing and bickering. Before long, they have forgotten I'm still there. The day we submit our college applications, they have each come to me, asking where the other has applied. Out of a one-minute audio message, only the very first second has anything to do with me. The remaining 59 seconds are all about each other. So, naturally, they have no idea that I have also done something crazy. I have submitted my application to my dream university abroad. From now on, our paths will finally diverge. I will never trail behind them again.

Ten years ago, a fire broke out at my school. I saved four friends, but the flames left me an idiot. The four of them stood beside my hospital bed and cried, swearing they would spend the rest of their lives making it up to me. They were afraid I would get bullied, so they gave up their spots at two of the country's top universities and went to community college with me instead. They were afraid someone would trick me into leaving them, so the other three pushed Joshua Summers to confess his feelings for me. I had once said I envied people who lived in houses that didn't leak, so all four of them saved every cent they had and bought me a house for Joshua and me to live in after we married. Then came the party the night before my wedding to Joshua. When I returned from the bathroom, I heard everyone inside playing a round of Truth. The topic was "Secrets Loretta Doesn't Know." Curious, I pressed my ear to the crack in the door. Calvin Dawson's drunken laughter drifted through. "That little idiot has no idea tomorrow's wedding is actually for Nisha." I froze. After a moment of silence, my sister picked up where he had left off. "Loretta doesn't know that when Josh confessed to her, he only did it to spite Nisha. Who would've guessed she'd say yes? This wedding was supposed to be Nisha's from the start." My best friend's eyes reddened. "If my family hadn't forced me into marriage, I never would've taken Lori's wedding from her. I only want the ceremony. She can keep the title. As long as she's happy, my own happiness can wait until the next life." Joshua's eyes flickered. With a resigned expression, he revealed the final secret. "This morning, I got worked up enough to consider sending Loretta to her death, but I gave up on it in the end. We owe her a life anyway. Let's call this one paid off." I didn't know how long I stood there before I finally stumbled back to my room in a daze. I opened Joshua's bag, and there it was: an opened bottle of pills. My heart shuddered. The happiness I had cherished for ten years had never been anything more than repayment for a debt. Through my tears, I put the pills into my mouth one by one. There was no need to wait for the next life. In this one, I would give them the happiness they wanted.

I was a human, but my husband Damien was one of the noblest vampires. When I was two months pregnant, I was kidnapped by a traitorous vampire whom Damien had banished, and tortured to death. But my husband Damien, was with his first love Vivienne, accompanying her for her Blood Withering treatment. This is an extremely rare vampire disease that requires human blood of a rare blood type for treatment. Three days ago, he demanded I give my blood to Vivienne. When I refused, telling him I was two months pregnant with our child, his eyes had turned cold. "Stop lying," he had snarled. "You're just being selfish, trying to let Vivienne die." He drove me to the edge of the territory and left me there — a human, alone in the wilds after dark. "Find your own way back since you're so heartless." I stood there in the darkness and was taken by Silas — a rogue vampire Damien had once condemned to punishment. He cut off my limbs. With cruel satisfaction, he called my husband. But Damien simply didn't believe it. His response was brief and cold: "Whatever it is, Vivienne's treatment is more important. She needs me right now." Silas let out a dark laugh. "Well, well... Seems like the great Enforcer values his ex over his own wife." When Damien arrived at the crime scene hours later, he was horrified by the brutality inflicted on the corpse. He raged at the killer for being so savage to a pregnant woman. But he didn't recognize that the mutilated body before him was his own wife — me.

My best friend Summer Woods often made me play the "instant reply game" to test our boyfriends' loyalty. She said you could tell how much a man loved you by how quickly he replied to you. During a meal, less than three seconds after she sent the text, her mysterious boyfriend transferred $800 to pay her bill. I sat there until we finished all the food before I finally received a reply from Cody, which said, "I'm in a meeting." On a certain rainy day, Summer simply texted, "I forgot to bring an umbrella", and ten minutes later, a luxury car was there to pick her up. Meanwhile, I stood drenched in the rain for an hour before Cody finally replied, "Just grab a cab." Summer would poke my head and say, "You're such a fool. You wouldn't even notice if he was cheating on you." More than once, I defended Cody, "He loves me very much. He's just too busy." Then, I'd cling to her arm and whine playfully, "Besides, I have you~" During my bachelorette party, we were drugged at a bar. Summer anxiously took out her phone and said, "Rebecca, I feel bad for you. If he still doesn't show up this time, you should just break up with him." In despair, I sent a distress message to Cody. Ten minutes later, he burst in like a madman. I thought, this time, I'd finally won, but he rushed past me and pulled Summer tightly into his embrace. "Summer, I'm sorry I'm late." I watched him carry my bestie away in shock. It turned out Summer's "mystery boyfriend", who was always there at her beck and call, was none other than my fiancé, Cody Langford.

The night before our wedding, word spread like wildfire through high society that my fiancee had thrown herself a bachelorette party with ten virgins. When I storm into the villa, I find her nestled in the arms of my chauffeur's son, her skin blotched with fresh red marks. "It's just a wild night before the wedding. You get that, don't you?" Melissa Young says. She looks up at me with indifference, not bothering to explain herself. I catch the smug challenge in the eyes of the man holding her. My eyes burn red as I hurl the wedding invitations to the floor. "The scandal is everywhere! Have you even thought about what tomorrow's wedding will look like?" I yell. "This isn't just about you and me. It's about the future of both our families' businesses! Call a press conference and explain yourself." She frowns, irritation flickering in her eyes, but gives a grudging nod. Yet the next day, the internet explodes with a new bombshell—the Zucker heir is impotent, leaving his fiancee unsatisfied. When I demand answers, Melissa puts her foot down, her voice dripping with venom as she says, "All I see now is Nicky." She snaps, "No matter how many times you threaten to pull your investments, my mind's made up!" In that moment, the last ember of love I feel for her goes out. I call my dad, my resolve steeled. "Cut off all funding to Young Group, and buy out every one of her partnerships at triple the price!"

My name is Gabriel Wilson, and my sister is Isabelle Wilson. Growing up, Dad runs our house by making an example out of me. In elementary school, whenever Isabelle misses a single math problem on her homework, Dad forces me to write it out a hundred times. I scribble until my fingers cramp into a knot and I can barely grip the pen, which terrifies Isabelle so much that she stops making careless mistakes altogether. During middle school, Isabelle uses her allowance to buy a ten-dollar bag of snacks for a boy she likes, and the moment Dad finds out, he slashes my monthly allowance from 1,200 dollars down to a measly 200 dollars. For the next month, I survive entirely on cheap, stale bread until I'm rushed to the ER for throwing up bile. Even so, Dad only relents when Isabelle breaks down in tears and promises never to waste another dime. When college rolls around, Isabelle insists on applying to the police academy. Dad tries to talk her out of it, but when he realizes she won't budge, he tells her, "You want to be a cop? Fine. Let me show you what real cops actually have to deal with." He wipes my social security number from the system, stages my disappearance to look like a kidnapping, and dumps me right in the middle of a serial killer's hunting ground. I spend days confined in an abandoned cabin, calling for help until my voice goes hoarse. Blood begins to pool beneath my feet as the serial killer slices my skin with a rusted blade. Back home, Isabelle frantically begs Dad for my tracker. "Dad, please!" she screams. "Just tell me where Gabriel is! I won't join the police force, okay? I'll drop the whole thing!" Even though I'm just on the other side of the wall from them, I can no longer make a sound. My soul drifts in midair as I watch Isabelle collapse onto the floor in despair, sobbing. Dad, I'm done letting you make an example out of me.

My best friend, Billy Steele, gets jilted at the altar by his heartless fiancée, Megan Landry. In tears, he begs my fiancée, Anna Faulkner, to step in and save the day. Anna reassures me, "Craig, Billy and I have known each other since childhood. We're closer than friends. Today's wedding is just a formality. You and I are getting married next week anyway, so think of this as a chance to get familiar with the wedding proceedings." For the sake of our friendship, I grit my teeth and nod in agreement. I watch as Anna, who is supposed to be a bridesmaid, becomes Billy's bride instead. Eyes brimming with love, Anna loops her arm through Billy's during the ceremony. When the officiant asks if she is willing to marry Billy, she answers with even more conviction than she does when I propose to her. I keep reassuring myself that it's all just an act and that I shouldn't take it seriously. But after they exchange rings, the officiant smiles and announces, "The groom may now kiss the bride." The guests immediately erupt into cheers and urge them to kiss. Billy pounds his chest and promises me, "Craig, don't worry. We'll just fake the kiss with a clever angle." I take him at his word. But in the very next second, Anna rises onto her tiptoes and pulls Billy into a deep, passionate kiss right in front of everyone.

The night before the World Cup, Reid Callister made a post on social media. In the photo, he wore a Portugal jersey and was smiling at the woman beside him. He had written something sweet: [Officially done with Argentina. It's all Ronaldo from here.] Our mutual friends all went quiet. Everyone knew that the night Argentina won the championship four years ago, he had cried in my arms until dawn. That was also the night he slipped a ring onto my finger. He said, "Messi got his fairy tale. Let's go get ours." Someone in the comments section asked what happened to his Messi obsession. He replied, "I was young and stupid back then. Now, I know who's worth rooting for." I stared at the post for a long time. I did not comment. I just set down the divorce papers on the coffee table. Before I left for my flight, I tucked the ring into the pocket of his blue-and-white jersey. This time, I would not be watching the game with him.

After two years of barely speaking to my husband, Nathan Holt, the last place I expect to see him is my cousin's dorm. It's freshman move-in day, and he's helping Camille Collett make her bed. Camille is my cousin's roommate. Her eyes crinkle at the corners whenever she smiles. She catches me looking at Nathan and immediately loops her arm through his. "Hi. This is my boyfriend. He was worried about me moving in by myself, so he took the day off to come with me." I think of the text Nathan sent me yesterday. "Business trip. Won't be home this week either." I smile and say nothing. Nathan turns around, and shock flashes across his face the moment he sees me. But he recovers almost instantly and holds out his hand. "Hi, I'm Nathan Holt. I'm not her boyfriend. We're just friends." He's convincing. Anyone watching would think we'd never met before. So I play along and shake his hand. "I'm Natalie Kenney, Esther Sullivan's cousin." Camille gives Nathan an annoyed look. Then she notices the wedding ring on my finger and relaxes a little. "Natalie, you're so pretty. You're already married? But you're so young. What a shame." I look down at my ring. I haven't taken it off once in three years. Then I glance at Nathan's ring finger. It's bare. Suddenly, I can't stand the ring on my finger anymore. I slip it off. "It's not a shame. I'm getting divorced."

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.

When applying for colleges, I give up a prestigious university for Priscilla Reed's sake. But in the fifth year of our relationship, I break up with her. I see her outside the dorms, diving into Jeremy Stark's arms and tilting her face up to kiss him as no one else matters. Priscilla sneers at me. "You're just some farmer. What kind of life can you possibly give me?" She seems to forget that the Chanel dress she wears and the Hermès bag she carries are things I bought for her. That's the moment I end things with her. Let someone else play the doormat. I'm done. After that, I focus on farming, even managing to grow crops on the moon. Then, the press reveals who I really am—the son of Javonbury's richest man. Jeremy's father comes to me, bowing and scraping. He even forces Jeremy to kneel in front of me so that he can beg me for a partnership. Priscilla's eyes are red and swollen as she tugs on my sleeve and tells me she regrets everything.

I’m about to enter a blood bond with another vampire lord. But my partner of a century, Kaelan, has no idea. He’s too busy getting cozy with his new human assistant, Sylvia. They spend entire nights in his office, under the guise of “researching synthetic blood.” He even turned our centennial anniversary into her birthday party. In front of everyone, Kaelan presented her with a Black Forest cake decorated with Silver Bells. They laughed, smearing frosting on each other. They forgot the flowers are a deadly poison to me. My power shattered. Agony ripped through me as shadows lashed out, uncontrollable. My family’s guards had to drag my convulsing body away. And while I recovered alone in the cold, dark vault, Kaelan was still at the party, bathing in the cheers for him and Sylvia. The blood in my veins turned to ice. A century of love and hope burned to ash. In that moment, I agreed to my family's arrangement. Without hesitation. A union with the lord of the Obsidian Throne—a vampire they say is power incarnate.

During the loneliest year of my life, I start bankrolling my sweet, innocent girlfriend, Grace Bishop. When I later decide to go abroad to recover from my illness, she cries by my bedside all night. Still, I refuse to let her come with me. "Staying here is crucial for your career. I hope that when I'm back, you'll have already received the Best Actress award." Three years later, she does get crowned Best Actress of the Year. But when I'm finally back, there's no sign of the welcome she had promised. Instead, I see a guy who seems as close to her as family lounging around my mansion in my clothes, acting as if the place belongs to him. Daniel Greene toys with my priceless emerald ring. "You should thank me for letting you see the kind of wealth you could only dream of. But looking is all you get. Don't touch a single thing. You'll never be able to afford the damage." I yank my ring off his finger and slap him across the face. "I just touched something. Now what?"

Three days before our wedding, I found out I was pregnant with Matteo Calderone's baby. I hurried to tell him, only to find my best friend, Raffaella Moro, crying in his arms. "What am I going to do... It's his baby... That man from the projects... He forced me..." Matteo gently patted her back, his chin resting on her head. His voice was softer than I'd ever heard it. "Don't be scared. I promise you, I'll take care of you and the baby. "Even after I'm married, this will be the only child I ever have." I stood around the corner in the hallway, the doctor's report crumpled in my fist. For three years, I'd followed them everywhere. I'd taken a knife for Raffaella, fought Matteo's fights, and cleaned up more of their messes than I could count. I did it all because I couldn't bear to lose either of them: my boyfriend or my best friend. Raffaella cried herself out and fell asleep in Matteo's arms. Finally, Matteo turned around and glanced at me. "Oh, right, Elena. How did your checkup go?" I opened my mouth, but barely got a word out. He waved me off and turned back to Raffaella. "You're strong and healthy. I'm sure you're fine. Raffaella's been through so much. I need to stay with her. Don't overthink it." I stayed where I was. I watched him hold Raffaella's hand and brush a tear from the corner of her eye with his thumb. The wall lights cast their shadows across the floor until they merged into one. I stood at the edge of their shadows and realized there was no place for me beside them. I stuffed the report into my pocket, turned, and left the exam room. I took out my satellite phone and called the number I'd saved three years ago but never used. "Father, I lost. "I'm ready to do what the family wants."

Ever since the couples' account Sean Deaver and I run together has gone viral, my biggest dread has been filming our daily videos. On camera, Sean and my best friend, Jodie Steele, act like the perfect couple. They're always over each other, while I'm not even allowed to show so much as a hand. In the first year, Sean wipes the cream from the corner of Jodie's mouth, then pops his finger straight into his mouth. When I confront him, he simply pinches my cheek and flashes me an indulgent smile. "Aw, someone's jealous," he coos. "It's all for the cameras, babe. Don't make a big deal out of nothing." The following year, Sean takes on a challenge to sneak ten kisses on his girlfriend while they eat without getting caught. When I question him about it, he answers so smoothly that it's as though he's rehearsed his excuse in advance. "Babe, this challenge is huge right now. It'll bring tons of traffic to our account." This year, they've promised to finally set the record straight. But just as we are about to put an end to the charade, they sign on for a dating reality show. When the host eggs them on to kiss, Sean leans down in front of everyone and plants a very real kiss on Jodie's lips. Afterward, they come to comfort me. "Sasha, it was all ed. Don't let it get to you." I've always believed that getting married would finally put an end to this suffocating life. But Sean hesitated. "The show's getting great numbers now," he says, holding up his phone. "The producers want us to ride the hype and stage a fake wedding over the next few days. It'll make our account even bigger." I look at the countdown I've been keeping track of. It was day 1,825. I nod in silence, and Sean reaches out to ruffle my hair. "I knew you'd understand. Once filming wraps, I'll marry you for real. I promise." "Forget it," I say, simply brushing his hand away. "Sean, I'm done with you."

My wife's family ran on the old logic: sons mattered, daughters were a tax. They called my five-year-old daughter "the cash drain" to her face. On New Year's Day, my wife told me my daughter was donating a kidney to her cousin. I was about to lose it on every adult in that room when something appeared in the air in front of me, a column of text only I could see: [Is this woman seriously the mother? She says it's a kidney transplant, but she actually wants the kid's heart.] [If I had a mom like that I'd have cut her off years ago.]