Melodramatic Short Stories & Bias Family Emotions Novels

My husband's childhood sweetheart was diagnosed with a terminal illness. To fulfill her last wishes and let her experience the warmth of family, my husband, Aaron Turner, gave her my necklace. He even let her claim my birthday. Even our son started calling her "Mom" in private. He told me, "Chrishell, Sylvia is dying. Just give in to her, will you?" Whenever I asked him to spare even a little time and affection for me, our son, Lucas, would rush to speak on their behalf. "Mom, didn't you always teach me to be generous? Sylvia is dying. Why do you always make things difficult for her?" Over time, I stopped asking for anything at all. Then one night, I overheard my son speaking to his father after returning from the hospital. "Sylvia is so gentle and graceful. I wish Mom could be more like her." Aaron chuckled and affectionately brushed his hand over our son's hair. "Your mom may be a little strict, but it's all for your own good. Since you like Sylvia so much, how about we let her be your godmother?" So even the child I risked my life to bring into this world didn't like me. I lowered my gaze, quietly closed the bedroom door, and pretended none of it had happened. Since they were both filled with such regret, I'd leave quietly and give them what they wanted.

When my sister and I were born, a prophet foretold that my sister would fall into a deep depression because I was more gifted than she was. On the day of the Fire Dragon Clan's Trial, she would throw herself into the frozen lake and never resurface. To protect her, my parents locked me in the freezing chamber on the day of the Trial. I knelt and begged them until my knees bled. My mother shoved me inside and sealed the door from the outside with a barrier. "You know your sister will die because of you, and you still insist on taking the Trial? How is that anything but trying to get her killed?" The chamber had already dropped to a hundred and twelve degrees below zero, yet I was wearing nothing but a short-sleeved shirt. I threw myself against the barrier, desperate to break out. "Mother, it's freezing in here! Please let me out!" "You're a fire dragon. A little cold can't hurt you. Who are you trying to fool?" My mother's voice was edged with impatience. "The barrier blocks your magic, but we didn't even turn on the refrigeration system. Your sister will be safe soon. Can't you think of her for once?" The sound of their wingbeats faded. My scales cracked from the cold, and blood dripped onto the floor. The barrier had sealed away my magic, and the chill quickly sank deep into my bones. I knelt on the floor as my body stiffened, inch by inch.

When our whole family saw the death timer for my sister will end on her sixteenth birthday, she became the most important person in the family. She suddenly took priority in everything, from food to dresses, and even bedtime stories. I felt for her, but I was also jealous that she was given everything. However, a day before her sixteenth birthday, my parents locked me up in the storeroom in fear that I would make a mess of things. I kept hammering the door, crying, "Mom, let me out! I'm having a fever, and my head hurts!" Mom didn't believe me. "Just stop! Your sister will die in just a day, and you're playing sick to gain our sympathy?! Don't you understand anything?!" "No…" I tried my best to argue, only to hear my parents comforting my sister. Eventually, my consciousness blurred, and I heard nothing…

Ten years ago, I ditched a high-paying job for my family. A decade later, they asked for my kidney—supposedly for my daughter, Talia. Turns out, the real patient was Hudson's first love's son. They didn't even fake remorse. Hudson sneered, convinced I couldn't survive without him. Talia called me old and fat, acting like I should be grateful to help Bianca's kid. A whole decade of sacrifice, and what did I get? No love. No thanks. Just entitlement. To them, I was nothing but a free, disposable maid. So I walked. No regrets. I rebuilt my life, found a job, and never looked back. Then reality smacked them. Hudson and Talia finally realized everything I'd done. They begged me to come back—but my heart was already stone-cold. In the end, I left the country, threw myself into work, and finally learned what it meant to live.

My wealthy parents, Derek Miller and Veronica Wright, worry that my brother Wilbur Miller and I will abuse our power and status. To prevent this, they assign us to their aviation company, forcing us to work the longest and most exhausting flights. During one flight to Kampland, a riot breaks out in the country, and the return flight is canceled. I call Mom and Dad, begging them to send a plane to bring Wilbur and me home, but they rebuke me coldly. "William Miller, fearlessness in the face of danger is the most basic quality of a flight attendant! Stop thinking about running away from your problems! You will return only when that return flight does." Desperate, Wilbur and I pull every string we can to buy tickets back home. But on the day of departure, my phone shows that our tickets are canceled and refunded. Just as I'm about to call the airline, Mom and Dad call instead. "If everyone else is staying, then why the hell should you get special treatment? I've already refunded the tickets. Don't even think about coming back by any means other than that return flight!" With that, they hang up and block us from purchasing any more tickets. Later, everyone else stranded abroad is safely sent home except for Wilbur and me. Wilbur is accidentally killed in the riots, while I am rescued by the embassy at the very brink of death. As I numbly handle Wilbur's funeral arrangements, I see a post online from my adopted younger brother, Corbin Miller. "I have the best parents in the world! They are so worried I'll get into danger abroad that they sent ten planes to escort me home!" This time, I don't make a scene. Instead, I calmly like the post and comment, "Your parents are so good to you. I wish the three of you a lifetime of happiness as a family."

The night before the design competition, my husband took my design draft, promising to secure a patent to protect my work. In the intense competition, my work stood out and won first place. During the award ceremony, I walked on stage wearing the necklace that my daughter and I had made together. Suddenly, my seven-year-old daughter rushed up to the stage, screaming, "Mom, how could you steal Veronica's necklace? That's horrible and embarrassing. Just come down and go home with me."

At the orphanage gates, the fake heiress stole my proof of identity and slipped into a waiting luxury car, smiling triumphantly. I leaned against the attic while waving goodbye to her. "Have a safe journey, my scapegoat." In my past life, I was taken back to a wealthy family. I thought I'd found my family. My adoptive parents smiled at me, bought me dresses, and called me their darling daughter. Three months later, I was wheeled into an operating room. My heart was removed. I died on the operating table. They didn't even hold a funeral for me. After being reborn, I wanted to make everyone pay the price. This time, it was them who should be on the operating table.

From the time I was ten until I turned eighteen, my parents made me write 299 IOUs. Every time I needed money, I had to borrow it and pay it back as an adult. Then I got into a car accident. I needed money for surgery but was still short by 3,000. With no other options, I went to my parents for help. But they just gave me cold smiles. “Clara, you’re eighteen now. We have no obligation to give you money anymore. If you need it, write another IOU.” While holding back tears, I wrote my 300th IOU. After my surgery, I saw my adopted sister’s social media post. In the pictures, she was celebrating her 18th birthday on a cruise. She was the center of attention, like a princess. My parents had given her a luxury apartment in the city and a Maserati as birthday gifts. Even my childhood friend was looking at her with love in his eyes. She said they were the ones she loved and thanked them for giving her the best of everything. I looked down at the crumpled IOU in my hand and suddenly laughed. Once I paid off my debt, I would no longer need such a family.

On Christmas, my younger brother, Tyler Posner, and I were playing “Never Have I Ever” with our relatives. After the third round, everything got intense. An uncle said he had been out in the city at 4 a.m., a cousin said he could play three instruments, and I said I had been to three different countries for work. Then, it was Tyler’s turn. He looked up with his eyes shining. “I have a house that only I own.” He paused before adding, “Mom bought it for me. She said it’s so my in-laws don’t look down on me after I marry someone.” Everyone was quiet around the dining table. I looked over at Mom. She was straightening her apron and avoiding my gaze.

She coveted everything about me. My possessions, my experiences, and even my men. So one night, my mother pushed me into an older man's bedroom. The next day, she asked with a smug smile, "Nina, how was your night with the older guy?" I rubbed my sore waist, recalling his broad shoulders, long legs, and trim waist from the night before. I smiled as I answered her. "That fiancé of mine is all yours now. Just remember—I’ll be your Aunt-in-law in the future.”

On the day of my wedding, my parents suddenly show up at my house with my fiancé, Yoseph Caldwell. They say they've decided the bride is going to change. "Your sister's terminally ill, and her only wish is to marry Yoseph. You're her younger sister, so be generous and help her out." Yoseph chimes in calmly, "Don't worry. It's just a ceremony. Once she passes, you and I can still get the marriage certificate." When I refuse, my parents tie me up. "We'll let you out once the wedding's over." But not long after they leave, an intruder breaks in and brutally murders me. By the time they finally remember me, all that's left is my rotting corpse.

After our eighty-eighth canceled wedding, I called my business partner. "I'm taking the Haviana market project." There was a beat of stunned silence. "Seriously? That's ten years overseas. You just got married—well, weren't you? Does your husband even know? What about your parents? You always said staying close to them was everything." I glanced around the empty church and let out a sharp laugh. "There was no wedding. No husband. And my parents? They've got Cindy. That's all they need." Another pause. "Alright. Pack your bags. You leave tomorrow." After the call, I ran a hand down my wedding dress. One last tear slipped out, quiet and pointless. Cindy had another "episode" today. Claimed she'd off herself. Andrew canceled—again. I'd looked at him, drained. "It's the eighty-eighth time." He dropped his head, guilt all over him. "Just a little more time, Viv. She's been off since the accident. I'm scared she'll actually do it. I swear, I'll talk to her. For real this time. Then we'll get married. Promise." My parents didn't hesitate. "Vivian, let Andrew go. If Cindy hadn't gotten kidnapped trying to save you, she wouldn't have these breakdowns. Are you really putting a wedding over your sister's life?" "How could you be so selfish?" I'd heard it all before. Used to fight it. Not this time. If neither my fiancé nor my parents wanted me around, then fine. I'd leave.

My mom kindly took in the daughter of her deceased friend. Unexpectedly, the girl smoked, drank, fought, and refused to improve. She even fell madly in love with the school bully and jumped into a river to prove her love for him. My mom tried to save her, but the girl pushed her head underwater. The girl was rescued and embraced by the bully, but my mom drowned. Reborn, I stopped my mom from jumping in, but she shoved me into the river, shouting, "Why isn't it you jumping in?"

By the fifth year since the return of the real heir, Danny, to the family, I had gotten used to the plain oatmeal on the table. The second I asked for a bigger portion or more protein, Danny would express his envy toward me, his eyes downcast. “Rhys sure enjoys such a hearty meal, unlike me. Growing up in an orphanage, I was hungry all the time. I wince at the sight of meat. I don’t deserve to eat.” My parents shed tears of heartache while accusing me of rubbing it in Danny’s face. Later, whenever I dressed up to go out, Danny would let out a wry smile. “Rhys is so put together. That’s so not me. I grew up in the countryside, feeding livestock. Even all the designer clothes in the world can’t hide the fact that I was a farm hand.” My fiancée, Kyra, would always be there to hold my hand. She said, “It’s not your fault, Rhys. Don’t put this on yourself.” On the day of our engagement, Danny stared at the ring on my finger, his face brooding. “You have occupied my place for twenty years. Your fiancée and the life of luxury were never meant to be yours. Don’t you ever wake up in the middle of the night, feeling the weight on your conscience?” All eyes were on me, their silent judgment cutting into me. With years of pent-up emotions breaking free, I pulled a punch. My parents smashed the cake onto my head. Kyra, on the other hand, took out a handkerchief to wipe away Danny’s tears. That very night, I left a formal writing to cut all legal and personal ties with them.

I fell in love with a man I should never have touched—my brother-in-law, Lucas Zahn. The first time he came to our home with my sister, Quincy, they looked like the perfect couple. He smiled at me, held out a peace talisman bracelet, and said it would keep me safe. I wore it like it was the most precious thing in the world. When the old injury in my ankle flared up, he would scoop me into his arms and rush me to the hospital without a second thought. When thugs tried to harass me, he made them scatter with a single look, then spoke to me in a voice so gentle it made my heart tremble. I told myself I understood—that everything he did was only because I was Quincy’s younger sister. Even so, I clung to those rare moments when I could be near him. Until the night Lucas was drugged by an enemy, his life teetering on the edge. If no one acted, he would die. So, I acted. On that reckless, desperate night, my sister walked in. The sight struck her like a lightning bolt, and she collapsed, her weak heart seizing on the spot. What came next was madness. In a frenzy of rage and panic, Lucas tied me to an operating table. His hands—those hands I once longed to hold—cut open my chest and tore my heart out for her. “When the avalanche hit, Quincy nearly died saving me. I swore I’d treat her well for the rest of my life. That means loving her family, too. I never thought you’d be so shameless. “This is what you owe her!” He never knew that I was the one who saved him in that avalanche. So, I died in agony, my love carved out of me—literally. When my eyes opened again, I found myself back on the night he was drunk.

To give me an edge on my college entrance exam, my parents spend a fortune on a lifelike "study buddy" robot. The day the robot walks through the door, every hobby I have gets the axe. Dad calls my screen time a waste of my life, and Mom decides I can't even eat as efficiently as the robot. My twin brother, Charlie Hartman, piles on, "What do you even do besides drag this family down?" I snap and yank out the robot's charging cable. Mom loses it, grabs me by the hair, and slaps me across the face. "That robot is your role model. If you had half its discipline, I wouldn't be getting called into school by your teachers every other day! "Get yourself to that military boarding academy and learn how to be a real student!" I get forced onto a windowless bus. A year later, the final bell rings at the end of the program, and my parents show up at the gate with my twin to pick me up. They wave and shout my name, but I stand motionless under the blazing sun like a statue. The headmaster pushes his glasses up and says flatly, "Mrs. Hartman, you'll need to scan the barcode on his neck first. Then you enter the passcode, and Candidate 985 will disengage from lock mode."

My wife, Sarah, was the executive chef at a renowned Michelin-starred restaurant in town. Her culinary creations were famous across the city, making a reservation nearly impossible to secure. Yet in our ten years of marriage, she had never cooked me a single meal at home. She always claimed that cooking was just her job, and when she came home, she didn’t want to set foot in the kitchen. Naturally, I wanted to visit her restaurant and taste her food. However, every time I brought it up, she insisted that all the tables were fully booked and told me not to make a scene. Everything changed when my mother’s seventieth birthday approached. Half a month in advance, I asked Sarah if she could reserve a table at her restaurant for a family celebration. To my surprise, she readily agreed. On the day of the dinner, I walked arm-in-arm with my mother, followed by around thirty of our relatives. Yet, when we arrived, the receptionist informed us there was no reservation under our name at all. Panicked, I called Sarah more than a dozen times, and she didn’t answer a single call. With no other choice, I swallowed my pride and rushed in, hoping to find her so she could let us in. The moment I pushed the doors open, I froze. Sarah stood there in a spotless white apron, meticulously placing a tiny chocolate car onto a five-tiered birthday cake, and standing right beside her was Mark, her high school sweetheart. As it turned out, today was his son's first birthday party. So it was never that she didn’t know how to care for her family; it was simply that I was never the family she cared about. I quietly backed out of the room, turned around, and reserved a table at another restaurant instead. If she didn’t want to cook for me, then from this day on, I would never ask for her cooking again.

On our eighth anniversary, my boyfriend, Liam Daniels, dragged me along to plan his marriage proposal. That exact morning, my pregnancy test came back positive. Outwardly, I teased him for ruining the surprise. Privately, I called everyone I knew to brag. My parents wept over the phone, saying time flew by too fast. My best friend, Mia Kyle, promised to beat him up if he ever stepped out of line. Even my older sister, Sarah Davis, choked up, swearing she would be there no matter how busy work got. On the big night, I wore the white dress Liam bought me. When I stepped into the venue, I realized the proposal had been transformed into a full wedding reception. I watched Liam Daniels as he dropped to one knee, tears in his eyes while looking at my adopted sister, Tiana. "Will you marry me?" he asked her. My parents stepped out from behind the curtain holding fresh bouquets. "Tiana, we want your happiness more than anything. Stop giving up your dreams for your sister." Mia Kyle walked onstage carrying the ring box. "As your best friend, I just want you to put yourself first for once." Sarah pulled a stack of property deeds from her bag. "Here's your dowry. No one will ever push you around again." I froze. I was never the bride. I was just an unpaid wedding planner. Everyone I loved had helped construct the lie.

Shortly after I married Andrew Lorne, my mother-in-law has my husband's widowed sister-in-law move in with us. She wants my husband to bear the responsibility of caring for two families. My husband says he wouldn't be who he is without his elder brother's help, so he won't let his sister-in-law suffer. And so, she and her son steal my home and my husband's love. Meanwhile, my daughter and I are banished to the countryside. On the first day of our banishment, I'm violated and murdered by beggars who barge into the house. … It takes three years for my husband to remember me. He comes to the countryside to take me home. "Come out, Jovana. I'll immediately bring you home as long as you agree to give your property to Tiana as an apology for the things you've done." As soon as the words are out of his mouth, my daughter emerges from the yard, which is overgrown with weeds. She tells him I was dead. He doesn't believe her. He allows his mother to beat my daughter half to death and berates me while he's at it. "How dare you, Jovana! You haven't learned your lesson at all, have you? These dirty tricks are all you know, and you even taught our daughter to lie! It's been years, yet you still can't compare to Tiana!"

My bride went missing on the night of our big day but woke up in my brother's room the next day. My parents persuaded me to ignore it for the sake of fame but scolded my wife as an easy girl. Angrily, I moved out of the villa with my wife. Soon after, my wife had a miscarriage and suffered from depression due to gossip. She jumped off from the top floor in front of me. Desperately, I followed her. Opening my eyes again, I found myself back to the time when the wedding ended.