Melodramatic Short Stories & Bias Family Emotions Novels

My stepsister falsely accuses me of causing her allergies to act up. My three brothers stuff me into the cramped cellar and chain the door shut. I pound on the door and beg them to let me out. My eldest brother, an outstanding businessman, snaps, "It's bad enough that you keep bullying Lori. How could you make her eat seafood when you know she's allergic to it? Isn't that just murder? Stay in there and reflect on your mistakes!" My second brother, an award-winning singer, and my third brother, a genius painter, scoff contemptuously. "It's unbelievable that someone as evil as you is making excuses to garner pity. You can stay in there and repent for your sins!" After that, they take our shuddering stepsister to the hospital. The oxygen in the cellar soon runs out, and it gets difficult to breathe. Ultimately, I die in there. My brothers only remember me three days later when they bring our stepsister back from the hospital. Unbeknownst to them, I've already died of asphyxiation.

My sister and I got into a car crash. My heart was ruptured, and I needed immediate surgery if I were to live. My mother, being the director of her hospital, sent all the doctors to my sister instead, all just to check on her. She barely got hurt. I pleaded and begged for my mother to save me, but impatience got the better of her. She roared, "This isn't the time to take any attention away from your sister! She almost had a bone fracture!" And I died. I remember where it was. It was a freezing operating theater.

My family had always prioritized fairness, because my brother and sister were twins and would start fighting if our parents so much as showed a hint of favoritism. That was why they always had equal portions for them—one for John, the other for Jane. "What about me?" I asked my mother, only to get yelled at. "Can you stop?! We already have our hands full with your twin siblings!" Later, my father bought a six-seater for our family of five. However, when the family headed out for a trip, the remaining two seats were taken by Jane's pet dog and John's pet cat. As I stood outside gingerly under the rain, Jane glared at me warily while shouldering her dog, while John snorted. "We agreed to be fair. No one gets to take my cat's seat." My father shot me a look of annoyance. "Don't you have better things to do?" I was shivering from the cold, but I smiled at him nonetheless. "Yeah, I won't be joining you guys." After that, I submitted my national athlete application to my counselor, Mr. Ackles. If there was no fairness for me even after twenty years, I had no reason to stay.

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 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.

On our son's fifth birthday, the three of us went to watch a meteor shower. In the middle of it, my husband answered a phone call and left in a hurry. Late that night, our son had an asthma attack. The only medicine he needed was in my husband's car. I clutched my son and ran through the empty wilderness, stumbling in the dark as I called my husband over and over again. All I got back was an icy message: [Something urgent. Do not disturb.] The next day, he finally called. However, the voice on the other end was not his. "Last night, my dog suddenly fell ill and died. Elias was worried I wouldn't take it well, so he stayed with me all night. He has just fallen asleep. If you have anything to say, you can tell me." I stroked my son's pale, bluish face. "Tell him," I said, "we're getting a divorce."

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.

Once again, I had an episode. My best friend rushed forward and snatched the knife from my hand, her face twisted with resentment. "How long are you going to keep this up? You think you can act however you want just because you have depression? No wonder Nolan left you!" I froze. My best friend, however, looked relieved. "I should have told you sooner. Nolan specifically asked me to stay with you today because he was afraid you'd try to ruin his wedding to Evelyn." She blocked the doorway, looking self-righteous. "Let me make this clear. Even if you cut your wrists and died right here today, you still can't keep trying to come between them. So what if you once helped Nolan? After all these years of him taking care of you, he's more than paid you back!" Not long after, my mother hurried over to take my best friend's place. She was supposed to be one of the bridesmaids. My mother pleaded with me. "Our family wouldn't have made it this far without Nolan. You have to be a good person and let him go find his happiness." A crushing sense of absurdity washed over me. Nolan Drake's message was still sitting quietly on my phone. "Honey, I'm going overseas to see a doctor who's important to you. Don't worry. I'll make sure you get better. Once you're well, we'll get married." I collapsed to the floor, tears falling silently onto the screen. They had no idea I had cancer. I had already decided I did not want to become a burden to Nolan. I gave my mother a bitter smile. "Fine. I promise. I'll give Nolan what he wants."

My wife made me get a vasectomy. Not once, but ninety-nine times. Right before the hundredth operation, the doctor looked at me with pity in his eyes as the anesthesia failed to fully kick in. "Ms. Gibson really knows how to destroy a man," he murmured. "She's put him through ninety-nine vasectomies, then had them reversed—again and again. However, his body's long since broken. There's no chance of children now." "It's probably for her ex. Word is, it's his own brother. The scandals in these wealthy families—unbelievable." Because of a hospital mix-up at birth, my and Jeff Cunningham's fates were exchanged. He grew up with the Cunningham family, while I lived a poor life. Years later, my parents found the truth, taking me in and sending Jeff away. To make things worse, I became Wynnie Gibson's new fiancé. I once asked her, barely able to speak through the pain, why she would marry someone she did not love. She looked at me calmly. "To get revenge," she said. "You came home and stole Jeff's place. He was the one I love. He drank himself to death after you returned." Even my biological parents knew she was poisoning me. However, they turned a blind eye. They did nothing to stop her. They knew Wynnie had got pregnant with Jeff's child through IVF—planning to raise the child and let him inherit the family fortune. I coughed up blood and threw myself into the sea. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day I was first reunited with them. This time, when I saw the sorrow in their eyes—sorrow not for me, but for the son they lost— I chose to let them go.

The day I got laid off, I called my boyfriend, but he never picked up. I rode home on my electric scooter in the pouring rain, soaked to the skin, clutching a cardboard box as I awkwardly pushed open the front door. The house was packed. My family, relatives, and friends were all there. In the middle of the room, my boyfriend and my best friend stood before my parents, accepting their congratulations as the newlyweds. The moment I appeared, the lively room fell deathly silent. The cardboard box slipped from my hands, scattering its contents across the floor. Zane Ward walked toward me, looking at me calmly. "What are you doing here?" I stared at him, my voice trembling as I demanded an answer. "What… What are you doing?" His expression was complicated, but he finally let out a long sigh. "Sophia and I got married last year. We're just having the wedding ceremony today." A roar filled my ears. Without thinking, I raised my hand and slapped him hard across the face. "Get out! Both of you, get out! This is my house! All of you, get out!" The next second, one of my friends shoved me outside. They shielded the newlyweds behind them. "How could you hit him?" "Exactly. We only kept it from you because we were afraid you'd be hurt. Otherwise, Zane would have broken up with you a long time ago!" Amid the chaotic shouting, my parents walked over to me, disappointment written across their faces. "This house doesn't belong to you. We gave it to Sophia as their new home." "Today is their wedding day. Don't make a scene. Just go back to your room." The blood in my veins seemed to freeze. Five years together. Three years living under the same roof. My boyfriend had become my best friend's legal husband. My parents had secretly given them a home to start their married life. Every relative and friend had gathered to wish them well. And there I stood, like some pathetic fool, making a spectacle of myself.

A priest has shown up at my first birthday party. He claims that I'm a cursed soul—that my presence will bring doom to those close to me, and my existence itself can snatch everyone's luck. The only way to counter this is to give me up to an orphanage and let me live a life of poverty and suffering. Without a family, I'll be able to overcome my fate as a cursed soul. Daddy has the priest cast out of our home immediately. Meanwhile, Mommy hugs me tightly. "My son is the luckiest boy in the whole wide world!" But everything has changed when my younger brother, Andy Lawson, has fallen off the 20th floor. His body is completely shattered from the fall. I can only stand by the window uneasily. Fear is evident in my eyes as I wave my hands with all my might. "It wasn't me! It really wasn't me!" The wind that day is very strong, but it can never drown out Mommy's cries. Daddy hoists me up and stuffs me into Andy's coffin. I keep latching onto the sides of the coffin to the point my fingers are all bloodied and trampled over. At the same time, I keep screaming for Mommy. Mommy stares at me blankly at first. But her hollow gaze is soon filled with hatred. "Why aren't you the one dead? That priest told us that you'll have to stay in the coffin for seven whole days and nights just to atone for your sins! Only then can Andy's soul rest in peace! "This is your fate and your sin, Adam!" The heavy lid slowly covers the coffin, soon sealing my hoarse cries and screams away. A long time later, a few voices ring out amid the sorrowful melody played by the organ. "Why is there a tiny gap in the coffin? Hurry up and nail it shut! We can't afford to have misfortune spread to us!" When the final nail is bolted onto the lid, I close my eyes. Mommy, Daddy, I'm no longer a cursed soul.

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."

On our wedding anniversary, my husband left me standing in the pouring rain so he could drive his secretary home. That was the last straw for me, and I asked for a divorce. I gave up custody of our son, but Charlie simply gave me a cold look. "What, are you trying to use our child as an excuse to keep clinging to me?" I smiled and said nothing. I would not. Because I had heard the son I had nearly died giving birth to mutter in his sleep, "I want Megan to be my mom. Dad and I will protect her."

On the third day of my business trip out of state, someone new joined the group chat formed for my son's class. It had been quiet for weeks when she suddenly sent a voice message. I tapped it, and an unfamiliar woman's voice played through my phone. "Hello, everyone. I'm the new language teacher at the school, and I'm also Tony Gardner's mother. Looking forward to getting to know you all!" My whole body went cold. I opened the group member list and checked it over and over. My son's name was Tony Gardner, and she said she was Tony Gardner's mother. Then, who the hell was I? I immediately called my husband. "Did someone get added to the parent group by mistake?" He paused on the other end before he laughed it off like it was nothing. "Oh, probably just a mix-up. The school has so many kids. It's not unusual for kids to have the same names. What's the matter? Did something happen?" I kept my voice light and told him everything was fine. The second I hung up, I booked the next flight home and headed straight to my son's school.

After being missing for eighteen years, I was finally found by my wealthy birth parents. The impostor—the young man who had taken my place all this time—dropped to his knees, sobbing. "Goodbye, Mom and Dad. Thank you for raising me. Now that Jason is back, this family doesn't need me anymore." My parents hugged him with heartbreaking tenderness. "Don't be ridiculous," they said. "You're our only real son." Even my fiancée confessed her love to him. "I don't care who you really are. You're the only one I love." They all orbited around him, like planets around the sun. When I was nearly killed in a car accident, they were too busy throwing a birthday party for his dog. So I packed my things in silence. Without a word, I accepted an invitation from the space agency to join a five-year satellite research mission in complete isolation. Yet after I left, it was like the whole family lost their minds. They scoured the entire country, desperate to find any trace of me.

I was the one who first spotted the pimple on my husband Ryan Bennett's back. It was plump, red, and swollen, topped with a whitehead that looked ready to burst at any moment. I rubbed my hands together in excitement and told him not to move. Once the extraction tool I'd ordered arrived, I was going to perform a little "operation" on it. He laughed and said sure, adding that he loved this weird little hobby of mine. Two days later, he came back from his business trip. I rushed over with my brand-new "surgical instruments," only to find that patch of skin smooth and clear, with nothing left but a faint red mark. My heart deflated just like that pimple. Someone had beaten me to it.

I suffer from a hereditary form of amnesia. By the time I found out, I had only seven days left. On the first day, I found my boyfriend had fallen for my younger twin sister. With a bitter smile, I suggested we break up. On the second day, my most treasured Lego set was smashed by my sister. Everyone laughed at me, saying I was disgraceful, unworthy of being a daughter of the Fleming family. On the fourth day, I forgot that my sister was allergic to mangoes. She ended up in the hospital, and my parents glared at me with resentment. Even my ex-boyfriend accused me of being heartless. On the seventh day, I woke up in a hospital bed to see my father walking in with a stern expression. He demanded that I quit my job and devote myself entirely to taking care of the family, as nothing more than a housekeeper. But I only looked at them in confusion and asked softly, “Who are you?” When they realized I had truly lost my memory, they lost their minds.

When I was ten, I accidentally overheard my mother on the phone. It seemed like she was talking about me being a switched-at-birth rich girl, and that my real last name was Gardner. The coldness and cruelty my mother had shown me all these years suddenly made sense. When I turned 11, I paid an adult to get a maternity test done for both my mother and me. The results confirmed that I was indeed her biological daughter. I kept the report to myself and pretended I was still in the dark.

My mom and dad died heroically in a fire rescue, trying to protect an orphan. Afterward, my brother brought the orphan, Audrey, home. To make her smile, he'd throw away photos of me and our parents. He even kicked me out in front of everyone. For Audrey's coming-of-age celebration, he took her to Cranburn—the place I'd always dreamed of going. In his eyes, I had nowhere else to go. He believed that once I realized I was wrong, I'd come back on my own. But what he didn't know was—I had joined an overseas rescue team. This might be the last time we ever see each other.

The day I get accepted into Westbridge University at 18 years old, my oldest sister, Claire Whitmore, secretly hides my acceptance letter. Why? Because she's finally found Ethan Whitmore, my twin brother who was separated from our family years ago. Heartbroken over everything he's supposedly suffered, Claire decides I owe him compensation and demands that I give him my place at Westbridge University. Of course I refuse. Claire slaps me across the face. "You've had everything handed to you your whole life! Is it really so much to ask you to give your brother this one thing?" Even Grace Bennett, the woman I've loved for three years, chooses Ethan over me. "I can't stand petty, selfish men. So what if you're smarter than him? Ethan has more character than you ever will." I'm devastated. Then, Ethan frames me for something I didn't do, and Claire sends me away to an isolated town in the middle of nowhere. Three years later, Ethan gets engaged to Grace, and their extravagant engagement celebration becomes the talk of the city. Only then does Claire finally remember I exist. "It's been three years. Surely you've learned how to get along with Ethan by now." She looks pleased when I lower my head obediently before her. What she doesn't know is that those three years in the countryside have destroyed my health. And I only have three days left to live.