Cerita Pendek & Novel Bias Female Growth

After being reborn, I make up my mind to stop chasing after my childhood crush, Emil McLaren. When he puts up a sign banning my presence at his birthday party, I pack my bags and decide to go to Wanoki Island. When he says my scent makes his house feel nauseating, I quietly move out without complaint. When he says he doesn't want to breathe the same city air as me after our graduation, I leave and never look back. Then he tells me my existence might make his beloved first love uncomfortable. I nod and soon go public with someone else. In this life, I do the opposite of everything I did before. Because in my past life, I got what I wanted—I married Emil. But then his first love jumped off a cliff. He called me her murderer and tormented me. In the end, I jumped into the sea in a state of mental confusion and died. This time, all I want is to live. So, I find myself someone new. However, Emil blocks my path, his eyes bloodshot as he glares at me. "Penelope, I'll forgive this little joke of yours if you come with me right now."

The end of the world was upon us, but there weren't enough spots for evacuation. The roars of the zombies echoed in my ears as my fiancé, Oliver, gritted his teeth and pulled me onto the rescue vehicle—securing the last available seat. I arrived safely at the survivor base. Lina, his first love, did not. The zombies tore her apart. Oliver still went through with our marriage, but I never expected that he had only done so to make me suffer. In his eyes, I was the one who had killed Lina. If she had to endure such agony, then I should, too. For five years, he hated me. My life was worse than that of a stray dog scavenging for food on the street. On the day my divorce was finalized, he kidnapped me, dragged me into the wilderness, and wrapped his fingers around my throat. Then, he threw us both into the swarm of the undead. When I opened my eyes again, I was somehow reborn on the day the apocalypse began. The rescue team was shouting impatiently, "One more! We have room for one more—hurry!" I turned to Oliver, watching his hesitation. Then, with a quiet smile, I took a step back and let someone else have the last seat.

Vincenzo Moretti was Stonehaven’s youngest financial titan— a tech mogul commanding a multibillion-dollar empire, gracing the covers of business magazines as a modern legend. But only a select few knew the truth: he was also the ruthless Don controlling the East Coast mafia. To him, wealth and power were mere chips in a game. And I? I was just another pawn used to stabilize a fragile family alliance. In our ten-year marriage, he slept with my friends, my coworkers… every single person I once trusted. Then one morning, as I took our one-month-old baby for a routine checkup, Sienna Newton, his latest mistress, ran me down with her car. The baby screamed endlessly. I begged her to take us to the hospital, and when Vincenzo arrived, he looked at me with cold disdain. “Isabella,” he sneered, “when did you learn to stage accidents? “Even if you died here, I wouldn’t bat an eye.” Then he took Sienna’s hand and walked away without a backward glance. By the time I was rushed to the hospital, the child in my arms had suffocated. Upon hearing the news, my mother suffered a heart attack. She didn’t survive. I slipped into a coma for two days. When I finally woke up, I found out that Vincenzo never visited. Instead, his father, Renato Moretti, the true king of the Moretti empire, stood by my bedside. I looked at him calmly and said, “Let me go. Whatever I owed your family, I’ve repaid in full with two lives.” Later, that same Don who had once looked down on me knelt before me, begging me to come home. But I was no longer the woman who waited, silent and broken, for his change of heart. I was the Don’s wife who turned away and never looked back.

My older sister Seraphina had always been the center of attention in New York's Upper East Side. Everyone worshiped her, protected her. At the Montgomery charity gala, my father asked we to choose our future husband in front of every powerful family in New York. Seraphina smiled and generously let me choose first. But this time, I said no. In my past life, I truly thought she cared about me. I followed her suggestion and married Declan Thorne, a man whose immune system had failed after a car crash. He had been confined to a wheelchair for years, and people whispered that he was worthless. I surrendered my place in the family and became his nurse, his support, the only thing keeping him from complete loneliness. But no matter how hard I tried, I could never reach his heart. Then, at Seraphina’s gender reveal party, Declan stood up from his wheelchair in front of everyone. "Brielle,I felt nothing for you. You were just a way for me to get closer to Sera." The silence lasted only a second before the room turned on me. Every whisper, every stare, every hidden laugh made me feel like the biggest fool in New York. That night, I rushed out of the party and drove away before anyone could see me break down. On the bridge, my hands shook so badly that the car spun out of control and crashed through the railing. I made ninety-nine calls before the river swallowed the car completely, and every single one went unanswered. Three days later, they found me trapped beneath the water, already suffocated in the wreckage. Then I opened my eyes, and I was back at the gala where my father had planned to announce our engagements. This time, I picked no one.

I’d been through seven foster homes. Before each one sent me away, they stopped answering my questions, stopped looking at me, and let the house grow silent. I couldn’t stand that kind of silence. So I became someone who talked too much. When my biological mother finally brought me into the powerful Moretti family at seventeen, I tried even harder to make people like me. Within one day, I knew the guards’ birthdays, the school nurse’s favorite podcast, and where my classmates kept their emergency medication. My stepsister Bianca called it manipulation. My stepbrother Luca called it an addiction to attention. To cure me, he ordered my entire school and family not to speak to me for seventy-two hours. My calls were blocked. My messages were quarantined. Even my mother promised not to answer. Then I had an accident. Bianca secretly switched the trail marker on my backpack, sending me down an abandoned path by mistake. I fell forty-five feet into a flooded smuggling tunnel, my leg shattered beneath a slab of concrete. I called everyone I knew. Ninety-nine times. No one answered. Before I closed my eyes, I sent one last voice message. “I’m sorry. I know I talk too much. But don’t worry. I won’t bother you anymore.”

I was the band's drummer and songwriter, but I was always the one the spotlight forgot. At our first music festival, I got ready to join hands with everyone for the final bow. But my boyfriend, lead singer Arthur Bennett, and my brother, guitarist Anthony Shaw, reached right past me. They each took one of Daisy Parker's hands, and with our keyboardist between them, the three bowed to the crowd. "The stage is too crowded. Just stay back and watch the gear." In the official photos from that day, only the other four looked as though they belonged in the spotlight. Next came an awards ceremony. I reached for the Best Lyricist trophy with my name on it. But my sister, Susan Shaw, snatched it and handed it to Daisy like it was the most natural thing in the world. "Daisy looks the prettiest tonight. Let her accept it for you." That night, the clips went viral, and everyone called the four of them the future of music. Then came the release of our first music video. I'd been so excited and had spent ages getting ready for it. But my boyfriend and my brother handed me a mask and told me it would make me look more mysterious. Late that night back at the hotel, I pretended to be drunk and slumped over the bar. I could hear them talking on the couch. "I don't get it. How did our family end up with such a forgettable loser?" "I wish Daisy was our real sister." After my brother and sister had their say, they both turned to my boyfriend. "We still don't know what you saw in our sister." After a long silence, I heard him laugh softly. "Daisy and I had a misunderstanding back then." They all smiled at each other and started planning a ski trip. Arthur said, "Daisy loves snow. Let's go to Aspen. I've booked four first-class seats. Irene can stay home and write songs." Out in the hall, I calmly put my earbuds in and started working on a new song. But the song I began writing that night would never carry their names. From now on, we'd go our separate ways. I'd see them at the top, and t

After my death, my parents sign an organ donor consent form on my behalf. They have my corneas removed and transplanted onto their beloved adoptive daughter, Grace Lane. She later marries my brother, and they become a true family. Grace and I competed over everything in life, yet I ended up dying with nothing. Now that I've been given a chance to start over, I decide to live life without them. Surprisingly, I find myself getting a happy ending.

Everyone at the Golden Crown Court knew I was the Dragon King's youngest, most beloved daughter. A childhood injury had left my dragon breath — the power inside me — unstable. Every seven days, I needed someone to help steady it. But my three childhood friends had stayed by my side for more than a decade: Lucas Ashford, commander of the dragon knights; Darian Stormwell, my father's personal guard; and Silas Wintermere, a dragon priest. They'd sworn before my father that they would always take care of me. Then everything changed. On her first day at court, Kassan Blackthorn, a black dragon, defeated three of our dragon knights. Lucas was impressed. He called her a true dragon warrior. He forgot his promise to practice sword fighting with me and spent the next several days following her around, eager to please. Darian said Lucas was like a sailor under a siren's spell. "He's not worth getting upset over," he told me. A few days later, Darian missed his turn to help regulate my dragon breath, too. Pain swept through me, burning hot one moment and freezing cold the next. Just before I passed out, Silas burst through my door and gathered me into his arms. Holding me tight, he said, "Evelyn, whatever happens, I'll always be here for you." But three days later, I watched him fasten around Kassan's wrist the very dragon crystal bracelet I'd wanted for myself. He gave her the same tender smile I knew so well. That was when I realized I had nothing left. So I knocked on my father's study door and told him I wanted to go north and marry Derek Frostborne, chief of the frost dragons.

The 19th time I demand a divorce from my husband, Jason Simmons, my best friend, Diana Nicholson, doesn't try to change my mind as usual. In the past, she always tried to stop me. She even personally showed up at Jason's company to ask him to reconcile with me. This time, she quietly contacts a lawyer for me, prepares a divorce agreement, and helps me with the divorce proceedings. Unable to help myself, I question her about her unusual behavior just as I'm about to sign the divorce agreement. It seems that I've touched a sore spot because she suddenly loses her temper and snaps, "Layla suffered a miscarriage because of you this time. How much longer are you going to cause a fuss?" Layla McKinley is Jason's mistress. Diana sighs as she takes in my bewildered expression, explaining, "The truth is, Layla was my junior in university. I'm the one who introduced her to Jason. I did my best to compensate you for so many years out of guilt, but I've grown exhausted. "For my sake, please stop causing a fuss," she says, placing a hand on my shoulder. "I'll make it up to you for everything they've done." My body feels unbearably cold. I feel as if I've been shoved into a pool of freezing water. It turns out that both my friendship and my marriage have been nothing but a farce the entire time. I quietly flip open the divorce agreement when Diana isn't paying attention and pen my signature on the dotted line.

Shortly before I was due to reunite with my birth family, the five of us got together for a card game. Vera Collins didn't lose once all night, yet I drank 12 shots of vodka in her place. Every time I was about to play my last card, my adoptive brother, Allen Hayes, would block me with a high card, then deliberately play a low one that Vera could beat. In the final hand of the night, I was down to my last card. Allen played a high card to take the lead from me, then followed it with a low card that Vera could beat. Vera beat it. My boyfriend, Damon Reid, was holding high cards. He smiled and said, "Pass." Leo Grant, who I'd grown up with, passed too. Vera quickly laid down her last card. She'd won again. She blushed and said softly, "Stop letting me win, you guys. Eva's going to be upset." Allen pushed the 13th shot of vodka toward me. "Vera's good at cards. So what if you lose a few hands?" Leo gathered Vera's cards for her. "You're different. When you lose, you get upset and try to hide it." Damon idly ran his thumb over my palm. "Don't worry. Eva's not that petty. She can take a loss." But they'd forgotten that tonight was supposed to be about celebrating my good news. By the end of the game, not one of them had asked what my good news was. Vera eagerly suggested we play again the following week. Leo said casually, "Eva, get there early and save our spot again." Allen added, "And get a new deck. This one's falling apart." I nodded. I didn't tell them there wouldn't be a next time. Beneath my last card lay a plane ticket to Sicily. Next Monday, I was going home to my birth parents. They'd made it clear, hand after hand, that all they cared about was helping Vera win. So this time, I was leaving the table for good.

On Christmas Eve, while her husband takes their son to watch fireworks with his first love, Justine Payne finally makes up her mind—she's getting a divorce. They've been married for five years. To everyone else, she's the lucky woman with the perfect life. She has a devoted husband and a smart, adorable son. But only she knows the truth—her husband has never let go of his first love. Even worse, the child she nearly died giving birth to can't wait to replace her with someone else. So, Justine decides to set them both free—a husband whose heart doesn't truly belong to her and a son who can't wait to replace her. She refuses to keep holding on to love that isn't returned.

Just before our mating ceremony, my fated mate, Keane Blackwood, told me out of nowhere that he had to mark his widowed sister-in-law, Elara, first. He needed a pureblood heir. And I was a half-blood werewolf. "Talise, Elara is the best choice. Don't worry. This is purely political. You're the only one I love. "It's only for a year. Wait for me." His warm palm cupped my cheek, and he looked at me with the same love I'd always seen in his eyes. I believed him. But the very next day, news broke that Elara was pregnant. Three months along. They'd been sneaking around behind my back for a long time. "Why did you hide it from me?" I ran to confront him, my eyes red and my lips trembling. "It's all for the pack." He sighed, looking tired. For the Blackwood pack, he could put off our dates, stay out all night, and put my feelings dead last. In the end, even my anger was dismissed as immature, and I was supposed to graciously hand over my own mate. Suddenly I was so tired I could barely stand. But Keane didn't seem to notice. He even asked me to give up the Luna's master suite on the top floor. I scoffed, turned, and stormed home. Then I opened my laptop and replied to the email from the Mediterranean medical project. "I accept your offer," I wrote.

After my husband, Don of the Rizzo family, died in a shootout, I took over the family and wiped out the one that killed him. To groom my daughter into the next heir, I handpicked four adopted sons to protect her. Ten years. I poured everything into them—my name, my money, my time. And every last one of them turned out exceptional and self-reliant. Over the years, with them at her side, my daughter moved forward steadily. Until the month before my daughter was about to take over my position, I got a desperate call from her. "Mom, help me... someone's got me trapped in the banquet hall. They're trying to rip my clothes off..." By the time I got there, my daughter was curled up in a corner, half her gown torn apart. And the four adopted sons I'd raised with my own hands? Standing outside the door with some girl, watching the show. All of this—because my daughter had gotten into an argument with her. When they saw me, there wasn't a shred of guilt on their faces. Just impatience. The eldest stepped in front of the girl. "Mom, she's the one who mouthed off first and pissed Isabella off. Since she never learned to respect people, I figured I'd teach her some manners for you." The third one's eyes flickered with disrespect. "Handling our little sister—that's not something you need to worry about." One look at their smug faces and I was done. Clearly, they'd forgotten who the real head of this family is.

In the third year of my relationship with Jason Lane, a woman named Yvonne Jones approaches me and slides a bank card across the table. "Here's one million to leave Jason." I stare at her in confusion. I can't understand why my boyfriend, a vocational school graduate who works as a delivery driver, is worth so much money. "Do you actually think Jason delivers food for a living?" She scoffs and pulls up a photo on her phone. In it, Jason is wearing an expensive suit I've never seen before, chatting and laughing with people while holding a golf club. "You're nothing but a toy to keep him entertained. He has bottles of wine that cost more than you make in a year, yet he only buys you gifts worth ten bucks. He tips other people thousands at a time, but when it comes to supporting you, he gives you pocket change." My eyes widen. I cover my mouth and break down sobbing. Beneath my lowered lashes, my eyes remain cold. The truth is, I've known for a long time that Jason comes from a wealthy family. At first, I waited for him to come clean on his own at first. Later, I showed vulnerability to give him a chance to come clean. But now… I touch my swollen, tear-stained eyes. All I want is to use his guilt to get as much money out of him as I can.

"Here's 1 million dollars. Take it, leave the Star Moon Pack, and go somewhere my son will never find you." My boyfriend's mother looked at me with scorn as she handed over a check. If this had happened in the past, I would have told her that I loved her son—not because he was an Alpha, not for the title of Luna, and certainly not for his family's vast fortune. I loved him because of the deep bond we shared. I was carrying his pup. We were supposed to become mates and build a happy life together. But now, he was about to hold a bonding ceremony with another woman. He was planning to mark her and let her bear his pup. He said it was all just to appease the Pack's elders and his parents. What they didn't know was that as the daughter of the Alpha of the Golden River Pack, I'd never need a bond to gain status, power, or wealth. So now that he'd chosen someone else, the only thing left for me to do was to walk away with dignity.

At my wedding, the giant screen that's supposed to show our photos suddenly switches to the groom's assistant's prenatal exam report. It clearly shows that he is the child's father. The assistant looks flustered and panicked as she rushes to apologize to me. The groom, on the other hand, stays perfectly calm and offers an explanation like it's no big deal. "I took pity on her because she got pregnant out of wedlock, so I went with her to the appointment and left my name. I'm going to be her kid's godfather, too." The day of her exam was also the day I went for my very first prenatal checkup. Everyone thinks I'll break down, but I simply reach up and tear off my veil. Then, I calmly schedule an abortion. "She really is pitiful, being pregnant without a partner by her side. She deserves this wedding more than I do." Then, I raise my champagne glass to congratulate him. "Congratulations to you both. May your shotgun wedding be a happy one, especially since it's happening with a bun in the oven."

When Adriano Morelli realized I hadn’t submitted a single household request in three days, he called me himself for the first time in months. “Serafina,” he said, his voice smooth and patient, “the clinic has been cleared. Your file is back on priority. See? When you stop making things difficult and learn how this family works, I make sure you’re taken care of.” He always sounded the gentlest when he was reminding me who held the power. What he didn’t know was that by the time his name lit up my screen, the divorce papers were already drafted. From the outside, I had everything a woman could want: a guarded penthouse, a driver on call, designer clothes, and the last name of one of the most feared men in the city. But almost none of it was mine. The cards were monitored. Cash had to be approved. Staff took Viviana Costa’s orders before they ever listened to me. Even the wardrobe budget, my schedule, and access to the family office all ran through her hands. Adriano called it convenience. Three days ago, I was rushed into a private clinic, blood soaking through my dress, while a doctor told me there was still a chance to save the baby if the emergency deposit was paid immediately. I called Adriano until my hands shook. Viviana stalled the transfer. First there was no direct authorization. Then the amount was too large. Then Adriano was in a meeting and could not be disturbed over something that might not be serious. By the time the money came through, it was too late. The baby was gone. I had stayed with Adriano for two reasons: I loved him, and I believed that when it truly mattered, he would choose me. I was wrong about both. Our child died first. My marriage died with it.

When I was six, a car crash wiped out most of my memory. My foster parents told me my parents had died that night. They said they had taken me in, given me their name, their home, and the protection of one of New York's most powerful families. So I spent twelve years proving I deserved to stay. I cleaned up my younger sister Bianca's messes, handed her the credit for my work, and locked every trophy I earned in a wooden archive box because my success made the family's real daughter uncomfortable. Then, at eighteen, I ordered a certified birth record for my student visa. The clerk looked at me and said, "Your parents have always been Vittorio and Elena Romano. There's no adoption on file." I had never been an orphan. Bianca knew. My relatives knew. The family attorney knew. Even the old butler who carried me home from the hospital knew. For twelve years, everyone had played a part in the same lie. So I hid the birth certificate and kept playing the grateful adopted daughter. I fixed Bianca's speech, prepared her heir's gala, and smiled while my family erased my name one last time. They had no idea I'd already booked a one-way flight out of their lives.

My little sister Vanessa was obsessed with werewolf lore, convinced she was destined to marry a powerful Alpha. When Rex, the Alpha of the Firwood Pack, saved her during a riot, she thought fate had finally set its gears in motion. What she didn't know was that Rex saved her simply because she resembled what his fated mate had looked like in her youth— Helena, the Luna of the Firwood Pack. Any sane woman would've walked away. Vanessa saw it as her golden ticket to the top. She secretly mapped out Helena's usual routes, hired outlaws to stage a brutal car crash, and sprinkled silver dust—lethal to wolves—across the wreckage. Her plan? Wait for the esteemed Luna to draw her last breath, then step in as the "first witness who risked her life to help," climbing over the body to claim her place. Vanessa was convinced that once Helena was gone, she'd be the next Luna. In my past life, I snatched the keys before she could move, locked her in her room, and begged her to come to her senses. Rex wasn't some lovestruck wolf from those cross-species romance novels—he was the iron-fisted Alpha who ruled the entire territory. A wolf's mate bond was carved into the soul. If he ever uncovered the truth, he wouldn't just tear her apart—he'd reduce our entire human family to ash. Vanessa nodded through her tears, swearing she'd let it go. But that night, she drove a silver blade straight through my heart. As I lay dying, she leaned in and whispered: "You ruined my chance to be Luna, Eileen. So you had to die." When I opened my eyes again, I was back in the moment she made her move.

I'm the heiress of the Corleone family, with three childhood sweethearts who used to adore me and watch over me like I was their whole world. Then Daisy Washington, the little maid, showed up—and suddenly I didn't exist anymore. But my father, the don, didn't know. So at the family victory gala, right in the middle of the toast, my father said, "Freya, tell me, who's the one? Point him out, and we'll get you engaged tonight. Right here, right now." The whole room went quiet. Every pair of eyes swung to my three so-called protectors: Nico Gibson, Arlo Mcdonald, and Rhett Owens. But they acted like they hadn't heard a thing. One was feeding Daisy from his fork. One was whispering something that made her giggle. And the third just watched her with that soft, doting look I used to get. The room went dead silent. My father's face stiffened. I quickly jumped in, "Dad, my boyfriend's overseas. I'll bring him to meet you when he's back." The three of them snorted, shooting me mocking looks. I knew they didn't believe me. They thought I was just saving face. But I actually did have a boyfriend.