Cerita Pendek Melodramatic & Novel Bias Marriage

On our first wedding anniversary, my husband's childhood friend, Sophia York, is busy policing what I eat. "This one's too spicy. You can't have it." "This one won't do. It's far too greasy." "This one is deep-fried, too. You can't eat it." She smacks my fork away before taking my glass of orange juice away from me too. Once she's done, all that's left in front of me is a bowl of plain pasta. There are 12 dishes on the table, but plain pasta is the only thing I'm allowed to eat. Looking at me sympathetically, my husband, Ivan Jefferson, picks up a piece of beef that's been rinsed with water and places it on my plate. "Listen to Sophia, okay? She's a nutritionist. Once you recover from gastritis, you'll be able to eat whatever you want." I've been eating like this for three whole years, and my gastritis still hasn't gotten any better. Later, I become pregnant. As I struggle with morning sickness, I suddenly crave blueberries. Ivan rushes out to buy some, only to return with Sophia in tow. She slips into one of our indoor slippers as if she belongs here and immediately starts to clear out my refrigerator. "You've always had a sensitive stomach, Lily. Now that you're pregnant, it's even more important for you to watch what you eat," she says. "Let me take care of you for the next couple of months." Ivan feeds me a blueberry and gently coaxes, "I feel uneasy about leaving you home alone while you're pregnant, Lily. Sophia's a professional." Sophia pulls out her credentials and shows them to me. I stare at the name of the shady association and suddenly burst out laughing. Is this what he calls a professional? All that's left in my refrigerator are vegetables and some beef. As I stare at the nearly empty refrigerator, I suddenly feel tired of living this way. Once my morning sickness eases, I'll move somewhere else and start a new life.

It took Daisy ten years to transform from a humble street vendor into a star investor in the corporate world. I stood by her side for every single one of those ten years. During our darkest year, I threw away every last drop of my self-respect and begged my estranged mother just for twenty dollars to buy us a decent meal. Looking back into Daisy’s heartbroken, tear-filled eyes, I gave her a soft smile and asked just one thing: "On the day the company finally goes public on Nasdaq, will you bring me with you?" She held me close and promised she would. Years later, when her company’s empire was soaring at its absolute peak, I gently brought up my old request once more. She didn't even bother lifting her eyes from her desk. "I’m way too busy right now. We'll talk about it later." So, I never brought it up again. Until one evening, I accidentally stumbled across a viral short video of her company’s grand public listing online. Daisy, who had told me she was merely away on a routine business trip, was standing right there on the Nasdaq trading floor. However, the man standing proudly beside her wasn't me but my younger half-brother, Jason. Holding hands, Daisy and Jason struck the ceremonial bell together, ringing in her billion-dollar empire. As fireworks exploded across the digital screen, she pulled Jason into a gentle, tender embrace. "Thank you for being here to witness the most important moment of my life," her voice echoed through the video. "I’m so happy." Jason wrapped his arms around her waist, whispering back, "Me too." I turned off my phone screen and let out a faint, quiet laugh. Then, I went about my day as usual, buying groceries and cooking dinner. After finishing my meal, I sent Daisy a short, simple text message. [Got twenty bucks to spare?] She didn't bother asking me why. She simply transferred twenty thousand dollars straight into my bank account without a second thought. I kept twenty dollars, and immediately wired back the remaining nineteen thousand nine hundred and eighty. I sent her a final two-word reply. [Too much.] Then, I wired that twenty dollars straight to my mother, officially settling a decade-long debt. Ten years ago, for twenty dollars, I discarded my pride and dignity for Daisy's future. Now, with that same twenty dollars, she brought our relationship to an end. There was never any room for me in her grand Nasdaq victory, and the quiet life I built from here on out will never have any room for her.

The day after our wedding, Deanna Somerhalder secured her seatbelt and offhandedly told the car’s GPS, “Let’s go home.” The screen lit up, and the GPS said, “Now navigating to Harvey Bishop’s home.” My back stiffened. From the corner of my eye, I saw Harvey look up from the backseat. Deanna started driving. She sounded unbothered as she said, “The GPS is just using the most frequently used saved location. It’s just numbers. Anyway, this way we can drop Harvey home first.” Harvey said calmly from the backseat, “Don’t overthink this, Andrew. The GPS might just be used to this route because Deanna frequently picks me up.” I did not respond. Instead, I reached out to check the GPS history. The saved locations included Deanna’s workplace, her yoga studio, her parents’ house, and Harvey’s place. It did not have our new apartment address. We had picked every single thing in the apartment, built the wardrobe together, and painted every wall. Every corner of the apartment held memories. But it seemed that the home we built together was not worthy of a place in her car’s GPS. As for Harvey, he seemed to be the destination she truly wanted.

The day the university released the family placement positions for doctoral graduates, I went straight to the Human Resources Office to register. But the staff member barely looked up before rolling their eyes. "Mr. Slater, everyone at this university knows you cheated on your wife and are about to leave the marriage with nothing. How do you still have the nerve to ask about the placement position?" I thought there had been some kind of misunderstanding. I rushed home, hoping to explain everything to my wife, only for my mother to slap me across the face. "I don't have a shameless son like you. Get out of Natalie's house!" I was driven back to the rural school where I had spent the past three years teaching. But by then, the entire village was filled with rumors about me, and even the children avoided me. The day I received the divorce papers my wife had mailed me, I returned home. But before I could enter, I overheard her talking to her friends through the half-open door. "Natalie, you spread those rumors and forced your husband into divorcing you just so Mr. Talbot could get that placement position. Aren't you worried your husband won't remarry you afterward?" She let out a dismissive laugh. "Not even my mother-in-law has a problem with it. No one but me would marry a penniless man like him! Ian needs this job more than he does. In a week, once everything's settled, I'll forgive him for 'cheating' and take him back. He'll be so grateful that he'll probably thank me for the rest of his life." My grip tightened around the divorce agreement until my knuckles turned white. If that was how it was going to be, then I would give her the divorce. But once I signed those papers, she could forget about ever remarrying me.

For four years of marriage, Cillian Newberry's catchphrase had always been "wait." Traveling could wait until he wrapped up his work. Celebrating our wedding anniversary could wait until his meeting was over. Visiting my parents back in my hometown could wait until he had the time. Today was my birthday. I made sure to ask him two weeks in advance if he would be home for dinner. After he promised me he would be there, I spent the entire afternoon preparing his favorite dishes and waited for him to come home. However, I waited from six o'clock until nine, but he never showed. Then, an entertainment news broadcast caught my attention. [The CEO of Newberry Corporation was spotted picking up his childhood sweetheart after work! Could this be a case of old flames rekindling their romance?] I subconsciously looked up upon hearing the reporting. The broadcast showed a man holding an umbrella while tightly embracing a woman dressed in light clothing. It was only a few steps from the building entrance to his car, yet he tilted the umbrella toward the woman the entire way, letting the rain soak his own shoulder. Then, I received a text from him. [Something came up. I'll be back in a bit.] I thought I was used to waiting. I thought I was content with waiting quietly at the table for him to come home, as I always had. When I looked at him in his rain-soaked suit on the television, I realized I was done waiting.

My wife, Sienna Fairchild, has one ironclad rule. Every Monday, she has dinner with her brother-in-law. During that time, she turns off her phone and blocks every message. Nothing, no matter how urgent, takes priority over their little family gathering. Then one day, our daughter falls down the stairs at preschool and breaks her arm. I call Sienna over a dozen times, but not a single one goes through. With no other option, I call her brother-in-law instead. "Abby got hurt at school. Can you have Sienna come to the hospital?" The other end goes quiet. Just when I think the call has been dropped, Sienna's voice comes through. "My whole day belongs to them. Don't bother me unless it's actually important." The line goes dead. I stand frozen, staring at my daughter crying on the hospital bed. She looks up at me with red, tear-filled eyes. "Daddy, does Mommy not want me anymore?" I choke back the lump in my throat as exhaustion washes over me. Maybe it's time to find my daughter a new mother.

By the sixth year of our marriage, I found another man's contact information on my wife's phone. She hadn't shown him to me willingly. While she was taking a shower, a message from an unfamiliar number came through with an intimate photo. A shirtless man had his arms around her while posing for the camera with a peace sign. I picked up the phone and opened the conversation. The chat history had been wiped clean. The entire conversation contained only that one photo, and the contact was saved under a single letter. [M] She hadn't saved his full name or anything else, but it was obvious she had cheated on me.

I loved Cassidy more than anything. Although she had been involved with countless men, and she had even cheated on me with Henry, the fake heir, I still couldn't bring myself to let her go. I worked out, took medication, and did everything I could because I wanted to have a child with her. When the doctor finally told me today that I met the required fertility criteria, I grabbed the test results and rushed straight to her office. "Cassidy, I–" My voice came to an abrupt halt. Cassidy was passionately kissing her new male secretary with her arms wrapped around him. She glanced at me impatiently. "Get out!" I suddenly came to my senses. I could accept having a wife like her, but could our future child accept having a mother like her?

I had returned from a five-year assignment. Walking out of the airport, my heart was filled with hope that Cyra Stern would accept my proposal. However, she just stood there expressionlessly. “Neil Spencer, I’m sorry.” Before I could even register my surprise, she spoke again. “That transfer order… was my doing. “I purposely had you transferred to that remote project in the Northwest just to create space for Devin Lawrence and me. “Back then, I was pregnant with his child. I had no other choice.” A long silence followed as I bit my lip until it bled. That was five years of living hell in the Fopi Desert. They were filled with swirling sandstorms, unbearable heat, and sixteen-hour workdays. It turned out that it was all a cage she had meticulously designed. “You’re so domineering and high-handed. I was afraid you’d hurt us. “I’m not confessing this to seek your forgiveness. I just want you to calm down before things get out of hand and you make a scene.” Her tone was filled with resentment. I took a step back as I dodged her outstretched hand. My smile was tinged with tears. “Cyra, you’ve turned something that could’ve ended in a dignified manner into something that can’t.”

When Wendy Chance's father, Josiah, was rendered speechless, I was the only one he wanted to go to speech therapy with. Every time Wendy and I wanted to go out, Josiah would clutch the corner of my shirt. Once again, Wendy would stuff an unused train ticket in my hand and pat my shoulder apologetically. "Treat my dad well, and I'll make it up to you on another trip. Evan can accompany me on this business trip instead. Don’t overthink this." Evan Striker was the secretary she claimed knew his place. I had collected 27 unused tickets over the past three years. They were from unrealized trips to the mountains, historical towns, and the beach. Every ticket turned into a post on Evan's social media accounts. I thought Wendy was just busy with work until one day, I overheard Josiah speaking clearly in the study as I brought him some water. "Did Evan have fun this time?" Wendy laughed. "You're a pretty good actor, Dad. Joel doesn't suspect a thing." Through the crack of the door, I could see Wendy and my best friend, Eli Conway, sitting at the table. Eli was holding up his phone to remind everyone about something. "Joel is supposed to accompany Wendy to the celebration party tomorrow. Remember to follow the plan and be sick tomorrow, Mr. Chance. That should stop him from attending the party and embarrassing Wendy." Everyone laughed, agreeing with the plan, and Josiah even started practising vague hand gestures. I lowered my head to look at the latest ticket in my hand. I had been duped, doing my best to make these schemers’ web of lies come to life. The ticket fell from my hand, and I no longer wanted to wait for Wendy to finally keep her promises.

My wife, Lily Tanner, is a mortician. She's trying to avoid getting fired during her pregnancy, so she keeps locking herself in the morgue. I may be her husband and colleague, but even I am not allowed inside. I don't want her to work too hard, so in the middle of the night, I sneak into the morgue to do her checks for her. However, she reacts by going berserk and sounding the alarm. Ever since then, I've been very careful around her, fearing that it may affect her pregnancy. Later on, with Lily repeatedly receiving praise from the deceased's family, our department decides to hold a commendation ceremony for her. The whole family seems relieved. However, as soon as Lily receives her award, I ask her for a divorce. The room instantly falls silent. Tearing off the medal on her chest, she complains in a wounded tone, "I'm working myself to the bone even when I'm pregnant, and I'm doing all this to give our child a better life. You're worried that I'll outperform you and overtake you as the top mortician in the industry, aren't you?" I look away from her, a cold smile forming on my lips. "Spend the rest of your life with those bodies, then. I don't want the child anymore, and I'm definitely divorcing you."

In a feverish haze, I heard the doorbell ring. The delivery guy called out, "Delivery for Mr. Hendrick." I smiled as I took it from the delivery guy and thanked him. I was going to laugh at James for being childish. After all, before falling asleep, I had only mentioned that I had a fever. Yet he had already ordered medicine for me. However, when I opened the delivery bag and saw what was inside, my expression froze. Condoms and lubricant were right there in plain sight, and even the toy in my hand made my head spin. Just as I took out my phone, ready to demand an explanation from my husband, a text message suddenly popped up. "This is Sangland Resortworld. Dear Mr. Hendrick, we are delighted to confirm your reservation…"

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

On the night before my wedding, the bridal party is too excited to sleep, so someone suggests a game of anonymous confessions. Everyone writes down one thing they want to say to me, the groom-to-be. I eagerly close my eyes, expecting heartfelt wishes and congratulations, but the first note stuns me. "You bastard. If you weren't forcing my sister to marry you, Lyle would be my brother-in-law!" Lyle Thomas is my best friend. Just three hours earlier, he called to apologize, saying a last-minute business trip had come up and he couldn't make it to the wedding. My hands tremble as I continue reading. "That watch she gave you as a wedding present is one Lyle turned down. He said it looked cheap, so she dumped it on you instead. The day your dad died, she was screwing Lyle in the apartment you shared. In fact, Lyle isn't missing your wedding because of work. He's too busy taking care of their baby." The moment I reach the final note, I recognize Alyssa James' handwriting. "You've already ruined this life for me, and I've come to terms with it. But if there's a next one, stay away from me." The sheer absurdity leaves me stunned at first. Once the shock fades, all I feel is bitter irony. I crumple the notes and toss them into the trash, along with the watch on my wrist. Then, I look up at Alyssa. "Since that's how you feel, let's turn tomorrow's wedding into a party for your new baby instead."

After a car accident leaves my girlfriend, Selene Voss, with temporary amnesia, she wakes up convinced that my best friend, Evander Thorne, is her fiance. Afraid that telling her the truth might worsen her condition, I agree to switch places with him. The arrangement is simple. We only pretend. Nothing more. Once Selene gets her memory back, everything goes back to normal. But six months have passed, and she shows no sign of remembering anything. Then one day, I stumble across a post online from someone in our city. "I lost my memory after a car accident and mistook another guy for my boyfriend. Now I've actually fallen in love with him. How do I explain this to my real boyfriend?" The top comment offers a simple solution. "Just keep pretending you have amnesia. You can't lose. If things work out with the new guy, great. If you regret it later, just say your memory finally came back." The author has liked the comment. I look up just as Selene and Evander walk through the door. She trails behind him with several shopping bags in her hands, and when she looks at him, the love in her eyes is impossible to miss. So, that's how it is. Somewhere along the way, Selene stops pretending. For her, this relationship has already become real.

On my wife Christine Stott's birthday, I held a property certificate, hoping to surprise her. I waited until midnight, but she never showed up. Instead, I got a confession. Christine: [I'm pregnant, but the baby isn't yours. I'm sorry...] I stared at those words, reading them over and over. I worked hard for three years to buy this property. I worked overtime until I was vomiting blood, I drank myself into the hospital at business dinners, and I came home every night so exhausted that I would collapse straight into bed. And her? She wiped away all my efforts just by saying the baby was not mine. I called her. She answered quickly. "I'm sorry for what I did to you. I'll give you whatever you want." I took a deep breath and asked, "Anything I want?" "Yes." "Then let's get a divorce. You leave with nothing."

In our third year of marriage, my wife's kept boy toy decided he wanted to break up with her. He left her nothing but a long, dramatic message and blocked her on every platform before she could respond. [You can't give me what I actually want. I don't want to keep dragging this out with you.] I watched my wife's romantic drama play out with a cold, distant expression. After three years of them breaking up and getting back together more times than I could count, I figured this was nothing new. I expected Elena Sheridan to rush straight to coax him back like always. But this time, she was ice cold about it. "He was just a plaything I kept around for amusement. Now he thinks he can threaten me with a breakup? I’ve clearly indulged him too much." But a month later, the news broke online. He'd jumped from a building. The woman who had always been cold and unfeeling completely fell apart.

My husband Marcus Ashford has severe social anxiety. In three years of marriage, he refused to meet a single one of my friends or family. Even our wedding was just the two of us, because he said a crowd would trigger a panic attack. Because it hurt me to see him like that, I put up with my parents' disappointment and my friends' confusion, made every excuse for him, and guarded his fragile little world with both hands. That changed tonight, when I stumbled onto the social media page of his first love, newly returned from overseas. In the photos, Marcus moved through the room with Chloe, working the toasts with total ease, laughing wide and unguarded. I opened the next live photo, and a snatch of conversation came out of it. "Marcus, isn't today your father-in-law's birthday too? You're not going to swing by?" Marcus answered as though it were nothing, "Going would just be pointless socializing. A waste of time. I'd rather stay here with Chloe." I went through those few photos over and over, more times than I could count, until my eyes were dry and stinging, and then I shut off the screen without a word. Then I called a lawyer and had the divorce papers drawn up. So his world was full of voices and noise after all. It simply refused to open for me, and for me alone. Fine. If the party wasn't mine, I wasn't going to keep forcing my way in.

On Sunday night, I had already changed into a dress and was about to take a wedding anniversary cake to my husband at the hospital. I had just picked up my car keys when several lines of text suddenly floated into view. [Don't go.] [The moment you step into Avermont Medical Center, tonight's surgery - the one where Elise Parker's patient dies - will be recorded with you as the primary surgeon.] [Grant Holloway will use your EHR e-signature credentials, alter the surgical schedule, and add false entries to the chart so you take the fall for her.] [Three days later, the patient's family will livestream outside the hospital demanding answers, and the internet will brand you a heartless doctor.] [In the end, the patient's brother will attack you with a knife.] I froze in the entryway. A second later, Grant called. "Jessica, are you at the hospital yet? Swing by Medical Affairs when you get here. I need you to sign off on something."

To avoid being the topic of gossip, I could only use disposable items every time I went to my girlfriend, Erica Livingston's, house. She made me use disposable slippers in her house, and disposable utensils when we had our meals. Even when I stayed the night, she prepared disposable sheets for me. "If someone saw any of your things at my house, I wouldn't know how to explain it," she would tell me every time. "I'll get you everything you deserve once we go public." I waited three years for that to happen, and I had to enter her house every time as if I was a guest. This continued until one day, when she held a birthday party for her assistant, Ryan Strobe, at her house. When I opened the door, I saw Ryan taking out their matching house slippers from the shoe cabinet in her house. Erica's best friends arrived next and wore all of the other disposable house slippers available at her house. I was left standing by myself at the door. "You can come in barefoot. It's not cold in the summer," Erica said to me without looking up. It felt like she was calling out to a stranger to enter her house. I stared at the table, full of food, from afar, with utensils printed with Ryan's favorite anime character. In the far corner was a pair of cheap, disposable utensils that belonged to me, and I suddenly felt like everything I had with her was disposable as well. It was time that this love that was buried deep in secret should also be disposable to me, and I should throw it away now that I was done with it.