Cerita Pendek Plot Twists & Novel Bias Marriage

My husband had just ducked into the bathroom when his phone started ringing. I glanced at the screen and saw it was his brother calling. A frown creased my brow, but I answered anyway. "George, why haven't you sent the $10,000 to Mom and Dad this month?" Ross Serrano said. "Mom just asked me about it." I hung up without a word, but a rush of fury surged through me. My husband stood at the bathroom door, his hands still dripping wet. I forced a bitter smile. "You make $8,000 a month, right? $3,000 goes to the mortgage, $2,000 to me, and you pocket $1,000 for yourself. You told me you sent $2,000 to your parents, so how did that magically turn into $10,000?" His lips quivered, his face draining of color. My heart sank, and my hands trembled uncontrollably. We'd been married for five years, and I'd never once laid eyes on his bank card. What other secrets was he keeping from me?

After seven years of marriage, Cecilia Summer inherited a fortune worth billions. But while handling the paperwork with her lawyer, she was told that her marriage certificate wasn’t real. She could only inherit the entire fortune in her own name. After digging further into the details, the lawyer mentioned a name she never expected to hear. “Mr. Leedon’s wife is listed as Lucy Garnett, not you. Miss Summer, you’re… unmarried.” Everyone in Summerville knew that she and Marcus Leedon had been engaged since childhood. She was his everything, his treasured possession. When they got married, Marcus gave her the wedding of the century. He made a public promise: “I, Marcus Leedon, will never betray Cecilia!” But the marriage certificate bearing Marcus Leedon’s and Lucy Garnett’s names was issued the day after the wedding.

In the fourth year of her engagement to Mason Hart, Evelyn Ward still had not been able to marry him. The Hart family had produced officers for three generations, and marriages required approval from military headquarters. Yet every year, their marriage request was rejected. Until the fourth year, when Evelyn personally saw Mason alter the application. Only then did she realize that Mason had never intended to marry her at all.

After seven years of marriage, my husband grew tired of our quiet life and took a college student as his mistress. That fragile, pitiable girl held Alain Roth so completely he didn't come home for an entire month, no matter how I begged. On our son's third birthday, I came to their villa, holding the feverish child and pleading for him to return. Inside, he stayed lost in passion with her. Jeff Roth drew his last breath in my arms while their pleasure echoed through the night. At the funeral, Alain held me and wept, swearing he would return to the family and love only me. I agreed, driven solely by Jeff's dying wish. Four years later, a video from his old kindergarten surfaced, showing Alain with a radiant Mabel Flores and a three-year-old boy. The boy smiled brightly at the camera, lifting a trophy high. "Mom, Dad, we're the happiest family in the world!"

For the sake of her secretary, who was supposedly battling cancer, my wife, Sofia Griffin, made a shocking proposal. She would pay ten million for taking his virginity as an attempt to help him raise the funds needed. I had barely opened my mouth to object when she cut me down with a sharp rebuke. She said, "Chris has always been a proud man. Just giving him the money would seem like a handout and hurt his pride. "Can't you try to be compassionate? Do you really have to be jealous over something this small?" I said nothing. I simply smiled and nodded. What she didn't know was that, as an infectious disease specialist, I had already recognized the signs. It wasn't cancer... It was late-stage AIDS.

On our wedding anniversary, I ask my husband, Luke Blackburn, to buy me some fish stew. Since I'm in my first trimester, I keep vomiting every now and then due to morning sickness. Right now, I have an intense craving for fish stew. But Luke comes home empty-handed in the middle of the night. He claims that he's completely forgotten about my request. I don't say anything at all. All I notice is a strand of long hair sticking to Luke's collar that doesn't belong to me. Some time later, I see the fish stew I never got to eat in a photo that Luke's colleague, Ruby Pollard, has uploaded to her social media feed. The caption reads, "Luke ordered this dish for me. He knows that I love fish stew from this particular restaurant the most. I'm so touched by his gesture!" In the photo, I see a pair of familiar hands picking out fish bones from the meat tenderly just for Ruby.

At a high school reunion, my wife, Hillary Sheffer, known for her great luck in gambling, ends up losing three million dollars to her first love, Shane Norris. This amount included the two million dollars that we had set aside to buy a new house as well as the life-saving money that I needed for my mom's brain surgery. I'm so furious that all I feel is iciness permeating my pores. Then, I question Hillary angrily, "Did you lose to Shane on purpose? I've never seen you lose before when you gambled during family gatherings!" But Hillary turns her head away from me righteously. "There's no such thing as full confidence in winning every game when it comes to gambling. All I can do is cough up the payment whenever I lose. "Besides, it's difficult enough for Shane to raise his own kid after getting divorced. What's wrong with me lending him a helping hand? "You're a grown-up now, Lucas. Stop being so stingy and petty." As Shane wraps an arm around Hillary's shoulders, he pushes the die toward me. Mockery can be seen plastered all over his face. "Hey, Lucas, you should be a good sport and know how to accept defeat gracefully. You already have Hillary as your wife. Meanwhile, I just want some money from her. Isn't this fair enough? "Then again, I can give you a chance. Let's go for one more round, you and me. If you win, I'll return the money to you." Everyone else begins cheering us on, eager to watch an exciting drama unfold. I don't respond to Shane at all. Instead, I pick up the die. After leaving Harkensalle, I've sworn that I will never touch anything related to gambling ever again. I never thought that I'd end up breaking that vow in less than three years.

An alarm wakes everyone up at 1:00 am. It turns out that a few college students have gone missing during their exploration in Wolffang Valley. My heart goes tense at the news. After all, my stepdaughter, Nancy Campton, had told me yesterday that she'd be exploring that place! Since Nancy has asthma, I specifically prepare medication that's meant to treat asthma in my medical kit just in case anything happens. After carrying my backpack, I begin urging my husband, Jack Campton, who's also the leader of the rescue team, to set off right away. But he keeps stopping me in my tracks. "What's the rush? Let's wait for Dakota to finish doing her makeup." Half an hour later, Dakota Sweeney, who has a face full of makeup and is wearing a pink rescue jacket, begins complaining in a high-pitched voice. "Why did you keep rushing me? Thanks to you, my eyeliner came out all crooked!" On the way to the valley, Dakota actually pulls out a pair of pink lace panties. After unscrewing the cap of a bottle of life-saving water, she starts washing it with said water. I can't endure her stupid antics anymore. "Have you gone nuts? This bottle of water could potentially save someone's life!" But Dakota replies in a matter-of-fact tone, "I'm a woman with principles! I must wash my underwear that I've changed out of on the same day!" Jack shoves me away at that moment. He then snatches the bottled water from me before passing it to Dakota. "Willow Armstrong, you're the crazy one here! Is it wrong for Dakota to take care of her hygiene?" As I stare at Jack, a cold smile slowly spreads across my face. It's not wrong for Dakota to take care of her hygiene. I just wonder if Jack is capable of facing the consequences behind Dakota's tendency to drag things out.

On my wedding day, my fiancée's adopted younger brother, Jason Sanders, suddenly stood up to toast us as we were exchanging rings. "The first toast is for my sister. She gave herself to me last night so that I wouldn't feel insecure, making me her first man." After he said that, he kissed my fiancée, ignoring the strange looks from everyone. "The second toast is for my brother-in-law. Don't be fooled by my sister's usual aloof demeanor around you; she's actually very passionate in bed. Even though you're impotent, you've still struck gold." My fiancée, Wendy Sanders, covered his mouth in a hurry and tried to laugh it off. "He’s just rambling because he's drunk. Just ignore him." But Jason broke free from Wendy and looked at me challengingly. "The third toast is for everyone. Since Wendy is getting married today, I would like to personally put the ring on her finger. I'm sure no one has any objections, right?"

On the day of our wedding, my fiance Thomas Warsh was killed in a car accident on the way there. His adopted sister rushed toward me, clutching his ashes, accusing me of being a jinx who brought him misfortune. I was drowning in grief when a line of floating comments suddenly appeared before my eyes. [You must remain a widow for three years for your deceased husband. After three years, he will be reincarnated and return to love you again!] [Don’t ever remarry. Otherwise, the male lead will never rest in peace, and you will suffer for the rest of your life!] That was when I learned that my fiancé and I were the hero and heroine of a novel. Only by following the spoilers in the comments and completing the storyline could I reunite with him. I did not remarry. Guided by the comments, I remained a widow for three years, and then another three. However, it was not until I suddenly died from a severe illness that I discovered the truth–the comments had all been written by Thomas. He had faked his death, changed his appearance, married his adopted sister, and fed me endless empty promises so I would continue to slave away for the Warsh family. When I opened my eyes again, I had returned to the day before the wedding.

After sleeping with her childhood friend for the 999th time, he was still enjoying it as much as before. The next morning, Sinead Green had kiss marks left all over her. She could feel the soreness all over her body if she moved even just a little. The scent of love was still heavy in the hotel room as Nelson's lean arms held her close. As Nelson Lane was still enjoying the warmth in his embrace, he nonchalantly said, "Wear something nice tomorrow and come home with me." Sinead looked up at Nelson, surprised…

When Ivy Yarley learned that Jason Hough had been in an accident due to speeding and lost a massive amount of blood, she rushed to the hospital without hesitation and donated a full liter of blood for him. His friends all urged her to go home and get some rest. Reluctantly, she agreed, but the moment she reached the exit, worry hung heavily in her heart, so she turned back. That was when she saw the nurse dumping all five full bags of blood that had just been drawn from her into the trash can. Before she could even process what was happening, a burst of laughter erupted from a nearby room. "Hahaha! That idiot Ivy Yarley fell for it again!"

Three years after my death, my wife’s first love was hanging onto life by a thread, and only my system could save him. To force me to show up, she cut off my father’s medical payments. My sick mother was forced to beg her out in the summer heat until she collapsed. She even threw my beloved little sister into a bonfire to be eaten up by the flames. As she waited for me to show up, apologize to her, and use the system to save her first love, my sister finally stopped hiding the truth. “He died three years ago! Three years ago, he traded his life so you would survive that car crash!”

Right before New Year’s, the sports car I had waited six months for was finally delivered. However, my wife Vanessa snatched the keys from my hand. “Ryan likes sports cars. Let him take yours for a quick spin.” I refused. I knew her godbrother, Ryan, did not even have a driver’s license. Still, she secretly gave him the keys anyway. When I saw my car again, the car hood was covered in blood. Vanessa was holding Ryan. Her face was full of distress, and her words left me stunned. “Honey, please take the blame for Ryan. No one will make things hard for you with your background.” I immediately refused, but Vanessa then pulled out her phone. “I already turned you in. Just go along with it. You’ll be fine.” I could not believe my eyes when I saw the police call history.

It was my first time going to my boyfriend’s home for the New Year. In the middle of dinner, his childhood friend suddenly slammed her spoon on the table. “Cole, how could you bring a bar girl to our New Year’s Eve dinner?” The room fell silent. Everyone thought she simply had too much to drink. But she spoke with complete confidence. “One of my friends works on the vice squad. He arrested her himself. There’s no way he got the wrong person.” She threw a police penalty notice onto the table. My name was clearly printed on it. I was stunned. Last month, the city’s vice squad had arrested dozens of people. I was the one who approved and signed those cases. I had just taken office as bureau chief.

On the night before our wedding, my fiancee, Elara Wynn, gave her first time to her first love, Drew Mercer. I left my engagement ring behind and walked away. Before I went, I posted a message on their social feed: "Hope you two get back together soon. I’m clearing the way for you." The very next second, my fiancee called. "Cassian Rowe, I just didn’t want to leave regrets in my life. Can you stop being so old-fashioned?" I answered, annoyed, that she was no longer my fiancee and had nothing to do with me. That was when she panicked.

My in-laws, who have flown back to the country for the Christmas holidays, visit my home on Christmas Eve for dinner. But Selena Collins, the housekeeper, has only prepared two plates of cold shrimp ravioli despite the fact that I've specifically reminded her about my mother-in-law, Lora Fischer's allergy to shrimps. Selena just tells me in a stoic manner, "Mrs. Peterson, I know that you country bumpkins love taking advantage of everything. So, I completely understand that your parents want to mooch off a meal from the Peterson family during the holidays. "But as Mr. Peterson's most caring housekeeper, I have the right to protect the Petersons' assets from getting leeched by outsiders. Yes, this includes a regular meal. "Then again, I have a heart of gold, you see. I won't starve the elders at all. These are leftover shrimp ravioli from last year. Your parents should hurry up and leave after polishing the ravioli off. "Mr. Peterson is very busy with his work. I can't let him deal with your impoverished parents after getting home from a stressful day at work." I'm stunned at first, but I soon realize that Selena has mistaken my in-laws for my parents. She's purposefully causing me trouble as always. I'm about to explain the truth to Selena when I see my enraged in-laws turning to leave. But Selena wastes no time in calling the bodyguards over to stop them. "I completely understand that country bumpkins like you two have poor character, but wasting food is a really bad trait. "Since the shrimp ravioli is already prepared for you, please finish them all before leaving."

The day I was released from prison was New Year's Eve. My fiancée had promised to pick me up. Instead, she was busy ringing in the New Year with the man she had always loved. By the time I found my way back home from memory, she was in the middle of a cheering crowd, wrapped in his arms. "Nancy, Samuel's getting out today. Aren't you going to pick him up?" someone asked. Nancy Wheeler let out a soft laugh, her red lips curling slightly. "Pick him up? What's more important, him or New Year's? He's been in there for years. One more day won't kill him." "Aren't you afraid he'll be angry?" Colder than the wind and snow outside were Nancy's indifferent words. "He's the one who made a mistake. What right does he have to be angry? The fact that I was still willing to be with him was already a mercy." As the words left her mouth, she lifted her gaze, only to meet mine. The smile froze on her face. The cold light from inside fell across me, and something in my heart froze with it. She said she was still willing to have me. However, I no longer wanted her.

To afford train tickets home for New Year's Eve, I searched for a part-time job and stumbled into a livestream that was practically throwing money at the chat. A young woman in a silk robe rested her chin on her hand. Behind her, a villa glowed under expensive lighting that reflected off polished marble floors. "Being kept in here is suffocating," she said in a voice that mixed boredom with sweetness. "My sponsor gives me more money than I can spend. Help me out. Take some off my hands." Cash drops flashed across the screen one after another. I tapped as fast as I could, my heart hammering. A few large ones landed in my account. I was close. One more would cover both my ticket and my boyfriend's. The streamer leaned closer to the camera. "He keeps saying my tear mole looks like his girlfriend's," she said, her mouth twisting with disgust. "So unlucky. Of all things, I had to match with some broke girl." My finger slipped. I had a tear mole under my eye in the same spot. The live chat flooded with questions. [How is the sponsor's girlfriend broke?] The streamer gave a short snort and reapplied her lipstick, as if correcting a minor flaw. "He's just messing around. He tricked her into 200,000 dollars in debt. She's so stupid she works multiple jobs to help him pay it off." A chill settled in my chest. My boyfriend also owed 200,000 dollars. She continued, her tone light, "The funniest part? He slept with me for three days. When he left, I asked if he was giving her a taste of honey." She smiled cruelly. "He said all he has to do is claim he's going to work a construction site hauling rebar. The idiot will feel guilty and deliver food all night. So he won't need to please her." Another large cash drop flashed across the screen. The total reached the exact amount I needed. My phone rang. Benjamin's name lit up the display. When I answered, his voice sounded worn down, as if it had scraped against concrete. "Via, we still don't have enough for the tickets," he said. "I hauled rebar and made a little over 40 dollars. I'm heading home now."

On New Year's Eve, I returned home. At the welcome party, my boyfriend, Grayson Caldwell, suddenly appeared, holding a bouquet of red roses and a diamond ring, dropping to one knee. "Although this proposal comes a full three years late, our love will never be late," he said. "Alexa, marry me!" Friends cheered from the sidelines, all expecting me to nod through tears and say yes. But they had forgotten that three years ago, on New Year's Eve, he had promised to propose. That night, I dressed to the nines and waited until dawn—but he never showed up. Instead, there was only a cold phone call. "Tanya is sick. I'm busy taking care of her. You'll have to wait a little longer for the proposal." And so, on New Year's Day, I left the country alone, bound by a family-arranged marriage. I had already married someone else three years ago.