Cerita Pendek & Novel Bias Marriage

With Valentine’s Day approaching, my husband, Edwin Welles, finally freed up his schedule and agreed to spend the holiday with me. I joked that he must be the busiest man in the world. After all, the acting chairman had no time for the actual chairman. However, as soon as we entered the cinema, his phone rang. With just a single glance at the screen, a trace of panic appeared on his normally composed face. “Honey, a serious problem has come up with the tech project. I have to go back and deal with it.” I watched him walk out through the ticket checkpoint. The surrounding noise of the crowd made my chest feel tight. All of the company’s tech projects utilized my father’s patents. He was the dean of the top research institute and the company’s chairman, yet he had not received any news of a problem. What could Edwin, a research novice, possibly need to go back to handle? I opened the phone tracker app and followed him. I would just have to see for myself what this “serious problem” really was!

In my last life, right after I found out I was pregnant, a fire broke out in the mansion where I lived. My husband, Don Austin Marchetti, took most of the Family up into the mountains that night to search for his missing childhood friend instead. My calls for help went straight to voicemail. All I could do was watch the fire spread and swallow the entire house. He wept regretfully over what was left of me. After I died, he still went on to marry her. On their wedding day, guilt finally caught up with him, and he took his own life. His last words were that if he ever got the chance to live again, he'd choose me without hesitation. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day of the fire. And I found him leading everyone up into the mountains to search for her before the flames had even started. This time, I wasn't waiting around for him to save me. I was saving myself.

On my first day at a new hospital, I treated a pregnant woman in critical condition. With the nurses’ help, we stabilized her condition and safely delivered her baby. As soon as she could speak, she reached for her phone. Her voice was filled with pride as she said, “Honey, I gave birth to a son!” The voice that came through the speaker made me freeze. “Baby, you’re amazing!” Those few words were enough to send me spiraling into despair. I had known that voice for ten years. It belonged to my husband, Liam Stretton.

As a dive engineer, I need to go down into the shaft to retrieve a drill bit in order to speed up construction on the 800-million-dollar construction project before Independence Day. Little do I know that I've barely made my way down the shaft when I realize I don't have enough oxygen to last the journey. Amid my panic, I completely lose my sense of direction. So, I dig out my wireless radio in an attempt to communicate with my fiancee, Viola Jenkins. But all I hear is her laughter over the radio. "Aren't you all high and mighty, Elden? I'd like to see how long you can last underwater without oxygen!" Her first love, Ron Carey, adds, "Just sit back and watch the show, Viola! He'll definitely beg you to open the manhole cover for him when the time comes!" That's when I realize Viola and Ron have allied together to kill me. Not only have they closed the manhole cover, but they've also cut off my life-saving oxygen supply. After ensuring that the manhole cover cannot be moved at all, I begin crying for help weakly into the radio. "Hurry… Open the cover for me… I'm running out of oxygen…" Viola's contemptuous voice drifts from the radio. "It's only been five minutes. Why are you playing the pity card already? This is Ron's first time in a construction site, so he's inhaling some oxygen from the canister because he's already lacking in oxygen. You can wait for a while. "If you have the time to moan about the lack of oxygen, you might as well use it to retrieve the drill bit. Stop dilly-dallying around, Elden! You seriously think I'll keep you around if you don't pull your weight around here?" With gnashed teeth, I cover 65 feet downward in the shaft. With the last bit of oxygen in my lungs, I place my hands on the drill bit that's stuck in the deepest part of the shaft that can determine whether or not the 800-million-dollar construction project will be a hit or miss. I'd like to see if Viola and Ron will be able to reap the benefits from this project just by killing me off in the shaft!

Three days before my wedding, I find out that my fiancee, Ivy Carlton, has changed the wedding venue from my grandfather's home—that's located up in the south—to Jonah Jennings, her childhood friend's favorite castle in Staravia. When I'm about to confront her, I overhear her complaining to her friend, "Thank goodness Jon's a man with taste! Otherwise, everyone's going to make fun of me for the rest of my life!" Her friend asks, "Didn't you agree that you'd hold the wedding ceremony in Theo's grandpa's house? Aren't you worried that he might not marry you out of fury when he finds out?" Ivy chortles in response. "The Sterlings are on the verge of bankruptcy. Marrying me is Theo's only ticket out of poverty. He can't risk losing me at all. "I've already arranged for the wedding planner to call him and inform him about the change. He's most likely rushing to change his flight." Rage and resentment swell in my heart. I clench my fists tightly, but in the end, I turn on my heel and leave. Three days later, the wedding is held in the castle, just as Ivy has planned. I never changed my flight, nor did I show up at the castle. Instead, I choose to exchange rings with another woman in my grandpa's courtyard. Till now, Ivy still doesn't understand that I want to marry her because we've been dating for ten long years, not because I view her as a ticket out of poverty. But now that I've woken up from my dream woven of fantasies, it's time for me to make choice.

My girlfriend, Kiara Sommer, gets one of her legs crippled in order to save me. Her adopted younger brother, Cain Fullton, suffers from heart failure after shielding us from harm. Since then, his heart becomes extremely weak, and he has to rely on the expensive imported medication just to survive. In order to gather enough money for their surgical bills, I take on a body-casting job in the black market. Not only are my limbs encased in scalding hot silicon, but I also have to endure it whenever a few female perverts cop a feel of me. I can't even move an inch when I'm doing my job. After all, I'll have to compensate for the damages if I ruin the mold. I can only grit my teeth and endure the agony, only to get slapped a few times in the face afterward. "You already have the guts to take on a job like this, and yet you're frightened of getting groped?" As I withstand the humiliation and the burning pain, I return to the hospital with the money in hopes of buying more medicine for Cain. When I walk past a VIP lounge, I hear familiar laughter erupting from within. "Kia, this is the 998th test, right? Once Shane passes 999 tests, are you really going to marry him?" Kiara frowns slightly at the question, though she soon replies coolly, "Yeah. The tests stem from my family's rules, and you're ordered to serve as the supervisor. But still, don't go overboard, yeah? Shane is the only one meant to be my husband." So, Kiara lies to me and torments me to this point just so she can marry me? As I stare at my broken and bruised reflection in the mirror, I feel my lips curling into a smile all of a sudden. With trembling hands, I dig out the old phone that I haven't used for the past two years. My eyes slowly redden as well. Then, I draft a text message. "I regret everything now, Winona. Please take me home."

On the morning of our pre-wedding health exam, a health alert popped up on my smartwatch. It was synced to my fiancé, John William. [2:17 AM. Elevated Heart Rate. Location: Clara Gabriel's Apartment.] Beneath it was an activity log. [Vigorous Exercise. 42 minutes.] My fingers went numb. John had insisted on sharing our health data so I would know if he was working too late or suffering a migraine. I never realized that data would track his pulse spiking in another woman’s bed. Looking back, the signs were everywhere. The night Clara had a fever, his heart rate surged until 3:00 AM. The night Clara had insomnia, his heart rate stayed steady in her apartment until dawn. On Clara’s birthday, his watch logged an all-nighter with three distinct heart rate peaks. Whenever I asked, John would just laugh it off. "You're getting jealous over algorithm updates now? You need a hobby." Clara would give a guiltless smile. "He’s just worried about me living alone." I didn't realize worry was meant to be so hands-on. At the clinic, Dr. Gates handed me the registry forms. "Fill in the groom's information so we can set up the joint file." I looked at the blank space next to Spouse and smiled. "Never mind." His heart wasn't mine to monitor anymore.

During the long National Day holidays, I planned a Golden Highlands trip for the whole family. I even booked tickets for a luxurious train ride so we could enjoy the scenery. But on departure day, my husband and son vanished. I called my husband. I could hear an airport boarding announcement in the background. My voice trembled. "Where are you?" He panicked and mumbled that the company had an emergency before hanging up. I tried calling again, but the line was busy. The next day, he posted an update on his social media. In the photo, he stood beneath the snowy peaks of Wintercrown with one arm around his old love while the other held our son. The caption read: [If we had been a little braver back then...] A friend commented: [Where is your wife?] I stared at his reply: [She's sick and resting at home.] Three expired train tickets sat on the table as my eyes welled up with tears. A decade of marriage. A pack of lies. It was time to bring it all to a close.

Jasmine Pepper and I had been married seven years, and because we were poor, my son and I spent our nights secretly collecting bottles to recycle. My son was quick at it, and good, always looking up at me with a hopeful little face when we finished a round. "Dad, do we have enough saved up to take Mom to the amusement park?" Jasmine was frugal and quiet by nature, and she often turned down our son's requests, always claiming there wasn't enough money. But that day, I counted a whole bag of change and could hardly believe it. I grabbed my son's hand and took him to buy tickets for the amusement park. The moment I looked up, though, I froze. There was Jasmine, one hand laced with another man's, the other cradling his son, riding the carousel like she didn't have a care in the world. My son and I stood rooted to the spot. The ticket seller gave us an apologetic look. "I'm sorry, sir, but that lady's booked out the whole park for the day. You'll have to come back another time."

Out of sheer boredom, I randomly clicked into a livestream titled "Taming an Innocent Housewife." In the stream, a woman in a silk chemise was lazily puttering around the kitchen. When the camera finally showed her face, I was completely stunned—it was me. Not only that, but on the public chat, the top donor was spamming gifts like crazy. [Make her drink that spiked milk.] Soon after, a man groveled in response: [Thanks for the gift, bro. She'll drink it right now. I promise you a hell of a show tonight.] I'd recognize that voice anywhere—it was my husband, Jake, who was supposedly on a business trip overseas. My own husband had turned our home into a hidden-camera setup, treating me like his personal reality show star. And now, he was trying to feed me illegal drugs just to rake in donations. Most people would've broken down or called the cops. But I'm what you'd call the ultimate pro at playing nice—everyone in our circle knows I'm the queen of manipulation. I picked up that glass of milk, looked straight into the camera, and gave a fragile, tantalizing smile. "Since my husband's not home, drinking this milk all alone feels so lonely... I wish some strong, capable guy would come take care of me." The chat exploded. Donations went through the roof. Later that night, Jake burst through the front door, ready to "discipline" me—but froze in his tracks. There I was, sitting in lingerie on the lap of the top donor, grinning at my husband. "Honey, you're back! I helped you hit your goals tonight!"

Jessica Morrison had been divorced from her ex-husband, Mark Tatum, for five years, yet they still shared a joint bank account. She made over six figures a year, but every time her salary hit her account, she transferred every last cent to him. "Even though we're divorced, we still have a child together. I can't just turn my back on him." For years, she used that as her excuse. She went to take care of her and Mark's son while her own water had already broken. Because of that, our daughter, Emma, was born with health issues. Later, when Emma had a medical emergency and needed surgery, Jessica gave all the money to Mark's son instead. That time, I asked for a divorce. But she begged me through her tears. "They're both my children. You have to understand—I'm a mother. I promise it will never happen again." For the sake of our young daughter, I gave in. But this time, Emma got sick with a high fever and was diagnosed with acute leukemia. When I went to pay the bill at the hospital, I was told the card had been declined. The bank account that should have had hundreds of thousands of dollars was completely empty. That's when I found out Jessica had transferred all the money again. Our daughter was delirious from the fever, holding my hand. "Daddy, does Mommy not want me anymore?" I comforted her as best I could, but deep down, I knew—maybe it was time to find my daughter a new mother.

To help my husband, Ryan Whitaker, compete for the director position, I spend an entire month securing the sale of a luxury apartment worth tens of millions of dollars. On the day the contract is signed, Ryan hands the primary contract to Lucinda Brooks, a new employee who has just joined the company. When I demand an explanation, his eyes flicker with guilt. Still, he argues, "Lucinda studied abroad. She is more academically accomplished than you, and her Iridian is better. The client happens to have a foreign business partner, so it'll be smoother if she takes the lead on the signing." As he speaks, he wraps an arm around my shoulders, expecting me to compromise like I always do. But this time, I don't smile but continue to pull a long face. That very afternoon, I submit my resignation letter and hand over every core client under my management. Ryan is furious as he tears up the resignation letter and mocks me. "When I married you, I didn't even care that you only graduated from high school. Why are you picking a fight with a newcomer now?" I laugh. It's true that I don't have an impressive educational background, but he's forgotten one most crucial thing. I didn't earn my title as the company's sales champion through academic credentials.

During a critical heart transplant, my doctor husband insisted his intern assist despite her garish nail art compromising the sterile field. When I called her out, he abandoned the patient mid-surgery to comfort her. I begged him to return, but he snapped, "Giselle is upset. Can't you wait? This is nothing compared to her feelings." 40 minutes later, the patient bled out and died. Later, they discovered that he was our highly respected mayor and placed the blame on me. "If it weren't for you causing a scene and kicking us out of the operating room, the mayor wouldn't have bled to death. This is all your fault!" Defenseless, I was sentenced to life in prison, tortured, and died in agony. My husband and his intern walked down the aisle, enjoying their happy life. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day of that fateful surgery.

My fiance did not come home the night his childhood sweetheart returned to the country. His voice was as gentle as ever when he called. "Honey, she saved my life. Now she's terminally ill, it's only natural for me to take care of her." I told myself he should indeed repay her for saving his life. He continued, "Once I've repaid her, I'll cut ties with her." He looked so determined and loving that I believed him, time after time. But when a chandelier fell at his birthday banquet, the person he protected was that woman. He did not notice my shoulder was already soaked with blood. The day before our wedding ceremony, he locked me in the basement. "If you're still going to act like this, you need some time to think about what you've done. You can come out before the wedding!" Through the doorway, I saw their fingers locked. In that moment, every feeling I had for him disappeared. I did not cry or make a scene. I called my mother instead. "Mom, I think it's time I listened to you and came home."

On our wedding anniversary, I wanted to drive out and buy a cake to celebrate. But the moment I got into the car, I noticed the driver's seat had been pushed forward. There were also a few bread crumbs scattered inside. I called my husband. "Has anyone been driving my car lately?" His voice carried unmistakable guilt. "My cousin borrowed it yesterday for the whole day. Why?" His cousin was six-foot-three—twice my size. More importantly, he was severely allergic to wheat and avoided pastries like the plague. I let out a soft laugh, hung up, and drove straight to the bakery my husband had been frequenting lately. Inside, a sweet-looking girl was chatting and giggling with her coworker. "So what if I'm short? I have to move the seat all the way forward when I drive, but at least someone spoils me!" The moment she saw me, her carefree smile vanished, replaced by panic. I crossed my arms and tilted my head as I looked at her. Lucas had always told me I was too tall—not quite his preferred type. Looks like he'd finally found himself a petite little lover.

My mom is 71 years old. Thanks to her arthritis acting up, she's in so much pain that she can't descend the stairs at all. She tentatively calls me and asks if she can rent an apartment that comes with an elevator of its own. But my wife, Lucy Glaser, brings out the household ledger and points at the red numbers on the pages. "Last month, you bought yourself a tie, which is 300 dollars beyond our monthly budget. Yet now you're planning on adding another impulsive expense?" Only then do I realize that I don't even have the freedom to buy myself a tie despite earning an annual salary of tens of millions of dollars. My mom is still trying to explain herself in a humble tone over the phone. "Oh, please don't feel troubled about it, Caleb. I was just asking on a whim. I've already grown used to my old home anyway…" After I end the call, I feel rather stuffy in my chest. What's there for me to feel troubled about? After all, I'm a partner of a top-tier law firm who earns tens of millions of dollars every year. The one who keeps standing in my way is Lucy, who's only a mid-level lawyer yet insists on controlling my finances. She also calls herself the best candidate for the household asset allocation.

Gabriel Black and I had grown up together as childhood sweethearts, and when we reached adulthood, our families arranged our engagement. From the day the engagement was announced, I started counting down the days. However, Gabriel thought the whole thing was unfair. “Other people get to fall in love a few times in their lives. Why should I be stuck with just you my whole life? You should date a few people, too. Don’t shortchange yourself.” And he meant it. In the year after our engagement, Gabriel went through seven girlfriends. Every time he changed partners, I would simply smile and say it didn’t matter. After all, I thought he would always come back to me. That was until the eighth girlfriend came along. He brought her to the Black family’s annual banquet. She clung to his arm and called him Gabe. I quietly set down my utensils. Right there in front of both families, I took out the engagement agreement and slid it to the center of the table. “Gabriel,” I said calmly, “you were right. Staying loyal to just one person really is a loss.” Later, I stood before him again, this time with my hand linked with the only son of the Graham family. Gabriel smashed his glass on the spot. For the first time, his eyes turned red. “Erin, what do you mean by this?” I smiled and said, “Didn’t you tell me to try dating, too? Well, I did, and it suits me just fine.”

To celebrate my mom's birthday, I fly back from abroad. At the same time, I plan to meet my fiancé, Kylo Winston, whom I have never met before, to discuss calling off the engagement. Unexpectedly, the custom cake I ordered for the special occasion gets knocked over. Kylo's childhood sweetheart, Nora Cullen, even falsely accuses me of dirtying her limited-edition designer bag. She screeches, "Who do you think you are? How dare you get engaged to Kylo? I'm his real wife! As long as you kneel and beg for mercy and say you're a worthless good-for-nothing, I'll let you off. Otherwise, I'll let you have a taste of what the Winston family of Silverlake is capable of!" I look at the ruined cake in my hands and smile frostily. What perfect timing. I'm planning to break off my engagement with Kylo anyway. So, I dial his mother's number and say, "I just heard the Winston family has two future daughters-in-law. Is that true?"

At eight months pregnant, Esther Rivera went to the mall to buy a duffle bag and stock up on supplies she would need when she went into labor. She was once again mistaken for a mistress and was assaulted by Summer Moreno. To protect the baby in her belly, she could not fight back at all. Summer grabbed her hair and slapped her several times, even nearly tearing off her clothes. At her wit’s end, Esther called the police. Both of them were taken to the police station. Each of them claimed to be Jasper Clarke’s wife The police officer, John Hayward, called Jasper to verify the truth. When Jasper learned about this, he went to the police station. Summer swiftly took out a mirror to touch up her makeup before looking at Esther smugly and saying, “Esther, do you think Jasper will say I’m his wife just to protect me? “I bet he will.”

Over three years, I called the police on Julian Prescott 188 times to force him to marry me. When he left me burning with fever to see his first love, I reported him missing. When that same woman summoned him to fix her plumbing in the middle of the night, I tipped off the vice squad. After the last trip to the police station, I asked whether he'd finally had enough of me. He was silent for a long time before answering. "I promised my father I'd take care of you. I'm going to keep that promise." Then came the day we climbed a snowy mountain together. An avalanche trapped us, and Julian shielded me with his body. A boulder crushed half of him. Feverish and close to death, I looked at him, half-dead after everything I'd put him through, and suddenly laughed. "You must hate me, Julian. I got you killed, and I tore you away from Sophie." He met my eyes, his voice calm. "Do you want the truth? I've been sick of you for years." My heart lurched. Before I could even react, he cut his wrist and pressed it to my lips, forcing me to swallow enough blood to keep me conscious. "But I'm not letting you die. Willa, I don't owe you anything anymore. In our next life, please let me go." Only after my rescue did I learn that he'd dragged his broken body through the snow, leaving a plea for help written in his own blood. I sank into severe depression. Lost in a haze, I eventually died in a car accident. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day I would have made my 189th desperate attempt to force a wedding. Julian, this time, you'll get what you asked for.