Cerita Pendek & Novel Bias Marriage

Everyone said I was a fool, and not because I wasn't successful. I was one of the best attorneys in the country. No, they called me a fool because I spoiled my stay-at-home husband, Jonathan Shayman, rotten. He never had to cook. He never had to pick up our daughter. He never had to attend parent-teacher conferences. On top of that, I gave him five grand per month as his allowance. My daughter would always look at me with a blank expression and ask solemnly, "Mom, besides being handsome, what does Dad even bring to the table? Did someone put a spell on you?" I always told her she didn't appreciate her father or understand how hard it was to be a stay-at-home husband. After all, Jonathan had willingly left a prestigious law firm to become a full-time homemaker for my sake 10 years ago. He had even driven hundreds of miles on freezing winter nights to deliver gifts to my clients. He loved me enough to give up everything, so I believed I should do the same for him. However, Jonathan broke his promise on our daughter's birthday yet again. So, I took her to an amusement park by myself. When I got near the carousel, I saw Jonathan supporting one of my clients, Sandra Wood. He carefully draped his jacket over her shoulders and helped her onto the carousel. "Sandy, you're a lot better than the witch waiting for me at home. Besides, she gives me five grand every month without me having to lift a finger. I stay out all night partying, and she still thinks I'm out there maintaining client relationships for her." Sandra leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. "Then, squeeze even more money out of her for me. We'll have an even better time together." My daughter's eyes were already red with tears. I stared at the two of them. For the first time since forever, I had nothing to say against the naysayers. A cold breeze swept past me, and I felt chilled to the bone.

I was lounging at home, scrolling through social media, when a livestream title suddenly caught my eye—"The Other Woman Crash Course." Curious, I entered to see a woman talking animatedly, "My sugar daddy gives me 200,000 every month. I just need to keep him satisfied!" Viewers were doubtful and asked, "I don't believe you. Tell us how you two met." She smiled. "That's alright. You don't get to meet someone like that every day. I met him after doing a bone marrow transplant with his girlfriend three years ago. That's how I met this golden bachelor." I frowned. I had a bone marrow transplant three years ago too. Suddenly, the door opened, and she covered her phone in panic. A man's deep voice came through the microphone, "Baby? What're you doing? You're acting weird." My fingers froze the moment I heard that voice. He sounded so much like my fiance, Leo Harvey. I called him. The very next second, the custom ringtone I had set for Leo's phone rang clearly through the livestream.

The day my wife, Megan Carrick, is due to give birth, her ex-husband, Ian Reynolds, calls again. This time, his excuse is an alcohol allergy. To take care of him, she ignores her labor pains and wraps a thick rope tightly around her pregnant belly to delay the delivery. By the time I arrive at the hospital, the doctor tells me our baby has suffocated to death. I light a cigarette and ask Megan for a divorce. That night, despite having just lost our baby, she drops to her knees outside our door and kneels in the pouring rain for an entire day and night. She begs for my forgiveness and swears she'll never contact Ian again. I believe her and stay. For three years, I endure a sexless marriage, just to accommodate her postpartum depression. It isn't until my birthday this year that she willingly climbs into my bed. But right at the peak of our intimacy, the custom ringtone reserved just for Ian rings out in the room. "Aiden's sick, Megan. His fever won't come down. What do I do?" Megan looks at me, torn and hesitant to speak. I look at the untouched birthday cake and the disheveled clothes, and suddenly, everything feels pointless. "If you walk out that door tonight, our marriage ends here."

Adrian and I grew up together. We were the match every old vampire family swore was meant to be. Then he saved a human girl who had wandered into our territory while hunters were closing in. After that, he became someone else. Cold. Distant. A stranger to me. Then he knelt before the Elders and asked them to dissolve our engagement. "The one I love is Clara. I can't marry Elena." The Council was furious. They forced Clara back into the human world and warned her never to set foot in vampire territory again. To keep her safe, Adrian married me anyway, and never saw her again. After the wedding, I gave him everything I had. I miscarried again and again. I nearly died bringing his heir into the world, his heart never turned to me. Three years later, hunters came for us. I fought tooth and nail to save him, yet I still failed. As he died, he held my hand, his voice barely there. "If there's a next life, I hope I never meet you." "All I ever wanted was to let everything go and be with Clara." He died first. My own wounds took me soon after. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day of the family council. Adrian was kneeling before the Elders, begging them to let him be with the human girl. Everyone expected me to fall apart. But this time, I only slid the engagement ring off my finger and set it down in front of him. "Adrian. You can have her."

I spent three years winning the heart of Audrey Levingston, a woman everyone thought was untouchable. I gave up my entire career just to marry her and willingly became a stay-at-home husband. When she told me she was afraid of childbirth, I underwent a vasectomy the very next day. Everyone who knew us believed we would grow old together and love each other for the rest of our lives. But on our fifth wedding anniversary, I decided to file for divorce. My best friend and divorce attorney, Evan Chauncey, asked me again and again, “Are you sure? Back then, you turned down an offer from Vogue without hesitation just to marry her, and now, you’re telling me you want a divorce?” I swallowed the ache in my chest and replied, “Just draft the divorce agreement. The sooner, the better.” “Why?” he asked, clearly bewildered. My gaze fell on the exquisitely wrapped bouquet of black roses sitting on the dining table. After a long silence, I finally gave him my answer. “Because of a single bouquet.”

I'm born different, with two hearts inside my body. This is the only thing about me that makes my parents happy, because my brother, Tristan Foster, has congenital heart disease. They bring me into this world only so he can keep living. Then I meet Cindy Green and marry her. She pulls me out of the desperate need to chase my family's love. I think she's going to be different from my parents. But when Tristan's condition flares up, she becomes obsessed with wanting me to donate one of my hearts to him. What she doesn't know is that I only have one heart left. The other one is already beating inside her.

I was born with a rare medical anomaly: I have two beating hearts. Growing up, that was the only reason my parents ever cared about me—because my older sister Naomi Blake had a congenital heart disease. They only brought me into this world to serve as a spare parts catalog to keep her alive. Then I met Noah Sullivan, and we got married. He was the one who pulled me out of the dark abyss of desperately begging for my family’s love.

I have once spent three whole years winning over the untouchable Keith Reed. I have also paid the price by sacrificing my whole career just so I can become the envied Mrs. Reed of my own will. But on our fifth wedding anniversary, I have decided to file for divorce. My best friend, Hailey Walker, is my lawyer. She repeatedly asks me, "Are you sure? You turned down an offer from a world-renowned fashion magazine just to get married to him, but now, you're telling me you want to file for divorce?" Suppressing the bitterness in my heart, I say, "Please help me draft a divorce agreement. The sooner it's done, the better." She sounds bewildered. "But why?" Looking at the extravagant bouquet of black datura on the dining table, I give my final answer. "It all began with a bouquet."

My wife's lover accuses my daughter of dirtying his suit and calls her an ill-mannered brat. That very night, right in front of me, my wife chops off my daughter's hands as an apology to him. Consumed with rage, I grab that man's hair and slam his head against the wall until he's bleeding. Everyone thinks my wife, Celine Lynch, will have me arrested. Instead, she uses our daughter's life to force me into getting a divorce and leaving with nothing. "You useless trash, you can't even raise your own child right. Get out. Henry Judd and I had better not see you again," she says. After that, I take my daughter's ashes and leave for a faraway place. I vanish from their world and build up everything from scratch. Three years later, after establishing my own company, I meet Henry again at an industry summit. He stands there, wearing an expensive suit. With a wine glass in hand, he looks down at me and says, "Well, if it isn't Justin Yarrow, the poor loser who got kicked out? What, have you come here to freeload?" I laugh coldly. Then I grab him and slam him onto the table edge. My voice is icy as I say, "Looks like you forgot what it felt like to have your head split open. No matter. I'll remind you once more."

At 8:00 am, I sit in the hotel suite dressed in a custom haute couture wedding gown. At the moment, I'm waiting for Everett Green, the man I've dated for five years, to arrive with the bridal car fleet. A photograph suddenly pops up on my phone screen. Everett's childhood sweetheart, Della Coyle, is dressed in a pristine white tulle dress. She sits in the passenger seat of the Rolls-Royce that serves as the lead bridal car. The thing is, that seat is supposed to be mine. Her caption reads, "He says that I have to be the first person he sees on the most important day of his life." Suppressing the violent trembling in my hands, I dial Everett's number. His background noise is full of Della's giggles. In a matter-of-fact tone, Everett says, "Della has dreamed of riding in a Rolls-Royce ever since she was a kid. She felt upset today, so I made a quick detour to Soumoton to pick her up first." "Soumoton and my place are in opposite directions. You gave her the seat in the lead bridal car, so what am I supposed to mean to you?" I demand. "Could you stop being so petty? She's just my little sister, so what's the big deal if she sits in the passenger seat?" Everett impatiently clicks his tongue. "Tell the guests that the fleet will be an hour late. It's our big day, so don't ruin the mood over nothing. " The call abruptly ends. I stare at my reflection in the mirror, at the woman who has spent three hours getting her makeup done. Every ounce of devotion I've poured into this five-year relationship feels like nothing but a pathetic joke. After taking off my wedding gown, I call the hotel manager, Clifton Payne, and give him a final order. "Cancel the two-million-dollar wedding scheduled for today."

My boyfriend, Zack Henderson, has a notebook that he specially uses to record my mistakes. He writes down every time I'm late for our dates, even if it's only by a minute. He also makes a note whenever the breakfast I buy for him gets cold. Once I make a total of ten mistakes, he punishes me by blocking my number for a week. Terrified of upsetting him, I do everything I can to keep him happy. I assume that Zack acts this way out of habit because he's a strict science student. However, I realize I'm wrong when I find a diary under his bed while helping him move into his dorm room. The diary is filled with photos of the prettiest girl on campus, Quinn Lombardt. "Her clumsiness is adorable." Zack writes when Quinn damages his limited-edition figurine. "I'm willing to travel as far as I need to to satisfy her cravings." He writes when she asks him to buy a viral cake in the middle of the night. On the last page is a hand-drawn wedding dress design. "I'm going to give Quinn the grandest wedding ceremony once she graduates." I place the diary back in its original spot. Then I make a call to secure my spot to further my studies abroad.

The year my son, Charlie Pattison, turned seven, my husband, Jim Pattison, stopped hiding it. He brought a poor mother and her son into our world without a shred of shame. Word got around fast, and no shortage of people came sniffing for gossip, eager to watch me fall apart. I swallowed my pride and said nothing. Then that woman's son slapped Charlie at school. That was the last straw. I told Charlie to hit him back. That night, Jim—who hadn't set foot in our house in a month—showed up out of nowhere. Charlie burst into tears of joy and threw his arms open to run to him. What he got in return was a slap across the face.

Six years into our long-distance relationship, I've finally saved enough to buy a house. I want to surprise my girlfriend, Madeleine Petty, so I secretly travel to the city she's living in, planning to propose. When the receptionist hears that I'm looking for Madeleine, she beams and hands me a box of wedding favors. "You're here to drop off a gift, aren't you? Our CEO, Ms. Petty, is getting married today, so these favors are for you." I'm just about to explain that the Madeleine Petty I'm looking for is just a low-level employee when a familiar figure steps out of the elevator—Madeleine's college roommate, Tara Diaz. Seeing her dressed in a bridesmaid's gown, I ask her in earnest, "Who's getting married today? Why didn't anyone tell me?" Just then, Tara's phone rings, and my childhood best friend's voice crackles through the speaker. "Why aren't you here yet?" Sid Beale huffs. "Madeleine and Richard's wedding is about to start! The bridesmaid can't be late!"

On the day I was supposed to officially introduce Sean Olson to my family, he showed up two hours late. The food on the table had already gone cold, and the look in my mom's eyes shifted from playful teasing to deep worry. Just as I was pulling out my phone to call him, a TikTok notification popped up on my screen. It was a video posted by Madison Grant, a student in his dance company. In the clip, Sean was dancing a passionate duet with her. He held her tightly by the waist as they spun together, and as the spin ended, he leaned in so close that his lips almost brushed her forehead, his eyes full of lingering affection. The caption read: [Thanks to my coach for choreographing this routine for me. We're like soulmates on the dance floor!] I locked my phone and told my family he had an emergency. After that, the entire dinner tasted completely bland. Late that night, Sean finally came home covered in the smell of sweat. He cautiously wrapped his arms around me from behind, murmuring sleepily, “Babe, I'm so sorry. The new girl’s basics are just too weak, so I had to stay late to give her extra training. “The Latin dance competition is next month, and she's the dancer I'm coaching. I can't afford to ruin my reputation. “Once the competition is over, I'll bring a nice bottle of wine over to apologize to your mom, okay?” I didn't say a single word. Because from now on, whoever he chooses to dance with has absolutely nothing to do with me anymore.

When the hurricane shattered the floor-to-ceiling windows, our five-year-old daughter and the nanny's dog were both swept toward the broken edge, only moments away from plunging to their deaths. There was only one rescue cushion left. The nanny, Wade Jenkins, grabbed my wife Sophie Lynch's hand first, tears streaming down his face. "Sophie, Dobie is my emotional support dog. Without him... I won't survive." Seeing the hesitation in her eyes, I dropped to my knees. "Sophie, please... Save Anna first! She has asthma. She won't last much longer..." For a brief moment, Sophie stood frozen. Then, with chilling indifference, she pried my fingers from her arm. "We can always have another child, but Wade can't live without Dobie. I'm saving the dog first." What she did not know was that there would never be another child. The moment she chose the nanny's dog over our daughter, I chose to walk away from our marriage forever.

Two weeks before the wedding, I took my parents to dinner at my fiance Derek Matthews's family home in Larkhaven, Franklin. The evening was supposed to be the last planning meeting between both sets of parents, where we would finalize the ceremony and the honor-table seating. I hadn't expected Derek's childhood friend, Paige Bennett, to be there too. Mrs. Matthews suggested a little dinner-table game. Everyone would draw a numbered envelope. Whoever drew the highest number could ask one small favor of whoever drew the lowest. I drew the lowest number. Derek drew the highest. Everyone urged him to make his request. Paige smiled as though she were only joking. "Derek, let me choose for you. "At the wedding, my parents should sit at the honor table." I thought Derek would at least say that a game was a game and wedding arrangements were not prizes to be claimed. Instead, he merely frowned at me. "It's only two seats. "Paige's parents have always been close to our family. "I won the draw, and the rules say you owe me one request. "Don't embarrass everyone over this." I set down my fork, picked up my phone, and posted a message in our family-and-friends group chat. "There has been a change to the wedding seating. My parents will no longer be at the honor table." Derek visibly relaxed. Paige smiled at me through shining eyes. "Thank you, Hannah. I knew you would be generous." I didn't look at her. I simply continued typing. "Because my parents will not be attending this wedding. "Neither will I."

I spend over four million dollars on a fully automated smart home for my fiance, Stefan Shaw, and me to live in once we're married. But on the very first day I move in, he remotely locks every door and window and turns on the gas. The sound of someone pounding on the door jolts me awake. I fight my way out with everything I have. After I'm rushed to the hospital, the doctors tell me that a few more minutes would have left me in a vegetative state. While I'm still in the ICU, Stefan calls—not to check on me, but to complain. "Couldn't you have held out a little longer? Who said you could run out? "Josie's running a medical experiment. She wants to see how long a person can last in a carbon monoxide-filled environment." He pauses, displeasure creeping into his voice. "We were going to light a fire and see what happened. Now that you've run out, it's all been for nothing." After I'm discharged, I return home to find the smart lock no longer recognizes me. Right on cue, Stefan calls to warn me. "Josie needs a place to run her experiments. Your house is big enough, so let her use it for now. Go rent a place of your own and stay out of her way. "It's all for the advancement of medicine. Look at the bigger picture and stop being so petty." I say nothing. As soon as I hang up, I go straight to a real estate agency and list the house for a quick sale. The moment the money hits my account, I text my longtime rival, Seth Lane—a man I haven't seen in ages. "Got a house? If you do, let's get married."

The day after our wedding, Justin Hudson and I are finally about to leave for our honeymoon. A trip that's supposed to be just for the two of us. But as we're about to board our flight, his mother, Karen Cruz, shows up beside him with a suitcase and a warm smile. "I'm not here to get in your way," she says. "I'm just tagging along." I freeze. Justin simply takes my hand and tries to reassure me. "My mom raised me all by herself. It wasn't easy. If she wants to come, let her. Don't start acting selfish the minute we're married." The entire trip, the two of them sit together, reminiscing about relatives I've never met and sharing stories I've never heard. Karen even jokes that the neighbor's daughter used to insist she'd only ever marry Justin. Justin laughs as he peels an orange for her. "Mom, don't start." He never even looks at me. When we arrive at the hotel, the front desk informs me that the honeymoon suite I booked has been changed to a family room. Karen immediately takes my hand. "Zoe, I was just trying to save you two some money. We're family. Why pay for two rooms?" That night, she complains that the air conditioning is too cold, the shower is too loud, and my perfume gives her a headache. By the end of the night, she's called Justin over to sit beside her bed. He stays there until dawn. Only then does he finally turn to me. "My mom's getting older. Just let her have this." I stare out at the pale gray ocean. And in that moment, I finally understand. This honeymoon gives the two of them exactly what they want. As for me, I'm nothing more than the extra bride in their story.

My husband, Brody Singer, is the deputy director of a hospital and is known for being level-headed. He is so levelheaded that on the very day I miscarry, he still chooses to take Isabelle Wood, his late rescuer's widow, to look at cemetery plots first. He says, "She's been dreaming about David a lot lately, and it's making her uneasy. You have nurses over there. I'll be right back." Lying in my hospital bed, I open the location he sends me. It's an upscale cemetery with a double burial plot. The permanent maintenance fee costs 18,000 dollars. I text him back, "Nice choice. The grave is located in a bustling commercial district." He doesn't reply, but the comments floating before my eyes start answering for him. "Don't be so sarcastic. He just thinks his rescuer died too young and feels sorry that his widow has to spend the rest of her life alone." "He only married Roxanne out of convenience. Isabelle is his true soulmate and the one he secretly loves with all his heart." "Later, he'll make Roxanne sign papers to sell their home, saying the money is for Isabelle's retirement. The reason he gives is that they are still young and can easily earn money again." As the nurse hooks me up to an IV, I feel a chill on the back of my hand. I think of my wedding ring. Back then, Brody told me doctors shouldn't wear anything too expensive because it gets in the way during surgery. So my ring costs a mere 2,900 dollars. Today, he swipes his card and pays 18,000 dollars without hesitation when Isabelle says she wants to buy burial plots. I tuck the IV tubing closer beneath my sleeve and send my lawyer a message. "Draft a divorce agreement for me. Also, look into my husband's hotel records and spending history." After sending it, I quickly follow up with another text. "Move fast. He's in a hurry to repay his debt of gratitude, and he's burning through money pretty quickly."

I hid my identity as a princess of the royal court and lived a quiet life with my fated mate, Kael Voss. The day I found out I was carrying his pup, he dropped a bombshell. "I'm actually the Alpha of the Thunderpeak pack. "In a week, I'm taking Freya Edris as my mate. She's the daughter of the Frostmoon pack's Alpha." I froze. He went on. "I'll set you up with an estate and a lifetime crystal ore stipend. It'll be more than enough for you and the pup." "So?" My throat tightened. "You want me to be your mistress? You want our pup growing up nameless, shunned by every wolf in the kingdom?" Kael looked away. "You're just a packless Rogue. Only Freya is worthy of standing beside me. She's the one who can help me grow the Thunderpeak pack. "As long as you behave, I can give you and the pup everything. Everything except the title of Luna." My eyes stung. So that was all I meant to him. Our pup, our mate bond, none of it was worth a thing. I lifted my gaze and looked him dead in the eye. "What if I told you I have a greater right to stand beside you than Freya ever will? "I wouldn't just help you grow the Thunderpeak pack. I could make it the most powerful pack in the entire kingdom."