Cerita Pendek & Novel Bias Melodramatic

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.

My wife of three secretly married years, Izzy Presley, threw a welcome-home dinner for her childhood friend who'd just returned to the country. A sharp-eyed coworker noticed the wedding ring on her finger and teased her about it. "Izzy, does this mean there's a wedding on the way?" Izzy didn't deny it. Instead, she traded a smile with Sebastian Wood, the friend she'd grown up with, and made her answer loud enough for the whole room to hear. "Yes. Sebastian and I are getting engaged." She handed out cash gift cards to everyone in the room as she said it, me included. Someone who'd had a little too much to drink called out. "I've watched Stevie and Izzy come and go together for three years straight. Honestly, I thought you two were the real couple." I kept my head down and tightened my grip around the stem of my glass. On my phone, the chat thread with Izzy was still open. That 200-dollar cash gift, the exact same amount she'd given every other guest in the room, burned behind my eyes. Then her voice drifted over, light as air. "My assistant Stevie is good at his job. Work is work, and feelings are feelings. Let's not confuse the two." The teasing only got louder after that. Through the whole party, everyone celebrated for her. No one knew that Izzy and I had already been married for three years. This marriage was like a deal struck in the dark, the kind that could never see daylight. Because I loved her, I'd gritted my teeth and held on for three years. But now, I was ready to let go.

When my father's business collapsed, he racked up an astronomical debt to the Andor family. And when they finally came knocking, he did what no loving parent should ever do—he collateralized me, his only daughter, handing me over to Cassian before vanishing off the face of the earth. For ten long years, I stayed by Cassian Andor's side. He treated me with a tenderness so indulgent it bordered on worship. There was nothing I asked for that he would not give; there was no whim of mine he would not entertain. Everyone in our world knew me as his princess. I grew up believing with certainty that once I came of age, he would sweep me into his arms, march me down the aisle, and make me his wife. But reality—cold, brutal, and as dazzlingly cruel as the world we lived in—had other plans. Instead of the ring I had dreamed of, Cassian gifted a breathtaking pink diamond—the very symbol of eternal devotion—to his assistant, Heidi Torres. As if that wasn't betrayal enough, he threw a lavish celebration in her honor, a veritable explosion of flowers. He knew I was deathly allergic to pollen. Yet he still left me stranded there, drowning in a sea of blossoms. Eventually, I collapsed in a violent asthma attack, gasping and clawing for air, teetering on the edge of consciousness. And Cassian? He merely tightened his hold around Heidi in his arms and cast me a cold glance. "Your allergies have been fine for ages," he said with a sneer. "Why the sudden drama today? Don't tell me you're faking it." At that moment, as I lay there humiliated and struggling to breathe, I realized there were exactly seven days left until my twentieth birthday since when I could register a marriage.

A car accident leaves me unconscious for a full three years. When I wake up, my family bursts into tears of joy. They care for me with the utmost attention. But from their behavior, I sense something is wrong. There are women's clothes in the house that don't fit me. My mother's shopping cart is filled with mysterious baby items. My father's friends send congratulatory messages about a new child, and my husband is always working overtime. When my husband once again leaves me alone under the pretext that there is something urgent at the company, I secretly follow him. Inside a warmly decorated house, my parents and husband sit around a table. A woman who looks almost exactly like me is holding a baby just a few months old, gently coaxing the child to call my husband "Daddy".

I spent seven years drafting divorce papers for other people. I never expected that the ninety-ninth agreement would be my own. That night, my husband, Carter, lost a tabletop game during a live stream with his childhood sweetheart, Chloe. The penalty was to give up the thing he treasured most. Chloe smiled at the camera, tapping his wedding ring. "Lend me your marriage for a day." The comment section blew up. Carter looked at me like he was giving orders to an assistant. "Evelyn, you know the drill. "Sign a temporary divorce agreement. I’ll cancel it with you tomorrow morning." Chloe lowered her eyes, her voice trembling. "Forget it. She won't let you. You always choose her over me anyway." I reached into my bag and touched the positive IVF result. Seven years of hormone shots. Four miscarriages. I didn't even have the energy to tell him anymore. As the camera zoomed in on my face, I pushed the papers back across the table. "Carter, this time, I’m putting down a bet, too. “I bet the thing you lose tonight isn't just me.”

At midnight, Marvin Cooper throws a confession form at my face. The sharp edge of the paper cuts the corner of my eye, and bright red blood begins to seep out. He barks, "Alyssa hit someone with her car. You have a similar build to her. Go to the police station and take the blame." His tone leaves no room for argument, as if he is casually asking me to make him a late-night snack. His first love, Alyssa Evans, hides behind him and tugs pitifully at his sleeve. "But Marvin, if Ms. Huston goes to jail, who's going to make the nourishing soup for you?" Marvin lets out a disdainful snort and looks at me with contempt. "She's just a piece of trash from an orphanage. She should be honored to take the blame for you. Without me, she wouldn't even be able to feed herself. Other than obeying me, what choice does she have?" I wipe the blood from the corner of my eye and look at the man for whom I have spent three years as an unpaid housekeeper and a living blood bank. To treat his stomach condition, I burn my hands countless times cooking for him. I become so anemic that I easily collapse because I've been donating my blood to Alyssa. Marvin is certain that I love him with all my heart, and that I can only cling to him for the rest of my life. I don't cry. I simply take off the cheap apron I'm wearing and say, "You don't need to throw me out. I'll leave on my own." Taking out my phone, I dial a number I have blocked for three years. "I've had my fun. Send a helicopter to pick me up tomorrow. It's time for me to go home and take over the family business."

Nathan Ritter is a stickler for process-driven management. For the past three years we've been married, everything I do must go through an official approval process, as if I were an employee at his company. If I want him to come home for dinner, I have to submit a request three days in advance. If I need money for living expenses, I have to submit a justification five days in advance. Only when I visit his office do I see his young secretary, Miranda Hooper, folding my application reports into paper airplanes. "Mr. Ritter, this is the 99th request from your wife asking you to spend time with her. Why haven't you approved it yet?" Nathan's expression is as cold and detached as his eyes. He says, "I'm too busy lately. Just set it aside for now." Miranda giggles, playfully pinching his pectoral muscles. She asks, "What about me, then? I want your company too. Do I have to go through the 'process' as well?" Nathan pinches her cheek with doting affection. "Really, when have you ever needed to go through a process? Don't you know that I've already offended a whole bunch of business partners just to keep you company? So, how are you going to make it up to me?" I stand frozen in place, biting my lower lip until it bleeds. So, this "approval process" is meant only for me after all. I look down at my swollen, pregnant belly, and realize that there's nothing that I can do other than to swallow this bitter pill of this wretched marriage. Then, in the middle of the night, my water breaks, soaking the sheets and the floor. I'm going into labor. In a panic, I call Nathan, begging him to take me to the hospital. However, I hear him flipping through his calendar, his tone as cold and bureaucratic as ever. "It's not your due date yet. I'm not approving any time off for this. Submit a formal request now, and when the day actually arrives, I'll set aside exactly 60 minutes to be with you." The pain in my belly feels like it's crushing me to pieces. Hot tears stream from the corners of my eyes as I struggle to hold the pain in. I'm thoroughly exhausted, and my heart has gone completely cold. This marriage, reduced to nothing more than a series of bureaucratic procedures, is finally coming to an end.

My husband secretly swapped the transplant recipient, giving the kidney that was meant for our daughter to the daughter of the woman he had always loved. Not long after, our daughter's condition worsened. The doctors tried to save her, but it was no use. She didn't make it. At the same time, the other girl's surgery was a success. My husband was so overjoyed that he handed out little gifts to the entire hospital in celebration. Rage and grief overwhelmed me, and I collapsed. When I came to, the doctors told me I had cancer. Late-stage. My time was running out. With nothing left to hold on to, I walked out of the hospital, clutching the urn that held my daughter's ashes. In the cold, empty house, I sat alone and drafted the divorce papers.

Six months ago, I was accidentally poisoned by wolfsbane. The poison is deadly, and my days are numbered. My body gradually weakens. Today, my wolf is completely gone, and I have three days left to live. On the last day before I draw my final breath, I agree to donate my kidney to my sister. Thrilled, my mate swears that he'll make it up to me someday. My sister is being swamped with insults on the college forum after she was caught plagiarizing my Belladonna thesis. But I come forward and claim that I'm the one who plagiarized it. Mom and Dad are pleased, saying I've finally become mature. At last, I've become the perfect mate and daughter in their eyes. But why are they crying after my body has turned cold and lifeless?

Everyone in New York knew my name—Bella Moreau. I was the one person Theo Romano, the city's most feared mob boss, would kill to protect. Anyone who defied me or so much as looked at me the wrong way never escaped his wrath. But when his first love, Eve Laurent, returned, he turned me into a tool to please her, showering her with all the affection that had once been mine. Eve casually claimed I'd slapped her. The very next day, an assassin came after me, leaving me with two broken ribs. Eve claimed I'd smashed the jewelry Theo had bought her. The next day, I was kidnapped, stripped naked, and humiliated. Eve accused me of pushing her down the stairs and breaking her leg. Theo threw me into the basement and left me there for three days without a single drop of water. Day after day, he watched me grow quieter. I stopped arguing with him and making a scene. He thought he'd finally broken me, sanding away every rough edge until I became the obedient, understanding wife he'd always wanted. What he didn't know was that today was the 1,826th day we'd been together. Our secret marriage agreement would expire today. At last, I was finally free.

My name and the name of my girlfriend's assistant, who was in a lower grade than us, were homophonic. His last name was Reid, whereas mine was Reed. Shawn Reid mixed up our names yet again at the joint bachelor-bachelorette party the office was throwing for Anne Nash and me. Everyone was cheering and jeering at us as the banner celebrating the end of Anne's and my singlehood was unfurled. Someone read it aloud. “Congratulations to Anne and Shawn. Wishing you eternal happiness together!” The private room was plunged into silence. Shawn spoke cautiously. “Sorry, Sean. I accidentally got it wrong again.” I said nothing and turned to look at Anne. She didn’t even bat an eyelash and instead comforted Shawn. “It’s no big deal. He won’t mind.” Then, she walked over to stand in front of Sean while she confronted me. Just like every other time, she shielded Shawn behind her, looking at me with the same warning gaze. “Sean, it’s only a banner. “Shawny didn’t do it on purpose. “After all, everyone knows today it’s about us. Don’t sweat the small stuff, alright?”

The day his first love got divorced, my husband drank himself senseless. I stayed up past midnight taking care of him, only to discover that his phone’s photo album was filled with pictures of her. The next morning, after he sobered up, he said to me, “Let’s redo our wedding.” I knew this was his way of provoking his first love into coming back. I smiled and agreed, but not before I slipped a divorce settlement agreement into the wedding contract he signed.

The moment Victor knelt to propose to me, a stream of floating comments flickered across my vision. [LMAO. The villainess actually thinks the male lead has fallen for her.] [Gotta hand it to the male lead, a truly devoted Don. He's gritting his teeth and marrying the villainess just to protect the heroine.] [I wanna fast-forward to the part where the heroine is safe and the villainess gets dumped by the male lead.] My breath caught hard. Winning Victor 's true love was the mission the system assigned me after I awakened. Ten years since we met. Seven of them I spent chasing him. All this time, I thought he had finally fallen in love with me. I looked down at the seven-carat pink diamond ring in Victor's hand, and my eyes went hot. I closed my eyes and said softly, "Victor, I won't marry you." With that, I turned and walked away. The next second, a sharp system warning blared inside my head. "Host, mission failed. You will be erased in forty-eight hours."

During the World Cup finals, I brought soup to my husband at his office as he was working overtime. When I arrived outside the screening room of his office, I heard his new assistant, Jodie Lenford, asking with a laugh, "Mr. Hayes, don't you always tell us that Mrs. Hayes watches every World Cup match with you? Why did you leave her alone at home tonight?" My husband, Tristan, was silent for a while before replying, "Every time she watches the match with me, she'll just lecture me about drinking less and going to bed early. It takes the joy out of everything." Jodie laughed again. "Let me accompany you tonight instead. I'll replace Mrs. Hayes for this duty." "You're just like her back when she was young and fiery." Tristan once told me that I would be the only one by his side during every finals match, but I watched as he gently placed the sports jersey I had carefully picked for him years ago over the shoulders of another woman. Jodie asked, "Won't Mrs. Hayes be mad if she finds out about this?" Tristan laughed. "She's learned her lesson. She won't make a huge fuss like she did before." That was when loud cheering erupted from the screen. I stood in the dark as I suddenly realized that some matches would end with me being benched before the starting whistle was even blown.

My boyfriend always said he liked independent women. So, whether it was paying for dates, hotel rooms, or even birth control, he insisted we split every expense. He always said, "I hate women who think men should pay for everything. They expect guys to buy them gifts on special occasions and even feed them while they eat. They're adults. Do they really think they're princesses? You're so much better." I told him I only agreed to split the bills because I knew he loved me. Then one day, I saw a message on his computer after he forgot to lock the screen. A female coworker had thanked him. "Thanks for treating me to dinner and even slicing the steak for me. Next time, I'll buy the movie tickets." My boyfriend replied almost instantly. "How could I let a lady pay?" I kept scrolling through their chat history. On a rainy night, he had driven across half the city just to take her home. Whenever she had a nightmare, he would stand outside her apartment building and stay on the phone with her until she fell asleep. That was when I realized the truth. He didn't love independent women. He only loved the convenience that came with an independent woman. Just then, he walked in carrying my cat. "Your cat can't be a freeloader. The expenses should be split three ways between the three of us. Since the cat can't pay, you'll cover his share too. That means you pay two-thirds, and I'll pay one-third. Transfer me 800 dollars."

As I casually opened the online forum, a trending post at the top caught my eye. [Share the wildest thing you’ve ever done.] I clicked on the second comment, which seemed to contain just one line. [Without a doubt, it was the night before my buddy’s wedding when I had his wife come over for a “quality check.”] However, the poster kept adding to the thread. [That night, the woman tricked that idiot into thinking it was a bachelorette party, but she actually spent the whole night at my place. [She said she didn’t want to sleep with just one man forever and needed one last wild night before tying the knot. [By the end of the night, her throat was nearly raw from all the screaming. [We kept going until sunrise, right there in the wedding car her husband was supposed to pick her up later that day.] [Not only that, but even after they got married, this fool kept bringing his wife over to my place for dinner. [He’d help me in the kitchen while I pinned his wife against the fridge and kissed her. [He’d be glued to the game in the living room while his wife knelt in the bathroom and took care of me. [One time, when he passed out drunk on my couch, his wife and I had our own fun on the carpet beside him. [Every time he rolled over, we’d both jump. It was the thrill of knowing we could get caught at any moment.] The image loaded, revealing the familiar interior of the wedding car. The lucky charm I had given my wife dangled from the rearview mirror. My fingers momentarily stiffened, and I nearly dropped my phone. A wave of nausea rolled in my stomach as a chill crept up my spine. Just then, a hand appeared in my field of vision, waving in front of me. “Calvin, what are you zoning out for? You’re at my place, and you’re still on your phone. Come on. Dig in while it’s hot.” Wyatt Preston, my friend, grinned at me. Yet, his eyes kept straying toward my wife, Queenie Jennings, who was sitting beside me.

I used to be a top ballet dancer. The year I was diagnosed with a spinal hemangioma, my boyfriend Julian Blackwood said, "Wherever you go, I go." We'd been together three years. He walked beside me as I went, step by step, from the most luminous dancer on that stage to a woman in a wheelchair. Every time the nerve pain hit and I collapsed, he was the one who lifted me off the floor. Every round of electrostim and acupuncture, he sat in the corridor outside the therapy room and waited for me to come out. Before I got sick, he promised me—the night I finished my final performance of Swan Lake, we'd sign the marriage license. He'd bought tickets for that show three months in advance. I never stood on that stage again. And the marriage license never came up. Until the morning I noticed the collar of his white dress shirt carried a smudge of lipstick that wasn't mine. I heard him on the balcony. A woman's voice on the other end. "Mr. Blackwood, you left your jacket at the hotel last night. I'll bring it over." I stared at that smear of red, and something in me snapped. I laughed. "Send me to Westbrook. The locked-down rehab facility. I don't want to drag you down anymore." Something flickered in his eyes—a brief, animal panic. Then he nodded. He thought I meant rest. He didn't know I'd already signed the papers to donate my body to science. I was going there to die.

On our tenth wedding anniversary, my wife, Sienna Green, tricks our son, Noah Lewis, and me into entering a cryogenic pod. She plans to freeze us alive. As I slowly lose consciousness, I hear Sienna say to her assistant, Edwin Hoffman, "Fred's wife is dead. I've already promised him that I'll be his wife for ten years and bear him three sons. "Set up the program to ensure that Cameron and Noah only wake up after ten years. When the time comes, I'll return to them, and we can resume our life as a family." Ten years have passed. Noah is gone. When I wake up in the pod, I look at Sienna and call out to her, "Mommy."

On the day of our graduation photo, the class started sorting everyone into groups. I'd barely taken my place beside my boyfriend, Evan Brooks, when someone started shouting. "Put Claire next to Evan!" "Right? Claire's the prettiest girl on campus. She belongs beside the campus heartthrob!" Before I could react, my childhood friend Liam took my arm and gently traded our positions. "Nina, switch with Claire. "It's only a graduation photo. Don't be petty." Evan smiled and didn't refuse. He only stepped half a step aside, opening a space for Claire. I froze where I stood and touched the barrette in my hair without thinking. It was the first gift he'd ever given me. I'd stood in front of the mirror for ages getting it right, because I wanted one proper photograph with him. Right before the shutter, Evan called to me. "Nina." My heart lurched. The next second, he reached up and took the barrette out of my hair. "Claire's hair is a mess. Let her borrow this." The teasing started up again. Claire lowered her head and smiled. Evan didn't explain. The photographer called out. "All right—happy graduation!" When everyone shouted it together, I was standing at the very edge. At that moment, I finally understood that I had never belonged there. Since I had no place in your graduation photograph, you would have no place in my future.

My entire family could hear my thoughts. In my previous life, I was switched at birth with Victoria Harrington. I was reunited with my family 18 years later. It was the early 1920s, when owning a bicycle or a radio was still rare for most families. I had always dreamed of having one of those precious things. However, after I came home, Victoria would constantly brag right in front of me. "Mom told me that I'm the only one who deserves this fancy watch," she said with a sweet smile. "And look at this gorgeous bicycle Dad got me for my birthday! Oh, and when I mentioned wanting a radio, Daniel bought it for me immediately." Then came the real knife twist. "I know you're their biological daughter, Bernice, but let's be honest. When it comes to love, I'm their real daughter. Daniel definitely prefers me as his little sister too." Her words ate at me. I could not stop the bitter thoughts that flooded my mind about my parents and brother. The problem was that my family could hear every single one of those thoughts. Slowly, they began to resent me. Eventually, they threw me out into the cold, and I died alone in the winter streets while Victoria lived happily within the warmth of their love. When I opened my eyes again, I realized that I had been reborn. As I watched Victoria putting on her usual show, my thoughts took a delicious turn. 'Victoria thinks that Mom is such a cheapskate for only buying her a cheap watch instead of something expensive. She even calls Dad stingy behind his back because he didn't get her a pricier bicycle.' 'And she constantly complains about how ugly and crude Daniel is, saying that he embarrasses her. I wonder if I should share these thoughts with my family?'