Melodramatic Short Stories & Bias Regret Novels

While we're applying to colleges, everyone gathers around my younger twin brother, Kevin Winslow, and launches into a discussion. Our older sister, Natasha Winslow, points at a brochure. "Of course, you're going to Whetford University. Come to my school, and I'll look out for you." Our childhood friend, Claire Linwood, shoves an Ellerby College brochure at him. "Don't listen to Natasha. Let's go to Ellerby together and be classmates for four more years." Our parents smile in agreement. "Yes, you should go to the capital. We can sleep better at night knowing someone's looking out for you." A long while later, they finally remember that I'm about to go to college as well. "Kyle, with your bad grades, you can just apply to any college in Valefront." Natasha doesn't even look up when she replies, "That's right. All four of us will be in the same city, so we can meet up on weekends." Claire nags out of habit, "Applications won't stay open forever. Make sure you don't get left behind." I slowly tighten my grip on the mouse. The computer screen is still displaying my application draft. In the make-believe sessions in our childhood, Kevin has always played the prince everyone adored. Natasha has been the loyal holy maiden, while Claire has been the brave princess. But I can only ever be the evil dragon everyone hates. Turns out, even now when we're grown up, things haven't changed. Since no one likes me anyway, I decide to apply to a college that's furthest away from home. From now on, I have a whole life ahead of me, so I won't dwell on the past anymore.

On the day I'm found to be a compatible donor for my mom, who's suffering from late-stage leukemia, I run away from home. Dad keeps looking everywhere for me. But in the end, he has to watch Mom die in despair. Later on, Dad focuses on his research in leukemia, which brings him huge success. On top of that, he even adopts an understanding and capable young man as his own son. When we eventually meet again, it's at a research meeting about leukemia that's hosted by Dad. As he stares at my body on the table, he can't help but chuckle icily. "Julian Rivers, this isn't a place where you can screw around. Get up and get lost right now!" The host just stares at Dad, completely stunned. "You know the identity of this corpse, Dr. Rivers?" Dad flashes him a mocking smile. "How much did Julian pay you just to go along with the act, huh?" The poor host doesn't know what to do. "But Dr. Rivers, Mr. Julian Rivers already died three days ago…"

My alpha mate Damien had no idea that I'd been secretly in love with him for seven years. The day his first love Sofia ran away from their mating ceremony, I put on the wedding dress and took Luna's place without hesitation. Despite everyone's dissuasion, I insisted on mating to the devastated man. After mating, he was incredibly caring and thoughtful, remembering every anniversary. I thought he'd finally fallen in love with me. Until the day his first love returned, all my illusions were shattered. When the rogue wolves attacked, he left me behind without hesitation to save Sofia: "She's not as strong as you. She needs me." This time, I didn't stop him. I simply severed our mate bond and leave our Pack. But why was this Alpha, who deeply loved Sofia, frantically searching the world for me?

The marriage between Wendy Walker and Felix Foster had been the talk of Harbour City’s high society for years. Wendy was the rebellious, unapologetically outspoken heiress of the Walker family, a stunning beauty with a bold, commanding presence. Felix, on the other hand, was the cold, disciplined head of the Foster family, a powerful billionaire known for his strict principles and almost monk-like restraint. They were complete opposites. Yet they'd been married for three years. In their first year of marriage, Wendy was expected to memorize and obey all three thousand rules of the Foster family.

At my engagement party, my fiancee's male best friend pulled my pants down in front of over 500 guests. I desperately grabbed my belt and demanded to know what the hell he thought he was doing. He thought I was making a fuss over nothing. "I just wanted to see what color underwear you're wearing." As he spoke, he held up the Besties Chat Group, which included my fiancee, Justine Severin. A poll was underway. "What color underwear will Henry Banks be wearing today?" There were eight people in the group, and seven had voted. Justine only replied, "Cut it out." I froze, then turned in disbelief toward my impeccably dressed fiancee standing behind me. Justine frowned. "Everyone was just messing around to liven things up. Don't take it seriously." She turned back and continued chatting and laughing with the other guests as if nothing had happened. At that moment, I suddenly realized just how rotten the woman standing before me was. I took off my engagement ring and dropped it into a champagne glass. "Let's call off the engagement."

After the four others in my group forgot my birthday three years running, they finally promised to join me for a stand-up show this year. On the day, I arrived early with five pricey tickets I’d bought. All I needed was to wait and pass them out: one for my fiancé, one for my best friend, one for my childhood friend, one for my adopted sister. I was holding the last ticket for myself when a hand stretched toward it. I spotted a strange werewolf behind my adopted sister Marian. “This is Leah, a classmate. She just split with her boyfriend and wants the show to cheer up,” My childhood friend Noah said cheerfully. “We’ve got extra tickets. Della won’t mind, she hates seeing Leah hurt.” My best friend Lisa linked arms with me. “I got your favorite chestnut cake. You can go collect it now.” Marian hesitated and offered to give Leah her own ticket, but Noah and Lisa cut her off at once. “No, you’ve been looking forward to this forever. We planned to watch together.” My fiancé Victor snatched the ticket from my grasp and handed it to Leah. “Let Leah take it. You aren’t that into stand-up. It’s freezing out here. Go get the cake and head home. We’ll celebrate your birthday after the show.” Marian had to go in as we’d arranged, Leah had to go in to mend her broken heart. I was the only one with no place inside. They forgot I planned this whole outing and paid for every ticket. This was meant to be my birthday, yet I ended up locked out. I stood there watching the five of them file forward for ticket checks. It dawned on me: in our little group, only four seats were permanent. The fifth was never guaranteed to be me. It could be anyone. Right then, I knew I didn’t need them for my birthday. And I didn’t need them in my life at all.

At my best friend Grady's wedding, the bouquet landed right in my arms. Grady slid over, eyebrows bouncing. "Do you know how hard I worked to get Amanda as a bridesmaid? Dude, you've been into her for seven years. Go confess already." I froze, bouquet in hand. The thing Grady didn't know? Amanda Sheffield and I had been secretly dating for a year. I'd thought my years of pining had finally paid off. Then I told her we were done unless she bailed on the date her family set up. She just smiled, totally unbothered. "Ryder Reed, you've loved me for seven years. You really think you can walk away?" The memory cut out. Then Amanda came over, yanked the bouquet from my hands, and handed it to the guy beside her like it was nothing. She took one look at my face and lifted a brow, smug as hell. "See? You can't leave me."

My wife stands solemnly at the very front of the crowd at her mother's funeral. I rush there from out of town, only to find two places left. One is beside my secretly married wife of seven years, Grace Rivera, and the other is at the very back. I naturally assume that the seat next to her is mine. But just as I take a step forward, Grace walks right past me and nods to my best friend standing behind me. She says, "Jason, come here." The relatives around us exchange knowing looks. Someone whispers, "Is that Grace's boyfriend? They look so good together." The crowd begins to stir. "I've never seen him before. Apparently, he was her college classmate. With Grace's personality, if she's willing to have someone stand beside her, it means she's chosen him." "No wonder. She even saved that spot for him." I stand there frozen, my fingers tightening around the black umbrella in my hand. Then I walk to the back of the crowd and take my place. With so many people blocking my view, all I can see is Grace's back. Throughout the entire funeral, she never once looks back at me, presumably to avoid giving anyone the wrong idea. Suddenly, it all feels so pointless. What exactly have I been holding on to throughout our seven years of marriage?

At our wedding, my wife's assistant "accidentally" uploaded the wrong photo. The big screen was supposed to display our wedding portraits. Instead, it was a picture of my wife and him in full wedding attire. Their fingers were laced together, their eyes locked in a soft, intimate gaze, looking every bit like a blissfully happy couple. The entire venue erupted in shocked whispers. The assistant froze in shock, acting like he had no idea why he was in the photo. He started panicking, asking if we should just postpone the ceremony. My wife, however, stayed surprisingly calm. She whispered her solution, “Everyone’s here. Postponing now would be humiliating and, honestly, a bad omen. Beside, most people here don’t even know what the groom looks like. Why don’t we just let him stand in for you?” Our friends were dumbfounded. They all thought I’d explode in anger and jealousy after hearing something so outrageous. Instead, I nodded, saying it was actually a great idea. Seeing how composed I remained, my wife looked pleased with herself. She told me that since we were legally married anyway, she’d make it up to me later with another ceremony. However, she seemed to have forgotten one thing: she had just signed the divorce papers.

Camden Price's true love, Lynn Gardner, died on my surgery table. Unexpectedly, the malicious Camden chose to protect me from backlash and even proposed to me. He treated me extraordinarily well after we got married. Camden would take me to taste the hottest chili. We would sign up for the most death-defying activities like bungee jumping. When it was late at night, he would take me to the rowdiest and most dangerous bars to drink our hearts away. All this led to me contracting stomach cancer. During my late-stage cancer, I found the diary he left at home. Everything he did with me was what Lynn wanted to do with him. On the last page of his diary, he wrote hatefully, "She deserves to die." I did die. I died after Lynn was found alive. She had faked her death. I died on the day Lynn was marrying another man. You should be happy now, Camden.

After we got married, Lucy Xander and I maintained a shared expense ledger. Every expense went into it. Nothing was spared, be it big expenses like houses and cars, to little things like condoms. We split everything 50-50. When I did not have enough money to pay for my mom’s funeral, I had asked Lucy to lend me some. She made me sign an IOU and charged me interest at the bank rate. We got into a car accident. I shielded Lucy with my body and suffered severe burns. We were three dollars short for the surgery. Lucy flipped through our ledger and frowned. “I gave you 1,314.50 this morning. I’ve already paid my half.” My face went pale. “Then, treat the rest as a loan.” “You still haven’t paid off your last loan. Your credit is already overdue.” I lowered my head and saw a link in our chat. [Dream Guy Loans] “Try this site. You can get the money within ten minutes, and the interest rate is low.” The next second, Lucy’s childhood friend, Yale Lawson, posted something on social media. [Thank you, Lucy, for helping me out.] The screenshot showed a three million transfer. The note on the payment said: Voluntary Gift. When he was worried that he might lose money, she reassured him. [Don’t worry. I’ve got you covered.] She was willing to cover someone else’s losses, but with me, she kept track of every penny. I looked down and booked a ticket for three days later. I was done with a marriage where everything had to be counted down to the last penny.

I was feeding my seven-year-old daughter, Lucy Langer, when Robert Langer crashed through the front door, reeking of alcohol. His shirt collar hung askew, and red marks blazed across his neck. "Audrey," he said hoarsely, "someone spiked my drink at the charity gala. But don't worry. I've already had my lawyer handle it." I nodded. After so many years of marriage, I knew he only had eyes for me and our daughter. He never strayed. Or so I believed… until eight months later. While Robert was away on a business trip, his cruise ship caught fire. The news dominated every channel. Clutching a sobbing Lucy, I rushed to the hospital, only to find him swathed in bandages, standing outside the maternity ward. "Becca is pregnant," he murmured. "It was that night at the gala… I didn't think it would happen from just once…" He gulped. "When the fire spread, she saved me. But she… got trapped herself." A newborn's wail pierced the corridor as the delivery room doors opened. Becca White was wheeled out, looking pale and exhausted. She clutched my sleeve and pleaded desperately, "Audrey… my babies can't grow up without a father…"

My girlfriend and best friend adopted a stray. She kept going to his place ever since. Whenever she did, she would have that look of impatience on her face as she said, "I would go over to his place, but that cat only lets me hold it." Blake Chaucer sneered. "You think I want you at my place? It's the cat that likes you, not me." They would squabble whenever they met up. Still, it didn't take long for her to memorize his door's passcode. She even remembered how he needed something warm before bed because he had a weak stomach. When she didn't show up on my birthday, she said, "The cat's having a fever, and he can't handle it himself." I held my resentment over our situation for a long, long time, and it erupted on the day my parents came over. They wanted to see her. Alas, they waited for three hours, but she didn't come back. So, I went to Blake's place without telling them, and what greeted me was a particularly clean place that had no signs of a pet living there. There was no cattery, no litter box, and not even a strand of fur lying around. However, there was a pair of women's slippers sitting on the porch and a bottle of perfume Queenie Hilton regularly used in the bathroom. A sticky note was plastered on the fridge's door. It was her handwriting. It read, "I'm making dinner, you dummy."

I was with Don Silas for seven years. From when he had nothing to when he ruled Chicago's entire underworld. To everyone else, I was just his dirty little secret. His men humiliated me in public. His Commission members spat insults at my face. The few friends who knew the truth couldn't stand it. They confronted him. "Are you really going to let Alessia be your shadow forever? You won't even give her a proper title?" Silas was silent for a long time. When he finally spoke, his voice was like ice. "Carina's husband was my most loyal underboss. He took a bullet meant for me. The Outfit demands I honor his sacrifice. I have to pay it." "Alessia loves me. A title is just a title. She'll accept it." My friend felt a chill run down his spine. "But I heard your engagement party with Carina is next week. Alessia is pregnant with your heir. What if she finds out..." Silas's voice was sharp. Final. "Alessia will endure it. For me." I stood in front of my apartment's floor-to-ceiling windows, staring at a picture of the "Heart of Sicily" on my phone. I felt like a fool. The man who whispered in my ear, promising to place this ring—the symbol of the Family's true Donna—on my finger, was Silas. And the man now preparing to give it to another woman in front of all of Chicago was also Silas. The glittering diamond in the photo felt like it was laughing at me. I think Silas was wrong. I won't bet my life, or our child's future, on a man who always expects me to be the one to step aside.

My marriage to Dante Moretti, the heir to the Moretti family, was arranged when we were kids. But after my father died, he publicly refused to marry me. Three times. Each time, he used his dead mother as an excuse, and I couldn't argue. The third time, I walked in on him with some starlet on the anniversary of his mother’s death, and I overheard him sneer: “A boring woman like Isabella? Who the hell would want her?” “So desperate to marry me. It’s pathetic.” I looked down at my white wedding dress, turned on my heel, and knocked on his father's door. Later, on the day I moved into the Moretti estate, I ran into Dante. He thought I was there to force his hand and ran his mouth. But he had no idea I was already his new stepmother.

At the party, my daughter deliberately raises a question to my husband. "Daddy, since Ms. Lloyd is having your baby, does that mean we'll be living with her in the future?" He places the nicely cut steak onto my plate and answers softly, "Your mommy and I made a deal—whoever betrays first will disappear from the other's life. I can't afford for that to happen, darling, so this must stay a secret. Even when the baby is born, I will never let Mommy find out about them." Then, he signs to me, "I'll always love you." My eyes turn red-rimmed without him noticing. Little does he know, my hearing was restored a week ago. He doesn't realize I've learned about the mistress he's been hiding either. And he definitely doesn't know I've secretly bought a ticket to volunteer-teach in the Seru Plateau. All I have to do is wait for the paperwork to clear in seven days. Then, I'll disappear from his life for good.

My husband, Chandler Goodwin, claims that he doesn't understand what the phrases "silent treatment" or "giving the cold shoulder" mean. Yet, in the three years we have been married, he has never once spoken to me sweetly. The first time we have a falling out, I remain proud and dignified. We end up ignoring each other for seven days straight. The seventh time we have a cold standoff, I start to panic a little. However, despite trying all sorts of methods, he doesn't back down. The 11th time it happens, I have already learned to work through my emotions myself. Chandler doesn't even need to say anything before I take the initiative to apologize first. I simply think that he's just a naturally indifferent person, that nobody can warm his stone-cold heart. Then, on the third year of our marriage, I accidentally ruin his dress shirt while ironing it. Chandler doesn't say a word, but that very night, he packs his things and moves into a hotel. On the third day of being blocked, I head to his company with a handwritten apology. While passing by his office, I spot him leaning over to shoot his angry assistant a doting smile. "I'm sorry for raising my voice at you just now and upsetting you. It's been 57 minutes since you started ignoring me. Please stop giving me the cold shoulder, alright?" I freeze on the spot, the apology letter in my hand practically burning my fingers. As it turns out, it's not that he doesn't know what the silent treatment means—it's just that I've never been the person he wants to coax.

Shortly before I was due to reunite with my birth family, the five of us got together for a card game. Vera Collins didn't lose once all night, yet I drank 12 shots of vodka in her place. Every time I was about to play my last card, my adoptive brother, Allen Hayes, would block me with a high card, then deliberately play a low one that Vera could beat. In the final hand of the night, I was down to my last card. Allen played a high card to take the lead from me, then followed it with a low card that Vera could beat. Vera beat it. My boyfriend, Damon Reid, was holding high cards. He smiled and said, "Pass." Leo Grant, who I'd grown up with, passed too. Vera quickly laid down her last card. She'd won again. She blushed and said softly, "Stop letting me win, you guys. Eva's going to be upset." Allen pushed the 13th shot of vodka toward me. "Vera's good at cards. So what if you lose a few hands?" Leo gathered Vera's cards for her. "You're different. When you lose, you get upset and try to hide it." Damon idly ran his thumb over my palm. "Don't worry. Eva's not that petty. She can take a loss." But they'd forgotten that tonight was supposed to be about celebrating my good news. By the end of the game, not one of them had asked what my good news was. Vera eagerly suggested we play again the following week. Leo said casually, "Eva, get there early and save our spot again." Allen added, "And get a new deck. This one's falling apart." I nodded. I didn't tell them there wouldn't be a next time. Beneath my last card lay a plane ticket to Sicily. Next Monday, I was going home to my birth parents. They'd made it clear, hand after hand, that all they cared about was helping Vera win. So this time, I was leaving the table for good.

The entire New York mafia world knows that Don Alessandro of the Rossi family takes a brutal punishment from the Council every year just to marry me. Because the Rossi family has a strict rule: all marriages must be approved by the Council. Yet, for three years in a row, Alessandro submitted our marriage application, and every time, it was rejected! The first year, he was locked in solitary confinement for three days and nights. The second year, his back was whipped raw. The third year, he even knelt in a torrential downpour to beg for their mercy. I always thought it was my fault, that I just wasn’t good enough to meet the Council's standards. It wasn't until the fourth year that I found out all those rejection letters from the Council were forged by Alessandro himself. And the reason was Mia—his secretary who had been secretly obsessed with him for years. "Mia has been by my side for eight years. She took a bullet for me. She held me and cried, saying the day I get married would be the darkest day of her life." "I love Jane, but I just can't bear to hurt Mia." "It just means marrying Jane a little later. She loves me so much, she won't mind." But he was wrong. Even though my heart was breaking, I didn't want this kind of love anymore. I called my father: "Dad, I'm ready to come back to Italy and marry the Don of the Caruso family."

At my wedding rehearsal dinner, a photo of me and my fiancé’s older brother—naked in bed—was displayed in front of everyone. I said it was a setup. Jason, my soon-to-be husband and the Don of the Vale, said, “I trust you.” He erased the footage—and married me anyway. For two years, he kept me hidden while my stepsister, Nerissa, stood beside him in public. He said it was to protect me—so I believed him. I believed him even when the rumors said he was sleeping with her, even when he introduced her as his Donna… until today, when I found them in bed together. Jason didn’t even stop kissing her when he saw me. “Do you like this anniversary gift, Alina?” That was when I finally understood— Jason had never believed me—and the reason he still married me wasn’t love. It was punishment.