Contos de Campus com Mistress e Romances com Cheating

At the class session joined by the school leaders and officials from the Department of Education, my lecture PPT was swapped for a sensational "Mistress's Charge Letter". "Charge one. Willingly being the other woman makes her an unsuitable role model for students." "Charge two. Attempting to secure a higher position through sex." "Charge three. Menacing the lawful wife with the absurd hope of advancing through pregnancy." Amidst the leaders and officials, my husband's illegitimate child accused me of disrupting her parents' marriage. In the name of "expelling the mistress to achieve justice", she coerced me, the true wife, into a humiliating bow to the mistress. I confronted my husband upon his arrival, "Care to explain? Why didn't I know that you had an illegitimate daughter?" He responded with a strike to the girl's face. "Where are you from, you unruly child? You're so ill-mannered!"

On the day Andrew Zelenski confesses his feelings to the pretty transfer student, everyone thinks I'll break down. They expect me to come running while crying and trying to stop him. I don't show up even after he confesses, though. Andrew has no idea that while he's busy confessing, I'm wearing his roommate's hoodie and sitting on his roommate's bed. I look at his roommate innocently and ask, "How are we going to sleep tonight now that I've wet your bed?" Spencer Lithgow looks away from me as his Adam's apple bobs. He throws a towel at me. "Go dry your hair. You can sleep once I've changed the sheets."

I am a succubus, and during my heat cycle, I must have sex with a partner to survive. I unexpectedly saved a serpentfolk man, a species renowned in the beast-kin world for possessing the most potent sexual prowess of all. I leveraged the favor to make him help me through my heat as an incubus. But just as I was clinging to him again, scrolling comments appeared before my eyes — and I discovered I was the villainess in a novel. The male lead secretly despised me. The real heroine was about to appear. And once he recovered his memories, I'd be tossed aside. So I decided to divorce him. But my serpent husband didn't seem to agree with that plan.

In my previous life, I practically dragged my useless childhood sweetheart to Harvard with me. My academic record was top-notch, and I spent three years tutoring him. I asked my father to donate a library to Harvard University, ensuring that they would extend an additional offer of admission to Felix. Finally—when he rejected the offer in favor of taking a gap year to go work in Australia with the girl he was infatuated with—I raised such a massive scene that I ultimately forced him to go to Harvard with me. After graduation, we got married. The natural ending. He built a tech empire and made me the wife of the richest man in the country. One regret. He died too young. Didn't leave me a single word at the end. Just went. And I — I inherited his billions, and lived comfortably all the way to eighty-eight. But when I died, I saw his soul. His eyes were blood-red. "You forced me onto this path. You took me from the only woman I ever loved. I died with regret. Pray we never meet again in the next life." ...What the fuck? He'd been in that much pain? And I was the only one — happily riding it out? Captions drifted across my vision. [Lmao — how thick is this side character's skin?] [Male lead dies young in agony, she breezes through to 88 as the richest widow in the country.] [The girl he actually loved was the one who flunked her SATs and ran off backpacking, hello???] [They both died young, missed each other, and the side character had the time of her life.] Even I felt bad. When I opened my eyes, I was back — standing in that basement he'd sworn would be his life of freedom, on the day he was supposed to reject his Harvard offer. This time, I am not stopping him from going to Australia.

On graduation photo day, my boyfriend, Ethan Jones, takes more than 200 photos of Chloe Lloyd, the prettiest girl in our class. As president of the photography club, he knows better than anyone how to find the most flattering angles. Chloe stands beneath a tree and smiles at him. "Are you sure this isn't too much trouble?" Ethan looks down and flips through the photos on his camera. "Not at all. You look good no matter how I photograph you," he says gently. When my turn comes, I clutch the hem of my skirt and walk over. Ethan casually presses the shutter twice. "Done." I stare at him. "That's it?" He frowns at me. "You never look good in pictures anyway. Don't hold everyone else up." I look at the two photos on his camera. My eyes are closed in one, and half my face is hidden in the tree's shadow in the other. I ask him to take a few more, but instead, he puts up a post on the campus forum. "Photographer wanted. 20 dollars to snap a few graduation photos of my girlfriend." Half an hour later, I receive a private message from an unfamiliar profile. I send over my location, then say quietly, "Just so you know, I'm not photogenic." The reply comes almost immediately. "Your photographer didn't know how to work with you." After the shoot, he sends me the unedited photos. I'm stunned when I see the photos. I never knew I could look this good on camera. Even crazier, the photographer who took the job for 20 dollars seems to know what he's doing better than the president of the photography club.

Zach Shaw and I had been in a long-distance relationship for four years when his study partner, Amy Lewis, appeared in the frame during our video call. Amy pursed her lips together and said, "Megan, Zach still hasn't finished today's homework yet." I froze. I had just wanted to say we would only talk for ten minutes when Amy cut in again. "By the way, I filtered out the celebrity gossip you sent him today. He gets distracted as soon as he sees it, and he's only half as effective then." She tilted her head and then said in an innocent tone. "You won't blame me for meddling, will you?" Zach looked down and flipped through his book without saying anything. I was once again stunned. I thought of the sunset photos, the street food stalls, and the pictures of new dresses I had sent him, the ones he had never answered. She had cleared them all away. A heavy weight settled in my chest. Zach finally raised his hand. "Amy helps me sort my messages. It's a good thing." Amy leaned closer to the screen and lowered her voice. "I heard you only scored 1,200 on the SAT, but Zach scored 1,400..." She paused, as if she was figuring out her words. "He always says he wants to go to grad school in the same city as you, but your scores are so far apart. He has to lower his standards for you." Then, she stepped back to Zach's side and patted his shoulder. "Work hard. I'm here with you." Zach looked up and nodded at her. His expression was soft and natural, as if they had already gotten used to standing next to each other. My throat tightened, and I felt my chest slowly becoming tighter and tighter. "Get some rest, then," I said as I forced myself to keep my pride and ended the call. My phone screen still showed the last message I had sent him. [It's raining today. Remember to wear something warm.] There was no reply. Just like the past four years. So, he had not been absent at all. I was the absent one.

My girlfriend was a chess prodigy while I had trouble playing checkers, but she always let me win. When others questioned if I deserved her, she would tell them with unshakeable conviction, "I'd rather lose everything than lose him." Later on, she joined the national team while I stayed in a local college. Despite being apart for four years, we were always on video calls, and I'd travel over to visit whenever I had a break, even if it meant watching her from a distance through the training camp fences. We never thought we'd drift apart until one competition, where she blundered across seven rounds because she was playing a certain handsome youth. I knew right then that it was over between us.

My stomach cramped with pain. Lisa Witherspoon said she'd go buy me some hot milk, but she came back with a room-temperature one instead. When I asked her about it, she brushed it off. "I ran into Freddy on the way. He said he wanted something hot, so I gave it to him. Room temperature's basically the same anyway." Standing in the cold November wind, I thought about the past three years, every single time Lisa had chosen Freddy Bateman over me, and I suddenly felt like none of it meant anything anymore. I heard my own voice, perfectly calm, saying, "Let's break up." She looked at me like it was a joke. "So which of my social media accounts are you going to block this time?" What she didn't know was that before I ever said the word breakup, I'd already applied to a top university, Monarch University. This time, I was really leaving.