Contos e Romances sobre Feel-Good Story com Cheating

When I'm done putting my daughter, Alani Carter, to sleep, I suddenly come across a social media post. "My husband, who's always been uncaring about the household matters, suddenly decides to be more engaging and helpful recently. What's the reason behind his change in behavior?" The comments in that comment section cut to the chase immediately. "Oh, there's no doubt about the answer. Either he's having an affair behind your back, or he wants your money." As soon as I leave a like on the answer, my husband, Michael Carter, who has never cared about Alani before, suddenly asks me, "What sort of homework does Alani have today?" That's when I notice the parents' group chat on my phone, where Demi Miller's mother, Yvette Miller, has tagged Michael there abruptly. "Mr. Carter, what's tonight's homework?" He has responded to her immediately, "Give me a moment. I'll send you the list later." I glance at the time. It's already 10:30 pm. We've been married for so many years, and yet Michael has never responded to any of my WhatsApp messages on time before. I secretly tap on Yvette's profile picture, only to find out that her social media feed is filled with coincidental meetings with Michael. Apparently, she has met him coincidentally at the amusement park, at a bookstore, and even at a family restaurant the three of us have frequented. When I pick Alani up from the kindergarten in the next evening, I happen to overhear Yvette telling another parent, "Alani's dad sure has a heart of gold! He even helps me take care of Demi! "Whenever I ask him questions regarding Demi, he's able to answer me on the spot. Parents who care this much about children are a rarity these days!" I continue the topic smilingly, "Isn't that right? Michael has never attended a single parent-child meeting related to his own daughter, and yet he's quite skilled in helping others raise their children." After that, I find myself a secluded corner, where I dial my lawyer's phone number immediately. "Have you prepared the divorce contract? I want him to leave this marriage without a single cent to his name!"

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 my seventh wedding anniversary, I personally whip up a nice feast. But my husband, Davis Stark, only takes a few bites before telling me that he has something urgent to deal with at the company. I trail behind him the whole time, only to witness him walk into a fancy banquet hall, where a banquet is being held for his newborn fraternal twins. Davis even produces a black card and gives it to his secretary, Sonia Robertson, in a solemn manner. "Thank you for your hard work, Sonia. In the future, I will give all of my assets to the children." Sonia's expression lights up immediately. Then, she presses her lips against Davis' happily. "It's an honor to be able to give birth to your children, Mr. Stark." I let out a cold chuckle as I open the banquet hall's door. I want to see how on earth is Sonia capable of giving birth to Davis' children when he's already infertile, to begin with.

The day the Royal Academy's screening results came out, the twin Alpha heirs — Julian and Damien — stood in front of me. Each of them was holding an application form. "Ivy. Have you decided whose name you're putting on that form?" In my previous life, I chose Julian for love. I gave up my direct admission to the Royal Academy and stayed behind in the pack with him and Celeste — his childhood-friend Omega who'd failed the screening — to help them train for another year. I thought that was what it meant to go through hardship together. That was love. But the pack laughed at Celeste — an Omega who thought she could get into the combat track at the Royal Academy. She couldn't stand the gossip, ran off alone, and was killed by rogue wolves. Julian threw me into the silver pit — the pit our pack used to execute traitors. Silver burns a wolf's flesh like acid. "If you hadn't been so desperate to cling to me, I could've focused on protecting Celeste. She wouldn't be dead!" "Ivy Hale — all of this is your fault. You ruined us." He poured silver down my throat. I died thrashing in agony. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day the screening results were announced. This time, I slipped my arm through Damien's and gave the brightest smile I had. "Let's apply to the Royal Academy together." Julian let out a quiet, relieved breath and turned to go find his Omega. He didn't see the way Damien's hand tightened around mine — or the obsession and ambition he couldn't quite hide behind his eyes.

Seven years into my marriage to Sebastian, we had our first child. On Logan's first birthday party, one of the old friends Sebastian had known since prep school rattled a little velvet cup of dice in Logan's face and laughed. "Come on, Mrs. Forsythe, humor us. Let the birthday boy roll. A game. For old times' sake." Logan giggled and slapped at the cup. "If he rolls a six," the groomsman went on, grinning sideways at Sebastian, "Sebastian goes and picks Serena up from the airport tonight. Deal?" The moment I heard her name, my blood went cold. I turned to Sebastian. He'd been keeping in touch with her behind my back. All this time. He caught my eyes. He covered my shaking fingers with his and frowned slightly. "Don't be jealous over nothing. We're all friends. It's just a ride from the airport." And then, without quite meaning to, he nodded. Permission given. Logan laughed and opened his little fist. The dice clattered across the linen. A six. "That's fate!" someone whooped. "Serena's flight lands in two hours. You'll make it!" The room erupted. Glasses up. Backs slapped. Sebastian surrounded. His face softened and he turned and went for the door. Watching his back disappear through that door, I didn't do what I used to do. This seven-year bet of mine — I had lost it, completely.

During a train ride, I happen to notice an intimidating-looking man staring at his phone while seated next to me. Surprisingly enough, an R-rated scene is playing out on his screen. Out of the kindness of my heart, I remind the man not to watch such things in a public setting. Without raising his head, he replies coldly, "This is the security footage of my home." Feeling very awkward, I quickly apologize to him. "I'm so sorry. I didn't know that. I'm really sorry." Just as I'm about to say something else, the male protagonist of the footage suddenly raises his head. At that moment, I feel my blood going cold in my veins. After all, he's Reynolds Mitchell, the fiance with whom I'm supposed to partake in a mating ceremony next month.

While inspecting my family's cold-storage operations, my husband, Hayden Gibson, and the poor college student I had sponsored, Olivia Hall, suddenly disappeared. As I passed by a research supply container, lines of floating text suddenly appeared in my vision. [That was close! They almost got caught by the heiress! Good thing Hayden reacted fast and pulled the innocent young woman into the cargo container.] [But this supply container is about to get locked and loaded onto a ship and sent to the Southfrost Reach research station. Are those two trying to turn themselves into ice sculptures?"] I just stood there. Hayden, my husband, who had married into my family, was cheating right under my nose? I was about to pull open the container door when Hayden's personal assistant, Robin, stepped in front of me with a smile. "The seal around the door was just waxed, and it hasn't dried yet. You might get your hands dirty." The bullet comments appeared again. [That scared me to death! This assistant is pretty smart. Once Hayden gets out, the assistant definitely deserves a new car.] [As expected of the Chosen One. He can always escape danger! I can't wait to watch his sweet romance with the sweet, innocent young woman.] I stared at the floating text and laughed coldly. "These are critical supplies for the research team. Seal the container now so that nothing goes wrong. Get the welder and weld the door shut." The assistant froze, and the bullet comments momentarily stopped. [Holy moly! She's so ruthless! The two people inside are completely naked right now!] [Help! If the container door gets welded shut, Hayden and the female lead will spend a month at sea and really freeze into ice sculptures!]

Our usually reliable nanny, Emma Spencer, called me three times in a row today, sounding completely panicked. "Ma’am, something’s wrong. The kindergarten security won’t let Noah in, no matter what! They said the name that shows up when they scan the card doesn’t match. The card belongs to a kid named 'Gabriel', not our Noah at all!" My hand paused over the report I was reviewing, my brows furrowing. "Emma, didn't my husband hand the card to you himself last night?" On the other end, she sounded like she was about to cry. "Yes! But the scanner shows the name 'Gabriel Cooper'. The guard says we must have the wrong card and keeps questioning me!" That didn’t make any sense. To get Noah into the top-tier Starlight Bilingual Academy, I had pulled every string I could half a year ago and paid a $300,000 donation just to secure a spot. For the past month, my husband, Scott Shaw, had been the one driving our son to school every day. This morning, he said he was busy and couldn’t take Noah, so Emma went instead. So how did it suddenly turn into someone else’s school card the moment she took over?

My husband, Geoffrey Terell, takes his childhood friend, Valerie Nash, and his best female friend, Jennifer Gorman, to a business gathering. But he suddenly texts me at 2:00 am, saying that he's suffering from a stomachache and that he wants me to pick him up at the clubhouse. Driven mad by anxiety, I quickly head toward the clubhouse with some chicken soup. But all I see is Geoffrey with his arms around both women and his eyes closed. He even starts kissing them under the guise of feeding them alcohol with his mouth. Valerie also has an arm around his shoulders as she shoots me a provocative look. "Wow, you're quick to come under Geoffrey's orders! You really are an obedient one! It so happens that Geoffrey isn't done with his dare yet. "How about you get down on your knees and serve us alcohol? Then I'll consider this round Geoffrey's win." I expect Geoffrey to turn that idea down. But he merely leans against the couch with his arm around Valerie's waist before pointing at the alcohol bottles on the table, as though he's ordering a maid around. "You hear that? Hurry up and pour us alcohol! Valerie and Jennifer are my queens tonight. I must obey them no matter what. "Also, you're not allowed to leave if you don't finish pouring the bottles." I've invested tens of billions of dollars just to make Geoffrey the most prominent CEO in Hallford. At the end of the day, he chooses to play the role of a lapdog for other women, huh? Since he likes demeaning himself that much, he can forget about keeping his position as the CEO.

My boyfriend pulled in two million a year. He told me that once he'd banked five hundred thousand, he'd invest in my gallery. Year one, he said the startup was bleeding money; he hadn't saved a cent. Year two, he needed a new car to keep up appearances; no funds for me. By year five, he was on his private yacht brokering a major deal and told me not to bother him. I stood outside the cabin door and listened to the laughter rolling out from inside. "If Celeste wanted to open a gallery, Eth would write her a million-dollar check without blinking." "Hell yeah. If Celeste hadn't gone abroad back then, that knockoff he's got now wouldn't even be in the picture." Ethan's voice drifted through the crack in the door, lazy, dismissive. "Enough. Emily's been with me five years. I'll still put something in for her." "She's a free drafting machine. She's not worth five hundred grand. One day's revenue at the firm, maybe. Call it round. Two thousand bucks." My eyes burned. I pulled out my phone and called the one man Ethan hated most in all of New York, Adrian Sterling. "Mr. Sterling. That partnership agreement you offered me? I'm signing it first thing tomorrow morning."

My family sold one of their properties to put me through school abroad. Nathan Kingsley and I had been together three years. Two of those were long-distance. Through those two years of me alone overseas, he never broke contact — airport pickups, long phone calls, every anniversary remembered. I'd never once doubted him. I thought distance hadn't beaten us. The day I flew home, he was waiting at Arrivals with a bouquet of flowers. He smiled and said, "Finally." We set the engagement date. We picked out the dress. We booked the reception. The day the wedding march began and I stood at the top of the aisle looking at him, I thought — these three years were worth every minute. Then the doors behind me opened. My sister walked into the chapel, in a white dress, and slid her arm through his. She smiled at me. "Sorry, sis. Those airport pickups? I'm the one who sent him. For the last three years, he's been mine the whole time."

For the past two weeks, my best friend, Matthew Douglas, had been dodging me. While scrolling, I came across a tarot livestream and decided to use it to check whether something had gone wrong between us. I had barely sent two gifts into the stream when an anonymous male account unmuted himself. His voice was deliberately disguised, but he spoke with barely concealed glee. "Tarot master, I'm about to run off to Sanyara with my best friend's fiancée. Read my cards. Will he catch us?" I recognized the cadence, the pauses. I was still frowning at my screen when the tarot reader flipped a card and said, "The cards show some risk. My advice? Lay a smokescreen first. Tell him your company is sending you on a business trip. Stagger the timing, and you'll be in the clear." A second later, my phone lit up. A message from Matthew appeared. Matthew: [Sorry, man. I can't make it to your suit fitting this week. An investor just sprung a last-minute site visit on me in Sanyara. My bad!]

On the day of my wedding to Christine Moore, strange floating comments suddenly appeared before my eyes. [LMAO, the real young master still has no idea the bride is fake! Christine is at the hospital accompanying the fake heir Troy Bolton right now!] [It doesn’t matter who the bride is anyway. Christine only agreed to the marriage for the Shane family’s investment. The fake heir is her true love.] [Serves this villain right for driving our poor Troy away the moment he came back. In the end, the female lead destroys his entire family, and honestly, he deserves it.] I hid the shock in my eyes and finished the wedding as if nothing had happened. I refused to become a stepping stone in someone else’s love story. And I definitely refused to die as their disposable villain. If she did not want to marry me, then fine. I would make the fake wedding real, and marry someone else instead.

After my drill instructor husband, Vincent Bennett, returns home from a business trip and gives me an intense "punishment session," I collapse onto the bed and start scrolling through my phone. That is when I come across a trending local post. "My boyfriend is cheating on me, and I am about to catch him in the act! Anyone in this city wants to come with me and catch him with his mistress?" The comments below are full of people egging her on. "Where? Hurry and drop the address! I am bringing my toilet plunger to beat that scumbag!" "Kitchen knife ready. Miss, I am with you. We'll chop up that homewrecker first!" I am instantly excited. If I were not so exhausted, I would want to join the drama too. Just as I am thinking that, the poster uploads the address. I tap it open. In the next moment, I freeze. Unit 1203 of Building C, Jarmond Heights. Isn't that my address?

On our wedding night, my wife, Gwen Everett, has received a classified mission that requires her to go on an urgent business trip. After watching her leave with a smile on my face, I quickly turn on the GPS locator in her phone right away. The locator shows that she's making a beeline toward a love motel. Immediately, I hack into the motel's security cameras. In the monitor, I can see Gwen making love to my younger brother, Deacon Hopkins, passionately. After they've used three packs of condoms, Gwen shields her belly while whining cutely to Deacon, "Be gentle to me. Don't hurt the baby, okay?" Deacon just smirks as he begins peppering kisses all over her, making her blush brightly. "Then you should get pregnant for a few more times. At the end of the day, Derek's the one raising them anyway." My heart feels as though it has gotten plunged into the icy abyss. At that moment, my department calls me and asks me about Gwen's whereabouts. As I watch the couple entangling with each other on the screen, I reply calmly, "I want to report Gwen Everett for forging her schedule. She might have betrayed the nation by fleeing with core technology."

I woke up at midnight to find my husband out of bed. I called his number, but there was no answer. I searched everywhere and realized he wasn't around. The young nanny had disappeared as well. I barely reached the garage when I heard muffled wanton noises inside. I stormed over, trying to catch the infidel pair in the act. When I opened the door, my husband was standing there with a surgical kit. He was about to head out in his car. He explained, "Honey, I need to catch a flight to Silverport. A patient there needs immediate surgery. You should go to bed without me." I sighed in relief, feeling ridiculous to have doubted him. Suddenly, a few comments rolled before my eyes. "That was so close! They almost got caught! Luckily, Ava had cleverly hidden in the trunk. That bitch will find nothing once Ethan drives away." "My heart is swelling just from watching them! A stoic, genius doctor and a cheery, adorable nanny are a perfect match! Tonya stands no chance against Ava!" I glanced at the shut trunk and slid into the driver's seat with a smile, offering, "Honey, why don't I give you a ride to the airport?"

The moment we witness the last surviving child in the safehouse getting pinned to the wall by a zombie before having his guts torn out, all the men in the team break down mentally. "Captain, didn't you claim that Selene kept rambling nonsense because she had gone crazy out of fright toward the zombies? Isn't that why you reassured us to keep watch while you and Madeline watched the sunrise on the summit? "Why is it that my newborn has already gotten devoured by a zombie as soon as I return to the safehouse?" Quinton Morwood goes deathly pale at the accusation. My heart feels as though it's gotten torn into pieces as I stare at the tragedy. In my previous life, when the zombies attacked the safehouse, Quinton, who was the captain of the defence team, had taken the entire team with him just so he could watch the sunrise with Madeline Moore at the mountain summit. I did everything I could to summon everyone back to the base. That was how everyone's lives were spared from the zombie attack. But Madeline was pissed that she did't get to watch the sunrise, so she left the safezone angrily on her own. That was how she got grabbed by a zombie and eaten by a horde. By the time Quinton and his squad killed the entire horde, he just hugged Madeline's femur to his chest without saying a single word. On the day I gave birth to my baby, Quinton hacked my limbs off before throwing me into the roaming hordes of zombies. I could only watch as the zombies tore my flesh off my bones before Quinton saved me again by healing me. The cycle kept going on and on until I witnessed the last piece of flesh being torn off my body. "You're the one who killed Madeline, you wretched woman! Since you like competing with her that much, I'll make sure you'll die a worse death than hers!" When I open my eyes again, I've returned to the day the zombies are attacking the safezone.

On our seventh wedding anniversary, my wife handed me a divorce agreement that was valid for seven days. She had fallen for a male intern at her company who was seven years younger than her. She wanted to experience what she called a proper romance with him, one that would last exactly seven days. On the first day, they booked an entire private cinema and made love to each other from the entrance to their seats. On the second day, they went to the seaside to set off fireworks, and the light spread across half the skyline of Veyron. On the fifth day, the intern burst into an art exhibition I hosted and cried in front of the entire press. He accused me of coming between them. That same evening, the story of a rising painter becoming a homewrecker for love reached the top of the trending searches, and the hate comments poured in. On the sixth day, my wife apologized to me on the intern’s behalf, and his punishment was a three‑day ban from shopping. On the seventh day, my wife finally sensed something was wrong. She called me ninety‑nine times and reminded me that we were supposed to reconcile the next day. I replied with a single “okay” and quietly told my assistant to arrange for my luggage to be shipped out. What she did not know was that seven days earlier, I had already made plans to go abroad to continue my studies. This time, I was done playing her game.

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.

During the long holiday, to accommodate the travel plans of my hospital director wife, I—someone who hadn't taken a single day off all year—begged and groveled, burning through every last bit of goodwill in my department just to scrape together seven days of comp time so I could go with her. But I waited at the airport from morning until night. After a hundred ignored calls, she finally rang me back, her voice totally casual. "The signal's a nightmare out at the scenic area. I forgot to mention—Julian booked the tickets a day early by accident, so we're already at Tamoe Mount! Since you missed your flight anyway, just go back to the hospital and cover some shifts. It's the hospital's busiest time. Didn't you say everyone in your department was upset about you taking time off? Go make it up to them." On the other end of the line, the wind was howling. Her young colleague, laughing brightly, jumped in. "Hey, Rita, I had no problem switching my shifts. I guess he just slacks off too much—no wonder nobody likes him." Not only did she not stand up for me, she actually agreed. "You hear that, Kevin? Learn to play nicer with your coworkers. Stop obsessing over fun all the time. Then later, it'll be easier for me to push through your raise and promotion." I didn't argue or make a scene. I just said "Got it," hung up, and walked straight to the hospital run by her biggest competitor. "Are you still looking for a vice director? I work hard, I don't need weekends off, and as long as I get normal comp time, I'm good."