เรื่องสั้นและนิยายในฉากFeel-Good Story Cheating

An app had been making the rounds online lately—one that let you text your future self. Right before the final paper of the SATs, I decided to jump on the bandwagon and fired off a message: [Future me, do I end up marrying Liam Tinsley?] The screen flickered, and a reply from an "Unknown Number" popped up almost instantly: [Yes. You had a big, grand wedding.] I clutched my phone and typed back fast: [And Mia Thompson was my maid of honor, right? She's my best friend!] The response came just as quickly: [She was. But she wasn't just the maid of honor, she slept with Liam on your wedding night.] My smile froze mid-expression. Then a second message hit: [Truth is, you didn't need to go through all that trouble tanking your scores just to match his. He bombed the math section on purpose—so he could end up in the same city as Mia, who was at the bottom of the class.] [He pushed you to turn down that top-tier university—not for your sake, but because he didn't want Mia to feel inferior next to your grades.] The pre-exam warning bell cut through the air. But I was frozen, my body ice-cold, unable to move. One last message slammed into my screen: [If you don't believe me, head straight to the motel behind the school after the test. You'll see the truth for yourself.]

On the day of my wedding to James Jonas, his best friend, Mia Rodriguez, appeared in front of me, pregnant. She cried with tears in her eyes, “Ames, you have everything. Please, just give James to me. I’m having… his baby…” I ripped off my veil and threw it on the floor. Turning around, I saw James' panicked eyes. Perhaps he remembered our contract: If anything goes wrong with this wedding, his fortune will be mine.

After the birth of our daughter, my husband left for a dangerous mission. My in-laws' initial joy soured, and they regarded my baby with disdain. Maria, my mother-in-law, was particularly scornful. In a rare show of familial love, my father-in-law Lincoln took my daughter out for a playdate. I thought he had finally grown fond of her, only for him to strike me the moment he returned. "How dare you betray my son! I'll kill you!" "Yes! Beat that loose woman to death together with that brat!" Shifting my gaze from the report on the floor to my furious father-in-law, I pulled out several photos—my naked mother-in-law Maria, caught with another man. "Let's see who the real loose woman is!"

On my birthday, my fiancé used his supermarket points to get me a pair of dishwashing gloves. But at an auction, he bought a five-million-dollar gem for his first love. I was mad, confronting him, but he called me a gold digger. "I've been giving you money to spend. Isn't it only right that you take care of me? This was supposed to be my final test for you. If you passed, we'd get married. You've let me down big time." I broke up with him. He turned around and proposed to his first love. Five years later, we ran into each other on a private vacation island. Alex Thompson saw me in the workers' uniform picking up trash on the beach. He mocked me on the spot. "You turned your nose up at the gloves I got you, and here you are, scavenging garbage. Now, even if you begged me, I wouldn't give you a second glance." I ignored him. My son's social studies project was to clean up the backyard with a parent. His dad had expanded the yard all the way to the beach. Cleaning it up was exhausting.

After helping my husband build his business from the ground up, I settled into life as a full-time housewife. When our daughter's tenth birthday approached, I planned to host a grand celebration for her. I booked a party that cost 2 thousand dollars per table. But when I swiped my card at the hotel, the staff gave me a strange look. "Mrs. Richmond, this card doesn't even have fifty dollars in it to charge." Flushed with embarrassment, I went home to confront my husband. He wore an apologetic expression. "Lately, the company's been competing for contracts. The new government official is insatiably greedy, and I've had to spend a lot under the table to smooth things over. Once the funds turn around, I'll make sure our daughter gets the grand birthday she deserves." I gave him a gentle, understanding smile—but as soon as I turned away, I began tallying our assets. Because that so-called "new government official" was none other than my father. And in his office, there hadn't been any bids or contracts at all. Now I intended to find out exactly where my husband had spent all our money.

Five days before my wedding, a group of MadeMen drag me to an underground casino. "I'm the fiancé of Lorenzo Gambino, Don of the Gambino family and Gambino Corporation! Think of the consequences you'll face if you dare touch a hair on my head!" My stern warning is met by mocking laughter. I curl up in agony under the brutal blows of their baseball bats; they pierce my ankles with sharp blades, severing my tendons. I gather the remnants of my consciousness to shield my abdomen, where my and Lorenzo's child grows. Lorenzo finally arrives with hired mercenaries. He razes the underground casino to the ground and saves me. I lie on the hospital bed and force myself to hang on. I don't want to end up in a coma. Unexpectedly, I overhear Lorenzo's conversation with a doctor. "It's not too late to operate, Boss. If we delay this any longer, Ms. Jones won't be able to stand anymore! There are many other ways for you to marry Ms. Valente—why did you have to do this to Ms. Jones?" "Being crippled is the only way Renee will obediently accept my and Kelly's child. I can keep a cripple by my side but not a troublemaker. Kelly values ceremony more than anything—I promised her I would give her a perfect wedding," Lorenzo says coldly. "But… Ms. Jones is pregnant. She's four months along…" "Make her miscarry, then." Tears stream down my face without anyone noticing. It turns out no one wants to bless the wedding I've been looking forward to. If so, any woman who wants to be Lorenzo's wife can have him. He's just a small mafia boss, anyway. I'm going back to being the heiress of the East Coast mafia's Don. I'll be the queen of my own life.

At a press conference, business tycoon Charles Lewis and heiress Julia announced their relationship. As reporters frantically clicked their cameras to capture the breaking news, Julia's assistant suddenly collapsed. Bright red blood spread beneath her, forming a pool of blood. With a calm expression, Charles turned to the stunned reporters and explained, "She's pregnant but insists on working. Maybe she just wants attention." I lost my child and my uterus after that incident. At the same time, I became the target of online outrage. I was the assistant, and Charles was my legal husband.

Everyone in the Rossi family knows that their Don, Giovanni Rossi, loves me, Rebecca Costa, more than anyone else. Ever since we got together, he has stopped attending any social events that involve other women. We promised to marry once he returns from negotiating a dangerous arms deal in Aelfana. He was supposed to come back a week before the wedding, but instead, he returned on the eve of the wedding with Rosa Bianchi, his stepsister, in his arms. Rosa was unconscious, and traces of intimacy were visible on her skin. Giovanni kneeled before me, his expression remorseful. "Rebecca… I was drugged. I never meant to betray you. When Rosa threw herself at me, I thought she was you." And I believed him. At least, I did until I overheard a conversation in the changing room backstage at our wedding. One of his men asks, in disbelief, "Did you really mistake her for Rebecca?" "I did for the first night. But for the rest of the week… well, a man ought to have his bit of freedom before getting married." My fingers clench around my phone. In my inbox sits an unopened message—a marriage invitation from Angelo Calavaro, the most enigmatic Don in southern Ilya's underworld. I know what I have to do.

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.

On the day my boyfriend gets engaged, I'm locked in the bedroom even though I'm supposed to be with him. By the time I make it to the venue, I see him passionately kissing his first love. When I confront him, he scoffs. "Kirsty’s a wealthy heiress who can help with my career. Isn't being my girlfriend enough for you?" With my answer loud and clear, I turn and call home. "Mom, Dad—about that arranged marriage you mentioned... I'm in." The day he marries Kirsty Bainbridge is also the day I marry my alliance partner. And the moment he sees me in a wedding dress, he completely loses his composure.

When I am diagnosed with congenital heart disease, I am forced to leave the dance company and give up the career I have spent my entire life working toward. My best friend, Vivian Carter, steps into my place, promising to fulfill my dream in my stead. My boyfriend, Ethan Bennett, proposes to me on the spot. He swears that no matter what happens to me—or what becomes of me—he will never leave my side. Over the next five years, I devote myself to helping Vivian rise through the ranks until she becomes the company's principal dancer. With my support, Ethan's career flourishes as well. And through it all, they never stop telling me they are searching for a way to cure me. This year, while both of them are busy preparing for an upcoming competition, I go to my follow-up appointment alone. But when I receive the results, I am stunned. There is nothing wrong with my heart. Overwhelmed with joy, I clutch the medical report to my chest and rush home, eager to share the news with them. Then, before I can step inside, I hear voices coming from within. Vivian speaks first. "Evelyn's follow-up appointment is coming up. Are you sure nothing will go wrong?" Ethan's voice is calm and unconcerned. "I already took care of it. Her test results will still show that she has heart disease." He pauses before adding, "Besides, she hasn't danced in five years. Even if she somehow finds out, what can she possibly do?" Vivian lets out a quiet laugh. "You're right." I freeze outside the door. The blood drains from my face as their words sink in. So this is the truth. My best friend and the man who promised to love me forever have been lying to me all along. Every promise. Every act of devotion. Every sacrifice I thought they had made for me. It has all been a lie.

It's considered public knowledge that the CEO of Nextronics, Spencer Ford, is totally and utterly smitten with his wife, Nikita Young. Case in point: the very first digital voice assistant that Nextronics launched was called Nikki. Nextronic's newest launch, a smartphone that would revolutionize the tech industry, was to be named the Niko Ultra. Spencer seemed born to be a perfect husband—loving, devoted, and affectionate towards her. That was until she caught him in bed with his assistant. Nikita snapped out of the haze and realized a startling truth—promises could be broken, no matter how sincere the person who made them appeared. "I want to terminate this pregnancy. I don't want to bring this child into the world." "Give me ten days, and I will leave him."

It was three days before New Year's Eve when a court summons arrived. The court ruled that I had defamed Ethan Tanner and his mistress when I insulted them in the homeowners' group chat and ordered me to issue a public apology every day for fifteen days straight. Ethan was beside himself with delight as he waved the judgment in my face. "I told you. This is a society governed by law. Shrews who hurl abuse have to pay the price. You better get cracking on those 15 days of apologies and not a day less!" I stared at his smug face. Instead of crying or making a scene, I turned around and set up my phone stand. "Fine. Have it your way. I'll apologize right now." "I'm gonna make sure that you go viral and watch as your whole life goes up in flames," I thought to myself.

Five years into our marriage, I still hadn't gotten pregnant. The doctor said my fallopian tubes were blocked and that conceiving would be difficult. Even so, my husband, Lucas Enright, loved me with all his heart. Then, on our anniversary, he called and promised me a surprise I'd never forget. But when the estate gates swung open, a pregnant young woman stood outside. The smile froze on my face. Lucas didn't notice. He kissed the top of my head, beaming. "Freya, once we have this baby, the elders in my family will finally stop pressuring you about not having kids." When he saw how pale I was and noticed me trembling, he quickly pulled me into his arms. "Isabella is nothing more than a surrogate. Once she gives birth, we'll send her on her way. "If you don't like having her around, I'll put her in the guest room. You won't even have to see her." I swallowed my hurt and told myself he'd simply gone too far. Surely he still cared about me. But later that night, I walked past the guest room carrying a glass of warm milk on a tray. Through the half-open door, I saw the man who claimed to love me with all his heart tenderly kissing Isabella's pregnant belly. "Baby, grow strong and healthy. In a few more months, we'll get to meet you. "Mommy and Daddy can't wait for you to get here!" In that moment, I realized I was the real outsider in this house, and I always had been!

"Captain! There's a couple burned and fused together!" I sprinted inside. There was Axel Cheatum, my husband, clinging to some woman. Their bodies had fused from the heat. Axel was sobbing, begging, "Save my wife first, please!" His wedding ring flashed on his finger. "It's my fault," he cried. "We drank too much... didn't even notice the fire." "It's not your fault, honey," the woman whispered. "We hadn't seen each other in so long... we couldn't help it." Axel clawed at his scorched skin, trying to free her. That's when I saw her swollen belly. And Axel, throwing everything away for her. In the end, I lost my baby.

For our fifth anniversary, my boyfriend, Caelen Blackwell, flew me—and his mother—to Miami. I thought he was going to propose. Instead, he checked me into the cheapest room of a luxury villa and disappeared. Two days later, I found out he was staying in the private suite with another woman—his mistress, Samatha, the same woman he had just proposed to. When I confronted him, all he said was, “I’d never marry a crippled woman. Look at you, you’ll never be rich, powerful, or beautiful like her.” So I just made one phone call to my father—the most feared mafia boss in Spain—and told him to cut off everything Caelen had been using to build his empire. It’s not like I didn’t know how men like him worked—use a woman up, then toss her aside. I just never thought he would be stupid enough to believe I was the kind of people who could be disrespected or discarded like this.

After dating me for a decade, Alfred Rodriguez officially admitted that he was in a relationship with someone else. It was not me but a popular young actress.Exhilarated, their fans created an online buzz about their dating. I posted a diamond ring on my Facebook, announcing that I'm getting married. Alfred called me."Delete that post. Don't even think about forcing me to marry you in this way. I've just got my reputation in the entertainment circle and announced a relationship. I can't marry you now..." "Mr. Rodriguez, I'm marrying someone else. Come to my wedding party if you're free."I hung up. Alfred went mad. He called me countless times that night. On my wedding day, he turned up with red eyes and asked if I'd elope with him. What? How dare this guy seduce someone else's fiancée in public! What a pervert!

On the day Naomi Alder rose from the ashes, she secretly brought her childhood sweetheart—the one who had abandoned her years ago—into the company behind my back. When I found out, she swore in front of me, "I only want to punish him. I don't have even the slightest feelings for him." I did not lose control. Instead, I made him Naomi's assistant. Tristan Sawyer assured me with absolute certainty, "Don't worry. Between her and me, it will only ever be a superior-subordinate relationship. I would never come between you." I believed him. After all, back when Alder Co. went bankrupt, Tristan had humiliated Naomi in every possible way just to break free from her. It was not until the car accident, when Naomi threw herself forward without hesitation to protect him, that I finally understood. All these years, she had never let him go. When Naomi woke up in the hospital, she had lost her memory. Looking at Tristan and me standing by her bedside, she asked, "Who are you?" This time, I pointed at Tristan and spoke first. "Ms. Alder, this is your husband. I'm your assistant."

I knelt outside Hooper Manor for three days straight before my ex-boyfriend Axel Hooper finally agreed to take me back. Now we're right back to holding hands, kissing, and telling each other how much we love each other. It's as if our breakup never happened. That all changes when Hooper Manor catches fire in the middle of the night. Terrified, I speed all the way back. By the time I get there, flames are lighting up the night sky. Axel comes rushing out in a bathrobe, shielding Rosalie Quade, the fake heiress, as he gets her to safety. Our eyes meet, and without thinking, I raise a hand. I just want to ask if the burn on his shoulder hurts, but he thinks I'm about to go after Rosalie. He shoves me to the ground and yells, "Don't touch Rosie! Fine, I cheated on you again. If you can't stand it, then break up with me again!" I hit the ground hard, sharp gravel cutting into my palms. And just like that, Axel stops looking handsome to me. "Fine. We're done."

I lapse into unconsciousness for a few days after a high fever. When I wake up, I see my boyfriend and his best friend standing by my bed. I want to enliven the atmosphere, so I joke, "Who are you?" Eric Cobb, my boyfriend, is taken aback. I almost laugh at the look on his face. Then, he points at his friend, Jonah Mullen. "Don't you remember? Your boyfriend's been panicking over you. As his best friend, I have to be here with him." This time, I'm the one who's taken aback. Unexpectedly, Jonah steps forward and says, "That's right. I'm your boyfriend, Jonah Mullen."