Mga Maiikling Kuwento at Nobelang Melodramatic Cheating

Lynette Kensington's rules took effect on the second day of our marriage. "Your monthly spending is capped at 2,000 dollars. For any single purchase over 100 dollars, photograph the receipt and send it to me for approval. It's not that I'm cheap. I'm helping you learn how to budget. You've never had any discipline with money," she claimed. I thought she had a point. So for three years, buying a single jacket meant budgeting for half the month, and replacing a pair of contact lenses meant waiting for her approval. Then, last month, I found a supplementary card statement tucked inside the pocket of her trench coat. The cardholder was Jayden Scott, her Administrative Director. The transactions from the previous three months: A luxury menswear boutique: 17,400 dollars. A high-end annual golf membership: 6,400 dollars. A Michelin-starred restaurant: 2,800 dollars. The total amounted to more than a year of my living expenses. I carefully refolded the statement exactly as I had found it and slipped it back into the same pocket. That night, Lynette came home and found me sitting with the ledger. "How much did you spend today?" she asked, barely sparing me a glance. I didn't look up. "25 dollars. 13 dollars on groceries, and 12 dollars on utilities." She gave a satisfied hum and walked into the study. But what I wrote on the last page of the ledger wasn't a number. It was my name, my signature on a divorce agreement she hadn't seen yet.

Mallory Spencer despises disorder and unnecessary trouble above all else. To eradicate such issues from her life, she sticks to a rigidly predetermined schedule. Gifts are purchased in bulk and sent out on the day of the recipient's birthday. Our date spots are always the same. If I want to pick a new restaurant, I have to submit a written request a month in advance. Even our intimate moments are governed by an alarm. "Living a stress-free life matters more than anything else. Let's not cause any trouble for the other," she says. We've been together for seven years now. All along, I've assumed she maintains the same attitude with everyone else. Then one day, we attend a gathering together. When the waiter serves us a plate of pomegranates, she takes one and carefully extracts the pomegranate seeds into a bowl, separating out the pith. Sitting beside her, I reach out for the bowl. She pauses, glances at me, and proceeds to set the bowl down in front of Hank Coleman, the man who used to be my biggest bully. During our days in high school, he used to tear up my books, pour glue on my chair, and lock me in the restroom after school. Even Mallory had once chewed him out for his behavior, saying he'd pay for it. But now, as she sits beside me, she hands him the bowl of pomegranate seeds she has prepared and says, "Dig in." I pull my hand back, feeling uninclined to stick around any longer. I also lose all desire to hold onto her.

Just three days after we got engaged, I stumbled across a private story posted by the girl he had grown up with. 'Too bad the boy who confessed to me ninety-nine times is marrying someone else in ten days.' In the photo, he trailed behind her through a crowded mall, his arms loaded with shopping bags, looking as if he had rehearsed the scene a hundred times. Curious, I scrolled down to read the comments. 'No way. The childhood-best-friend and first-love storyline still lost? Girl, that hurts.' 'Lost? He's getting married and still spending the whole day shopping with her. She didn't lose anything.' 'I feel bad for the bride. I'm seriously waiting for confession number one hundred to happen at the wedding, followed by a runaway groom scene.' Watching strangers bicker in the comments, I quietly pressed the like button, blending into their chaos. None of them knew that in just ten days, I would be the one stepping away from the altar. The fake-death package I'd ordered was already in motion. While my fiance and his childhood sweetheart mourned the love they claimed was out of reach, I quietly counted down the days until I could disappear for good.

Josie Collins and I were supposed to get married during the upcoming long holidays, but she suddenly wanted to postpone our wedding for another month, and she asked that I wait a little longer. As I had nothing else to do during the holidays, I took up a job as a wedding driver. What I did not expect was that the bride I was picking up was Josie. She wore the wedding dress my mother made for her as her ex-boyfriend, William Locke, carried her in his arms. Everyone started yelling, "Kiss her!" Josie smiled and kissed him on the cheek. When she saw me sitting in the car, she panicked. "What are you doing here?" However, she frowned almost immediately and started blaming me. "William's grandmother is suffering from dementia and thinks that we're still together. She has always wanted us to get married, so I'm helping her to make her wish come true. "Why would you come after us all this way? Can you stop being such a schemer and wipe those dirty thoughts from your mind?!" William helped her lift the heavy skirt. "Don't be mad, Sam. I'm just the groom for one day. Josie will still be yours in the end." I stared at her wedding dress. Every thread on it was sewn by my mother before she died, and she had always wanted to see Josie put it on to marry me. However, Josie made me wait, and I did. I waited until my mother breathed her last, and still, she did not witness my wedding. Now, Josie was using the wedding dress my mother made to fulfil someone else's wish. This time, I no longer wanted to wait for her.

My wife, Jenna Cruise, is allergic to men's bodily fluids. Even the slightest skin contact makes her break out in red, swollen patches immediately. We have been married for three years, but we've never been intimate. We even use IVF to have a baby. While I'm with Jenna at her prenatal appointment, a violent patient starts a fight at the hospital, and I get stabbed multiple times just to protect her. I almost lose my life, but the thought of her and our unborn baby is what keeps me going. On the day I'm discharged from the hospital, I receive a video. It shows Jenna making love to another man, doing all sorts of things in bed. Her skin looks flawless. Aside from the love bite the man leaves on her chest, there isn't a single red welt on her body. I look up and see Jenna peeling an apple for me. She's wearing a mask, and her dress is buttoned all the way to the top. She's wearing gloves too, completely covering herself up. The timestamp shows that the video was taken just yesterday. I reach for the buttons on her dress, my hands trembling, but she immediately shoves my hand away. "Don't touch me! Stay away from me!" The look in her eyes makes me feel like I'm something disgusting. I also finally realize that she's not allergic to men's bodily fluids. She's just allergic to me. As Jenna heads to the bathroom to change, I call the number I've had blocked for the past five years. The person on the other end answers almost immediately. "Give me your location. I'll be right there," I say.

“Lenny, I’m not telling you to hand over your engagement to Ava for nothing. I will make it up to you…” The familiar voice echoed in her ears, and the pain made Lena snap her eyes open. In a daze, she realized with a jolt that she had been sent back in time to exactly one month before her wedding to Henry. Her father, Chase Johnson’s earnest, pleading expression was identical to the one in her memories when he had forced her to give up her engagement. “Fine,” Lena said, her voice slightly hoarse as she abruptly cut him off. Chase could not hide the joy on his face. “Lenny, you’ve finally come to your senses!” A cold, detached look flickered in Lena’s eyes, and her lips curled into a faint, mocking smile. “I want one billion dollars–” “One billion? Have you lost your mind?” Before she could even finish her sentence, her father's face turned a deep, angry purple, the veins on his temples bulging out. Lena casually tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear, taking her time to finish the rest of her sentence. “Plus, a legally binding document cutting all ties with you. We will no longer be father and daughter.”

Three days after my daughter was born, my husband was killed by a car while running to the store for some groceries. I was so devastated I passed out. When I came to, his funeral was already over, and a stranger was standing in my living room. "I'm your husband's twin brother. I'll be around to help take care of you and the baby." Later, I locked myself in the bathroom with his urn, sobbing uncontrollably, when I overheard his buddies talking through the open window. "Dude, you’re so cool blooded. Inventing a twin brother just to dodge diaper duty? What's next—triplets and quadruplets coming out of the woodwork too?"

I stumbled across an encrypted folder on my husband's phone, filled with photos of a little girl I'd never seen before. From newborn to first steps, sorted by month—two full years' worth. But the child in those photos wasn't our daughter. When I confronted him, he said she was a girl named Rosie from the children's home I sponsored. The director sent growth updates, and he'd been saving them for me. I never imagined that my warm, thoughtful husband would use my charity to spin a lie. Because every single photo was geotagged to the apartment complex next to his office. And the children's home was on the other side of the city. I didn't call him out right then. Because I wanted to know whose child she really was.

Before my wife, Camille Lamberg, left the house, she dropped an invitation in the entryway. It was for a sip-and-see party, a celebration to welcome a month-old baby. Since I was heading that way anyway, I figured I'd drop it off for her. But the moment I pushed open the doors to the hotel ballroom, I froze as if I'd been struck by lightning. My wife, the woman who'd sworn she wanted to stay child-free, was holding a chubby, rosy-cheeked baby and making the rounds with a glass raised alongside another man. My in-laws gathered around the three of them, beaming as they posed for a family photo. And the photographer was none other than my best friend since childhood, Jonah Grant. The second he spotted me, he rushed over and blocked me from going into the ballroom. "Adam, calm down! Camille just wants a baby. You can't take away her chance to be a mother just because you can't have kids!" It wasn't until the man turned around that I got a good look at him. The man my wife was cheating on me with was Oliver Weaver, my father's illegitimate son. My wife, my in-laws, and my closest friend had all known the truth, and every one of them had still betrayed me.

After three years in a long-distance relationship, I secretly traveled a thousand miles to give my girlfriend a surprise. That afternoon, right outside her apartment building, I caught her playing the claw machine with her first love. The girl I had always considered the perfect, completely devoted girlfriend was gazing at him with a bright, tender smile as he manipulated the joystick. The moment the plushie dropped into the chute, she threw her arms around him, her eyes brimming with delight. I clenched my phone and dialed her number. She answered almost instantly, her voice as soft and caring as ever. "Parker? Why are you calling right now? Did you miss me?" I stared fixedly at her from barely ten feet away, my voice tight. "Where are you? What are you up to?" While cooing into the receiver to reassure me, she attentively reached over and zipped up Benedict Wooten's jacket. Her tone carried just the right mix of fatigue and apology. "I'm still at the office, working late with my team to pull the proposal together. Get some sleep, okay? As soon as this crazy rush is over, I'll fly out to see you." The line went dead. On the street side, an electronic billboard was flashing a breaking news alert. [A major hurricane will make landfall tonight. All residents are urged to seek shelter immediately...] A sudden gale swept through the street, blowing away the last remnants of my wishful thinking. It turned out that her three years of single-minded devotion were nothing more than a masterclass in time management. Candace Richards wasn't loyal. She just wanted to have her cake and eat it too.

In her past life, Elara Newman had married Orion Baron, who turned out to be an absent husband. On the day she gave birth, she suffered a severe hemorrhage and lost consciousness. However, Orion was unreachable. After she was snapped awake by the doctor, she had to sign her name on the surgical consent form while her hands were still shaking. When her children caught a raging fever, Orion was still nowhere to be seen. She had to rush to the hospital all by herself, and after three consecutive days of looking after them, she was exhausted and passed out in the corridor. On the day when her parents passed away in a car accident, Orion was still absent. As she returned home with the urn containing her parents' ashes, she was greeted by a vicious slap across the face. Her uncle immediately berated her for failing to win her husband over. He blamed her that her parents never got a chance to see their son-in-law before they passed and could never rest in peace. By the time Elara turned fifty-eight, she was terminally ill with cancer. Her life was coming to an end.

During those seven years, I helped Michael Spencer pay off his debts and worked alongside him until he became the company’s general manager. Almost all of my daily necessities were “secondhand.” I picked up a decade-old flip phone to use, and mended an old coat with the padding falling out to wear. Even our dishcloth was something I had salvaged from the old rags that the neighbors discarded when they moved. Back then, Michael would always hold me close. His eyes were filled with tenderness. “Nancy, just wait a little longer. “Once things get better, I’ll definitely throw you the wedding of a lifetime.” I believed him. That was until the seventh year, at the wedding rehearsal, when he walked into the backstage area and tossed me a “secondhand” wedding dress. “This is the one my cousin, Joanne, wore when she got married ten years ago. “You’re used to living frugally. A haute couture wedding dress doesn’t suit your style. You’re better off with this vintage one.” Before I had a chance to react, I saw the suit I had picked out replaced by a tattered jacket. It was on my father, Dan Norman’s back. “Your father comes from the countryside. He doesn’t understand suits and etiquette.” “This one from Joanne’s husband fits him perfectly.” Joanne was Michael’s first love. She had just returned home after her divorce last month and was standing beside Michael. I looked down at the frayed wedding dress in my hands. Then, I looked up at my father’s awkward smile. Suddenly, I realized something. This wedding, which I had waited seven years for, was no longer necessary. “Order me the most expensive wedding dress you can find,” I said over the phone. I was going to wear it to marry someone else.

My husband, Ethan Caldwell, has three mistresses who have no idea the others even exist. That is because I always make sure to plan his schedule. "On the 15th, you're going skiing with Lydia Bennett. On the 18th, you're taking Vivian Sinclair house hunting. On the 25th, you're flying to Derbin Isle with Jennifer Harrington to see the Northern Lights. I've already booked the tickets." After checking the three conversations he has pinned to the top of his phone, I recited his schedule to him as calmly as if I were discussing an ordinary business meeting. Without even looking up, Ethan says, "Add one more thing on the 20th. It's Vivi's dog's third birthday." I freeze for a moment but eventually add it to his schedule. The 20th is supposed to be the day he finally keeps his promise to give me the wedding we've never had. He has already postponed it 99 times, all for the sake of those three women. When I fall silent, Ethan pulls a silk scarf from one of the mountains of gift bags piled beside him and hands it to me. "Be good, Sienna. I promise this is the last time I'll postpone it." The scarf is actually part of Jennifer's gift package. I'm the one who goes to the boutique and places the order for him. I don't make a scene. I simply accept the scarf, then pull out the contract I've already reviewed and hand it to him to sign. Ethan seems pleased by my reaction. "You're finally starting to act like a proper wife from a wealthy family. Everyone in our circle envies me for having a fabulous wife like you. If you'd come to your senses two years ago, we wouldn't have had to keep postponing the wedding." I say nothing. I just watch as he signs his name. What he doesn't know is that I've slipped a divorce agreement into the stack of documents. The wedding I've been waiting for all these years is never going to happen. Someone else has already promised me the wedding I never get to have.

The first time I have an affair, it's with my wife, Josephine Yates' best friend, Lydia Bennett. When Josephine catches us red-handed in bed, I'm in the middle of enjoying myself, my cheeks insanely flushed. Josephine gets into a huge fight with Lydia afterward. Then, she proceeds to drink her sorrows away that night before choosing to forgive me. After we've patched things up, we grow even more lovey-dovey than when we first got married. In fact, we're known as the golden couple who are envied by all. That is, when Josephine catches me cheating on her again on our tenth year anniversary. This time, I'm sleeping with Victoria Fairfax, the senior whom Josephine admires and respects the most. Josephine is so furious that she almost suffers from a seizure on the spot. Having gone batshit crazy, she decides to commit joint suicide with Victoria. I can only sigh before pulling her into my arms. "This is my last time doing this. I promise that you're the only one I want to be with for the rest of my life." Josephine is in so much pain and agony that she's on the brink of despair. Still, she believes my words and treats me even better now. She showers me with lavish gifts, be it luxury watches, unique custom-fitted apparel, or limited-edition racing cars. As long as she can afford it, she'll strive to give me the best. Some people call me a freeloading husband. That night, Josephine makes sure that those people have vanished off the face of the earth. When I tell Josephine that I don't want children, she gets her tubes tied immediately. Everyone praises Josephine for being devoted. They also claim that I've married the right woman. I just smile and nod. "I've used up all of my luck to meet Josephine in my life." But on Josephine's 34th birthday, she spies a paternity test report on my desk. That's when she suffers from a complete mental breakdown. The child is mine, and yet she's never given birth before.

My CEO girlfriend promised to marry me if only I handed over my billion-dollar-worth project to her first love. I agreed without hesitation. Yet on the day we were supposed to make things official, she never showed up. I called her 99 times, but she didn't pick up once. Just when I was about to give up, I saw a post from her first love on social media, featuring a picture of them holding their newly issued marriage license. [From school uniforms to wedding vows. A love that never changes.] I quietly liked the post without making a scene. Moments later, my long-lost girlfriend finally called back. "Cyrus got into a car accident trying to save me, and he lost his memory. The doctors say he needs emotional stimulation to recover. Don't worry, though. Once he gets better, we'll get married. You're the one I love most." What she didn't know was that there would be no future for us. The moment she stood me up at City Hall, the system I'd bound myself to declared my mission a failure. I had seven days left. After that, I would be completely erased from existence.

Intimate photos of Sienna Taylor topped the city's trending searches again. Out of habit, I take screenshots of them and send her a link to a luxury apartment overlooking the river that I've been eyeing. "Buy two of these. One for me, and one for our kid." She replies almost immediately with a simple "Okay" and a screenshot of a massive bank transfer. She never hesitates to throw money at a problem. After ten years of marriage, I've finally stopped keeping tabs on my wife's affairs. These days, I only keep tabs on my bank balance. But this time, Sienna is serious about a young man named Gavin Reed. When I find out they've been caught kissing by the harbour, I ask for a million dollars. When she holds a press conference and calls him her best friend, I ask for another million. And when I hear that they're celebrating their move into a new home together, I ask for yet another million. Her affair with Gavin has become the talk of the city, and she's so caught up in it that she's forgotten all about the man she once had to woo with 100 love letters before he'd agree to marry her. I don't cry or make a scene. Every time she hurts me for his sake, I just burn one of those letters. When the 100th and final letter turns to ash, I'll leave her for good.

I never thought I'd end up severely injured and lose my baby on my wedding day. That day, I walked toward my husband full of excitement, only to watch him rush right past me and straight into the arms of his secretary. Confused, I turned around and saw someone in a wedding dress lying on the ground, blood pooling beneath her. It was his secretary, Quinn Fable. Steve York, my soon-to-be husband, panicked and scooped her up, but Quinn stared at me with tearful eyes, crying, “Summer, I ate the candy you gave me… Why would you want to hurt my baby? Please, Steve, save our child… please…” Steve was beside himself with rage. Without a second thought, he kicked me hard in the stomach. I collapsed into the champagne tower, shards of glass embedding into my skin. Blood poured from between my legs. Yet, they still clung to each other, crying bitterly as if I didn't exist. When the ambulance arrived, they didn't even hesitate to push me aside to save her first. “Forget about her!” Steve shouted. “Save Quinn! She's lost so much blood. She must be in terrible pain! As for Summer, that vicious witch… she deserves to die!” Due to the delay, I suffered a ruptured uterus and missed the window for proper treatment. And as if that wasn't enough, Steve personally announced that our marriage was null and void. He marched straight to the clerk's office with Quinn and made it official. On my ICU bed, I received a text from him. “Pack your things and get out. Quinn wants you out of her sight.”

I've gone on a business trip. It's 3:00 am when my best friend suddenly calls me. He asks me why I didn't tell him that I already have a baby, seeing as we haven't met for a year. That question takes me by surprise. Josephine Bennett and I have been married for many years, but we've been using contraception all this time. Since when do we have a baby together? My best friend then sends me a screenshot of Josephine's social media feed. The caption shows, "This marks our 100th day together, my darling baby! I love you so much!" My heart goes tense when I see the screenshot. Immediately, I call Josephine to ask her what's going on. Her reaction is very cool and collected, though. "That's a relative's baby. I found the baby super adorable, so I decided to share the post. I didn't think I'd end up sharing the caption too." I just smile when I hear Josephine's answer. Later on, I call my older brother, Leonard Sterling. "Cut the funding for Josephine's research project. Turns out she's been cheating on me."

The first time I found a necklace in my fiancé’s car, his mother called me to explain. “Wylie, you’ve got the wrong idea. Rowan didn’t do anything. I accidentally left my necklace there.” The second time, I found two movie ticket stubs. My best friend, Sandy, tagged me in our shared group chat. [Wylie, don’t overthink it. I asked Rowan to help me buy those tickets.] Then came the third time, then the fourth time. Every time, someone always stepped forward to explain things on his behalf. That was, until the ninth time. I pulled a lipstick tube from the crack between the car seats and held it up in front of him. “Whose lipstick is this?” Rowan’s hand trembled almost imperceptibly on the steering wheel before he calmly dialed a number. “There’s a lipstick in my car. Which one of you left it behind?” My younger brother and Sandy answered the call. “Rowan? So that’s where I left it! No wonder Sandy’s been looking everywhere for it. But seriously, Wylie, why are you getting suspicious again? Didn’t everyone tell you at the last gathering? If you keep making a fuss like this, maybe the two of you shouldn’t get married at all.” Sandy chimed in, “Exactly! Wylie, Rowan treats you so well. Don’t you know that? You’ve really been taking things too far lately.” After hanging up, Rowan looked at me with an innocent expression. ‘Well? Can you stop doubting me now? “This is already the ninth time, Wylie. If you pull something like this again, then maybe we should reconsider the wedding—” I smiled and cut him off. “In that case, let’s not get married. We’ll just call it off.” What Rowan did not know was that the lipstick did not belong to his mistress, or my best friend. I had bought it myself and deliberately left it in his car. It was to expose the lies everyone had been telling to cover up his affair.

[Wanna do it?] I accidentally sent the message meant for my bestie to her brother, Gerald Cooper. Ten minutes later, I received his reply. [In the Maybach downstairs. Come down.] To my surprise, her brother was very well endowed too. That night, things got heated and we almost lost control. When we sobered up, he promised me that he would bear responsibility for his actions. He treated me well and doted on me, giving me anything I asked for. However, there was only one rule: I must never admit in public that I was his girlfriend. Five years later, he brought another woman home. With his arm wrapped around the woman, he told me that she was his girlfriend. I confronted him, asking, "If she's your girlfriend, then what would that make me? I waited five long years for you!" He chuckled indifferently and said something that chilled me to my bone. "Wait for me? Did I tell you to wait? Nyssa Bennett, don't ever fall in love with someone so desperately. It's terrifying." So it turned out that my love for him was nothing but trouble. From then on, I tried to live without him, let go of my feelings, and finally left him. But one week later, when I was exchanging my vows with another man, Gerald was standing there in the aisle, looking up at me with reddened eyes.