Cerita Pendek & Novel Plot Twists Cheating

To help my wife, Mia Lowell, through labor, I blew a fortune on the latest paternity-linked pain transfer device. Right before she went into the delivery room, Mia grabbed my hand. Tears streamed down her face. "Honey, if it gets too painful, turn it off. I can't stand watching you suffer." A nurse gave me one last reminder. "Sir, the device automatically transfers the pain to the baby's biological father through DNA matching. Please be prepared." The device switched on. I felt nothing. Not a twinge. Just as I started wondering if I'd gotten scammed, a scream ripped through the hallway. Ryan Duffy. My best friend dropped to the floor, clutching his stomach. "Aaaagh!" A second later, my boss Andy Drake, who'd stopped by with a fruit basket, staggered out of the elevator with both hands between his legs. Then came Luke Foley, a yoga coach seeing a doctor across the hall. He was flat-out rolling on the floor, howling. Inside the delivery room, Mia's weak voice drifted out. "Honey, thank you for taking all this pain for me!" I looked at the three guys writhing in agony. Then I quietly turned the device all the way up. Max load. Holding my breath, I shouted toward the delivery room. "I-I'm fine. I can still... take it."

The mountain has gotten sealed due to the heavy blizzard. As the only driver who has cleared the winding mountain road with 72 bends repeatedly without a casualty under my belt, I've received a ten-million-dollar rescue order to rescue someone at the end of the treacherous road. Ten years ago, I had been there once. Back then, my daughter, Hannah Reed, and her classmates were met with a storm turbulence when they went parachuting. Left without a choice, they activated the emergency landing protocols. But Hannah, my darling daughter whom I had doted on and loved for 17 years, ended up dying there due to the search and rescue team not arriving in time. Later on, I found out that my wife, Grace Ellwood, completely disregarded Hannah's safety. Instead, she chose to dump a million dollars into rerouting the entire search and rescue team to another route, where they ended up rescuing Grace's first love, Elias Quinn's daughter, Kiara Quinn. The thing was, Kiara had merely twisted her ankle from climbing the mountain that day. After Hannah's death, I give up on my prestigious career as a professor and retreat all the way to this place willingly as a low-income driver. Since then, I keep driving down the road of death over and over again, with my life hanging on the balance. I take the time to remember every single bend of the road. For the next ten years, no one else dies on this mountain. Today, my best friend, Julian Hayes, issues me the ten-million-dollar rescue request. Apparently, I am to set off immediately.

During the New Year's Eve dinner, my pineapple juice was secretly swapped for alcohol. But I had taken cephalosporin earlier on. The doctors used a lot of effort to save me, but my wife, Jennifer Robinson, shielded the person who was responsible behind her. "This matter ends here. Be generous and forgive him. He didn't do it on purpose." I didn't plan on letting this man off so easily. He had an ambiguous relationship with my wife. But Jennifer interrupted me with a frown. "That's enough! He's only a fresh graduate. What's the point of making a fuss? Do you have to ruin the rest of his life to feel satisfied?" I looked at how my wife was protecting him and my heart sank. "Then you two can spend the rest of your lives together."

At the company's annual event, an oddly shaped necklace tumbled out of my wife's purse. It was engraved with her friend's initials, L.L. To protect his privacy, Camille Sinclair announced our secret seven-year marriage right there in front of everyone. She pulled me up on stage and gave the cameras a shy little smile. "Those letters are my husband's initials, Liam Locke. It's got nothing to do with anyone else." After the show ended, I let go of her hand and quietly begged, "I did what you wanted. Now can I get my mom's medication for this month?" That was when her best friend, Logan Lane, showed up carrying a box stuffed full of erectile dysfunction pills. He made sure the whole room heard him as he said, "Hey, bro, before you worry about your mother's illness, maybe worry about getting it up first. Camille's always complaining to me that you can't get the job done. She can't keep using toys to get by, can she?" The spotlight swung onto me, and thousands of people burst out laughing. By the next afternoon, I was the laughingstock of the entire industry. I was known as the husband who couldn't perform. Camille savored the sight of me falling apart. "Honey, you should learn some gratitude. Why don't you thank Logan?" I walked out under everyone's mocking stares. When I got back to the hospital, I found my dying mother hanging from the ceiling fan. Clutched in her hand was a suicide note, stained with blood. [Don't waste money treating me anymore. Don't beg her for anything ever again. Don't let her make you suffer another day.]

After my best friend, Lynn Barrett, loses her memory, she forgets all about me. But somehow, she still remembers my boyfriend, Shane Wesley. Therefore, she naturally begins relying on him. She has Shane cook for her, wash her hair, and even carry her around Jinton. But he has never done any of those things for me. When I am starving and my blood sugar drops, he says, "Aurelia, I can't cook, but I ordered takeout for you. Just wait a little longer." When I cut my hand and can't get it wet, he says, "Aurelia, I'm a bit of a germaphobe, so I can't wash your hair. There's a hair salon downstairs. Go there yourself." When I break my leg, he says, "Aurelia, I injured my back before. I can't carry you. Wait here while I get you a wheelchair." But as I watch him make exception after exception for Lynn, I finally can't take it anymore. I say, "Shane, you seem to treat me differently from how you treat Lynn." Yet, Shane never stops peeling an apple for Lynn. "Of course. Lynn has lost her memory and can't do without me. She also refuses to let you get close to her. So, I have no choice but to look after her for you." Look after her for me, he said? Is that why he didn't pull away when Lynn kissed him yesterday? At this moment, I don't want to stay in Jinton with Shane anymore. I buy a ticket back to my hometown for three days later. I also message my mother. "Mom, I'll go on the blind date you mentioned before."

The day before my wedding, I was insulted by two men. In my defense, I ended up killing one and injuring the other. My fiancé at the time, Alexander, who was supposed to protect me, abandoned me during the trial. I was sentenced to two years in jail. When I was finally released two years later, I discovered that my ex-fiancé had already married my best friend, Isabella. And Isabella? She didn’t just ‘steal’ my fiancé—she took the doctor position that was supposed to be mine too. I had nowhere to go, and in my most desperate moment, Eric Graves appeared at my door. As the most powerful mafia leader in NYC, Eric used his influence to ensure no one would speak ill of my past. He also proposed to me, confessing that he'd always had feelings for me and wanted to marry me. I believed he was my knight in shining armor, my true love. The first four years of our marriage were perfect—at least, that’s what I thought, until the day I overheard a conversation between my husband, Eric, and his right-hand man, Adam. “Boss, you were so clever to let those scums harass Evelyn. If it weren't for that, Miss Isabella would never have had a chance with Alexander.” Eric’s teasing voice followed, “I just wanted to scare her for a bit. Never thought she’d kill one of them and end up behind bars.” Adam sounded confused. “But Miss Isabella is already married now. Why would you still keep that whore around after she got out of prison?” “Because,” Eric paused, “I have to make sure she doesn’t run back to Alexander or disturb Isabella.” The laughter that followed shattered my heart. All those memories of Eric saving me from humiliation? They were all a lie. He was the one who made my life fall apart, just to make sure Isabella could live happily ever after. Wiping away the lingering tears, I dialed Eric’s biggest rival in NYC, Caleb Nightshade. "Do you still want to wipe Eric out of New York?”

On New Year's Eve, my husband, Max Davis, took me to a private dinner hosted by a big industry player. We had barely made our way around the room when a strange woman suddenly shoved me into the pool. When I insisted on checking the surveillance footage and calling the police, Max firmly held me back. He warned me to "remember my place" and not embarrass him in front of everyone. In the brief time I changed into another gown, I returned to find that same woman perched on my husband's lap, her red lipstick leaving traces on his collar. "Max, you're right! That nasty scar on her stomach really does look like a centipede. It's so hideous!" She giggled with mock innocence, adding, "It's been so fun messing with your wife. Next time, can I slap her when no one's looking?" Meanwhile, Max gazed at her like she was the only woman in the world, gently tracing his finger over her nose. "Of course, you can," he replied, eyes still locked on hers. "I'll even tie her hands behind her back for you."

I had seven days left to live. My father was the God of War. My mother was the Goddess of the Harvest. I was born with divine power running through my veins, and like all gods, I should have lived forever. But I'd been poisoned by Godsbane, a plant so deadly that even the Healer had no cure. I forced myself back to the temple through the pain, one step at a time. That was when my husband Caelum, the King of the Gods, came home. His expression was grave. "Lyra," he said, "your sister Selene has collapsed. Her divine blood is completely spent. The Healer says she won't survive the month. The only way to save her is for someone who shares her bloodline to give her half their divine blood." "You're twins. Your blood is perfectly matched." He paused. "Would you reconsider donating half of yours?" "I know it's a lot to ask." He hesitated, then reached into his robe and placed a divine decree on the table before me. It called for the revocation of my title as Queen. "But if you won't save Selene, I'll have to honor her last wish. She says she wants to marry me before she dies." I looked at the decree for a long moment. "Don't worry," he said, his voice softening as he took my hand. "Once this is over, I'll burn it myself and marry you again as my Queen. Lyra, you know you're the only one for me." I looked at him trying so carefully not to push too hard, and something hollow settled in my chest. He wasn't the only one. Even my parents, when I'd refused before, had turned cold and driven me from our home: "If you'd rather watch your sister die than help her, then get out. Don't ever come back." If that was what they all wanted, fine. I had seven days left anyway. "All right," I said. "I'll give her the blood." My father and mother were pleased. They said I'd finally come to my senses. I finally became the Queen they'd always wanted me to be. A good daughter. But when I died, why did they all cry?

My CEO husband told me he had a last-minute job to handle. He said that because of it, he couldn't accompany me to retrieve the body. Then I went online and saw a photo my husband's secretary had posted as a birthday status update. [Thanks for the red velvet cake, Mr. Mitchell! Happy birthday to me!] I smiled and left a comment. [Happy birthday.] That single comment sparked a frenzy among my colleagues. They immediately began placing bets on how big of a scene I would make. Then he called. "Lucy is just celebrating her birthday, Brianna! Why do you have to ruin it by showing up in the comments?! Don't you know how sensitive she is? How is she supposed to feel comfortable at work now?! "She's only been here for two years. She doesn't even have any friends! What's wrong with me looking out for an employee and keeping her company on her birthday? A lucky girl who grew up in a wealthy family like you wouldn't understand! "If you want to talk about this, fine. Wait until I get back. But delete that comment right now! We can always wait another few days before retrieving his body. Where is your father going to go anyway? He's already dead!" I clenched my fist and replied, "That won't be necessary." By the time he returned, we would already be legally divorced.

In the seventh year of being a caretaker for my comatose wife, Gwen Anderson, I got a well-paid job request. [Accompany my wife for her pregnancy check. I’m paying ten thousand dollars for a half-day task.] When I arrived at the hospital, I saw Gwen, who was supposedly in a coma, smiling as she talked on the phone. “It’s just a check-up. It’s not my first time being pregnant anyway. Why do you have to hire someone to accompany me? “That’s right. I bought the mansion located in the south of the city. It’s only a few hundred million dollars. Just treat it as your birthday gift for this year! “Why are you bringing Zac up? If he didn’t fake his illness on the day you came back to the country, we wouldn’t have wasted a month! “I pretended to be in a coma for seven years so he would pay off my debt. That is the punishment he deserves.” I was stunned. To pay off the debt, I sold my assets, my company, and even my family heirloom. Just as I was about to step forward, Gwen said cruelly, “Alright, I’ll listen to you. I’m tired of pretending for so many years anyway.” The next second, my phone buzzed. It was a text. [Zac, I’ve woken up.]

After Princess Winona Green abandons me at the border's military camp for five years, she finally remembers my existence and decides to bring me home. When a dozen or so carriages that are laden with wedding gifts arrive at the military camp, Winona's expression is filled with unbridled smugness. "I did tell you that once I gave birth to Shane's child, I'd marry you, Gideon. See? I didn't lie to you at all. Today, I've personally come to the border just to pick you up." Then, Winona approaches me haughtily. "Shane might be a musician, but I've already sired the oldest child with him. It's only reasonable for him to be made an equal consort, just like you, the son of an official." I merely frown without saying anything. All I do is look at Winona. She lets out a sigh before walking toward me again. "I know that you've been hopelessly waiting for me for the past five years, Gideon. That's why I traveled all the way to this barren wasteland just to prove my sincerity to you. In half a month, we shall get married." The sight of Winona immersed in her own fantasy of fake devotion makes me chuckle coldly. "Seize them!" How dare Winona make me, the general of the border, fight with a mere musician over her affections! Does she really think that my blade is just a decoration?

After eight years and countless pregnancy tests, I was finally pregnant. Zachary loved me to his core. With or without a child, his devotion never wavered—if anything, it only grew stronger. He was over the moon, practically bouncing off the walls, promising me the world and everything in it. His parents were relieved that the Williams family legacy would finally have an heir. They completely changed their tune, suddenly treating me like I was made of gold. But I had no plans to keep this baby.

For ten years, Isaac was my fated mate. My Alpha. My future. Then, on the eve of his Alpha Ceremony, he chose another she-wolf to be his Luna, Chloe. His reason? She was wild and free...everything I used to be. "We are FATED MATES!" I screamed, my hand flying to the mark on my neck. "How can you defy the Moon Goddess? How can you just throw me away?" My wolf howled through our bond, trying to make him feel my pain. The backlash should have crippled him. But he didn't even flinch. It wasn't a real mark. Just a lie, painted on with magic. A trick to chain me to his side. My legs gave out. I hit the floor, a raw sob tearing from my throat. When the tears dried, the grief turned to ice. I stormed the Elders' Council and demanded they sever the bond. Then, I did the unthinkable. I chose his cursed uncle, Vincent. Isaac laughed. He thought it was a pathetic game to make him jealous. He had no idea. The Elders had already named his uncle the new Alpha. He didn't understand his mistake until he saw me crowned Luna on Vincent's arm. Only then did he come crawling back, begging for a forgiveness I would never give.

My husband had never been interested in sex. Whenever we did sleep together, he always watched the clock. Tonight, halfway through, the custom ringtone he had set for his secretary went off. Her tearful voice came through the phone. "Mr. Doyle, a pipe burst in my apartment. There's water everywhere, and I'm scared..." Without a second thought, Vince Doyle pulled away and started getting dressed. Biting my lip, I reached out and grabbed his arm, hating how desperate I sounded. "It's late, and we haven't even finished…" "Lauren doesn't have anyone else to call. I'm her boss. I can't just leave her to deal with this alone." He didn't even look at me. He calmly pulled his arm free and buttoned his shirt. "I've done what I was supposed to do tonight. I'll make up to you next time." My breath caught. So sleeping with me was nothing more than another obligation he had to check off his list. Not long after he left, Lauren Barrett sent me a text. In the photo, she was curled up against Vince's shoulder. [I'm so sorry. I was just really scared. I'll make sure Vince finishes what he started next time. Looks like you'll have to pull out your little toy and finish the job yourself tonight.] I read the message without replying. Then I got up, took a shower, stripped the bed, and put the sheets in the wash. After changing into a clean pair of pajamas, I finally made up my mind. I was done with Vince.

On the night before we're supposed to register our marriage, our friends suggested playing a mystery box game. Each of the men puts a gift into a box, and the boxes are randomly handed out to the women. They all say this is the fairest way to play this game. When I open mine, there's only a single card inside that reads, "Thank you for participating." The room falls silent for a moment. Then, someone can't help snickering. My fiance, Hunter Sinclair, ruffles my hair. "Your luck is still as bad as ever." My childhood friend, Gabriel Unwin, lowers his voice and says, "Smile. Don't make people think you can't take a joke." At the same round, Tiffany West opens her box and finds the grand prize inside. The box contains a pink diamond necklace personally chosen by Hunter and a voucher for the island getaway I've talked about for three years. There is also a handwritten card from Gabriel. It says, "We'll always be here to protect you." I smile along with everyone else and slip my card back into the empty box. A raffle is all about luck, after all. Later, as I head to the restroom, I overhear the host checking the prize list in the lounge. He says, "Mr. Sinclair, everything was handed out correctly, right? The grand prize went to Ms. West, and the consolation prize went to Ms. Lawson." Hunter hums in confirmation. Gabriel laughs and adds, "That's right. She'll find a way to make herself feel better." Standing outside the door, I suddenly remember my 18th birthday. I waited in the rain for the midnight fireworks celebrating my coming of age. But Hunter and Gabriel held the only umbrella over Tiffany instead. Looking back at me, they said, "Natalie, your house is closer. Just run a couple of steps, and you're safe from the rain." That night, I went home soaked to the bone. I even made excuses for them, telling myself that it was just my bad luck. But tonight, I finally understand. The umbrella was never meant for me in the first place. So this time, I tear up that card and decide not to go through with our marriage registration. I'm done playing the game of luck they've rigged from the very beginning.

My son, Yale Foster, had what they called school-pickup anxiety. Every afternoon before dismissal, he needed to know I was home waiting for him. So when he called from his smartwatch yet again to tell me not to come get him, Yates Foster looked genuinely troubled. "Winnie, don't come to the school. "If Yale sees you at the gate, he will start panicking that you're going to leave him. Once he starts crying, no one can calm him down." I stood there with my car keys in my hand, unsure what I was supposed to do. Yates sighed. "Mom's already gone to pick him up. Just stay home and wait for him." That was how three years passed with me almost never picking up my own son from school. Helen Foster handled pickup in my place and went with him on the school's family field trips. Whenever I wanted to go myself, someone always had a reason why I shouldn't. "The entrance gets so crowded. You'll only make him more anxious." "His teacher says Yale's finally getting used to the routine. We shouldn't keep changing who picks him up." "Winnie, you already work so hard. Leave little things like pickup to us." I believed them. Until today, when I happened to see a group chat on Helen's phone. Buried in the group's photo album was a password-protected folder: [Yale's Growing Up] I opened it and found everything I'd missed: school performances, parent-teacher conferences, family field days, graduation photos. Three hundred twenty-seven pictures. In every one of them, Yates, Yara Xavier, and Yale stood together. I wasn't in a single shot. In one photo, Yara even had a name tag pinned to her chest that read: [Yale Foster's Mom] The last file was a video. Yale was holding up an award when he asked, "Dad, why isn't Mom here yet?" Yates smiled and corrected him. "Mommy Yara is already here, isn't she?" Everyone behind the camera burst out laughing. And just like that, I understood. For the past three years, while they kept finding reasons to shut me out, they'd been letting another woman take my place throughout Yale's entire childhood.

On the day Shane Jackson and I registered our marriage, his infatuated secretary pushed me off a building. I fractured two ribs, lost my baby instantly, and slipped into a coma. Shane stayed by my side and told everyone I was his only wife, never leaving my bedside. But when no one was watching, he pressed that secretary against the hospital bed and murmured, "If it weren't for you, Lily and I would already have a three-year-old child. You owe us a baby. This is what you must repay her." Joanna Rogers trembled in his arms, eyes full of tears. "I'm sorry, Mr. Jackson. I loved you too much. I'll accept whatever punishment you give me." A moment later, I heard their heavy breathing. My eyes, which had been shut for three years, suddenly opened. Tears rolled down my cheeks.

My husband, Samuel Crawford, made an excuse about attending a company business meeting and refused to participate in our daughter's school activity. He also suggested that we should not participate either. Seeing my daughter's disappointment, I decided to take her myself. As soon as we entered the school, I spotted Samuel sitting on the stage with his ex-girlfriend, Monica Sterling, and her son. They looked intimate, appearing every bit like a perfect family of three. Samuel spoke confidently into the microphone about achieving family harmony and career success. Throughout his speech, he occasionally exchanged glances and smiles with Monica. The audience applauded enthusiastically. Samuel's expression grew increasingly smug, and even the little boy beside him wore an arrogant look. Soon the Q&A session came. I then grabbed the microphone and asked, "Mr. Crawford, when did you have a son? Does your wife know about this?"

For eight years, Daniel Foster throws me a wedding every year, but never makes our marriage legal. He claims he's afraid of marriage, terrified that we'll end up like his parents. So instead of pressuring him, I give him eight whole years to work through his fears and prepare himself for the commitment. At our eighth wedding, I notice that Daniel is wearing the wrong suit. At first glance, it looks exactly like the suit we've chosen for the ceremony. The only difference is the name embroidered on the collar. It isn't mine. It belongs to my best friend, Avery Morgan. I'm about to confront Daniel and demand an explanation when my older sister, Vivian Cooper, grabs my arm and stops me. "Elle, it's been eight years. What good will confronting him do now? It's better to pretend you haven't noticed." I stare at her in disbelief. "Viv, are you saying you've known all along?" Vivian stiffens slightly before glancing at the family members and friends gathered around us. "It's not just me. Everyone knows." I stand frozen, unable to say a word. It takes me a long moment to find my voice again. "Then why? Why has Daniel kept holding wedding ceremonies with me for the past eight years?" Vivian's voice softens, and sympathy fills her eyes as she explains, "Having a wedding every year was Avery's idea. Apart from the wedding she and Daniel had when they legally married, every wedding they've had since has been matched by one for you." So the marriage I've spent eight years waiting for has already been given to someone else, and I'm the last person to find out.

To get back at me for taking one extra piece of lettuce at dinner, Simon Quinn drugged me right after my surgery and left me with a stomach perforation. My wife finally managed to book a specialist appointment for me, but Simon suddenly claimed his own stomach hurt so badly he couldn't stand it and stole my slot. I begged my wife to take me to the hospital first. She told me to endure it. Then, when I called an ambulance myself, she punished me by having someone hang me upside down in the bedroom. "If we hadn't had to eat those awful health meals with you, why would Simon's stomach hurt? "I heard hanging upside down helps stomach pain. After a few minutes, you'll naturally feel better." The pain made my body convulse. I cried and begged her to send me to the hospital. Instead, she kicked me hard in the abdomen. "Stop acting. Don't think I don't know you're just jealous of Simon! "Someone as kind as Simon would never drug you. If anything, you're the one who might've slipped something into the food to make his stomach hurt. Once the results come out, I won't let you off!" I grabbed her pant leg in agony. "I'm not lying. He told me himself he drugged me. Please, for the sake of our eight years together, give the specialist appointment back to me." She stepped on my hand in disgust. "You just had surgery. How could anything happen to you? Stop trying to drive a wedge between us. If you weren't such good househusband material, I would've divorced you long ago." Later, after she saw that Simon was perfectly fine, she finally remembered me. But the housekeeper was trembling all over. "Mr. Bowman died a long time ago..."