Cerita Pendek & Novel Melodramatic Family Emotions

I fell in love with a man I should never have touched—my brother-in-law, Lucas Zahn. The first time he came to our home with my sister, Quincy, they looked like the perfect couple. He smiled at me, held out a peace talisman bracelet, and said it would keep me safe. I wore it like it was the most precious thing in the world. When the old injury in my ankle flared up, he would scoop me into his arms and rush me to the hospital without a second thought. When thugs tried to harass me, he made them scatter with a single look, then spoke to me in a voice so gentle it made my heart tremble. I told myself I understood—that everything he did was only because I was Quincy’s younger sister. Even so, I clung to those rare moments when I could be near him. Until the night Lucas was drugged by an enemy, his life teetering on the edge. If no one acted, he would die. So, I acted. On that reckless, desperate night, my sister walked in. The sight struck her like a lightning bolt, and she collapsed, her weak heart seizing on the spot. What came next was madness. In a frenzy of rage and panic, Lucas tied me to an operating table. His hands—those hands I once longed to hold—cut open my chest and tore my heart out for her. “When the avalanche hit, Quincy nearly died saving me. I swore I’d treat her well for the rest of my life. That means loving her family, too. I never thought you’d be so shameless. “This is what you owe her!” He never knew that I was the one who saved him in that avalanche. So, I died in agony, my love carved out of me—literally. When my eyes opened again, I found myself back on the night he was drunk.

On the first day of school, I arrive alone to register, clutching my admission letter. But the security guard at the entrance chases me away. I angrily call my best friend, but he simply laughs on the phone. "Wyatt, you literally have glasses, and you can't tell? The admission letter you took was just a fake I made. The real one is still at your house." I immediately buy a ticket home and rush back, sweating anxiously as I search everywhere for it. But after looking for ages, I still can't find it. Then, my phone rings, and I hear Shane's carefree voice. "Wyatt, stop looking. I had Wendy bring your admission letter to you. She's in Linton." I immediately take the high-speed train to Linton. But just as I leave the station, I get a video call from Shane. "You idiot, you actually went looking for Wendy? I was just messing with you. Actually, the security guard didn't kick you out because your admission letter was fake. It was because I told them you were carrying explosives." As he speaks, he turns the camera toward Wendy Zahn, my childhood friend, who is fanning him. And behind her is my younger sister, who is supposed to be on vacation overseas. "Wyatt, why the long face? Can't you take a joke?" she says with a laugh. I stand there, completely stunned. So, my sister has used her vacation as an excuse just to accompany Shane to school. As I look at the smiling faces on the screen, I suddenly feel exhausted. They have played this game at my expense for 18 years. It's time to end it.

Through ten lifetimes, I've died miserably because people kept forgetting I existed. So in this life, I decide not to struggle anymore and just wait for death. When I was kidnapped at five years old, I lay down on the spot and held my breath, covering myself with white powder. The kidnappers thought they had killed me and were so frightened that they surrendered on the spot. When the police found me, I was lying on a cart near the morgue entrance. I waved to the morgue staff and said, "Could you push a little faster? I've got another life to get to." At seventeen, I'm found by my biological parents. On the way back to my wealthy family, I refuse to sit in the backseat of the car and instead get into the trunk. My mother, Sally Jensen, looks through the gap beneath the open trunk lid, crying her heart out. "This child must have suffered a lot. How can he just lie in that kind of place?" I close my eyes and say in a flat voice, "It doesn't matter. This life is going to end anyway. I like this narrow place. It's just the right place to wait for death." My dad, Edward Cortez, slams the steering wheel and exclaims, "Nonsense, Kenneth Cortez! Now that you've returned to the Cortez household. Whatever happens, we'll protect you! So, how can you possibly die?" However, as soon as I get home and go up to the second floor, the boy who took my place, Kevin Cortez, fakes losing his balance just so he can seize the chance to push me down the stairs.

I sacrificed my legs to marry my cousin’s boyfriend, but they replaced me with a different bride on the wedding day!

From the time I was ten until I turned eighteen, my parents made me write 299 IOUs. Every time I needed money, I had to borrow it and pay it back as an adult. Then I got into a car accident. I needed money for surgery but was still short by 3,000. With no other options, I went to my parents for help. But they just gave me cold smiles. “Clara, you’re eighteen now. We have no obligation to give you money anymore. If you need it, write another IOU.” While holding back tears, I wrote my 300th IOU. After my surgery, I saw my adopted sister’s social media post. In the pictures, she was celebrating her 18th birthday on a cruise. She was the center of attention, like a princess. My parents had given her a luxury apartment in the city and a Maserati as birthday gifts. Even my childhood friend was looking at her with love in his eyes. She said they were the ones she loved and thanked them for giving her the best of everything. I looked down at the crumpled IOU in my hand and suddenly laughed. Once I paid off my debt, I would no longer need such a family.

She coveted everything about me. My possessions, my experiences, and even my men. So one night, my mother pushed me into an older man's bedroom. The next day, she asked with a smug smile, "Nina, how was your night with the older guy?" I rubbed my sore waist, recalling his broad shoulders, long legs, and trim waist from the night before. I smiled as I answered her. "That fiancé of mine is all yours now. Just remember—I’ll be your Aunt-in-law in the future.”

Two in the morning. I found over a hundred transfer records on my husband Derek's phone. Every single one was for five, ten, or fifteen dollars. I opened the recipient's Instagram profile and found a feed full of pink hair, smoky eye makeup, and skin-tight low-rise jeans. Underneath was a caption that stung: "Thanks for the hot dogs, Pops. Spoiled again today." And the first person to like the post was my own daughter, Crystal, a well-behaved high school senior.

"I'm scheduling the C-section for tomorrow. The doctor will extract her bone marrow during the procedure." Those were the words that shattered Selena's world. Her husband, Ellis Winston, the most ruthless Mafia Don in New York, was going to force her to deliver their baby at twenty-seven weeks. To him, her pregnant body was just a blood farm to cure Jennifer, the manipulative half-sister who supposedly saved his life. So, Selena ran. She left behind a pool of blood, a crushed ultrasound photo, and a destroyed wedding ring. The world thought she was dead. Six years later, Ellis is a walking corpse. He rules the global underworld, but he is tormented by the ghost of the wife he pushed to the grave. During his company's grand anniversary banquet, the heavy ballroom doors burst open. Selena is back. But she isn't the weak, obedient housewife in a cheap housewife anymore. She is the untouchable heiress of the Merrick billionaire empire. She strides down the red carpet, a signed divorce agreement in hand, ready to crush the man who ruined her. Ellis refuses to let her go. He is willing to go to war with Wall Street to drag her back. But what will the arrogant Don do when he comes face-to-face with a genius six-year-old boy who looks exactly like him? He will pay any price to win her back. Even if it costs him his empire, his organs, and his life.

My father, Harlan Lowe, suffers from severe face blindness. To him, every woman in the world looks the same. 40 years ago, he was drugged by a business rival and spent one fateful night with the woman who would later become my mother. Unable to recognize her afterward, he mistakenly marries Mildred Roberts, the opportunistic woman who steals her place and claims the credit that is never hers. In time, Harlan and Mildred become one of the city's most celebrated power couples, admired by everyone. Meanwhile, my mother is left to bear the consequences alone. Pregnant and unmarried, she is branded a promiscuous woman, shunned by society, and never marries. Years of humiliation and loneliness eventually drive her into depression and lead her to take her own life. 40 years later, I am now a man who has built a life through brilliance and relentless determination. I end up marrying Bella Harrison, the beloved daughter of the wealthiest dynasty in the country. We share a loving marriage and a happy family. The peace ends the day my daughter, Josie Gardner, brings her boyfriend home. Seated at the head of the family table, I study the young man. Arrogant, confident, and unmistakably spoiled, he carries himself like someone who has never known hardship. I know immediately that he is Simon Lowe, the grandson of Harlan and Mildred. Looking at Simon's face, which bears an uncanny resemblance to Harlan's, I ignore the gift he offers me. "You want to marry my daughter? In your wildest dreams."

My sister and I got into a car crash. My heart was ruptured, and I needed immediate surgery if I were to live. My mother, being the director of her hospital, sent all the doctors to my sister instead, all just to check on her. She barely got hurt. I pleaded and begged for my mother to save me, but impatience got the better of her. She roared, "This isn't the time to take any attention away from your sister! She almost had a bone fracture!" And I died. I remember where it was. It was a freezing operating theater.

My mother is a hospital director. To give my brother, an intern doctor, more hands-on experience, she assigns him as the lead surgeon for my brain tumor operation. I beg her to let someone else do it and tell her it's my only chance at survival. But she slaps me hard across the face and screams, "How did I raise such a selfish, ungrateful child? Your brother has just started his internship—can't you help him improve his skills? Is that too much to ask?" Later, the surgery fails. I die on the operating table. And my mother seems to have aged decades overnight.

I was checking out at the grocery store when my payment was declined for insufficient funds. My paycheck, which had landed in my account that morning, was gone. I called Marcus Dean to ask him about it. That was when I noticed he'd texted me three minutes earlier. Marcus: [Hey, babe. Ryan's 4,000 dollars short on the down payment for his car. I went ahead and used the money in your account to cover it.] I stared at the message, frozen in place. After expenses, Marcus and I usually managed to save about 700 dollars a month between the two of us. But now, five years into our marriage, our savings account was back to zero. Again. During our first year of marriage, his brother Ryan started college. Marcus covered all four years of his tuition and wired his mother, Rachel Cole, another 7,000 dollars on top of that. The second year, he wanted to renovate his parents' house. The renovations cost 11,400 dollars. We didn't have enough saved, so I even had to borrow 1,400 dollars from my own parents. During the third and fourth years, Marcus always found some excuse to hand over whatever we managed to save each month, about 700 dollars, to his family. This past New Year's, we'd agreed that we were finally ready for a baby. He promised he'd start saving more. But now my paycheck, the one that had just come in, was gone. Five years of marriage, and he'd handed every dollar we'd saved to his brother. And there I was, stuck at the checkout counter over a 6.10-dollar grocery bill, unable to move forward or turn back. Then another text came in. Marcus: [Babe, Ryan's still short on the car money. Think you could ask one of your coworkers to lend you some?] I didn't answer. I went home and handed him a set of divorce papers. Marcus stared at me in shock. "Why?" I shrugged. "No reason. We're getting a divorce."

My mother kept a red notebook recording all of my sister's favourite things. She had a blue notebook for me too. When my mother was hospitalized, I took leaves from work to take care of her. My sister had never shown up. However, my mother recorded in the blue notebook, '15th March, I am not well and am hospitalized. Celine owed me 450 dollars for food allowance. I knew that was not a notebook about my favourite things, but a notebook of all of my expenses. Behind the closed doors, Mother said to Father, "Celine is an evil person. She always likes to compete with her sister. We must take a chance to steal all her money and leave with Belle. Later when we are old, we will ask her to take care of us. I think we should just ask her to pay us back all the money we spent on her that I have recorded in this notebook. I was devastated at that moment.

On the first day of summer break, my daughter, Mia Leighton, is scheduled to perform a solo at the closing ceremony of her youth arts camp. It's her final audition for a televised performance, but there's one requirement— both parents have to be present to sign off on her participation. Mia had practiced every single day for this opportunity, pushing her voice until her throat was nearly raw. My wife, Thea Sawyer, had promised her too. "I will definitely be there. I won't let anything get in the way of your dream." But on the day of the performance, Mia sings the entire song while staring at an empty seat in the front row. When the TV station's staff asks about the missing signature, I hold my daughter's hand and plead with them repeatedly to make an exception. But they refuse. They tell me that these are the rules, and they're not allowed to make an exception unless I can present them with divorce papers. After the performance, we run into Thea as she comes out of a class next door. Walking beside her is the son of Clark Judson, her first love. The boy, Ian Judson, is clutching a guitar. It was only an ordinary rehearsal, yet Thea stayed by his side the entire time. Thea averts her eyes awkwardly, stammering as she explains, "Darling, Ian is shy and doesn't dare to play unless someone stays with him. Mia will have other opportunities. Besides, she has you there to support her." Instead of running into Thea's arms, Mia just clutches her songbook tightly. Then, she looks up at me and asks, "Daddy, did Mommy not come because I'm too much trouble?" I scoop my daughter into my arms. The staff member's words about divorce suddenly echo in my head. If Thea wants to play mother to someone else, I won't stop her anymore.

My CEO mom has always believed that Dad and I are manipulative freeloaders trying to bleed her dry. Any expense over 50 dollars requires her approval. The day Dad is hit by a car, I ask her for 2,000 dollars to pay for his surgery. Instead, she calls me just to snap at me. "Did Nathan Sinclair put you up to this? Have you two really sunk so low just to squeeze money out of me?" With no other choice, I request that my scholarship be advanced. But when I try to pay the hospital, the money is gone. Mom calls again. "Who did you steal from? I never transferred any money. How could there be a deposit in your account? "I worked hard for my money—not so the two of you can leech off me! From now on, your allowance is cut in half!" The surgery never happens. Dad dies right in front of me. When I return home with his ashes, I see Ethan Carter's post of the 100-million-dollar mansion Mom bought for him and his son, with the caption, "Her love has belonged to me ever since we were young—and it still does." I leave a like. Then I comment, "You can have her future too."

It was my daughter's first day of kindergarten, but she was nowhere to be found. My wife's first love texted me. "Guess where your daughter is." This was already the fourth time Donald Shaw had played a cruel joke like this. On the day Claire Wilson and I went official, he told me she got into a car crash. I cried as I ran nearly two miles through the freezing night to reach her. When the truth came out, Donald hid behind Claire and laughed. "Just a prank. I only wanted to see how much you loved her." On the day of our wedding, he took Claire away and disappeared with her for twenty-four hours, leaving me alone to face the guests' mockery and her parents' anger. The next day, he came back holding her arm and said casually, "I just wanted to play a little game." When Tina was born, he came with a fake DNA test and said she was his. Only after I was overwhelmed with rage and ended up in the hospital did he finally reveal the real report. Every single time, my wife protected him like a heartbroken girl defending her first love. Then she would turn around and scold me. "He's just a bit childlike. Don't be so serious." And now, that bastard was using my daughter as the punchline of his latest joke. I was shivering with fury and I called my wife. But Claire only said impatiently, "He just wants to play hide and seek. Stop crying already." Then she hung up. My eyes stayed fixed on the screen. It showed my daughter's location. And right now, she was in the middle of a river.

To teach me to behave, my parents forged a paternity test and declared I was not their biological son. My sister ignored my pleas and had me committed to a psychiatric hospital. "You troublemaker, why don't you just die?" they sneered. Even the fiancée I loved most watched with icy eyes and used her connections to make sure I suffered inside. After five years, I finally knew how to keep my head down. So why did they suddenly demand I return to the arrogant heir I once was?

My ex-fiancé made me do a blood test the night before our wedding. The next day, he threw the genetic report on my face and dumped me over defective genes. The reason was that the Zimmer family only wanted perfect heirs, and he said that I was not worthy. He broke off the engagement, and instantly married the girl-next-door with perfect genes. Five years later, he reappeared in the hospital, clutching his ill son. He saw my daughter who had similar rashes, and he thought I had given birth to his daughter in secrecy. Little did he know that my daughter had nothing to do with him and only had a mild seafood allergy. I would not be defined by the so-called defective genes again, while me and my daughter live happily and healthily, it was their turn to be destroyed.

My sister gets into an accident and needs an emergency blood transfusion when I'm six months pregnant. After a round of tests, my blood is the only suitable one. I'm exhausted and too skinny after being tormented by morning sickness. I have to say no. However, my family forces me to do it. I have no strength to resist; I can only beg my husband for help. To my devastation, he stands by and watches me coldly. "It's fine for you to donate some blood since you're so healthy. Queenie isn't the same as you—she has a bright future ahead, so we can't let anything affect that." I pass out after the blood donation. The first thing I do when I wake up is make an appointment for an abortion.

My grandparents, Timothy Shaw and Dorothy Elmer, show up one day to ask for 30 thousand dollars. In response, my wife, Jade Quinn, shuts the door in my face. She refuses to discuss the topic of a loan or open the door for anyone. All she does is send me a text message that reads, "I earn a fixed salary. How could I possibly come up with 30 thousand dollars on the fly? Don't you have other colleagues and classmates? Just ask them for a loan." I mull over the message as my hand hovers over the study door's knob. Through a crack in the door, I can see her on a video call with a male student named Nicholas Dion. She says to him, "Nicky, I've transferred 200 thousand dollars to your bank account. It's not safe for a young man like you to live in a rented place off-campus. Consider the money a gift from me for you to use as a down payment." My hand freezes in midair, trembling slightly. Just then, the door is opened, and Jade sees me standing outside the door. She offers no explanation and shows no sign of guilt. She simply explains unhurriedly, "I married you and not your entire family, so I'm not letting just anyone mooch off of me. I worked hard to earn my money too." She closes the door in my face. She was a mere inch away from catching my hand in the doorframe, but she showed no hesitation. I clench my hands into fists, understanding abruptly dawning on me. It turns out that our marriage is worth less than 30 thousand dollars to her.