Melodramatic Family Emotions の短編小説 & 小説

My wife, Evelyn Shaw, is a germaphobe. She makes us sleep in separate rooms, and even our laundry has to be done separately. She also throws out any dishes or utensils I use, claiming they're filthy. On our wedding anniversary, I find a man's tie and a half-smoked cigarette in her spotless car. When I confront her, she casually smooths her hair without even looking at me. "It belongs to a coworker I gave a ride to. He accidentally left it behind." I don't say a word. One call to Claire Bennett, her company's biggest rival, tells me everything I need to know. She recently hired a young male assistant, Adrian Holt. Claire laughs. "Your ice queen is in the break room feeding the guy cake right now. Last I heard, she couldn't keep her hands off him." I hang up and throw my anniversary gift into the trash. Evelyn Shaw, we're done.

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.

At the height of my little menace era, I'm busy pinning Marlon Briggs to the ground and making him lick my shoes for stealing my milk. Just then, a dozen luxury cars roll up and completely block the entrance to the orphanage. A tycoon crouches down in front of me, his hand trembling with emotion as he reaches out to pat my head. "Sweetie, I'm sorry. I found you too late. You've suffered so much." A chubby girl with a runny nose from the next class shivers and mutters under her breath, "Suffered? Yesterday, he used a slingshot to make a bunch of troublemakers kneel on the ground and beg him for mercy…'" I take a sip from the nearly empty juice box in my hand, meanwhile calculating how many juice boxes I can buy if I pawn the watch on my new dad's wrist. At that moment, New Dad's assistant answers a phone call and immediately breaks out in a sweat. "Mr. Sterling, we have a problem. Ms. Sterling snuck out because she wanted to meet her brother. She somehow ended up with a fever and passed out. "And the new Mrs. Sterling wants to know when you're coming home. She says it doesn't matter if we can't find your son. She can always give you another one…" It's bad enough that I have a sister. But I have a stepmom too? I toss my empty juice box into a trash can 30 feet away with perfect accuracy, dust off my hands, and climb straight into the back seat of the limousine. "Drive. We're going home." It's not that I'm eager to reunite with my long-lost family. It's just that I can't stand people causing trouble on my turf.

My younger sister, Amelia Reinhart, is in her freshman year in high school, and she has severe asthma. She can't handle the wind and rain, nor can she stand the smell of car leather. Our parents are working three shifts at the factory, so they don't have time to send her to school and pick her up when classes are over. So, I spend 40,000 dollars on a minibus with heating, and I also hire a driver, Gary Brown, to handle Amelia's school commutes. I feel bad for Amelia, so I double Gary's pay and tell him to take extra care of her. But one stormy day, as I drive past the school intersection, I see Amelia completely drenched, coughing as she wades through the mud with great effort…

When my wife, Whitney Novak, abandoned me on the mountaintop once again to rush off and take care of my younger brother, Aaron Novak, I was kidnapped on my way home. For three days and three nights, I endured unimaginable torture. The one call I managed to make for help was coldly hung up on. The day I finally dragged myself home, battered and covered in wounds, my family was celebrating Aaron's latest achievement. Whitney frowned in irritation. "Today's supposed to be a celebration. Who are you trying to disgust by showing up looking like that? Are you trying to make everyone think we've been abusing you?" My family looked at me with nothing but contempt. "You're worthless. You'll never measure up to Aaron. It should've been you who died instead." Later, they got exactly what they wanted. I really was dying. But if I was nothing more than a worthless failure, why were they crying?

"Ms. Clarke, you have successfully purchased a Final Memories recording package. We have arranged hidden cameras to record you anytime and anywhere. From this moment on, no matter where you go or what you do, everything will be secretly filmed until the day you pass away." The staff member handed the contract to Lila Clarke and asked her to confirm everything one last time. Without hesitation, she signed her name. The reason she ordered Final Memories was because she had been diagnosed with cancer. She had no more than one month left to live.

My dad died in a car accident when I was ten. Years later, I discover the truth. Dad's death wasn't an accident. Someone tampered with the brakes, and the culprit is none other than my mom. Dad died, not knowing that Mom had been with another man named Mason Shaw. Less than three months later, she married Mason and raised their son, Jason Gere, as her chosen successor. She also stole Dad's final composition, claiming it was an original work by Jason. 15 years later, I sit on the judging panel of an international piano competition. Jason, the so-called prodigy, is playing Dad's final masterpiece onstage. I press the buzzer, stopping the performance. "This piece isn't yours." My voice echoes through the microphone, reaching every person in the audience. "I refuse to mark you."

My mother, Yvonne Scott, is a maternal health specialist who has helped countless women safely deliver healthy babies. Her delivery with my older brother goes smoothly, but she suffers a difficult labor with me. After everything she endures to bring me into the world, I'm diagnosed with autism at the age of six. Dad can't accept it, so he leaves her. Mom blames me for derailing her career and destroying her marriage. Even as a kid, I can always see the resentment in her eyes. Over the next two years, she loses me twice. The third time, I watch her burn every trace of my existence. That's why I choose to leave home. 20 years later, I become a child psychologist specializing in autism and work as a special education specialist at Haverly's most prestigious school for children with autism. The school requires every incoming student to attend a one-on-one introductory session before the new term begins. When I spot Yvonne arriving with her grandson, my heart drops.

When I receive a summons in the divorce proceedings from my wife, Cora Moore, for the seventh time, I'm having cheese fondue at a restaurant with our daughter, Giselle Moore. The summons appears in front of both of us at the exact same moment. I force a smile and reassure her. "Sweetheart, just hang in there a little longer. This time, I'll definitely win custody of you!" Giselle falls silent for a moment before asking, "Daddy, how much are you planning to sell me for before you'll finally be happy?" I'm taken aback. Before I can say a word, she pulls out a divorce agreement from her backpack and hands it to me. "I know you've been fighting Mommy for me just to extort more money from her. I wrote this agreement on Mommy's behalf. Can you please sign it? "Mommy has it so hard. I wish you'd stop making things difficult for her." The agreement is handwritten by her. It allocates one million dollars to me in the division of assets. At the bottom, a note is added in her childish handwriting. "After accepting the money, you're not allowed to disturb Mommy, Cal, and me from living happily ever after!" Callum Scott is the man Cora has been cheating on me with for the last five years. All of a sudden, I'm filled with the overwhelming urge to laugh. For five long years, I've held my ground against pressure from all sides, refusing to sign the divorce agreement because I want custody of Giselle. To that end, I'm even willing to leave with nothing to my name. However, the daughter I've raised for eight years has come here to help her mother divorce me.

After being rushed to the hospital and brought back from another relapse, I vaguely heard my family arguing. "This is already the second time this month. When will it end?! Why isn't he dead yet?!" "Mom, don't say that! I've decided, I'll start working right after graduation to earn money!" My dad scolded my older brother, "But you have such good grades. You've already secured a spot for postgraduate studies. You should keep studying, let us take care of the money!" I lay on the bed, crying silently. After three years of being tormented by illness, I couldn't keep going anymore. This time, I chose to let go.

On the day of my daughter’s graduation trip, I ended up late because of work. When I rushed to the airport, I was stopped at the counter. “Sir, we don’t have your ticket details in the system.” I stood stunned for two seconds. I called my wife Sue Jenkins a dozen times before she finally picked up. “Did you buy a ticket for me?” It sounded very noisy on her end and her voice kept being cut off. “I accidentally filled in Clement’s name instead of yours, so I thought I’d just bring him along on the trip. I was so busy boarding the plane just now, I forgot to tell you. If you want to join us, take the next flight in…” My daughter’s voice suddenly sounded through the phone. “Dad, just do your work in peace. It’s good enough to have Mom and Clement with me on my graduation trip.” The call got cut off. The airport was bustling with people, but I stood rooted to the ground for a long time with my luggage case behind me. Sorrow filled my heart. When I was young, my mom was always biased toward my brother. She would always tell me that the elder brother should always give in to his younger brother. After growing up and having my own family, my wife took a liking for my younger brother. Even my daughter liked pestering him on a daily basis. I looked at the itinerary I spent many nights preparing. Exhaustion filled me. I picked up my phone and sent the resignation email I had typed out long ago to my company. Then, I booked a one-way flight ticket scheduled seven days later. Since I was always excluded, I decided to take the initiative to leave.

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.

I am the center of my parents' world. They turn my bedroom into every little boy's dream, with soccer balls, LEGO sets, and Transformers everywhere. They even spend a fortune installing a bathtub for me because I love taking baths. They always tell my little brother, Jason Tucker, that he has to protect me for the rest of my life. But everything changes when I take him into a hot bath with me, and he accidentally chokes on water. Mommy loses it. She grabs me by the throat and screams, "We thought you'd learn to care for your brother after all the love we gave you. We never imagined you'd turn out to be so ungrateful and try to drown him!" I shake my head frantically, but Mommy shoves me into the washing machine without hesitation. "You like taking baths, don't you? I'll give you a bath you'll never forget!" Mommy and Daddy take Jason out to play, but they fail to realize that they have accidentally pressed the washing machine's start button. The water keeps rising, but I can't climb out. As I'm tangled up with the clothes, I struggle to open my eyes and see Mommy and Daddy returning. I don't want to take baths anymore. Can Mommy and Daddy stop being mad at me?

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."

My brother died, so my parents forced me to undergo plastic surgery to look exactly like him and live his life in his place. "Your brother was a genius. You can't just leave his fiancée and research project behind. You have to take over." "You've accomplished nothing with your life anyway. Getting to live his life is a lucky break for you." They seemed to have forgotten that I had my own name and that I had a life of my own. My identity records were canceled, and my parents acted as though they had every right to do it. "If you really care about our family, then you should understand why we're doing this." "We're doing this for your own good. Don't be so ungrateful." Everyone thought I would break down and run away. Instead, I smiled. "He was a genius? Fine. I will take his place." I later signed a high-stakes wager agreement with his former rival and even carried out increasingly reckless experiments in his name whilst wearing his face. "Don't go too far. You'll destroy our family…" I looked at them calmly. "I see." I tightened my grip on the letters my brother had left behind before quietly feeding them into the shredder.

On my sixth birthday, my mother is suddenly diagnosed with depression. There are no warning signs and no apparent cause. The only explanation is a message her best friend, Heather Reed, sends Dad. "Don't ever let anyone hurt her." From that moment on, that message changes everything. What I never expect is that one day, it will cost me my life.

When I practice standing at attention during the freshman orientation program, my mom, Jasmine Miller, decides to lock me up in a car with fully sealed windows just because I'm the first one who wipes sweat off her brow. "You were never able to stand properly ever since you were a kid! How dare you embarrass me in front of everyone with that slump of yours! In that case, you might as well reflect on yourself in the car!" The temperature in the car soon rose to 140 degrees Fahrenheit. I could only grip my throat, which is closing up rapidly, as I bang on the car window and plead to Mom to let me out. But she merely glances at the temperature shown on the monitor inside the car before locking all the doors with a jab of the remote control. "It's only 96.8 degrees inside the car! Heck, it's even a degree lower than the temperature outside! Keep putting on that act of yours, why don't you?" But what Mom doesn't know is that the car's system has already gotten disconnected from the Internet a long time ago. Seeing as the temperature inside the car is still increasing, I have no choice but to ask my orientation leader, Edwin Styke, for help. But he actually agrees with Mom's approach to things. "If every parent were as strict as Ms. Miller, none of the youngsters would grow up fragile and whiny!" Driven by sheer despair, I can only slump in the backseat. Soon, my consciousness fades away completely. Some of my peers try to plead on my behalf, only to witness the way Mom tosses her car key into the dumpster. "Kate really is enjoying her break, huh? Now that she's lying inside the car, she refuses to even move a muscle! Well then, she can lie there all she wants!" But Mom, I don't need you to free me anymore. After all, I can feel myself ascending slowly from the car. Finally, I'm free from this sauna! As I stare at Mom's furious face, I can only grip the hem of my sweat-soaked shirt uneasily. I'm sorry for embarrassing you in front of everyone again, Mom…

My wife Naomi Holden's phone was always on silent mode. Whenever I needed to reach her, the call never went through. My only option was to ask everyone around us, but when every single person gave a different answer, I already knew the truth. She was with him again, the frail man she had never been able to let go of. On our seventh anniversary, we had plans to meet at our usual spot for dinner. Three hours passed, and she still had not shown up. I stood on the street, burning with fever, dialing one number after another. My father picked up, his voice warm and unhurried. "Naomi just came by for dinner. Don't worry, I've got my eye on her for you." A friend working at her company laughed it off. "Wyatt, relax. Ms. Holden is sitting in on a meeting in our department right now." Even my own sister swore up and down, saying, "Naomi's right here with me at a gallery opening. I'll have her home safe and sound, I promise." Last was our daughter, on the call through her little smartwatch. "Mommy's out shopping for toys with me and Grandma!" Every single person was trying to prove that Naomi was right there beside them. What none of them knew was that Naomi was standing right in front of me. Through the restaurant's glass window, she was cutting up food for the man sitting across from her. My own reflection stared back at me from the glass, haggard, rain-soaked, and pathetic. For the first time, I thought that maybe it was finally time to pull out the thorn that had been lodged in my heart for years.

My wife, Lani Fort, finally answered my calls only after my daughter, Anjou, stopped breathing. “Didn’t I tell you that Warren Stafford’s dog was having a difficult labor? I’m in the middle of saving a life right now. “You’ve called 108 times in two hours. What on earth is going on?” Two hours earlier, my daughter had suddenly developed a high fever, so I took her to the hospital. The doctor diagnosed her with acute myocarditis and said her only chance of survival was to use an ECMO machine. The $50,000 initial fee for the treatment had become an insurmountable obstacle for me. I called her 108 times, but she had rejected every single call. My voice trembled as I held my daughter’s lifeless body. “Anjou... she’s gone...” Loud cheers erupted from the other end of the line. Her childhood friend cheered joyfully. “They’re here! They’re here! Pudding gave birth to eight puppies in her first litter.” Lani’s voice also carried a note of relief. “I drove two hours to take her to the veterinary hospital. Spending $50,000 to save the lives of eight dogs was well worth it.” During the proposal, she said she would love me forever. After we got married, she said she could not give up her career. So, she made me quit my job to stay home and take care of the kids. The $50,000 treatment bill had cost my child her life. On the other hand, she had spent $50,000 to save Warren’s dog. Our marriage would not survive this.

The fake heiress was dead. My biological parents believed I was responsible. Together, they reported me to the authorities and demanded that my memories be extracted. After watching my memories, everyone broke down in tears. But I smiled. This was exactly what I wanted. To become the perfect victim.