Feel-Good Story Imagination 단편 소설 & Cheating 소설

My boyfriend thought I was too fat at 121 pounds. I signed up for a gym and started working out like crazy, but the more I tried to lose weight, the more I gained. Meanwhile, my best friend, Chloe Woods, was doing late-night eating streams every single day, stuffing herself with steaks, seafood, and greasy takeout. Not only did she not gain weight, she dropped from 154 pounds to 143. When my boyfriend started tearing into me even worse than before, I suddenly heard the tabby cat’s voice in my head. “You idiot. Chloe’s got you trapped in a weight-swap system. “No matter how hard you try to lose weight, she’s the one getting thinner. Every pound you lose is a pound she drops. She’s trying to ruin you.” I froze and turned to look at my best friend, Chloe. She was staring at my boyfriend without even trying to hide it, her eyes full of admiration. Then the tabby’s voice exploded in my ears again. “Chloe is obsessed with that trashy loser. Once she gets skinny, the two of them will hook up. Then they'll team up to get you killed and spend your settlement money living a happy life.” The moment I learned the truth, I smiled. Since my so-called best friend wanted to be skinny that badly, if I made her whole body weigh less than 50 pounds, she’d probably be very grateful to me, right?

On our first wedding anniversary, my husband came home with a woman who was six months pregnant. He introduced her as his cousin, someone who had fallen on hard times, and asked me to take care of her. I was just about to agree when fragments of imaginary commentary floated through my mind: [She's just my 'cousin'. Uh-uh, that's a cliche.] [Poor supporting female character! A maid by day, the husband's bedwarmer by night.] [But she totally deserved it! If she hadn't broken up the main couple, they'd have a whole soccer team of kids by now!] Wait—what? Supporting female character? Me? And what's this about breaking them up? So now these two get to cheat under my roof, and somehow I'm the villain? Before I could process it all, my husband was already dragging her luggage inside. "Alice doesn't like fried food," he said matter-of-factly. "And nothing too salty or spicy. Make sure you keep that in mind when you're cooking. "Oh, and pregnant women love sweets. Go out now and buy a cherry cake. The one from that bakery in the suburbs."

My husband, Jared Casey, and I decide to host another wedding ceremony on our 20th wedding anniversary. Just before the ceremony begins, my best friend, Noelle Stark, and Jared are suddenly nowhere to be found. They don't pick up their phones when I call them. I search every nook and cranny and finally hear them arguing inside a private room. "I'm going to come clean to Lilian after the ceremony is over. The children need their father," Jared says. "Don't you dare!" Noelle hisses. "You already secretly tampered with her university application form all those years ago for my sake. I even gave birth to your children. We've already wronged her too many times. We can't hurt her again." The blood in my veins turns to ice. There's a loud buzzing in my ears. The door swings open in the next second. The bewildered look in Jared's eyes is swiftly replaced by indifference when he sees me. "So, you've heard everything. Noelle didn't give birth to her two children via IVF. They belong to me. It's up to you whether you still want to go through with the wedding ceremony." The ground suddenly starts to shake. When Jared realizes that it's an earthquake, he reflexively lunges at Noelle and protects her with his own body. The chandelier that's hanging from the ceiling loosens and comes crashing down on my head. "Lilian…" I have a splitting headache when I force my eyes open and come face-to-face with an 18-year-old Jared. My university application form is tucked under my arm.

Ten minutes before the wedding ceremony is about to begin, I receive a disturbing photo on my phone. In it, a man with deeply sunken eyes is crawling on the ground like a dog. He is so skinny that he's nothing more than skin and bones. Meanwhile, my bride, Waverly Suther, is looming over the man on the floor as she gazes down at him with a disdainful sneer. Just as I'm about to block the number of the person who sent me this disturbing prank photo, that person sends me another two messages. "Run away from the wedding! Right now! Don't marry Waverly Suther, no matter what!" "That man on the floor is you ten years from now!"

My company hosts an appreciation gala to thank long-time clients. I go to the company's cold storage to retrieve the batch of wine just flown in from overseas when a stream of comments suddenly appears before my eyes. "That was close! She almost caught Daisy covered in red wine and looking all seductive. Good thing Tristan reacted fast and hid her in the freezer." "Can Scarlett just leave already? Look how cold Daisy and Tristan are. They are shivering. What if they catch a cold?" I pause mid-step, my gaze landing on the freezer behind me. Red wine is dripping out, and a piece of fabric is caught in the door. On it, I see the motif I personally sew onto my fiancé's clothes. Just then, the comments appear again. "Tristan plays it cool, claiming he is all about platonic love and staying chaste for Daisy. What a touching romance!" I smirked coldly. The platonic act is fake. The truth is he's cheating on me. Without a word, I turn around and toss the clothes they leave on the floor into the trash. Then, I lock the cold storage door and call the boss, who is in the middle of giving a speech. I exclaim over the phone, "A thief broke into the company! I locked them in the cold storage. Please bring some men and come over quickly!"

I woke up at midnight to find my husband out of bed. I called his number, but there was no answer. I searched everywhere and realized he wasn't around. The young nanny had disappeared as well. I barely reached the garage when I heard muffled wanton noises inside. I stormed over, trying to catch the infidel pair in the act. When I opened the door, my husband was standing there with a surgical kit. He was about to head out in his car. He explained, "Honey, I need to catch a flight to Silverport. A patient there needs immediate surgery. You should go to bed without me." I sighed in relief, feeling ridiculous to have doubted him. Suddenly, a few comments rolled before my eyes. "That was so close! They almost got caught! Luckily, Ava had cleverly hidden in the trunk. That bitch will find nothing once Ethan drives away." "My heart is swelling just from watching them! A stoic, genius doctor and a cheery, adorable nanny are a perfect match! Tonya stands no chance against Ava!" I glanced at the shut trunk and slid into the driver's seat with a smile, offering, "Honey, why don't I give you a ride to the airport?"

In eight years together, my boyfriend—Shayne Raffield—blocked me eighty-eight times. This time? Because I missed his call. At my best friend's birthday party. Usually, I'd panic-order a gift, then stand outside his office, head down, ready to beg. But today? I blocked him first. The Chat Feed popped up, loud as ever: [Nooo, Ley-Bae, don't block Shay-Shay! He's just got abandonment issues. Comfort him!] [Shay's heart = shattered; Eyes = red. Ley, go! One pout and he's yours again!] Then Shayne called. Didn't say a word. Just breathed for ten seconds and hung up. The Chat Feed freaked out. [AHHHH SHAY LOVES LEY SO MUCH HE JUST SUCKS AT SAYING IT. THIS COWARD'S GONNA LOSE HIS GIRL.]

While inspecting my company’s cold-chain operations, my wife, Mandy Snow, and the college boy, Jonas Leedon, who I’d been sponsoring suddenly vanished. As I passed the cabinet storing the research supplies, a stream of floating comments suddenly flashed before my eyes. [That was way too close! Jeff Miller almost caught them. Good thing Mandy reacted fast and dragged her boy toy into the storage cabinet.] [But that cabinet is about to be locked up and shipped to the Antarctic research station. Are those two trying to turn themselves into ice sculptures?] I froze. My wife was cheating on me right under my nose? I was just about to pull open the cabinet door when my wife’s assistant, Patrick, hurried over and forced a smile, blocking my way. “Mr. Miller, the seal on this cabinet was just waxed and hasn’t dried yet. Careful, or you’ll get your hands dirty.” The floating comments appeared again. [That was so close! The assistant’s pretty sharp. Once Mandy gets out, she totally owes him a car.] [No wonder she’s the lucky heroine. She always gets out of trouble. I seriously can’t wait to watch her sweet romance with her boy toy.] Looking at the comments in front of me, I let out a cold laugh. “These are critical supplies for the research team. To make sure nothing goes wrong, seal the cabinet right now.” “Go get a welder. Weld the door shut.” The assistant froze, and so did the floating comments. [What the hell? This evil male character is brutal. The two people inside aren’t wearing a thing.] [Help! If the door gets welded shut, the male and female leads are going to drift at sea for a month and freeze into specimens!]

Everyone was having a blast on the yacht for Valentine’s Day when my boyfriend, Ethan Hayes, asked me to go tell his uncle I fancied him. “Go on, tell him. You’re a lucky girl if he actually takes a liking to you! Next time we meet, I might even have to call you auntie!” Vivian Lawrence, his childhood sweetheart, was by my boyfriend’s side, smiling triumphantly. Just a few minutes ago, they had shared a glass of cocktail. I clutched the watch in my pocket—bought with two months of my savings to make peace—my heart riddled with holes. Suddenly, a line of live comment lit up before my eyes: “I’m sick of this jerk. Girl, go for the uncle. He’s the real big shot. He’s fancied you for a long time, even gave up everything abroad to come back to you!” Looking at the sneering Ethan, I took a deep breath, pulled up my skirt, revealing my long, straight legs. “Fine, I’ll give it a try! “If he returns my affection, you’ll have to call me your aunt soon.”

At the company's year-end party, a colleague asks me teasingly about when exactly my boyfriend, Hayden Potter, and I will get married. Hayden's female buddy, Melissa Somers, instantly speaks up for him. "He's not in a rush. After all, Hayden's main priority is his career." At first, I don't think much about Melissa's response. But the next thing I know, I suddenly hear her internal thoughts. [Marriage? When Hayden was sleeping over at my place, he promised me that he'd marry me!] I freeze up on the spot before whirling around to stare at Hayden and Melissa. At the moment, Melissa is taking a sip from Hayden's drink through the same straw he just used. Hayden never once looks at me. In fact, he even has an arm wrapped around Melissa's shoulders.

At our engagement party, Regina Horton walks toward me through the crowd, arm in arm with Larry Dickson, and says, "Since you love me so much, Dominic Carlson, I will ask Larry Dickson to proceed with the engagement with me in your place instead." I meet her unyielding eyes as a mechanical voice echoes in my mind. "Hi, Dominic. This is the 1000th day since you failed to win over the female lead. Do you wish to give up on being her sugar daddy?" "Yes." "Got it. You may choose a future path for her as well." "I want her bound to Larry for the rest of her life."

I had been able to see the labels above people's heads ever since I was little. When I was three, my grandpa held a family dinner at his house. Dad showed up with his secretary, Vivian Clarke. The moment she walked through the door, she went straight to Mom's seat. She rubbed her lower back and smiled sweetly. "Mrs. Lincoln, I hope you don't mind. Mr. Lincoln and I have been working on a project all day, and we're exhausted." I looked around the room. Above Eric's head was a glaring label. "Cheater." Above Mom's head was a dull gray label. "Loser." And above Vivian's head was a brightly shining label. "Ultimate gold digger." I immediately tugged on Eric's sleeve and asked loudly, "Dad, what do ‘cheater’ and ‘gold digger’ mean?"

The night before the SAT, I record a video call between my present self and my future self ten years from now. Except the line actually connects to my future self. "Did I make it into Crythoria University's joint bachelor's-master's program? Is Brielle still my best friend? "If everything went according to plan, I should be done with grad school by now and married to David, right? High school sweethearts tying the knot! "Maybe we even have a cute kid together? I've already picked out a nickname." I blush, letting my imagination run wild. But the moment David Barrett's name leaves my mouth, the future me flies into a rage. "David gave you disappearing ink pens so Brielle could become the top scorer in the city! You didn't get into Crythoria. You had to repeat your senior year. "David acted heartbroken and promised to make long-distance work. Then he turned right around, went public with Brielle at college, and became the couple everyone envies. "Felicity Fisher, you absolute idiot! You got cheated on and still thanked Brielle for taking care of your boyfriend!"

The moment we witness the last surviving child in the safehouse getting pinned to the wall by a zombie before having his guts torn out, all the men in the team break down mentally. "Captain, didn't you claim that Selene kept rambling nonsense because she had gone crazy out of fright toward the zombies? Isn't that why you reassured us to keep watch while you and Madeline watched the sunrise on the summit? "Why is it that my newborn has already gotten devoured by a zombie as soon as I return to the safehouse?" Quinton Morwood goes deathly pale at the accusation. My heart feels as though it's gotten torn into pieces as I stare at the tragedy. In my previous life, when the zombies attacked the safehouse, Quinton, who was the captain of the defence team, had taken the entire team with him just so he could watch the sunrise with Madeline Moore at the mountain summit. I did everything I could to summon everyone back to the base. That was how everyone's lives were spared from the zombie attack. But Madeline was pissed that she did't get to watch the sunrise, so she left the safezone angrily on her own. That was how she got grabbed by a zombie and eaten by a horde. By the time Quinton and his squad killed the entire horde, he just hugged Madeline's femur to his chest without saying a single word. On the day I gave birth to my baby, Quinton hacked my limbs off before throwing me into the roaming hordes of zombies. I could only watch as the zombies tore my flesh off my bones before Quinton saved me again by healing me. The cycle kept going on and on until I witnessed the last piece of flesh being torn off my body. "You're the one who killed Madeline, you wretched woman! Since you like competing with her that much, I'll make sure you'll die a worse death than hers!" When I open my eyes again, I've returned to the day the zombies are attacking the safezone.

As the heir to a bloodline of diagnostic empaths, I was born with an extraordinary gift. The instant my fingers made contact with a patient’s skin, I could hear every organ speak its mind. When I examined a drunkard, his liver had screamed from inside him, “Half a bottle of whiskey and two beers every day! Look at me! I’m so dark and shriveled, I practically look like beef jerky soaked in bourbon!” When I examined a woman who had been struggling to conceive, her uterus had lamented, “Her husband’s swimmers can barely move, yet he has the nerve to blame me for not doing my job?” One night, after returning from a business trip, I accidentally touched Andy Croft’s wrist while pulling the blanket over him. A weak voice immediately came from his kidneys. “I’m running on fumes here. Three times a day, every day, for two straight weeks. Even a machine would have broken down by now!” His heart chimed in right after. “Every time he receives a check-in call, I start pounding so hard from panic that I feel like I could break through his ribs!” His skin was even more indignant. “That awful woman really went wild with her nails! His back looks like he lost a fight with a wildcat. She even bit him on the shoulder. Does she have a thing for biting?” My hands shook as I pulled back Andy’s collar. A fresh bite mark stood out clearly on his shoulder. That same night, I called a number I had not dialed in years. “You once made me an offer long ago. I accept.”

On the day of my wedding to Christine Moore, strange floating comments suddenly appeared before my eyes. [LMAO, the real young master still has no idea the bride is fake! Christine is at the hospital accompanying the fake heir Troy Bolton right now!] [It doesn’t matter who the bride is anyway. Christine only agreed to the marriage for the Shane family’s investment. The fake heir is her true love.] [Serves this villain right for driving our poor Troy away the moment he came back. In the end, the female lead destroys his entire family, and honestly, he deserves it.] I hid the shock in my eyes and finished the wedding as if nothing had happened. I refused to become a stepping stone in someone else’s love story. And I definitely refused to die as their disposable villain. If she did not want to marry me, then fine. I would make the fake wedding real, and marry someone else instead.

When Chloe said yes to my proposal, I could hear her thoughts. ‘Once Gavin finds out I’m marrying Owen, he’ll regret breaking up with me, right?’ That was when I realized she had only agreed to be with me to get back at her ex. What I thought was mutual love had been a joke from the very beginning. In the end, I decided to give Chloe the one thing she had always dreamed of—a grand wedding beyond comparison. On the wedding day, the moment she saw that I was not the groom, she panicked...

After clawing my way to the top and driving out the first wife, I lived by one rule only. Whoever paid was king. So I became Jesse Fleming's perfect trophy wife. He liked innocent, delicate girls, so I looked at him with wide, clear eyes. He hated materialistic women, so I wore faded dresses and told him love could conquer anything. Then he fell for a wild, redheaded girl from the streets. "You can't give me what Gina does. Let's break up." He slid a bank card across the table. "Sarah, sign the papers, and the 50 million is yours. You don't want to walk away with nothing, do you?" I looked down at the agreement, clenching my fists. Then a live chat popped up. 'Just sign it already. He's got HIV. You'll die if you stay with him!' I was about to sign the papers, but froze and tore the papers into pieces the next second.

I had just found out I was a perfect match and was preparing to donate a kidney to my wife’s foster brother. That night, he left his iPad in the living room, and the screen lit up with a chat history between him and a doctor. “Doctor Evans, whatever you do, don’t tell my brother-in-law,” the message read. “If his kidney is removed, his hidden heart condition will flare up, and he won’t last three months.” The next day, I decisively canceled the donation. My wife was furious, calling me cold-blooded and forcing me to sign a divorce agreement that left me with absolutely nothing. A day later, I overheard his smug laughter from outside his hospital room. “He’s so stupid,” Boyd said. “I just photoshopped a fake chat log, and he actually believed he was sick. Now, we’ve stolen his luxury penthouse, and we can finally be together out in the open.” My wife kissed him. “Good boy. I’ll buy you a better kidney on the black market later.” Standing outside the door, I sneered. Of course, I knew the record was fake. After all, I had just reincarnated from the future. In half a month, a zombie apocalypse would strike, and this toxic pair of secret lovers would not only steal my medicine but also throw me to the undead. This time, with only three days left before the city is overrun by zombies, I want to see something. I want to see exactly how many days a sick bastard without a kidney transplant and a heartless woman without any survival supplies can last inside my luxury penthouse.

Ten minutes before the ceremony, my phone lit up with a photograph that made my stomach turn. A woman with sunken eyes, thin down to the bone, crawling across a floor on her hands and knees like a dog. My fiance, Harrison Blake, stood over her, looking down at her with disgust. I was about to block the number and write it off as a prank when two more messages came through. "Run. Right now. Whatever you do, don't marry Harrison Blake." "That woman on the floor is you, ten years from now."