Cerita Pendek & Novel Cheating Imagination

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.

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.

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.

I had always thought I was the happiest woman in the world. After all, my fiance was rich, handsome, and thoughtful. To everyone else, he was practically perfect. However, I found three divorce decrees and death certificates of his three ex-wives in his drawer the day before our wedding. Before I could even process the shock, a wall of floating comments appeared before my eyes. 'So, she's the next victim, huh?' 'The last three thought they could change Ivan and insist on marrying him, although they found his secret, and look where it got them. This one is even dumber, completely blinded by love. I bet she thinks he can still be redeemed. Little does she know, he doesn't love her at all.' 'We need more villainous male leads! I wonder how this woman would die this time. I can't wait to see it!' 'Great news, friends! The female lead, Cynthia, will appear soon! She's the only one who can free Ivan from his dark thoughts!' The next moment, a colleague dropped to her knees and grabbed my thigh. Tears spilled from her eyes in an instant as she accused me, "Please, give my man back to me! Being a homewrecker won't end well for you. He and I are soulmates. He needs me to pull him out of the abyss. Only I can give him what he truly wants!" My other colleagues circled me and echoed her accusations. I simply nodded. Then I tore the wedding invitations in half. 'Go ahead. He's all yours now,' I thought.

I was a player. At the same time, I was juggling three gorgeous girlfriends. Then, after an accident, I got pulled into a horror game. That was when I discovered something terrifying. All three of my girlfriends were major bosses in the game. The good news was, none of them knew about the others. The bad news was, if they ever found out, I was dead. To stay alive, I spent every waking hour managing my messy dating life, doing everything I could to keep my three girlfriends from tearing each other apart. Until one day, several lines of floating comments appeared in front of me. [Run, kid. She is coming for you.] [Careful, baby. She wants to wring you dry.] Just as I was drowning in fear and despair, one of the women leaned close to my ear and asked in the softest voice, “Kid, do you know the female boss from the amusement park?”

On the day I become an actual heir of a wealthy family, the fake heir, Andrew Scott, tells me that he wishes to return the marriage contract to me, his eyes red and puffy. Thinking about my girlfriend, Elyssa Grant, who has just gotten pregnant, I reply softly, "It's fine. I already have someone I love." As soon as my words fall, I see comments floating in front of my eyes all of a sudden. "What a joke! The villain might be swift in rejecting the marriage contract right now, but once he sees the female lead, he'll definitely regret his decision!" "But the female lead still chooses to be with the male lead at the end of the day. That's when the villain starts pestering her." "In the end, the male lead is forced to slit his wrist, leading to the villain getting hated by the entire Scott family. He'll die a tragic death after that." I lower my gaze, finding it absurd. Why would I pester a woman I've never seen before in my life? At that moment, I hear footsteps echoing from behind me. As Andrew wipes his tears away, he approaches the newcomer hastily. "El, this is my older brother, Eddie Scott. This marriage contract is originally his." I turn around to meet a pair of familiar eyes. It's Elyssa, my girlfriend of five years who has supported me and is currently pregnant with my baby.

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...

When the news of my husband's death reached me, I was seven months pregnant. My vision went black, and I fainted on the spot. When I opened my eyes again, a childish voice shouted in my head, "Mommy, wake up! Scumbag Daddy tricked you! He's not dead! He's with his mistress who's about to steal your identity!" I was stunned. The voice angrily spoke again, "The head of the Shaw family from the capital is your biological brother. Today, Scumbag Daddy is going to let his mistress take your place as his long-lost sister! Then, he and his mistress will conspire to kill you, and my brother and I will be sold off. To protect me, my brother will get his legs broken by human traffickers in the future and starve to death!" The child's heartbreaking cry jolted me awake from my grief like a bucket of ice water. I thought it was a hallucination, but then I heard the voice of an unfamiliar man in the living room. "Mr. Shaw, this is Miss Alice Woods. She's the long-lost sister that you've been looking for for twenty years!"

My wife, Camilla Fender, who was also the richest person in Jaxonville, had just given birth. Meanwhile, I, Frank Langley, was dragged into a survival game. With our baby strapped to my back, I ran through the woods for my life. I then heard Camilla's best friend's voice coming through the loudspeaker. "Camilla, why aren't you staying at the hospital with Frank to recover after giving birth? Why did you come here? Is your lover throwing another tantrum?" Camilla chuckled. Her voice was filled with helpless affection. "Yeah. Jack insisted on coming to watch this circus show. Frank thought I had business to handle, so he even pushed me to come back here when our child's surgery was happening. He's ridiculously foolish." I desperately slammed against the surveillance camera to try to get Camilla's attention and ask for help, but because Jack Solomon screamed in fright, she simply pressed the punishment button in her hand. An electric current coursed through my entire body. My son coughed up blood, and the blood splattered all over the ground. I curled up with tears streaming down my face. As the footsteps of the people hunting us grew closer and closer, the survival game reached its climax. Everyone was gambling on who would survive until the end. Only Camilla's voice remained cold. "I'm betting a million dollars that the crazy father and his son will die!"

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.”

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.

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."

Six months into my pregnancy, I heard my baby's cry for help. 'Mommy, save me. Please, do the C-section early. I have a congenital breathing condition. If you don't get me out now, I'll suffocate.' I listened to my baby's desperate pleading, gritted my teeth, and agreed to an early cesarean. In the end, my daughter and I both died. Right before I went, I heard the doctor say, with real regret, that the baby had been perfectly healthy. There'd been nothing wrong with her at all. When I opened my eyes again, I was pregnant once more, and once again I heard my baby crying for help. Only this time, another voice answered—soft and sweet, like a much younger child. 'Mommy, don't believe that voice. They want you to deliver early so they can give my umbilical cord blood to his illegitimate son. That boy has a blood disease, and without cord blood this month, he'll die. That's the only reason that lowlife husband of yours is so desperate to rush you into labor.'

I unexpectedly receive a call from myself ten years in the past. 18-year-old me sounds rather thrilled while asking, "Who did you end up marrying, 28-year-old Theo? Did you marry the calm and gentle Hannah Shaw or the bold and fiery Mia Shaw?" I look down at the scar left by my severed finger and chuckle softly. "I didn't marry either of them." There is a moment of silence on the other end of the phone before he speaks up. "You're lying. Hannah said she would be there for me for the rest of our lives, and Mia said that she would stand up for me if anyone mistreated me." I close my eyes briefly before saying, "They are the ones who will hurt you in the future. They both fell in love with Isaac Somerville, the housekeeper's son. They killed Dad so he could become part of the Webster family—and burned down the Webster residence just to please him. "You even lost your right eye in the fire." 18-year-old me on the other end of the line is clearly flustered. "H-How could that be?" I grip the phone tightly and say with the last bit of strength I have left, "You should choose neither of them, Theo. Get as far away from them as you can, and don't look back this time."

The year I lose my eyesight, I happen to stumble upon Wendy Peck, who's just moments away from freezing to death. I beg my mom to save her, telling her I want a companion to guide me. Leaning toward Wendy, I whisper a promise in her ear. "I don't need you to be my guide. Just focus on staying alive. And you can go wherever you want." But after my mom remarries, Wendy stays and becomes the only person I have left to rely on. She watches over me as I grow up, acting as my white cane year after year. She even goes so far as to walk away from her dream and incredible talent for painting to study medicine, all for the sake of my eyes. But even though she has become one of the best eye doctors in the world, I still can't see a thing. Then, on my 25th birthday, Wendy's former closest friend, Abel Petersen, wins a prestigious art award. Wendy locks herself in the study, and all I hear is the rustling of paper. Keeping her emotions in check, she tells me she's writing me a birthday wish. Just as I happily step forward to kiss her, lines of comments suddenly sweep across my pitch-black vision. "Wake up, you blind idiot. She just tore all her paintings to shreds, and on the back of every single one, she wrote, 'Drop dead, James Glover.'" "Don't take another step forward! She left a live wire in front of you. If you step on it, you're a goner!" I freeze in my tracks. Then, with a smile, I continue to stride toward her. "Wendy, all your wishes will definitely come true."

During the company retreat, my husband put my dignity on the poker table. He deliberately threw the game to the twenty-two-year-old intern, feeding her the winning hand and letting her bask in everyone's applause. I frowned and was about to speak, but my husband gently patted the back of my hand. "Don't take it too seriously, lady boss. Let the young girl have her fun." When the intern's gaze settled on the diamond bracelet around my wrist, I instinctively reached to protect the last shred of dignity I had left. Before I could say a word, my husband had already agreed on my behalf. "Fine. We'll bet that." Laughter erupted around the table, and my heart went cold. Just then, my baby suddenly stirred inside me, and a tiny voice echoed in my mind. 'Mommy, bet with her. I'm your little lucky charm. I'll make sure you win.' I raised my eyes to meet the intern's challenging stare. Then, without breaking eye contact, I slowly slipped the bracelet off my wrist.

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."

At a private spa retreat, my husband’s assistant brought me a glass of iced coffee. I was parched and about to drain it when a stream of comments appeared before my eyes. [Drink it, you wicked villainess! The coffee is laced with enough sleeping pills to knock you out. Don’t ruin the leads’ big moment!] [I’m dying. The male lead is sleeping with his sister-in-law right under the villainess’ nose.] [The leads are all over each other in the sauna! This is getting spicy!] Suspicious, I lowered the glass, and the comment stream erupted. [Why isn’t the villainess drinking it?!] Were they calling me the villainess? I glanced toward the sauna, then walked straight over to it. I pulled a floor cushion over, sat down outside the steaming wooden door, and called to a staff member, “Excuse me, could you turn up the heat? I want to sit here and sweat it out.” [What?! No! Our precious leads are going to be cooked alive!]

To support Gavin Cooper’s work, I waited in our first-floor home with our son, who was burning with a high fever, while the hurricane raged outside. Yet as the head of the local emergency response team, he gave the last remaining life ring to his childhood sweetheart, Wendy Harper, on the tenth floor. When I voiced my dissatisfaction, he berated me over the phone. “Luna, you’re my wife. I can’t abuse my position for personal gain. I have to set an example. “But Wendy is different. She’s a widow raising a young daughter, so I have a responsibility to make sure they’re protected.” Once again, his argument about putting the greater good first won me over. That was until the floodwaters swallowed the first floor, and I hurriedly called the command center while holding my barely breathing son in my arms. The person on the other end apologized before informing me, “Ma’am, Mr. Cooper registered Miss Harper and her daughter as the first people to be evacuated. You and your son were placed in the final group.” As I watched my son slowly stop breathing, my heart turned to ash. “System, I accept your recommendation to leave this world with my son.” “Gavin, my son and I will never need you to save us again.”

My husband, Gideon Hale, returned from the war with barely a breath left in him. Yet despite his condition, he insisted on going to the palace and used his military achievements to secure a royal decree. I thought he had gone to obtain a noble title for me. I was ready to berate him for his foolishness, but the contents of the decree rooted me to the spot. [By royal decree, Gideon Hale, Marquis of Northguard, and his first wife, Clara Reinhart, are permitted to share a tomb.] Clara was my dearest friend from girlhood. My ears rang. I opened my mouth to demand an explanation, but before I could utter a word, Gideon breathed his last. I stood frozen until my son suddenly snatched the decree from my hands and said impatiently, "Mother is Father's true wife. I'm her son too. You gave birth to a daughter, but she died long ago." The words struck me like lightning, and a sharp pain twisted through my chest. "You... What did you just say?" My son didn't answer. Instead, he ordered someone to bring out the family register. The place that had always belonged to me as Gideon's lawful wife now bore Clara Reinhart's name, inscribed there by Gideon's own hand with the utmost solemnity. "Father allowed you to keep the dignity of being his wife. He never publicly acknowledged Mother his entire life. You should be grateful, shouldn't you?" Then he handed me our marriage certificate. Gideon's name still stood beside Clara's. Yet the marriage certificate I had treasured for years was completely blank, as though it had never borne a single word. Only then did the full truth sink in. Not only had I been nothing more than a consort all these years, but I had also raised another woman's child as my own. Before I could draw another breath, I died with my eyes wide open. When I opened them again, I had returned to the day I gave birth.