Melodramatic Imagination Short Stories & Golden Finger Novels

I did not really go crazy when I found out my fiance was cheating on me. There was one simple reason. Solomon Zimmer had a strange condition—every time he lied, his body would break out in a rash. He had never been able to lie to me. So, when I confronted him, Solomon remained perfectly calm. "You're the one I love the most, Yvonne. I'd never cheat on you." There was no breakout. Unfortunately, I did not buy his story at all. Whenever he said he was doing overtime, I would wait outside his office. Whenever he went on a business trip, I would book a flight and follow him wherever he went. In the end, I installed surveillance cams in his car and GPS on his phone. When he found out what I had done, disappointment filled his eyes. "It's been six months. You went from unhinged to crazy. So, tell me, did you find out who the woman was?" He pulled my fingers away and tore his ring off. "If you have so little trust in me, perhaps we should delay the wedding indefinitely." That shattered me into a million pieces, and my depression attacked me at the same time. I was going to slit myself, but then a screen of comments popped up before my eyes. "Finally, the side character's getting the boot! MMC forced himself to take allergy meds for six months so he wouldn't have a breakout when this girl demanded answers from him." "Well, this character is the FMC's best friend. The FMC's been staying overseas all these years so she wouldn't break this side character's heart. Poor MMC. He had to travel back and forth for seven years." My hand froze in midair, and along it was the blade that would cut through my flesh. Then, my best friend, Louise Stone, messaged me. "I'm coming home, Yvonne."

On the cruise for our high school graduation trip, a woman who looked exactly like me appeared out of nowhere. "Hello, Vesper Monroe. I'm you, ten years from now." Her voice was clear and steady. Shock and joy hit me all at once. I quickly signed back, "You can talk now? No, wait. You mean ten years from now, I can talk? Who cured me? Was it Aiden Tyson?" She smiled and nodded. Happiness flooded through me, and I eagerly pressed her for more. "So, ten years from now, did I marry him? How did our life turn out?" "Very happy. Ten years from now, he cured your illness and gave you your life back. Not only did you marry him, but you also had a beautiful daughter. Your family is whole." I felt as if I'd fallen straight into a jar of honey. I ducked my head shyly. "So, should I confess to him now? Or should I wait for him to tell me how he feels?" The face before me suddenly turned cold. "No. What you need to do now is give up your college choice and get as far away from him as you can. "Even if it means staying mute for the rest of your life, you need to cut him off completely."

"Honey, I cut my finger. It hurts so much!" I had just sent Perry Clayton a photo of the shallow cut on my index finger when a barrage of comments suddenly flashed before my eyes: [I can't stand this whiny supporting character. The male lead is a CEO worth twenty billion dollars, and she bothers him over a tiny cut.] [Our girl starts working at his company tomorrow. Once he sees how strong and understanding she is, he'll dump his wife in a heartbeat.] [Later, this drama queen refuses to divorce him, keeps pestering him, and even frames our girl. In the end, he breaks her arms and legs and locks her up in a psychiatric hospital.] The vicious words filled my vision, and I clenched my fingers in anger. Just then, Perry rushed in from outside and grabbed my hand, fear still written in his eyes. "Thank goodness it's only a scratch. Honey, what were you trying to cut? I'll do it for you."

Ever since I can remember, every person who crosses my path has a floating number above their head. It shows the exact number of times we will ever see each other again in this lifetime. When that number hits "1", it means this meeting is our final goodbye. At ten years old, my grandmother's number dropped to "1". That afternoon, she brushed my hair one last time before passing away peacefully in her sleep. When I graduated from college, my mentor’s number stood at "2". After our second meeting, he moved his family abroad and never returned. At twenty-five, I married Lucas Bolton, a star defense attorney. He was an absolute powerhouse in the courtroom, yet he gave all his tenderness to me. Throughout our seven years of marriage, he made it a point to come home on time every single day. He willingly handed over all his income, and no matter how busy he was on business trips, he always called me on video before going to bed. Most importantly, from the very first day I met Lucas, the number above his head wasn't a few hundred or a few thousand. It was an endless infinity sign. I truly believed it meant we were destined to spend the rest of our lives together. That didn't change until the eve of our seventh wedding anniversary, when Lucas suddenly started working late all the time. Even though he never usually wore cologne, his collared shirts began carrying the unfamiliar scent of gardenias. When I confronted him about it, he paused for a second before leaning down to kiss my forehead. "A recent client is going through a tough divorce with her kid. She's been dropping by the office pretty often, so it probably rubbed off by accident." I looked at the unchanged infinity symbol floating above his head and told myself I was just being paranoid. After all, the numbers never lie. That was until another night when Lucas came home late again. Suddenly, the symbol that had never changed began to flicker. Its golden light faded away, and in its place, a bright, blood-red number "3" appeared. That was the moment I knew Lucas and I had no future left.

Lucifer told me my time wasn't up yet and that I shouldn't have died here. The problem was, I'd already died three times. And every single time, it happened after I got married. My first wife was a powerful leather factory owner from out west. But she had a crippling gambling addiction. After blowing through all her assets and my entire life savings, she let the debt collectors cut off three of my fingers to cover her debts. I ended up bleeding to death. My second wife was a respectable, glasses-wearing university professor. She even beat me with class, leaving no bruises and never hitting me in the face. I died from ruptured internal organs. My third wife was a quiet, blue-collar welder. I thought things would finally be good between us after we married. However, she just stood by while her mother, who despised me for being poor, humiliated and controlled my life. When my liver condition flared up, they blocked me from getting medical help, and I died of acute liver failure. I begged Lucifer in tears to give me a few different options. But Lucifer just said firmly, "Your destined wife is one of these three women. It's up to you to make it work. Pick one. Now." I was at a loss for words.

After seven years together, Veronica Monroe canceled our wedding for the fifty-second time. A wall of comments suddenly appeared before my eyes. [Here we go again. Don’t tell me the male lead is still thinking about getting back together with her!] My heart jolted. I couldn’t believe they actually knew. [If this were a normal person, he would’ve found someone else to marry by now!] [My blood pressure is through the roof. Go ask Veronica’s biggest rival if she’ll marry you!] Could I really do that? Uneasy and hesitant, I walked up to Veronica’s biggest rival, Meredith Rodgers, and quietly asked, “Would you marry me right now?” The entire room erupted. The guests all thought I’d lost my mind. But she simply curved her lips into a smile. “Of course I will.” [The male lead finally grew a backbone! Everyone, look!] [Oh my God, if Veronica finds out, she’s going to be furious!]