Feel-Good Story Imagination Short Stories & Mistress Superpowers Novels

Our SAT results came back, and our parents booked a private room at a Michelin-starred steakhouse to celebrate. Over dinner, they began discussing how we should apply to the same university so we could keep looking out for each other. I looked across the table at Derek and asked politely, “Derek, which university are you planning to apply to?” The moment the words left my mouth, comments suddenly flashed across my vision. [Here she goes again. Is this desperate side character going to apply to the same university as the male lead?] [I feel so bad for him. Just to keep the close ties between the families, he has to be okay with her clinging to him for three whole years!] [Don’t worry. He’s promised the prom queen, Eliza, to go to Columbo University together. He's definitely going to name a school thousands of miles away just to brush her off. I can’t wait to see her breakdown!] Derek stared at me, his brow furrowed as he sneered. “Sofia, what business is it of yours where I go? I’m applying to Southwest University, all the way to the South. Could you please stop following me around?” I met his gaze and nodded calmly. Then, I turned my attention toward the quiet young man standing near the entrance of the private room, holding the heavy coats and car keys for Derek’s family. He was the driver’s son. “Julian, which university are you going to?” I asked. “I’d like to go to the same one as you.” The sneer on Derek's face froze, and both of our parents stared in utter disbelief. None of them had any idea that the humble, quiet boy wearing a cheap hearing aid, whom Derek mocked as “the deaf boy” day in and day out, was actually the long-lost son of New City’s wealthiest tycoon, missing for eighteen whole years. And all those years I spent shamelessly dropping by the family's estate had nothing to do with clinging to Derek. I had only done it so that I could catch a few extra glimpses of Julian.

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."

An ambulance rushed in during my night shift, carrying a pregnant woman in critical condition due to severe bleeding. I was about to head into the operating room when I suddenly saw a stream of comments appearing in front of me. "Don't go in there! That pregnant woman is your wife. She had sex with her side dude in the wilderness, and that's what caused the bleeding!" "Your wife is even planning to fake her death and run away with him. She's also setting you up for medical malpractice so you'll end up in prison!" "That baby isn't even yours. And your in-laws are already on their way with the police to arrest you!" After reading those comments, my expression turned dark. At that same moment, I heard the nurse urgently calling me to hurry.

For ten years, I raised the finest bodyguard money could buy, and for a nanny's daughter, he turned his blade on me. I didn't spare a thought for the years between us. I had his tendons cut, his skills stripped away, and I threw him out of Meridian City. The live comments practically caught fire. [Somebody help, Celeste Ward has gone too far! Julian protected her for ten years, and the one time he didn't put her first, she's going to ruin him?] [This is the kind of love that terrifies me — if she can't have him, she'd rather destroy him. What did Julian even do wrong, trying to save the woman he loves?] [Run, Julian! A viper like her doesn't deserve your loyalty. Go to Amber — she's the one who can actually save you!] Me? Going too far? A traitor who turns on his own mistress for an outsider — if anything, I went easy on him. I gave a cold laugh, tore up his lifetime contract in front of everyone, and had every last one of his belongings burned. Then I went straight to the underground fight club and picked out the meanest, most reckless guy I could find. A month later, word reached Julian. He fought his way through every guard at my gate, half-dead by the time he made it to the door. He dropped to his knees in front of me, eyes rimmed red, clutching the hem of my skirt. "Miss Ward," he said, "that mongrel covered in tattoos — what does he have that I don't?"

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.]

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!"

"Honey, the soles of my shoes are made of sheepskin. I can't get them wet, so come pick me up right away." Just as I send a WhatsApp message to my wife, Cora Harden, a barrage of floating comments explodes in front of me in the downpour. "I really can't stand a high-maintenance second male lead like Allen Brandt. Cora, the female lead, is a billionaire CEO, and yet she lets him boss her around like a lapdog." "The male lead has already joined the company. Once Cora sees how sweet and thoughtful he is, she's dumping that loser Allen for good." "This is hilarious. After the divorce, Allen can't do anything, so he'll end up as some cheap thirst-trap live streamer." Staring at the screen of venomous insults, I clench my fists in anger. Just then, Cora arrives with an umbrella, half of her bespoke dress soaked from the rain. Noticing my whitened knuckles, she pauses for a moment, then timidly tugs at my sleeve. "Sorry, darling. If I had driven any faster, I would have been speeding."

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.”