Melodramatic Short Stories & Independence Cheating Novels

Zach Shaw and I had been in a long-distance relationship for four years when his study partner, Amy Lewis, appeared in the frame during our video call. Amy pursed her lips together and said, "Megan, Zach still hasn't finished today's homework yet." I froze. I had just wanted to say we would only talk for ten minutes when Amy cut in again. "By the way, I filtered out the celebrity gossip you sent him today. He gets distracted as soon as he sees it, and he's only half as effective then." She tilted her head and then said in an innocent tone. "You won't blame me for meddling, will you?" Zach looked down and flipped through his book without saying anything. I was once again stunned. I thought of the sunset photos, the street food stalls, and the pictures of new dresses I had sent him, the ones he had never answered. She had cleared them all away. A heavy weight settled in my chest. Zach finally raised his hand. "Amy helps me sort my messages. It's a good thing." Amy leaned closer to the screen and lowered her voice. "I heard you only scored 1,200 on the SAT, but Zach scored 1,400..." She paused, as if she was figuring out her words. "He always says he wants to go to grad school in the same city as you, but your scores are so far apart. He has to lower his standards for you." Then, she stepped back to Zach's side and patted his shoulder. "Work hard. I'm here with you." Zach looked up and nodded at her. His expression was soft and natural, as if they had already gotten used to standing next to each other. My throat tightened, and I felt my chest slowly becoming tighter and tighter. "Get some rest, then," I said as I forced myself to keep my pride and ended the call. My phone screen still showed the last message I had sent him. [It's raining today. Remember to wear something warm.] There was no reply. Just like the past four years. So, he had not been absent at all. I was the absent one.

My son, Scott Gould, suddenly tells me that he has leukemia. Then, he goes on to say that his biggest wish is to see Ivanna Newman in a wedding dress. My husband, Theodore Gould, agrees with Scott. "I'll hold a wedding with Ivanna. Once Scott is done with his treatment, we'll get remarried." I gladly agree to the request and divorce Theodore. Not long after, I learn from Scott's social media that he's attending the wedding of Theodore and his childhood sweetheart, Ivanna. The caption he writes says, "I'm so happy for Dad. I can't help but shed tears for true love." I smile and turn off my phone. Holding the hand of the person next to me, I board a plane to Wismuth.

Luna Baxter and Simon Fulmer have been married for five years. One day, she receives a provocative voice message and intimate photos from Simon's first love. They're sent from his phone, too. "I've only been back in the country for half a year, but he took the bait as soon as I laid it. He's prepared blue fireworks for me tonight, but I don't like the color blue. To avoid wastage, you can have them on your wedding anniversary." Luna and Simon's fifth wedding anniversary comes a month later. She looks out the window at the blue fireworks lighting up the sky. Then, her gaze lands on the empty seat across from her. Simon's first love challenges her again. She sends her a photo of them having a candlelight dinner. Luna doesn't cry or kick up a fuss. She silently signs a divorce agreement and asks Simon's secretary to prepare for a wedding. "What are the bride's and groom's names, Mrs. Fulmer?" "Simon Fulmer and Sophie Sutherland." Seven days later, she flies to Naavi to give them her blessings. She throws them a wedding.

When it's almost time to get off work, Mason Lakeworth's coworkers drag him over to the window and point excitedly at a gorgeous woman downstairs. She's shown up outside their newspaper's building at exactly the same time for seven days in a row. "I did some digging! That's Lindsay Statham, the heiress of Heronvale's richest family. No wonder she drives a supercar with a custom vanity plate!" "And she looks good, too… Too bad she was set up and forced into getting married at a young age five years ago. I wonder which guy hit the jackpot and landed a woman like that." "But seriously, she's been coming to our crappy building for a full week. What is she even here for? Mason, you're always the last to leave. Have you seen who she's waiting for?" Mason stands off to the side in silence, saying nothing for a long time. His coworkers don't really expect him to answer anyway. They all start talking over each other, throwing out ideas. "Wait, Mason—you've been desperate for cash lately, right? Here's your golden ticket. Our new finance column is still short on a star interview. If you can land an exclusive with Lindsay Statham, the boss will definitely give you a huge bonus. You won't have to worry about your son's medical bills anymore!" Mason still doesn't respond. After a while, he withdraws his gaze from the window and finally speaks, his voice so calm it's almost numb. "My son died two weeks ago." He pauses, then adds, "And Lindsay… is my wife—the one I've been secretly married to for the past five years and the woman you're all so curious about."

I see an anonymous poll online after Aidan Spencer returns to me and our family. "Does a man feel guiltier to his wife or mistress after cheating?" 99% of the voters chose "mistress". I turn to Aidan. "Do you agree with this?" He puts down his book, a hint of indescribable fatigue in his cool gaze. "I'm already back with you, Lily. What else do you want from me?"

I took my husband's suggestion and got myself a college-aged boyfriend. Only then did I understand why my husband never came home whenever he was with his college-aged girlfriend. In simple terms? It was too damn good. I let the young man stay in our house. I let him wear my husband's pajamas. I let him drink my husband's wine. I even gave him my husband's research data to help him write his thesis. I stood my husband up on a date so I could celebrate my boyfriend's 100th day with me. He responded by shoving me onto the bed, his eyes bloodshot. "Today's our third wedding anniversary, Madeline! Why do you only seem interested in spending time with him instead of me?" I stared at him in confusion. "What? You're the one who said we had an open relationship and that I could take another lover too!" I shot back. "I'm just doing exactly what you told me to!"

Lena Fields was my best friend. When I found out her boyfriend had cheated on her, my mate and I rushed straight over to back her up. Lena and I clawed at that homewrecker’s face while my mate, Garrett Blackwood, held the cheating jerk down. On the way back to the pack, the three of us looked one another over. We were covered in claw marks, and we burst out laughing. Lena laughed until she started crying. “You two had better never break your mate bond. Otherwise, who am I supposed to tag along with?” Garrett rolled his eyes at her. “We’re fated mates chosen by the Moon Goddess. Only death can separate us.” After that, I helped Lena settle in the Windwolf pack. I stayed by her side through the pain of breaking her mate bond and encouraged her to start a new life. I was so busy helping her that I even neglected my mate. Every time Garrett got jealous, he’d pull me into his arms and complain, “Elise, do you even remember that I’m your mate?” Then Alpha Rowan Blackwood sent Garrett to the border for three months. When he came back, we couldn’t wait to throw our arms around each other. The moment I sank into his arms, I felt a sharp sting where he’d marked me. I also caught another werewolf’s scent on him. I shoved Garrett away, furious. “You cheated on me! I’m breaking our mate bond!” Then I grabbed Lena, who was standing behind Garrett. “Come on, Lena! You stayed in the Windwolf pack for me, so now you’re leaving with me!” But the second I said it, she shook me off. I turned around, stunned, and saw Lena step back to Garrett’s side, her eyes full of guilt.

The night before our wedding, Desmond Arlington got jumped out of nowhere. By the time I made it to the hospital, he stared at me like I was a total stranger. Doctor said it was memory loss—some brain rattle from the hit. Temporary, supposedly. So I went full nostalgia tour, dragging him back to all our spots, hoping something would click. Then one day at the hospital, I caught him running his mouth with his buddy. "Rhea's trying so hard. Doesn't that do anything for you?" "Do what? I'm over it. Same spots, same girl. The new ones are way more fun." "So why marry her? Just call it off and live your life." He snapped, "Shut up. I LOVE Rhea. I'd never bail on the wedding. I'm just... pushing it back a bit." I looked down at the test results—zero issues. Everything normal. And that's when it hit me: you can't help a faker.

My childhood sweetheart who promised to marry me the moment I graduated proposed to Camille Willow, my sister, during my graduation ceremony. At that moment, Dennis Malcolm, the most eligible and admired bachelor in Blington City's elite circle, stepped forward and confessed his love for me immediately after my childhood sweetheart's proposal was accepted. For five years after our marriage, Dennis showered me with devotion, treating me with such tenderness that it felt as though I were the center of his world. But everything shattered the day I overheard a conversation between him and his close friend. "Dennis, now that Camille's on top, are you really going to keep pretending with Tracy?" "It doesn't matter. I'll never have Camille. Besides, as long as I'm here, she'll never disrupt Camille's happiness," he answered. The paper notes he held dear, each one carefully preserved, revealed a harsh truth. Each one carried her name, accompanied by heartfelt wishes: "May Camille be released from her burdens. May she find peace within herself." "May Camille achieve all she dreams of, and may her heart love freely." "Camille, we were never meant to be together in this life. I can only hope that in another, we will walk side by side." … Five years of devotion shattered in a single moment of clarity. I crafted a false identity and planned an elaborate drowning to vanish without a trace. From this day forward, in this life and all others, we shall never cross paths again.

Jonathan Shaw is busy taking his mentor's daughter, who's burning up a fever, to the hospital on the day I fall. I'm pregnant. I need to undergo surgery to stabilize the pregnancy, but it's risky. However, Jonathan's tone is icy on the other end of the line. "I know you've always been biased against my mentor, Tessa. Still, do you think you can use something like this as an excuse to get me there?" I lose hope in him as a lone tear rolls down my face. "Don't bother saving the child. Help me abort it." My love for Jonathan leaves with our child.

Three years back, a crash wrecked Rhea's hearing—and the future she'd built her life around. At her lowest point, Eddie stayed by her side like a hero, pulling her out of the shadows. But the second she got her hearing back and thought she could finally tell him... she heard the truth: he'd planned the whole thing. For his beloved. So she could win. Yeah, he was already engaged. To that girl. Rhea didn't cry. Didn't scream. Just picked up her phone. "Grandpa, I'm ready. I'm taking back the Cliburn name. And I'm entering the international piano competition as your heir."

I had saved Emma, an Omega, from a pack of rogue wolves. James, my Alpha and fated mate, welcomed her into our pack. But she fell for him anyway. She clung to him, following him everywhere he went. Whenever James mentioned her, his face twisted with disgust. "If I had known she would become this much trouble, I never would have done her that favor." On the day of our marking ceremony, Emma burst in again. She knocked over a candle stand, and flames raced through the room. I failed to escape. Toxic smoke filled my lungs until I could barely breathe. When they pulled me out, the healer said my wolf had gone dormant. I might never wake up. James hated Emma after that. He dragged her to my bedside every day and forced her to repent. He said every cruel thing he could think of. Then Emma held a silver dagger to her throat. James grabbed the blade from her hand. Blood dripped from his palm. "Emma, you'll never repay what you owe me in this lifetime.I haven't given you permission to die." Emma threw herself into his arms again. This time, James didn't push her away. They held each other tightly beside my hospital bed. No one saw the tear slide from the corner of my eye. In the end, I chose to leave our pack. James searched for me like he had lost his mind.

I watched as my boyfriend put the ring that he had promised to give me on Sophie White's finger at her birthday party. When I questioned him, Mark Goodman shrugged nonchalantly. "I promised to marry Sophie. Since that's not happening now, the ring is compensation." I was left speechless from rage and so disenchanted that I decided to cut all ties with him. Everyone was cheering when Mark later showed up at a gathering with Sophie, both wearing a matching set of rings. But when they all thought I would make a scene, I smiled faintly. "You two really deserve each other. When are you getting married? Do send me an invite."

On the day of the court hearing, the judge went through the routine questioning: “You’ve only been married for three years. Has the marriage truly broken down irretrievably?” I bit my lip with a bitter smile, slipped off my wedding ring, and placed it on the table. “In our three years of marriage, we’ve lived apart for every single day. “Your Honor, do you really think there’s any love left between us?” Throughout our five years of dating, I was the one pinned at the top of her chat list. I was her emergency contact. I was even the sole beneficiary of her insurance policy. I thought I had found the right person—the love of my life. But on our wedding day, she took a phone call, and her face turned deathly pale. When I asked what was wrong, she claimed her mother was gravely ill. Dropping everything, she bought a ticket and flew back to her hometown that very day. For the next three years, she sent me daily photos of her meals, yet her mother was never in a single picture. My heart ached for her, so I offered to quit my job and move there to help care for her mother. But she declined gently, saying she couldn’t bear to let me suffer. It wasn’t until a month ago that I stumbled upon a viral vlog channel of a cancer patient. There she was—Amelia Rose Whitmore—appearing right in Austin Carter’s videos, accompanied by a heartwarming caption: “She’s there when I wake up. “She’s there for every meal. “She’s the one whose hand I hold so tightly.” What about me then? For 1,095 days and nights, I had no one but myself. She lied to me. The judge struck the gavel and asked one final question: “Have you truly made up your mind?” I gave a firm, heavy nod. When the official divorce decree was handed down, I stared at the paper as tears finally came streaming down my face. Goodbye, Amelia. I’m setting you free. And I’m setting myself free, too.

The night before my mom, Josie Swift, remarries another man, she suddenly barges into my room. "Colin, I'm getting married tomorrow. I don't need you to be my ring bearer anymore." The makeup artist is carefully applying concealer to my left cheek, so I don't catch what she says at first. Mom frowns, her voice laced with frustration and disdain. "Don't bother. The scar on your face won't just disappear like that. The more you try to cover it, the more hideous it looks! "The guests attending my wedding tomorrow are important business associates of Gavin's. Are you trying to embarrass me on purpose? You know how hard it is for me to marry him with you tagging along. They are already gossiping about me behind my back. It's so humiliating." The makeup artist pauses, then awkwardly steps outside. I stare expressionlessly at my reflection in the mirror, saying nothing. My stepfather, Gavin Dunn, stands outside, his head bowed as he adjusts his son Chris Dunn's bow tie. He shows absolutely no reaction to what Mom has just said. Mom sighs and slips into her usual self-pitying tone. "You've been a good boy ever since you were little. You should know how hard it is for me. I need to look dignified and presentable. Tomorrow, Chris will be my ring bearer, and the three of us will take a family photo on stage. You stay backstage and don't cause trouble for me, okay?"

I wheel myself into the birthday celebration that Wales Price has thrown for me. The atmosphere is originally lively, but a brief silence descends when everyone sees me. The guests are there for different purposes, but celebrating my birthday is not one of them. "Is that Mr. Price's crippled fiancée, Joey Hertza?" "Yeah, but the one he really loves is Anna Giovanni. I saw them kissing in a corner earlier." They use their wine glasses to block their mouths as they speak loudly. They think I'm still the crippled deaf I used to be. They don't know that I regained my hearing last week. I can hear every mocking comment they make. Meanwhile, Wales stands there and allows it to happen. He doesn't stop the guests from talking about me. He seems to have forgotten that I only ended up like this while protecting him. I shoved him away when the accident happened and got trapped underneath the car myself. When I was rescued, Wales swore to stay with me and care for me for life. It's only been three short years since then, but he's already changed. I receive a message on my phone. "Ms. Hertza, the lifelike corpse that you've ordered is now complete. Reply to this message with your confirmation, and your death-faking service will be immediately effective. We will send the corpse to your and Mr. Price's wedding in five days." I don't even hesitate as I reply with my confirmation. Enjoy your wedding, Wales.

My wife, Lily Tanner, is a mortician. She's trying to avoid getting fired during her pregnancy, so she keeps locking herself in the morgue. I may be her husband and colleague, but even I am not allowed inside. I don't want her to work too hard, so in the middle of the night, I sneak into the morgue to do her checks for her. However, she reacts by going berserk and sounding the alarm. Ever since then, I've been very careful around her, fearing that it may affect her pregnancy. Later on, with Lily repeatedly receiving praise from the deceased's family, our department decides to hold a commendation ceremony for her. The whole family seems relieved. However, as soon as Lily receives her award, I ask her for a divorce. The room instantly falls silent. Tearing off the medal on her chest, she complains in a wounded tone, "I'm working myself to the bone even when I'm pregnant, and I'm doing all this to give our child a better life. You're worried that I'll outperform you and overtake you as the top mortician in the industry, aren't you?" I look away from her, a cold smile forming on my lips. "Spend the rest of your life with those bodies, then. I don't want the child anymore, and I'm definitely divorcing you."

My Alpha mate Derek secretly inherited his sister-in-law Sarah after his brother's death. On the surface, I was his Luna, but in reality, Sarah was the one who truly held his heart. He praised me as the most exceptional Luna, tasking me with caring for all pack members, yet when Sarah tended to an injured male wolf, his jealousy flared so violently that he bit off the poor wolf's paw. In public, he proclaimed me as his beloved Luna to the entire pack, while keeping Sarah hidden safely in the shadows. When enemy wolves kidnapped me after discovering my identity, I desperately reached out through our mind link, begging for help. His response cut deeper than any physical wound: "Olivia, Sarah is carrying my pup. We'll tell everyone it's my brother's son. I must protect her and the baby without leaving her side for even a moment." "Just endure for a few days. Once Sarah's morning sickness improves, I'll lead all our warriors to rescue you." In the days that followed, I sent countless pleas for help through our link, but received nothing in return. Eventually, our connection shattered completely. For an entire year, those wolves imprisoned and tortured me. They broke my hind legs and ripped out my fangs, stripping me of my wolf's dignity. Derek never came for me. When I finally escaped and stumbled back to our territory, blood-soaked and broken, I discovered my daughter locked in the silver prison where rogue wolves were kept. She was being torn apart as food, her small body covered in wounds. Meanwhile, my mate—my pup's father—was joyfully celebrating the first birthday of his and Sarah's pup, announcing that Sarah's child would become the pack's heir. Tears streaming down my face, I gathered my skeletal little pup in my arms. "It’s OK, sweetie. I'll find you a better dad."

For the five years I was married to my mafia husband, Dante, I never once showed my face to the Moretti family. I thought it was Dante’s way of protecting me. Until a family meeting record landed in my hands by mistake. It said Dante Moretti had formally married Gianna Romano. The date was five years ago. When I saw that name, I froze. She was Dante’s most trusted capo. She’d saved his life. She was also in love with him. Five years ago, she’d been against Dante marrying me. While I was performing on stage, she deliberately sent a spotlight crashing down and destroyed my career as a pianist. Afterward, she cried and said she hadn’t meant to. Dante believed her. He couldn’t send her to prison, but he swore that from then on, he’d never let Gianna appear in front of me again. I didn’t trust Gianna, but I trusted Dante. Now I’d found out that on the very day my husband made that promise to me, he married her. I clutched that thin sheet of paper as the warmth slowly drained from my body. I didn’t go into hysterics or demand answers. Instead, I took out my phone and opened an email I’d received three days earlier—an invitation from the Aurellian Ministry of Culture to apply for citizenship through its exceptional talent program. I tapped “Accept.” Seven days from now, my name would vanish from this country without a trace.

The pills I keep by my bedside have been swapped with vitamins. I almost die after getting a heart attack. After the stent surgery, I ask my husband, Evan Whitmore, to find out who did it. I just want the truth. However, he doesn't even look up and just brushes me off. "It was just a mistake. Cecilia probably grabbed the wrong bottle. She bought those vitamins for me. "Don't push this. She has asthma. She can't handle stress." I stare at him in shock, my chest tightening. I can't tell if the pain is from my healing heart or from the words he just threw at me. Cecilia Monroe is his secretary, and he always takes her side. That moment is when I realize that our five years of marriage mean nothing to him at all.