قصص وروايات قصيرة عن Feel-Good Story وتضم Independence وتدور في Face Slapping

The sales department organized a team-building trip and turned it into a killer-instinct trail race, with a $30,000 prize for the winner. I volunteer with a search and rescue team, and I stayed up all night mapping the safest route with supply points along the way. The new VP they had parachuted in tore up my map right before we set out. "What's the fun in a paved trail? We take the undeveloped Wildman Gorge. That's how you show real killer instinct! "To keep anyone from cheating with GPS, everyone hands over their communication devices." I pointed at the thunderheads on the horizon and tried to stop him. Wildman Gorge floods easily, and going in without radios was suicide. Instead, he smashed my radio to pieces in front of everyone. "You're just jealous that I got to lead this thing, and you want to keep everyone from taking home the prize money, right?" For that $30,000, my coworkers lined up to call me a coward who cared nothing about the team. Fine. I took off my shell jacket and volunteered to stay at base camp at the bottom of the mountain. A storm was coming. If this pack of office wolves wanted to take on a mudslide in Wildman Gorge, I would sit there with a hot cup of tea and wish them a triumphant return.

Right before the syndicate's power handover, I flew back to New York after a year of studying jewelry design in Europe. But the night before the ceremony, my secret boyfriend of three years—the Rossi family's new second-in-command—sent me a text: [Sorry, Chloe. I lost a card game, and you were my chip. You're his problem now.] Before I could even breathe, I got tagged in the family's encrypted dark-web channel. The top thread was blowing up: [The Mafia Boss Just Won a Fat Pig for a Girlfriend!] Pinned right at the top was an old photo of me from a few years ago. Back when I was 180 pounds. The comment section was ruthless: [If the Boss knew what he actually won, he'd regret making that bet.] [I bet a thousand bucks she stays hidden at home. Who's in?] They were all dead sure I wouldn't show up. After all, everyone knew me as the ugly fat girl. The old me would have locked myself in my room and cried, letting my boyfriend walk all over me. But after a year away, he had no idea what kind of surprise I had for him. I had dropped from 180 pounds to a flawless, curve-hugging 105. Model scouts even stopped me on the street to ask if I wanted to walk in Fashion Week. So I checked the betting board, dropped fifty grand on myself showing up on time, and sent my reply: [Fine. I'll play your little game.]

Right after the Christmas holidays, my former boss called me. The moment I picked up, he immediately barked down the line. "Do you know what time it is? Why aren't you here yet? The project on your desk is due today, and if it falls through, can you take responsibility for that? Get your butt over here right now!" He spoke with entitlement, as if I were still his overworked corporate slave standing by at his beck and call. Before I could get a word in, he slammed the phone down. A moment later, human resources called me. "Why aren't you here yet? Mr. Howell is furious! You've always been our most reliable employee. Even if you're unhappy with your bonus, you can't just throw a fit and walk out!" I was unimpressed. "Have you forgotten? I resigned before the holidays!" Today was my first day starting at one of our clients' firms.

After the New Year's holiday, my former boss called. The moment I picked up, she tore into me. "What time do you think it is? Why aren't you here yet? The project is about to be handed over. If it falls through, are you going to take responsibility for it? Get over here now!" She sounded completely entitled, as if I were still the same pushover who came running whenever she called. Before I could say a word, she hung up. Then HR called. "Why aren't you here yet? The boss is furious! You're usually the most reliable one. Even if you're unhappy about your year-end bonus, you can't just walk away from your work!" I laughed and explained, "It's not that I'm refusing to work. I already quit before the holiday!" Today was my first day at the client company.

After our pack lost the war, the survivors spent two years on the run. In the third year, the Wolf Council passed a decree allowing us to be absorbed into new packs. But there was a catch—we had to pass the Trials, a specialized test designed to test our physical fitness, reflexes, and overall abilities. Those who passed would be accepted. Those who didn't would be cast out as rogues for good. One month before the Trials, Vera Cross burst into the gathering, her voice trembling with excitement. "Everyone, stop preparing! I got a spell from a witch—just chant it in your head during the Trials, and you'll pass for sure!" She grinned and pulled out a record. "My friend Lily already took these exact Trials during her pack's routine check last month. She didn't prep at all—just chanted this spell in her head. And guess what? She passed." The record got passed around. Cheers erupted. Last life, I tried to warn them. Told them the official Trials would block all spellwork—that using it would flag them as anomalies, get their qualifications revoked on the spot, and dump them straight into rogue status. No one listened. So I reported the situation to the Council. Vera got her membership revoked. Died out in the wilds. Back then, every single pack member said she deserved it. Thanked me for saving them. But after we settled into the new pack, they cornered me. Doused me in gasoline. Burned me alive. "If you'd just kept your mouth shut, she'd still be alive!" When I opened my eyes again, I was back at the exact moment Vera was rallying everyone to give up on prep.

After three years together, my boyfriend, Walker Ashford, proposed. But right after that, he got cold feet. At our wedding photo shoot, Walker buried his face against my best friend Anna Benedict's shoulder. "The way Valentina looks at me freaks me out," he said. At the jewelry shop, he grabbed Anna's hand and refused to let go. None of it made sense. But my future mother-in-law, Judith Ashford, pulled me aside. "Valentina, why not let Anna take your place in the photos? We can put you in later." Walker's sister, Emma Ashford, pushed Anna forward. "She has better taste. Let her pick the ring for you." I swallowed my hurt and watched in silence as they took my wedding photos and picked out my ring for me. Under the lights, the diamonds glittered so brightly they hurt my eyes. I was about to postpone the wedding when I overheard Judith say to my best friend, "Anna, having Walker pretend to get cold feet was a smart move. Otherwise, how could you two have a wedding of your own without Valentina finding out?" Emma curled her lip. "Valentina is an idiot. She believes everything we tell her." Walker sighed and stroked Anna's hair. "Anna is sick. It's her wish to marry me. If Valentina weren't so controlling, I wouldn't have to keep this wedding a secret from her. Anna gets the wedding. Valentina gets the legal marriage. Sounds fair to me." So that was it. Walker had never gotten cold feet. They had made up the whole thing to fool me. I was done with their lies. I decided to return to Florence and take back my life as a mafia princess. "Dad, I'll marry whoever you choose."

I spent a few minutes in the bathroom during work hours, and my 20,000‑dollar salary was cut down to 3,500 dollars. I went to my boss to demand an explanation. He acted fair‑minded, and every word carried sarcasm. "According to last month's security footage, you spent a total of 40 minutes in the bathroom. Don't tell me you were working there. "Five hundred dollars for every minute you spent in the bathroom. "It’s a new company policy. As a senior employee, you should set an example. Honestly, I went easy on you." I had been one of the company's key employees for ten years, and the deals I brought in had generated over 100 million dollars in revenue. Now, even my most basic rights were taken away. When I did not react, he smiled coldly. "If you don't like it, quit. You really think this company can't function without you? "And don't forget that you still have five years left on your contract. Who's going to hire you?" I did not argue with him. However, when my contract expired five days later, he was the one who panicked.

The night before our engagement party. My fiancé's childhood sweetheart, Isabella, said she had a "family welcome" for me. A little tradition, she said. For a "nobody." She tricked me. Lured me to the family's private boathouse on the lake. Then she opened the floodgates. Let the freezing lake water pour in. Icy water seeped over my ankles. On the shore, guests from the five Chicago families. They held their drinks. They watched me struggle. Watched me fight for my life. She smiled like an angel. Her words were pure poison. "Doesn't Alessia know all about rules? Let's see how low she'll go for Nico." My fiancé, Nico Falconetti, heir to the family, stood by the warm bonfire. Watching me across the dark water. He gave Isabella an indulgent look. Then his eyes met mine. His voice was calm. Arrogant. "Just don't let her die," he told his men. Careless. "A nobody like her needs a lesson. To learn our rules. When she learns her place, I'll pull her out myself." Later, I smashed the window. I crawled ashore. He offered me his warm jacket. I shoved it away. I wiped the water and blood from my face. Then I called my grandfather's Consigliere. "Tell our people. Freeze all credit to the Falconetti family. Cut off their south-side shipping routes. And send the video from tonight to every family on 'The Commission.' I want the Falconetti family wiped from Chicago's map."

When the pack set out on its southward migration, Rebecca Hale, one of our newly appointed young leaders, proposed changing the route at the last minute. She wanted to break away from the main column, take the shortcut past Blackwind Gorge, rest in wild-wolf territory along the way, and live on berries gathered by the roadside. Each wolf would need only half a bag of rations, and we would reach the southern grounds ten days ahead of the main column. Freedom and speed were the whole point. My family had guarded the border of Blackwind Gorge for generations. I knew exactly how deadly that route was. Every year, young wolves who strayed from the pack died in that gorge. Some were flayed by rogues; others became prey for venomous snakes. Newly adult she-wolves were the easiest targets of all. In my past life, I fought with everything I had to stop them. I went from pack to pack, warning each Alpha until they withdrew. In the end everyone gave up the shortcut. Rebecca alone refused to listen. She vanished on her second day in the gorge. A week later, her body was found among the loose rocks. Because I had stopped the others in time, I earned the right to become the pack's priestess. But on the day of my investiture, my mate, Stefan Cross, tore out my throat. "If you hadn't stopped everyone from going with her, Rebecca would never have died alone! "You'll pay for her death with your life!" The packmates I had risked everything to save stood there cheering my death. Then they hurled my body onto the altar. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day Rebecca proposed the detour through Blackwind Gorge.

Everyone knew I was crazy for Mandy Willow, and tragically so. Ever since I fell for her at first sight, my loyalty never wavered as I swore to myself that I'd never marry anyone else. But Frank Young the hellraiser was the one she ever loved! For his sake, she lied to me and gaslighted me for years, even working with him to plan my parents' murder, stealing my sister's organs and all my family's fortune. I died as I learned the truth, overwhelmed with resentment and regret! When I opened my eyes again, I was back in my senior year, when I had confessed my love to her. But this time, I would not let the same thing happen again. Instead of helping her to destroy my own family, I would slowly tear her apart until she was completely destroyed!

The side character, Derek Holloway, poured his heart and soul into every single year of high school. When the moment came to earn a place in the honors program, his childhood best friend, Vivian Sterling, handed the golden ticket straight to Blake Mercer, the male lead. Vivian's voice sounded flat, completely unbothered. "I've really thought this through. If we're in the same class, we'll just distract each other from studying. "Besides, Blake's family is struggling financially. He needs this opportunity way more than you do. Just step aside for him, okay?" I watched Derek step aside for Blake. One hundred and one times. I watched him go home and suffer a brutal beating from both his parents for losing that honors spot. One hundred and one times. I watched him lose his mind while the girl he'd loved since childhood paraded around town with another guy. One hundred and one times. I watched his grades plummet into the gutter, destroying any shot at admission to an Ivy League school. One hundred and one times. I watched him get framed for cheating on SAT, which drove him to jump from the thirty-sixth floor. One hundred and one times. Then I took complete control of his body. Vivian had no idea who she was dealing with. I came from an era torn apart by war and gunfire. I didn't give a damn about petty teenage romance. Anything worth taking, anything worth fighting for, I would fight for and claim every last one.

"On results day, I'll have a way to turn back time and take us all back to the exam room!" Lily Parker, the prettiest girl in our class, stood at the front of the room, threw up an arm, and shouted it at the top of her voice. "Sign up with me! Just $999. If it's a scam, I'll pay you back ten times over! "You'll even get a polished answer key for the college entrance exams. Guaranteed not to get flagged for cheating!" The classroom erupted. In the corner, I didn't even look up. I'd found the same method three days earlier. And I'd decided against it. For one simple reason: time inside that exam room was completely broken. Thirty seconds for English. Twelve hours for math. And between papers, three days and nights of hunger and thirst you couldn't survive twice.

I was supposed to be nothing more than a doomed side character in someone else's story. After I woke up to the truth, though, I became the male lead's best friend instead—and ended up with the wealthy girl who had always loved him, leaving him free to live happily ever after with the school's golden girl. Ten years later, though, he made a very public announcement that he was single and back in town. Then, in the old class group chat that had been inactive for a long time, he sent two messages. [I'm back. We should all get together sometime.] [@Whitney Charlton, you'll be there, right?] The group chat exploded instantly. After all, everyone still remembered the golden boy we had known back then: the charming, arrogant guy who had been the center of attention everywhere he went. When graduation came, he had not chosen the aloof top student who had pursued him for four years. Even after all those years, it was still one of those things everyone wished had ended differently. I glanced down at Whitney, asleep beside me, and raised an eyebrow. I found it regrettable too. After all, I had been waiting ten years for this opportunity.

I had waited a month for Ascendant Group's college recruitment offer. When it finally arrived, Yvie Smith walked over arm in arm with another man while she smiled at me. "Carl, you should let Kevin take that offer instead." As I turned to her, everyone around me was holding back their laughter, waiting for me to cave and agree, like I had always done. It had been ten years. I would give her anything whenever she asked, from competition qualification spots and postgraduate recommendations to ten grand worth of hard-earned money… She was used to it, and I had since made peace with it. And now, she was looking at me loftily, speaking as if she were giving alms. "It's the same thing every time. How is it different now?" I looked at her haughty leer and suddenly laughed. "Who the hell are you to make decisions for me?"

After graduating from college, my daughter Zoe Dunne turned into a complete deadbeat. She was twenty-three, unemployed, and spent most of her days sleeping at home. She barely bothered to brush her hair or wash her face. Even getting out of bed for a meal seemed like too much effort. I worried constantly about how she was ever going to survive on her own. Then, one day, Michelle Tyler showed up at our door. She was my husband George Dunne’s longtime coworker. Also, as it turned out, she was the woman he had been sleeping with for decades. She had a son with her who was a year older than Zoe. Before I could say a word, George jabbed a finger in my face and started yelling, “All these years, and you couldn’t even give me a son! “Take your useless daughter and get out of my house. Neither of you is getting a cent from me!” With that, he flung the divorce agreement in my face, then put an arm around Michelle and sat down beside her. I stared at the divorce agreement in shock. My hands were trembling uncontrollably. Zoe wandered over with a yawn and dropped a thick stack of documents in front of him. “You’ve been cheating on Mom for decades, and we have more than enough evidence to prove it. You can wait for the court papers. “Also, yes, you two are getting divorced, but you’re the one walking away with nothing. You should also start paying Mom back for everything you owe her.”

I accompany my pregnant wife, Noelle Sutton, to meet her biological family. At the celebration banquet, Maeve Sutton, the adopted daughter of the Suttons, splashes half a glass of red wine in my face. Then, with tears in her eyes, she says to Noelle, "Noelle, I know you hate me for taking your place, but you can't just bring some broke nobody home just to disgust Mom and Dad!" My mother-in-law, Penny Miller, points at Noelle and snaps, "Get rid of that thing in your stomach, or don't expect us to acknowledge you as our daughter!" Kenneth Wright steps up and openly leers at my wife. "What future do you have with a loser like him? You should come with me instead." The entire hall watches me. I pull my trembling wife behind me, take out a napkin, and calmly wipe the wine from my face. "I was willing to let you treat me like an ordinary man," I say icily. "But you're the ones who pushed your luck."

My girlfriend's male best friend had only been abroad for two weeks, but when he came back, he claimed that he was transgender. He stopped wearing underwear and openly slept in my girlfriend's bed. He used my girlfriend's razor without asking and joked that they should both shave themselves completely smoothly. He even insisted on going into the women's restroom with my girlfriend whenever they went out together. When I could not take it anymore, I confronted him and demanded to know what he was playing at. He simply rolled his eyes and said, "Come on, man. I may have been born male, but I identify as a woman. Can a man obsessed with competing against other guys stop making our friendship sound dirty?" When I saw him walk into the women's restroom again, I let out a cold chuckle. I turned around and called my underworld-connected father. "Dad, send a few of your women over." Did he not say he was a woman? Fine! Let's see how far you're willing to take this game.

On my 18th birthday, I take the fall for my sister, Josephine Walker, and plead guilty to felony hit-and-run. My parents fall to their knees before me, kneeling on the floor until they bleed. "Edwin, you've saved our family! When you get out, we'll spend the rest of our lives making it up to you!" Josephine, too, wraps her arms around me and sobs until she passes out. "I'll never forget what you've done for me, Ed. I owe you everything," she says. I endure the humiliation for their sake, clinging to the promises they made me. At last, after serving my full sentence, I walk free. At the dinner table, years of exhaustion catch up with me, and I let out a quiet sigh. Hearing that, Dad slams his fork down on the table. "What's with the sighing? Is the food not good enough for you? You think we've had it easy while you've been gone all these years?" "Oh, so now you're too good for our food? Maybe prison didn't teach you anything. We should send you back for a few more years!" Mom exclaims as tears well up in her eyes. Beside them, Josephine bursts into tears. "What right do you have to feel sorry for yourself? Because of you, I can't even show my face around here! Everyone laughs at us. They all say I have a murderer for a brother!" "You're nothing but trouble! You should've died in that accident!" Then the door slams shut. I look down at the cancer diagnosis in my hands, the paper soaked through with rain. And strangely, I feel calm. Maybe it's for the best. I can finally pay for that lost life.

When I was five, the wealthy Whitmores adopted me from an orphanage so their only son, Caleb, would have someone to grow up with. The first time we met, Caleb pulled his best friend Audrey Ellis over and gave me half his candy. After that, the three of us were inseparable. That changed in the summer after our college entrance exams, when Audrey confessed her feelings to me—and I accepted. Caleb quietly chose a university a thousand miles away. The night before he was supposed to leave, he went drinking alone. Someone dragged him into the alley behind the bar and beat and humiliated him until he died. Audrey and I spent the next two decades burdened by guilt. At forty, I was diagnosed with ALS. The night before I died, she held me and cried so hard she shook. "Julian, I love you. I always have." "But if there is a next life, I have to stay with Caleb. I can't let anything happen to him again." When I opened my eyes, I was back. I had returned to the day Audrey was going to tell me she loved me.

The boss' daughter, Pamela Thompson, returns from overseas to take over the family business. The moment she sees me growing vegetables in an empty lot on the factory grounds, she covers her nose in disgust and sneers. "Our factory is a flagship company in this industrial hub!" she barks. "What kind of riffraff grows vegetables here? Do you think this is your personal farmer's market? Fire him, scrape that patch clean, and pave it over with concrete!" "And you!" she snaps, pointing to another worker. "Aren't you getting a little too old? You don't exactly fit our corporate image. You're fired too!" I take off my work uniform, load up my bicycle with my homegrown harvest, and pedal away. Behind me, the workers are all dumbfounded. One after another, they strip off their uniforms as well and fall in line behind me. "Where Drew goes, we go!" This time, it's the spoiled heiress who's left staring in utter disbelief.