Cerita Pendek Melodramatic & Novel Independence Marriage

Everyone told me how lucky I was. I was nothing special, yet somehow, I'd married Julian Ashford, the campus heartthrob who went on to become a once-in-a-generation surgical talent. My best friend, Nora Hayes, had always been the prettiest girl in school. Julian and I had been married for seven years, and everyone thought he adored me. At our wedding, he had even announced in front of all our guests that he would grant Nora one wish. It bothered me a little, but Julian simply cupped my face and looked at me with such sincerity that all my doubts disappeared. "Lena, I love you so much that everyone you care about matters to me too. Besides, Nora's a single mom raising a kid on her own. It's not easy for her." I cried that day, convinced I'd married the best man in the world. Seven years later, at 28 weeks pregnant, I was on my way to another prenatal appointment when I finally saw the truth for myself. "You're such a good boy, Charlie. You know, you were the wish Mommy asked Daddy for. Even when your little sister arrives, Mommy and Daddy will still love you just as much." Julian ruffled Charlie's hair affectionately, his other arm wrapped protectively around Nora. My fingers tightened around my phone until they hurt. I felt as if all the blood in my body had suddenly turned cold. On the screen was a message Julian had sent me only ten minutes earlier. "Hey babe, got called into emergency surgery. I'll definitely come with you next time." Next time. It was always next time. I was already seven months pregnant, and he hadn't attended a single appointment with me, even though his department was only one wing away. I stared at the three of them, looking every bit like a perfect little family. Julian, there won't be a next time.

On the night of our ninth wedding anniversary, my husband—Damian Grant, the man who ruled the mafia by day and once ruled my heart by night—did not bring me roses. He gave the bouquet that should have been mine to Serena Lane, his personal assistant. Beneath the chandelier where we once danced on our wedding night, he turned to me with that same cold charm he once used to whisper sweet nothings in my ear. “She's pregnant.” Finally, everything fell into place. “She's a picky eater. From today onward, you’ll cook three meals a day for her. And no repeats. “She’s sensitive and hates sleeping alone, so you’ll need to move your things into the guest room.” The room fell silent. I did not raise my voice, nor did I shed a single tear. I simply picked up my packed suitcase and walked to the door. The butler tried to stop me, but Damian did not even blink. “She’ll come back.” He lazily swirled the wine in his glass. “She’ll come back crying and begging within three days.” Our guests burst out laughing. They placed a million-dollar bet right in front of me. They were betting on whether I would be back before the night was over, begging Damian to let me back in like a pathetic stray dog with my tail between my legs. However, they did not know I had already received the family heirloom from my real father. I booked my flight to get far, far away from everyone I used to know. This time, I really left.

I am halfway through filling out the marriage application with Luca Moretti when his phone rings. He glances at the screen, and the moment he sees the caller's name, his expression changes. "I have something urgent to take care of. We'll register our marriage another day," he says after answering it. Before I can say anything, Luca is already on his feet. A moment later, he hurries out of city hall, leaving me sitting there alone with the unfinished application in front of me. All because his childhood friend, Rosa Conti, has woken up from a nightmare. A little while later, my phone buzzes. Luca has sent me a text. "Rosa is extremely upset. I need to stay with her. I'm not coming back today." I stare at the message, my fingers tightening around my phone. This isn't the first time Luca has abandoned me for Rosa. There have been countless occasions when he's chosen her over me. Every time, I've argued with him, cried, and eventually forgiven him when he comes back. But this time is different. For once, I'm not going to argue. I'm not going to wait for him to come back, and I certainly won't forgive him and pretend everything is fine like I always have before. Under the sympathetic gaze of the clerk, I quietly push the marriage application aside and pull out my phone. I scroll through my contacts until I find the name of someone I haven't spoken to in a very long time. I stare at the number for a moment. Then I type my message. "Come to City Hall now. Let's get married."

The day my parents traveled all the way from home to discuss the wedding arrangements, the Miller family—led by Grayson Miller—showed up late. After my third call went unanswered, my mom forced a smile and tried to comfort me. "Maybe they're stuck in traffic. It's no big deal. Your dad and I don't mind waiting." And wait we did—for three hours. Their expressions slowly shifted from eager excitement to quiet sorrow. My dad kept tugging at the stiff, ill-fitting suit he rarely wore. Finally, he couldn't hold it in anymore. His eyes reddened, and his voice trembled as he asked, "Sweetheart… does it have to be him? "I'm not trying to break you two up. It's just—you'll be thousands of miles away from us. If you ever get hurt, your mom and I… we won't be there in time to wipe your tears." My nails dug into my palms. Still, I smiled, helped my parents to their feet, and said: "Dad, Mom, let's go home. Forget the engagement. I don't want it anymore."

The day before my period, I found a note on my fiancé's phone. [Her period starts tomorrow. I already packed pads and painkillers in her bag.] I smiled. It was such a small thing, but it felt thoughtful. The next day, a dull ache twisted in my lower stomach. Pale and uncomfortable, I dug through my crossbody bag. Nothing. Dark red blood stained my pants. Students pointed behind me and whispered with awkward laughs. I figured he'd just forgotten at the last minute. Then the new intern teacher posted on social media. [Just started working, and my supervising teacher is literally the sweetest! He even got me pads and painkillers. This period has been pain-free!] The photo showed a pack of pads, an ibuprofen tablet, and a mug of ginger tea. The painkillers were mine—the ones I'd kept stocked at home for years because of my cramps. The pads were the only brand my skin could tolerate. I turned off my phone and stared at the engagement ring on my finger for a long time. Then I stood up and headed to the principal's office to apply for the overseas teacher exchange program. Seven years. He still couldn't remember my cycle. And now, he never would have to.

There are only 12 minutes left until the lucky moment for me to leave my family home as a bride. Charles Lumley finally makes it past the games and hands me my bouquet. My relatives crowd around the doorway, urging him on. "Hurry up and take your bride to the car! The lucky moment is almost here!" With red-rimmed eyes, Mom carefully straightens my veil. Just as we're about to leave, I hear my bridesmaid, Winnie Simpson, cry out behind me. "Wait! My eyeliner is smudged. I need a quick touch-up!" I stop in my tracks, and Charles comes to a halt too. "Sure. No rush," he says. As Winnie rummages through her makeup bag, she smiles at me. "Don't worry, Nat. I'll be quick. I wouldn't want to embarrass you at your wedding by showing up with ruined makeup." Then, as casually as if it's the most natural thing in the world, she hands her bag to Charles. "Hold this for me." He takes it. The room falls silent. Mom's face grows paler by the second. I look at him. "Charles, the lucky moment for me to leave is 8:58 am. If we leave now, we'll make it just in time." But he frowns and argues, "I'm already here. A few more minutes won't make a difference." I look at the pink makeup bag in his hand and suddenly smile. Turning around, I pick up my phone and send a message to a number. I text, "Weren't you going to steal me away? Come get me at 8:58 am."

As the only expert in the world capable of rescue dives below 3,000 feet, I received a once-in-a-lifetime salvage contract worth tens of millions of dollars. I had dived in those same waters over a decade ago. My son's research submersible had been damaged on the ocean floor. After his oxygen ran out, he suffocated in the dark. The grief nearly destroyed me. My husband, Griffin Lattimer, held me through it, staying by my side through countless miserable nights. I found out later that he had personally redirected the only rescue vessel capable of reaching the depths our son was at to save his childhood friend's daughter. That girl had merely choked on a mouthful of water in the shallows. I divorced Griffin and threw myself into deep-sea salvage like a woman possessed, diving over and over until I knew the undercurrents of those waters better than I knew my own home. I never wanted another child to die the way mine did. Today brought the same stretch of ocean, the same crushed hull, the same depleted oxygen, and the same impossible odds. When I opened the client's file, I went completely still. I recognized the name and face inside instantly. I would never forget either of them for as long as I lived. I smiled and slid the folder back across the table to my partner. "I can't take this one."

After celebrating our tenth anniversary, my wife suddenly drops her ring into my palm. "Don't you feel like our life has gotten pretty boring? Maybe we should just get a divorce."

I brought Nolan Pierce home for dinner on holiday. Halfway through the meal, my sister suddenly suggested that Nolan and I adopt her son. Before I could refuse, Nolan gave a quiet hum of agreement. "Okay." He agreed, just like that. It caught me off guard because he had just told me he never wanted children just three days ago. It didn't matter how I begged and pleaded, as he still forced me to terminate my pregnancy. Now, he looked at my nephew and said, "He's my child. Of course, I should take responsibility." I stared at him, frozen in disbelief. I wondered how my nephew, Kayden, could possibly be Nolan's child. My sister had gotten pregnant by her broke ex-boyfriend and had run away before giving birth. When they saw the shock on my face, Nolan and my sister laughed at the same time. It was as if they were in on their own private joke, and perhaps they were. My sister shot me a scornful look. "How else do you think he could stand being with you? You were my replacement from the very beginning." Nolan wrapped an arm around my shoulders and spoke gently, as though he were comforting me. "Kayden is still related to you by blood, babe. Try to look on the bright side. You won't have to go through childbirth now." I felt my heart freeze right then and there. I had always known that Nolan had never forgotten about his first love. Yet, how could that same person be my sister? The same sister who bullied me since childhood and almost got me killed? My voice shook so badly I could barely force the words out. "Nolan, I want a divorce."

On the very first day Jason and I made our relationship official, he insisted on handing over his salary for me to manage. He said marriage was only a matter of time and that he trusted his future wife to keep the money safe. On the day of our engagement, Jason demanded that I hand over the $960,000 in salary I had “kept” for him over the past four years. “Each month, I gave you $20,000. In four years, that’s $960,000. After expenses, there should be at least $800,000 left, right? I can’t bear to make my parents empty their savings for my marriage. We will use my savings for the wedding, $600,000 as the down payment for the new apartment, and the remaining $200,000 will be my wedding gift to you.” I froze. “But there isn’t a single dollar left!” Jason exploded. “You wasteful woman! You spent all the money?!” His mother also erupted. “So much money, and you squandered it all! What shameful acts have you been up to?! This marriage is off!” Jason demanded to see the accounts. I immediately pulled out the records in front of everyone. Seeing this, Jason’s mother panicked.

I've just received a text from my CEO wife, Cara Lavigne. Apparently, she's gone on another last-minute business trip again, so she can't accompany me to the funeral home. But soon, I see Cara's silhouette being captured in a photo, where she celebrates her assistant, Warren Stone's birthday with him in a work-related post he has just uploaded. The caption reads, "Thank you for the amazing cake, boss! I feel so happy to be able to celebrate my birthday!" I just smile calmly before leaving a like and a comment. "Happy birthday." My colleagues, on the other hand, start betting pools like mad to see what kind of tricks I'm going to pull this time in order to kick up a ruckus. Cara calls me immediately just to scold me. "Warren is just celebrating his birthday, so what's with the comment? He's a very sensitive person, you know! How is he going to survive in this company now that you've passive-aggressively humiliated him in that public post? "It's been barely two years since Warren joined this company, not to mention he doesn't have any friends! What's wrong with me celebrating his birthday with him, huh? People like you, who are born with silver spoons in their mouths, will never understand Warren's plight! "I want you to delete your comment right now! We'll talk more about this once I'm home! Your dad is already dead anyway, so you can just wait for a few more days before claiming his body!" I can only clench my fists tightly as I listen to Cara's heartless and nonchalant words. "No need for that." Once she is back, the divorce procedures will be done.

Leon, drink up. Finish every drop in this glass." As my wife, Alice Carr, holds a glass of warm milk, she keeps staring at my Adam's apple intensely. Every night, she needs to watch me finish the entire glass of milk. At first, I think this is Alice's way of showing me her love. That is, until something occurred last month. Back then, my neighbor's fire alarm blared extremely loudly due to a fire breaking out. Yet, I had slept like a log the whole time. Only then do I realize that something is wrong with the milk. Last night, I pretended to go on a business trip. When I secretly go home in the middle of the night, I find out that my bedroom door is locked. When I peek through the gap in the door, I feel my hairs rising on their ends. It turns out that Alice isn't asleep at all. She's standing on the balcony while holding my pillow and burying her face into it. Then, she inhales the scent deeply, as though she were a drug addict. Her shoulders keep trembling violently the whole time. It's one thing if Alice is madly addicted to my scent. The thing is, the pillowcase is a part of the bedroom set that my mom has dug up from my childhood home last week. I never have a chance to use that pillow, so there's no way my scent lingers on the pillowcase. Suddenly, Alice halts in her actions and raises her head. She looks up at the moon while licking her lips in an euphoric haze. Then, she mumbles softly, "Your dad's scent… is fading away…"

On my wedding day, my arranged fiancé abandoned me and chose my sister instead. As I became the laughingstock of every elite guest in attendance, my business partner James Crawford shocked everyone by publicly proposing to me with a passionate declaration of love. After we married, he was incredibly attentive, especially during my pregnancy when he catered to my every need. I thought my suffering had finally ended. Until I overheard his confession to my sister: "I've only ever loved you." James's voice carried a passion I'd never heard him use with me. "Marry her? I was only after her resources, connections, and her talent for making money. She's nothing but a useful cash cow." "Now that she's pregnant, even better." His tone was coldly calculating. "With the baby, she'll be even more dependent on me, more devoted. She'll never leave." Everything I had treasured—our love, our marriage—was all a lie. Learning the truth, I turned and walked away without a word. I was done with this charade. Everything that belonged to me, I would reclaim with my own hands.

My husband and I scratched off a five-million-dollar lottery ticket at a lottery shop. Before we even had time to celebrate, the rosary I had worn since childhood suddenly snapped, a single bead cracking clean off the chain. Without another word, I grabbed him and tried to buy tickets that very night to flee back to the southwestern mountains. The lottery shop owner stared at me in shock. My husband clung to the metal shutter and roared, "Have you lost your mind?" But I gripped that broken wooden bead tightly. "We leave now." My husband flung my hand away, his eyes bloodshot. "I'm claiming this prize today. If you dare run, we're getting divorced!" I nodded without hesitation. "Fine. The five million, plus the used car at home, all go to you. I'll leave with nothing... "But tonight, I have to leave this city."

After her miscarriage, Elise Emery became exactly the wife Colsen Locke had always wanted. She quit telling him about her day. Quit calling when he stayed out all night. Even when an old man falsely accused her of hitting him with her car, she didn't call anyone. Didn't ask for bail. She just spent seven days in custody. At dusk on the seventh day, the precinct's iron gate clanged open. Elise had barely made it down the steps when a black Maybach screeched to a stop in front of her. The door swung open. Colsen stepped out in a custom suit, tall and lean, all broad shoulders and cold control. Same polished look. Same unreadable face.

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."