قصص وروايات قصيرة عن Melodramatic وتضم Male POV وتدور في Cheating

My girlfriend's mother, Katherine Wells, had Alzheimer's disease and kept mistaking my buddy for her daughter's boyfriend. No matter how many times I explained that I was the one dating her daughter, she'd forget moments later and grab my buddy, calling him her son-in-law. With no other option, Kimberly Westwood asked my buddy to play along. "Don't worry, Ryan," he assured me. "It's just an act." Kimberly promised me the same thing. "Ryan, once my mother's condition stabilizes, we'll get engaged." But I ended up waiting three years. During our first New Year's celebration, my buddy stood in my place in the family photo, his arm around Kimberly as they smiled at the camera. The following year, her entire family went abroad for Christmas holiday, and my buddy went along as her fiance. I watched through the screen as they flaunted their relationship everywhere they went. This Thanksgiving, Kimberly told me her mother was doing better and wanted to make our engagement official. At the dinner table, I thought Katherine might finally remember me. But she turned to my buddy and asked eagerly, "Elliot, when are you two getting married? I've been waiting for this day!" Elliot Vaughn didn't dare answer. Kimberly hesitated for only a second before announcing to everyone at the table, "The venue's already booked. We'll have the wedding as soon as we get back." A chill ran through me. Just then, my phone buzzed. A message from Kimberly appeared on the screen. "Ryan, play along with us one last time. Once it's over, I'll definitely marry you." I stared at the message and replied with a single word, "Okay." Then, I canceled my wedding ring order and emailed my resignation to HR. Kimberly had no idea that this Thanksgiving was the last chance I was giving her. She'd chosen to see the charade through to its happy ending with someone else. In that case, it was time for me to walk away.

I, Wayne Watson, grew up in an orphanage, which made me strong and calm. I never asked others for help, no matter what happened. My girlfriend, Rosetta Walter, always said she admired my independence and ability to solve problems on my own. "Men who run to others for help whenever something happens are the worst." I once believed she truly meant it. That was until the new assistant, Kevin Skyler, at her company called her for the 99th time while crying. "Ms. Walter, the light bulb at my home is broken. It's so dark, and I'm scared." "Don't cry, Kevin. I'm coming right over!" Just like that, Rosetta left without another word. Watching her hurry away, I knew our relationship was over.

On the seventh anniversary of my relationship with Jocelyn Porter, our friends decided to take the latest viral online quiz that matched people’s personalities to animals. One of our friends, Marvin Smith, lounged lazily on the sofa and asked Jocelyn, "So, what kind of animal am I?" "Cat," Jocelyn answered without a second thought. "You have a terrible temper, scratch people whenever you feel like it, and love making everyone miserable." Marvin was just about to raise an eyebrow when she smiled and straightened his collar. "But expensive cats are supposed to be spoiled. No matter how much money or patience it takes to care for one, they’re still worth it." Everyone burst into teasing laughter, saying she was not insulting him at all. She was just showing off her precious little cat. Someone else chimed in. "What about Bobby?" Jocelyn glanced at me and fell silent for a long moment. "Bobby? He has a dog’s personality." One of our friends immediately jumped in to smooth things over. "Right! Bobby is really like a puppy. He’s cheerful, affectionate, and always sticks close to the woman he loves." Jocelyn lowered her head and let out a quiet laugh. "No. It’s because no matter how many times I chase him away, he just won't leave. "I've blocked him twenty-seven times and called off our wedding three times. At most, he cries for one night. The next morning, he comes right back to me." The entire table erupted in laughter. Just before the party ended, a jewelry store delivery arrived with two gift boxes. Marvin received a pair of cat-themed luxury watches worth $480,000. Meanwhile, my gift was a silver pet ID tag. Engraved on the back were the words: [IF FOUND, PLEASE RETURN TO JOCELYN.] Marvin raised his arm and draped it along the back of the sofa behind Jocelyn. "Aren't you worried he might actually run away one day?" Jocelyn fastened his watch for him and replied carelessly, "A dog always knows who its owner is." I smiled, too. Seven days later, I laid that pet ID tag on top of our fourth wedding’s cancellation notice. This time, I did not look back.

On the day of our fifth wedding ceremony, the bride, Natalie Knight, was late yet again. A notification suddenly popped up on my phone: a trending post on the local city forum. [What's the most thrilling thing you've done after finally winning over the person you'd secretly loved for years?] The original poster answered his own question: [Becoming her husband, obviously. Then stealing her away from my childhood best friend at his weddings five times and going at it with her backstage at the ceremony until we couldn't see straight.] Amid a flood of angry comments, the poster went ahead and shared a photo taken afterward, both of them drenched in sweat. No faces were visible, but it was easy to tell the poster was wearing a groomsman's suit. The woman, shown only in profile, was wearing a wedding dress. A strange sense of familiarity turned me cold from head to toe. The next moment, the doors to the wedding venue finally swung open, and two figures appeared before me. They matched the people in the photo exactly. It felt like I'd plunged into ice water. One was my childhood best friend, who'd been inseparable from me for thirteen years. The other was Natalie, the wife I'd married at the courthouse five years ago.

Five years after falling into the abyss of depression, I finally felt like a human being again. I was back to talking, laughing, eating on my own, and my wife Stella Anderson and I were even expecting our second child. During our New Year's Eve family dinner, my wife’s godbrother, Lucian Smith, got trashed and started boasting through his alcohol-slurred breath. "Must’ve been five years ago." He smirked. "I was going through a brutal breakup, so I took my car out for a reckless joyride while the street cameras were down for maintenance." Lucian took a slow sip of his drink, his expression turning into a sneer. "You won't believe it. Right as I floored it, this stray cat flew right out of nowhere and slammed into my front bumper. It squealed once and bolted off into the dark." He shook his head in disgust. "Stupid animal ruined my custom wrap and scared the hell out of me. You guys better keep an eye out. Don't end up like Spencer, dragging home bad luck like a damn plague. Makes me sick just thinking about it." Lucian tossed the story out like it was nothing more than a minor, gross inconvenience. Around the table, everyone broke out in chuckles, nodding along and telling him to visit a church or grab a lucky charm so no evil spirits would haunt him. I stood there right in the middle of the noisy crowd. I looked at Lucian’s smirking face, my mother-in-law Camila Anderson's fond, doting eyes, and the tolerant, helpless smile on Stella’s face. The blood drained from my face instantly. It was as if every single one of them had forgotten. My daughter, Evelyn West, died in a hit-and-run five years ago.

On the night of my birthday, I got a photo from Tyler Pattison, the college student my wife, Helen Watkins, had been keeping. In the photo, my wife lay topless in his arms, her face still flushed. Tyler: [Helen loves me. Why do you insist on holding on and refusing to let go?] I stared at the photo, expressionless, and forwarded it to my wife. [Is this what you want?] [Fine. I'll let you two have each other.] She'd forgotten that our marriage was something she had wanted with all her heart, something she had begged and pleaded for. Since she loved her freedom so much, I would give it back to her.

My wife, Ariel Sweeney, would always buy me a new watch every time she cheated on me. We'd been married for four years, and I'd already collected 99 watches. That also meant I'd forgiven her 99 times too. This time, she went on a business trip for three days, and returned with a Patek Philippe watch worth ten million dollars for me. I then knew that it was time we got a divorce.

The OB-GYN clinic is almost closed for the day when Isaac Howard gets a male patient. He's young and handsome and looks to be in his early 20s. He seems to be a college student. Thinking he's here to start trouble, Isaac frowns. "This is the OB-GYN clinic. What's a college student doing here?" Out of breath, the young man replies, "Doctor, please wait a minute. My wife is on her way. She'll be here soon." "Is that so?" As a professional doctor, Isaac doesn't overthink it. He just asks, "So, what seems to be the problem with the pregnant patient? What's bothering her?" "We kind of went overboard this morning… Picked things up a notch. I was in class this afternoon when she suddenly texted me saying she wasn't feeling well. I was worried, so I skipped class to grab a spot for her." "What's the patient's name?" Isaac looks down to check the intake form. His fingers freeze the second his eyes hit the family section. In the patient name column, it reads, "Julia Gordon." What a coincidence. That's his wife's name, too.

Caitlin Wiggins' assistant, Bryan Shepard, complains about a client's bad breath, causing the company's project to be ruined. I do everything I can to help Bryan salvage the situation. But all I do is remind Bryan to watch his words, and yet he has the audacity to pin the blame on me. "Zane, your incapability is the reason why the client got mad at us. I used my family's resources to help you salvage the situation out of the kindness of my heart, you know! How could you accuse me like that?" Despite knowing the truth, Caitlin still chooses to side with Bryan. The punishment she issues me is a one-month suspension from my position. On top of that, I need to transfer the project to Bryan. Everyone in the meeting room turns to look at me. They think I'll definitely argue with Caitlin and fight for my rights. But I just hand over the rights of the project to Bryan obediently. Seeing as I've finally learned my lesson, Caitlin happily promises me that she'll marry me once the project turns out to be a huge success and that she gets promoted to the CEO's position. But what she doesn't know is that the client isn't Bryan's relative at all, but rather, my own uncle, Donovan Eaton. It all depends on me whether or not he wishes to continue working with Caitlin's company. In fact, I don't plan on helping Caitlin clean up her mess anymore. When the time comes, not only will she lose her promotion, but she'll also get kicked out of the company.

On the day of his fifth wedding anniversary with Hazel Fresco, Jack Brook was the only one dining in the restaurant. He was about to get up and leave when a waiter, Kai Wallace, walked in carrying his favorite dessert. He was puzzled. “Didn’t you say this was sold out?” Kai panicked. “I’m sorry, Mr. Brook. This is for the room next door. I saw the reservation was under Mrs. Brook’s name, so I figured you two had booked the same room. My mistake.” Jack was stunned. “Wait, so you’re telling me the people in the room next door are with my wife?” That was impossible. Hazel had just texted him, saying that she was still on a business trip abroad and would not be back until the next day. To make it up to him, she had even sent him an anniversary gift in advance. He knew she loved him. There was no way she would lie to him. Kai realized he had misspoken and hurriedly turned to leave. Jack instinctively followed him to the room next door. The second he walked in, he saw a room packed with people he knew all too well. Besides a handful of Hazel’s childhood friends, his best friend from high school, Alex Clare, was there too. After Hazel stood him up, Jack had called Alex right away. At the time, Alex had told him he had a patient that night and would be occupied. Even so, there he was. Just as Jack was almost convinced it was a surprise Hazel had set up for him, he spotted her sitting at the head of the table.

My fiancée, Gina Winston, never liked to be troubled. In the five years we had been together, I was the one who decided where we should go on all our dates. All she did was tell the driver where to take her. For every birthday and anniversary, Gina would always get me the same thing, which was a blue and black striped tie. She was the same way when it came to planning our wedding. Every time I wanted to discuss the guest list with her, she would say it was too much trouble and refused to get into the details. Even when we were taking our wedding photos, she was not happy that it took too long, and she picked the basic package. When I came to the wedding planner's office alone to confirm the wedding plans, the planner chatted with me while showing me the design sketches. "Speaking of which, we took in a client not long ago who was very particular about the wedding details. She tested more than 20 types of dessert because her husband doesn't enjoy anything sweet, and she insisted on making sure every piece of dessert had the correct sugar level." The planner smiled as she continued, "Coincidentally, she shares the same surname as your fiancée. She's also a Winston and doesn't like roses, just like your fiancée." I was about to sign the contract when I suddenly stopped. The planner did not notice anything strange about me, and smiled as she looked at the door. "Look. Ms. Winston is here again. This time, she wants to add outdoor fireworks to the program because she's worried that the groom will find it too boring indoors." I looked toward the door and saw Gina entering the office. Shock and disappointment exploded inside of me. Gina had never been afraid of trouble. She was just not willing to be troubled by me. Since her heart was not with me, maybe it was time to end our relationship.

On the day we were supposed to leave for our graduation trip to the Cloudspire Plateau, my girlfriend dropped off the face of the earth. While I waited at Bellwarren International Airport, my roommate sent me a strangely loaded message. "Elliot, don't panic. There's a big surprise coming." I felt relieved. I assumed Naomi was running late because she was getting dressed up. She'd always promised that the day we graduated, she'd put on a wedding gown and marry me. Then our class representative dropped a cash giveaway into the group chat. @Everyone: "Thanks to every student and faculty member here to witness Naomi Keller and Derek Vaughn's engagement! Three years together, and they finally made it official!" It was cleaned out in seconds. One classmate after another posted congratulations. Then somebody finally put it together and wrote, "Holy hell, Owen. Did you forget to take Elliot out of this group?" The chat went dead silent. A second later, all of them started tagging me. "Elliot, don't come down here and make a scene. They've been together in secret for three years. It wasn't easy getting to this day." "You're so controlling that Derek couldn't show his face for three years. He's been through enough." Even our faculty adviser piled on. "Do it as a favor to me. You're a man, so be the bigger person. Don't ruin their night. Let them keep some dignity." Their messages closed in around me until I couldn't breathe, let alone ask a single question. The promise that was supposed to carry us from school uniforms to a wedding gown wasn't the only lie. Every part of those four years had been one.

After six whole months of renovations, I feel like an outsider in the very home where I'm supposed to be the man of the house. At six feet three inches tall, I have to bend far over the bathroom sink just to wash my hands, and water keeps splashing onto my pant legs. The closet rods are ridiculously low, and even raising my arms slightly causes my elbows to hit the cabinet doors. But when Julian Parker walks in, everything fits him perfectly. At five feet nine inches, it's as if the entire house has been custom-built for him. He casually hangs his jacket by the entrance and leans against the kitchen island. "This counter really is the perfect height. I don't even have to raise my arms to chop vegetables or wash fruit." My fiancée, Claire Bennett, looks pleased with herself as she smiles and agrees. "Of course. We based all the measurements on yours." Only when she sees my expression darken does she offer a halfhearted explanation. "The designer was rushing me, and you were working late, so I just used Julian's measurements. Don't be upset. I'll buy you some taller chairs later. You can wash your hands sitting down, can't you?" I've poured my entire savings into what I thought would be a home for Claire and me, only to discover that she's made it a perfect home for another man. I give a bitter smile. If that's how things stand, I'm done with the house. And I'm done with her, too.

The day I found out my wife, Madison Anderson, had a secret three-year-old son with someone else, was the day I wired our house with explosives. I was prepared to end it all, with her by my side. Only that night, Madison never came home. I sat hollow and numb until my 10-month-old daughter suddenly called out, "Da-da." That single word shattered my resolve. She breathed life back into me. And so, I grabbed the most expensive car in the garage and sped away, detonating the explosives from beyond the gates. I drove straight to the airport, uncaring of the fiery wreckage that I left behind. From that night forward, the man Havenport had ridiculed as the Anderson family's worthless son-in-law vanished without a trace. Five years later, our paths crossed again at a boutique inn in Bellmont. Madison stared at me as I politely handed her the room key. For a moment, she looked lost. "Travis.... you seem different." I simply smiled and wished them a pleasant stay as a family of three.

In the seventh year of my long-distance relationship with my girlfriend Quinn Summers, I quit my job without telling her and traveled more than six-hundred miles to Oceanton. I only wanted to surprise her and ask her to marry me. When the receptionist heard I was looking for Quinn, her expression slightly shifted. "Our CEO Ms. Summers is still in a meeting. Please wait a moment." I was surprised. Quinn had never told me she had been promoted. During our video call last week, she had even complained about how stressful work was and how far away a promotion felt. When I turned around, I heard the receptionist whispering to her coworker. "So… This is the guy Ms. Summers is keeping on the side? Seriously, he has some nerve, coming all the way to the company." "If Mr. Gomez finds out Ms. Summers is cheating during their marriage, this is going to be very bad." I was about to turn back and tell them they had the wrong person. Quinn was not married, and I was her real boyfriend of ten years. But before I could speak, a man in a black suit walked in from the revolving door. The receptionists immediately fell silent and greeted him with deep respect. "Mr. Gomez." The man was on the phone, his voice low and gentle. "Honey, I'm downstairs. You must come with me to your prenatal checkup today!" A clear female voice came through the phone, agonizingly sweet. "I know, honey. The meeting's almost over. Wait for me at the guest lounge." I had listened to that voice for seven years. I knew it far too well. It was my girlfriend, Quinn.

While I was playing house with my daughter, she held up a doll and said it was Papa, then pointed to a robot and said it was Mommy. "Then who am I?" I asked her. Her eyes lit up, then she clapped her hands and laughed. "You're the other man!" I froze where I stood. "Who taught you that?" My expression frightened her, but she pouted, unconvinced. "Godpa said so! He said the other man is the one nobody loves. He said he feels sorry for you, and he made me promise not to tell you." The moment she finished speaking, a message came in from my wife. [Honey, I'm so sorry. I didn't get the bonus, so I can't take you out for Valentine's like I promised. I've let you down again.] I stared at the message and did not question my daughter about it. That night, when I left for my part-time job, my best friend Calvin Reddick came to pick her up again. I asked the restaurant owner for the night off, took the last 200 dollars I had, and hailed a cab to follow him. His car finally stopped in front of a mansion. From the back seat of the cab, I watched my wife, who was supposed to be out working as a designated driver, walk out arm in arm with another man. My daughter ran happily into his arms, calling him Papa over and over, while Calvin stood by and smiled at the scene. The three of them went inside, talking and laughing. Tears slowly blurred my vision. For years, I had been working from dawn until late at night, washing dishes and hauling stock in a restaurant kitchen to help my wife pay off her debts. My hands were covered in calluses. As it turned out, she had never gone bankrupt at all, and she had even built a luxurious home with another man. Even my best friend had known, and he had been covering for them all along.

My wife, Claire, wanted our son to give up a kidney to save her childhood sweetheart's daughter. I refused. I fought her so hard that I thought she'd finally let it go. Then our son vanished, and Claire stopped answering my calls. I went to the hospital to find her. There, I learned that the little girl had finally found a donor. Claire would perform the transplant herself. She'd promised to keep her safe. Then I saw the name listed under deceased organ donor. It was my son's.

Elise Van Doren and I had been together for fifteen years, but she still refused to marry me. Then we had a bitter argument about it. The next day, the television station sent me to the county clerk's office to do live interviews with newlyweds. When I got to a young groom, the question the system pulled from the live comments was, "What's the cruelest thing your wife has ever said to you?" I was sure someone was just trying to stir up trouble, and I almost skipped it. But the young man smiled shyly at the camera. "Nothing, really. She can never bring herself to be harsh with me. The meanest thing she's ever called me was 'you silly boy' when I burned my hand. "She's fourteen years older than me, and she treasures me. She always says that since I got together with her so young, she's going to spoil me rotten. That's why I chose my twenty-second birthday to marry her." The live comments went wild over how sweet they were. Even I smiled. I was about to congratulate him when a woman came up and threw herself into his arms. "Honey, what are you talking about?" My blood ran cold. The microphone slipped from my fingers and hit the floor. The woman was Elise. My girlfriend. The night before, she'd looked me in the eye and said, "You want to talk about dignity? If you had any, would you have been my lapdog at seventeen, begging me to be with you? You're paranoid all the time. Hell, I'm starting to think you're the one with another woman on the side!"

The risks of my mom's heart transplant surgery are very high. My wife, Wendy Lowell, is known to be a miracle doctor. Everyone advises me to convince her to perform the surgery on Mom. But when I arrive at the hotel Wendy is staying at, I witness her assistant, Hayden Sterling, changing her panties for her. I glare at Wendy angrily. "Wendy, if you agree to perform the surgery on my mom right now, I'll let you off the hook this time!" But Wendy slowly wraps her arms around Hayden's neck right in front of me. "What are you looking at? Are you threatening me?" She picks up her phone on the spot. "Switch off the oxygen machine for Finn's mother right now." My eyes go bloodshot as I grip the door frame tightly. "Wendy Lowell, that's your mother-in-law! Karma will definitely bite you in the ass!" Wendy goes into an outburst as soon as she hears me. "Shut up! If it wasn't for the fact that the hag found out about me and Hayden, our affair wouldn't have gotten leaked to the public! "All I did is turn off your mom's oxygen machine, Finn! I didn't refuse the surgery! Once I've cooled off, I'll go ahead and carry out the surgery!" Then, Wendy orders her bodyguards to throw me out of the hotel. I scramble up to my feet in a wretched manner, though my hands have already balled into fists. Soon, I send a newly drafted text as an unknown number. "Dr. Lowell has suffered from bone fractures all over her body. She's currently at…"

After being forced to give my wife's first love my heart, I died in the hallway of the private hospital she had personally founded. My six-year-old son, Ash, had already begged her thrice by the time I had drawn my last breath. The first time was when he tugged on her hand, saying I was coughing up blood. Sneering, she claimed, "So he's finally learned something—teaching his kid how to lie." Then, she had the bodyguards throw him out of the room. The second time was when he clung to her sleeve, insisting that I rambled nonsense due to the pain. "It's just a heart transplant," she opined with a frown. "The doctor already said he won't die." At that, the bodyguards stepped in again and dragged him away. The third time was when he fell to the ground, clutching her pant leg with all his strength, crying that I had already passed out. She finally lost her temper by this point, grabbing Ash by the throat and hurling him out of the room. "I have already said it—Howard isn't going to die. Dare to disturb Skye's rest again, and I'll throw both of you out of this hospital," she warned. To save me, my son pawned the most precious thing he owned—his St. Christopher medal—to a nurse. "Ma'am," he said. "I don't need to live a long life. I just want my dad to live." She accepted the medal and was about to arrange for me to be transferred to the last available room. However, my wife's first love, Skye Whitley, had someone block the doorway with his pet dog. He mentioned, "Sorry, kid. Your mom's worried I'll get bored if I can't see my dog. This room is reserved for him."