Melodramatic Short Stories & Male POV Cheating Novels

At my wedding reception, one of Patricia Ferguson's friends suggests a party game to liven things up. She keeps the rhythm, then points at me. "What's something you see at a wedding?" I look at Patricia beside me and point to myself, beaming. "The groom." My friend, Gordon Palmer, shoots me a knowing look before saying with a smirk, "A pathetic bed warmer." I freeze. I'm about to demand an explanation when Patricia's older sister, Amelia Ferguson, gives me a pointed look and sneers. "The side piece." As the color drains from my face, Patricia gently pats my head. "The truth is, Marvin and I got married last year. If your mother hadn't begged me to take care of you before she died, I wouldn't even be going through with this wedding. "Brad, I know how much you love me. Don't get all hung up on what you are to me." The moment Patricia finishes speaking, my half-brother, Marvin Sawyer, steps onto the stage holding a marriage certificate. Behind him, the screen lights up with an explicit video of me. It's not censored at all, and the audio is loud enough for everyone in the room to hear. Marvin says, "Bradley, your mother was the other woman, and you've followed right in her footsteps. But thanks for throwing yourself at Patricia and keeping her company in bed while I was abroad getting treatment. "All you have to do is get on your knees and beg. Then I'll make it official. I'll let you be Patricia's side piece." My friends exchange mocking glances, smiling as they watch me being humiliated. Turns out every last one of them has known about this, but they've been keeping me in the dark. Their game has reached its grand finale, and I'm the only fool in the room.

After the Sullivan Group went bankrupt, I abandoned everything and followed Jessica to Tylen City. It took her five years, but she eventually inherited her father's legacy and climbed back into the top three on the Forbes rankings. Yet, she never once brought up any word about marriage. That lasted until the night before the Day of the Dead. I woke up in the middle of the night and saw her lighting candles while facing the direction of Cinea. "Dad, Mom, forgive me. I couldn't visit you this year because of work, but please continue to protect Chris and bless us with happiness for the rest of our lives." When I heard this, warmth filled my heart. My health was on the frail end of the scale. In the past, she always returned on her own since she didn't want me to be exhausted over this. This year, I decided to make the trip on her behalf after seeing the longing hidden in her eyes. However, what I never expected was to see the name of her former fiancé beside her name on the gravestone. Moreover, his title was engraved as her husband. As I looked further down, I saw another name beneath theirs. It was a name that belonged to their three-year-old son. At that moment, I felt as if I'd been struck by lightning. Only then did I realize that it wasn't Christopher she was referring to when she said, "Chris." Instead, it was Christian.

For seven years, my CEO girlfriend never once came home with me to see my parents. She told me that she hated social obligations, and that she didn't want to deal with the gossip and hassle that came with meeting my parents and relatives. Even in daily life, she treated me with cold professionalism, never spending any anniversaries with me in favor of working overtime. I'd always thought that it was just a simple matter of her being too rational and prideful, and I was fine with slowly teaching her how to nurture a relationship. That was, until Thanksgiving arrived. Once again, she stressed that holidays were just a capitalistic norm, and that she was going to work overtime instead of coming home with me. By chance, however, I accidentally stumbled upon my intern's social media. Inside a private room at a five-star hotel, he and his family sat at a table as my girlfriend sat beside him, carefully serving him food. [Yo, my boss secretly brought my parents into the city for Thanksgiving, and even gave me gifts! She told me that I was worth special gestures, too. Where can you even find a boss this romantic? My parents even told me to marry her as soon as I could! LOL!] So she knew better than anyone how to make people feel cherished. I just wasn't worth any of it. I commented: [How romantic.] Then, I messaged my girlfriend. [Let's break up.]

At the bachelorette's party before the wedding, Juliet Stone's best friend speaks with her in their hometown's dialect. "The video that's posted in our group chat was taken in your and Hugo's new home, right? Doesn't that mean you've been cheating on him blatantly this whole time? You go, girl!" Juliet shoots her a mysterious smile. "Yeah. You know that I've always had a bad heart, so I couldn't carry out strenuous exercises. After undergoing the heart transplant surgery, I think that if I only get to sleep with one man for the rest of my life, it'll be dull and boring." A pause later, she adds, "I plan on unlocking 100 locations with my lover before the wedding starts. But once I've gone through the wedding, I won't sleep around anymore and choose to stay devoted to Hugo instead." I can only clutch my chest tightly, where an artificial heart beats silently. Juliet has no idea that I've specifically learned her dialect in order to bond with her family even better. Of course, I've already discovered the fact that she has been cheating on me with our wedding planner for a very long time. That's why I decide to hide something from her as well. I've already booked the euthanizing service that's provided overseas. On the wedding day that Juliet has been greatly anticipating, I'll have disappeared beyond the ocean. Later on, even if Juliet does track me down using all of her resources, all she can find is nothing but my ashes.

After a Thanksgiving dinner, my childhood friend, Calvin Sheafe, suggests playing Truth or Dare. When my wife, Tiffany Kramer, loses a round, she reluctantly chooses Truth. "When was the last time you felt nauseated?" Calvin asks with a teasing smile. "Where were you?" "10:00 pm last night. In bed," Tiffany answers without the slightest hesitation. The mood turns awkward, and a few of my friends glance my way. Tiffany and I grew up in the same neighborhood and got married soon after graduation. We'd agreed not to have children, and our marriage had always seemed happy and stable. That is, until we get into a huge fight before Thanksgiving. Tiffany has already made plans for us to spend Thanksgiving with her parents, as we've spent every holiday with them since they moved four years ago. But this year, I want to return to my hometown, Birchford, instead. When I insist on going back, Tiffany and I have a massive argument. Trying to lighten the mood, another friend jokes, "You've been married for seven years without kids. Don't tell me there's a little surprise on the way!" "Of course not." Tiffany sneers. "A woman only has a child for a man she truly loves." I shoot to my feet, and the gathering ends on a sour note. I assume Tiffany is still angry at me. But while smoking in the stairwell, I overhear her talking to Calvin. "I can't take it anymore. If you hadn't gone overseas back then, I wouldn't have married him. He kept chasing after me like a pathetic simp, and I ended up marrying him out of spite! "I never thought marrying a simp would still leave me feeling so wronged." I freeze, the cigarette ash burning into my palm. We've been married for seven years. Yet in all 2,557 days of our marriage, she has never loved me—not even for a second.

During a company team-building event, we held a trust fall activity. I stood on the platform with my back to Matthew Walter, my girlfriend's male assistant. My girlfriend, the CEO, held a megaphone and announced, "If you fail to catch someone, that means you don't trust your team." The first time, Matthew failed to catch me, and I slammed into the ground. My girlfriend, Jessica Homer, made excuses for him. "Calum, you're too heavy. Matthew isn't strong enough, so it's understandable." The second time, Matthew failed to catch me again. Jessica snapped impatiently, "Your expression was too serious. You scared Matthew." On the third attempt, I asked to catch him instead. Although I caught him without a problem, she announced to everyone, "Calum caught Matthew, but he let his emotions get in the way. He doesn't pass." Then, she stared at me and said, "Starting tomorrow, you'll be transferred to the logistics department to handle office supply purchasing. Matthew will take over your position as manager." I frowned. "Have you lost your mind?"

In order to keep Sam Anderson from being fired, my lawyer wife, Blair Reid, drugged me before the hearing and handed my important case over to him. Blair then handed one of my major cases over to Sam. “The effect of the poison will only last for a day. Once the case is over, I’ll make it up to you.” I watched as Blair pulled an all-nighter to draft an outline for Sam and promote him. She also brought him around to network with other lawyers. After some time passed, Blair said she felt sorry for me. She told me she would immediately promote me to a partner at the law firm. However, she went crazy after realizing I did not get my voice back.

My wife of three secretly married years, Izzy Presley, threw a welcome-home dinner for her childhood friend who'd just returned to the country. A sharp-eyed coworker noticed the wedding ring on her finger and teased her about it. "Izzy, does this mean there's a wedding on the way?" Izzy didn't deny it. Instead, she traded a smile with Sebastian Wood, the friend she'd grown up with, and made her answer loud enough for the whole room to hear. "Yes. Sebastian and I are getting engaged." She handed out cash gift cards to everyone in the room as she said it, me included. Someone who'd had a little too much to drink called out. "I've watched Stevie and Izzy come and go together for three years straight. Honestly, I thought you two were the real couple." I kept my head down and tightened my grip around the stem of my glass. On my phone, the chat thread with Izzy was still open. That 200-dollar cash gift, the exact same amount she'd given every other guest in the room, burned behind my eyes. Then her voice drifted over, light as air. "My assistant Stevie is good at his job. Work is work, and feelings are feelings. Let's not confuse the two." The teasing only got louder after that. Through the whole party, everyone celebrated for her. No one knew that Izzy and I had already been married for three years. This marriage was like a deal struck in the dark, the kind that could never see daylight. Because I loved her, I'd gritted my teeth and held on for three years. But now, I was ready to let go.

My girlfriend, Loretta Summers, is an introvert and quiet by nature. Even our daily conversations are limited to things like, "Have you eaten?" or "Are you asleep?" Then, at a New Year's class reunion, I see her chatting animatedly with a guy, Ivan Lane. That is when I realize— it is time for us to break up.

Before our wedding, my fiancée, Sarah Hargrave—a professor of medieval history—held a private ceremony in a secluded chapel in the countryside. But not with me. Under the glow of candlelight, she cradled Benjamin Wheeler—her first love, his face gaunt from the cancer consuming him—in her arms. Her smile was soft, almost reverent, as she murmured, "In the eyes of God, vows made before the altar are the only ones that matter. Even if the law says I belong to Daniel, my soul was never his." And so, to the faint echo of hymns and the scent of old incense, they drank from the same silver cup, exchanged rings, and stepped together into the dimly lit sacristy—their makeshift bridal chamber. I watched. Silent. Motionless. No outbursts, no demands for explanation. Just the quiet dialing of a clinic to undo the vasectomy I'd gotten for our future. From fifteen to thirty, I had loved Sarah for fifteen long years. But in all that time, there'd never been room for me. That space had always belonged to Benjamin, my stepbrother. So I let her go. Afterward, I joined a geological research team bound for the isolation of Antarctica—a land cut off from the world, quiet and clean. Before I left, I handed Sarah a divorce agreement…and a final gift to mark the end. I never anticipated that Sarah, who'd always met my devotion with frosty detachment, who'd never once glanced back as I walked away, would look ten years older overnight.

My girlfriend and my best friend never saw eye to eye. Ever since they met each other, they would always butt heads over trivial matters. Somehow, never spending anniversaries with me was what they had in common. In previous years, they would mysteriously become unreachable on that day, leaving me staring at the unanswered calls on my phone screen. This year, I mustered my courage to speak up in the group chat. "This year marks our tenth anniversary. Can't we celebrate it together?" The group chat, as though their earlier bickering hadn't happened, suddenly fell into silence after my message was sent. Both replied to my suggestion at the same time. "I'm not going to spend time around him!" "I'm not going to spend time around her!" Disappointment washed over me, but I forced myself to ignore it and comforted myself with a thought. Despite never celebrating our anniversary, both of them treated me with care and had never let me down over the past years. On the tenth anniversary day, I visited the famous Lovers' Lane alone. A couple, fingers intertwined, under the streetlights, caught my eye. One of them was my girlfriend, Salome Carter. The other person was my best friend, Malcolm Wane. The two people whose personalities clashed since the beginning were acting like a couple deep in love. He smirked. "What's gotten into Elliot? He's not spam-calling today. That's uncharacteristic of him." The next second, she nudged his shoulder with a playful frown. "Stop mentioning Elliot O'Connor for once when he's not around." As I watched the scene unfold, realization dawned on me, and the blood in my veins turned cold. Sure, they were celebrating the anniversary together, only that I was excluded. At that moment, I stopped seeing the point of them in my life.

I was the simple-minded fool that General Adelaide Knight had pulled from a pile of corpses on the battlefield. The poison had been too severe. I survived, but my mind never fully recovered. When people hit me or cursed at me, all I ever did was stare blankly and smile. Adelaide took pity on me. She brought me into her home and refused to let anyone mistreat me. She once said, "Reed may be a fool, but he's my whole life." And like a fool, I believed her. For five years, I followed her everywhere like a shadow. Then Fabian Ortega returned to the capital. He looked so much like me that we could almost have been brothers. He'd been poisoned, and none of the doctors knew how to save him. His only chance was to fight poison with poison—using blood drawn from the heart of someone whose body was already saturated with an even deadlier toxin. So Adelaide placed a dagger and an empty bowl in front of me. Her voice had never been gentler. "Be good, Reed. Your body's already full of poison. It's just a small cut over your heart. It won't hurt. Let me take some blood for him. I'll buy you your favorite candy tomorrow, okay?" I stared at the cold gleam of the blade and slowly blinked. The truth was, when the knife pierced my chest, the blood came so fast that I felt so cold. Still, I endured it and forced the same vacant smile onto my face. "Okay." I watched Adelaide pick up the bowl of warm blood and hurry toward Fabian's room. She was in such a rush that she didn't even spare a glance at the bloodstained dagger she'd left lying on the floor. I tossed the cheap candy she'd bought me into the fire and clumsily began packing my things. Since she no longer wanted Reed's life, this poisoned fool had no reason to stay.

After spending three years in a coma following a car accident, I finally woke up. Ever since then, everyone treated me with caution. They were so afraid of something happening to me again that they'd even worked out a schedule to make sure I was never left alone. Each morning, my younger sister, Jemma Cobb, helped me exercise and regain my strength. In the afternoon, my childhood best friend, Kian Mason, kept me entertained with video games. My parents cooked huge dinners to help me recover, while my girlfriend, Elsie Reid, picked me up afterward and drove me home. One night, as Elsie and I lay in bed, I wrapped my arms around her and laughed. "You guys don't have to worry about me so much. I'm a grown man, you know. I promise I'll take good care of myself." But Elsie shook her head, her expression unusually serious. "Kellan, you mean everything to us. We can't bear the thought of losing you again." Her words made me emotional. After everything I'd been through, I couldn't believe how lucky I was to have so many people who loved and cared about me. At least, that was what I thought until the day I accidentally discovered a group chat on Kian's phone. Everyone was involved—my parents, my sister, my best friend, and even my girlfriend. Everyone but me. The group was called "Save Elsie's Love Life." The latest message was from Kian. "Kellan and I just got to the arcade. You're good to bring Jude home now." Confused, I scrolled up and found a message from my sister. Jemma said, "I've got Kellan at the park near our neighborhood. Elsie, don't bring Jude here for breakfast today." Then, I saw one from my parents. "Kellan's finished dinner. Drop Jude off first, then come pick him up." My fingers went numb as I stared at the screen. I tapped on the profile picture of the group member named Jude Johnston, and my blood ran cold. I recognized him immediately. He was the man responsible for the accident that had left me in a coma for three years. Now, he was dating my girlfriend. Worse still, everyone I'd trusted—everyone who'd claimed to love and protect me—had been helping them keep their relationship a secret all along.

It was the fourth anniversary of our relationship. Heather Hilmann took her friend Liam Sherr and me went to have barbecue together. The waiter recognized them and smiled, asking, "Still the usuals?" Heather nodded. It was a table by the window for two, and Liam sat on the inside. The ribeye had slightly charred edges, and the dipping sauce had no onions. She gave the first piece and the last piece to Liam. I sat near the aisle, and there was not even a dipping‑sauce dish in front of me. When they paid the bill, the waiter checked the membership records and reminded them with a smile, "Ms. Hilmann and Mr. Sherr, tonight was your 100th visit. You can take your customized grill pan home." A line of words was engraved on the back of the grill pan: [Heather and Liam, Together Forever.] The date was three years ago. I then remembered that Heather had been at the hospital celebrating my birthday that day. It turned out that the two hours she had been away were not for a company meeting. Liam touched the engraving and asked her with a smile, "After you and Ian Jeffrey get married, will we still have our monthly get‑together?"

Even though this is my eighth time proposing to Beverly Galvan, she still coldly turns me down again. She says that she isn't ready yet and that she needs more time. Since that's the case, I tell myself I will wait as long as it takes. That's when I see it—her and my brother's marriage certificate, posted for everyone to see on her social media. When I question her about it, she merely says in a calm voice, "Timothy's unwell. He can't get too upset, so you'd better not start anything!" They are wearing wedding rings in that photo, and there is a barely visible bump on her belly. In that moment, the storm within me dissipates. Hitting the like button on the post, I type out a comment. "I wish you both a lifetime of joy. May the two of you grow old together!" A year later, a desperate-looking Beverly shows up in front of me, begging that we get back together. Unfortunately for her, her best friend, who was clearly pregnant, steps in with a smile and pushes her aside. "Give it a rest, will you? My husband already has a wife. We can have kids of our own. There's no need for him to be someone's fallback guy."

In the eighth year of our marriage, I was on my way to drop my daughter off at school when I got a call from a hotel. "Is this Ms. Ariel Winters? Your husband, Vince Weaver, left his watch here." My blood went cold. Ariel Winters was my wife. Vince Weaver was my sworn brother. I rushed to my sister, desperate for her to deny it. She didn't even flinch. Instead, she gave me a calm, steady lecture. "Edwin, they already have a child together. Just pretend you don't know. Ariel didn't want you to get hurt. That's the only reason we agreed to keep it from you." Before I could speak, my brother-in-law cut in. "Yeah, Edwin, don't blame Vince for this. You're both fathers. Try to see it from his side." My brother-in-law was another member of our so-called sworn brotherhood. And now, he wanted me to forgive the man who had wrecked my family — and his secret child. Turns out I was the extra piece in every relationship I had: family, friendship, and love.

Queenie Gibbs had a habit of breaking down anything that couldn't be quantified into data, then scoring and evaluating it. Love was no exception. She didn't want children, so I went and got a vasectomy without being asked. Plus five points. When her mother, Charice Gibbs, was hospitalized, I put my entire life savings toward the medical bills. Plus two points. In our third year together, I finally scored high enough to clear her bar for marriage. I'd always believed that as the youngest top-tier data analyst in the country, she simply carried the rationality of her work into our relationship. It didn't mean she didn't love me. Then, the day before our premarital checkup, a notification popped up on her phone. [Subject B: Last night's physical data has been logged.] I tapped it open and found a chart comparing two men. Subject A was me: stability 97, lifestyle compatibility 95, physical attraction 88. Subject B was Bill Hutley, the project consultant who had just joined her company. He scored lower than me on the first two, but his physical attraction was a 99. Below the chart was a video file that had been left open. It was only a dozen or so seconds long, and the footage shook badly. Queenie was pinned beneath him, panting in a way I had never heard before. At the very bottom was one more line: [Recommend increasing intimacy samples.] That night, I pushed the phone in front of her. "'Increase samples.' What does that mean?" Queenie was silent for two seconds. "Exactly what you think it means." "How many times did you sleep with him?" "Seven." She answered methodically, "The first time could have been a fluke, so I verified it six more times." I laughed, but she frowned at me. "You don't need to be bothered by this. In the current overall rankings, you're still number one. Our wedding isn't getting canceled, either." She even explained earnestly, "Marriage is a lifelong decision. I'm just eliminating the margin of error before I get married." In that moment, she was still calculating her margin of error, and I was already done being her sample.

“Do you take this woman to be your wife? For richer or poorer, in sickness and health, will you remain faithful to her for the rest of your life?” I looked at Bridget with deep affection and was just about to speak. “Wait!” shouted someone urgently. I turned around in confusion and looked toward the audience. There stood a man holding a baby in his arms. He said pleadingly, “Bridget, our child is hungry… could we pause the wedding for a moment?” Hearing this, everyone erupted in an uproar. It felt like a bolt of lightning had struck me. Only then did I realize that Bridget had a child with another man. Bridget hurried off the stage, then turned to me coldly and said, “I only agreed to marry you out of obligation. But the moment Vernon appeared, I knew it. There’s no one else I want to marry but him.” So, she took off the ring and dragged the man away without looking back. I stood alone at the end of the aisle and clutched the undelivered ring in my hand, as a flood of bitterness crashed through every corner of my heart.

In Willow Creek, there is an unspoken rule about wedding processions: never retrace your route. But on the day we are supposed to get married, my fiancee, Emma Carter, orders our entire wedding procession to turn around and drive more than 12 miles back the way we've come—just to catch up with another wedding convoy. I am about to get out and demand an explanation when I overhear Emma talking to one of her bridesmaids, Lena Williams. "You drove more than 60 miles just to make it to Ryan's wedding," Lena says. "That's some serious dedication." Then she glances nervously in my direction. "And now you're making us turn around? Aren't you worried Nathan's going to be pissed?" Emma continues directing the drivers to turn the procession around. "Don't worry. He's waited ten years for me. No matter how angry he gets, he'll never actually call off the wedding. "If my family hadn't pressured me so much, I wouldn't have agreed to marry him this easily. "Ryan's biggest wish has always been to marry me, and that's not going to happen now. So turning back to see him off for part of the journey is the least I can do. It's a small way of making up for all those years he spent chasing after me." When the matching wedding bands slip from my hand and disappear beneath the seat, I let out a bitter laugh. So much for finally getting our happy ending after all those years of hardship. Apparently, that is only wishful thinking on my part. I pull out my phone, open my messaging app, and send a woman my location. "Are you still planning to marry me? I'm waiting for you here. Come. Now."

Wendy and James had been married for eight years. One day, Wendy told James that she wanted to have a child with another man, and she wanted to hold a wedding with that man as well. Faced with James's questioning, Wendy didn't beat around the bush. "You're infertile and he's willing to give me a child. We're only having a child and holding a wedding. That's all. We won't be getting a marriage certificate, so he has no effect on your status." James's heart turned cold. He arranged the best wedding for Wendy and the man named "Sean." Wendy was very happy with how obedient James was. When they were saying their vow, James was lying on the operating table all alone and was erasing all his memories of Wendy from his mind.