Male POV Cheating Short Stories & Novels

There were only three of us in the group chat, yet somehow, I was always the one left out. At first, I didn't think much of it. Life was busy at times, right? Besides, Kendra Thatcher had been my girlfriend for seven years, and Josiah Lehmann had been my best friend for eighteen. The thought of either of them deliberately ignoring me had never even crossed my mind. Or at least, that was what I kept telling myself. That morning, I messaged our group chat. "Hey, how about we take a trip to Cedarvale?" Neither of them replied. Hours passed, and my message just sat there, unanswered. … That evening, Josiah suddenly shared a video of some delicious-looking food in Cedarvale. "Gosh, it looks divine!" he wrote. Kendra replied almost immediately. Just like that, they started chatting away as though my earlier message never existed. Before long, they'd exchanged over ninety-nine messages. Seeing them so excited, I figured I'd try asking again. "So, are we going to Cedarvale or what?" The chat went quiet, and neither of them replied. Something about that bothered me more than usual, so I started scrolling through our old messages. The further back I went, the more I realized this wasn't anything new. Just yesterday, I'd mentioned that I was thinking about quitting my job because I was completely burned out. Neither of them had said a word. But the day before that, Josiah had posted a shirtless gym selfie, complaining that all his hard work wasn't paying off. "Oh, shut up. Those abs are ridiculously hot," Kendra had replied. They went back and forth until midnight, yet the moment I suggested we all grab dinner the next day, the conversation stopped. The funny thing was, I actually ran into them at a restaurant the following evening. They were having dinner together. Then, there was the movie Kendra had mentioned last week. She'd shared the trailer in the group, and Josiah immediately said he wanted to watch it. I chimed in, telling them I'd love to go too. Again, neither of them responded. … A few days later, I casually asked Kendra about the movie. "Oh, Josiah and I already watched it," she replied, acting like it was no big deal. Looking back through our conversations, I couldn't believe how many times I'd made excuses for them. I'd told myself they were busy, that they'd forgotten to reply, and that I was probably overthinking things. But now, it was painfully obvious. They weren't too busy to reply. They just didn't want to respond to my texts. I stared at the screen for a long moment before muting the group chat. I didn't leave, confront them, or send a long message demanding to know what I'd done wrong. I was simply exhausted from always being the one trying to hold everything together. … A few days later, I finally quit my job. That same day, my phone lit up with a notification from the group chat. For once, someone was actually talking to me. It was Kendra. "Xavier, my mom keeps asking when we're getting married. Josiah's worried about you, too. Why aren't you answering?" By the time I saw her message, my plane had already landed in Dunridge. I opened the group chat and typed, "You two seem to have plenty to talk about. I shan't interrupt." Then, I sent another text. "Cheers to being single!"

On Christmas Eve, my wife, Abigail Balmer, publicly announced her relationship with her forty-ninth boy toy. [My forever love, @Dwayne Porter.] [My forever love, @Abigail Balmer.] Then she turned to comfort me. "He just lost a dare game, that's all. Don't take it to heart." Everyone mocked me as the man who'd married into money, too spineless to fight back. But I never made a scene. What they didn't know was that I'd struck a deal with the System. Every time Abigail was unfaithful, one year of her lifespan would transfer to me. By my count, of the eighty years she should have lived, she now had exactly one left. All I had to do was survive until the New Year, and she'd meet her natural end. And I would walk away with our three children and inherit the Balmer family's trillion-dollar fortune.

The day of my wedding, my girlfriend, Sherry Jennings, asked me to wait another three weeks for her. It seemed that she had used half her cells to clone her first love so that the dead man would have no regrets in life. The clone only had three weeks to live. During the first week, she beat her fear of heights to go on a Ferris wheel with him, holding him close at the top. During the second week, she used up all her savings to take him to see the aurora and immortalize their love. In the last week, their story touched people around the world, and with countless reporters watching, they kissed until the clone’s heart stopped beating. After that, she came back happily and told me that she wanted to have our long-awaited wedding. Unfortunately, what she came back to was the news of my death.

Mandy York, my girlfriend, was practically a migratory bird that always flew away during summer. Every year, during July and August, which were the hottest months of the year, she would fly off and disappear from the face of the earth. She said that it was because her company gave her a special project abroad that required absolute secrecy from her. She was also not to contact anyone during that period of time. Even when I got into a car accident last year and lay in the ICU for two months, she never called to ask about me. Plenty of times, I had comforted myself and endured the harsh summer alone. One day, I accidentally saw the social media account of a friend of mine living abroad. It was his alternate account. Every year, during July and August, this alternate account would get really active. It would be full of videos and photos about his daily life with his daughter and a “mother” who always had her face hidden with stickers. In the videos, the mother accompanied the daughter to watch fireworks at Disneyland and pick up shells at the beach. Sometimes, I could see the side of her face. There was a mole at the corner of her eyes. I could even see a clear scar at the back of her hand. They were so familiar to me that my blood ran cold. It was Mandy. During the summer holidays, she would vanish for sixty days, and this had lasted for five years. So, she had never been flying off to work. She had gone to her other family. I sat stupefied on the couch and stared at the blinding sun outside. Suddenly, this year’s upcoming summer did not feel so difficult any longer. I picked up my phone and agreed to the marriage my family had arranged for me. Since Mandy refused to stay with me during summer, I was not going to waste my time on her.

On my very first night working the overnight shift at the new hospital I've been transferred to, I run into my wife, Willow Jensen, who claimed she needed to be away on a year-long business trip. Now, she's lying on a gurney outside the delivery room, heavily pregnant, with blood pouring from beneath her. The man kneeling beside her grabs my hand tightly, his desperate pleas ringing in my ears. "Doctor, please! You have to save her!"

Everyone knew Sienna Wolfe had many boyfriends. But I was the only one she publicly recognized as her official boyfriend, all because I was foolish enough to give her everything. Recently, Sienna had become obsessed with rock climbing. To buy her the best gear on the market, I took a part-time job at a high-paying chemical plant. I never expected that job to give me leukemia. When I got the test results, I stood outside the hospital, my hands trembling as I held the test results. I called Sienna in complete despair, telling her I was sick. Yet, all I got was her irritated voice. "Then go to the hospital. What do you want me to do? I'm not a doctor." Just before the call ended, a man's voice came through clearly from her side. "Babe, come try the new gear. I designed this especially for you. It'll fit your body perfectly."

The day my overseas assignment finally ended, I kept my return a secret from Marielle Knox and spent thirteen hours flying home. We'd argued only a few days earlier. Marielle wanted me to keep building my career abroad, but I was determined to come home and marry her. Even as I was about to board, she was still trying to talk me out of it over the phone. "Weston, don't throw away your future for me. As long as we love each other, it doesn't matter whether we get married." Hearing that only made me more certain. The moment I landed, I went straight to a jewelry store, bought a diamond ring, and called my childhood best friend, Chase Davis, to tell him about my proposal plan. A baby was wailing on his end of the line. Chase tried to soothe the child and snapped at me, "Weston Brown, wake up! You've been long-distance for five years, and she keeps putting off the wedding. She obviously doesn't want to marry you. "Marriage is where love goes to die. Ever since my wife had the baby, I've been losing my mind!" I was about to argue when I saw Chase walk out of a baby store, holding a child. "My wife's here. Talk later." He hung up in a hurry and waved toward the curb. A black luxury sedan pulled up in front of him. The door opened, and a woman took the baby from his arms and rocked him with the ease of someone who'd done it a thousand times. Sunlight fell across her profile, and the sight stung my eyes. The wife my best friend had kept secret for two years was Marielle—the girlfriend I'd spent five years loving from the other side of the world.

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.

In this world, there are more ways to deal with a problem than the problem itself. That applies just as well to cheating men. Rich men, especially, will go to absurd lengths just to have more women in their lives. There's no trick too low, no scheme too shameless. Take my boss, for example. He handed over his stunning mistress to me. Honestly, I suspected he couldn't perform in bed, because she came into my bedroom night after night.

To save my daughter, I collected 50,000 plastic bottles. Day after day, I dug through trash, carried them home, and traded them for scraps of hope. However, when I finally hauled them all to the recycling center, I learned their selling price had dropped. The 50,000 bottles were worth only enough to buy my daughter a better urn. Desperate, I held my feverish daughter in my arms as she suffered a seizure. I called my actress wife for help. Her answer was ice-cold. “$5,000 for a fever? Do you think I’m some kind of charity?” The irony was that she had spent $50 million building a private hospital for her screen partner’s dog just hours earlier.

At the dinner table, my wife's best friend suddenly speaks to her in Lytian. "Three years ago, you married Julian in a grand wedding just to help Jace get Julian's letter of forgiveness. Over the years, I've seen Julian fall more and more deeply in love with you. Yet, you're still lying to him. "You gave him sterilization pills but passed them off as his depression medication. Aren't you afraid that he'll fall apart if he finds out the truth?" My wife, Erica Inman, briefly shows a conflicted expression on her face. She then gives a bitter smile and says, "A child unwanted by their mother has no reason to be born. As long as Julian doesn't stand in the way of Jace's happiness, I will keep my promise and stay by his side for the rest of his life." No one knows that I've learned Lytian to keep up with Erica. I stand in the living room and look at the fresh kiss mark on my neck. As I glance at the medication I take regularly for my depression, my whole body turns cold. It turns out that all of Erica's affection toward me was fake. What I thought was my salvation turns out to be nothing but a carefully planned deception. Since that's the case, I'll do my part to make sure they all get what they want.

On the morning we were supposed to leave for our elopement trip to the stunning Calistia Mountains, my girlfriend, Jeanie Portman, was nowhere to be found. Worried something had happened to her, I drove to her family's house to look for her, only to find the whole neighborhood strung with wedding banners and streamers. A big outdoor reception was underway, the tables loaded with food. Jeanie stood there in a white gown, leaning into my foster brother's arms as she poured him a toast. Relatives showered the two of them with compliments, calling them a perfect match, while my father sat at the head table, grinning so wide he could barely close his mouth. I nearly lost it and started toward them, but my mother yanked me into a corner before I could get there. "What's gotten into you, making a scene like this? His birth parents died saving your father and me. Handing Jeanie over to him is the least we can do to pay that debt back." My voice shook as I demanded to know why no one had told me sooner. My mother just gave me a flat, dismissive look. "Because you're a teacher, and you've got too sharp a tongue for your own good. If we'd told you ahead of time, you'd have blabbed it to the whole world, and then how were the two of them supposed to have a proper wedding? "That's enough. Don't make a scene. "You've got a stable job. You won't have any trouble finding someone else. Don't ruin our family peace over some woman." I looked past my mother, toward the red carpet where Jeanie and my foster brother stood glowing with happiness, then at the relatives cheering beside them. Something inside me went hollow.

After three years of marriage, I believed I had the perfect family. My wife, Sarah, was gentle and caring, and our son was bright and adorable. On a rare day when I finished work early, I arrived home to find Sarah asleep, slumped tiredly by the crib. My heart went out to her, and I decided to carry her to our bedroom. As I approached, Sarah's phone screen suddenly lit up. A message appeared: “Sarah, is our son asleep?"

I waited half an hour for a cab in the pouring rain. When one finally arrived, Claire held the door open and spoke to the driver. "My friend has been through something traumatic. Could you take him home first?" Her so-called friend was Adrian Cole, her ex. The driver glanced past her at me, uneasy. "But this gentleman booked the ride." Only then did Claire seem to remember that I was standing there — her actual boyfriend. "He won't mind. I'll pay extra." Once Adrian was inside, she took a picture of the license plate, the way she always had, and reminded the driver—twice—to get him home safely. She didn't ask what I would do. She got into her own car and left. She never drove me to or from work. People might get the wrong idea. I stood alone in the storm for another two hours. Not a single driver accepted my request. Then I saw Adrian's post: a whole gallery of license-plate photos. "All these years, and she still hasn't broken the habit." I zoomed in on the screenshots. From the time they'd been together until now, Claire had taken more than thirteen hundred of those pictures. She was so careful about appearances with me. Yet as Adrian's "friend," she could make sure he got home safely every day. She said she'd forgotten him. But the habit was in her bones, and that hadn't gone anywhere. And suddenly, I knew. I didn't want a relationship where even my safety came second.

On the first day of New Year's, my good buddy, Vincent Wales, sent me a video. “Leon, take a look. Does this woman look like your wife? It’s all over.” In the video, a man and a woman were making out passionately. As the car rocked violently, the woman’s face came into view. It was unmistakably my wife. My blood rushed straight to my head. My hands shook as I dialed her number. “Hello, honey… What’s the matter?” Her breathing was uneven, like she had just been doing something intense. I was about to speak when she suddenly let out a few loud cries. “A-Ah… It’s nothing. I’ll hang up now. I’m just playing cards with friends." With that, all I heard was the dial tone. Playing cards? She had clearly told me she was working overtime!

After getting married, I followed my wife to the desert to help build up a remote research base. After months of severe drought, I applied for 17 ounces of water just to wash my hair. But as station chief, June Sheffield rejected me without hesitation. "The water supply has to go toward cultivating the samples first. You need to learn how to tough it out." Then the next moment, I came across a new post the intern had uploaded on social media. 'Wanted to try an outdoor bath, and Ms. Sheffield approved a whole ton of water without even blinking! She even set up the bath tent herself. I'm so happy.' Furious, I went straight to confront June Sheffield. Usually cold and distant, she softened her tone for once. "Conditions here are harsh. If Morgan can't handle it and decides to leave, the base will end up even more short-staffed. You're one of the core staff members. Once the project pays out, your share alone will be at least four million. An intern like him doesn't get that kind of treatment." In the end, I swallowed my anger. That was, until the first-quarter project wrapped up. When there was still no movement in my account, I nervously contacted headquarters. The moment I gave my identity, the person on the other end sounded stunned. "You're just an intern. What project bonus are you talking about? And the head of the research department has always been Morgan Wilder." I stared at June's signature on the personnel registration list and suddenly understood everything. Without another word, I packed my bags and booked a flight home. Life in the desert was bitterly cold and unforgiving. This time, I was not staying.

Seavora, Carmoria After seven years of a long-distance marriage, I was finally transferred to Leah Lambert's city. On Valentine's Day, I crossed Carmoria with my transfer papers, a big bouquet of roses, and a new diamond ring hidden in the bouquet. I waited outside her office, ready to surprise her. "Babe, where are you?" The second she walked out, I video-called her. I'd been counting down to this moment for years. Her voice was as gentle as ever. "Just got off work. What's up?" "Nothing. Just miss you. Do you miss me?" "Of course I do." A smile tugged at my lips. Thinking about her reaction when she saw me, I stepped toward her. "Really? Then turn around and—" My voice cut out. I froze. Her arm was wrapped around a man in a suit. Then she lifted her head and kissed the man. "If it's not urgent, I'll call you when I'm free. I have something important to do right now." She hung up. I stood in the cold and heard the man tease, "Babe, what's so important?" The woman I'd loved through college and seven years of marriage didn't hesitate. "Being with you." Tears hit the roses. I stared at the diamond ring nestled in the bouquet and let out a bitter laugh. So that's all I am to you? Someone who only matters when it's convenient.

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.

On our anniversary, I stood in the doorway holding the diamond ring I'd just bought, waiting for Crystal Linley to finish her video call. She casually took the ring box, set it aside without a glance, and checked her watch. "The client wants last-minute changes to the proposal. Go ahead and eat without me." I sat down at the table alone. The food tasted like nothing. At midnight, her childhood friend posted a photo of the two of them on Instagram, out on a yacht. Crystal was wearing the dress I'd given her, leaning against his shoulder with a glass of champagne in her hand. The caption read: [She said if I ever come back to her, she'll drop everything and run to me.] I calmly liked the Instagram post. A second later, my phone lit up. "Don't get the wrong idea!" Crystal's voice was frantic. "I swear, next anniversary..." I let out a long breath. "There won't be a next anniversary."

Ten minutes before my childhood friend, Scott Burdett, got married, I personally handed him a bouquet of condoms. He laughed and asked, "Aren't you worried I'll be tapped out by morning?" Caitlyn Harp stood off to one side, her expression hard to read. After Scott left, she adjusted her earrings and studied my reflection in the mirror. "Actually, I'm the one marrying him today. I'm going to use up every last one of those condoms you bought tonight." I froze. She laughed. "Just kidding. I'll explain everything after the ceremony." After that, time seemed to blur. I stood in the best man's spot and watched the two people I loved most walk down the aisle and exchange rings before the officiant.