เรื่องสั้นและนิยายในฉากMale POV Face Slapping

Everyone cheered on the most handsome student in our elective class, Jack Anderson, to reveal his ideal type. “My future wife has to be at least five feet five inches tall, and her parents must be professors. She also has to be beautiful and a top student in her field…” While everyone cheered, I immediately looked up. Why did the description… sound like my girlfriend, Cindy Swift? The next second, the professor standing next to the podium, Liam Swift, immediately smiled obsequiously. “That’s great! If Cindy hears this, she’ll be very happy! “You should meet her so that she wouldn’t go overseas over some silly guy.” Our classmates were roaring with laughter. I lowered my eyes and stared at the text message my parents had sent me. [You rascal! Are you sure you want to accompany your girlfriend overseas? No one will take over our family business, then!]

I suddenly receive a message from my girlfriend, Sophia Rothwood, half an hour before my last test for the SAT. "I'm waiting for you in Classroom 901." I assume that she wants to give me a small surprise since I'm about to finish my SAT. Instead, I see her throw my ID and admission ticket into a brazier the moment I enter the classroom. I rush toward her, throwing all caution to the wind as I try to scoop the remains of my ID and admission ticket out of the fire. "Why did you do that?" I demand. Sophia holds me back. Her voice is calm when she says, "No particular reason. It's just that your results are always better than Louis'. I'm getting a bit tired of coaxing him. I intentionally let you watch this happen so that you understand what's going on and miss the test of your own accord." My ID and admission ticket have burned to ashes by the time she's done speaking. Sophia pauses for a moment as she takes in my stunned expression. "Did you know that the globally-renowned enterprise, Grant Group, has already sent someone to contact me? They plan to give me a million dollars in funding every year and provide specialized training for me. "I'll become Grant Group's youngest female executive within five years. Do you still think that you'll be a good match for me at that point? Louis is different. He's the son of a prestigious family. He's the better candidate to stay by my side during my time in university. "Stop with your delusions. Let's end our relationship now." I let out an indignant scoff, turn around, and leave. Sophia has no idea that Grant Group is my family's business. The million-dollar annual funding and specialized training she speaks of are part of a promise that I made with Dad before SAT. The condition is that I have to achieve first place for the exams. However, getting first place isn't important anymore. What matters is that Sophia's future has turned completely dark.

There are certain things one should never mess with. Like someone else's final exam revision notes, for example. Or a life-saving online calculus course. And a chicken curry meal ordered by a college student who has been starving for eight whole hours.

A high-profile rape case rocks Corvessa City. During the autopsy, I examine the deceased's private area as part of the standard procedure. My wife, a police captain, blows up in front of the onlookers. "Don't we have a female medical examiner in our unit? Do you realize you're re-victimizing the deceased? And your wife is standing right here. Are you really that desperate?" The crowd turns on me in a heartbeat. Bowing to public pressure, the department suspends me and tells me to keep reporting in at my own expense. I hand in my resignation on the spot. Without me, nobody in Corvessa City is going to crack this case.

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!"

My best friend, Billy Steele, gets jilted at the altar by his heartless fiancée, Megan Landry. In tears, he begs my fiancée, Anna Faulkner, to step in and save the day. Anna reassures me, "Craig, Billy and I have known each other since childhood. We're closer than friends. Today's wedding is just a formality. You and I are getting married next week anyway, so think of this as a chance to get familiar with the wedding proceedings." For the sake of our friendship, I grit my teeth and nod in agreement. I watch as Anna, who is supposed to be a bridesmaid, becomes Billy's bride instead. Eyes brimming with love, Anna loops her arm through Billy's during the ceremony. When the officiant asks if she is willing to marry Billy, she answers with even more conviction than she does when I propose to her. I keep reassuring myself that it's all just an act and that I shouldn't take it seriously. But after they exchange rings, the officiant smiles and announces, "The groom may now kiss the bride." The guests immediately erupt into cheers and urge them to kiss. Billy pounds his chest and promises me, "Craig, don't worry. We'll just fake the kiss with a clever angle." I take him at his word. But in the very next second, Anna rises onto her tiptoes and pulls Billy into a deep, passionate kiss right in front of everyone.

On the first day of my internship, I discover that there's another intern who has the exact same name as I do. During a trip to the toilet, I overhear some colleagues gossiping. "Did you hear? One of the interns from this batch is actually the chairman's son! I think his name is… Michael Lane." "But there are two Michael Lanes among the interns this time! Which one is it?" "Shh! I heard that he's humble and wants to keep a low profile because he wants to experience life as one of us commoners." "Then, it has to be the one from your team, the one in the white shirt and the Simple-branded canvas bag—you know, the brand that sells plain and simple-looking items that are actually super expensive. Our Michael is wearing a Rolex on his first day of work! It's as though he's afraid others won't know that he's rich. I bet it's all just an act!" "I agree. As if someone truly rich would be flaunting their wealth like that!" I wait till their voices have faded away before returning to my desk and glancing at my Simple canvas bag. At that moment, my phone vibrates with a message from my mother. "How's your first day of work going? Are you getting along well with your colleagues?" I reply, "It's okay, but there seems to be a misunderstanding going on." "What misunderstanding?" I think it over for a bit, but don't answer. After all, it's not like I can tell her, "Mom, you told me to keep a low profile, but because of that, the entire company now thinks that I'm the chairman's son." But I'm actually not!

My stingy childhood friend Shane suddenly invited everyone to an expensive meal and slammed the keys to his brand-new car onto the table. Everyone at the table started cheering. They said Shane had struck it rich and was finally going to help his friends out. I was the only one who felt something was off. How could the guy who never repaid a single loan suddenly be this generous? I didn't touch a drop of alcohol. I smiled and played along while secretly having someone look into Shane's company. Sure enough, right there at the dinner, Shane showed up with an investor and pushed a contract in front of me. "Bro, this project is a guaranteed money-maker. We'll split the equity fifty-fifty. It's a rare opportunity." I flipped to the third page of the contract. The truth was right there in black and white. I understood everything. That meal had never been free after all.

The day Ruth Frost and I meet each other's parents for the first time, my mother, Gladys Carey, ends up in the hospital after suffering a severe allergic reaction. I rush to the hotel's front desk and demand, "I told you repeatedly that there couldn't be any seafood in the food! How could this happen?" After checking the reservations, the staff member looks at me cautiously. "Mr. Goodman, Ms. Frost booked two tables with us today. For one table, she requested less onion, extra garlic, no cilantro, and mild spice. There were no dietary restrictions listed for the other table. We never received any instructions to leave out seafood sauce." I freeze as I look at the food order record the staff member hands me. The special instructions are written out in meticulous detail. "Mr. Knapp doesn't eat onions. Mrs. Knapp likes garlic. Marvin doesn't eat cilantro. Please make the dishes mildly spicy." Marvin Knapp is Ruth's childhood friend. She carefully notes every detail of the table she reserves for his family, as though she's terrified of getting even the smallest thing wrong. But for Mom's table, the special instructions section is completely blank. Before today's meeting, I message Ruth at least ten times, reminding her that Mom has a seafood allergy so severe it could kill her. Every single time, she replies, "I know. Don't worry." But she doesn't remember at all. Ruth forgets something that could cost Mom her life, yet she remembers every last detail of the Knapp family's food preferences. Thinking about the light glowing above the ER doors, I suddenly realize that the woman I've loved all these years has never really cared about me at all.

At our seventh wedding anniversary dinner, I noticed something strange. My best friend, Darren Blackburn, who had always been single, had suddenly changed his profile picture to a couple’s photo. "So you’ve been hiding a girlfriend from me?" I joked with a grin. "When are you bringing her around? I should at least meet her and make sure she’s good enough for you." He just smiled and shook his head, brushing it off. "Not yet," he said. "It’s not the right time." Then Deanna Cunningham, my wife’s voice called out from the kitchen, "Babe, come help me tie my apron." I hadn’t even pushed my chair back yet when Darren was already on his feet, jogging over. He stepped behind her, wrapped his arms around her waist, and tied the apron strings for her. I froze where I stood. Seeing the look on my face, he quickly tried to explain, "I’m just used to helping out at home. My mom’s always bossing me around. It’s basically muscle memory. Don’t read into it." I didn’t argue or make a scene. I kept my expression neutral and carried on with the dinner as if nothing had happened. Only after all the guests had left did I turn to Deanna, who was clearing the table, and say calmly, "Let’s get a divorce." She slammed the dishes down with a loud crash and glared at me. "Seriously? Over something like that? Just because he tied my apron once?"

Because I ate three of the company's apples, my boss fired me on the spot. "This company has no use for an employee like you, someone who abuses their position to help themselves to company property." For ten whole years, I stood by this studio as it grew from a tiny backroom operation into what it is today. The toughest orders, the most difficult clients, the projects that left everyone gasping for air. Nearly all of them were carried on my shoulders. And now, just three apples had become my boss's "proof" that I was "misappropriating company resources." Worse, they got me branded as a petty freeloader. I didn't argue. I took out my phone and dialed Matt Kilcher's number. "Mr. Kilcher, about that million-dollar photo shoot we finalized, there's no need to sign with this studio. Every order from here on out goes to my new team."

By the time the Langford family takes me home, I've spent 18 years selling pancakes in a small town. I can't play the piano and know nothing about wine. I can't even tell which fork or knife to use at a banquet. Compared to my adopted sister, Lila Langford, who receives an elite education from a young age, I'm like a clown who accidentally stumbled into high society. Lila wins a gold medal in an international competition at 16. I'm still out on the street chasing customers for two dollars. Six years later, Lila joins the board at Langford Corporation, while all I want is to buy my adopted mother, Cate Brown, a fridge that doesn't leak. My parents, Rick Dunn and Beth Langford, feel bad for me and bring me home, letting Lila run the business my grandfather, Gary Langford, left behind for now. Lila handles the deals, meets with clients, and talks to the media for me, while I just visit exhibitions, play with cars, and learn how to be an heir. Everyone begins to think that Langford Corporation won't get by without Lila. Then, Lila brings in a newly graduated intern, Daniel Wagner. Right there, in front of all the senior executives, he throws a stack of reimbursement forms at my feet. "Mr. Langford, the company isn't your ATM. You've not contributed. What makes you think it's okay to spend all of Ms. Langford's hard-earned money?" Lila steps in front of him. She looks at me, tired. "He's just trying to do the right thing. Don't make things difficult for him." The next day, Daniel freezes all my bank cards and uses my office as a smoking lounge. They all expect me to panic and run to Lila for help. But they don't know that Grandpa taught me only one thing before he died. "Take your time choosing a manager. But anyone who dares to treat your property as their own should be kicked out with nothing."

My buddy, Adam Page, calls me and says that his mom is hospitalized, and he can't rush back in time. He asks me to submit his competition entry that is due tonight. We're both in the competition, but I have already submitted my entry. I'm just about to say yes to helping him when my mouse suddenly jerks. "Don't you dare click it! If you submit his entry for him, you'll lose your first-place prize and the 20,000 dollars prize money! He'll even go on livestream and accuse you of stealing his work, saying that you cost him the prize money and caused his mom to die because she couldn't afford treatment. You'll be torn apart by online bullying, saddled with a huge debt, and end up losing everything!" My hands shake, and I immediately stop what I'm doing. My mouse jerks again. I close the page, create a group chat on WhatsApp, and add the advisor, Colby Jackman, and the teacher, Irene Dawson, who is in charge of the project.

I've decided to hire Queenie Sullivan, an impoverished student with excellent grades, as my tutor in my studies. However, she asked me whether or not she could bring another student named Timothy Dunn with her to the tutor session. After I turned her request down politely, Timothy left while looking crestfallen. But he got into an accident immediately afterward. Queenie continued to tutor me. Gradually, we started dating, and we got married later on. Life was amazing after our marriage… or so it seemed. Unfortunately, I was diagnosed with stomach cancer. On the night when my cancer tormented me to no end, Queenie locked me up at home and watched as I painted the floor with the blood I hacked out. "You owe Timothy this much, Zachary. It's your turn to have a taste of despair." Only then did realization dawn on me. It turned out that Queenie had been hating me all these years. When I open my eyes again, I've returned to the day Queenie has asked me if she can bring Timothy along with her to the tutor session.

On the day of our wedding ceremony, Nalani Smith shows up with her family of three to marry me. Her younger brother, Felix Smith, follows closely behind her, holding a child in his arms. I stub out my cigarette and ask apathetically, "Why don't I step aside and let you two have each other?" Tears immediately well up in her eyes, and she raises her hand to swear that there's absolutely nothing going on between them and that all those rumors are nothing but malicious slander from outsiders. I nod. When the officiant announces that it's time for the couple to exchange rings, Felix abruptly drops to his knees. Pointing his finger at her, his voice trembles. "But I'm the one you love!" Nalani neither confirms nor denies it. She merely stands there, tears streaming down her face. Noticing the anguish on her face, I fling her hand away and push her straight into his arms. "Go ahead. No one's stopping you from keeping it in the family," I say nonchalantly.

At the research institute, I was the odd one out. I came in late and left early every single day, and I slacked off and napped at my desk. Yet everyone at the institute had long since gotten used to it. That was because I was the only one who could crack the nightmare projects nobody else could. That is, until the new deputy director, Brad Michielsen, was parachuted in. He said my attitude was unacceptable and handed the $80,000 bonus I'd rightfully earned to Tessa Lynch instead. Tessa was the institute's perfect-attendance poster child. She clocked in on time every day, yet she couldn't even write decent code. In his office, Brad clapped me on the shoulder and said, "Young man, you need to keep your feet on the ground." When I refused to accept it, he only came down on me harder. He called me out by name in every meeting. In the end, he ordered me to read a 3,000-word self-reflection out loud in front of everyone. The moment he finished speaking, I pulled out the "self-reflection" I'd prepared long ago: a letter of resignation. What he didn't know was that three months earlier, a leading company had tried to poach me with a seven-figure salary and a lab of my own. Out of respect for Dean Perrin, the institute's longtime director, his friendship with my father, and the freedom he'd once promised me, I'd never responded to that offer. Now that my freedom was gone, it made sense for me to take up that seven-figure salary offer.

The factory had just finished expanding when my wife insisted on bringing her older brother in as our driver. The very next day, my brother-in-law sold my $45,000 business car to a used car dealer. Not only that, he had the nerve to lecture me. "You're just a small business owner," he said. "Driving a car this expensive is a waste. You might as well sell it and buy gold for my sister. At least that'll appreciate in value." I swallowed my anger and tried to explain. "I've never treated her poorly. I've never missed a holiday gift. Compared to what others spend, driving this car is already modest." He flew into a rage instantly. "You still dare talk back? My sister gets treated like a maid by your mother every day, and you pretend not to see it. "Driving a luxury car, pretending to be rich, probably thinking about keeping a mistress. As long as I'm around, don't even think about it. "In my family, women handle the money. You'd better transfer all your assets to my sister." I turned to leave, but he punched me straight in the eye. When my wife rushed over, she did not defend me. Instead, she scolded me for looking down on her family. While I was being treated for my eye injury, she even allowed her brother to sell all the gold and expensive watches in our house. They used the money to buy a car for his son and even sold the house just to show off their wealth. Meanwhile, she went online and complained about how miserable her married life had been. I was so furious I was speechless. In the end, I called the police. Since they were so eager to get their hands on my money, I decided they would not get a single cent.

My best friend, Dominic Vale, and his girlfriend have created a couple's channel. Lately, their channel has gone viral on the Internet. I subscribe to their channel instantly. Every time they upload a new reel, I'll always watch it. But I keep having a feeling that Dominic's girlfriend, whose looks are censored in the videos, acts just like my wife, Cara Hartley. When I bring it up in front of Dominic, he punches me in the chest. "Oliver Beckett, you lovesick bastard! You see your darling wife in everyone! At this point, I'm going to get really jealous!" I just chuckle stupidly while rubbing my chest. Then, I quickly change the topic. When Cara's company goes on a field trip, I decide to drag Dominic along. Unexpectedly, something occurs during our flight back to the city. An air stewardess distributes notes to all the passengers so that we can write down our wills. With a trembling hand, I finish scribbling my note. When I glance at Dominic and Cara, I realize that they've written each other's names on their notes. Then, Cara turns on her camera, which shows both her and Dominic in the same frame. "Dominic, I'm very happy that I get to be with you during my final moments in life. Everyone, we won't be updating this channel anymore. Goodbye." But she fails to notice the way my face has gone pale outside the frame. Thankfully, the plane lands safely on the tarmac. All of us are still alive. Instead of kicking up a ruckus, I tear the note in my hands before opening the car door. "What are you still standing around for? Get in."

To keep my grandmother's failing organs stable, I simmered a medicinal broth for her every day and strictly controlled her diet. Then the Whitmore family's long-lost real son was brought home. "You're feeding my grandmother something that looks like slop? Julian Whitmore, what kind of heart does a fake son like you have?" The butler wiped sweat from his forehead. "Sir, this is Mr. Whitmore's specially prepared medicinal broth. The old madam's been drinking it for years, and her health has only--" "Shut up!" Tyler Whitmore threw an all-foreign-language menu in my face. "I've consulted top nutritionists overseas. What Grandma needs now is protein!" "I've had the finest bluefin tuna flown in. From now on, I'll handle Grandma's diet myself." My grandma, Irene Whitmore, stayed silent. She merely glanced at me, which counted as approval. I forced out a smile and turned to leave. "Fine. Then take good care of her." They had no idea Grandma had been poisoned with a rare tropical toxin. That bowl of medicine was a suppressant I had prepared specifically for her. Once she stopped taking it and touched seafood or other triggering foods, the poison would backlash instantly.

I'm the only university student in the village. But my entire family praises my cousin, Calvin Meyer, who has graduated from a vocational school, for being a talented person. What I've discovered is that Calvin's so-called talent actually comes from him voicing my thoughts. When I want to recite a poem as a toast to the guests, Calvin quickly says the poem out loud, resulting in everyone applauding for him. Naturally, Calvin takes the initiative to show off his "flair" for poetry in front of Barbara Sullivan, a well-known professor, by reciting the poetry that I've thought up. Because of that, she has taken a fancy to him. My uncle, Gary Meyer, uses the opportunity to insult me for being a dull bookworm who doesn't know how to socialize with others. On my grandpa's 80th birthday, my aunt, Sierra Meyer, who runs a huge business on her own, brings her family back to the village for the occasion. Uncle Gary arranges for me and Calvin to prepare a speech of our own so that we can convince Aunt Sierra to extend a helping hand to the youngsters' careers in the family. At the banquet, Calvin shoots up to his feet with his wine glass raised. He shoots me a smug look at that moment. Meanwhile, I just keep smiling before I begin thinking about the shocking gossip featuring Aunt Sierra and her family.