Cerita Pendek & Novel Male POV Regret

I go undercover at my family's car dealership to get a firsthand look at how things are running on the ground. On my very first day, however, I made the mistake of selling a car to the most insufferable customer imaginable—Daniel Dawson. It all starts when I casually mention that free lunch is one of the perks we offer car owners. Daniel takes that as an open invitation to turn our dealership into his personal buffet, showing up with his entire family almost every day. Whatever food is left over, he packs up and takes home. He even has the nerve to snatch takeout meals right out of my coworkers' hands. The employees are furious, but none of them dare to speak up. After all, Daniel's cousin, Lily Collins, is the dealership's sales director, and no one wants to risk getting on her bad side. Today, though, he finally goes too far. The cafeteria hasn't prepared his favorite wagyu steak, so he throws a full-blown tantrum in the showroom, driving away two customers who are moments away from closing their deals. That's the last straw. I've had enough of his entitled behavior, so I step in to put a stop to it. Daniel flies into a rage and shoves me to the ground. "Who the hell do you think you are, you pathetic nobody? My cousin is the sales director! All it takes is one word from me, and you'll be out of here before the day's over!" When he sees me pull out my phone to call the police, he completely loses it. He grabs a small can of custom-mixed automotive paint that's been prepared for a customer's vehicle delivery and dumps the entire thing over me. "You still want to call the cops? I'll teach you a lesson you won't forget!" I simply smile. Daniel has no idea what he's just done. The paint he's poured all over me is Starlight Chameleon Paint, a specialty finish that headquarters has just flown in from overseas. It costs 1,000 dollars per gram. I pick up the POS terminal, glance at Daniel and begin calculating the damage. "This is Starlight Chameleon Paint, a specialty finish that headquarters just had flown in from overseas. It costs 1,000 dollars per gram. Each can contains 600 grams, bringing the total to exactly 600,000 dollars." I hold out the payment terminal and give him a pleasant smile. "So, are you paying by card, or would you rather go to prison?"

After spending five years in Virtue School, I was a machine that dutifully carried out every order. Seeing me staying as silent as a grave, my father exclaimed happily, "Jojo's such a good boy now. Come on, let's eat! Let's celebrate!" Hearing the order to eat, I sprang to my feet, grabbed a plate, and stayed on all fours, shoving food into my own mouth with my own hands. My sister Josie shot me a look of disgust. "Mom! Dad! How has he improved?! He's even more annoying now!" On the other hand, the culprit who made me like this—the adopted orphan of my mother's fallen comrade—was suddenly tearing up, his voice cracking. "Sorry, brother… I didn't know you'd hate me for so long. "If you hate me that much, I will go to my mother. I'm more than content after your parents have taken care of me for so long." My brain, essentially lobotomized by shock therapy, couldn't understand such complex sentences. So I only watched as he gritted his teeth and pressed his dinner knife against his own neck. My parents promptly leaped up to stop him, while Josie bellowed at me, "No! If anyone should die, it's Joseph! He's such a jinx, ruining the mood here as soon as he comes back!" It was another complex sentence, but my mind caught the order this time. 'Die. Joseph.' Without hesitation, I scrambled to my feet, dashed toward the open window, and jumped.

Back when Elaine and I are most in love, I'm a renowned financial reporter, while Elaine Crowley is a rising star in capital circles. However, on the day I'm supposed to interview her, she stands me up once again. My boss, Lisa Donica, waves a limp finger at me and sneers. "You've been sleeping together for eight years, and you still can't land an interview with her? Has she already gotten bored of you? But I guess that makes sense. Some men don't respect themselves—they throw themselves at women and expect to be worth something!" I ignore her and step outside to call Elaine. But the moment I turn around, I find her Cullinan parked right outside. A surge of joy rushes through me. I'm just about to call out to her when the car door opens. Elaine, with her head bowed, carefully steps out with my coworker, their bodies far too close for comfort. Lisa shoots me a sideways glance. "Your woman is letting your biggest rival put his arm around her waist? Luke Tilghman, you've been cheated on!" My eyes fall on the Cullinan. I press my lips together and make a call. "Send a crew over. It's time to take out the trash!"

I've raised my son, Caleb Bennett, for nine years, but today I found out he was never mine. Claire Bennett, my wife, shamelessly tells me to leave with nothing. She says Caleb's real father is Lincoln Lancaster, heir to the most powerful family in Berglaton. The Lancaster family has few direct heirs left, so if Lincoln acknowledges Caleb as his son, Lincoln can easily surpass his frail uncle and become the rightful successor. Caleb says, "You think you deserve to be my dad? My real father could crush your whole family with a snap of his fingers!" Margaret Quigley, Claire's mother, adds, "If Claire hadn't gotten pregnant with Lincoln's child back then, do you really think we'd have let someone like you marry into our family?" I don't fight back. I just sign the divorce papers in silence. After that, I take out my phone and call my father, James Lancaster, who has been waiting for me in Berglaton all these years. "Come pick me up on Christmas Eve," I say. "I'm ready to go home and take over the family."

My fiancee fell in love with a broke student she's been sponsoring. She insists on breaking off our engagement no matter what. She turns a deaf ear to all the advice friends and family give her. My father gets so worked up that his blood pressure skyrockets. Meanwhile, my mother comes close to fainting and almost ends up in the hospital. My family becomes a laughingstock among the elite overnight. But no one realizes that we're already discussing countermeasures. My mother pulls out her phone. "Why don't we set you up with the most beautiful woman in Seabrook?" My father says coldly, "End the partnership. Cut off the one-billion-dollar support fees to her family." My lips curl into a smile. "Mind if I handle both myself?"

Asher Pearce is a notoriously stubborn and wilful heir in Fantonia's social circles. Despite his striking good looks and prestigious family background, his wild and uninhibited personality makes every woman want to stay away from him, except for Regina Gleason, his childhood friend who grew up alongside him. When he wants to go street racing, she maps out a safe route for him. When he gets into a fight, she quietly hands him a cigarette afterward to calm him down. When he's hungover from a full night of drinking, she learns how to make his favorite hangover food from the household staff. People often say that Regina would simply hand Asher the knife with a smile even if he told her that he wanted to commit murder. Or, in other words, she simply always puts up with him and tolerates his behavior unconditionally. However, everything changes on the day of their wedding.

My girlfriend, Jade Swanson, was very respectful toward her teachers. Every time we went out on a date, she even invited my single male teacher, Oliver Graham, along. Three for dinner. Three at the movies. Even when we traveled, it was three people sharing a room. I got jealous and lost my temper, but she only said, "Oliver is your mentor. Making him happy is equivalent to helping you build a good relationship. You're not very capable. Since we were little, haven't I always helped you smooth things out? You're a man, so don't be so petty!" On Valentine's Day, I finally passed my housemanship. Jade hired an outdoor band half a month in advance to celebrate for me. She said, "From now on, the three of us will no longer go out together. It's just going to be two." I waited for a full six hours until early morning, soaked under the rainstorm, yet the venue remained empty. Shivering, I made my way back to the hospital break room, where a warm, cozy light spilled from inside. Jade was carefully drying Oliver’s wet hair, her tone tinged with playful reproach. "You insisted on going out even though it was raining. What if you caught a cold?" Oliver smiled with a gentlemanly charm. "I was just going to get some candles. Jade, thank you for spending my birthday with me." Subconsciously, I opened my chat with Jade again. There were still no new messages from her. I gave a self-deprecating smile. It turned out they were "the two" she mentioned: she and Oliver. Fine then. In that case, I would stop being the invisible third wheel in their story.

When my wife, Hazel Zimmerman, is diagnosed with a terminal disease, she insists on divorcing me just to set me free. I refuse to do so. Instead, I travel all over the world to seek doctors and treatment remedies in hopes of finding Hazel a cure. I keep going at it until I start vomiting blood from exhaustion. But as soon as I reach home, I overhear Hazel bragging to her best friend smugly. "Brandon, that idiot, actually thinks that I really have cancer! I just wanted to use this excuse to divorce him so I could go on a world trip with Nathan. "Once I've had my fun, I'll claim that I'm cured of my disease. Then, I'll remarry Brandon again." "Do you really think Brandon will believe your excuse?" the best friend asks. Hazel just sneers in disdain. "That idiot loves me so much that he can't live without me. Ever since he found out that I have cancer, he's been crying his eyes out. What can he tell, anyway?" When Hazel brings up divorce once again, I don't hesitate to accept it this time.

On the 30th day my wife, Sonia Child, gave me the cold shoulder; she suddenly suggested that we go on a trip to reconcile our relationship. However, the moment we landed, she cut up my identification document and smashed my phone, leaving me to fend for myself on a remote island. Someone asked if she had gone too far, but Sonia caressed her belly and said with disdain, "It's his fault for being so petty. All I wanted to do was give Eddie a test-tube baby, yet he started making a fuss about getting a divorce. "The baby will be born in eight months. Henry won't go hungry on the island when water and food have been provided. He'll just suffer a little." Eight months later, my happy wife held her son in her arms while asking her assistant, Robert Larkin, "It's been so long. Why hasn't he made a fuss about coming home?" Sonia had no idea that I had died on the island on the very first day I was there.

My whole family was sent to prison. I was forced to marry into the household of the regent princess in order to keep them safe. On our wedding night, she pinned me on the bed and twirled herself all around me like we were deeply in love. When morning came, I thought I had protected my family. But then the royal decree arrived. My entire family had been sentenced to execution. I kneeled outside the princess' residence and begged for mercy. I groveled until my forehead bled, but still, I refused to stop. The princess looked down at me and sneered. "Michael Shaw, if your father hadn't leaked the secret, I would never have ended up in that deadly situation. My leg would never have been broken."

As a future son-in-law, I spent $30,000 to host a Thanksgiving dinner for my fiancee’s family. I was just raising my glass, about to propose a toast. But my fiancée Tiffany Spencer’s childhood friend, Howard Hall, beat me to it. He stood up and said to my father-in-law, Dan Spencer. “Mr. Spencer, thank you for letting Tiffany give me a son.” I froze. Feeling touched, Dan said to Howard. “You’re a grateful young man. Since you and Tiffany grew up together, it’s only right that she’d have a child with you.” Everyone present nodded in agreement. No one thought there was anything wrong. Tiffany eventually noticed me standing off to the side. She offered an explanation. “Don’t get the wrong idea. Howard has no intention of ever getting married. He’d be lonely in his old age without a child. I just did him a favor. “You already have me. Whether we have children or not, it makes no difference.” Dan shot me a stern look. “This is a Thanksgiving dinner. If anyone dares to cause trouble today, get out.” Howard smiled. “Don’t be so glum, all of you. Brendon has always been generous. He certainly wouldn’t hold a petty little thing like this against anyone.” He walked over to me and raised his glass. “If Tiffany and I were really together, you wouldn’t have stood a chance to marry her. “From now on, you’ll be this child’s godfather. The three of us will raise this child together.” I did not take the glass from Howard’s hand. Then, I glanced at Tiffany again. She motioned for me not to make a scene. A lump formed in my throat. For a moment, I felt utterly resigned. I sent a message to my professor, who wanted me to be his son-in-law. [Prof. Wilson, does your daughter know about my situation?] Alfred Wilson, who was also my academic advisor, replied instantly. [She does. As long as you’re willing, the marriage is a done deal.] I replied, [Prof. Wilson, I’m willing.]

After being released from my three-year sentence, Zoe Sanders finally found me in an underground fight club. The moment she saw me, she grabbed me by the collar and punched me across the face, her eyes burning red with fury. "Henry Goldman, who gave you the nerve to disappear like this? "And what the hell have you done to yourself?" I wiped the blood from the corner of my mouth and laughed carelessly. "One punch, one hundred thousand. "If you’re still angry, feel free to keep going. I could use the money for this year’s rent." Her fists trembled uncontrollably, but her voice softened. "Come home with me... apologize to Ronald Green. "He’s always been kind-hearted. He already forgave you for framing him." Her gaze swept over the scars covering my body, something unreadable flickering in her eyes. "Look at yourself. Covered in blood like this... what’s the difference between you and a stray dog digging through garbage?" My body stiffened. Then I turned and walked away. What she did not know was this: In prison, blood and violence were the only ways I learned to survive. "Don’t forget," she shouted after me, "I’m still your fiancée!" My footsteps stopped. How could I forget? Three years ago, on the night of our engagement, Ronald drugged me and sent me to a black-market auction. I was stripped of all dignity and sold like merchandise. That night, I became the laughingstock of the entire city. And the person who signed the papers that sold me… was my fiancée herself.

My father is one of the wealthiest men in the country, a name everyone knows but almost never sees. My mother is the devoted wife standing behind him, the one who actually raises me. She always tells me my father looks down on us for being country people, that he calls us ungrateful dogs who can never be won over no matter how well they're fed. He sends me only 200 dollars a month for me to live on. I hate him for it. Then one day he shows up at my university without warning. He points at the tray in front of me and frowns. "I send you 50,000 dollars a month, and this is what you eat?"

I am Carlton Helfer, the most useless alchemy student in Crucible. Whenever I tried to craft pills, I somehow blew up the entire compound to pieces. So, my teacher, Caspian Hemlock, never allowed me to touch a cauldron, and my female peers always took the blame for me. Then, Zephyr Tierra arrived in town. He was a once-in-a-millennium prodigy at pill crafting. He swore he could raise our order to glory, and he loathed worthless trash like me above all else. So, he organized a pill-crafting tournament with my female peers, using me as a negative example every single day. On the day of the Arch-Alchemist’s election, he and my female peers drugged me with a crippling draught and cast me into the Miasma Woods. I died, but my soul stayed. I bound myself to a Zero to Hero System. The system spoke, “Carlton, you have fulfilled the prerequisite: A Wretched Death. The First Alchemist’s Legacy acquired.” When I opened my eyes again, I had returned to the day Zephyr Tierra arrived in town. This time, when I flicked my finger, Enneaphyllon, an herb extinct for ages, sprouted from my palm. Zephyr’s eyes went wide. “I-Impossible!” I sneered and said, “Don’t you know that a true arch-alchemist doesn’t need a cauldron?” Every herb and every tree in the whole of Crucible was my elixir.

The day Dad brought my ashes home, Mom, who had claimed for years to be suffering from severe postpartum depression, suddenly told the truth. "Actually, I made the illness up. "We were never short on money, either. My company took off years ago. You never had to work six jobs a day until you nearly collapsed." Dad froze, then looked up at her in disbelief. Mom went on nonchalantly as if she were discussing nothing important. "And that day on the highway, it wasn't because my depression flared up and I lost control, leaving Caleb at the rest stop by himself. "He was spoiled by you. He actually dared to talk back to Adrian, so I left him there on purpose to teach him a lesson." Dad's eyes grew redder and redder. After a long moment, he forced one question through his locked throat. "Why?" Mom gave a light laugh. At the red light, she reached over and touched his earlobe, as if she were talking about a tiny, harmless joke. "Because you kept using my love for you as an excuse to bully Adrian. It was just a small punishment. "Now the punishment is over. Daniel, you really have suffered these past six years. I'll make it up to you from now on. "What about Caleb? Children recover quickly. He should be better by now, right? Why didn't he come home with you?" Dad looked at her through tears. Two seconds later, he suddenly laughed. With trembling fingers, he patted the urn in his arms. "He's here."

"Mr. Rogers, are you sure you want to do this? Noelle is only five—" I cut the lawyer off and signed my name on the authorization form. "I am." Outside the window, rain poured down in sheets. I looked up at the office building across the street. Behind the floor-to-ceiling windows on the thirty-seventh floor, Rachel Lloyd, the president of Lloyd Group, was in a meeting. She wore a perfectly tailored white suit, her expression icy and composed. Every gesture carried the commanding presence of the queen of the business world. No one knew that this woman was my wife, at least in the eyes of the law. Even fewer people knew that we had a five-year-old daughter. It had been three years. For all three of those years, I had worked as an ordinary driver for her company, driving her to and from work every day. "Mr. Rogers, turn left. Mr. Rogers, stop here." That was all I ever heard from her. She never gave me so much as a second glance when other people were around, as if we truly were nothing more than an employer and her driver. Noelle had learned to call me ‘Dad’ when she was two, but she had never dared call Rachel ‘Mom’. Rachel had made one thing very clear. "Don't let me hear you calling me that in public." Noelle had been a good girl. She never called her Mom again. However, I knew what happened every night. She would curl up in bed, clutching the one stuffed doll Rachel had ever bought for her, and whisper into the darkness, "Goodnight, Mommy. You looked so pretty today. Will you come see me tomorrow?" Rachel had bought that doll three years ago at a convenience store on a whim. It had cost her only $29.90. To Noelle, however, it was priceless. She had held on to it like a treasure for three long years.

In order to take care of my wife, Mildred Dale, who kept going into lunatic episodes thanks to the side effects of a car crash, I spent all of my assets and ten years of my life taking care of her. Whenever Mildred went into an episode, she'd hurl everything she could get her hands on at me. At the same time, she'd scratch every inch of my body with her nails. But when she sobered up, she'd hug me while wailing at the top of her lungs. All of my friends advised me to file for a divorce, yet I'd always remember the fact that Mildred had pushed me from the incoming car and hit her head, resulting in her current condition. But everything changed when Mildred beat me up to the point that I sustained grievous injuries. Heck, my soul was already floating near the ceiling at that time. That was when I saw Mildred arranging her childhood friend Hank Weaver's collar carefully. "Why are you crying? He's already dead. Shouldn't we celebrate this occasion instead? "But my heart breaks for you, Mildred. You've pretended to be a lunatic for ten whole years just to swindle every cent out of his account!" Mildred kissed Hank on the lips. Then, she uttered icily, "I've been enduring that cowardly fool for ten long years. Now, I no longer have to be with him." It turns out that Mildred and Hank had painstakingly staged the car accident just so they could put on such a perfect act. When I open my eyes again, I've returned to the day Mildred is diagnosed with mental health issues.

After I was rescued from a staged kidnapping, my wife, Vanessa, moved out of our bedroom on her own. No matter how I explained, she insisted I had been attacked because I had cheated. Even when I tried to touch her, she screamed and threw up on me. Friends and relatives looked at me with more and more pity. Everyone told me, "Vanessa's a good woman. Stop tormenting her." Even my son snapped, "You're so filthy. Why do you have to force Mom?" From then on, I was branded a cheater and a lunatic. I spent the rest of my life in misery and despair, and in my old age, I ended that wretched life by throwing myself into a lake. Only after I died did I learn that the kidnapping had been staged by Vanessa herself. She used my guilt to make me take care of our son and her father. Meanwhile, she kept herself "pure" for the man she'd never gotten over and lived a carefree life with him. When I opened my eyes again, I had returned to the day I was rescued.

On my 16th birthday, I treat myself to the most delicious cake I can find. On that day, before I can even take a bite, my parents, who are always at odds with each other, sign their divorce papers right in front of me. So, on my wedding day, I tell my wife, Keira Jarrett, "If you ever want a divorce, just get me a birthday cake." She hugs me tightly and promises me."Don't worry. 'Birthday' won't even be a word in our home anymore." Seven years later, on Keira's birthday, her assistant, Jackson Price, throws her a surprise party. She slaps him across his handsome, gentle face and kicks him out of Jarrett Group. That day, I am convinced I have chosen the right woman for life. But three months later, on my birthday, I find out the supposedly fired Jackson has been promoted to Keira's personal secretary. He personally delivers a custom-made birthday cake to me. I call Keira to demand an explanation, but her voice on the other end is cold and distant. "Jack meant well. Don't be a spoilsport." I freeze for a moment, then hang up. It turns out my parents are right all along. The only way a birthday cake tastes right is when it's served with divorce papers.

My wife's first love fell seriously ill. To save him, she gave away the kidney donor that was meant for me. Afraid I would cause a scene at the hospital, she locked me inside our home. Day after day, she stayed by his bedside, cooking for him, caring for him, never leaving his side. All she left for me was a box of stale biscuits… and expired milk. A month later, she finally opened the door. "Have you thought it through?" I looked at her, pale and desperate. "If I don't get that transplant, I'll die." "Why are you talking about dying?" she snapped. "You've endured this for so long already. A little more pain won't kill you. Are you trying to scare me?" "But Vincent is different. He's never been able to handle pain. Can't you be more understanding?" "Understand…" I nodded stiffly. Then, I walked out, without looking back. Only for her to be stabbed multiple times… yet still refuse to let go of my hand!