Cerita Pendek Melodramatic & Novel Mistress Awakening

In my last life, I died three days after Layla Vale became a "savior." Even as she injected concentrated wolfsbane into my IV, she practiced her funeral face in front of a photograph of Seraphina Blackwood. "Once she's dead, I'll be remembered as her savior. Adrian will fall for me sooner or later. Rowan, why did you have to call the police and ruin everything?" I tried to pull the needle out, but my wrist was pinned to the bed. The Vales reminded me that they had taken me in from an orphanage, paid my tuition, and given me a home. So writing Layla's fraudulent interview copy, covering up the wolf-luring resin, and finally dying in her place were all debts I owed her. When I opened my eyes again, I was back two hours before the charity night run began. Layla kicked her white boots over to my feet and ordered me to crouch down and tie the laces, then write the interview copy for her "heroic rescue." She had no idea that two hours later, she would deliberately release maddened wolves to play the hero on camera and leave Alpha Adrian Blackwood's wife critically injured. In my last life, I worked myself to the bone covering every crack in her plan, only for her to kill me to keep me quiet. This time, I warned her: "The east emergency door isn't locked. Something is going to happen tonight." Layla sent the order to the team chat, impatient. "We go as planned. Nobody changes anything." I saved a screenshot, started recording, and for the first time did not clean up after her. Later, her arrow wounded Seraphina. I pulled the child to safety, triggered the alarm, and staunched Seraphina's bleeding. When Adrian arrived, he gave Layla only one look. Yet she told me, her cheeks flushed, "Did you see that? He's fallen for me." I looked at the wolf-luring resin that hadn't been wiped clean off her glove, and I smiled. She had no idea Adrian wasn't looking at a woman he desired. He was watching the woman who had hurt his wife.

It all started because my daughter, Joy Harrell, threw a tantrum wanting to go to the amusement park. On the way there, we got into an accident that left my wealthy husband, Brian Harrell, paralyzed in both legs, unable to ever stand again. As punishment, he slashes our daily allowance to a mere ten cents, and Joy and I are forced to survive by scavenging through trash and even fighting wild dogs for food. One day, dizzy with hunger, Joy eats some cookie crumbs that the family doctor, Aurora Bradley, drops on the floor. She does so out of sheer hunger and desperation. However, Brian immediately berates her for "stealing" and forces her to kneel outside in the pouring rain for ten hours before being allowed back inside the villa. Furious, I go to confront him, but instead I see his crippled legs standing tall, holding hands with Aurora as they waltz to the music. Brian's friend looks out the window and feels sorry for us, saying, "Look, Brian, your daughter's tantrum might have caused you to miss your last chance to see your first love ever again, but don't you think that you've already punished her and your wife long enough for that? "You even hired a stand-in to pose as a doctor in the house. Surely your anger has cooled off by now, right?" Brian scoffs and replies coldly, "They were thoughtless enough to ruin the seven-year pact I had with Dorothy. This punishment is nothing—in fact, it's way too light for them. "Don't you ever bring this up again. Only two more years of their punishment remain. Once it's over, I'll make it up to them properly." However, Brian doesn't know that I've been saving all of the good food I can ever get for Joy, and thus, I've developed terminal stomach cancer. In other words, I will never live to see the future. But I will also never let Joy stay by his side to suffer any longer.

On the day of their wedding, Caleb Graham unexpectedly finds himself on a call with Danielle Sutton—six years into the future. His eyes gleam with undisguised longing as he asks, "Danielle, do you remember? Today is our wedding day." Suddenly, a child's voice rings out from the other end of the line. "Mommy." Caleb is instantly overwhelmed with joy. He can hardly believe how much their child has grown. Tears well up in his eyes, and his voice trembles with anticipation. "Danielle, we have a happy future together, don't we?" All he can think about is the beautiful life they enjoy together as a family of three. It seems that all his hard work is finally paying off. After all, he is the one who has discovered Danielle in the slums all those years ago, secured projects for her, and invested substantial resources in cultivating her into one of the most influential rising stars among Kingsford City's elite. Yet, in the very next second, a man's voice cuts sharply into his ears. "Ellie, who are you talking to?" Ellie? Caleb's smile vanishes in an instant. Despite spending so many years together, he has never once called Danielle by that nickname. The familiar voice, paired with that uniquely intimate nickname, points to only one person—Yale Lawson, Danielle's longtime best friend!

Rhys Lockhart, a brash and unruly trust-fund heir, comes back home from abroad and discovers he's already been married off without his consent. His bride is Elara Waverly, the head of Waverly Corp, and a full eight years older than him. Rhys naturally wants no part of it. So, when he hears she's the disciplined, immaculate type with a serious thing about cleanliness, he makes a point of it. He shows up in ripped streetwear and a backward baseball cap, a row of silver studs lining his ear. His parents turn red with embarrassment and move to apologize, but Elara simply leans forward with quiet composure, her slender fingers gently steadying them. Her voice is cool and clear. "This arrangement already asks too much of Mr. Lockhart. If anyone should be apologizing, it's me." Rhys freezes, and he slowly lifts his head. Beneath the cool detachment in her gaze, her amber eyes are filled with warmth.

After an accident and miscarriage, Hansel Saddler and I are so devastated that we're both diagnosed with depression. For the next five years, I try my best to act like I'm normal as I care for him and try to cheer him up. This lasts until I overhear him speaking to the psychologist at the clinic's door. "Work's been getting busy lately, and pretending to be depressed makes it inconvenient to deal with that. Can you change my diagnosis to manic disorder?" The psychologist giggles. "You have been quite manic lately, darling. You've been making me feel really sore down there." "I can make you feel even more sore now." Then, I hear moans and groans. It turns out everything I've done over the past five years is nothing but a joke. I pull up my conversation with Colin Foster. "I agree to undergo secluded treatment deep in the mountains abroad."

My girlfriend used to answer every call I made. Then her first love came back to town. Since then, she’d begun ignoring my calls. The first time, she rolled out a red carpet at the airport to welcome that man home. With cameras flashing around her, she glanced at my name on her phone and let it ring. The second time, she was throwing him a birthday party while I sat alone at the restaurant where we'd agreed to meet. I waited until the staff locked up for the night. And then came the hundredth call. Acute appendicitis had left me in so much pain I could barely stay conscious, but I managed to dial her number one last time. All I heard was the same automated message: "The number you dailed is busy now..." I later learned she'd been celebrating a major contract win with him at a restaurant overlooking the city. He even posted a picture of them together. "Thanks for making me your top priority," his caption read. Someone commented, "You two are practically a couple already. When are you making it official?" He replied with a blushing emoji. By the time she reached the hospital, my surgery was over. She smelled of another man's tobacco smoke. "Sorry. I couldn't get away from the business dinner," she told me. "You know he just moved back. He needs my help getting established. I promise it won't happen again." The anesthesia hadn't fully worn off, but somehow I managed a polite smile. "Okay," I said. Don't worry. There won't be a next time. Not for us.

Nathan Ritter is a stickler for process-driven management. For the past three years we've been married, everything I do must go through an official approval process, as if I were an employee at his company. If I want him to come home for dinner, I have to submit a request three days in advance. If I need money for living expenses, I have to submit a justification five days in advance. Only when I visit his office do I see his young secretary, Miranda Hooper, folding my application reports into paper airplanes. "Mr. Ritter, this is the 99th request from your wife asking you to spend time with her. Why haven't you approved it yet?" Nathan's expression is as cold and detached as his eyes. He says, "I'm too busy lately. Just set it aside for now." Miranda giggles, playfully pinching his pectoral muscles. She asks, "What about me, then? I want your company too. Do I have to go through the 'process' as well?" Nathan pinches her cheek with doting affection. "Really, when have you ever needed to go through a process? Don't you know that I've already offended a whole bunch of business partners just to keep you company? So, how are you going to make it up to me?" I stand frozen in place, biting my lower lip until it bleeds. So, this "approval process" is meant only for me after all. I look down at my swollen, pregnant belly, and realize that there's nothing that I can do other than to swallow this bitter pill of this wretched marriage. Then, in the middle of the night, my water breaks, soaking the sheets and the floor. I'm going into labor. In a panic, I call Nathan, begging him to take me to the hospital. However, I hear him flipping through his calendar, his tone as cold and bureaucratic as ever. "It's not your due date yet. I'm not approving any time off for this. Submit a formal request now, and when the day actually arrives, I'll set aside exactly 60 minutes to be with you." The pain in my belly feels like it's crushing me to pieces. Hot tears stream from the corners of my eyes as I struggle to hold the pain in. I'm thoroughly exhausted, and my heart has gone completely cold. This marriage, reduced to nothing more than a series of bureaucratic procedures, is finally coming to an end.

While I was with a client looking at watches at a luxury boutique, I spotted a Chanel bag sitting on the authentication counter. "You've got a great eye, sir. This bag retails for eleven thousand dollars, and the young lady who brought it in wants to let it go for under three thousand." As the sales associate opened the inner pocket, a hand-drawn dried-flower card slipped out. "May my girl never have another worry." I wasn't seeing things. It was the seventh-anniversary gift I'd given Veronica Hale, with a note in my own handwriting. The sales associate started chatting idly. "A young woman dropped it off the day before yesterday. It's already been authenticated. She said she needed cash fast to buy her younger boyfriend a car." Younger boyfriend? A car? The color drained from my face. I opened the video account of Dylan Kerr, the college intern at her company. In the video, he was holding a slender hand in the passenger seat, their fingers laced together. On the woman's wrist was a clover bracelet. The one I'd fastened there myself three years ago. Fighting back nausea, I swiped my card and bought the bag. "No need to pack the card. Just throw it out."

Three years after his release from prison, Cody Lawson finally learns how to coexist peacefully with Titus Sweeney, his sugar mommy's husband. When Titus is neglected, Cody encourages her to spend more time with him. When Titus gets worried that Cody might have a child with her, Cody makes sure to use strict contraceptive measures, going so far as to undergo a vasectomy for his sake. In their social circle, Cody is jokingly dubbed the "ideal kept man", the one who gives the legal spouse the least amount of trouble. Andrew Lloyd, a social-media-influencer friend of Titus', arranges a live-streamed interview with Cody. The camera is angled straight at Cody's face as Andrew asks with a hint of disdain, "So, Mr. Lawson, you dropped out of Strawford University at 20 and became the star performer at Nirvana Host Club. "Later, you latched onto Ms. Harvey, who was already engaged to Titus, and even stabbed Titus in a fit of jealousy, landing yourself a five-year prison sentence. "I'm curious, though. Can a gold-digger like you ever truly love someone?" Cody pauses, then offers a faint, wry smile as he replies, "I can. When I was 18, I had my first-ever girlfriend. Her name was Jennifer Harvey." She had been so good to him, and yet, later on, she faked her own death just to deceive him.

Neil Waller had a strange way of handling every fight between us. He called it a reconciliation mystery box. Whenever we argued, he would block me for three days. Then, as if nothing had happened, a link would suddenly appear on my phone. His message usually went something like this: "Open it. If you get 'Better Luck Next Time,' leave me alone. If you get a reconciliation coupon, maybe I'll forgive you." For years, I played along. The punishments changed every time. Sometimes, I had to put up with another week of being ignored. Sometimes, Neil made me apologize in front of other people. Once, I opened the mystery box while he was having dinner with another woman, only for him to casually tell me we could talk after he was finished. The sixth time I finally drew a reconciliation coupon, Neil wrapped his arms around me and gave me that relaxed, self-assured smile I knew so well. "See, Gabriella? No matter how unlucky you are, you still come back to me in the end." At the time, I told myself his indifference was only an act. I believed that somewhere beneath his arrogance and careless attitude, Neil still loved me. Then I discovered the mystery box he had made for the new intern, Shelley Vaughn. Hers had only one outcome: Neil's unconditional favor, and her chance of getting it was one hundred percent. One day, Shelley accidentally knocked over my coffee. Before I could even react, Neil immediately went to comfort her. The coffee had spilled across the back of my hand, leaving my skin red and stinging, yet Neil frowned. "You're not a little girl anymore. Do you really need someone to comfort you over every small thing?" That night, another mystery box appeared on my phone. It was the seventh one. Neil had left a message underneath it. 'Open it. If you get the Reconciliation Coupon, come back.' I stared at those words for a long time. This time, I did something different. I never opened the box. I blocked Neil instead. On the seventh round, I finally stopped waiting for him to choose me. For once, I chose myself.

Kelly and I had been in a long-distance relationship for three years. After working overtime for a month to make time so I could see her, she could not be reached. I waited alone in that unfamiliar place for ten whole hours before I finally got a reply from her. My best friend, Hayden, called me and said gleefully, "Zachary, surprise! I've already explored Stranton for you. It's amazing. Kelly is a great tour guide!" He excitedly shared his experiences, as if he had not noticed the 30 missed calls I left on Kelly's phone. I listened quietly until he mentioned feeling cold. Kelly took the phone and said bluntly, "I'll take him back to the hotel first. Give us a minute." After she finished speaking, I asked, "Do you know how long I've been waiting?" Kelly paused, her tone turning cold. "He's your friend. Are you really going to make a fuss out of this?" The blatant rebuke completely extinguished my desire to reply. After hanging up, my ride back to Jazzville arrived. The driver glanced at me and could not help but say, "Young man, it's the middle of the night. This area is quite dangerous. What urgent matter kept you waiting until now?" Looking at my shoes, which had been soaked by the snow, I softly replied, "It was urgent at the time." Then, I smiled and continued, "But not anymore."

Marty Greene, a newly hired assistant, publicly humiliates me by calling me a worthless nobody who hangs around Audrey Melton. As my girlfriend and an award-winning actress who loves me more than life itself, Audrey promises to stand up for me. She devises a seven-day plan to build Marty up before bringing him crashing down. On the first day, she replaces me with Marty as her personal assistant, claiming she wants him to understand how hard I work. On the third day, she gives him a luxury car and a mansion, supposedly to make him lose himself in vanity. On the fifth day, she bakes him a birthday cake on a live reality show. She insists it's a crucial part of her plan and begs me to be patient. Then on the seventh day, my mother, Deborah Faulkner, suddenly falls gravely ill. As she lies dying, her final wish is to see Audrey one last time. Audrey readily agrees. But I wait at the hospital all night, and she never shows up. Instead, all I see is a post from Marty on X. "Audrey is simply too kind for her own good. She almost falls for a scam after just one phone call. Luckily, I'm smart enough to see through it and stop her from falling for it." Mom dies without ever getting to see Audrey again. It's not until the following day that Audrey finally calls. "Babe, just hang in there a little longer. I'm going to expose Marty's vanity and ruin his reputation at today's awards ceremony. Then, we'll go public with our relationship and have the wedding of the century to make Mrs. Landry happy." Audrey has no idea that Mom is already dead, and that I'm done waiting for her.

I was easy to fool. I believed almost everything that people said. During the worst year of my life, a girl in the grade above me tricked me out of my entire living allowance. Juno Halloran split hers with me and helped me get by. She was the only person who had never lied to me. "It's not that you're dumb. Other people are just rotten," she told me. "Stop trusting them. Trust me instead." Then, 1 hour before I was supposed to walk into my grad school entrance exam, she texted me. [I was in a car accident. I'm at the hospital. Get here now.] I rushed to the hospital and found her and her best friend, Brent Ostrow, sitting in the convenience store downstairs, eating nachos. Brent laughed so hard he slapped his thigh. "See? I told you he'd fall for it. One text and he ditches his exam to come running." Juno held a chip to his mouth. "Fine, a bet is a bet. I'll take you to Starfall Park today." I stared at them in disbelief. Juno pulled out a napkin and wiped the sweat from my face. "You're about to graduate, and the world is a nasty place. Consider this lesson number one." My voice shook. "Today's my grad school exam!" Brent rolled his eyes. "Okay, okay, Cooper's about to cry. We'd better get him back before he flunks and blames us for it." When she saw my eyes reddening, Juno panicked too. She sped the entire way there and got me to the exam hall with only 1 minute to spare. I had barely breathed a sigh of relief when the proctor stopped me. "Excuse me, your admission ticket is fake. I need you to leave." I looked down at the paper in my hand. At some point, someone had switched out my admission ticket. In its place was a huge drawing of a pig's head with a message scrawled beside it. [Dumbass Cooper, I'm holding on to your ticket! Surprise!] Beneath that was another line. [Don't trip in the same spot twice. That's lesson number two.] It was Brent's handwriting. It was Juno's idea. I still could not tell truth from lies, but I could tell the difference between genuine care and fake concern. From that day forward, I never trusted anyone so easily again.

I'd spent six months saving every penny for prenatal care, but the money vanished overnight. Panicking, I called my fiancé, only to see him on another woman's social media. The man's busy silhouette radiated excitement, with a luxury handbag sitting at the edge of the photo. The caption read: "Mr. Wellington is such a gentleman! Today's happiness starts with snagging the last designer bag at the boutique~" When I came out of surgery, my furious fiancé finally showed up. His first words were an accusation. "Can you stop treating me like I'm on a leash?" "My friend was feeling down, so I bought her a bag and kept her company. What's wrong with that? Why are you so petty!"

Everyone in Brontville knew that Noah Wilder only lived for Ana Avery. In kindergarten, he once shielded her from being pierced by the sharp tip of a pencil. When they were teenagers, he would climb a tree to catch the cicadas whose constant buzzing disturbed her afternoon naps. After they grew up, she once casually mentioned how much she loved spring. He bought properties in a dozen cities around the world known for their springtime beauty, just so he could take her on a spontaneous spring getaway whenever she wanted. Other than the period when he suffered from amnesia, Noah had been devoted to Ana for nearly all his life. After their marriage, Ana was diagnosed with Amyotrophic Lateral Sclerosis, or ALS, a neurodegenerative condition. When everyone urged Noah to get a divorce, he remained devoted to her. Even when she had lost all sensation, he hoisted her on his back and took a pilgrimage up a mountain to an ancient church. Upon his arrival, he took her hand and helped her engrave a Bible verse onto a pendant. He hoped and prayed that she would survive despite the adversity. Alas, she was pronounced dead on a particularly chilly winter day. Noah sat motionless next to the bed with Ana’s body cradled in his arms. He pressed his forehead against her cheek and whispered something that was wholly unexpected, given everything he had done. "Ana, I’ve fulfilled my duty and repaid everything I owe you in this lifetime. If there’s a next life, I hope you’ll grant me the chance to be with her."

Over the weekend, my wife, Madeline Puth, invited her coworker, Kenneth Wilson, over for dinner. When the three of us reached the front door, Kenneth casually pressed his finger to the fingerprint lock. The door clicked open. I froze and stared at him. Madeline glanced at me and said as if it were the most natural thing in the world, "He's been here a few times before. He registered his fingerprint for convenience." Kenneth smiled at me. I returned his smile without a word. Then I walked inside, grabbed my bag, and headed straight for the door. Madeline hurried after me. "Where are you going?" I pulled the door open. "I'm clearly not the man of this house anymore, so of course I'm leaving."

No one in Harbor City knew that Mia Sterling, the heiress who had once had countless men falling at her feet, couldn't even get her own husband, Mark Hayes, interested in her after they got married. The most humiliating time was when Mark had taken medication and still showed no reaction whatsoever. Mia curled up on the bed, her tears soaking into the pillow. Mark simply got up and calmly dressed. "Sorry, Mia. I still can't get aroused with you." They had been married for five years. And in those five years, he had said some version of that sentence more than eighteen hundred times. At their last family dinner, both sets of parents had started pressuring them to have a baby. But Mark wouldn't even touch her. Mia began tormenting herself with doubts. Was she really that unattractive to him? After struggling with the thought all night, she finally went to the most exclusive private club in the capital, determined to learn a few tricks from its most sought-after stripper. She handed the hostess a card. "Teach me everything you know." The stripper arched a brow, genuine surprise flashing in her eyes. "This is the first time I've had a socialite come to me for lessons."

Olivia Hall was 18 when her parents died in a bloody gang war. Henry West, the city's most powerful crime boss, took her captive and forced her into a relationship. He kept her at his side, never letting her leave. Olivia fought him every step of the way, willing to risk her life rather than give in. But no matter how much she hated him or how hard she pushed him away, Henry lavished her with affection and made sure no one could hurt her. Over time, his relentless devotion wore down her defenses. Against her better judgment, Olivia fell in love with him. Everyone said she was Henry's greatest strength and the one weakness that could destroy him. The day Olivia agreed to marry him, Henry wiped out half the city's criminal world to make sure no one left could threaten her. Then he announced he was retiring. "Olivia, you're the only woman I'll ever love. There'll never be anyone else. I promise." Years later, Olivia discovered that Henry was secretly looking after another woman, someone he treated like she was too precious for the world to touch. "Olivia, I still love you more than anyone, but Grace is sweet and innocent. She reminds me of you when we first met, and I can't just walk away from her. Once this is over, I'll make it up to you. I swear." Olivia wasn't going to give him another chance. He had ruined what they had, and she had no interest in holding on to what was left. She burned every keepsake from their relationship and boarded a flight overseas, determined to leave Henry behind for good.

After my family went bankrupt, my wife, Claire Finley, was drowned in the river by debt collectors. To pay off our debts, I took on a job at an underground casino as a human punching bag. Every punch I took earned me 50 bucks. Then, one day, I'm about to deliver drinks to a private room. Through the crack in the door, I see Claire—supposedly dead—sitting in the seat of honor, leisurely sipping a glass of fine red wine. "It's been over three years since I last saw Nathan. I wonder how he's doing." Dad, dressed in a sharp suit despite our family's so-called bankruptcy, sighs. "He's probably been hiding away, grieving for a few years. Once he gets over it, he can always find someone else. Whatever happens, you and Victor will get to live in peace, so long as he believes you're dead." Victor Gray is Dad's son with his first love. A glance around the private room reveals nothing but familiar faces. My once-close friends are all there, along with the very people who have supposedly killed Claire. So, everything has been a setup from the start. The only thing that has been real is the hell I've endured over the past three years. Balancing 20 bottles of beer in my arms, I smile and shake my head. Once I save up 80 dollars for an urn, they can finally be free of me.

I'm an artist, but a car accident takes away my sight. My childhood sweetheart, Clara Vance, stays by my side when I'm at my lowest. She becomes the only light in my life, and we eventually get married. Two years later, I accidentally come across an audio recording on her computer. "Clara, thanks for saving me, but you told the doctor to take Brandon's corneas without his permission and used them to restore my sight. "What are you going to tell him when he wakes up? What if he calls the police? What are we going to do?" "He'll never find out the truth. He can't see anymore, so I'll marry him and keep him under my control. Desmond, I'd do anything for you." It feels as though someone has just dumped a bucket of ice water over me, sending a chill through me. The woman I thought had saved me has been lying to me from the very beginning. After sending a copy of the audio recording to my phone, I call a lawyer to draw up the divorce papers. Then I head to the hospital alone for a follow-up eye exam. If that's what really happened, then it's time for me to end things with Clara.