Melodramatic の短編小説 & Mistress Awakening 小説

After remarrying Odette Fairbanks, Ezra Whitlock turns into the perfect husband, one who no longer checks up on her or gets jealous. He no longer wakes up early to make her a balanced breakfast, and he no longer shows up at the hospital right on time with a home-cooked lunch for her. Even when he finds a box of ultra-thin condoms on her passenger seat, he quietly puts it away for her and pretends he hasn't seen it. Odette, however, begins to panic and starts volunteering the very explanations she's always been too proud to give.

It was the last stop on my pre-wedding trip with my fiance, Kieran Rose. I'd stopped at a scenic overlook to take a few pictures, but when I returned, Kieran's car was nowhere to be found. I called him right away, but he didn't answer. I wandered around the park three times, trying to find a way out, only to end up even more lost. As I began to panic, I realized that my best friend, Leah Lowe, had posted something on Instagram. "Best guy friend ever! Free ride, free trip, and a personal photographer. He's a 10 out of 10!" She'd uploaded a whole carousel of photos, every single one taken by Kieran. I zoomed in on the background of one of them and realized they were already in the next town over. Kieran and I had been together for seven years, and somehow, every date we'd ever gone on had ended with Leah tagging along. Apparently, even our honeymoon was no exception. Just then, a text from Kieran popped up. "I stopped to grab some water. Where did you wander off to take pictures this time? Hurry up and get back in the car." I stared at the message for a few seconds, then laughed. He still hadn't realized I'd been out of the car for five hours.

My fiancé dumped me the moment he found out about my rare blood type. "That condition of yours? Yeah, it'd just drain my wallet." I was spiraling when Vincent showed up—like some knight in shining armor, pulling me out of the wreckage. He didn't care about my blood type. We barely dated before he proposed, and for a while, married life felt perfect. Until a year later, when I overheard him talking to a doctor. "Vincent, you already took 400 milliliters of Sophia's blood last month, and now you want another 200? Are you insane? Even if you love Emma, you can't just drain an innocent woman dry for her!" "A little more won't kill her. Stop overreacting." My head spun. My whole body went cold. That's when it hit me—our perfect marriage had been a lie from the start.

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.

On the day I sold my house, my best friend asked me. “Aren’t you getting married soon? Why are you selling your new home?” I signed the transfer agreement and replied, “Because I’m breaking up with him.” We were supposed to buy a particular couch for our new home. Caleb Graham said he had not managed to snag it yet, so he asked me to wait a little longer. Then, I saw that very couch in Claire Silva’s Stories. She had specifically tagged Caleb. [It’s the one I’ve been waiting for so long! He still knows me so well!] In the comments section, Caleb simply replied, [Don’t mention it.] That was followed by a bunch of trivial chatter between the two of them. I stared at that Stories post for a long time. Then, I canceled the order for the matching pajamas. I scrolled back through my order history. I had ordered over a hundred packages. They were all for furnishing our new home. At first, Caleb would enthusiastically pick things out with me. Later on, he did not even bother to reply to my messages. It was because Claire, his first love, had gotten divorced. His attention toward me and our new home had shifted elsewhere. “If a buyer contacts us, I’ll let you know right away.” The real estate agent slid his business card across the table. I reached out to take it. Then, I cast one last glance at this place. ‘Caleb, I admit that I regret it,’ I thought. Seven years had passed, and I no longer wanted to build a home with him.

Nikolai Edevane and I had grown up together in a psychiatric hospital. We were childhood sweethearts who had known each other since we were young. Everyone in our circle said the Edevane family had raised a pair of vicious monsters, and no one dared cross us. "Anthea, monsters that crawl out of Hell are meant to stick together. Neither of us will ever be allowed to leave the other." On Nikolai's birthday, I helped him complete the final piece of his business empire. What I received in return was news that our twin sons had died in a car accident. The chauffeur had been drunk and fled the scene. On the eve of the trial, Nikolai set off fireworks across the entire city to celebrate his "recovery." Then, he took a pregnant woman by the hand and brought her before me. "Daphne is the only light in my life. She saved me. This ends here! Stop making a scene!" My eyes were bloodshot with grief and rage. "Nikolai, your sons died!" Nikolai said quietly, "Our sons may be dead, but you still have me. You still have your status as Mrs. Edevane. We'll have plenty more children in the future. However, Daphne only has her father left in this world."

I was once the Alpha's adopted daughter, but I took the fall for the man I loved and spent three years in the Pack prison. Then I had his pup before we were ever mated. This was the ninety-ninth time I'd asked for a mating ceremony. He swept his arm across the desk and sent everything crashing to the floor. "You really think you deserve to be mated to me? You've done time. You're nothing." "I've been too good to you. You've forgotten your place." But he was the one who'd promised. He said once I had the baby, we'd have the ceremony and be mates. He slammed the door on his way out. He didn't come home for three months. He cut me off completely. The power and water were shut off. My pup Lily had a fever that wouldn't break. I had no choice. I carried her to Pack headquarters to find him, and that's when I heard him talking to Serena. "Babe, when are you finally going to leave that trashy Ivy? We're the ones who actually went through the ceremony. We're the real mates." His voice went all soft and indulgent, and it made my skin crawl. "I want to cut ties with her too. It's her fault — she couldn't give me a son." "She's done time. How could she ever be worthy of me?" But he seemed to have forgotten — the reason I was locked up in the first place was because I took the fall for him.

The doctor adjusted his glasses before handing her a stack of forms. "Ms. Simon, are you sure you want to schedule the love-eradication procedure? Please verify your personal information and sign at the bottom." Selma Simon lowered her eyes to the form, where her details were listed in black and white. Applicant: Selma Simon. Age: 25. Procedure: Eradication of all romantic feelings for Valerio Gould. She stared at the words, her fingertips trembling slightly, before finally answering, "I'm sure." Picking up the pen, she slowly signed her name on the designated line, each stroke bringing her one step closer to ending a love that had consumed most of her life. "Your procedure is scheduled for seven days from now." The doctor put away the paperwork, then added a word of caution. "I must remind you that this technology was only recently introduced in this country and is still in its early stages. "Once your romantic feelings are erased, they can never be recovered. For the rest of your life, you'll automatically block out any romantic attachment to him. Are you certain you won't regret this?" Selma looked up and nodded. "I won't."

Seren Grant is extremely protective of her personal space. We've been dating for three years, yet I still don't have the access code to her apartment. Whenever I want to spend the night at her place, I have to let her know in advance. She always came downstairs to let me in herself. She says it's about maintaining boundaries, and I respect that. Until one day, I arrive early and am just about to call her when the elevator doors open. Her colleague, William Baker, swipes his key card to get through the security entrance. Then, he presses his fingerprint against the lock on her apartment door. The door opens. When he turns around to see me, he freezes for a moment. "What are you doing here? Seren said tonight isn't a good time." When I ask him how he has access to her fingerprint lock, he simply responds, "I registered my fingerprint last year. I come over often to feed her cat." She never even told me she had a cat. She said she was allergic to cat fur and couldn't have pets. Using that excuse, she turned down my suggestions that we get a cat together three separate times. Later, when I came across William's social media posts, I learned that she'd given him the cat as a birthday present. I deleted all the messages I had sent to Seren asking her for permission to visit. Seren Grant, your boundaries only ever apply to me. Meanwhile, he's had a place in your home all along.

"Ryder, are you seriously leaving Mona behind and moving abroad?" In the quiet café, Ryder Kane set down his spoon and look at his best friend, Harry Crain, who's staring at him in disbelief. "Mona and I are already divorced." "Divorced?" Harry looks stunned. Then his expression turns angry. "And she actually agreed to it? You've treated her so well these past three years! Even a rock would've warmed up to you by now. Does she seriously have no feelings for you at all?" Ryder give Harry a faint smile, though the truth is, he's not even sure Mona Brent realizes what she's agreed to. Two weeks ago, Ryder handed Mona the divorce papers. She signed them while taking a phone call, barely listening to him before rushing off. She hasn't mentioned them since. In another two weeks, the divorce will be finalized, and he'll finally be free. Just as he's about to answer Harry, a woman's gentle voice comes from behind them.

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!

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.

It was common knowledge that the Marsh family was the family with the strictest household rules in upper-class society. They adhered to the rules unyieldingly, and there were so many of them that the rulebook was thicker than ten legal codices. One of the rules was: If any woman wanted a divorce, she had to roll on a bed of nails for half an hour before she was allowed to leave. In the past, Violet Stane insisted on marrying River Marsh and never thought about getting a divorce. After all, she had spent ten years pursuing this aloof ice prince. Once she married him, she gave up on her flourishing career, stopped being so aggressive, obeyed the ridiculous number of house rules, and became the perfect wife for River. But she no longer wanted to do that.

Intimate photos of Sienna Taylor topped the city's trending searches again. Out of habit, I take screenshots of them and send her a link to a luxury apartment overlooking the river that I've been eyeing. "Buy two of these. One for me, and one for our kid." She replies almost immediately with a simple "Okay" and a screenshot of a massive bank transfer. She never hesitates to throw money at a problem. After ten years of marriage, I've finally stopped keeping tabs on my wife's affairs. These days, I only keep tabs on my bank balance. But this time, Sienna is serious about a young man named Gavin Reed. When I find out they've been caught kissing by the harbour, I ask for a million dollars. When she holds a press conference and calls him her best friend, I ask for another million. And when I hear that they're celebrating their move into a new home together, I ask for yet another million. Her affair with Gavin has become the talk of the city, and she's so caught up in it that she's forgotten all about the man she once had to woo with 100 love letters before he'd agree to marry her. I don't cry or make a scene. Every time she hurts me for his sake, I just burn one of those letters. When the 100th and final letter turns to ash, I'll leave her for good.

I back out of marrying Yvonne Mullen, my fiancee, just two days before the wedding, even though we have been together for seven years. The staff member at the venue is stunned. "Your wedding is coming. Don't you want to wait for the bride to return and talk things over first?" I smile and take one last look at the wedding venue I personally spent three months preparing. I then say calmly, "I'm done waiting. She doesn't have the time since she's getting married to her first love in Alveria at this moment."

Vivian Grant lost her memory and forgot everything about me. Her memory stopped in the year when she loved her ex-husband most. No matter how the people around her tried to explain it, she still believed I was the third party who had come between them. The doctors said her amnesia might be treatable, so I held on to that hope and refused to let go. For three years, we got divorced and remarried over and over again. We became the biggest joke in the city's elite circles. Some people even started betting on us. They bet on when I would finally give up, and when Vivian would finally remember. Then news of our eighth divorce hit the trending charts again. Reporters rushed into the law firm with cameras on their shoulders. They shoved microphones in my face, their questions full of provocation. "Mr. Sterling, as a divorce attorney, how does it feel to have been divorced eight times yourself?" The firm's sign was smashed. The commendation banners clients had given me were trampled underfoot. Before I could respond, my supervisor fired me for damaging the profession's reputation. "Julian Sterling, let me give you some advice. Have some self-respect. Stop clinging to Ms. Grant." I clenched my trembling hands and suddenly felt exhausted. They were right. This time, I really should give up.

Ashton King had been in love with me for twelve years before he finally won me over. Whenever his friends brought it up, they would say, “If you ever break up, we’ll stop believing in love.” “Where else are you going to find a man who saved himself for you for that many years?” I believed them. No one could love me more than Ashton did. Then, the night before our wedding, something changed. My best friend had just returned from abroad. We were waiting out the rain in the car when she pointed to a young intern outside. “Chloe, look. She’s wearing the same bracelet as Ashton and has the same phone case. Do you think she has a crush on him?” I glanced over, then shook my head with a laugh. “He wouldn’t encourage that. He spent twelve years pining after me.” “Exactly. He knows what it feels like,” she said. “What if he sees himself in her and starts falling for her too?” My hand went still. A moment later, Ashton hurried out of the office building. He walked up to the intern and handed her an umbrella. For the first time, I felt a flicker of doubt about the man I trusted so completely.

My best friend and my girlfriend's graduation trip vlog blew up online, racking up millions of likes. The comments were full of people swooning over their picture-perfect love story. Someone finally asked who the guy sitting quietly in the corner was. Suzanna Jones replied to the comment: [Just some random guy. I don't know him.] When I sent her a screenshot, she explained impatiently. "You stutter when you talk. Putting you on camera would only make you look ridiculous. "Elliot and I are only pretending to be a couple so he can make enough money to pay for his mom's medical treatment, so stop getting jealous over nothing." For the past year, I had practiced speaking to my phone every single day, all for the relationship-announcement video she had promised we would make. Now, I could finally speak without stuttering. However, she did not know that, because she had not been patient enough to listen to me in a long time. Just like now. Before I could say a word, she turned and walked away, hand in hand with Elliot Walker, stepping straight back into her camera frame. During their seven-day trip, Elliot filmed thirty-two videos. She appeared in every single one. She patiently listened to him ramble about anything and everything, never letting a single thing he said go unanswered. The last part of my heart that had been fighting to hold on finally went quiet. I lowered my head and deleted the relationship-announcement I had practiced hundreds of times. If I was nothing more than a background extra in her world, then so be it. She would not have a part in the of my life anymore.

On the day of our fifth anniversary, I got into a fight with my boyfriend, Tyrus Aberg. My best friend, Claire Dawson, sent me a screenshot. [Proxy Girlfriend: Thirty Days] Below it was Tyrus' reply. [Approved.] Every time we fought, Tyrus would deliberately have Claire act as his proxy girlfriend. He said I only dared to pick fights with him because I felt too secure in the relationship. He figured that as long as Claire got close to him and made me feel threatened, I would get jealous and tearfully beg him to reconcile. Three years ago, after one argument, he and Claire changed to matching couple profile pictures. "You've got one day to think it over. She'll be my proxy girlfriend for now. I'll only reconcile with you when you apologize." One day turned into three days. What started as switching profile pictures escalated into dates, hand-holding, and hugging. The last time I refused to cave for a whole week, he moved in with Claire. Claire spent the night wearing his shirt and showed up to parties with him as his girlfriend. He said, "You'll only feel jealous when Claire becomes my proxy girlfriend. "She's your best friend. No matter how close she and I get, it doesn't count as cheating." After this fight, he extended Claire's stint as his proxy girlfriend to a full month. A video call came in right after. "Lay-lay, it's your fifth anniversary today. "If you don't apologize soon, I'll be the one going home with Tyrus to meet his parents this Thanksgiving." On the other end, friends started laughing and counting down. They were all waiting for me to get jealous, cry, and beg Tyrus to reconcile, just like always. But I just left the three-person "Proxy Girlfriend" group chat. [A month is too short.] [Make it permanent this time.]