Mistress Awakening Short Stories & Novels

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."

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.

Renee Fuller, my wife, suddenly stops talking about divorce after her 18th failed attempt. She has failed every attempt before this, after all. I catch them at a hotel and cover the company lobby with photos of her in bed with Edward Chester, her male assistant. I beat Edward up so badly at the press conference that he suffers a concussion and develops PTSD. Renee has every reason to hate me, but even so, she drops the subject of divorce completely. She is home every day right on schedule and hands over her phone. She updates me on her whereabouts every hour and even keeps a 24-hour video call running when she travels for work. I still can't put my mind at ease, though. I keep pestering her day after day, demanding to know why she no longer wants to divorce me. Renee asks me, "Haven't I done enough?" It is enough—almost too good to be true. Renee finally tells me the truth after catching me following her again, her eyes filled with exhaustion. "I received a call from myself ten years in the future, and she says I'd regret getting a divorce." I am stunned. "You actually believed that?" Renee says, "She said you burned Edward alive."

My girlfriend, Esther Cahill, and my best friend, Lionel Fox, are both ESTPs. They send each other thousands of messages every day, but the second I say something, they both go completely silent. "Gabriel, it's not that we don't want to reply. You just wouldn't get what we're talking about." I have always assumed that I'm just too quiet and that I don't really fit in with them. One day, I get hit by a car outside the school and end up bleeding badly. The driver speeds away, and I call Esther ten times, but she doesn't answer. I enter the three-person group chat, only to find that she's having the time of her life chatting with Lionel. The messages keep coming in so fast that I can barely keep up.

Everyone knows I'm Sinead Powell's most loyal dog. I take bullets for her during the day and share her bed at night. In the past ten years, I've never once crossed the line. But on the day Sinead secures the western coast partnership deal, I kneel in the Powell family chapel and formally ask to leave. Sinead's grandfather, Gregory Powell, stares at me with an intimidating gaze. "Are you sure you want to leave the Powell family?" I prostrate myself and press my forehead to the ground. "Please grant my request, Mr. Powell." I came from a reclusive family that specializes in combat arts. When my father was falsely accused and sent to prison, Gregory's wife, May Powell, has stepped in and saved his life. To repay her kindness, Dad assigned me to protect her only granddaughter, Sinead. Three years ago, Wesley White appeared with the emerald pendant left behind by the late May and became Sinead's fiancé. He subjected me, her loyal bodyguard who she barely even acknowledges as her lover, to relentless torment. Over the past three years, I've had a broken leg and lost my eyesight. The worst torture I've suffered is when Wesley lost a bet and handed me over like a plaything to a sadistic South Arlian businesswoman. I was brutally carved up 99 times, and my body was still covered in scars to this day.

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.

My husband's childhood sweetheart was always trying to take what was mine. After being reborn, I realized that no matter how hard I fought, I'd never beat her. Hence, I decided to put a price tag on every single thing she intended to take from me. She claimed she got carsick and insisted on sitting in the front passenger seat beside my husband whenever we went out. I simply stuck a payment QR code on the dashboard. "20,000 dollars a year. Renew at a 20% discount," I said flatly. She took a liking to my project proposal. My husband had barely knocked on my office door when I spoke without even looking up. "100,000 dollars. Once the money hits my account, I'll put her name on it." On my son's birthday, I set aside my work and rushed to his preschool to pick him up. Unexpectedly, he looked up at his teacher and said, "She's not my mom. I'm not going with her." Just as we reached a stalemate, that woman arrived late with the gift I'd prepared for my son. My son immediately ran over and wrapped his arms around her leg. "Look. She's my real mom!" My husband was about to explain when I held out my hand to my son, my expression completely blank. "One million dollars. I'll sign over my parental rights to her today."

The day before our wedding, my husband gives me a sapphire ring. I place a hand on my slightly bulging belly. As I lie on the operating table, I call him and tell him I want to call the wedding off. Shortly after, his secretary calls me tearfully. "I was the one who was impudent enough to select the ring, ma'am. Please don't blame Mr. Nolan for this. It's all my fault." Archer Nolan holds her in his arms and coaxes her gently for a long time. He only says one thing to me. "You're already carrying my child. Can you really bear to leave me?"

Dorian Keller hated hassle more than anything—so much that he kept a "standard schedule." Every gift was bought in bulk and shipped to arrive on the birthday itself. We always went to the same date spot. Trying a new restaurant took a written request a month in advance. Even intimacy had an alarm set for it. "Life's about keeping things simple. Let's not make trouble for each other." For seven years, I thought he was like that with everyone. Then, at a get-together with friends, the server brought out a plate of pomegranate. He took it and peeled it seed by seed into a glass bowl, picking away every bit of white pith. I was sitting right next to him. I reached for it. He paused and looked at me. Then he set the bowl in front of Arabella Crane. The girl who used to bully me. In high school, she tore up my homework, poured glue on my chair, and locked me in a bathroom through an entire class. Back then, Dorian pointed in her face and told her she'd die a miserable death. Now he sat beside me, slid the only bowl of pomegranate over to her, and said softly, "Slow down." I pulled my hand back. In that moment, I didn't want to stay there a second longer. And I didn't want him anymore either.

My wife, Carla Clayton, suddenly develops a serious illness, so I rush to the hospital to donate a kidney to her. But the anesthesia wears off, and I hear Carla tell the nurse, Betty Farrell, to throw the kidney they've removed from me into the trash can after surgery. Unable to bear watching this, Betty says, "Carla, I know your husband, Trevor Draper, refused to throw the match and surrender the championship title back then. "And that drove your first love, Ivan Huston, to jump off a building, leaving him partially paralyzed. But surely you wouldn't go so far as to betray Trevor's love for you just to get back at him, would you?" Carla lets out a sigh. "Trevor was the one who wronged Ivan first, and I promised Ivan I would get justice for him 99 times." "But aren't you afraid Trevor will divorce you if you keep doing this?" "As long as none of you tells him, he won't find out. There are only three times left anyway. Once I've repaid this debt, I'll spend the rest of my life treating Trevor well to make it up to him." My heart turns ice-cold. Since Carla loves Ivan so much, I'll walk away and let them have each other.

I have intermittent aphasia. Whenever I get too emotional, I lose the ability to speak. Everyone mocks me for being mute, but my best friend and stepbrother, Julian Cadwell, and my childhood sweetheart, Vivian Wilder, are the only ones who stand up for me. When I confess my feelings to Vivian, Julian reads the love letter aloud on my behalf. On the day I propose, it is Julian who asks her for me. I thought they understood me best. When we start planning the wedding, I want a traditional ceremony, but Julian changes that plan because, in his words, "Modern ceremonies are more romantic." I want our new home to be in the heart of the city. But before I can say anything, Julian says, "Anton doesn't like the hustle and bustle. The suburbs are just right." Just like that, Vivian immediately decides on a new house in the suburbs. On the day of the wedding, I change into my suit and walk out, only to find the house completely empty. I ask about the situation in our family's group chat. Then, I get a video call almost instantly. Everyone is already at the wedding venue. Vivian tells me, "Anton, you don't need to come to the wedding. Julian will go through the motions in your place." My mother says, "Anton, a wedding is a big occasion. What if you can't speak when the time comes? Our family can't afford the embarrassment!" Julian says with a smile, "Anton, the wedding is just a formality. It doesn't matter who the groom is. I'm also Mom's son." For the first time in years, I speak in front of everyone. "You two can get married. I'm done."

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."

Marissa Caldwell marries me to save the man she truly loves, Damian Davenhurst. For five years, she never once treats me like her husband. To her friends, I'm nothing more than a fool who comes running whenever she calls and disappears whenever she tells me to leave. "Cyrus Halden, you're basically her lapdog. She calls, you come running. She tells you to leave, and you leave." Whenever they laugh at me like that, Marissa simply smiles and says nothing. Once, when I'm burning up with a fever that won't break, she leaves the country with Damian just to escape her mother's constant nagging. Another time, I drink until I'm vomiting blood from a stomach ulcer during a business dinner while Marissa is upstairs in a presidential suite with him. I endure it all, convincing myself that if I love her enough, one day she'll finally see me as her husband. Then Damian and I are kidnapped on the same day. When she's forced to choose between us, she doesn't hesitate. She abandons me. That is when I finally wake up from my delusion. After five years of loving a woman who has never loved me back, I decide I'm done. I will leave her for good. But the moment she realizes I'm serious, Marissa regrets everything. She grabs my hand, her voice breaking as she begs, "Cyrus, please don't leave me. I'll go crazy without you." I slowly pull my hand from hers. "I can't do this anymore."

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.

After I announced that my boyfriend, James Lane, and I were getting married, his childhood sweetheart came after me again. She dumped an entire bucket of chicken blood over my head, turning my pristine white wedding dress a hideous dark red. Lily Zane stood there watching me without the slightest hint of fear. She knew she could get away with it. Instead of backing down, I looked at James, who had been silent the entire time. "Are you calling the police, or am I?" This was already the ninth time this year. She'd rammed my car, slapped me, and harassed me online. Any time I dared post anything about James, there was always some new form of torment waiting for me. James had begged me to let it go, so I'd swallowed it again and again. Not this time. I dialed 911 without hesitation. James, who hadn't lifted a finger until then, suddenly snatched the phone from my hand and smashed it against the floor. Pieces went flying, and his face was dark with anger. "Are you seriously making this a big deal? It's just a bucket of chicken blood!" Calmly, I wiped the blood from my face and nodded. "Yes, I am, James. And the wedding's off."

After dinner, I did what I usually did and went to the front desk to pay. The poor signal held me up for a while, and by the time I finally sorted everything out, my girlfriend and my best friend were nowhere to be seen. I called them more than a dozen times before they finally picked up. "You took too long, so we left without you. We're at the LEGO-building studio on the first floor. Come over." It was during holiday, so the mall was even more crowded than usual. I waited through two rounds of the elevator, but both were packed, so I had no choice but to take the escalator. By the time I reached the studio, there was not a single seat left. Nicole and my best friend were sitting side by side, talking about going to Northbridge University together. They were already mapping out the next ten years of their lives together, from graduate school to their PhDs—a grand plan for the future I had never been able to insert myself into. They had both already been admitted through the early scholars program back in May. I, on the other hand, had failed to do well on my college entrance exam and was still considering retaking it so I could catch up with them. When Nicole saw me standing awkwardly at the entrance, she said with exasperation, "You're always so slow. Just wait outside for now." I stared at the two of them from behind. For some reason, I suddenly felt unbearably tired. I had spent far too long trying to keep up with Nicole. This time, I was done chasing her.

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!"

I could see everyone’s loyalty score floating above their heads. Once it dropped below 60%, they would eventually leave. The day my father cheated, his loyalty score fell from 69% to 23%. The day my sister ran away from home, hers dropped to 7%. So later, whenever I dated someone, I always knew when to walk away. I never stayed long enough to be abandoned. Until I met Ethan Hayes. His loyalty score had always been 100%. I thought I had finally found true love. But on our daughter’s third birthday, he broke his promise and didn’t show up. That night, when he finally came home, the number above his head had fallen from 100% to 87%. I stared at it for a long moment. Then I thought, It was time to start planning my exit again.

Whenever the three of us—me, Darius Shaffer, and Sonya Berger—are together, everything I say always gets ignored outright. At first, I just assumed that they simply hadn't heard me. After all, I've been in a relationship with Darius for seven years, and Sonya has been my childhood best friend for 18 years. But today, I speak up as I usually do and ask, "How about we go to Mistland for a trip during the holidays?" They keep their heads down and continue scrolling through their phones. Neither of them acknowledges me. Moments later, Sonya holds up her phone and grins. "Look at this Mistland grill! It's their signature dish. It looks so delicious!" Darius looks up immediately and jumps into the conversation. They begin chatting animatedly. I try to interject and ask again, "So, shall we all go to Mistland together?" Still, nobody pays me any mind. I end up just listening to their conversation in silence. Yesterday, I sighed and said, "I'm thinking of quitting my job. I'm so exhausted and burned out." However, neither of them even looked up at me or acknowledged what I said. They just continued tapping away on their phones. And the day before that, Sonya pouted and said, "My skin looks terrible. I'm so damn upset." But Darius immediately leaned in toward her, saying, "Nonsense! You look beautiful!" Then, they launched into an enthusiastic discussion about skincare. I tried asking them if they wanted to grab a meal together the next day, but again, I was met with complete indifference. Yet, when I walked into the restaurant alone the next day, I saw them having lunch together just a few tables away. Last week, Darius sent a movie trailer into our group chat, and Sonya immediately replied, "I wanna watch this movie!" I also replied, "Me too. Let's go!" As always, nobody replied. When I asked Darius about it later, he told me that they had already watched it together. So, as it turned out, they had heard me. They simply didn't want to pay me any heed. This time, I don't act out or throw a tantrum. I don't even question any of them on the spot. Instead, I shift my gaze away and keep myself company. On the day I resign from my company, Darius finally pays me some attention, something he rarely ever does. He says, "Rennie, my mom has been asking us to set a wedding date. Sonya was asking me about it earlier too. Why didn't you say anything?" I stand up and reply with only four lines. "You guys continue chatting. Just ignore me. Also, we're breaking up. Good riddance."