Mistress Awakening Short Stories & Novels

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.

Because of her first love's piano competition, my fiancee, Ashley Blake, postpones our wedding for the 17th time seven years into our relationship. On the eve of the competition, she chops off my ring finger just because Marc Tyson claims I injured his hand and ruined his ability to compete. The pain of losing my finger leaves me crying in agony, but she simply holds him in her arms and stares me down with indifferent eyes. She says, "Stop pretending, Troy Clinton. You're a grown man. What's all this fuss over losing a finger? Besides, you merely lost one finger. Marc has lost the dream he spent his whole life chasing! This is what you owe him." Her cruel words shatter my heart into tiny pieces. She has forgotten that my fingers are also meant to dance across piano keys. "The wedding next week is postponed," she says dismissively while covering Marc's reddened fingers. She adds, "This has nothing to do with Marc. It's simply because you can't wear a wedding ring with a missing finger anyway." Clutching my bleeding hand, I finally wake up to reality. From this moment onwards, we owe each other nothing.

After my mission failed, I linked myself to the Perfect Partner Program and became Gloria's perfect husband. When rumors about her and Damian blew up, I stepped in and shut them down. When Damian framed me and Gloria said nothing, I rushed to take the blame and apologize. Even after she got pregnant with Damian's child, I didn't fight. Didn't make a scene. I just signed the divorce papers and handed Damian the title of "husband." But she wasn't happy. She shoved me onto the bed, anger burning in her eyes. "Mason, I told you to behave. I didn't tell you to push me away. Are you blaming me now?" I went still, staring up at the woman above me. "Isn't this what you wanted?"

I had always thought I was the happiest woman in the world. After all, my fiance was rich, handsome, and thoughtful. To everyone else, he was practically perfect. However, I found three divorce decrees and death certificates of his three ex-wives in his drawer the day before our wedding. Before I could even process the shock, a wall of floating comments appeared before my eyes. 'So, she's the next victim, huh?' 'The last three thought they could change Ivan and insist on marrying him, although they found his secret, and look where it got them. This one is even dumber, completely blinded by love. I bet she thinks he can still be redeemed. Little does she know, he doesn't love her at all.' 'We need more villainous male leads! I wonder how this woman would die this time. I can't wait to see it!' 'Great news, friends! The female lead, Cynthia, will appear soon! She's the only one who can free Ivan from his dark thoughts!' The next moment, a colleague dropped to her knees and grabbed my thigh. Tears spilled from her eyes in an instant as she accused me, "Please, give my man back to me! Being a homewrecker won't end well for you. He and I are soulmates. He needs me to pull him out of the abyss. Only I can give him what he truly wants!" My other colleagues circled me and echoed her accusations. I simply nodded. Then I tore the wedding invitations in half. 'Go ahead. He's all yours now,' I thought.

On our third wedding anniversary, Kent gave me a gift. A black metal wristband. Cold. Sleek. He called it a new product from his company—a pain-sharing system. The other user was Violet. His "girl bro." The person he was closer to than his own sister. Kent brushed a hand over my cheek, his gaze soft. "Clara, you're too coddled. You should learn from Violet. She's tough." Then he snapped the wristband onto my wrist. So while Violet got a full-back tattoo and an entire sleeve, I felt every single needle. When Violet went wingsuit flying, I collapsed at home. Every bone in my body felt shattered. I threw up blood. While she soaked up attention online as the "extreme sports queen," I was drowning in nonstop pain. Kent sat beside me, holding my hand as he cared. "Just hang in there. Violet's just being herself. As my wife, you should be more understanding." To finally push me over the edge, Violet decided to livestream herself jumping into the ocean to make me die in her place. Their friends couldn't wait to watch. Later, I watched calmly from a hospital room as the system slowly drained the life out of her. Kent looked deranged as he demanded to know why I wasn't dead. Because I had already reversed the system. All her vitality had become the nourishment that sustained me.

I found out I was the villainess of a romance novel called Sunshine Donna when I was already pregnant. For twenty-two years, I'd chased Renato Gatti without a shred of shame. Then came three years of marriage, just the two of us, wrapped up in each other. I'd thought it was everything. Then his true love showed up. According to the story, I was supposed to fall apart. I'd torment the girl, sabotage their relationship, and in the process, destroy myself. A bullet through the forehead. That was how it ended for Gianna Milano. I looked up. Renato was across the room, phone in hand, the ghost of a smile on his lips. He'd met her. Fine. This time, I'd step aside. But when I asked for a divorce— He cried. He begged me to stay. He threw the entire East Coast at the problem, just to keep me from walking out the door.

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.

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."

It was near the end of May when I got off my night shift and got a call from my younger self, right before the SAT. "Eight years from now, am I happy? Am I living abroad, or working at Collins Corporation? "Charlotte said I don't need the SAT. She's taking me overseas." He sounded excited, already planning to spend the next few days doing whatever he wanted. I looked down at the grease on my uniform. Behind me was a cramped factory dorm, a cramped room packed with 12 beds. "Charlotte's getting married today," I said. "But you're not the groom." He sucked in a breath. "That's impossible. She said she'd marry me." Last night, Charlotte Collins texted me. [Don't come tomorrow. You work at a factory. You'll embarrass me.] His voice caught. "Who is it? Do I know him?" I said calmly, "Open the math worksheet in your bag. Finish it, and I'll tell you who she's marrying."

The battery on my front door smart lock died, so I called a locksmith to come over. While he was working on the lock, he made small talk. "Dude, this lock comes with six spare keys. Did you lock all of them inside the apartment?" I froze. I've lived in this apartment for three years. My wife and I each have one spare key. The other three were always kept in the hallway drawer. That makes five total. So where's the sixth key?

To cash in on a massive life insurance policy, my wife Vanessa Rowe pushed me into the Demon Pit. She had been seeing someone behind my back for a long time, and killing me had been her way to buy her lover a gold sports car. I stood at the edge of the abyss and looked at her one last time. “You are sure about this? Killing me for him. No regrets?” Vanessa laughed and held on to Troy Merritt’s arm. “Regrets? Why would I have regrets? Troy is one of the Demon King’s most trusted men. He only has to put in a word for me, and I get to stay young forever. “You are only a mortal. You age, you get sick, you die. What made you think you ever deserved me?” She shoved me over the edge without a second thought. She did not know that I had been the Demon King. The Demon Pit had been my domain. As for this so‑called trusted man of mine, I had never heard of him.

When I was one month pregnant, my fated mate Caleb’s childhood best friend turned out to be three months along. Caleb decided to hold a bonding ceremony with her. When I broke down and asked what would happen to me and our pup, he said calmly, "Stella is different from you. I’m the only friend she has left in the pack. If people find out she’s pregnant out of wedlock, the gossip will destroy her!" But he seemed to forget that he was my only support in the pack, too. Later, he allowed our baby to be called a bastard pup. He let his parents drag me into a healing room to force an abortion on me. My inner wolf went completely dead. I didn't want this man anymore. What Caleb didn't know was that I wasn't the worthless orphan he thought I was. I was the Alpha King's little sister. Clutching my stomach, I calmly dialed my brother's number. "Brother, come take me home." This time, I would grant Caleb's wish. I would take our pup and vanish from his sight forever.

For eight years I was Ethan Black's right hand, his ride-or-die. Then I finally married him and became Mrs. Black. Three months into the marriage, I deliberately shredded one of his contemporary art pieces, a million dollars gone in a few clean strokes, all because his eyes had lingered a second too long on the new intern. Before Ethan could lose his temper, lines of text bloomed in the air in front of me, telling me I was nothing but the villainess in someone else's novel. [This woman's completely lost it. Does she really think Ethan married her out of love?] [He keeps his old buddy around as a human shield to protect his real love. Once she's served her purpose, he ships her off to a psych ward.] [Watch, the male lead's about to slap her.] I stared hard at the man coming through the door. But when Ethan reached me, he didn't even glance at the ruined canvas. He grabbed my hand instead, his voice almost pleading. "Babe, does it hurt? Did it feel good, ripping it up? If that wasn't enough, there's another hundred of them in the storage room."

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."

My wealthy wife, Celia Quayle, controlled the household. I bought a three-dollar bottle of water, and she scolded me for wasting money. But she bought her bodyguard, Mason Johnston, a house, saying she got a deal on it and that he deserved better. I confronted her about it. She said buying the bodyguard a house was to keep him motivated, and that she was saving money for our wedding. However, while I was working a part-time job with my younger brother, Cyrus, we saw her booking the Century Hotel for a wedding ceremony with Mason. She even broadcast the entire event live. Cyrus was furious and went to confront her, but Mason’s men rammed him with a car. It was a BMW. The accident left Cyrus with massive medical bills. I called Celia and begged her to return my bank card so I could pay for his treatment. She replied coldly, “I can’t believe you’d use your own brother as an excuse to cause a scene. Look, I’ll explain everything after the wedding.” I desperately rushed to the venue. But before I could enter the hotel, I learned that Cyrus had passed away. When Celia saw me arrive, she hurriedly pulled me aside and explained, “This wedding is just a business arrangement. Don’t overthink it. Once everything settles down, I promise I’ll give you a proper wedding.” Little did she know that the moment I received news of Cyrus’ death, I no longer wanted her as my wife.

In my past life, Noah Luther, my brother, runs away from his engagement. The bride, Julia Zimmerman, shows no resentment and simply switches the arrangement to me right on the spot. She is courteous and thoughtful toward me after the wedding, but that all changes when Noah crosses someone abroad and has his limbs crushed. She actually spends the whole night in the study after learning of that incident. I assume Julia is worried about my safety when she sends over a dozen bodyguards to me the following day, a gesture that touches me deeply. I suddenly lose consciousness out of nowhere the next day. Then, I get abducted to an abandoned factory and have my hands and legs crushed bit by bit. It's so painful that I try to bite my tongue to commit suicide from the agonizing pain. Julia walks in slowly, looks at my condition, and says wistfully, "So that's how much pain he went through back then." When Noah trips and falls during rehabilitation and loses a tooth, Julia violently pulls out my tooth with pliers that very same night. She looks at my bloody mouth and says calmly that she's only doing this for my sake since I eat too much. Soon after, I "happen" to fall down the stairs when Noah sprains his back, forcing me to stay in bed for three months. Julia even breaks a cup and drives the shards into my hand when Noah accidentally slices his finger while chopping vegetables. Noah later dies in a car accident abroad. Julia drags me to a bridge over the river and jumps off with me, saying, "You're just a stand-in for him. He's dead now, so you shouldn't live either." I open my eyes and find myself back on the day Julia arrives to talk about the wedding arrangement. Noah has already fled through the back door, so she looks at me coldly and says, "I'll marry you, then." I merely smile and say, "I'm already in love with someone else, so please find another person for this marriage, Ms. Zimmerman."

On New Year's Eve, I hurry home from abroad to surprise my wife, Moira Wesley, from whom I've kept my return a secret. But when I push open the front door of our home, I'm greeted by the sound of laughter and friendly chatter. Overcome with emotions, I enter the house to see Moira with a baby in her arms as she announces sweetly, "Today, we celebrate New Year's Eve and Beatrice's one-month birthday! Happy New Year, everyone!" Upon hearing my entrance, Moira glances over her shoulder, then turns and walks toward me. She grabs the mug of hot tea on the table and splashes it at me. "Who are you? How dare you trespass into a private residence on New Year's Eve?" I try to ignore the burning pain on the left side of my face as I grab Moira's arm, hoping she'll explain herself. However, she shrugs off my grip and gives me another hard slap. "Noah, call the police! Tell them a suspicious person broke into our home and is attempting to rob us!" After that, Moira winks at me, then turns with the baby in her arms and joins an older couple. "Francine, Eric, don't worry about that. It was someone irrelevant." I stand in place, watching as the large family has fun in the house that now seems so unfamiliar, and feel a sudden wave of emptiness wash over me.

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.

Caine Black and I were in love for seven years. From our first meeting at the Imperial Academy to being officially recognized by both packs as promised mates, I thought we would be together forever. That certainty lasted until the day before our marking ceremony, when I canceled it. The priest stared at me in shock. "Eileen, the marking ceremony is in twelve hours. Are you sure you don't want to wait for Caine to come back?" I gently unclasped the pendant from my neck, the one that symbolized the Luna's status, and shook my head. "No. "He's under the northern lights on the Ice Plains right now, completing a marking ceremony with his first love."

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.