Mistress Awakening の短編小説 & 小説

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.

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.

By the time I'm done interviewing the final guest, the blister on my ankle has been rubbed raw, turning the spot into a bloody mess. Sadie Jensen, whom I've been secretly dating, appears with a plaster. However, she brushes right past me and walks up to Connor Lewis, my best friend. "You've been standing in those dress shoes for over ten hours now! Are you trying to destroy your feet on purpose? Don't come complaining to me about the pain later!" Laughter ripples through the crowd. "Ms. Jensen is so stubborn. If she's worried about him, she should just say it! Why's she hiding her concern behind her sharp tongue?" "When it gets cold, she brings him a jacket. When his blood sugar level drops, she brings him chocolate. The second he says he's tired, she immediately cancels everyone's overtime!" "I'll bet a month's worth of breakfast that she's hopelessly in love with Connor. I'm positive the two of them are secretly involved with each other." The entire department erupts in teasing hoots and whistles. Blushing, Connor waves them down. "Oh, you guys… Stop being so ridiculous!" He hands me the plaster. "My feet are fine. You can have this." I withdraw my outstretched hand and force out a weak smile. "It's fine. I don't need it." To avoid raising any suspicion about our relationship, Sadie shoves me aside. She pushes Connor down onto a chair before crouching down in front of him. Then she takes off his shoes and socks and, in one swift motion, puts the plaster on for him. By now, our colleagues are practically hollering with glee. As their cheery voices echoed all around me, I'm hit with a realization. All that talk about not wanting to arouse any suspicion? That's just a lie. The truth is, Sadie's heart belongs to someone else now.

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.

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!"

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."

On Valentine's Day, Callista Vance and I were supposed to meet up. However, she never showed up. I waited all day until nightfall and tried calling her, but she never answered. Then, her childhood friend uploaded a new post. In the photo, Callista leaned against his shoulder, looking coy, while the matching rings on their ring fingers gleamed conspicuously. His caption read, "I finally gave Callista the ring I'd promised her as a child. A childhood dream fulfilled." I didn't call to confront her. I simply liked the post and commented, "Hope you two last forever." But as I was leaving, Callista clung to me, her eyes red. "You're the only person I'd marry."

When Harry Carson is reborn, he finds himself back at 27 years old, married to the richest woman in the world, Laura Jensen, with a son and a daughter. Laura holds the top spot on the Global Wealth Index year after year. The Pinnacle Magazine names her the world's most desirable woman to marry, and even the royal family of Eldoria hopes to arrange a marriage between her and their prince. Everyone says Harry is the luckiest man alive, but the first thing he does is take the divorce agreement straight to Thomas Bright, the man Laura has always loved. He slides the papers across the table and says calmly, "I want a divorce. Laura's yours, and so are the kids." Thomas stares at him in disbelief. He can't believe that Harry, who has been Laura's husband for six years, is suddenly willing to step aside. Harry simply adds, "Since they all prefer you anyway, I'm giving you what you want. Just get Laura to sign the papers. Once the divorce procedures are over, I'll walk away." This time, Harry refuses to repeat the mistakes of his previous life. He's done being "Laura's husband", whom everyone treats as though he doesn't exist. Thomas unconsciously runs his fingers along the rim of his cup, his brows furrowing. "Harry, what the hell are you playing at?" Harry watches the expressions flicker across Thomas' face before calmly repeating himself, "I'm not playing games. I've just had enough." "Harry, do you have any idea how many men out there would kill to be in your position?" "I do." Harry looks him straight in the eye. "That's why I'm giving it to you."

At the last stop on our trip, my fiancee, Giselle Huberman, drives off while I'm busy taking pictures. I immediately call her, but she doesn't answer. I wander around the attraction, trying to find my way out, but I can't. Just as I start to panic, my best friend, Steven Rudd, posts an update on social media. "Big thanks to my best bro for the free ride, free vacation, and amazing photos!" The post features photos of Steven from the trip, all taken by Giselle. When I zoom in on the landmarks in the background, I realize they're already in the neighboring city. Giselle and I have been together for seven years, yet every date somehow turns into a group outing with Steven. Even our pre-wedding trip is no exception. Just then, a message from Giselle pops up on my phone. "I went to buy some water, and you wandered off to take pictures again? Hurry up and get in the car." I stare at the message for a few seconds before bursting out laughing. She still hasn't realized that I've been gone for five hours.

After ten years of agreeing to remain child-free with my husband, Scott Gibson, he suddenly tells me that his first love, Claire Tate, is pregnant with his child. His friends immediately step in and try to talk some sense into me. "Jenna, don't be upset. Scott just wants to leave an heir for his family." "Claire and Scott haven't had it easy all these years." "Besides, you can't even have kids. Are you seriously going to throw away his family's massive fortune?" Claire blinks innocently, placing a hand on her belly. "Jenna, I really love Scott. I don't want his family to end up without an heir." They sound so sincere, but just last night, they secretly called me barren. Scott is drinking at the time and sighs. "I don't want to hurt Jenna either, but my mom always said a woman isn't truly complete without children." I collect my thoughts and nod. That night, I find Scott's older brother, Nate Gibson, who lives abroad and rarely keeps in touch with the family. "They are dividing up the inheritance. Aren't you coming to see what's yours?" He has slept around for years and already has eight illegitimate children. I guess they don't have to worry about the Gibson family line dying out now.

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."

Ruth Jensen is determined to cure Zeke Carlton of his jealous streak. Every time he gets jealous, she buys her assistant, Calvin Ward, a present—everything from jewelry to expensive cars to villas. Zeke goes from throwing hysterical fits to going completely numb. One day, Ruth buys Calvin gifts for the 99th time. She looks at Zeke, who's shaking all over, his face drained of color. She says disdainfully, "Zeke, I can't stand men who are jealous and possessive. If you never learn to be generous and graceful, then I'll just keep treating Calvin well." But this time, Zeke doesn't question her like he usually does, nor does he ask her for money. He's actually gone to the office to pick something up today. To his surprise, he walks right into Ruth throwing a birthday celebration for Calvin there. The place is crammed full of gifts she's gotten Calvin, piled so high there's barely room to walk. At the door, a few workers are hauling in boxes while gossiping. "Careful. These are all this season's new releases Ms. Jensen bought for Mr. Ward. If we break anything, we'll never be able to pay it back!" "How many times has it been this month? Every time Ms. Jensen does this, she buys him stuff worth millions of dollars…" Zeke feels like someone has sliced his heart open. Every time he asks Ruth for money to keep paying his grandmother's medical bills, she always complains. Yet she doesn't even bat an eye when she buys Calvin these insanely expensive luxury goods. Zeke turns to leave, but Ruth frowns and calls out to him. "Are you actually stalking me all the way to the office now? It's Cal's birthday today. Did you deliberately come here dressed like that just to be an eyesore?"

On our graduation trip, my best friend, Maddie, hadn’t managed to snag a lower bunk in our Amtrak sleeper car. As she stared at the upper bunk with a troubled look, my boyfriend, Hal, teased her. “What’s wrong, Short Stuff? Can’t climb up there?” Maddie smacked his arm. “If you’re not going to help, shut up.” Instead of getting upset, Hal nudged me. “True, switch bunks with her. Knowing her, she’ll fall on her way up and land right on top of you.” I shifted my gaze to Hale, my mind wandering back to the journey throughout. He’d bought two breakfast sandwiches at the station, one of them being a vegan option. Hal had called Maddie out for always watching her weight. Still, he offered the vegan sandwich to her and handed me one with bacon, even though it wasn’t my choice of protein. When we arrived at the station, we had to haul our luggage down a flight of stairs. He’d grumbled about Maddie overpacking even when she couldn’t handle the luggage herself. Yet, Hal carried her suitcase down the stairs while leaving me to struggle with my own by myself. When we were deciding where to go, he’d scoffed at Maddie for not being able to handle a bit of spice, kicking up a fuss that she was ruining my chance to visit New Mexico and see the hot-air balloons. Then, without a second thought, he’d booked us tickets to Florida instead. He was supposed to be my boyfriend, but whenever Maddie was involved, he was always saying one thing and doing another. His priority was always her. So, I shook my head. “No, I’m not switching.”

My husband, William Aldous, believed in fair trade. Every favor came with a catch. No matter what I asked him for, his first move was always the same. He would counter with a question. He would ask, “What’s in it for me?” One stormy night, my car broke down halfway home, and I was stranded on the side of the road. I kept my voice down and begged him to come get me. He laid out his terms without missing a beat. “Fine, I’ll come get you. But you’re pulling your name from the department’s outstanding employee award. Let Jolie have it.” Another time, a colleague framed me, and I took the blame. I asked William to pull the surveillance footage and clear my name. He stayed indifferent. “Clearing your name is easy. But you have to hand the project’s core over to Jolie.” In just one year, all those trades completely erased me from the company we founded together. Then came the last time. My mother was badly hurt and hospitalized. She needed surgery, and the only surgeon who could do it was his uncle, Harold Meyer. Before he could name his price, I touched my stomach and spoke first. “In exchange, I’ll sign the divorce papers. You can have Jolie.”

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.

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 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."

After six years together, Isabella McCarthy proposed to Gabriel Hart six times. He accepted all six. But when she proposed for the seventh time, he didn't immediately offer his hand. She looked up at him with sincere eyes, wisps of black hair falling across her forehead as the lights gilded the fine contours of her face. Gabriel looked at her and suddenly gave a sardonic smile. "Does this proposal actually count?"

Ever since summer vacation began, my son had been getting a new toy almost every three days. Whenever I asked where they came from, he said my best friend had bought them. I was about to pick out a thank-you gift when I overheard him talking excitedly into his smartwatch from behind his bedroom door. "Reporting for duty, sir! Mission accomplished. Monster Mom believed me!" I froze, certain I'd misheard. Then he asked for his reward. "Dad, can I come to your third-anniversary celebration with Mama Viv tonight? "I'm so sick of eating canned soup and boxed mac and cheese with Mom every day. I could throw up!" My breath caught. I snatched the watch from his wrist. A photograph had just come through: my husband, who'd supposedly left for another shift at the auto repair shop that morning, was kissing another woman's forehead. My hands shook so badly I could barely hold the screen. My heart nearly stopped. My son threw down his toy and, in a panic, started scolding me. "Mom! Why are you spying on my private conversations? Mama Viv is picking me up to go have fun later. Don't ruin it for us!" Then he pressed himself against the window, waiting excitedly for her. I stood there, numb, staring at the apology my husband had sent barely a minute earlier. "I'm sorry, honey. You've both had to struggle because of me for so many years. I'll take you out for a nice dinner tonight." Tears blurred the words. It felt as though something had tightened around my heart and refused to let go. But I didn't scream or demand answers. Instead, when the car came to collect my son, I climbed in after him.

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.