Mga Maiikling Kwento tungkol sa Feel-Good Story at mga Nobela ng Mistress na may Cheating

My buddy, Jayden Jenkins, has come over to my place again to mooch a free meal. It is scorching hot outside, and I am sweating over the stove in the kitchen. Meanwhile, Jayden is lounging in the air-conditioned living room. After biting the tip off a strawberry, he pulls my wife, Willow Simpson, into his arms and casually pops the rest into her mouth. "Here, Willow. Help me finish it," he says with a wicked grin. "It's rare enough that this cheap bastard Caius finally buys strawberries. Now he'll complain that I wasted one if I don't finish it." I wipe the sweat from my forehead and glance toward the living room, just in time to see Willow swallow the half-eaten strawberry. The thing is, she is a serious germaphobe. We've been married for years, and even kissing me is something she rarely allows. I remember another sweltering evening. After playing basketball, I bought a Coke and offered her the half-finished cup. "Willow, you must be thirsty. Here, take a sip. It's nice and cold. It'll cool you down." She slapped the cup away and snapped, "Caius, do you have any idea how many kinds of bacteria are in saliva? Don't ever do something that disgusting again." On that crowded field, people stared at our exchange, some barely hiding their amusement. I froze, my hand still hovering near her forehead as I tried to wipe away her sweat. I knew I would never forget the humiliation I felt in that moment. But I told myself she was simply distant and hard to please. Again and again, I reminded myself not to be so sensitive and to respect her boundaries. Turns out, that wasn't the case. She can set aside her fear of germs. She just isn't willing to do it for me.

It was three days before New Year's Eve when a court summons arrived. The court ruled that I had defamed Ethan Tanner and his mistress when I insulted them in the homeowners' group chat and ordered me to issue a public apology every day for fifteen days straight. Ethan was beside himself with delight as he waved the judgment in my face. "I told you. This is a society governed by law. Shrews who hurl abuse have to pay the price. You better get cracking on those 15 days of apologies and not a day less!" I stared at his smug face. Instead of crying or making a scene, I turned around and set up my phone stand. "Fine. Have it your way. I'll apologize right now." "I'm gonna make sure that you go viral and watch as your whole life goes up in flames," I thought to myself.

My boyfriend, Sean Conway, tells me he wants to get married and asks me to wear a wedding dress to the company's annual party. I think he's finally going to propose. So I show up in the most beautiful wedding gown I can find, bouquet in hand, and confess my love to him in front of the entire company. Suddenly, his sweet, innocent-looking secretary, Hannah Sloan, storms over and dumps an entire cup of coffee on me. "You shameless, ugly bitch! Just because you landed a nine-figure deal, you think you can steal my husband? You slut! Keep running your mouth, and I'll shut it for you!" Sean has always been a stickler for the rules, but instead of standing up for me, he accuses me of violating company policy and hands my project over to Hannah. Everyone looks at me with pity, waiting for me to make a scene. But instead of arguing or getting angry, I simply take off my employee badge and toss it to Hannah. "So you're the CEO's wife. My mistake. Consider my director position a wedding gift to you both." What Sean doesn't know is that Dad practically forced me to take on that nine-figure project in the first place. Now that I'm stepping down as project lead, Sean won't be able to move forward with the deal. And since he replaced the project lead at the last minute, his company will be in breach of contract. Bankruptcy will only be the beginning. He'll be left drowning in debt too.

All 30,000 relief meals my company produced are deemed unsafe and destroyed in an incinerator. Jack Lumber, my husband and the deputy director of the city's Department of Health, is the one who orders them destroyed. The woman who reports my company is Shirley Watson, his childhood friend and a former investigative reporter. This is already the third time she has gone after my company. The first time, she reports one of my trucks for illegal parking, and Jack forces me to issue a public apology. The second time, she accuses me of violating packaging and labeling regulations. Jack immediately fines my company and orders us to suspend operations for a month. Every time, he takes her side and makes me pay the price. This time, a major disaster cuts off power and water in the region. I rush relief meals to the area overnight, but they block my trucks, claiming that my food is contaminated. I hold out the inspection certificates and plead with Jack. "People are waiting for these meals. If anything goes wrong, I'll take full responsibility!" Jack waves me off. "Shirley is a reporter. She wouldn't make something like this up. Destroy all the meals immediately!" Two days later, the lab report confirms that every ingredient meets safety standards. However, it's too late. The relief meals have already been destroyed, and accusations that my company sent contaminated food to the disaster zone are spreading online. My company is facing a massive online boycott, and our biggest clients are canceling their contracts one after another. Jack looks at the lab report, uneasy but still arrogant. "Shirley made a mistake, but she meant well." Finding this ridiculous, I pull off my wedding ring and say, "I've given you three chances. Let's get a divorce."

Ronan Blackwell was wrapping his arm around some girl as they stepped out of the hotel elevator. I was sitting right there on the lobby couch, snacking on nuts. The second Ronan locked eyes with me, his face went paler than a three-day-old corpse. The girl in his arms reacted first, shoving him away with a sharp gasp. "Miss West, wait, it's not what it looks like!" she squeaked. I rubbed my forehead. "Alright, drop the act. You're practically bursting at the seams trying not to laugh." Honestly, it wasn't just her. I was barely holding back a massive grin myself. Ronan getting caught red-handed cheating meant I was walking away with ten percent of the family company stock. Jackpot.

The day our daughter got into a top college, my husband, Henry Kushner, handed her five $50 bills. "That's your monthly allowance." I stared at him. "She needs clothes. Makeup. How is $250 a month supposed to cover all that?" Henry frowned. "She's your daughter too. And when I was in college, $250 was more than enough." Ashley looked down at the cash, eyes red. My chest tightened. I turned away and pulled out my phone, ready to send her the money I'd secretly saved for a laptop. Then Henry's phone rang. He jumped up and headed straight for the balcony. The glass door didn't close all the way. His voice floated back inside—soft, warm, worried. "Anna, why would you borrow money from me? You don't have to. "Take the $30,000. Keep it. Don't worry about paying me back. You and Brandon shouldn't have to go without. If he wants to attend a summer program abroad, let him." Anna Currey. The woman Henry had never gotten over. And Brandon was her son. I walked back into the living room, numb. Ashley was on the floor, taping the broken handle of her old suitcase. Trying to save money. She kept her head down, too embarrassed to look at me. I walked over, snatched the beat-up suitcase away, and pulled her into my arms. Forget Henry's $250. We didn't need it. Once the semester started, I was getting a lawyer. And a divorce. Henry could keep his money.

At a party hosted at our house, my husband sang a soul-stirring rendition of “Missing You Tonight". He poured his heart into it, his eyes misty and his voice raspy with emotion. I secretly recorded a video and posted it online. To my surprise, the video blew up. Hundreds of thousands of likes poured in, with the comment section overflowing with sympathy. Laughing, I handed my phone to my husband. “Jacob, you went viral.” The top-voted comment read: [Girl, I’m not one to stir up drama, but your husband looks like he’s nursing a broken heart.] I thought he’d just laugh it off with a half-hearted smile. Instead, he took the phone and looked me straight in the eye with dead seriousness. “You’re right, I am heartbroken. I fell for a younger girl, but she refuses to be my lover and is trying to break up with me.” The room fell silent. I didn’t cry or make a scene. I just took my phone back and spoke in a flat, even tone. “That works out then. Let’s get a divorce. The young guy I’ve been seeing on the side has been throwing a fit, too, demanding I make things official with him.”

After my wife married and divorced me ten times, she signed a Love Insurance policy with me. "Ethan, I know I'm putting off the remarriage a little longer this time. So I'm signing this with you first. Think of it as my guarantee to you." Not long after, she wanted to terminate our policy so she could go marry the man she'd never gotten over. "Julian doesn't have long. His last wish is to marry me. I can't take that away from a dying man." What she didn't know was that the policy had a clause in it. If it was terminated before it matured, I'd be taken away by a private organization, and the two of us would never see each other again.

The first time my boyfriend, Jason Calloway, brought me to meet his friends, I wore a scarf to hide the hickeys he'd left the night before. Halfway through dinner, his only female friend suddenly yanked my scarf off. "No wonder you're wearing a scarf in this heat, putting on airs. We're all adults here. What haven't we seen? Looks like you and Jason had quite the wild night..." Jason knew how easily I got embarrassed and quickly tried to cut her off. But she pulled down her own collar instead. "See this bite mark? Jason did it. I didn't even bother putting ointment on it afterward. I just left it out in the open, telling everyone Jason's my little lapdog. That's how a woman earns her place!" Jason frowned, his gaze fixed on the pale, full swell of Vivian Hale's chest, then pulled her hand away, his expression darkening. "There are people here! Put your clothes back!" Then he turned to me. "That's just how my friends are, no filter. Have a few drinks with us and you'll warm up to them." I watched his hand pressing Vivian's collar closed and let out a cold laugh, pushing my chair back from the table. "I'll pass on the drinks. If you enjoy being some other woman's lapdog, don't let me stop you." We Elves never date dogs.

The stray cat I adopted had recently started looking at my boyfriend, Logan Bennett, and his female best friend, Chloe Dawson, like they were complete idiots. Then one day, Chloe climbed into the passenger seat of Logan’s car again and shot me a provocative smile. A fierce little voice suddenly rang out in my head: “Human, that woman is calling you an idiot in her head! She’s also planning to get your man drunk tonight! Hurry up and slap her! If you do, I’ll make sure you find money on the street when you leave!” I froze and stared down at Mochi in my arms. So my cat could not only talk, but also read minds and predict the future? Fine. From today on, Mochi and I would make these two shameless cheaters pay—and make sure everyone knew exactly who they were!

I had been able to see the labels above people's heads ever since I was little. When I was three, my grandpa held a family dinner at his house. Dad showed up with his secretary, Vivian Clarke. The moment she walked through the door, she went straight to Mom's seat. She rubbed her lower back and smiled sweetly. "Mrs. Lincoln, I hope you don't mind. Mr. Lincoln and I have been working on a project all day, and we're exhausted." I looked around the room. Above Eric's head was a glaring label. "Cheater." Above Mom's head was a dull gray label. "Loser." And above Vivian's head was a brightly shining label. "Ultimate gold digger." I immediately tugged on Eric's sleeve and asked loudly, "Dad, what do ‘cheater’ and ‘gold digger’ mean?"

When I find out my husband is cheating on me, I don't cry. My pride won't let me waste a single tear on a man who isn't worth it. Instead, I crash a stranger's funeral so I can cry my eyes out over someone else's memorial photo. I'm sobbing so hard I'm shaking when the widow suddenly shoves a million-dollar check into my hand. "Take the money and get lost. Don't think you can worm your way into my family just because he's dead." I stare down at the check. Suddenly, being the other woman doesn't seem so bad. At least she gets paid. Meanwhile, I'm the wife who gets cheated on and humiliated, and somehow I'm still the one expected to step aside for the other woman. I'm about to leave when an arm suddenly blocks my way. The dead man's son is a tall, handsome college student. He leans down, looks me straight in the eye, and sneers, "You fraud. You're crying your eyes out over my dad, but you can't even get his name right." Caught, I take a step back. He plucks the check from my hand and leans close to my ear. "You want the million dollars? Fine. Then play along with me and help me piss off my mom. She's the one who actually cheated on my dad."

Everyone was having a blast on the yacht for Valentine’s Day when my boyfriend, Ethan Hayes, asked me to go tell his uncle I fancied him. “Go on, tell him. You’re a lucky girl if he actually takes a liking to you! Next time we meet, I might even have to call you auntie!” Vivian Lawrence, his childhood sweetheart, was by my boyfriend’s side, smiling triumphantly. Just a few minutes ago, they had shared a glass of cocktail. I clutched the watch in my pocket—bought with two months of my savings to make peace—my heart riddled with holes. Suddenly, a line of live comment lit up before my eyes: “I’m sick of this jerk. Girl, go for the uncle. He’s the real big shot. He’s fancied you for a long time, even gave up everything abroad to come back to you!” Looking at the sneering Ethan, I took a deep breath, pulled up my skirt, revealing my long, straight legs. “Fine, I’ll give it a try! “If he returns my affection, you’ll have to call me your aunt soon.”

On the day I returned to my alma mater for its centennial celebration, my assistant sent me a screenshot of a social media post. "I hope my girl's first time performing onstage at eighteen goes perfectly." In the photo, an unfamiliar girl stood backstage in my custom-made gown, looking as graceful as a white swan. The post was made by my husband, and he had hidden it from me alone. I was staring at the photo, about to message him and demand an explanation, when the girl appeared onstage at the celebration. I was seated in the front row. She looked exactly as she did in the photo, singing the song my husband had composed for me. After a moment's thought, I took out my phone, recorded her performance, and sent it straight to him. "Honey, what a coincidence. I just found my missing gown and necklace here at the school. "This girl is even singing the song you wrote for me. Anyone who didn't know better might think she was some obsessed fan trying to be me. "Tell me, if I call the police right now, how many years do you think she'd get?" The moment my message went through, a spotlight swept across the audience and landed squarely on my husband's face. He appeared on the big screen holding a banner covered with messages cheering the girl on. Without hesitation, I rose from my seat, turned to him, and smiled. "Fancy seeing you here, Honey."

My CEO husband, Martin Gentry, finds out I volunteered to donate some of my brainstem tissue to wake Evelyn Stout, the woman he's never gotten over. He finally leaves the monastery where he's spent the past seven years praying for her. For the first time, he comes to see me at the office and asks what I want in return. Everyone assumes I'll use the opportunity to ask him for a baby and secure my place as his wife. Instead, I hand him divorce papers. Everyone thinks I'm just playing hard to get. Martin's expression turns cold. He removes me from every position I hold at the company. Then he promotes Evelyn, gives her a raise, and tells me to think long and hard about what I've done. What Martin doesn't know is that the surgery wiped out seven years of my memories. I'm no longer the wife who put up with everything just to keep the peace. I'm the woman I was seven years ago, full of dreams and never afraid to stand up for myself. And this time, I'm done putting myself last for anyone.

My boyfriend's childhood friend had set her sights on the one keepsake my mother left me. She wheedled and needled at me for weeks, but I never gave in. A few months later, my boyfriend came to me again, saying his business had failed and left him buried in loan-shark debt. He said that if he couldn't pay it back, the collectors would cut off his limbs. To help him settle it, I handed over every cent I'd saved, even my mother's bracelet. That same night, while I was working at the club, I overheard a conversation in one of the private booths. "Eric, if it weren't for Donna's idea to have the rest of us play loan sharks and put on this whole act with you, there's no way your girlfriend would've handed over that bracelet she'd been hiding away." Eric laughed, pleased with himself, and downed the wine in his glass. "It's just a busted old bracelet. Donna wants it, so of course I'll find a way to get it for her. "Now help me think of something else. What's the next test for Liv?" So this was it. Everything I'd given up for him over five years of loving him had just been one long test. His so-called loan-shark debt had only ever been a scheme he'd written and directed himself. I turned and walked out of the club, and called the wealthiest man in the country, the father I'd been too stubborn to speak to for years. "Dad, I lost. I'll marry the man you picked out for me."

My fiancée is beautiful and has a steady job. She's into drones, and she joined a group chat. I hinted to her, carefully, that the people in that group weren't right, and that if anything went wrong she'd be on the hook too. Then I joined the group myself on a burner account, and saw the way Alyssa carried herself in there. Several men who were obviously close with her kept posting flirty stickers. Alyssa's voice messages came back all bashful. “Stop it! You're all married men, and you're picking on me like this!” “Next flight, let's all go camping together.” Their plan was five men and one woman, two days and one night. And a drone taking photographs at twenty-six thousand feet. You'd have to have something wrong with your head to do that.

My half-brother, Jim Sullivan, pushed me down a snowy mountain, leaving me with a fractured spine. My mom, Doris Moore, and my wife, Julia Stone, rushed me to the hospital in a panic. Later, they learned that I might be permanently paralyzed. To put my mind at ease, Julia held up a ring and swore that she would take care of me for the rest of my life. Mom also cut ties with Jim, saying she would make him pay for what he had done. They told me Jim fell off a cliff while trying to escape, and they never found his body. I believed them. That was until three years into my marriage, a friend sent me a video. In the footage, Jim, who was supposed to be dead, was holding a child in his left arm and had his right arm around Julia. "Julia, thank goodness you helped me fake my death. Otherwise, I'd be in prison right now!" Jim said. "Has Mom said when we can get the inheritance Joshua's dad left him? "I really can't stand living in hiding like this anymore!" "Jim, I know these past few years haven't been easy for you," Julia said. "If it weren't for that inheritance, I wouldn't have married that cripple. "As soon as we get that money, the three of us can be together again!" It turned out that what I thought was my salvation was just another terrible betrayal. The two women who mattered most to me had never truly cared about me. If that was the case, I wouldn't show them any mercy.

After three years in a long-distance relationship, I went straight to the courthouse as soon as my flight landed, ready to marry Willow Payne. Instead, she showed up holding a newborn baby. Without a trace of guilt, she placed the baby in my arms. "This is Rachel, my daughter with Preston. You can raise her from now on." My mind went blank. Standing beside her, my childhood friend, Preston Webb, burst out laughing. "Willow and I got drunk one night, and one thing led to another. We ended up sleeping together. Your time working out of town is finally over, and now you get to come home and be a dad. Hell of a surprise, right?" I stared at them. "Do you seriously think this is funny?" Preston only grinned wider. "Willow and I made a bet about whether you'd cry when you found out she had my baby. I said you wouldn't. So I won. Willow promised to travel the world with me until I get bored and feel like coming back." Willow gave him an amused look, then turned to me like she was doing me a favor. "My daughter is your daughter, too. Take good care of her. When I get back, I'll marry you." She took Preston's hand and walked away with him. I looked down at the baby in my arms. Her skin and the whites of her eyes were so yellow that even I knew something was wrong. I called after them, but neither one looked back. Three years later, Willow showed up at my workplace. "Michael, I'm here to keep my promise. Let's get married. "But Preston and I have a daughter together. We thought it would be better for her if her parents were legally married, so Preston and I got married. "I can't legally marry you anymore, but I can still give you the wedding." She pulled out a wedding band and reached for my hand, trying to slip it onto my finger. I knocked her hand away and stepped back. "I already have a wedding ring. My wife gave it to me."

After losing his entire retirement savings to a scam, my father-in-law, Kyle Knight, tried to kill himself by overdosing on pills. I frantically called my husband, Joshua Knight, a psychology expert, hoping he could talk his father out of it. "Dad lost his entire retirement fund to a scam. He left a suicide note, and he's trying to kill himself. Come home!" Instead, Joshua snapped at me for making such a big deal out of it. "Your dad's made plenty of bad decisions before. Maybe this'll finally teach him a lesson. Don't bother me with stupid stuff like this again. I'm trying to watch a movie with Vanessa." For a second, I thought he hadn't heard me clearly. I was about to tell him that the man dying was his own father. Then Vanessa Morgan's voice came through the phone. The horror movie scared her. Joshua immediately turned to comfort her. Later, he casually told me to put together a PowerPoint on how my dad got scammed so he could use the case in one of his anti-scam livestreams. I swallowed everything I was about to say and obediently said, "Okay." After all, the person who scammed Kyle out of his retirement savings and drove him to suicide was Vanessa's mother.