Melodramatic Short Stories & Mistress Cheating Novels

A day before my wedding, my fiancee, Claudia George, was suddenly required to go on a business trip to North City. “There are some issues with the project. The issue should be settled by tomorrow morning, and I’ll return immediately. I won’t delay the wedding at all.” She was afraid that I would overthink the situation, so she video-called me right after she landed. In the video call, she was wearing the down jacket that I had bought her. Behind her was the white wall of the hotel. It was snowing heavily outside the window. She showed me the entire room. There was one pillow on the bed, and one set of toiletries on the sink. She even opened the closet for me to have a look. I nodded with a smile and urged her to go to sleep early. However, after she hung up, my tears trickled down my cheeks uncontrollably. It was a super El Nino year. No snow was supposed to fall upon North City.

In the eighth year of our marriage, I was on my way to drop my daughter off at school when I got a call from a hotel. "Is this Ms. Ariel Winters? Your husband, Vince Weaver, left his watch here." My blood went cold. Ariel Winters was my wife. Vince Weaver was my sworn brother. I rushed to my sister, desperate for her to deny it. She didn't even flinch. Instead, she gave me a calm, steady lecture. "Edwin, they already have a child together. Just pretend you don't know. Ariel didn't want you to get hurt. That's the only reason we agreed to keep it from you." Before I could speak, my brother-in-law cut in. "Yeah, Edwin, don't blame Vince for this. You're both fathers. Try to see it from his side." My brother-in-law was another member of our so-called sworn brotherhood. And now, he wanted me to forgive the man who had wrecked my family — and his secret child. Turns out I was the extra piece in every relationship I had: family, friendship, and love.

When I reach the underground parking lot, I find out that my husband, Victor Blake, has parked his car in a slanted manner. Great, his car has taken over my parking slot again. I call him and tell him to get his ass downstairs so that he can move the car out of my parking slot. While waiting for him, I come across a post on the Internet. "I'm screwing the brains out of my mistress right now. What should I do to avoid getting discovered by my wife, who might be home anytime soon?" The comment section goes nuts. Apparently, the original poster has left a like on one of the comments. "Park your car in a way that it eats into your wife's parking slot. That way, she'll have to call you every time she gets home. Not only do you have time to clean up the scene and protect your mistress, but you also get to tell your wife in a righteous manner that you're reserving a parking slot for her." I frown immediately. As soon as I tap on the WhatsApp chat, I hear someone knocking on my window. Victor can be seen jiggling his car keys outside the car. "What's with the rush? I did this just so I can reserve a parking slot for you, you know."

My boyfriend of six years, Liam Sherman, proposes to his long-time crush, Vivi Johansen, on my birthday. With that, the passionate love between us is a thing of the past. I come to my senses and distance myself from him, choosing to put our relationship behind us. As such, I decided to go along with the arranged marriage my family has planned.

I had hosted a late-night radio show for ten years. On the final call before the program went off the air, a male college student came on the line. "Mr. Miles, hello. I am in a lot of pain. I fell in love with my college professor. "She is married, but she treats me differently. "When I get sick, she cooks for me. When I am upset, we chat late into the night. She even takes me out on trips to clear my head..." After listening patiently, I spoke slowly and tried to counsel him. "It is normal to develop admiration for someone excellent and older than you, but right now, the most important thing is finishing school. "Actually, I once had a crush on a student teacher in high school. It was not until I met my wife that I understood what mature love really was. I hope you meet the right person one day too." The boy laughed in a way I could not quite read. "Well, good for you, Professor Cole's hubby."

The day my boyfriend returned from his business trip overseas, I broke up with him. He looked at me with a faint smile. "You're breaking up with me just because I didn't buy you that handbag?" "Yes." I nodded without hesitation. Seven days earlier, my boyfriend, Elias Jones, had traveled to Francoria on a business trip with his team. When he came back, he had souvenirs for everyone. Even the security guard at the office received a crocodile leather belt. Everyone got a gift except me. The bag I had been talking about for the past two months and wanted for my birthday had slipped his mind completely. Then I opened Instagram and saw a photograph his newly hired secretary had posted, proudly showing off a designer handbag. [Feeling grateful for the best boss in the world! You're the absolute best!] Elias had replied beneath the post. [It was nothing.] I stared at the screen for a long time before quietly deleting the message I had been about to send him. Melissa: [Can't wait for you to come home.] Elias and I had known each other since we were seven years old. We fell in love at eighteen and had spent the last twenty years growing up side by side. There had been a time when I was always his first priority. Somewhere along the way, everyone else started coming before me. Just like now. We were in the middle of ending our relationship when his phone lit up with a Messenger invitation from Tracy, his new secretary, asking him to join her for lunch. He glanced at the notification, smiled, and waved the whole conversation away. "Come on. Stop being dramatic. "It's just a handbag. I'll buy you one next time. "Tracy's waiting for me for lunch. Just grab a cab home." He hurried out without looking back. I did not try to stop him. Instead, I opened my chat with a studio in Brighton City. They had already invited me to join them seven different times. I finally sent my reply to their last offer. Melissa: [I've decided to accept your offer. My flight arrives tomorrow night. See you in Brighton City.] After hitting send, I slipped my engagement ring off my finger and placed it inside the top drawer of his desk. Elias… From this moment on, our lives would go in their separate directions.

My mate, Alpha Lucius, was kissing me when I heard it slip through his mind-link. “My sweet little pup. Daddy’s moving you and Mommy into the new villa tomorrow. I built it just for you.” That’s when I knew. The villa he’d spent a fortune of my pack’s money on… was a love nest. For his bastard and his whore, Clara. He didn't even notice I'd gone cold, too busy bragging about his re-election as Alliance Chairman. He’d been Chairman for four years. Everyone thought his re-election was a sure thing. But the fool forgot. He was only the most powerful Alpha because of me. He was only Chairman because of me. Because of my Silver Moon Pack. Because of my bloodline. I shoved him away. I sent an urgent mind-link to my father. "Lucius has betrayed the Silver Moon bloodline. He and that omega bitch… they’re going to die."

The night of our mating ceremony, my destined Alpha, Alex, basically tossed a three-year temporary mate bond agreement at me. He said he only had eyes for one wolf girl, Lily, an Omega. He told me he’d wait until the day he was in charge of the pack, then he’d personally cut our mate bond. Lily would be his one and only. That was until Lily had a huge fight with him and just up and vanished. Alex, after too many nights drowning his sorrows, accidentally marked me. It seemed like he was finally starting to get that I was his real mate. He even started willingly holding me as we fell asleep. Just when I thought Alex had totally accepted me, Lily came back. To save Lily’s mom, Alex didn’t think twice about giving up his own precious life force. To make Lily happy, he publicly shamed me at the Moon Festival, even snatching the only moonstone bracelet my grandma had left me. Lily smashed the bracelet, and my heart broke right along with it. On our third bonding anniversary, Alex booked my favorite restaurant, wanting to say sorry. But what he didn't know was that I’d already broken our mate bond. I wasn't going back.

The tenth time my parents flew more than six thousand miles to meet their future son-in-law, Nathaniel Prescott refused to show up. He ignored my calls and never replied to any messages. After God knew how many cups of coffee, I received an update from my best friend, Isla Monroe. Eight photos of snowy scenery surrounded a picture of two intertwined hands. The caption read: “Check-in number ten. He's perfect in every way.” My fingers curled into tight fists. It took twenty-seven calls before Nathaniel finally answered. “Where are you?” Howling wind rushed through the phone, followed by his distracted voice. “Out. What’s up?” “What’s up? This is the tenth time! My parents flew all this way just to see you, yet you—” There was a brief silence. Then, with barely concealed impatience, he said, “Enough. Isla and I are having a great time at Mount Rainier. I lost track of time. “Just ask your parents to stay another three days. I’ll come see them after I’ve had my fill of the trip.” Before I could even question him, the call ended. I stared at my reflection on the dark phone screen, my lips trembling. Then I smiled and looked at my parents. “If he’s not coming, let’s meet someone else.”

Eliza and Connor had been the absolute dream couple, from high school sweethearts to walking down the aisle. Everyone envied what they had. Then came the fifth year of their marriage, and Connor cheated. Eliza did not scream or throw a scene. She simply placed the stack of unmistakable photos on his home office desk and said calmly, “Either she leaves, or I leave with the kids.” It was the very first real hardship their marriage had ever faced. In the end, Connor chose his family. On the surface, life seemed to return to normal. Connor started going home on time every single night, took an active interest in the kids, and treated Eliza with respect. Yet, a rift now stood between them, and they could never go back to the way things used to be. One afternoon, Eliza wrapped up an interview early and decided to drop by the preschool to surprise her children. As she arrived at the front gates, she spotted her five-year-old twins, Leo and Maya. They were laughing happily as they threw themselves into the arms of a slender woman in a beige dress. The woman bent down, opening her arms to wrap the twins in a tight hug, her face beaming with affection. Eliza froze in her tracks. Her heart skipped a beat. Sofia? What was Sofia—the very woman Connor had cheated on her with—doing there? Before Eliza could even process the sight, the scene unfolding right before her eyes made her blood run cold.

I plan on ordering some food using my husband's phone, yet I've noticed a remark that's been saved on the delivery app. "The food is for a pregnant lady. Please make sure to be hygienic and use less oil and salt when making the dishes." I can feel my heart sink. I turn my gaze toward the bathroom, where my husband is. I can't figure out why my husband, who's been firm about not wanting a child, has been ordering meals for pregnant women. After a moment of hesitation, I scroll through the delivery app's order history with shaky hands. Numerous orders have been placed with the same restaurant, one that specializes in making exquisite dishes designed for pregnant women. Each of these food orders costs more than ten thousand dollars. My husband's company address has been chosen as the delivery address, and he's also the recipient. … After exiting the delivery app, I sit on the couch and stare into space. As I look at my husband's well-defined muscles, I recall how he, who's about to hit 40, is suddenly quite invested in getting in shape over the past year. I blurt out asking, "Have you been ordering food to your office often lately?" My husband freezes for a split second. Then, he fixes me with a gentle gaze. "I do that once in a while. Why are you suddenly asking about that? By the way, I haven't had the sweet and sour meatballs you make in a long while. Can you make some for me so that I can bring them to the office for my lunch tomorrow?" I smile at him and agree to his request. Still, I toss and turn in bed as the remark about the pregnant lady in his phone keeps gnawing at me that night.

For ten years, I stand by Robert Lopez's side, watching him rise from the trenches of obscurity to the blinding heights of superstardom. But on the night he clinches the Best Actor award, he drops to one knee and proposes to a starlet he's known for less than ten days. Those eyes that are so full of love and devotion, no matter who they're looking at, turn cold and threatening for the first time. "Danielle, I've slept with her, so I need to take responsibility. You're willing to stay by my side without a title or a promise, but she can't. She needs a sense of security." A bitter laugh escapes me. That's when I finally understand that love has nothing to do with time. But hear this, Robert. Just because I've waited for you for ten years doesn't mean I deserve to be treated like trash or that you're the only man for me.

My wife, Claire, wanted our son to give up a kidney to save her childhood sweetheart's daughter. I refused. I fought her so hard that I thought she'd finally let it go. Then our son vanished, and Claire stopped answering my calls. I went to the hospital to find her. There, I learned that the little girl had finally found a donor. Claire would perform the transplant herself. She'd promised to keep her safe. Then I saw the name listed under deceased organ donor. It was my son's.

On the way to our wedding, my fiancé got a hysterical call from his ex-wife. "Gavin, he's having another episode. He keeps crying for his daddy." This was the third time it happened. Each time we were about to get married, her son would have another psychosomatic episode. Gavin Grant looked at me hesitantly. I knew what he was thinking, so I nodded. "I'll get out. Go ahead." He clasped my hand gratefully. "I'm sorry, Vivian. I'll make it up to you." Before I could even steady myself, he was already telling the driver to turn around. Still in my wedding dress, I stood by the side of the road and hailed a cab. Then, my phone buzzed with a message from Gavin—he'd given me $100 million. He hadn't forgotten to compensate me. He'd just forgotten what I'd told him. "Gavin, three strikes and you're out." I took the money. After all, a gold digger had to respect the money. But as gold diggers, we had another rule. Everyone was worth pursuing, Gavin included. But after three strikes, he simply wasn't worth the trouble anymore.

I didn't come from money, so everyone around my rich girlfriend decided I had to be a gold digger. Nobody more than Tristan Reed, her male best friend. He told them he'd been kept by rich women himself, so he understood men like me better than anyone. To prove I wasn't that kind of man, I never accepted a single expensive gift from Vivian Ford during the three years I spent with her. Tristan had an explanation for that too. "He says no out loud, but he's waiting for her to offer something better on her own. It's called playing hard-to-get." Then came Vivian's birthday. I'd saved six months of my salary and bought her a necklace. I was almost at the door of the private room when I heard Tristan laughing. "See? I told you he'd buy something expensive. "That's the oldest trick a gold digger has. Pretend you're not after the money, then trade a little of it for a lot." Vivian sat beside him filing her nails. She didn't contradict him. Someone egged him on. "Vivian, your boyfriend's not just a gold digger, he's a professional." Then somebody spotted me and made a hushing gesture. "Quiet, he's here." Tristan just scoffed. "Some men ought to be honest like me. That's what rich women actually want. Am I wrong?" Vivian was quiet for a long moment. Then she looked up at me. "After all this time pretending in front of me, were you really just waiting for one big payout?" I stood in the doorway, and the necklace in my hand suddenly felt too heavy to hold. I didn't answer. I just turned around and left. A heart that's doubted every single time is one I'm taking back for good.

At my wedding rehearsal dinner, a photo of me and my fiancé’s older brother—naked in bed—was displayed in front of everyone. I said it was a setup. Jason, my soon-to-be husband and the Don of the Vale, said, “I trust you.” He erased the footage—and married me anyway. For two years, he kept me hidden while my stepsister, Nerissa, stood beside him in public. He said it was to protect me—so I believed him. I believed him even when the rumors said he was sleeping with her, even when he introduced her as his Donna… until today, when I found them in bed together. Jason didn’t even stop kissing her when he saw me. “Do you like this anniversary gift, Alina?” That was when I finally understood— Jason had never believed me—and the reason he still married me wasn’t love. It was punishment.

It was the fourth anniversary of our relationship. Heather Hilmann took her friend Liam Sherr and me went to have barbecue together. The waiter recognized them and smiled, asking, "Still the usuals?" Heather nodded. It was a table by the window for two, and Liam sat on the inside. The ribeye had slightly charred edges, and the dipping sauce had no onions. She gave the first piece and the last piece to Liam. I sat near the aisle, and there was not even a dipping‑sauce dish in front of me. When they paid the bill, the waiter checked the membership records and reminded them with a smile, "Ms. Hilmann and Mr. Sherr, tonight was your 100th visit. You can take your customized grill pan home." A line of words was engraved on the back of the grill pan: [Heather and Liam, Together Forever.] The date was three years ago. I then remembered that Heather had been at the hospital celebrating my birthday that day. It turned out that the two hours she had been away were not for a company meeting. Liam touched the engraving and asked her with a smile, "After you and Ian Jeffrey get married, will we still have our monthly get‑together?"

I've gone on a business trip. It's 3:00 am when my best friend suddenly calls me. He asks me why I didn't tell him that I already have a baby, seeing as we haven't met for a year. That question takes me by surprise. Josephine Bennett and I have been married for many years, but we've been using contraception all this time. Since when do we have a baby together? My best friend then sends me a screenshot of Josephine's social media feed. The caption shows, "This marks our 100th day together, my darling baby! I love you so much!" My heart goes tense when I see the screenshot. Immediately, I call Josephine to ask her what's going on. Her reaction is very cool and collected, though. "That's a relative's baby. I found the baby super adorable, so I decided to share the post. I didn't think I'd end up sharing the caption too." I just smile when I hear Josephine's answer. Later on, I call my older brother, Leonard Sterling. "Cut the funding for Josephine's research project. Turns out she's been cheating on me."

My wife, Jenna Wilkinson, has severe insomnia. She can't sleep if there's even the slightest noise. So after six years of marriage, I've gotten used to living quietly. Once it's past 9:00 pm, I don't turn on the TV, make phone calls, or even eat. I even tiptoe everywhere around the house. Whenever I watch her sleep peacefully, I always feel like all of it is worth it. That is, until one day, when I go to her office to drop off some documents and find the door slightly ajar. Her secretary, Derek Herman, is sitting cross-legged on the carpet, eating chips while a variety show plays at full volume. As for Jenna, she is asleep on the couch. When Derek tries to turn down the volume, Jenna runs her fingers through his hair with her eyes closed, saying, "Don't turn it down. I actually sleep better with a little noise." Standing outside the door, I think back to the terrible cold I had last month. I was so afraid my coughing would wake her that I buried my face in my pillow to muffle my coughs all night. The next morning, she frowned at me. "Lance, you were breathing so loudly last night that I couldn't sleep a wink. Be more careful next time." As the crunching of chips blended with Jenna's steady breathing, I slowly backed away. It turns out she never needed silence to sleep. She simply needs someone, and that someone isn't me. From then on, I never disturbed her sleep again.

Lynette Kensington's rules took effect on the second day of our marriage. "Your monthly spending is capped at 2,000 dollars. For any single purchase over 100 dollars, photograph the receipt and send it to me for approval. It's not that I'm cheap. I'm helping you learn how to budget. You've never had any discipline with money," she claimed. I thought she had a point. So for three years, buying a single jacket meant budgeting for half the month, and replacing a pair of contact lenses meant waiting for her approval. Then, last month, I found a supplementary card statement tucked inside the pocket of her trench coat. The cardholder was Jayden Scott, her Administrative Director. The transactions from the previous three months: A luxury menswear boutique: 17,400 dollars. A high-end annual golf membership: 6,400 dollars. A Michelin-starred restaurant: 2,800 dollars. The total amounted to more than a year of my living expenses. I carefully refolded the statement exactly as I had found it and slipped it back into the same pocket. That night, Lynette came home and found me sitting with the ledger. "How much did you spend today?" she asked, barely sparing me a glance. I didn't look up. "25 dollars. 13 dollars on groceries, and 12 dollars on utilities." She gave a satisfied hum and walked into the study. But what I wrote on the last page of the ledger wasn't a number. It was my name, my signature on a divorce agreement she hadn't seen yet.