Cerita Pendek Melodramatic & Novel Mistress Cheating

When I was 14, my father beat me so badly that my ears rang. It was my sister and Micheal Lane who stood in front of me with knives in hand, protecting me. When I was 18, they had fought their way into the court, determined to put our father behind bars and take me away from him. When I was 21, on my wedding day to Micheal, my sister forced him to kneel before me and said, “You will never betray Chloe. If you do, I’ll make sure you leave with nothing, and I’ll kill you myself.” In our eight years of marriage, he truly was the perfect husband. He did not have late-night business dinners, he was never home late, and his phone password was my birthday. Even our son, Tristan, said his dad loved me the most in the world. However, on Tristan’s seventh birthday, he made a wish with his eyes closed, “I hope Daddy stops going to his other home. Daddy sneaks out every night after Mommy falls asleep. I don’t want to lie anymore.” I thought he was joking, so I crouched down and asked, “Who lives at your daddy's other home?” Tristan hid behind me and pointed into the distance. I followed his gaze. The cake knife slipped from my hand and clattered to the floor. Standing there was the woman I loved most in the world—my sister. Yet beneath the table, I could clearly see her hand intertwined tightly with Micheal’s.

Jordan Ford lost a bet, and I was forced to remove my makeup in front of everyone. The whole crowd goaded me on while his friends laughed especially loudly. “Don’t be a buzzkill. Eira already did it. “Come on, Clara! You’re not chickening out, are you?” Three years prior, I had saved Jordan from a car accident. Glass shards cut my face and left a scar that could barely be concealed with makeup. “Go on, remove it.” Through the smoke, his gaze met mine with nothing but casual indifference. I dragged a makeup-removing wipe across my face, again and again, revealing the ugly scar. “It’s just makeup. Quit being so dramatic. “You killed my mother back then. That scar is just a light price to pay for it.”

At a class reunion, someone introduced me to the man I had secretly dated for five years. “Mr. Lawson, Mia works on your research team too. Why don’t you two give it a try?” I walked over to Zeke Lawson, ready to take this chance to finally tell everyone that we were together. But Zeke took a step back and pointed toward his childhood friend, who had just returned from overseas. “No, thanks. I already have feelings for someone else.” He kept his distance and made sure no one would suspect anything between us. “If you’re looking to get married, I can introduce you to someone. I think you’d be a great match.” I let out an awkward laugh as I looked at Zeke, who was keeping a good ten feet between us. We had been secretly dating for five years, yet Zeke always made sure everyone thought he was single. He always kept his distance from me. I had waited five years for him to make our relationship public. I was not going to wait anymore. “Sure. Introduce him to me.”

In order to keep Sam Anderson from being fired, my lawyer wife, Blair Reid, drugged me before the hearing and handed my important case over to him. Blair then handed one of my major cases over to Sam. “The effect of the poison will only last for a day. Once the case is over, I’ll make it up to you.” I watched as Blair pulled an all-nighter to draft an outline for Sam and promote him. She also brought him around to network with other lawyers. After some time passed, Blair said she felt sorry for me. She told me she would immediately promote me to a partner at the law firm. However, she went crazy after realizing I did not get my voice back.

The day of my wedding, my girlfriend, Sherry Jennings, asked me to wait another three weeks for her. It seemed that she had used half her cells to clone her first love so that the dead man would have no regrets in life. The clone only had three weeks to live. During the first week, she beat her fear of heights to go on a Ferris wheel with him, holding him close at the top. During the second week, she used up all her savings to take him to see the aurora and immortalize their love. In the last week, their story touched people around the world, and with countless reporters watching, they kissed until the clone’s heart stopped beating. After that, she came back happily and told me that she wanted to have our long-awaited wedding. Unfortunately, what she came back to was the news of my death.

My fiancé, Jim Smith, had always been the kind of older brother who spoiled his younger sister. Harriet Smith, his adopted sister, was the first person he thought of whenever anything happened. When the craze for seasonal drinks swept through town, he was quick to buy Harriet the first one of the season. When he bought his first car outright, he saved the passenger seat for her to try first. Even when a fire broke out in our house in the middle of the night, his first instinct was to rush into Harriet's room and carry her downstairs. Only after he knew she was safe did he call to wake me. After I was injured in that fire, I finally lost my temper and demanded that he choose between Harriet and me. He looked genuinely confused. "Cecilia, Harriet and I have been through everything together since we were kids. She's just a kid. Why are you comparing yourself to her?" Then, as if he were offering me some perfectly reasonable solution, he added, "How about this? From now on, I promise I will treat you both equally. Okay?" I hesitated for a long time before finally agreeing. I had no idea that, later, the first wedding ring Jim had custom-made would go to Harriet. Even the wedding dress was no exception. Today was the day we had agreed to go to the county clerk's office and make our marriage official. Harriet came with us. The moment we arrived, she looked at Jim and said, "Jim, it's your first time doing this, so I wanna do it too."

In a feverish haze, I heard the doorbell ring. The delivery guy called out, "Delivery for Mr. Hendrick." I smiled as I took it from the delivery guy and thanked him. I was going to laugh at James for being childish. After all, before falling asleep, I had only mentioned that I had a fever. Yet he had already ordered medicine for me. However, when I opened the delivery bag and saw what was inside, my expression froze. Condoms and lubricant were right there in plain sight, and even the toy in my hand made my head spin. Just as I took out my phone, ready to demand an explanation from my husband, a text message suddenly popped up. "This is Sangland Resortworld. Dear Mr. Hendrick, we are delighted to confirm your reservation…"

My husband, Ethan Caldwell, has three mistresses who have no idea the others even exist. That is because I always make sure to plan his schedule. "On the 15th, you're going skiing with Lydia Bennett. On the 18th, you're taking Vivian Sinclair house hunting. On the 25th, you're flying to Derbin Isle with Jennifer Harrington to see the Northern Lights. I've already booked the tickets." After checking the three conversations he has pinned to the top of his phone, I recited his schedule to him as calmly as if I were discussing an ordinary business meeting. Without even looking up, Ethan says, "Add one more thing on the 20th. It's Vivi's dog's third birthday." I freeze for a moment but eventually add it to his schedule. The 20th is supposed to be the day he finally keeps his promise to give me the wedding we've never had. He has already postponed it 99 times, all for the sake of those three women. When I fall silent, Ethan pulls a silk scarf from one of the mountains of gift bags piled beside him and hands it to me. "Be good, Sienna. I promise this is the last time I'll postpone it." The scarf is actually part of Jennifer's gift package. I'm the one who goes to the boutique and places the order for him. I don't make a scene. I simply accept the scarf, then pull out the contract I've already reviewed and hand it to him to sign. Ethan seems pleased by my reaction. "You're finally starting to act like a proper wife from a wealthy family. Everyone in our circle envies me for having a fabulous wife like you. If you'd come to your senses two years ago, we wouldn't have had to keep postponing the wedding." I say nothing. I just watch as he signs his name. What he doesn't know is that I've slipped a divorce agreement into the stack of documents. The wedding I've been waiting for all these years is never going to happen. Someone else has already promised me the wedding I never get to have.

My husband's long-distance girlfriend is coming to check up on him again. I hear she'll be here in 20 minutes. Before my husband can say anything, I head to the master bedroom and grab my suitcase, as I always do. Thankfully, after her last visit a month ago, I never bother putting my clothes or toiletries back where they belong. So, this time, I don't have to pack in a panic. It's also thanks to her frequent visits that I'm able to go from hysterical and heartbroken in the beginning to completely numb and unfazed now. Seeing how efficiently I'm making my exit, Isaac Jones actually follows me out for once. He reaches out and ruffles my hair. "Once Candy leaves, we'll get remarried. She's always been proud and would never agree to be the other woman. So, you'll just have to put up with this a little longer. Once I'm done with her, I'll settle down. I won't keep messing around like all the other guys in my circle." As he speaks, I receive a bank transfer of one million dollars as compensation. This time, I don't send it back. I simply pull the car door shut. What Isaac doesn't know is that after eight marriages and eight divorces, I've finally broken free from him. This time, I'm not coming back.

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.

In Willow Creek, there is an unspoken rule about wedding processions: never retrace your route. But on the day we are supposed to get married, my fiancee, Emma Carter, orders our entire wedding procession to turn around and drive more than 12 miles back the way we've come—just to catch up with another wedding convoy. I am about to get out and demand an explanation when I overhear Emma talking to one of her bridesmaids, Lena Williams. "You drove more than 60 miles just to make it to Ryan's wedding," Lena says. "That's some serious dedication." Then she glances nervously in my direction. "And now you're making us turn around? Aren't you worried Nathan's going to be pissed?" Emma continues directing the drivers to turn the procession around. "Don't worry. He's waited ten years for me. No matter how angry he gets, he'll never actually call off the wedding. "If my family hadn't pressured me so much, I wouldn't have agreed to marry him this easily. "Ryan's biggest wish has always been to marry me, and that's not going to happen now. So turning back to see him off for part of the journey is the least I can do. It's a small way of making up for all those years he spent chasing after me." When the matching wedding bands slip from my hand and disappear beneath the seat, I let out a bitter laugh. So much for finally getting our happy ending after all those years of hardship. Apparently, that is only wishful thinking on my part. I pull out my phone, open my messaging app, and send a woman my location. "Are you still planning to marry me? I'm waiting for you here. Come. Now."

Adam Locke made it his mission to control our marital finances. Every time I needed money, he subjected me to an interrogation. All I was allowed was 300 dollars a month, no more, no less. "Asking for money again?" Adam asked, shoving his ledger in my face. "You've already reached your withdrawal limit for this month!" I stared at the ledger. That 300-dollar budget was supposed to cover our children's medical bills, our daily household expenses, and even the money Adam owed restaurants or colleagues whenever he got drunk at one of his "business events." Not a single one of those expenses had been for me. Suddenly, his phone rang. He picked it up from the table, and his tone softened almost instantly. "Oh no. Did Zack get into another fight? How much do you need to settle it? I'll send you the money right away." "They said 15,000 dollars, or Zack's getting locked up at the station," replied his secretary, Yolanda Sharpe. Adam did not need to be asked twice. He hung up and immediately wired Yolanda the full amount so her little brother could stay out of trouble. It was as if Zack mattered more to him than his own wife did. I waited until he finished, then calmly said, "Mom was in a car accident. I need money for her medical bills. Please, anything would help." He tossed the ledger in front of me. "I told you, you've reached your withdrawal limit for this month!" he grumbled. "Can't she wait until next month to take care of whatever business she needs to handle?" This time, I did not argue or insist that he give me the money. I simply nodded and said, "Sure." Then I turned away from him and called my mother-in-law, who was lying on an operating table in the ER. "Sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but it seems your son has refused to pay to save your life."

My brand of teenage heroism meant charging straight into the line of fire for my childhood friend. When they made him stand in the hall, I stood beside him. When people spread rumors about him, I set the record straight. When a pack of thugs cornered him, I came in swinging. Jessica Garner, the girl who grew up next door to me, was always on my case about never looking out for myself. Still, she stood beside me in the hall. She guarded the door to the PA room for me. She carefully dabbed ointment on my cuts, one by one. Years later, Daniel Jonasson's fiancée cleaned him out. He lost both his money and the woman he loved. My heroism flared up again. Within half a month, I gathered the evidence, filed the lawsuit, and argued the case myself. I made her pay until she had nothing left. Jessica told me I pushed myself too hard, but she stayed by my side anyway. Then, on the eve of the wedding, a mutual friend called out of nowhere. He told me Daniel's ex had found out his new girlfriend was pregnant. She'd sent men after him, and he'd ended up in the ER. My mind went blank. Without thinking, I rushed into his hospital room. Then I looked up and found Jessica standing right beside his bed. Only then did I remember. I had always been the one asking her to look after Daniel. There was no time to say anything to her. I turned to him in a panic. "Are you okay? I already covered the hospital bill. I heard your girlfriend's pregnant. Was she shaken up? Where is she? Do I know her?" Daniel's expression turned awkward as he glanced at Jessica. My heart lurched. I followed his gaze. Jessica raised her head, her expression calm. "You do. It's me."

On the night before my wedding, the bridal party is too excited to sleep, so someone suggests a game of anonymous confessions. Everyone writes down one thing they want to say to me, the groom-to-be. I eagerly close my eyes, expecting heartfelt wishes and congratulations, but the first note stuns me. "You bastard. If you weren't forcing my sister to marry you, Lyle would be my brother-in-law!" Lyle Thomas is my best friend. Just three hours earlier, he called to apologize, saying a last-minute business trip had come up and he couldn't make it to the wedding. My hands tremble as I continue reading. "That watch she gave you as a wedding present is one Lyle turned down. He said it looked cheap, so she dumped it on you instead. The day your dad died, she was screwing Lyle in the apartment you shared. In fact, Lyle isn't missing your wedding because of work. He's too busy taking care of their baby." The moment I reach the final note, I recognize Alyssa James' handwriting. "You've already ruined this life for me, and I've come to terms with it. But if there's a next one, stay away from me." The sheer absurdity leaves me stunned at first. Once the shock fades, all I feel is bitter irony. I crumple the notes and toss them into the trash, along with the watch on my wrist. Then, I look up at Alyssa. "Since that's how you feel, let's turn tomorrow's wedding into a party for your new baby instead."

The eighth time I caught Oscar Stanton in a hotel suite, he silently picked up the fruit knife from the nightstand and slashed his wrist eleven times. “Satisfied now?” Blood ran between his fingers and dripped onto the carpet. He looked at me as though I were a madwoman who had driven him to kill himself. I stood frozen, the toy gun still clenched in my hand. For a moment, everything felt strangely unreal. After all, the last time things had gotten this bad, I had kicked his mistress into a crocodile enclosure and demanded that he never see her again. In retaliation, he had buried my mother’s ashes beneath a public restroom. He laughed and said, In retaliation, he had buried my mother’s ashes beneath a public restroom. But now, before he could even determine whether the gun in my hand was real, his face went pale and he pleaded, “Don’t hurt Cammie. She’s pregnant. She can’t handle this kind of shock. “Punish me however you want, but leave the baby out of it.” I froze and placed a hand over my own stomach. “What did you say?” Oscar’s chuckle was light as he closed his eyes. “I’m saying I give in. “Happy now? Isn’t this exactly what you wanted?” He had finally given in. But he was only doing it to protect another woman’s baby. The fear in his eyes for her made the baby inside me seem like nothing more than an unwanted accident. At that moment, every movement in my womb felt like a cruel joke. Suddenly, I didn’t want to keep losing myself to this madness anymore.

As the coaster climbed toward the top, I opened my eyes and reached over for my girlfriend's hand. What I saw was her fingers laced through my best friend's. Her thumb moved slowly across the back of his hand. A signal. Steady. I've got you. "Avery, I'm scared," I said quietly. She didn't answer me. She only held on to him tighter. Avery has a hearing impairment. Her left ear doesn't pick things up clearly. But every time the three of us went anywhere, she kept him on her right, tilting her head up to catch him, answering every single thing he said. I stood on her left, and it was like standing on the other side of a galaxy. The coaster started down again, and I closed my eyes, and my heart dropped with it. Avery, if somebody else is living at the very center of your heart, then so be it. It's time I took my own heart back and went looking for stars of my own.

After my wife, April Carter, gives birth to my child, I'm forced to quit my job and become a full-time stay-at-home dad. Before long, I spiral into severe depression. Countless times, I press a knife to my wrist, only for her to desperately throw her arms around me as I break down in hysterics. "Don't do this! Think about the baby and me! We're right here with you!" My brother, Lucas Getz, and my best buddy, Thomas Balfour, each grab a knife and press it against their own wrists. "If you want to die, we'll die with you," they declare. "Are two lives enough for you?" After that day, I fully commit to my treatment, determined not to let anyone else get hurt because of me. But just when I think I'm finally about to see the light, Lucas drags me to a wedding. Standing on the stage as newlyweds are none other than April and Thomas. My mind goes blank with a deafening buzz, and my blood runs cold. Lucas gazes up at the couple on stage with envy. "This wedding should have happened five years ago. But your depression has kept the two of them trapped in guilt." Then he turns toward me. "Do you understand now? The truth is, you're the one keeping us trapped in misery. It's time to let go."

Because my older sister, Zara Gomez, dreamed of becoming a psychologist, I became her favorite test subject simply because I had been highly sensitive since birth. She said children should not be given too much security, so my parents missed every important moment in my life for years. She said people at their lowest should not be coddled, so when I was critically injured in a car accident, they turned around and went on vacation to Coral Isle. Only Aaron Shaw ever stood up to them. He would tell me gently, "Cry if you need to. I'm here." Then came the wedding by the beach. I waited and waited, but he never showed. Holding up the hem of my wedding dress, I searched the beach anxiously all night. In the end, all I got was his latest update on social media. [Celebrating the successful completion of Zara's ten-year experiment.] A second later, he called me on video. When he saw my red eyes, he sounded almost delighted. "Zara said the training works best when the thing you're looking forward to most falls apart. Look at you. You didn't even cry this time." Zara held his arms with a shy look on her face. "Thanks to you serving as the control subject all these years, I've finally finished the last part of my project." I looked down at my bleeding feet, and I let the ocean wind dry the last of my tears. So… All the warmth I had treasured had only been part of Zara's control experiment. Now that the final experiment was over, it was also time for the test subject to quietly leave the stage.

Sam Cassidy and I have been married for three years. We lived in the poorer part of the city and ate canned food that was close to expiring, and I worked three jobs a day. I even had to consider for 30 minutes before deciding if I should buy a box of discounted strawberries. Sam was gentle and considerate, and I could not find any fault with him except that he was extremely broke. He was so broke that I had to take care of him financially when I could barely take care of myself. However, we had to live life positively, and an ordinary and busy life was the norm for ordinary people like us. This continued until I accidentally bumped into his phone, and the screen lit up. A chat group named 'The Fake Broke Challenge Committee' appeared on his phone screen. [I guess you're the reigning champion again, Sam.] [It's impressive that it has been three years and your lie hasn't been exposed.]

When I walked out of the funeral home, the Perfect Wife app my boyfriend, Ryan Keller, developed popped up with its 99th penalty notification. [Perfect Wife Score: -3. Reason: Too many calls.] I opened the app. Three years' worth of deductions filled the screen. I lost a point for asking him to pick me up from work in the pouring rain. Apparently, that made me too dependent. Three more disappeared after a fight because I refused to admit I was wrong. According to the app, that made me dishonest. Then there were the ten points I lost because I once asked Mom to pretend she was sick for me. Apparently, that meant she had raised me badly. I scrolled through the list without feeling much of anything until I reached the one name that had always mattered more than mine. Claire Snyder. Ryan's ex-girlfriend, who apparently couldn't handle anything on her own. A pipe burst in her apartment, so Ryan rushed over to fix it. Her neighborhood lost power at night, so she needed him to stay with her. Even today, when Claire's mom twisted her ankle during a dance class, Claire called Ryan to drive them to the hospital. Meanwhile, Mom suffered a sudden brain hemorrhage. I called Ryan 58 times. Every call went straight to a busy signal. By the time I stopped calling, Mom's hand had already gone cold. Not long after, she was wheeled out of the hospital and into the funeral home. I flexed my stiff fingers and tapped "No Objection" for the first time. Claire's cloying prerecorded voice immediately played through my phone. "Congratulations! Looks like you've finally learned how to be understanding. That puts your Perfect Wife Score at 60, which means you're officially eligible to get married! Better make it to the courthouse within three days, though, or you'll lose your chance!" I stared at the screen for a second, then deleted the app. Three days from now, I really was going to the courthouse to get married. Just not with Ryan.