Historias cortas de Melodramatic y novelas con Mistress ambientadas en Face Slapping

At the robotics competition, my daughter, Lily, was about to receive her award when a well-dressed man suddenly stood up from his seat. His name was Ryan Smith. "I remember your school has a rule. A donation of five hundred thousand dollars will earn a student an extra ten points in the year's competition. This card has five hundred thousand dollars on it, so first prize belongs to my son!" Everyone froze. The teacher hesitated for a moment, then nodded. Lily stood onstage, unsure what to do. "But I'm the real first-place winner!" Ryan's son, Jack Smith, gave her a scornful look. "It doesn't matter how hard you work, Lily Sanders. I have a rich mother, so the chance to train at a top laboratory can only be mine." Lily was so anxious that she was close to tears. I stepped forward, took her hand, and smiled at the father and son, who held their heads high with pride. I asked, "You said the card has five hundred thousand dollars on it. Why don't we verify that right now?" Ryan nodded proudly. "Of course. My wife has more money than she can spend. Run the card now." My smile deepened. The card he held was definitely an authorized supplementary card for my bank account. It was the card I had given my wife for her allowance!

In the chaotic aftermath of a devastating earthquake, I frantically tore through the rubble in search of my missing daughter. Amidst the panic, my phone rang. To my shock, it was my husband calling me from five years in the future. "Valerie, you have to listen to me carefully," Brent Serrano said. "I am the only one who can save the girl." Without a single shred of doubt, I directed the rescue team straight to the coordinates he detailed. Within minutes of digging, the faint, muffled cries of a child echoed from beneath the heavy concrete slabs. Overjoyed, I sobbed into the receiver, "Thank God, Brent! I found her!" On the other end of the line, Brent let out a soft, distant chuckle. "Good. I'm finally fixing my greatest regret." But when the rescue crew hoisted the massive wall of concrete, the one they pulled from the debris wasn't our daughter. It was Zoe—the daughter of his late best friend's widow, whom Brent had taken under his care. As I stood frozen in horror, he breathed a sigh of relief across the timeline. "In my timeline, Madelin was shattered when Zoe died in this disaster. She had no one left but me, and that was the night we finally crossed the line and fell into each other's arms. "I'm sorry, Valerie. I had to use this call to rewrite history for Madelin. Our daughter is trapped on the opposite side of the mall. Hurry, you can still save her." By the time I raced to the other end of the ruins, Brent's voice returned, brimming with smug pride. "See? Told you she'd be here." I lost my voice, staring down at Juliet's cold, lifeless body. Numb with a grief that swallowed the world, I hung up the phone.

It's the fifth year since I eloped with my boyfriend, Leonard Goodman, and he has gone bankrupt again. My father has tried his best to separate us. He has cut me off financially and left me to fend for myself. In the past five years, I've worked as a janitor and a street vendor. It has been an extremely rough time. But I'm doing all this to help Leonard start his business. I'm rooting for him to stabilize his income so that my father will give in and bless our marriage. However, throughout the past few years, all his attempts to start a business have ended in failure. This time, he's ten million dollars in debt. He looks at me with eyes full of remorse. "Rena, I'm so sorry for dragging you through five years of hardship without making you my wife." I shake my head and tell him it's okay and that I'm willing to go through everything with him. To help him pay off his debt, I secretly take on side jobs at a massage parlor without telling him. Today, I'm attending to a wealthy socialite. She earnestly instructs, "Make sure to watch your pressure during the massage. My body is naturally sensitive and delicate, so my skin bruises very easily. "My husband is a possessive man, and he only allows his marks to remain on my body. Last night, he couldn't control himself and left 108 hickeys on my body. He'll definitely be counting them later." When she finishes speaking, her phone on the table suddenly lights up. On her lock screen, the man holding her in a deep kiss is none other than my boyfriend of five years, Leonard himself.

After finishing my meal, I went to the cashier counter to settle the bill as usual. It took me longer than usual because the signal was poor. By the time I settled the bill, I could not find Corbin, my boyfriend, or Mabel, my best friend, anywhere inside or outside the restaurant. I called over a dozen times before they finally answered. “You were taking too long, so we just went ahead. “We’re at the Perler bead craft store on the second floor. Hurry up and get over here. The mall was packed and even more crowded than usual for the holiday. The elevator came twice, and both times it was full. So, I gave up and took the escalator instead. By the time I got to the store, every seat at the craft table was already taken. Corbin and Mabel were sitting together, talking about starting at Northbridge University this September and planning out the next ten years of their lives, from graduate school all the way to their doctorates. It was this grand plan for their future, and I had no place in it. They had already made plans to enroll in prestigious universities as early as May. I, however, failed my PSATs and was still considering repeating a year to catch up. Seeing me standing frozen at the door, Corbin said in a helpless tone, “You’re always so slow. Just wait outside for now.” I watched their backs, and a sudden exhaustion washed over me. “Corbin, I’m done chasing you.”

I'm Roxanne Parker, and I'm currently smashing fire hydrants in a mall while a crowd of onlookers live-streams my rampage online. In less than ten minutes, the news of what I've done skyrockets up the trending topics. The incident catches everyone off guard, and before anyone can intervene, I've already destroyed the fire hydrants on three entire floors within the span of an hour. Once I'm done, I head up to the mall's rooftop to clear my head. When the police surround me, people online and onlookers cheer loudly. I also let out a breath of relief. "You're finally here. I've been waiting for you for a long time." I'm only doing this because, in my previous life, I took the fall for my coworker, Jasmine Powell, and my boyfriend, Callum Fisher. Both of them reported me for stealing gold bars from the bank on the day I was on duty, landing me behind bars. I spent my entire life working myself to the bone, only to have the person closest to me stab me in the back. My parents, Robert Parker and Margot Spencer, had lived their entire lives as law-abiding citizens. Yet, in their twilight years, they were branded as the parents of a criminal, dying with their names dragged through the mud. When the news of their death reached me in prison, I cried until I went blind. The moment I was released, Jasmine and Callum ran me over with a car and took my life. When I open my eyes again, I'm back on the very day they accuse me of transferring the bank's gold bars. Since they're capable of fabricating evidence to frame me for theft, I'll create an alibi that will rock the entire city.

On the day of my pre-wedding photoshoot, the photographer compliments me, saying I look just like my sister, Jenna Shaw, when I smile. My fiance, Clifton Cooper, immediately asks Jenna to change into a white wedding dress as well, saying she might as well take a few photos for keepsakes. When selecting the photos, the whole family gathers around Jenna's set of pictures and praises them. My mother, Victoria Winn, says Jenna is naturally suited to wearing a wedding dress. My father, Reginald Shaw, says she looks more radiant and poised than me, the bride-to-be. Clifton stares at the screen for a long time, then points to the one where Jenna glances back over her shoulder. "Jenna looks great in this one. Let's put this one at the wedding welcome area." Only when I ask him where my photos will go does he finally seem to remember my existence. "Since you and Jenna look so much alike, the guests won't be able to tell the difference. Besides, Jenna isn't getting married, so it isn't easy for her to get a chance to wear a wedding dress." A laugh suddenly escapes me. Ever since we were little, it's never been easy for Jenna, so I'm supposed to give in to her. Not only do I have to give her whatever she wants, but I'm not allowed to have anything she doesn't have either. Even my wedding has to be about making her dream come true. I pull the only photo of Clifton and me together from the album. In the photo, I stand beside Clifton, smiling with all my might. But looking at it now, all I feel is that I'm looking at a stranger. It turns out spring is never late. It's just that I've been standing in someone else's shadow, waiting for it. Well, this time, I don't want to wait anymore.

I discover that my wife's stepbrother has secretly swapped the IVF sample I had stored at the hospital. But I pretend not to know and let my wife give birth to a son. I raise their child as if he's my own. Years later, I mold him into a business prodigy and even transfer all of my company's shares to him. At the company's celebration dinner, my wife's stepbrother suddenly produces a paternity test in front of everyone and says to me, "Jon is my biological son. Give him back to me." I smile calmly. "Take him then."

I, my best friend, and my girlfriend are in our fourth year at the same law firm. People jokingly call us "The Three Musketeers". When colleagues egg us on to play "Never Have I Ever", my best friend, Owen Steele, is the first to speak. "Never have I ever been Chelsea's best partner." I respond with a smile, "Never have I ever been her live-in boyfriend." Owen doesn't back down. "Never have I ever been driven to and from work by her." My smile freezes, and I fold one finger down. For four whole years, my girlfriend, Chelsea Moran, always uses different work schedules as an excuse to make me take the bus and the subway. Owen ignores my pale face and continues, "Never have I ever talked with Chelsea for eight hours a day. Never have I ever stayed up all night with her three times a week. Never have I ever bought the red lingerie she wears." The whole room erupts in laughter and then falls into an eerie silence. By now, I only have one finger left standing. Owen leans in close and suddenly smiles. "Never have I ever had her meet my parents instead of yours on Independence Day." My breath catches. I turn to look at Chelsea, who remains expressionless. No wonder she doesn't answer my calls and even breaks the industry taboo by turning off her phone for 24 hours. It turns out she is off meeting her new in-laws. My fingers are all down now, and I walk away right in front of Chelsea.

Being a war correspondent, I spend all my time searching for any trace of Damian Calloway. Through countless close brushes with death, only one thought keeps me going—I want to die by his side. Four years later, I receive a phone call from him. "Evelyn, Camille finally forgave you," Damian says, his voice coming through the receiver with jarring clarity. In the background, the peaceful, mundane sounds of life drift through the line, a stark contrast to the chaotic battlefield around me. I freeze. "What are you talking about?" Damian chuckles. "I left the military a long time ago. I've been back home with Camille this whole time. You made her cry before you left, and she has a temper. She wanted to teach you a lesson, but she's over it now, so you can come home and marry me." The wedding date we decided on is exactly one month away. It turns out that he has been keeping track of the dates the entire time, treating the danger I survive daily as if it's a joke. When I step into the terminal, his friends don't even bother hiding their smirks. "Look at her," one of them mutters. "She's a total simp. As if she could actually stay mad." "One phone call from Damian, and she drops everything to fly across the world—" Just then, everyone freezes. The smile vanishes from Damian's face as every eye locks onto the unfamiliar wedding ring on my finger.

My wife, Piper Carlson, yanked out my ventilator tube with her own hands. All because she believed the man who donated a kidney to save her was the guy she'd never gotten over. And me? The husband she'd hated for ten years? Just a liar who stole his credit. "Don't be scared, Elliot. The thief who stole your life finally got what he deserved." The second she pulled the tube, my body locked up. I couldn't breathe. Piper barely looked at me. She just held her "savior" close, relieved I was finally gone. Then, while I was dying, she hit me with one last secret. "Marco, wanna know why you could never get me pregnant again? I slipped something into every bottle of vitamins I gave you. You don't deserve my child." I was so furious I almost lost it. But Piper was already posting her marriage certificate with Elliot Lacy. [After everything we've been through, I finally got my happy ending with the man who saved me.] With the last bit of strength I had, I left one final comment. [Piper, how's my kidney treating you?] Then I opened my eyes. I was back ten years earlier, on the rainy night Elliot stole credit for saving her with my kidney.

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."

On our tenth anniversary, my husband's secure work phone buzzed. "Sorry, honey. Emergency callout." He looked so anxious that I did what I had always done and let him leave without complaint. One second later, my phone recommended a viral video with more than a million likes. Derek Foster's best friend, Mason Reed, raised his glass to the camera, drunk and grinning. "First toast to me. My buddy disappeared, so I stood in as the groom. "Second toast to me. He went on a date, and I told his wife he was at tactical training. "Third toast to me. He handed me his kid to raise, and I became a dad without doing any of the work." The comments exploded. Everyone praised Mason for creating the perfect comedy account. I couldn't laugh. Mason really was raising an eight-year-old boy alone. I called him. "Where are you?" His voice was thick with sleep, but he answered, "Out grabbing barbecue with Derek." I hung up, picked up my newest Birkin, and took a selfie in front of Derek's prized whiskey wall. Then I posted: "Trading in my husband. Thirty-six, seeking two eighteen-year-olds. Ambition optional. DMs open."

After I started dating Ryan Kellogg, I gave up the little rituals I had loved for twenty years. No birthday cakes. No fireworks on New Year's Eve. No more searching for the restaurant with the prettiest view on our anniversary. Ryan always said real life didn't need all that decorative nonsense. He only agreed to a modest engagement dinner because I insisted. But when he arrived that evening, he was wearing a perfectly tailored suit. Our friends and relatives looked at him with new respect. I was thrilled, convinced he was finally learning to meet me halfway. Then, on the drive home, I happened to see a post from Sophie Bennett, the younger graduate Ryan had been mentoring. In the photo, she stood beside him outside Bellhaven State University, wearing the heirloom brooch his late mother had meant for his future wife. Her caption read: My mentor said he never expected the first time he'd wear a full suit would be for my graduation. I scrolled farther. Ryan had sent Sophie flowers and a cake for her birthday. He'd even helped celebrate the adoption anniversary of her dog. I touched the empty place above my heart and felt something inside me turn cold. His romance was a privilege reserved for Sophie. Our engagement dinner had merely fit into his schedule. As we entered our apartment complex, Ryan tapped the steering wheel. "Han, I gave you the engagement dinner you wanted. Let's just do the courthouse ceremony next week and skip the wedding." I put away my phone and smiled. "All right." He was right about one thing. There was no reason for us to get married.

Andy Bennett had been my husband for ten years. And yeah, we were stupid in love. Lately, though, he'd gotten weirdly obsessed with some game on his phone. Every night, it buzzed nonstop. "It's new. The vibration setting is insanely relaxing." I bought it. I even got him blue-light glasses and wrist supports because he worked crazy hours and was always stressed. If a game helped him chill, fine by me. Then one night, he left his phone on the counter while he showered. It buzzed again. The screen lit up. No game. It was an app for a sex toy. A giant control wheel sat in the middle. [Remote Control] [Couple Mode] [Synchronized Vibration] Then a request popped up. [Invited by: Eunice Seaton.] My daughter's piano teacher.

After seven years of running a noodle shop near her university so I could support my girlfriend through graduate school, she finally earned her doctorate. It was her birthday. I closed the shop early to prepare a proposal, only to see her walk into the restaurant next door with a group of friends. Then my phone buzzed. "I have research tonight. I'll be home late, so go to bed without me." Something made me follow her inside. She was seated at the center of the group while everyone laughed and celebrated her birthday. I smiled and started toward her. Then the man beside my girlfriend stood, dropped to one knee, and held out a diamond ring. It was much larger than mine. "Nat, today is also our third anniversary. You've done so much for me over these three years, and I'm truly grateful. "You knew I had no money, so you quietly sent me eight hundred dollars every month. You knew I was proud, so you found me a part-time job instead of calling it charity. "My laptop, tablet, and every other device I own came from you. "Nat, I love you. Will you marry me?" Every drop of blood in my body seemed to freeze. I gave my girlfriend eight hundred dollars every month for living expenses. I had bought every one of her electronic devices, too, but each one somehow disappeared soon afterward. I had only smiled, told her it was fine, and bought another. When I learned that her classmate was struggling financially, I hired him at my shop without hesitation and paid him another eight hundred dollars a month. So that was the truth. All these years, I had not been supporting one graduate student. I had been supporting my girlfriend and her boyfriend.

After narrowly escaping death, I ran into the son I hadn't seen in years. He was taller now, and the cold disgust that used to fill his eyes was replaced by regret and desperate longing. He looked cautiously at me as he said, "Mom, I miss your home-cooked meals so much." I ignored him, haggling heatedly with a seller at the farmer's market. He bent down to pick up two onions that had dropped from my grocery bag. "If you were alive, why didn't you come back? Dad said the past is in the past. He forgives you." I let out an irritated click of my tongue, slapped two bills on the counter, and walked off. Suddenly, he yanked the hem of my shirt tightly. "Mom, are you abandoning us? Are you giving up on our family?" I didn't answer. Hearing him say "Mom" was utterly grating to my ears. The moment they chose to save that other woman and leave me during that shipwreck, every last shred of my feelings for them had vanished.

On my wedding day, the officiant had just asked me whether I would take this man as my husband. Then my fiancé's secretary shoved her way onto the stage, heavily pregnant, sobbing that her baby couldn't grow up without a father. The whole audience was in an uproar. Adrian grasped both of her hands, turned to look at me, and kept his voice mild. "Vivian, she's stood by me for five years. That has to count for something." "The baby's already seven months along. I can't let him come into this world without a name." "You'll remain Mrs. Locke and we can treat her as part of our family. The three of us will build a harmonious life together." I looked at the big backdrop screen behind him, emblazoned with both our names side by side, and I started to laugh. "Adrian, did you forget?" "For this wedding, the hotel is mine and the guests are all those I invited." "Even that tux you're wearing was paid for with the card I gave you." I pulled off my wedding veil and dropped it onto the floor at his feet. "You want to give her a name? Fine." "First, cough up every last cent you owe me."

Three days before the wedding, the Lawsons held a bride appraisal event for me. The full mark was 100, and I scored 89. Yves Lawson, my fiancé, sighed in front of the guests. "Rules are rules, Emilia. You scored less than 90. So, the wedding will be delayed by a year." My best friend, Wendy Shaw, stood right beside him, begging with tears in her eyes. "She's already great enough. Can’t she have another shot?" In my previous life, I thought they were actually defending me. So, I held back my dissatisfaction and waited for a year. Over that year, the Lawsons' estate project made money, Yves changed the prenup's terms, and Wendy eventually became the one to marry Yves. My eyes snapped open, and I was back to that appraisal event. I looked at the score on the screen, and I took the mic. "I accept the delay, but before that, I'd like to find out who graded me a one."

At my husband's book launch, the young woman beside me leaned in close. "Are you a fan of Professor Gyver too? I don't think I've seen you here before." Julian and I had kept our marriage private, so I shook my head. "I was just passing by. It sounded lively in here, so I came in to look." She noticed the white cane by my feet, and understood at once. Onstage, the host asked Julian where the book had come from. He looked toward my side of the room, and his voice went soft. "I promised the person I love that we'd watch a sunrise together. It never happened, for various reasons. So I wrote the regret into the book." When it ended, applause filled the hall. The girl beside me went bounding up and threw herself into his arms. "Professor! The book's out. When are you taking me to see that sunrise you promised?" My smile froze on my face. The sunrise was mine. It had always been Julian's promise to me. Julian ruffled her hair, helpless, let his eyes sweep past me from across the room, then took her hand and left. He didn't know I could see again. That was the only reason I'd come. To tell him that the sunrise we'd waited so long for was finally ours to watch. He'd always said the auditorium was too crowded, that he couldn't find me. So I'd wait alone until every light went out, then leave with my cane. He could find me. That was never the problem. He just wanted a different girl beside him when the lights were on him. I dropped the plane tickets I'd bought for him into the trash. The sunrise doesn't wait. Neither do I.

My best friend, Mandy Cooper, and my boyfriend, Logan Bennett, had been at each other's throats since freshman year of college. Years ago, a careless mistake of Mandy’s indirectly led to the death of Logan’s best friend. Ever since that day, Logan made it his life's mission to wreck every ounce of happiness she ever tried to build. The day he crashed her third attempt at a wedding, I had just gotten back from studying abroad. Right in the middle of the chaos and shouting, Logan’s eyes locked onto mine from across the crowded room. It was love at first sight. Now, five years into our relationship, he was still obsessively scheming to ruin Mandy’s ninth wedding. I’ve begged him to drop it a million times, but he always shuts me down with the same stone-cold answer—"She doesn't deserve to be happy." Mandy came to my place in tears, begging for help. She planned to sneak off and throw a low-key wedding out of the country, scheduling it for the exact day Logan was supposed to fly back from his business trip. She needed me to keep tabs on him at home. "Maya, please. This guy is a total catch. He's a college guy, hot enough to be an actor, and I’m going to marry him. You have to help me keep Logan off my back." I promised her I would. To stall Logan, I blew up his phone asking when his flight was landing, but I didn't get a single reply. Then I opened Instagram and scrolled past a photo from Mandy's wedding. Standing right beside her, caught in a grainy side-profile shot, was Logan. The truth hit me like a physical punch. Five years of love, and every second of it was a sick joke. Just as my chest tightened with a numb, hollow ache, the doorbell rang. I opened the door to find a ridiculously handsome guy standing on my doorstep, dressed in a sharp tuxedo. "Hey," he said, offering a casual smile, "I’m the rent-a-groom Ms. Cooper hired. I'm here for the gig." I stared at him, and suddenly, a quiet laugh bubbled up in my chest. If Logan could turn around and tie the knot with Mandy, why on earth should I turn down a fake husband dropped right on my doorstep?