Cerita Pendek Melodramatic & Novel Mistress Live Streaming

Just before I left for college, I stumbled across a livestream showing me three years in the future. I wore a wedding dress, and my eyes were red from crying. "I'm marrying Craig today." I smiled, assuming they were happy tears. Craig Eaton and I grew up together, and I wanted to marry him ever since I was six. "But I don't want to," she continued. "Craig was supposed to drive me to Halcyon University. Instead, he took me to the apartment I'd be sharing with Gwen. "He and Mom canceled my enrollment without telling me. They decided I'd take a gap year to help her study for the SAT and apply to colleges again." I froze, then angrily typed, [You're lying! Why would they do that to me?] She recognized my profile picture and smiled bitterly. "Because Craig fell for someone else, and Gwen is the daughter of Mom's first love." Then she stepped onto the ledge of the roof. "That first year, you shared an apartment with Gwen and spent your days cooking, doing her laundry, and organizing her study notes. She didn't get into any of the colleges she applied to, but you got into a top school. "Mom begged you to put college off for one more year to help Gwen. She said you owed her for raising you and promised she'd never ask for anything else. "The second year, you both got into other schools, but Gwen still wanted Halcyon. Craig said you'd stay another year if you really loved him, and he promised to marry you if you did. "The third year, Gwen finally got into Halcyon. By then, you spent so much time taking care of her that you missed your own application deadlines. She left for college, and you had nowhere to go." She looked into the camera one last time, as if she could see me. "That's how they ruined your life." Then she jumped, and the livestream went dark. My hands shook as I called the university's admissions office. They confirmed it. "That's right. Our records show we received a request to cancel your enrollment." Right then, I saw Craig and my mom walking toward me. "Diane, why haven't you started packing? We're taking you to college the day after tomorrow."

In the seventh year of our secret relationship, Alex Timbers became the hero pilot the whole country was talking about. His flight had run into extreme weather. Somehow, on nerve and skill alone, he'd brought the plane down safely. I watched the livestream the whole time, crying so hard I could barely stand. Then, ten minutes later, during an on-site interview at the airport, a three-year-old boy ducked under the barricade and threw himself into Alex's arms, sobbing and calling him Dad. Right behind him came my best friend, Natalie Wilde, her eyes red. In front of the entire country, Alex pulled them both into his arms. Before I could even process it, two more familiar faces appeared on screen. My mother, Susan Healey, hugged Natalie, her voice breaking. "It's over now, Natalie. Alex made it back alive. You and the boy finally have someone to lean on." My father, Dale Healey, clapped Alex on the shoulder, beaming. "Your family of three is whole again. Nothing beats that." In that instant, every drop of blood in my body ran cold. Over the past seven years, I'd had three miscarriages because of Alex. Each time, he'd held me and sworn, eyes red, "Mary, for your reputation, I can't let you have a child out of wedlock. Once I make captain, we'll get married." I laughed until the laughter turned into tears, blurring my vision. It wasn't just Alex. My parents had been standing with them the whole time. I'd been the only one left waiting, seven years, in a place no one could see. I typed out in the livestream's comment section: [Congratulations.]

In my third year as an online relationship-advice streamer, I finally saved up enough in viewer tips to cover my boyfriend's share of our wedding funds. I went live one last time, planning to announce that I was quitting streaming for good, when a young woman sent over a hundred thousand dollars' worth of gifts to request a live call with me. "My husband is just too perfect. There are always women trying to take my place. What do I do?" The chat burst out laughing at how dramatic she sounded. I was the only one quietly celebrating. With that kind of money, Gary Litt would never have to stress over our wedding funds, a car, or a house again. She ignored the skeptics in the chat and kept pouring out her troubles. "Yesterday, I found out some woman's been sending him money. And get this — it was 362.56 dollars! Down to the penny! "That's not even enough to cover one of my meals. You don't think some broke woman has her hooks in my husband, do you?" I froze. Just last night, I'd cashed out my tips and transferred money to Gary for our wedding fund. It was that exact amount. Just then, another voice cut in on her end. "Babe, are you imagining things again? Which one of your girlfriends are you badmouthing me to this time?" His teasing complaint was laced with affection. But I felt a chill creep through me, inch by inch. The "perfect" husband she was talking about and my boyfriend — who couldn't even scrape together anything for our wedding fund — were the same man.

I was just about to introduce my boyfriend to my parents when he suddenly vanished without a trace. Just as I was getting anxious, my phone popped up a notification for a couple's wedding livestream. [Looking back on that beautiful reception, it truly was the happiest moment of my life. To my amazing husband, Vincent, here's to the rest of our lives together.] [We promised we'd reveal our faces once we hit a million followers, and a promise is a promise!] On the screen, Vincent Dunn stood immaculate in a tailored tuxedo, tenderly sliding a diamond ring onto another woman's finger. Our mutual friends quickly flooded the comments. [Five years in the making! It's finally time you two tied the knot!] [Vincent's vows had me sobbing in my seat. They're total relationship goals!] Then my best friend made a grand declaration right in front of the camera, beaming with pride. "As Floriane's official relationship bodyguard, I can finally hand in my resignation!" As those familiar faces filled my screen, I felt as though all the air had been sucked out of my lungs. Vincent and I had been together for seven years, yet for five of those years, he'd been in love with someone else. My best friend knew, and so did our entire social circle. I was the only one left in the dark. Everyone but me had been given a place at that wedding.

On the seventh day after I was pronounced dead, my husband, William Garcia, turned me into an obedient AI wife. During a global live press conference, he hugged my holographic projection and said in a hoarse voice as though truly heartbroken that he had lost me, “Tiffany, don’t be scared. From now on, you’re accompanying me in another way.” The internet praised him for being the most devoted husband in the tech world. But no one knew that I actually wasn’t dead. My body was hidden in the third basement floor of Garcia Tech’s office building. I was hanging by a thread, kept alive only by an oxygen tube. My conscience had been connected to a Late Wife Companion System, and I was set to say “good morning,” “good night,” and “I love you” to him at fixed times every day. Backstage at the press conference, top celebrity Wanda Scott leaned into William’s embrace, with a sapphire ring that my mom had left me on her finger. She asked with a smile, “William, is Tiffany a lot more obedient now than she was before?” William bowed his head and kissed her. “Tiffany used to be too smart, too ambitious, and too unwilling to submit. “It’s just nice now.” Wanda asked again, “What will happen to her after I become Mrs. Garcia?” William chuckled. “I’ll switch her to housekeeper mode. “She’ll greet you by the title Madam every day, pick out your wedding gown for you, and read our children bedtime stories.” Suddenly, a technician rushed in, his face pale. “Mr. Garcia, AI Mrs. Garcia keeps repeating a phrase backstage.” William furrowed his brows. “What?” The technician’s voice trembled. “She keeps saying, ‘William, I’m still alive.’” William fell silent for two seconds, the look on his face growing cold. “Delete it. “Clear out her SOS module, anger module, and resistance module.” The camera was still live, and the entire internet heard him. At the next second, my holographic projection on the big screen suddenly lifted its head. I said to the thousands of viewers in the gentle voice he trained me to have, “William Garcia, what right do you have to expect a woman you murdered to still love you?”