Mga Maiikling Kuwento at Nobelang Mistress Plot Twists

My fiancee, Winona Ziegler, moves her childhood sweetheart, Caeden Gardner, who has just come back from abroad, into our future marital home. When ordering takeout, I add an eight-dollar omelette and a five-dollar caramelized onion soup to the order, but Winona deletes them all in disgust. "Caeden can't stand the smell of onions. Do you want to make him throw up? Can't you just have some plain water?" Moments later, she orders a seafood feast worth a thousand dollars for him, complete with king crabs and a premium seafood boil. Holding a glass of plain water, I watch her fuss over Caeden with endless concern. Then, my phone vibrates. My bank account has just been charged 1,000 dollars. She uses my money to spoil her childhood sweetheart, yet refuses to even buy me an omelette that costs eight dollars. Five years of love completely fall apart in that moment. This time, I don't argue or beg like I used to. I simply pick up my phone and press "Freeze Authorized User Card".

When it's almost time to get off work, Mason Lakeworth's coworkers drag him over to the window and point excitedly at a gorgeous woman downstairs. She's shown up outside their newspaper's building at exactly the same time for seven days in a row. "I did some digging! That's Lindsay Statham, the heiress of Heronvale's richest family. No wonder she drives a supercar with a custom vanity plate!" "And she looks good, too… Too bad she was set up and forced into getting married at a young age five years ago. I wonder which guy hit the jackpot and landed a woman like that." "But seriously, she's been coming to our crappy building for a full week. What is she even here for? Mason, you're always the last to leave. Have you seen who she's waiting for?" Mason stands off to the side in silence, saying nothing for a long time. His coworkers don't really expect him to answer anyway. They all start talking over each other, throwing out ideas. "Wait, Mason—you've been desperate for cash lately, right? Here's your golden ticket. Our new finance column is still short on a star interview. If you can land an exclusive with Lindsay Statham, the boss will definitely give you a huge bonus. You won't have to worry about your son's medical bills anymore!" Mason still doesn't respond. After a while, he withdraws his gaze from the window and finally speaks, his voice so calm it's almost numb. "My son died two weeks ago." He pauses, then adds, "And Lindsay… is my wife—the one I've been secretly married to for the past five years and the woman you're all so curious about."

Shawn Bryant had touch starvation, yet he never let me touch him so much as accidentally. We'd lived together for four years, and every night he fell asleep with his arms wrapped around a goose plush toy. "Holding it simulates an embrace," he told me once. "It gives me a sense of security. It calms my nerves." I curled into his arms and pouted. "Isn't holding me the same thing?" He gently pushed me away and rolled over to hug the goose instead. "Don't start. Bebe's soft. It's comfortable to hold." One time I threw the goose in the washing machine, and Shawn lost his temper completely. "What if it's ruined now?" I didn't think much of it. "So we'll buy another one." "You don't understand anything!" He didn't speak to me for days after that. While he was in the shower, I snuck a look at his phone, hoping to find where he'd bought Bebe so I could replace it and make peace. His screen was still open to a chat thread. Every message in it had an exclamation point beside it, marking it as unsent. Shawn: [Holding Bebe is like holding you.] Shawn: [I can't sleep at all without you.] Shawn: [Cynthia, when are you finally coming back?] The last message had been sent the day before. The exclamation point beside it was gone, and a reply sat underneath it, glaring up at me. Cynthia: [This time it was a hug. What about next time?] My mind went blank. I looked at the goose lying on the bed and suddenly found the whole thing pointless. Shawn, if you were never going to let anyone actually touch you, then I'm done trying to be the one.

The day Mom's 17th love letter is listed on eBay, Dad, who is usually calm and easygoing, completely loses his temper. He calls Mom three times in a row. "I just gave you ten thousand dollars for the last love letter. How have you already spent it all? "How many times do I have to repeat myself? Wendy just came back from ten years in the future. She's emotionally unstable. If something happens to her because of all this nonsense, I'm going to hold you accountable!" As Dad rages over the phone, I hold up my fingers and do the math. What is he talking about? The love letters are only 200 dollars each. Mom takes me out for hamburgers every time she gets the money. But this time, she's sleeping too soundly. No matter how hard I try, I just can't wake her up. "I'm hungry, Dad. Can you take me out for some hamburgers?" "Did your mom put you up to this?" Dad asks, sounding slightly exasperated. "She's doing everything she can to get my attention." A moment later, his voice softens. "Stella, can you show me your mother's love letters? If you do, I'll take you out for hamburgers."

After my wife was promoted to chief conductor, her work kept her so busy that I saw her only twice in three years. Each time, she came home in the middle of the night and left before dawn with her bag in hand. When my father‑in‑law fell seriously ill and urgently needed money, I wrote to her several times but never received a reply. I had no other choice, so I went to the train station to find her. I handed over our marriage certificate. The ticket clerk frowned and read the document three times before handing it back. "Sir, you are not listed as Chief Conductor Lewis' spouse in our system. Please do not cause any trouble." My heart skipped a beat. I thought something terrible had happened to Olivia. I bought a standing‑room ticket without hesitation and boarded the train, heading straight for the driver's cabin. Before I knocked, I heard her subordinates cheering inside. "Olivia, you really had it made! Hiring a caregiver for your father‑in‑law for three whole years must have cost a fortune!" My hand froze on the door. Shock covered my face. My parents had been dead for nearly ten years. Where did Olivia get a father‑in‑law? As I stood there in disbelief, a man in a ticket inspector's uniform brushed past me, pushed open the door, and pulled Olivia into his arms. Everyone in the cabin stood and joked, "Julian, you were late today!"

There's a running joke in my circle about the biggest doormats around, and I've topped that list for years. Turns out there's something even sadder than being a doormat: getting your wedding banquet canceled ten times by your fiancée. The first time, Melissa Ferguson had to stay behind and nurse her childhood friend, who'd taken a bad fall. The second time, her childhood friend was starting his first day of work, and Melissa couldn't stop worrying about him. ... The tenth time, her childhood friend got into it with a client at work, and Melissa tore off her veil and bolted out the door without a second thought. The wedding guests openly mocked me and turned the whole thing into a joke again. But I'd already made a decision. I'd go after my own goals from now on. No more wedding. Melissa and I were done. She went her way, and I'd go mine. One day, I walked straight out to the car waiting outside and went to make something of my life.

I was 10 minutes late to my own housewarming party. When I finally walked in, Wren Halley, the college girl my boyfriend, Austin Blanchard, had been supporting, was already chatting with my relatives like she owned the place. My parents sat at the head of the table, both of them looking furious. Austin walked over to me, looking completely relaxed. "What took you so long? Wren's been handling the guests for you." Everyone in the room went quiet. Wren moved behind him, almost shyly. As she shifted, her sleeve slid up and revealed an emerald bracelet on her wrist. It was my grandmother's jade bangle. Wren looked down. "I'm sorry, Lily. I've never been somewhere this beautiful before. I just thought I could help." Austin quickly stepped between us. "She's never had a chance to experience this kind of life. Let her enjoy it for one night. You don't have to make everything a big deal." I looked from him to the bracelet on her wrist and chuckled. Apparently, Austin had forgotten something important. This penthouse with its sweeping view of Bellmere belonged to only one person, and that person was me.

George Matthews had a peculiar habit of arranging tasks according to his priority. I jokingly asked him, "The wedding is a huge thing. That's probably first on the list, huh?" But he merely replied, "I have something else to handle first." I never understood what could possibly be more important than our wedding. Not until I came down with appendicitis. George was sending me to the hospital when he suddenly made a sharp turn. He casually explained, "Kayley cut her hand. She faints at the sight of blood. I need to go get her." Kayley Greene was my best friend and his assistant. I was in so much pain that I could barely sit upright, yet George still left me alone in the car. Just then, his laptop beeped. I found a to-do folder on the screen. "Prioritize things Kayley asked for help with." "See the Northern Lights with Kayley in Ebrax." "Help pay off Kayley's debt." A whopping 208 tasks related to her. I scrolled all the way to the bottom. Only then did I finally see the word—wedding. So the thing that mattered most to me had always been last on his list. I moved the mouse. Then I deleted it. Since the wedding was not important, he could forget about it.

During the break, I went on a trip to Palmera with my fiancee, Serena Saunders. However, she booked not one, but two queen-bed rooms. She arranged for her male subordinate, Nathaniel Xavier, to stay in her room so she could take care of him more easily, while she stuck me in the other room with his dog, Jack. Standing in the hotel lobby, I canceled both of their return flight tickets before informing her that the wedding was called off. Serena looked incredulous as she asked, “Are you seriously throwing a fit over a room assignment? You know Nat is scared of the dark.” “Oh, is that so? Is that why you’re wearing matching pajamas with him and sharing a bed?” I retorted sarcastically. Nathaniel hugged his dog and teared up. “Rena, it’s my fault. My health issues are always such a burden. Charlie has every right to be upset. I’ll just go to sleep in the hallway.” Serena looked at him with sympathy and held his arm, saying, “Sleep in the hallway? No way! He’s the one who should leave. “Charlie, I paid for this whole trip. You don’t get to act entitled. What right do you have to be so picky? “If you don’t want to stay, pack your things and go back to your broke little hometown. Honestly, the only reason I even brought a country bumpkin like you along was to make Nat happy.” She knew this trip was supposed to be our pre-honeymoon trip. She also knew I would put up with just about anything to keep the peace. I had planned to hold on until the wedding day. But seeing their fingers tightly laced together made me nauseous. I truly did not want to marry her anymore.

I was an Ageless. Many years ago, because of nothing more than a single loaf of bread, I became indebted to Sheila Johnson in a way I could never escape. The only way to find my way home was to grant 100 of her wishes. Her very first wish was for me to become her lover. To repay that debt, I stayed by her side without ever asking for a name or a promise. I taught her what it meant to love, and I shared countless long nights with her until our lives became inseparable. For the next three years, every wish she made was astonishingly simple. She only wanted to see me smile a little more. Then, during the annual Winter Festival, she released hundreds of glowing lights into the night sky. They drifted ever higher, shimmering across the heavens like a river of fallen stars. As she watched the breathtaking display, she whispered her 96th wish. "May we never part from each other." Yet only a few days later, she ordered every trace of my existence at Johnson Manor erased before casting me out of the estate. As I stood alone in the middle of a raging snowstorm, I heard her casually speaking to her friends as though I had never mattered at all. "Whatever you do, don't let Keith find out that I once confessed my feelings to another man. "You all know Keith has always been the one I loved. If he hadn't been sent to the neighboring kingdom as a hostage when we were still children, I never would have needed someone else to take his place. "Now that the king of the neighboring kingdom is dead, I've already arranged for Keith to fake his death and return safely. This time, I'm going to marry him. I won't let myself have any regrets."

We were having a gathering before graduation. My girlfriend and best friend were getting congratulated by the whole class. They had gained guaranteed spots into the campus' top course's postgraduate program. I was sitting in a corner, staring at the Hertford University offer that would ensure I went straight to my doctorate. I hesitated on making a decision for three days just for my girlfriend. Howard Herbson, my best friend, turned to me. He had a look of pity and condescension in his eyes as he said, "How about your job hunt? Don't worry. Not getting into the postgrad program isn't the end of the world. The lab's requirements are ridiculous. "It's going to be near impossible for you to progress there even if you work yourself to the bone." Beatrice Shaw, my girlfriend, handed Howard a glass of water. Then, she chimed in matter-of-factly, "Yeah. Research just isn't for everyone. You should get a nine-to-five. When Howard and I are swamped with us, you can help us out and do our errands." They exchanged a smile and kept me out of their so-called intellectual circle. These two thought they were better than everyone else just because they got a spot in this campus' postgrad program. How droll. So, I went back to that offer and accepted it. These people were so vastly beneath me that it was really about time for me to stop playing their games at their level, especially when I was obviously not welcome.

For seven years, my girlfriend, Sienna Jacoby, struggled with emotional avoidance. She never initiated a conversation with me. Whether I discussed major or minor matters with her, she only replied with either [1: Yes] or [2: No]. Even when I showed her the medical record that confirmed my uremia diagnosis, she gave a curt response and turned to go to work. My best friend, Ethan Quinn, once advised me, "A woman like her is worse than an air conditioner. At least an air conditioner knows when to cool you down and when to warm you up. What is the point of being with someone like her?" I stroked the ring on my ring finger and smiled. "She is just sick and does not know how to express herself. She loves me." A month later, on my birthday, I arrived at the restaurant late and saw Sienna sitting next to Ethan. They leaned closely together. The woman who always acted cold toward me beamed as she carefully wiped the rain from my friend's forehead. Ethan wore Sienna's coat. I looked away and fixed my gaze on the text message I sent to her a few minutes earlier. Clint Button: [Sienna, it is raining heavily today. I did not bring an umbrella. Could you come and pick me up?] Sienna: [2: No] I stood still and realized that I was the sick one. I had been blind as a bat.

When I returned to the country over holiday to complete my child's citizenship paperwork, I had barely landed before three men blocked my path. There was my ex-boyfriend, Jace Walker, with whom I had been entangled for years. Adrian Hayes, my childhood friend who had been secretly in love with me. And finally, my stepbrother, Simon Lent. "Grace, we were in the wrong back then, but don't make things hard for Brooke this time you're back." "Whatever anger you have, just take it out on us. Brooke's a gentle soul. She won't be able to handle it if you go after her." "Come on. I'll take you back to the manor. Make do with it for now, alright? I've given your villa to Brooke." Every one of them stood on edge, as if they were facing a formidable enemy. They looked oh-so afraid that I might bully Brooke Lent, the girl I was switched with at birth. After all, everyone in our circle knew that they had poured all their guilt into doting on Brooke after I left the country in disgrace, spoiling her twice over. So, rumors spread like wildfire that I was here to get back at her due to my sudden return. I took off my sunglasses, finding the whole thing faintly amusing. "Sorry, but I'm in a hurry to get home to see my son. And as for the manor, I won't be staying there. If anything, I'll be staying at my husband's place." It had been five years since we last saw each other, and I had long since moved on while they were clearly still stuck in the past.

When my wife, Stephany Jones, cries into her pillow again in the middle of the night, I pretend to be sound asleep. Six months ago, the man she has never been able to forget, Chase Barker, gets divorced and returns from overseas. From that moment on, her eyes and her emotions are once again consumed by the love she can never quite let go of. She is a good wife and a good mother. Every asset we own is under my name, and she insists on handing over her entire paycheck for me to manage. All this time, she suppresses her feelings for Chase and never crosses the line that would betray our marriage. But this fragile restraint is shattered the day she secretly sells one of her kidneys behind my back to buy Chase a property. I hand over a divorce agreement, as well as half of our marital assets, to her and say, "There's no need to sell organs just to finance your true love. Half of our assets should be enough to cover your dating expenses."

Kyson Ellis, the young man sponsored by my wife, Lara Sterling, earned a near-perfect SAT score and was accepted into one of the country's most prestigious universities. As a reward, Lara granted him "Adult Privilege." At a business dinner, Lara had him sit in my seat while our clients toasted him. Smiling, she introduced him to our partners. "He just turned eighteen, so I'm letting him experience the adult world a little early. Turns out he's even more mature and gracious than Nolan Taylor, my husband." She even handed him access to our joint bank account, claiming it was to "teach him how adults manage money." When I merely glanced through the transaction history, she instinctively stepped in front of him and shot me a cold look. "He only bought ten Rolex watches. Kyson is learning how adults handle money. What's wrong with that? You weren't even this responsible with money back then." After a long day at the office, I came home to find Kyson wearing my silk pajamas, sprawled across the bed in our master bedroom, scrolling through his phone. Lara sat beside him, feeding him blueberries. She looked up at me and said matter-of-factly, "The guest room doesn't get enough light. It'll strain his eyes if he uses his phone in there. You can sleep in the guest room tonight. You're an adult. Don't pick on a kid." I stared into her eyes without saying a word. So this was how it worked. Whenever it suited her, Kyson was old enough to enjoy "Adult Privilege." And the moment it didn't, he was a child again.

I see a post on Facebook Marketplace that someone is offering a used baby stroller for free, but it's pick-up only. The villa address listed is in Oak Springs, a wealthy area across the city. I strap my son, Timmy Powell, securely into his baby carrier. Then, we travel two hours by bus and another half-hour on foot under the scorching sun before finally reaching the villa. I'm soaked in sweat by the time I arrive, and Timmy also starts crying loudly from the heat. I'm surprised to find out that the seller is also a stay-at-home dad, just like me, but he exudes a relaxed and wealthy air instead. He glances at my disheveled appearance and speaks in a tone laced with disdain and pity. "Did you come from East Bay? And you're planning to walk home like this? "My driver's about to send my wife to her company. They can give you a ride back. I'll just take it as doing charity for the poor." I thank him for the pleasant surprise and pull open the car door. However, the woman in the back seat gets out with a look of disgust on her face. "I'll sit in the front passenger seat instead," she says. I feel embarrassed at her statement. However, the moment our eyes meet, I freeze on the spot and stare at her. As it turns out, the woman is my wife, Janice Hyde, who works extremely long hours at the office every day. She also hasn't come home for Christmas for three consecutive years, claiming it's for triple pay.

In the seventh year of being a caretaker for my comatose wife, Gwen Anderson, I got a well-paid job request. [Accompany my wife for her pregnancy check. I’m paying ten thousand dollars for a half-day task.] When I arrived at the hospital, I saw Gwen, who was supposedly in a coma, smiling as she talked on the phone. “It’s just a check-up. It’s not my first time being pregnant anyway. Why do you have to hire someone to accompany me? “That’s right. I bought the mansion located in the south of the city. It’s only a few hundred million dollars. Just treat it as your birthday gift for this year! “Why are you bringing Zac up? If he didn’t fake his illness on the day you came back to the country, we wouldn’t have wasted a month! “I pretended to be in a coma for seven years so he would pay off my debt. That is the punishment he deserves.” I was stunned. To pay off the debt, I sold my assets, my company, and even my family heirloom. Just as I was about to step forward, Gwen said cruelly, “Alright, I’ll listen to you. I’m tired of pretending for so many years anyway.” The next second, my phone buzzed. It was a text. [Zac, I’ve woken up.]

While waiting for my next ride request, I pick up a father and his son. As they get into my car, rainwater drips onto the seats. The man, Cory Quick, hands me five 20-dollar bills. "This should cover the car wash." Before I can refuse, Cory has already stuffed the money into the crack between the seats. "You drivers have it tough these days. My wife gives me so much allowance every month, and I can't even spend it all. "She's swamped with work today. Otherwise, she would've picked me up earlier. Isn't that right, Joel?" Cory holds his son, Joel Quick, in his arms, like he's showing off a little. I force a polite smile as I watch them through the rearview mirror. "Your wife treats you really well." Cory shrugs. "She's alright, I guess. Actually, she has a boyfriend, but she's worried he's after her money. That's why she's pretending to be broke. I married her overseas. Oh, right. Her boyfriend is a rideshare driver too." I freeze for a moment. After all, I also have a girlfriend who's drowning in debt after going bankrupt. Before I can even respond, the man holds up his phone and shows it to me. "Look at that. She knows I'm still not home, and she's sent me money again." Beneath the string of zeroes is a voice message. Cory taps on it, and Hannah Judd's voice comes through the phone. "Honey, are you in the car yet? I bought us supper, and I'll be home soon." A chill runs through me, and my hands start trembling on the steering wheel. Just a moment ago, I got a message from Hannah too. "I have a business dinner, so I don't think I'll make it home tonight."

Ten years of marriage, and my wife always insisted she was asexual. She never once let me touch her. Then, during a visit to her parents—who had been pressing us about having a child—she suddenly started throwing up. She announced to everyone that the baby was mine, and told me flatly, "This child will be born as your son, whether you like it or not." So I smiled, encouraged her to keep the baby, and quietly signed the divorce papers.

It was my and my wife Camille’s ninth wedding anniversary. I had rushed home with a fertility specialist in tow, hoping to surprise her. However, when I pushed the front door open, the house was already full of laughter. I walked in, heart pounding, to find Camille holding a little boy by the hand. Her voice was soft and warm. "Today is Miles's first day of school celebration. I want nothing but the best for my baby." Camille heard me come in and turned around. She walked toward me, snatched a pot of hot soup off the table, and flung it straight at me. "How many times do I have to tell you? I'm married! I have a family! Stop trying to get me to have your kids, you freak!" I fought through the pain in my arm and grabbed her, desperate for an explanation. She wrenched free and slapped me hard across the face, then grabbed everything within reach and hurled it all at me. "If you don't get out of here, I'm calling the cops, you psycho!" Then she winked at me, took the boy by the hand, and walked over to the elderly couple nearby. "Mom, Dad, don't worry about him. He's nobody." I stood there, watching the happy family in front of me. I looked down and forced the ring off my finger, the one I had worn for nine years, and tossed the blood-streaked band at Camille. "Camille, deception always comes at a cost."