Historias cortas de Plot Twists y novelas con Poor Student ambientadas en Marriage

In the month before my 20th birthday, Dad digs out the information on the oldest daughters of the four most prominent families in Jorvale and tells me to select one of them as my partner for our upcoming marriage alliance. I choose Grace Sutton without hesitation, which shocks everyone else. After all, everyone in Jorvale knows very well that Connor Foster, the sole heir of the Foster family, has always been crushing on Abigail Chandler since I was a kid. Only I know that I've gotten to marry Abigail in my previous life. But on the day after our grand wedding, Abigail told me that Louis Hayes, the low-income student Dad had been sponsoring, was the man she loved. She announced in public that she was only my wife in name, but she'd always be Louis' wife for real. But when Abigail tried to pick Louis up the next day, she found out that he had already disappeared after leaving a relationship-severance letter behind. Abigail was hell-bent on believing that I was the one who forced Louis to leave. Because of that, she treated me like her mortal enemy for the rest of her life. She went through a lover per week, and she'd always be intimate with them in front of me. All of those lovers resembled Louis one way or another. Finally, on the day Abigail officially took over Foster Group, I died in a car accident by "coincidence". Now that I've been reborn, I decide to marry another woman and avoid getting caught up in Abigail's affairs anymore. But once Abigail hears my decision, she goes absolutely berserk.

The day I was reborn, I came across that anonymous post again. “My sponsor is like a sister to me, but her husband gives me butterflies. “I know it’s wrong, but I can’t stop myself from feeling this way. Yesterday, we got down and dirty on the couch she bought.” Back in my past life, this very post broke me. In a fit of rage, I exposed their filthy secret to the world. The girl I once gave my heart and soul to help succumbed to cyberbullying and took her life by jumping off a building. After the funeral, my husband, Taylor Rogue, became a devoted and gentle man, only to lock me up in a mental institution the moment I put down my walls. “You should spend the rest of your life atoning for ruining Ivy!” With three years of pills and electric shock stripping away my sanity and dignity, I climbed to the roof and leaped. When I opened my eyes, I was back to the moment everything began.

The day I became the state's SATs valedictorian, my father, with his dyed blond hair, got so excited he put his food delivery helmet on crooked. He threw his arms around my mother, tears streaming down his face. "Honey! See that? I told you our genes were anything but ordinary! The curse's been lifted! Our son's gone and become the greatest of all time!" My mother, who had just dyed her hair purple, smacked her thigh as she shed tears of joy. "Bull! This is all because I quit the club scene for good and started selling grilled cheese sandwiches at the night market! God has seen my sincerity and rewarded us for it!" As I watched them celebrate like a pair of overgrown teenagers, I read the floating comments across my vision and had to blink away my tears. "You dummies, this has nothing to do with luck!" "You two swallowed so much bitterness just so your son could stand tall in public! Frankie over here got beaten and didn't dare fight back while Tanya pricked her fingers raw just to support his studies. You two sacrificed everything you had just so he could live well."

At the very bottom of my husband Raymond Hudson's safe, I dig out an old phone that doesn't even have a passcode. It takes only three seconds to turn on. Yet, those three seconds shatter my seven-year marriage into pieces. The lock screen wallpaper isn't our wedding photo. It's a candid shot of a young woman. She's seated at the piano, and her profile's soft and gentle. Raymond stands in the shadows. The tenderness and restraint in his eyes are so intense they could drown someone. It's a side of him I've never seen before. That young woman is Monica Melanie, a college student whom Raymond and I've been financially supporting for years. My hands and feet go numb as I tap on the memo on the phone. "2018: I married Linnea. She's obedient and suitable to be a wife. She pleases my family. However, why do I feel like I've fallen for the student we're financially supporting?" "2020: Moni's back, and we put all our cards on the table. It feels so good to know that our feelings are mutual! It breaks my heart to see her cry." "2023: Moni will be heartbroken if Linnea gets pregnant. In that case, I'll make sure we don't have a child." Raymond's phone slips from my hands. At long last, I understand why I've only ever gotten pregnant once in our seven years of marriage. I lost our baby, and after that, I never conceived again.

On our wedding night, Timothy Soloman tossed a pack of contraceptive pills at me once it was over. "Amanda, you can't get pregnant." My brows knitted together. "But there's nothing wrong with my body." He shook his head. "That's not why. "I have a son. He's already five. I married you, but I also promised her there wouldn't be a second child." I felt like I'd been dropped into an ice cellar, my whole body shaking without end. "Who is she? Why are you telling me this only now?" I asked. "The girl you used to sponsor, the one who couldn't afford her tuition. She's been clinging to me, and I can't shake her loose. "But don't worry. You're the only one in my heart. You will always be my lawfully wedded wife; no one else." The marks Timothy had left on my body were still there. I looked down at the glaring red streaks across my skin, and I almost wanted to laugh at how absurd it all was. "Timothy," I said. "Let's get a divorce."

Tristan Moore, the low-income student whom my wife, Yvonne Zeller, has been sponsoring, tells her that he wishes to repay her for her benevolence. So, they end up spending long hours of passion in my laboratory. Because of that, the fluids they've left behind have tainted my experimental samples. On top of that, Tristan specifically texts me and makes me witness everything. I waste no time in barging into the laboratory. "Oh? Are you that poor that you can't afford a hotel room anymore, Ms. Zeller? Is that why you brought your side piece to my lab?" Yvonne wraps her top around her chest, her expression devoid of any guilt. "Get out. I'm the one who has invested in this lab, so I'm free to use it however I see fit. A leech like you don't get a say in this matter." I turn on my heel and walk away. That night, I hand over my new patent to Yvonne's older brother, Joshua Zeller. I'd like to see how Yvonne, who's still in the middle of fighting for the position as the heir, will still be able to stay calm after finding out about this.

My husband, Henry Gibbons, is a man with a heart of gold. He has sponsored Felicity Lambert, an impoverished female college student who has come from the mountains, and yet I've never seen this person before. During the New Year holidays, Henry has traveled to the mountains to give Felicity some well-needed resources, but he ends up getting trapped there because of a blizzard. My heart aches for him, so I've shared the local news while praying for his quick return. But that's when I come across a video clip featuring a comic convention on the trending list. Henry, who claims that he's trapped in the mountains, can be seen wearing a cosplaying outfit. In the video, he's kneeling on the floor while helping a scantily-dressed young woman tie the bells to her ankles. The woman titters as she pats him on the head. "Thank you, Henry!" The caption of the video reads, "Daddy's love is the salvation meant for me and me only." I tap into the uploader's profile picture. The pinned post is a photo of the luxurious goods meant to be flaunted to the Internet. A pregnancy report sits next to those goods as well. "Daddy has told me that once that hag of a wife dies, these things will be mine!" In the comment section, Henry's smurf account has responded, "Be patient, my little minx. Her time will be up soon." At that moment, I find myself staring down at the New Year's dinner that I've just whipped up. Then, I dump everything into the trash can without hesitation.

I had funded Tilly Jenkins for five years—and spent those same five years chasing after her. Just when I thought I had finally won her heart—when I believed she was ready to spend her life with me—I discovered the truth: the one she had loved all along was her childhood sweetheart, the boy who had grown up by her side. I, on the other hand, to her, was nothing more than a privileged elite who used money to grind her pride into the dirt. A few years into our marriage, she secretly transferred my assets away—and even had a child with that childhood sweetheart of hers. In the end, I died filled with resentment, trapped in a raging fire. The flames reflected the sight of the three of them together, smiling like a perfect family, while I cried myself to death in despair. After I was reborn, Tilly's childhood sweetheart shoved me hard, sneering with open contempt. "What do you take us for? Toys for rich people like you?!" I slipped my bank card back into my pocket at once. "Sorry, having money doesn't mean I'm brain-dead. I'm not interested in trashy toys like that."

After completing my studies overseas, it's time for me to marry Cynthia Norton, my childhood sweetheart. But on the day I'm supposed to pick up the wedding tuxedo, I see my tuxedo, which is a custom-ordered suit that's worth a million dollars, being worn by Theodore Hasting, the low-income student Cynthia is currently sponsoring. When I demand that the tuxedo be returned, I get called the homewrecker instead. People even mock me for being a boy toy who wants to take the shortcut by clinging to a rich woman. Cynthia tells me Theodore has never experienced wearing a wedding tuxedo before, so she wants me to graciously give him the chance. I like doing charity work the most. Since I can give a million-dollar wedding tuxedo away, I should just give the marriage contract away too. Then again, not anyone can simply accept the marriage contract meant for me, the heir of the Emerson family.