Poor Student Short Stories & Novels

My mother had been hospitalized. My boyfriend worked as a doctor at the same hospital. You would think he would have visited her often, but he never did. Not once. On the first day of her stay, he did not come because he had taken a day off. His childhood friend was moving, and she needed his help. On the second day, that same childhood friend appeared at the hospital as an intern. He followed her everywhere and showed her the ropes. He handled anything she asked for, no matter how small. It went on like that, day after day. My mother's ward was on the thirteenth floor. His office was on the seventeenth. All it would have taken was a ten-second elevator ride or a two-minute walk down the stairs. Even so, Sebastian did not visit her for more than twenty days. My mother recovered. I picked her up by myself and took her to the train station. While I was on the way, he texted me. Sebastian: [Suzy's pet dog is getting vaccinated today. I need to drive her there first.] This time, I replied. [Got it. Drive safely. By the way, we're over.]

I'm the heir of the York family in Yarrowdale. My parents request that I choose either June Langley, my female bodyguard or Jasmine Turner, the low-income student that my family has been sponsoring as my wife. I had had a crush on Jasmine for a long time. On the day I was supposed to draw lots, I tampered with the box and chose her as my wife. But after we got married, Jasmine plotted to let the butler's son, Marcus Lockwood, take my place as the new heir. Just like that, I fell from grace and became the impostor that everyone looked down on. Then, I was cast out of my own home. Jasmine then introduced Marcus and their illegitimate child into the York family. Her actions gave my parents heart attacks, leading to their deaths. Before my death, I witnessed Jasmine gifting the Yorks' shares to Marcus. She even shattered my parents' urns just to appease him. "Tristan, you had spent your life in luxury. Now, it's Marcus' turn." When I open my eyes again, I've returned to the day I'm meant to choose my wife by drawing lots. This time, I've changed the names on both lots to June Langley, my loyal bodyguard.

Ten years after graduation, I funded a scholarship for underprivileged students at my alma mater. During the ceremony's interview segment, one of the scholarship recipients suddenly grabbed the microphone. "That night at the karaoke bar, you forced yourself on me! Aren't you going to take responsibility?" Her words cut through the room, and every student and faculty member turned to look at me. In an instant, I was branded a rapist. The company's stock fell immediately in response. Amid the chaos, I simply stared at the girl in front of me. Had students really become so ruthless just to get what they wanted? Only a few days ago, I had helped her fend off a gang of troublemakers, so how could she turn around and spread lies about me then? Besides, I was a woman. What could I possibly have done to her?

Oliver took a job with the city's top hockey team to find out who murdered his father. He did not plan to sleep with Alexander Whitman. Alexander is the famous hockey captain. He is huge, cold, and strictly closeted. Their secret one-night stand changes everything. Alexander's touch is hot, rough, and totally addictive. But Alexander is hiding a dark secret. His real name is Alexander Montgomery. He is the billionaire heir to the exact family that killed Oliver's dad. When Oliver finds out the ugly truth, he runs. But the Ice King will not let him go. "I will give you my money, my fame, my whole life," Alexander whispers, pressing his hard chest against Oliver. "But I will never give you your freedom."

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.

My fiancé had a thing for girls who were tiny, pale, and fragile-looking. A month before our wedding, he demanded that I slim down to 80 pounds. So, I starved myself, counted every calorie, and spent my days at the gym. Alas, the harder I tried to lose weight, the heavier I got. … Meanwhile, the girl I'd been supporting stuffed herself with burgers, milkshakes, and late-night takeout every day. Yet, she kept getting thinner. On our wedding day, my fiancé became disgusted the second he laid eyes on me and promptly decided that I was too fat to be his bride. Then, he dumped me and replaced me with the scholarship girl right there at the altar. Not long after, the rapid weight gain wrecked my health. One complication led to another. As I lay on my deathbed, she finally came to gloat. "You idiot," she cooed at me mockingly. "I linked you to a weight-swap system. It doesn't matter how hard you diet because the weight loss always goes to me." Then, everything went black. … When I opened my eyes again, I had returned to the time before the wedding. As my eyes focused, I saw the same girl standing in front of me, nagging me to lose weight. I smiled, but scoffed internally. 'If you want to be skinny that badly, fine. However, I'll make sure you end up weighing five pounds this time around, ashes and all.'

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.

On my wife's birthday, she brought home the poor male student she had been sponsoring and invited him to celebrate with us. Then he turned around and threw the million-dollar necklace I had bought for her straight into the trash. “What even is this? A necklace this outdated should’ve been retired ages ago. Who picked it, some old-fashioned fossil?” For a moment, every friend and relative in the room stared in stunned silence. My wife, however, looked completely unfazed. Instead, she praised him for having a fresh eye and slipped on the cheap ring he had bought from a street stall. I watched it all without yelling, without making a scene. Then I picked up our marriage certificate and tossed it into the trash as well. “Good point. I guess an outdated husband like me should be retired too. Congratulations on your new marriage.”

After returning home from abroad, I took a job as a driver to broaden my horizons. However, I got hired to drive a car with my dad’s car plate, and the location I was sent to was the city’s largest nightclub. I was suspicious about the location where I would pick up the car and the client. When I arrived, I found a bunch of people buttering up the poor student my family used to sponsor. “Have you had fun today, Mr. Morgan?” they asked. “If you’re unhappy with the ladies tonight, we’ll make sure there are better ones tomorrow night!” It was only when he called me that I realized he was my client. I went and questioned him about why he was driving my dad’s car, but he kicked me to the ground. “How dare a mere driver try to scam me? Get down on your knees and kiss my feet!” Then, he ordered his bodyguards to hold me down. They made me do as he asked. He went so far as to press cigarettes into my face, burning me. I withstood the pain and sent a photo of my dad’s car to my family’s group chat. [Dad, why are you going to Dreamscape behind Mom’s back and hiring girls for a night out?]

After my girlfriend of seven years checked in from the foreign third-world country, Bayndemar, she suddenly vanished without a trace. That same night, I received a video from her phone. In the footage, a man wielding an electric baton sneered at the camera. "Bring five million dollars to the compound if you want her back alive." Beside him, my girlfriend's clothes were torn, her body covered in blood. Trembling, she begged through tears, "Ryan! Save me! They promised they'd let me go once the money's paid!" Without hesitation, I went alone. But the moment I landed, I was drugged into unconsciousness. In the end, I was tortured to death. Meanwhile, my girlfriend returned home with one-third of the ransom money and married the student my family had sponsored. When I opened my eyes again, I had returned to the very day she disappeared.

After transmigrating through three novels in a row, the hardest thing I ever suffer through is drinking iced long black. But when I open my eyes again, I somehow become the pathetic simp side character in a trashy romance novel. Just as I debate whether to file a complaint against the system, the trembling system hurriedly explains something to me. Although this is a trashy romance novel, it is also an unfinished abandoned novel. I ask, "So you're saying I decide how the story develops?" The system replied, "Yes. Everything is completely under your control." Satisfied, I lazily stretch and begin checking the original Jacob's background. He has a trillionaire father and a billionaire mother. On top of that, he has seven rich and beautiful older sisters. With such a ridiculously overpowered setup, how can he go around simping for a broke college girl with no money? What a complete waste!

Right after I got pregnant by accident, all three of my friends-with-benefits coworkers dumped me. "You're just a girl from an ordinary family. My parents would never accept you. Stop clinging to me." "Babe, my first love is back in the country. I can't keep playing this game with you anymore. It's over." "Take your dirty money and get the hell out of my life!" I didn't tell any of them. I slipped away to Europe and had the baby in secret. But the moment I disappeared, all three of them lost it: [You heartless woman.] [Anna, pulling the vanishing act again? Playing hard to get much?] [Baby, forget about her. I don't want my childhood sweetheart anymore. Just come back, please?]

My fiancé of eight years moved in with the junior he was mentoring. She was young, pretty, knew how to play helpless, and knew exactly what she was doing. He'd down every toast meant for her—the same nights he let me get talked into drinking until I nearly died. He sat with her through her depression, fetched her water, fed her by hand. And me? I was alone in a hospital bed, burning with a 104-degree fever. He set her up on a pedestal and never noticed I'd been ground into the dirt. The day they discharged me, I didn't scream. I didn't fall apart. I went home, quietly packed a suitcase, and burned every memory that had his name on it. Later I heard the famous CEO of Washington Group showed up at his fiancée's door with millions of dollars in gifts. He found an empty apartment. And he lost his mind.

During my third year as president of Kingsfield University, I heard that a student I had sponsored had earned the top score on the state exam. On the eve of the SAT, I went to the university's affiliated high school to personally deliver Kingsfield University's only guaranteed-admission spot to him. The moment I reached the door of the senior-year Honors Class, the school belle, who was surrounded by admirers, walked up to me carrying a cup of coffee. Her eyes were red from crying. "You're the working-class girl who's been waiting for him outside the school gates every day lately, aren't you? He won't even look at the study notes I gave him, but he's willing to accept things from you. I'm starting to get jealous…" Before I could say a word, she suddenly grabbed my hand and violently tore apart the highly coveted recommendation form for Outstanding Graduate that she was holding. The document split cleanly in two. "H-How could you destroy my recommendation paperwork for Kingsfield University?" She dropped to the floor in the hallway, tears streaming down her face. Her voice was so loud that it drew teachers and students from the entire floor. "If you're worried that I'll get into the same university as him, then I'll give up my guaranteed admission. But how can someone like you, a girl who never even went to college, ruin my future?" The dean and the surrounding students quickly gathered around, pointing at me and looking at me with open contempt. I was flabbergasted. What did she just call me? A girl who never went to college? I was the youngest female president in Kingsfield University history! I was someone she wouldn't even dare look in the eye based on my achievements alone! When I was personally revising the nation's exam papers three years ago, this so-called recommendation form of hers hadn't even been printed yet. As I regarded this school belle, who continued playing the victim, I grabbed a thick test-prep book from the teacher's podium and slammed it right into her face. "A fool who can't even solve a parabola thinks she's worthy of a recommendation from Kingsfield University? If you dare smear my name again, I won't just ruin your future. I promise you I'll remove the principal from his job, too."

After my son finished his final exams, I ordered him a limited-edition supercar as a gift. But not long afterward, I came across a video of him riding an electric scooter and delivering takeout orders. I was deeply moved. I thought he was trying to learn how difficult life could be. Just as I was about to tell him not to overwork himself, I stumbled upon a post from a struggling student my wife was sponsoring. "Thank you for the gift. I'll work even harder from now on." Cyrus Young looked nothing like his usual modest self. He was dressed in a custom-tailored suit, wearing handmade leather shoes and a luxury dive watch as he posed beside my wife for a photo. And parked behind them was the limited-edition supercar I had carefully picked out for my son. A surge of anger rose in my chest. Unable to hold it back any longer, I called my wife. "Olivia Quinn, if this is the best you can do as my wife, then we're done. I'll find someone better."

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.

I sold my $3,500 top-spec laptop for scrap for seventy dollars. In my last life, my roommate Caleb's laptop crashed right before his senior thesis deadline. "Noah, the submission portal is about to close. Please lend me your laptop!" I agreed without hesitation. Then he forgot to save his work, downloaded malware by mistake, lost his entire thesis, and had to repeat the year. Afterward, his parents and relatives stormed the university, accusing me of sabotaging his laptop because I was jealous of his graduate admission slot. The story blew up online. Everyone called me a vicious, scheming college guy. My father tried to clear my name and was beaten to death by extremists who thought they were defending justice. Because of that stain, every job search collapsed. In the end, I jumped from a building in despair. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the eve of graduation defense. I had just sold the laptop cheap when Caleb came running in, covering his face and crying. "Noah, my laptop died. Lend me yours!" I kept playing on my phone without looking up. "If you're writing your thesis, go use the computer lab. Why come to me?"

I'm the ultimate soft touch. My dirt-poor roommate used to survive by digging through trash cans for food. Pity got the better of me, so I covered his tuition, his living expenses, and slipped him fifty dollars a day out of my own pocket. My only condition: he had to tag along whenever I went to my private tutoring sessions. I thought he was grateful for it. Then, junior year, he strutted into the classroom head to toe in designer labels and hurled fifty coins in my face in front of the whole class. "Fifty a day, and you treated me like your personal slave for three years—dragged me along to sit through lectures I couldn't even follow, humiliated me every step of the way! "Well, guess what? My real father just tracked me down. He's a billionaire, and he handed me a black card with no spending limit. Here's your fifty back. I'm done being your errand boy. "And I'll never turn into some arrogant jerk just because I've got a little money—unlike you!" Then he handed out luxury bags to everyone in the class except me. The whole room fell for it instantly, chanting, "Long live Elmer!" I stared at the forty-three purchase notifications that had just popped up on my phone and went quiet. I checked again. My black card—the one my father had given me—was gone. Everything clicked into place. The rich long-lost father? All fake. He'd simply stolen my black card, played dress-up as a billionaire's son, and stomped on me on his way up. Without a word, I made one phone call. And transferred the black card into his name. He'd clearly watched too many soap operas—he thought a black card was some kind of savings account. He had no idea it was just a credit card with a higher limit, and every cent he spent on it, he'd owe back.

My sister, Delilah Sorrell, and I are now in our third year of captivity after being trafficked into Northern Marovia. Her whereabouts are unknown—whether she is dead or alive, no one knows—while I am tortured until I am nothing but a living corpse. The rotting flesh on my body constantly gives off a stench, the old iron chains on my feet cut deep into my skin, and I even compete with pigs for food just to fill my stomach. I finally quit resisting after countless cries for help went unanswered. I become completely consumed by despair, with only one thought left in my mind—to die. Suddenly, I hear a fierce argument happening nearby, just as I swallow a handful of pills and wait for my life to fade away. "Bennett is your younger brother! You already ruined his bright future after the SAT just for the sake of an underprivileged student! Why are you still putting him through this torture?" Delilah, my missing sister, suddenly shows up, speaking in a rushed, irritated tone. "He knows perfectly well that I am always here to back him up and that his grades don't matter. He still deliberately went out of his way to beat Nathan's scores, triggering a relapse of Nathan's depression! "I'm merely punishing him to teach him some humility. I'll be bringing him home once Nathan graduates in a month, so this minor hardship means nothing." I finally realize the truth now. I have risked my life searching every inch of the compound and still can't find her. It turns out that from the very beginning, all of this is just her punishing me for the sake of Nathan Baker, that underprivileged student. I cough up a mouthful of blood as I laugh through my tears. "Your punishment for me is finally coming to an absolute end, Delilah. I won't be returning home with you ever again."

My family was the wealthiest in Brightwater, Bellweather. Yet my parents never stopped praising the scholarship student they sponsored. According to them, he was brilliant, disciplined, and a thousand times better than their own daughter. I refused to believe it. Using a fake name, I contacted him online, pretended to be a struggling student just like him, and flirted with him for months while searching for something I could use against him. Instead, I discovered that Elliot Pierce was almost painfully honest. Determined to expose the act I was sure he was putting on, I enrolled at Brightwater University through its competitive dance program. On move-in day, I pulled my sports car beside him and deliberately splashed muddy water across his shirt. I lowered my sunglasses and smiled at the mess. "I'm Sienna Wilde, the daughter of the people paying your scholarship. "And you're Elliot Pierce? You're not much to look at. I have no idea what my parents see in you." He calmly wiped the mud from his face, said nothing, and walked away. That night, my phone lit up with a message. Elliot: "Molly, I met the Wildes' daughter today. Compared with her, you're an angel."