Cerita Pendek Tragic Love Romance & Novel Awakening

In the short time I'm away at the restroom, the waiter has already cleared half the dishes on the table. My girlfriend and best friend move to a two-seat table by the window, sitting across from each other, completely engrossed in conversation. Neither of them even notices that I've left and come back. "I'm flying to Portside City next week. This hotel has a rooftop pool. Are you in, Captain Clark?" Dylan Humphrey's voice is bright. "If you like it, then sure. It could be a nice getaway." I freeze. That is the same hotel I had shared in our group chat a month ago. Back then, Hayley Clark had replied with only three words, "Stop following trends." Bitterness rises in my throat. Suddenly, I'm reminded of our high school graduation night. The three of us stay up late talking about our futures. Hayley says she wants to become a pilot, and Dylan swears he will be the most handsome flight attendant in the sky. Then, they both turn to me, their eyes shining with expectation. I say, "Then, I'll be an air traffic controller. No matter how high you two fly, I'll be the one guiding you." Now, watching them sit across from each other, chatting and smiling, I suddenly feel disheartened. I don't want to keep waiting for them to land anymore. My control tower is shutting down.

The night my husband came home from another flight smelling of another woman's perfume, one question was taking over social media. "Where have all the homemaker over forty-seven gone? "If life as a homemaker is so wonderful, why doesn't anyone ever speak up about it?" My husband, an international airline captain with over a million followers, signed us up for a livestream. He wanted me to prove that homemaker hadn't vanished. According to him, they were simply loved, protected, and cherished by their husbands. He was certain I'd play along. After all, for 22 years, I'd been the perfect wife. Even when my swollen joints hurt so much I could barely hold a spatula, I still washed his uniforms and made sure dinner was waiting when he got home. Even when he walked through the door carrying another woman's perfume, I would only touch my wedding ring and tell myself the same lie. "He's just having a little fun. In the end, he'll always come back to me." On the day of the livestream, he smiled at the camera and told everyone how happy our marriage was. I was in the kitchen baking, carrying dish after dish to the table. Then the host asked me one simple question. "Would you want your daughter to grow up to be the homemaker as you?" My husband smiled and typed his answer onto the teleprompter for me to read. "Of course." I walked into the frame with the last dish in my hands. I looked straight into the camera. "No," I said. "I wouldn't."

On the day our couple channel hit thirty million followers, the milestone video was supposed to be my official debut on camera. I woke up at five in the morning to do my makeup and tried on a dozen different dresses. However, right before the cameras rolled, Julian stopped me. "Willow, let's have Evangeline do it instead. She's just more camera-ready. The fans will love her." Evangeline was my best friend. I stood frozen for a long time, but in the end, I simply nodded. From that day on, Julian and Evangeline played a romantic couple on screen for three years. I stood behind the lens, writing their scripts, setting up their lighting, and editing every single frame. I watched the comment section explode day after day. [They look so deeply in love! My favorite ship ever!] And I watched Julian hold Evangeline's hand with more and more ease. Until the night of our three-year anniversary stream, when the host asked them a question live on camera. "When was the exact moment you two felt the strongest spark for each other?" Julian and Evangeline smiled in perfect sync. "The very first day we shot together on camera." In an instant, the live stream chat erupted into wild cheers and screams. Sitting in the dark corner of the studio behind the control monitor, my heart sank. They had spent three years pretending to be in love, and I was the only fool who treated it like an act. As soon as the broadcast wrapped, I logged into the channel dashboard and revoked all my admin access. Then, I opened an email invitation for an overseas film project I had received two weeks ago and accepted it. From now on, I was done writing their love story.

Neil Waller had a strange way of handling every fight between us. He called it a reconciliation mystery box. Whenever we argued, he would block me for three days. Then, as if nothing had happened, a link would suddenly appear on my phone. His message usually went something like this: "Open it. If you get 'Better Luck Next Time,' leave me alone. If you get a reconciliation coupon, maybe I'll forgive you." For years, I played along. The punishments changed every time. Sometimes, I had to put up with another week of being ignored. Sometimes, Neil made me apologize in front of other people. Once, I opened the mystery box while he was having dinner with another woman, only for him to casually tell me we could talk after he was finished. The sixth time I finally drew a reconciliation coupon, Neil wrapped his arms around me and gave me that relaxed, self-assured smile I knew so well. "See, Gabriella? No matter how unlucky you are, you still come back to me in the end." At the time, I told myself his indifference was only an act. I believed that somewhere beneath his arrogance and careless attitude, Neil still loved me. Then I discovered the mystery box he had made for the new intern, Shelley Vaughn. Hers had only one outcome: Neil's unconditional favor, and her chance of getting it was one hundred percent. One day, Shelley accidentally knocked over my coffee. Before I could even react, Neil immediately went to comfort her. The coffee had spilled across the back of my hand, leaving my skin red and stinging, yet Neil frowned. "You're not a little girl anymore. Do you really need someone to comfort you over every small thing?" That night, another mystery box appeared on my phone. It was the seventh one. Neil had left a message underneath it. 'Open it. If you get the Reconciliation Coupon, come back.' I stared at those words for a long time. This time, I did something different. I never opened the box. I blocked Neil instead. On the seventh round, I finally stopped waiting for him to choose me. For once, I chose myself.

Moments after leading his team to win the Cup, my superstar hockey boyfriend, Grayson, announced an indefinite leave of absence on live TV. Twitter exploded instantly. The team's group chat was in absolute chaos. The captain sent a dozen furious voice memos, chewing Grayson out for treating the team's blood, sweat, and tears like a cheap joke just for some girl. Yet, in stark contrast to his teammates' blinding rage, Grayson's private PR team chat was celebrating. "Let's see how Blair, his glorified babysitter, cleans up this mess." "She spent ten years busting her ass for his career, and Grayson just drops it all for Cici. True devotion." A new junior assistant chimed in quietly: "But if he quits, don't we lose our jobs? I heard the captain just smashed a locker in rage..." Grayson's childhood friend and personal trainer sent a smirking emoji: "You're new. Blair is a top agent who's willingly played our nanny for a decade. No matter what Grayson does, she bails him out. She'll just go groveling to the sponsors and vets as usual." "Bet Blair is smashing her phone in a rage right now, hahaha." Amidst the rapid-fire texts, a voice memo suddenly popped up. It was Grayson's lazy, breathless voice. There was the sound of a party in the background: "Shut up, all of you. I'm busy. You guys are too loud." The group got even more riled up and started to egg Grayson on. "Cici adores you. Just kick Blair and her controlling vibe to the curb. She's thirty now anyway. Probably going deaf and blind in her old age." The chat erupted in laughter. I stared blankly at the screen. I logged directly into the agency's official Twitter account, typed up a statement, and hit send. "Our agency respects Grayson's decision to take an indefinite leave of absence. " "To compensate our brand partners, we are opening a dedicated refund portal today. We will unconditionally refund all prepaid endorsement and cancellation fees incurred during his leave."

While strolling around the mall, I bend down to tie my shoelaces. When I lift my head again, my boyfriend, Lucas Carter, and my best friend, Kimberly Wendell, are already over 30 feet away. Just as I am about to catch up with them, I notice that the spot that should've been mine is slowly vanishing as the two walk closer and closer. Eventually, they are shoulder to shoulder as they talk about topics that I can't join in on. It's as though a third person was never there. During our university years, Lucas and Kimberly were known as the the school’s most promising “twin stars”. This continued even after we graduated, with them becoming the youngest chief physicians at the hospital. Meanwhile, no matter how hard I work, I can only trail behind them as an ordinary nurse. Lucas is always patting my head, saying, "You're cute, even when you're a little slow sometimes." Then he turns around and works seamlessly with Kimberly to perform one complex surgery after another. As I stare at their backs, I suddenly feel utterly exhausted. I no longer want to continue down this road, forever chasing after Lucas.

At one in the morning, my husband Grayson's phone lit up. A message from Leah popped up on the screen: [I sprained my ankle during rehearsal. It hurts so bad I can't sleep. Can you come hold me?] Watching Grayson throw on his clothes, I leaned back against the headboard and nearly laughed out loud. She was pouting in the middle of the night and making a married man drive halfway across Seattle to take care of her. For a twenty-two-year-old dance academy intern, she really wasn't very considerate. At least nowhere near as thoughtful as a certain sports science major I knew. That evening, Nolan had just gotten his professional motorcycle racing license and ridden his new bike across the bay to deliver the silver-gray heels I needed for tomorrow's board meeting right to my office building. Before he left, he'd pinned me between the car door and his chest in the parking garage and kissed me until my knees went weak.

Rhys Lockhart, a brash and unruly trust-fund heir, comes back home from abroad and discovers he's already been married off without his consent. His bride is Elara Waverly, the head of Waverly Corp, and a full eight years older than him. Rhys naturally wants no part of it. So, when he hears she's the disciplined, immaculate type with a serious thing about cleanliness, he makes a point of it. He shows up in ripped streetwear and a backward baseball cap, a row of silver studs lining his ear. His parents turn red with embarrassment and move to apologize, but Elara simply leans forward with quiet composure, her slender fingers gently steadying them. Her voice is cool and clear. "This arrangement already asks too much of Mr. Lockhart. If anyone should be apologizing, it's me." Rhys freezes, and he slowly lifts his head. Beneath the cool detachment in her gaze, her amber eyes are filled with warmth.

My mom's dying of cancer, and her final wish is to see me settle down and start a family. I beg my girlfriend, Yvonne Hurst, and my childhood friend, Colin Lowell, to help me put on this act for Mom. After asking them 88 times, they finally agree to play along and help me fulfill her last wish. On the day of the wedding, Mom clings to the last of her strength, waiting until the very end for the bride and best man to arrive. But they never do. Instead, Colin posts a photo online. Yvonne's in her wedding dress, and Colin is dressed as the best man. The two of them stand beside a cake, beaming at the camera. "My best friend's getting married, and the bride went all the way across town to pick up a cake with me," his caption reads. A guy couldn't ask for a better girlfriend. He's one lucky man." The location tag leads to a popular bakery known for its cakes. I call Yvonne and demand to know what is going on. "Isn't this all supposed to be about fulfilling your mom's dying wish?" she asked, sounding casual, almost dismissive. "I thought I'd spend some time with Colin and help him relax. It'll make our performance more convincing later." Colin leans over and laughs. "Yeah, Nathan. We're just messing with you. We'll be back soon," he assures me. "Tell Ms. Brooks to wait a little longer." Only then do I understand that my desperate pleas and Mom's dying wish mean nothing to them. To them, it is all just a harmless joke. I stare at the heart monitor as its beeping flattens into one long, unbroken tone, tears blurring my vision. When this absurd little act finally comes to an end, I'm the only one left to bear the consequences. From this moment on, I'm going to let them go. And finally, I'll let myself move on.

On the day we take our graduation photos, the class decides to split into groups. The moment I stand beside my girlfriend, Susie Langdon, someone calls out, "Put Paul next to Susie!" Another girl echoes, "Yeah, the hottest guy and the prettiest girl in our department should stand together!" Before I can react, my childhood friend, Joanna Boyle, grabs my arm and switches our places. "Zach, switch with Paul. It's just a graduation photo. Don't be so petty." Susie smiles and doesn't object. She simply steps aside to make room for Paul Ramos. I stand there frozen, instinctively touching the ring on my finger. It is the first gift Susie ever gives me. I've wanted to wear it for the most important photo of us. Right before the shutter clicks, Susie suddenly calls out, "Zach." My stomach tightens. She reaches over and slips the ring off my finger. "Paul's hand looks too bare. Let him wear it for the picture." The crowd starts teasing them again. Paul just smiles, and Susie doesn't even offer a word of explanation. The photographer shouts, "Say, 'Happy Graduation!'" As everyone yells in unison, I stand at the far edge of the group. At that moment, I finally understand how unimportant I am to Susie. If I don't deserve to stand next to her, then she has no place in my future either.

My best friend and my girlfriend's graduation trip vlog blew up online, racking up millions of likes. The comments were full of people swooning over their picture-perfect love story. Someone finally asked who the guy sitting quietly in the corner was. Suzanna Jones replied to the comment: [Just some random guy. I don't know him.] When I sent her a screenshot, she explained impatiently. "You stutter when you talk. Putting you on camera would only make you look ridiculous. "Elliot and I are only pretending to be a couple so he can make enough money to pay for his mom's medical treatment, so stop getting jealous over nothing." For the past year, I had practiced speaking to my phone every single day, all for the relationship-announcement video she had promised we would make. Now, I could finally speak without stuttering. However, she did not know that, because she had not been patient enough to listen to me in a long time. Just like now. Before I could say a word, she turned and walked away, hand in hand with Elliot Walker, stepping straight back into her camera frame. During their seven-day trip, Elliot filmed thirty-two videos. She appeared in every single one. She patiently listened to him ramble about anything and everything, never letting a single thing he said go unanswered. The last part of my heart that had been fighting to hold on finally went quiet. I lowered my head and deleted the relationship-announcement I had practiced hundreds of times. If I was nothing more than a background extra in her world, then so be it. She would not have a part in the of my life anymore.

My girlfriend, Tasha, was a hopeless romantic, hooked on using a breakup to test how much I love her. The first time, she threatened to kill herself when I was in the middle of defending my thesis. She pushed me to turn down a six-figure job offer, so I’d spend the day at the beach with her. Later, Tasha told me, “I just wanted to know whether your job or I meant more to you.” The second time, she showed up at my father’s funeral, arm in arm with her guy best friend, Jesse. She demanded a public apology, all because I didn’t answer her call the day before. “I was only testing your emotional stability. Why are you so upset?” The third time came in the fifth year of us dating. She rented a massive screen downtown and broadcast a video of her kissing Jesse. Tasha made a post on her social media. “If he hikes to the top of Mount Rainier and proposes to me, I’ll forgive him.” Her friend group was already betting on the hours it would take me to reach the summit in tears. Too bad they were all wrong. I was done proving myself in Tasha’s so-called tests of love.

My parents died when I was young, so I grew up by my aunt’s side. What she did not know was that I had been secretly dating her best friend, Yvette, for three years. One night, after Yvette had too much to drink, she looked at me with her hazy eyes. “You should be with someone closer to your own age. How about I find someone for you?” I looked at her deeply and nodded. “Sure.” In my previous life, I refused. I even bravely proclaimed to the entire world that I loved her. Under pressure from her family, Yvette had no choice but to marry me. However, after we were married, she became almost completely indifferent toward me. Even on the day I underwent a heart transplant, Yvette was off sandboarding with the man she had always loved. A love that was forced would never have a happy ending.

I agreed to leave the firm with Adrian Cross, my childhood friend, after he claimed he was being bullied out of his job. But the day before we were supposed to resign, he changed his mind for Mia Foster, a new intern. One of his colleagues laughed. “Impressive. You pretended to be bullied at work for months just to trick Evelyn into leaving.” “But you two grew up together. You’re really going to send her to a new firm alone?” Adrian rolled the bourbon around his glass. “She’ll still be working in the same city. How far away can she possibly go?” “Besides, isn’t she always saying she’s independent and the department can’t function without her? This works out perfectly.” I stood outside the office for a long time that day. In the end, I turned around and walked away. I withdrew my application from the firm we had planned to join together. Instead, I accepted the offer my parents had arranged for me at Bennett Global’s London headquarters. Everyone had forgotten one thing. Adrian was the one who begged me to stay.