Cerita Pendek Best Friend Romance & Novel Cheating

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.

My best friend's brother and I have been dating for half a year, and she has no clue. My best friend drags me out on Christmas for a singles' night out. Unexpectedly, we see her brother, Chris Lambert, holding hands and kissing a girl under the fireworks. "Damn, Chris finally got the school belle!" She looks thrilled and pulls me forward to say hi. Chris awkwardly rubs his nose and introduces me to his girlfriend, "This is my sister, and the one beside her is… sort of like my sister too." I smile silently. We have held hands and kissed, yet now, I am just sort of like his sister.

Six years into our long-distance relationship, I secretly went to Riverport to surprise my boyfriend for his birthday. At the top-rated bakery in town, I noticed the custom cake a girl beside me had picked up. Written across the top were the words, "To Dawson Reed, with love." My boyfriend's name was Dawson Reed. Noticing my lingering gaze, she struck up a conversation. "You're here to order a cake? Good choice. I come here every year for my boyfriend's birthday cake." Her friend teased her. "Boyfriend? He's going to be your fiance soon!" The girl blushed and playfully shoved her friend. "Stop it." Then she pulled up photos of the cakes she had ordered over the years. "These designs are all really cute. Take a look. Maybe you'll find one you like." In the photos, the girl was in the man's arms, the two of them smiling happily as they held the cake together. Turned out it was not a case of two men sharing the same name. Her fiance was indeed my boyfriend, Dawson Reed.

Before my engagement, a fire broke out in my dressing room. The explosion sent shards of glass deep into my body. My best friend, Monica Addams, shielded me as we escaped the flames.  At the hospital, she stayed by my side as I clung to life.  She called my fiancé, James Miller. However, his response was dismissive. “Veronica isn’t feeling well, and I’m accompanying her to get an IV drip. If it’s no big deal, just drop it.” Furious, Monica unleashed a string of curses and called her own boyfriend, Lucas Smith, asking him to help find a specialist.  He brushed her off, too. “Stop overreacting. Veronica’s sick, so I’m getting her some medicine.” When I narrowly escaped death and met Monica’s gaze, I said in a low voice, “I want to call off the engagement.” Without hesitation, she responded, “If you end yours, I’ll end mine.” That was when both men panicked. 

Before I turned fifteen, I lived like a weed. Cold, damp, barely surviving. Then I met Ethan Hayes and Summer Reed. The first home-cooked meal anyone ever made for me was made by Summer. The first dress I ever owned was bought by Summer. The first birthday anyone ever celebrated for me was something Summer planned down to the smallest detail. She would carefully put ointment on the chilblains covering my hands. And she would tell everyone, over and over, that I was her best friend. As for Ethan... He was the one who pulled me away from a group of laughing street punks. He was the one who kicked open a door and rushed me to the hospital when my fever reached 104 degrees. He was the one who broke my drunken stepfather's head open with a single punch, the night the man came at me again. The day he confessed his feelings, his hands were trembling and my heart was pounding so hard that tears filled my eyes. "I swear I'll protect you for the rest of my life." I often thought that in the bleak, gray life I had been given, meeting the two of them was the greatest luck I could ever have asked for. Until my twenty-third birthday. I heard Ethan shouting at Summer. "I can't control what I feel! I fell in love with you. So what? You feel the same way, don't you?" Summer looked into his red, tormented eyes. At last, she burst into tears and threw herself into his arms. "But... what about Mia?" Hidden around the corner, I smiled bitterly. What else was there to do? They were the two people I loved most in the world. I couldn't bear to make things harder for them. So I called my advisor and said calmly, "Can I apply for that twenty-year Antarctic research program?"

Three years into her marriage, Chloe James knew something was wrong. She had pain, itching, and occasional bleeding, symptoms she was too embarrassed to discuss. She finally made a secret appointment. Lying cold on the examination table, she flinched as the doctor looked inside. "You're so young to have an IUD," the doctor remarked casually. "Why did you decide not to have kids?" Chloe's mind went blank. Her nails bit into her palm. "IUD? Doctor, that's impossible. I had a miscarriage two years ago. I've been trying ever since. I've done six rounds of IVF. Why would I have an IUD?" The metal instrument pressed in. Chloe gasped, tears springing to her eyes. "It's no mistake," the doctor sighed. "The coil has grown into your uterine tissue. "If you'd waited much longer to come in, the damage could've been much worse." Chloe's heart plummeted. Two years ago, she ate a slice of almond cake handed to her by her husband, Michael James. Then, her severe allergic reaction triggered a miscarriage. Her best friend, Sarah Daniels, a top OB-GYN, slapped her husband, Michael, right in front of her. "How could you be so careless?" Sarah sobbed, clutching Chloe's hand. "Hang in there, Chloe! I'll do everything to save your baby!" Sarah even knelt by the bed afterward, weeping. "I couldn't save the baby... I'm so sorry, Chloe." Ever since that tragic night, Chloe had never been able to conceive again.

I accidentally stumbled upon numerous explicit videos on my husband's computer while tidying up his desk. The videos showed him in bed with my unmarried best friend. The relationship between my husband and me had been platonic ever since I gave birth 40 years ago. His reason was that he was no longer capable of physical intimacy. Now, it felt like my entire life had been a sham, despite all my efforts for my family.

At her engagement party, my best friend, Hannah Sawyer, caught her fiancé cheating. Ryan Carter didn't apologize. Instead, right there in front of everyone, he sneered, "Who else would ever want you besides me?" Hannah was crying so hard she could barely stand. Without thinking, I grabbed my boyfriend Yates Grant's hand and placed it in hers. "Who says nobody wants you? "Starting now, he's your boyfriend." Yates froze for a second. Then he went along with it, taking off his jacket and draping it around Hannah's shoulders before leading her out by the hand in full view of everyone. That night, the three of us sat together drinking and laughing about the whole thing. It was only supposed to be an act, just this once. But Ryan kept harassing Hannah afterward. So Yates continued playing her fake boyfriend. He picked her up from work, walked her home, and helped convince her parents that she'd moved on. I never once doubted either of them. Not until I came across a post online. [I borrowed my best friend's boyfriend to make my cheating ex jealous. Now I don't want to give him back. What do I do?] The poster said her best friend had personally offered up her boyfriend. Their first time holding hands had been fake. Their first hug had been fake. But the first night he spent at her place had been real. People in the comments tore into her for betraying the friend who had helped her. She replied: [He said that since he slept with me that night, he'd take responsibility for me.] I stared at the photo of the three of us sitting in our living room, my hands and feet turning ice-cold. I'd only lent her my boyfriend for one night so she could save face. They'd turned that one night into the rest of their lives.

I came across a trending post asking people to share the person they had failed. One of the comments caught my attention. 'It has to be my best friend. In my defense, her husband is exactly my type. From head to toe, he suits my taste perfectly. I fell for him at first sight when she introduced us. 'During the graduation party, I got them drunk and slept with him. Damn, she's a lucky b*tch to have him. Later, I told her I went abroad, but actually, I was preparing to give birth to my baby in another city. 'He always comes to visit us. We are a happy family of three. Technically, I'm not a homewrecker. We already have a real marriage certificate. All we're missing is the wedding. 'I think fighting for true love is something to be admired. A word of encouragement: don't let the spouse of the person you love be the reason you give up.' Attached below the comment was a photo of a man's and woman's fingers intertwined. I recognized the man immediately. It was my husband, Luke Minton. I knew from the small scar on his wrist.

For the 13th time, an AI-generated photo pops up on my feed, showing my best friend, Gwen Spalding, and my boyfriend, Andrew Gunnell, wrapped in each other's arms. Gwen's still a mess after getting dumped so suddenly, so I assume she's mixed Andrew up with someone else again. Then a comment stops me cold. "I was there. Joyce tried to brush it off before and claimed the picture was AI-generated, but let's see her deny this! Besides, look at them. A guy as hot as Andrew belongs with a knockout like Gwen. They look way better together." Attached to the comment is a candid photo of Gwen and Andrew wrapped in each other's arms, in the exact same pose as the picture on my feed. I screenshot the comment and send it straight to Andrew. Instead of explaining himself, he turns it around on me. "You know exactly why I didn't tell you. Gwen's in a really bad place right now. What am I supposed to do, stand back and watch her ruin her life? "The second I show her even a little kindness, you get jealous. Joyce, you really haven't changed at all." Before I can answer, he hangs up on me. I pull up Gwen's social media feed again, and this time, I notice what I missed before. Her first post is from the new restaurant I've told Andrew countless times I want to try with him. The second is from the movie we made plans to see a month ago. I keep scrolling. Everything I'd been looking forward to doing with Andrew, every plan he'd backed out of with one excuse after another, is right there in Gwen's photos. My vision blurs with tears. I reach into the trash, pull out the five-year exchange agreement for Caldria I tossed away moments ago, and sign my name. Once I'm gone, they won't have to lie to me anymore.

For our fifth wedding anniversary, my husband, Elliott Quinn, promises me a special gift. But when the day arrives, I walk in on him tangled in bed with my best friend, Lauren Langley. Hysterical, I confront him, but Elliott answers without a trace of shame. "On our wedding night, you were fast asleep. Your dad was the one who put Lauren in my bed. We've kept it from you for five years, and Lauren has had to put up with it all this time." Then he drops another bombshell. "And your last miscarriage wasn't an accident. Jack saw how heartbroken Lauren was, so he slipped abortion pills into your drink." Shaking with rage, I scream, "Why?" Elliott pulls Lauren behind him protectively and says offhandedly, "I got bored with you. Lauren is better than you in every way. She's gentle and considerate. Even Jack prefers her. She's put up with this for five years. You should count yourself lucky." Lauren darts out from behind Elliott and grabs my hand, refusing to let go. "Sienna, I'm not trying to take your place," she says anxiously. "You'll still be Mrs. Quinn. I'll just be part of the family too. Remember when you said you wanted us to stay together forever? Well, now you've got your wish." With that, she reaches out to hug me. Trembling violently, I shove her away. The next second, a pair of small hands shoves me to the floor. Searing pain tears through my abdomen, and blood won't stop pouring from between my legs. I look up to see my son, Jack Quinn, glaring at me with pure hatred. "You're the most evil mommy in the whole world! Why don't you just die?" In an instant, my vision blanks out, and my ears start ringing. As the life inside me slips away, my heart turns completely cold. I force my lips into a bitter smile. If they all think Lauren is so much better, I'll just step back and let her have the family.

Someone entered my room the night I stayed at my best friend's place. I struggled desperately, but he pinned my hands above my head. "It's been a month. Haven't you missed this?" His voice was low and clear, cool yet incredibly seductive. Before I could speak, he crushed his lips against mine. "Nora, I'm back." Just then, I heard my best friend, Emma Moore, outside the door. The man on top of me froze and lowered his voice. "Who are you?!" My voice trembled as I answered, "I'm Nora Sutton." "Damn it." He swore and quickly got off me.

Before our wedding, Cyrus Lane and I each folded fifty paper stars, wrote a wish inside every one, and filled a glass jar with all one hundred. We promised we wouldn't open it until our fifth anniversary. Today was that day. Cyrus said he had a meeting at work and that we'd celebrate later, but I couldn't wait. So I opened the jar by myself and started with my stars. "I hope we spend every anniversary together." "I hope I'll always come first in his heart." "I hope we grow old together." Smiling, I reached for one of his. The first read, "Remember to get her an almond latte every Wednesday afternoon." The second: "Remember, her stomach is sensitive. Don't order anything spicy when you eat together." The third: "Remember, she's afraid of thunder. Stay with her whenever there's a storm." I was allergic to almonds. I had never drunk almond lattes. I loved spicy food, and Cyrus had never once cared whether it upset my stomach. And in all five years of our marriage, whenever a thunderstorm rolled in, he always claimed something had come up at work and left me home alone. I kept unfolding the stars. By the time I'd opened all fifty, there wasn't a single one with my name on it. The almond lattes, the sensitive stomach, the fear of thunder. Every detail belonged to my best friend, Quinn Xavier. Then I heard a key turn in the lock. Cyrus walked in carrying a cake. "Happy fifth anniversary..." He stopped when he saw the table covered in unfolded notes. I looked up at him from where I sat amid the scattered paper. "Consider your wish granted. "Go be with her."

I worked as a waitress in a small-town diner, but I put my husband Tom through Harvard Law School. But after he graduated, when I was eight months pregnant, he divorced with me and married my best friend, Sarah. On their wedding day, I didn't cry or make a scene. Instead, I went to work as their housekeeper. Tom thought my love made me easy to control. Sarah treated me like dirt, thinking I was born to serve. I never complained – I just prepared a surprise for them. But when their daughter was admitted to Harvard, they opened the surprise and went crazy.

Maisie Stone has known Ethan Ford for 15 years. She's gone from being a young woman to a married one. She's also gone from being Ethan's true love to an old flame. He cheats on her repeatedly, and she forgives him every time. After a suicide attempt, Maisie finally sees the light. This rotten world is just a competition to see who can be more shameless than others. In an open relationship, both parties live their own lives. Since he's messing around with her sister, she can mess around with his friends and brothers.

My best friend, Susie Young, broke a bone while saving my boyfriend's mother. So my boyfriend, Josh Wagner, had to take care of her after work every day. At first, he still came home afterward. Later, he got tired of going back and forth, so he simply started staying at the hospital dorm. Whenever I asked about Susie's injuries, he always looked helpless. "It takes at least three months for an injury like that to heal. She's probably got a long way to go. If it weren't for repaying her for saving my mom, I wouldn't even bother taking care of her." When Susie heard that, she rolled her eyes. "You think I want you here? You can't even peel an apple properly." They acted so openly that it seemed like there was nothing going on between them. Then one day, my blood sugar dropped, and I accidentally fell down the stairs. My arm was dislocated in the fall. Drenched in cold sweat from the pain, I called Josh. He sounded helpless. "Susie has rehab today. I really can't get away. Take a cab to the ER yourself." I dragged myself to the hospital, my arm limp and weak. I stopped by Susie's room. When I pushed the door open, the room was empty. A nurse told me Susie had been discharged two weeks ago and was recovering at home. I stood frozen in the hallway, my hands and feet cold and numb. Then a post from Josh's mom popped up on my phone. "Josh is all grown up now. He finally brought his future wife home!" In the video, Susie and Josh were fooling around in matching aprons. They both saw the post and liked it at the same time. Neither of them offered an explanation.

For the ninth time, my best friend was left at the altar. And for the ninth time, my fiance was dragged in to play the part of her pretend groom. I was holding two cups of coffee. Before I could knock on the dressing room's door, I heard my best friend purring at someone. "You're the best, Anton. You knew this was an act, but you played along anyway." My breath caught. Through the half-open door, I stole a glance inside. My fiance, who had always been cold and unreadable, was looking at my best friend as if she were the most precious thing in his world. "Getting left at the altar must've traumatized you. If I don't help you get over it, Emilia's going to be worried even if she marries me." My best friend tugged lightly at the hem of his shirt. "But this is going to affect your relationship with her." "Not like it's the first time. She's still with me. We're still a couple." My fiance took out a diamond ring and held it against my best friend's finger. "We've been together for ten years. She has no other choice, anyway." The summer heat was scorching, yet part of me felt frozen solid. Slowly, I took my phone out and dialed a certain number. "Hey, I'd like to show you what I look like in that wedding gown."

Because the company had a strict no-dating policy, my boyfriend and I kept our relationship a secret for ten years. During those ten years, I stayed by his side through his lowest moments, took care of his parents, and even carried his child. Our tenth anniversary happened to fall on the same day as the company’s team-building event. The man had always hated public attention. Out of nowhere, he suddenly announced that he wanted to propose to the woman he loved. In an instant, everyone looked at me with surprise and envy. They all assumed I was the one. I was so touched that tears filled my eyes, when he held out a ring and got down on one knee before my best friend.

When I was ten years old, I suddenly gained the ability to see red threads connecting people’s heads. Only those who had actually slept together would be bound by this unavoidable red line. Over the years, two extra red threads popped up over my father’s head, driving my mother to threaten to file for divorce again and again. Because of this, loyalty became the single most important thing I looked for in a partner. In the end, I chose Jasper—a modest, reserved man whose head was completely clean. On the night before our wedding, my bridesmaids hosted a bachelorette party. We played a game where whoever lost had to hand over their phone for the rest of us to snoop through. When it was my maid of honor Jean’s turn, she clutched her phone tightly, her face flushing red as she bashfully giggled. “Don’t look at mine! He wore me out so late last night. Those photos are definitely not fit for public viewing.” Everyone teased her for keeping her relationship so secretive, since no one had ever met her boyfriend. I was just about to step in and smooth things over when I suddenly saw a bright red thread stretch straight out from the top of her head. It wove right through the crowd and anchored itself directly onto my fiancé, Jasper. Yet, when he dropped me off at home last night, his head had been entirely clean. In fact, just half an hour ago, he had sent me a text. [Aria, I’ve saved myself for you for twenty-five years. On our wedding night tomorrow, I can finally have you. I love you!] I looked over at Jasper standing outside the door, staring at me with deep affection, and then back at Jean, whose face was glowing with passion. I raised my glass and clinked it gently against hers. “Jean, is your boyfriend’s last name Cook?”

The day before our wedding, Luke Murray got wasted. On the ride home, he looked right at me and slurred, "Cassie, don't bring the kid to the ceremony. Arya can't know I'm the dad." I hit the brakes. Hard. He smacked into the seatback, halfway sobering up. When he finally realized it was me, he just... froze. Then he said real slow, "Guess you heard. Wedding's off—for now. Cassie doesn't want marriage, but the kid's mine, so I gotta step up. She's your bestie, right? You probably feel bad she's doing this alone. So once he's in school, I'll come back and marry you." I let out a sharp, bitter laugh. "...That's fine. I don't mind." He didn't say a word when we got home—just grabbed his suitcase and left. I wiped the last tear off my face, sat on the bed, and just stared at nothing. Then my phone lit up. My childhood friend's voice cracked on the other end. "Arya, don't marry him. Please." I didn't say anything for a sec. "Okay."