Melodramatic Romance 短篇故事與 Bias Cheating 小說

For the sake of a limited-time event, my fiancé Elton Lowe and Kirsten Chaney, his friend and longtime rival, pretend to be a couple. They agree to break up after a week, but Kirsten keeps pushing his buttons. "Elton, don't tell me you're chickening out! Do you dare to make a bigger bet? We said we'd keep playing this game for the rest of our lives. Whoever quits first is a loser!" Just when everyone thinks Elton will give up the game for my sake, he grits his teeth and refuses to back down. He even raises the stakes, taking their original game of playing a couple a step further by having them pose as husband and wife. For the past five Christmases, Elton has gone home with Kirsten to spend the holidays with her family. And this year is no exception. I look at another text from my mother, Mable Bullock. "Will Elton be coming home with you for Christmas this year? I'm afraid I might not be around to see another one." I tighten my grip on my phone. When I look up, I see Elton carrying in a pile of Christmas supplies before taking out several custom-made suits and holding them up against himself to see how they look. "What kind of clothes do you think Kirsten's mother would like?" When I don't answer, he lets out a scoff. "Forget it. I'm better off asking Kirsten that." As I watch Elton happily go about his business, I open a chat with someone I haven't spoken to in a long time—Landon Grimes. I type out a message, then delete it, only to type it again. "Does your offer from back then still stand? Come home with me this Christmas."

After five years together, Abby Young finally said she was ready to take me home to meet her parents. However, on the day of the visit, she asked my friend Gene Burke to pretend to be her boyfriend and told me to tag along for the free meal. “Abby, I’m your boyfriend! You’re supposed to introduce me to your parents today!” She did not even look up. “Gene just went through a breakup last month. He wants to know what it feels like to meet a girlfriend’s parents, so let him have this one.” I refused to move. Gene sighed. “Forget it. I was only joking. You two should go.” He started to get out of the car, but Abby held him back. “Stay where you are. You’re not going anywhere.” Then, she pulled me into the car and said to me in a persuasive tone, “Tony, it’s only one dinner. I’ll explain everything to my parents after this. Just this once.” Left with no real choice, I reluctantly agreed. When we arrived at her parents’ house, Mr. Young’s face lit up the moment he saw Gene. “Gene, you’re here! Come in! We’ve been looking forward to seeing you. I even made that dessert you love!” Abby went inside with a smile, leaving me alone on the doorstep as though I did not belong there. I turned to her. “How do your parents know Gene?” Abby rubbed her nose, looking guilty. “Actually, this is the third time I’ve brought him home. I was worried about him after his breakup, so I’ve been passing him off as my boyfriend whenever we visit my parents.” I laughed in disbelief. I threw everything I was holding at her feet and turned to leave. “You can enjoy your little family dinner without me.”

On my wedding day, Ethan Westbrook's ex-girlfriend sent word that she was terminally ill. Her dying wish was to wear a wedding dress once in her life. Ethan locked me in the waiting room while he prepared to hold the ceremony with her instead of me to fulfill this wish. I heard his impatient voice through the door as he said to me, "Can't you show some compassion? She's dying. What's wrong with granting her one final wish?" Later, the guy next door who had carried a torch for me for years climbed to the rooftop and begged me to marry him. Ethan stared at me with bloodshot eyes. "Are you really going to throw away our seven-year relationship just for him?" I brushed his hand away. "Should I just let him die? It's only a marriage certificate. Where's your compassion now?"

There's an earthquake. I'm trapped underneath the debris with another young woman. "This woman's chest has been pierced by a steel bar. We have to save her immediately." The rescuers start to approach me when my husband, Quintus Ford, suddenly darts in the other direction. "She's pregnant! Save her first!" I look at him to see him staring at the other young woman in panic. He doesn't know I'm pregnant, too. The doctor who's trying to stop my bleeding shouts, "I can't stop her bleeding! I suspect she has a blood clotting disorder!" I force myself to nod and look at Quintus desperately. However, he says, "I'm her husband. I'll bear the responsibility if anything goes wrong."

On the day of our wedding, Henry Tate tells me, "I slept with Rebecca." He points at the big screen with a grin. "When Yves left you because of Rebecca, I swore I would make him pay and let him know what it feels like to be betrayed. So I slept with his woman." I stare at him in disbelief and suddenly realize that the screen isn't displaying our wedding photos, but photos of a man and a woman being intimate. The man is Henry, and the woman is Rebecca Litt. Three years ago, I caught my fiance, Yves Sullivan, and Rebecca, the student I support financially, in bed together. I'm devastated, and Henry is the one who helps me get through it. But now, he's using the same way to stab me where it hurts most. Tears roll down my face. Henry frowns. "Why are you crying? I got back at him for you. You should be happy."

When my family fell into bankruptcy, I sold myself off for 500 million to pay off our debts and became the wife of Zack Landton—a man twelve years older than me. Everyone knew Zack as a lifelong celibate. They called him a pervert who could not get it up. I had already resigned myself to a sexless marriage, but he showed me a world beyond my wildest imagination. He went at it nearly ten times every night, and I cried and begged for him to spare me because it was too much. He spoiled me rotten but had two terms of his own. He forbade me from calling myself his wife, and he prohibited me from going to the monastery he visited every month. He explained, "I want to keep this a secret to protect you. The monastery is a boring place for a girl like you." I believed him, until I secretly followed him to the monastery this year. I wanted to write down the scriptures with my own hands and give them to him on his birthday. Instead, I saw him kneeling in front of another woman. She looked eerily similar to me. In his hand was the Diamond Star, the very same ring I had been wearing for years. "It's been five years, Eve, and my addiction is cured. I swear I'll never hurt you. You promised you'd marry me. Let's go to the city hall now." Eve. That was the same thing he called me. Tears spilled. Then again, five years had passed. And whatever promise had once held this ridiculous marriage together had clearly expired along with them. It was time for this mockery of a relationship to take its final bow.

In the seventh year of my long-distance relationship with my girlfriend Quinn Summers, I quit my job without telling her and traveled more than six-hundred miles to Oceanton. I only wanted to surprise her and ask her to marry me. When the receptionist heard I was looking for Quinn, her expression slightly shifted. "Our CEO Ms. Summers is still in a meeting. Please wait a moment." I was surprised. Quinn had never told me she had been promoted. During our video call last week, she had even complained about how stressful work was and how far away a promotion felt. When I turned around, I heard the receptionist whispering to her coworker. "So… This is the guy Ms. Summers is keeping on the side? Seriously, he has some nerve, coming all the way to the company." "If Mr. Gomez finds out Ms. Summers is cheating during their marriage, this is going to be very bad." I was about to turn back and tell them they had the wrong person. Quinn was not married, and I was her real boyfriend of ten years. But before I could speak, a man in a black suit walked in from the revolving door. The receptionists immediately fell silent and greeted him with deep respect. "Mr. Gomez." The man was on the phone, his voice low and gentle. "Honey, I'm downstairs. You must come with me to your prenatal checkup today!" A clear female voice came through the phone, agonizingly sweet. "I know, honey. The meeting's almost over. Wait for me at the guest lounge." I had listened to that voice for seven years. I knew it far too well. It was my girlfriend, Quinn.

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.]

My girlfriend, Emma Marshall, had hearing loss and was always claiming she misheard me. I asked her to pick up a gaming setup. She came home with two. "I must've heard you wrong again. Kevin can take the extra one." I asked her to order tacos. She got sushi instead. "Sorry, I heard you wrong. Kevin loves sushi, though. We should invite him over." Then I spent months planning every detail of the home we were supposed to build together and asked her to buy a place in Blackmere. On the day we were supposed to go see it, she drove straight to Carlifield instead. She didn't seem to notice anything was wrong until she realized I hadn't said a word the entire drive. "I'm sorry. I really thought you said you liked the scenery in Carlifield, so when I found this place, I bought it without thinking twice." But Kevin Stone, her childhood best friend, worked only a few minutes away. She hadn't misheard me. She just never cared enough to listen. Something inside me went completely still. For once, I didn't argue. I didn't ask for an explanation. I didn't even feel angry. I just looked at her and said calmly, "Emma, I think we should break up."

It was my son's engagement party. However, my husband stopped me from giving my soon-to-be daughter-in-law her gift. "His mother will do the honors. This is not your place." I thought he was joking until he put his arm around his childhood sweetheart and sat down together around the main table. "I know Bianca mishandled your baby, but she had postpartum depression, and it was an accident. "She gave you Jason to make up for her mistake. It's time for them to be a family again. She has atoned for her sins." My nails dug into my palms hard enough to draw blood. Just when I was on the brink of losing it, my son raised a toast to her. "Someone has stolen your place for 30 years, Mom, but you'll never have to suffer again." Right now, my husband and son were like strangers I'd never met instead of my family. A bitter smile curled my lips. We'd spent more than three decades together. Time had left its mark on my graying hair, yet I was treated as nothing more than an outsider in a place I was supposed to call home. Perhaps this home was too small to fit all of us. Since that was the case, someone had to bow out and that someone… was me.

After an argument with my wife, Joan Newman, I momentarily stepped out of the car to pick up a package. When I returned, our son, Jimmy Newman, was gone. From that moment, I searched for him like a madman. Each waking hour was consumed by guilt. My mother-in-law blamed me. My mother cried herself to sleep. Joan jabbed a finger at my head and screamed, “Why are you still alive? If you don’t find our son, I’m divorcing you!” From that day forward, for four long years, I gave up my career and my life. I traveled across the country almost a hundred times searching for my son, only to be met with disappointment every single time. My body became covered in scars from self-harm. I fell into severe depression. By the hundredth trip, I could no longer summon the will to face another defeat. I swallowed an entire bottle of sleeping pills. As death closed in, I heard Joan talking to her childhood friend, Randy Kilk. “Joan, you’ve tormented him long enough. When are you going to tell Steven that the boy was never missing? I can’t wait to see the look on his face.” Joan laughed and casually said, “There’s no hurry. He forced me to abort our child, so now, he is suffering the consequences. When he finally understands his sins, I may consider telling him.” So, the inhuman torment I had endured for four years had been nothing more than her punishment. As a final tear rolled down my cheek, my soul left my body. Joan, you got exactly what you wanted.

My wife, Claire, wanted our son to give up a kidney to save her childhood sweetheart's daughter. I refused. I fought her so hard that I thought she'd finally let it go. Then our son vanished, and Claire stopped answering my calls. I went to the hospital to find her. There, I learned that the little girl had finally found a donor. Claire would perform the transplant herself. She'd promised to keep her safe. Then I saw the name listed under deceased organ donor. It was my son's.

On Valentine's Day, my fiancee, Camilla Stenson, is admitted to the ER in the middle of the night for food poisoning. In her dazed state, she blurts out, "Nathan, I'm sorry I let you down. If it weren't for me being broke back then, I wouldn't have gotten together with Hendrick." My name is Hendrick Toff, while Nathan Langdon is her first love. It seems that she's forgotten that after the Stenson family went bankrupt, Nathan abandoned her and headed overseas. For the past eight years, I was the one who paid off her debts and remained by her side. Yet, in the end, the person she's always held close to her heart is none other than Nathan. I calmly tell her I want to break up with her, then toss my engagement ring into the trash. However, she says, "Can't you be more magnanimous? Nathan definitely wouldn't be as unreasonable as you." I laugh. "In that case, I'll be giving a piece of trash like you over to him as well."

My wife, Piper Carlson, yanked out my ventilator tube with her own hands. All because she believed the man who donated a kidney to save her was the guy she'd never gotten over. And me? The husband she'd hated for ten years? Just a liar who stole his credit. "Don't be scared, Elliot. The thief who stole your life finally got what he deserved." The second she pulled the tube, my body locked up. I couldn't breathe. Piper barely looked at me. She just held her "savior" close, relieved I was finally gone. Then, while I was dying, she hit me with one last secret. "Marco, wanna know why you could never get me pregnant again? I slipped something into every bottle of vitamins I gave you. You don't deserve my child." I was so furious I almost lost it. But Piper was already posting her marriage certificate with Elliot Lacy. [After everything we've been through, I finally got my happy ending with the man who saved me.] With the last bit of strength I had, I left one final comment. [Piper, how's my kidney treating you?] Then I opened my eyes. I was back ten years earlier, on the rainy night Elliot stole credit for saving her with my kidney.

On my wedding day, explicit photos of me with multiple unknown women suddenly surface. My fiancee, Mildred Gibson, takes my stepbrother Oliver Shaw by the hand and announces that he will be taking my place as the groom. But Mildred's aunt, Daphne Gibson, arrives with millions of dollars, determined to marry me—the man everyone condemns as a cheater. Daphne's unwavering pursuit eventually wins me over, and I marry her. Then, a car accident shatters my spine, leaving me at risk of spending the rest of my life in a wheelchair. The doctors ask my family to sign the surgical consent forms. But my wife, Daphne, places a transfer agreement in front of me. She demands that I sign over my company to Oliver. "Sign this, and I'll sign the consent forms. If you want to make it out of the operating room alive, you'll do exactly as I say," Daphne threatens. She uses the possibility of me spending the rest of my life paralyzed as leverage. I have no choice but to sign the agreement, my hand trembling. Only then do I realize that Daphne's relentless pursuit and the love she shows me throughout our marriage are nothing but lies from the very beginning. Yet, when she sees me again, she breaks down completely. She falls to her knees and strikes herself over and over. "Didn't you say you'd love me forever? Then why did you have a child with someone else?"

Ethan Carter is an international captain for Delta Air Lines. I'd been engaged to him for five years. In those five years,the only time I ever asked him to indulge me was when I sent him a photo of my mother's flight journal. That journal recorded the route she'd flown on her last trip: Boston to Paris. Her health was already failing by then. I wanted Ethan to mark that route for me, and paste it on the last page of the memorial album. He just replied, "I've got a transatlantic flight tomorrow. Flight safety isn't for humoring people." Last week Ethan came home on leave, and while I was sorting his luggage, I found a waterproof document pouch tucked in a lining. Inside was a full set of simulator debrief materials. A name was written on the cover: Claire Bennett. A young first officer at Delta, the rookie Ethan had personally mentored these past two years as she pushed for her international route certification. I opened to the first page. From takeoff roll to stall recovery to approach deviation, every page carried Ethan's handwritten notes. Red circles, blue underlines, black annotations, the handwriting crisp, just like the man himself. A private recommendation letter was tucked into the pouch. He wrote that Claire had "steady judgment, an exceptional capacity to learn, and the potential to join a transatlantic flight crew." Every word was restrained, and every word was precise. The most recent file had been modified last Valentine's Day. That day I'd booked a restaurant. Ethan said he was prepping for a flight and couldn't have dinner with me. I didn't cry. I didn't ask. I picked up my phone and booked a one-way ticket to Seattle. Seattle's air medical transport program was hiring a lead physician. I used to think the future between Ethan and me was something I had to wait for: wait for him to fly less, wait for him to be less busy, wait for him to finally have a spare moment to glance at my journal. I didn't want to wait anymore.

My girlfriend was always extremely possessive of me. Throughout our seven-year relationship, Hannah Levin kept on repeating the same thing, “Do you have any idea how handsome you are, honey? I just want to hide you away from the world. You’re so gorgeous that anyone could easily fall for you. I get jealous whenever someone looks at you twice.” That was why she never let me anywhere near her social circle. Until one day, I stumbled across her private social media account using an anonymous profile. Three years. More than six hundred posts. Every single one of them documented her life with another man. They wandered through Skyreach Citadel, made wishes atop snow-covered mountains, and kissed openly on the streets of Silverhaven. Her latest post showed them at the beach. Surrounded by cheering and screaming friends, she kissed him for everyone to see. The caption was: When you love someone, you can’t help showing him off to the whole world. My fingers trembled as I quietly closed the page and booked a flight to Ravenport. It turned out that letting go of a seven-year relationship could only take a heartbeat.

Three years after I died, Stella, my wife, decided to divorce me and marry her dying ex. She stormed into my old house like she owned the place, forcing me to sign the divorce agreement. Mom told her the truth—I was already gone. Stella rolled her eyes. "Why's he still pretending? Harvey's dying. I just wanna be there for him. What's so wrong about that? If he won't come out, I'm done paying your medical bills." She thought threatening Mom would shake something loose. But what Stella didn't get? Mom had already stopped treatment. She was just hanging on to watch her crack.

The pair of pink diamonds I've had my eye on for the longest time is finally auctioned off for a staggering price. Outside the auction hall, the young woman who won the bid is talking sweetly to someone on the phone. "Babe, you really don't have to come all the way here. Margot will be with me, so I'm good… Okay, fine. Love you!" I watch her with slight envy. Those pink diamonds are supposed to be my fifth-anniversary wedding gift. Before the auction, I've called my husband, Gabriel Hudson, and asked if he could come with me. But he said it was a trivial matter and that I could handle the bidding myself. The woman was on the phone earlier, and from what I could make out, they're planning to have dinner together to celebrate. My rideshare arrives. I'm about to leave when the woman suddenly shouts excitedly, "Margot, over here!" I follow her gaze. The person approaching is none other than my housekeeper, Margot Lawrence.

The day after my twin sister died in an accident, I married her fiancé, the man who was supposed to be my brother-in-law. That very day, Mark Zeller printed thousands of copies of my sister's death report and told everyone I was the real murderer. Because of this, everyone despised me, and my parents immediately disowned me. After we got married, he was constantly in the tabloids with his flings and brought countless women home. He'd make me stand by the bedroom door, listening to them making love. Then, after he was done, he'd make me take photos of him and his lovers in bed. I silently endured it all. My only request was to have a baby with him. Mark scoffed. "Gloria Hale, how can you be so shameless? If you're so desperate to sleep with a man, just go out and find one. Instead, you're begging for it at my feet like an animal. Aren't you disgusted with yourself? "You think having my baby will make me change my ways? Let me tell you, never!" To crush my hopes, he went even further and spent a fortune to build a castle in the suburbs. Every single room in that castle housed one of his lovers. The people in our social circle said, "Mark's mistresses are way lovelier than his wife at home who only knows how to wag her tail like a dog." Three years later, Mark's mother sent me a text to remind me: "Gloria, remember our agreement. Three years are almost up. You have one more week to sort everything out."