Plot Twists Romance 단편 소설 & Bias Cheating 소설

The night before our graduation, I find out that my girlfriend of four years, Naomi Walker, has been financially supporting a low-income student named Luca Brown. Every month, the money she saves from her living expenses goes straight to Luca. I confront her with my phone in hand. She falls silent before finally admitting, "Yes, I feel sorry for him. So what?" Four years together, and it all means less to her than her sympathy for him. I'm not ready to let things end like that. I push aside my sadness and stand beside her for our graduation photo. Then her roommate, Ava Jackson, comes rushing over. "Naomi! Luca heard you're getting engaged to Caspian after graduating, and he took a whole bottle of sleeping pills in the dorm!"

Everyone in high society whispered that Tristan Webster kept a tame, submissive trophy girlfriend on his arm. That image shattered at a yacht party when a newcomer pointed at me and asked the room, "Wait, isn't she the legendary woman who slept with Tristan's best friends in one night just to get back at him for cheating?" The room fell dead silent. Tristan's childhood friends sat around the poker table, their expressions unreadable. Tristan, however, simply swirled the wine in his glass and lounged against the leather sofa before casually beckoning me over. "Come here." I walked over without a word and lit his cigarette for him. "Sorry, she caused such a scene back then," he said smoothly, blowing a stream of smoke into the air. His tone gave nothing away. "She certainly gave everyone something to talk about. But after spending a year at the treatment center, she's much calmer now." "Definitely," someone quickly chimed in, trying to lighten the mood. "She's practically trained now." "Yeah." Tristan stubbed out his cigarette, then tipped my chin up with two fingers. "Next month, I'll finally give you the wedding you've been waiting for." "Okay." I looked into his deep, searching eyes and obediently pressed my lips to his. What he didn't know was that I'd stopped caring about that wedding a long time ago.

Eight years after I left the country, I'm offered a fortune to come back. After a research symposium, I run into my ex-boyfriend, Ethan Grimsley. He proposes to me and asks me to give him another chance. My former colleagues from the research institute immediately start cheering, all of them waiting for me to burst into tears and say yes. After all, they remember how crazy I used to be about Ethan. Back then, there was nothing I wouldn't have done for him. Apparently, they've forgotten what happened eight years ago. At a project showcase, I proposed to Ethan in front of everyone, only for him to turn me down without a hint of emotion. And that wasn't all. To help Michelle Lindberg, someone he knew from grad school, win the bonus, he accused me of stealing her research in front of over 100 cameras. I did everything I could to clear my name, but the evidence he fabricated was so convincing that every attempt to defend myself only made me look guiltier. Then he stood by while Michelle paid to spread the scandal all over social media, turning the entire internet against me. All those years of hard work became the biggest stain on my career, and the man I'd loved for years turned our relationship into a joke. After that, I had no choice but to flee the country. Now I'm back, and Ethan is down on one knee in front of me, holding out a ring with an easy smile. "That's all in the past. I'm not angry anymore. Now that you're back, let's get married." What he doesn't know is that I already have a husband.

My best friend and her boyfriend started a couples' vlog channel together, and it recently went viral online. I immediately followed it, watching every single upload. Yet, I couldn't shake the feeling that her blurred-out boyfriend acted suspiciously like my husband. When I mentioned it to her, she just flicked my forehead. "Girl, you're so crazy in love that you see your husband everywhere! Keep this up, and I'm gonna start getting jealous!" Blushing, I rubbed my head and quickly changed the subject. That was until my husband's company retreat, where I dragged Barbara Moore along to keep me company. Out of nowhere, our flight back suffered a severe emergency. Flight attendants handed out paper for everyone to write down their final words. With trembling hands, I finished writing mine, only to catch a glance at theirs. They had written down each other's names! My husband turned on his camera, framing both of them in the shot. "Barbara, I'm content to spend my final moments with you. Everyone, this channel won't be updating anymore. Goodbye." Neither of them noticed that off-camera, my face had gone deathly pale. Yet in the end, the plane managed to land safely. None of us died. I didn't cry or throw a scene. Instead, I simply tore up my final note, opened the car door, and got in. "What are you guys standing there for? Get in."

My boyfriend, Sean Conway, tells me he wants to get married and asks me to wear a wedding dress to the company's annual party. I think he's finally going to propose. So I show up in the most beautiful wedding gown I can find, bouquet in hand, and confess my love to him in front of the entire company. Suddenly, his sweet, innocent-looking secretary, Hannah Sloan, storms over and dumps an entire cup of coffee on me. "You shameless, ugly bitch! Just because you landed a nine-figure deal, you think you can steal my husband? You slut! Keep running your mouth, and I'll shut it for you!" Sean has always been a stickler for the rules, but instead of standing up for me, he accuses me of violating company policy and hands my project over to Hannah. Everyone looks at me with pity, waiting for me to make a scene. But instead of arguing or getting angry, I simply take off my employee badge and toss it to Hannah. "So you're the CEO's wife. My mistake. Consider my director position a wedding gift to you both." What Sean doesn't know is that Dad practically forced me to take on that nine-figure project in the first place. Now that I'm stepping down as project lead, Sean won't be able to move forward with the deal. And since he replaced the project lead at the last minute, his company will be in breach of contract. Bankruptcy will only be the beginning. He'll be left drowning in debt too.

My husband, Mitch Cooley, has been with me through my fifth year of battling depression. While searching for recipes online, a notification for a late-night livestream for anonymous confessions pops up on my phone screen. "What's the biggest lie your husband has ever told you?" I tap on the notification out of curiosity as my eyes are drawn to the profile picture showing two hands tightly clasped together. The interviewee replies, "I'm still single, but if it's about my stupid best friend, then she'd been lied to by her husband three times. "The first time, her ex-boyfriend died in a car crash while cheating on her, and her now-husband hid the truth on purpose so that she thought the main reason her ex died was that she wanted to break up with him. "Her husband knew all along that her ex-boyfriend had been cheating on her with me, but he watched her try to slit her wrists in remorse multiple times without telling her the truth. "As for the third time, I just mentioned to her husband that he could only ever have a baby with me, and he immediately got himself a certificate proving that he was sexually frigid and refused to sleep with her. "But the most ridiculous thing is that my best friend still stupidly went to get an IVF done while I was rolling in the sheets with her husband every night." I feel alarm bells go off in my head. Mitch had also suddenly experienced sexual frigidity recently. The hospital he went to for treatment was one recommended by my best friend, Lexie Moyer. My hands tremble as I click on the interviewee's profile picture. I then realize that the red mole on the ring finger is the exact same one on Mitch's finger. The interviewee's tone suddenly turns low and restrained. "Even when her husband told her today that he would be working overtime at the company, when he was actually keeping me and our son company, she still made a whole table of dishes waiting for him to come home." I freeze on the spot the moment the interviewee's voice changer malfunctions for a bit. I know that voice too well. It is Lexie's.

The day we take our graduation pictures, I come across a photographer's post. In the caption, he writes, "I've been a photographer for ten years, and this is the first time I've ever done a wedding shoot on the same day as the bride's and groom's graduation! "They're both gorgeous, and they're incredibly patient. The groom doesn't even touch his phone. He just keeps gazing at the bride with so much love. "I spend all day shooting, and my camera's memory card is completely full. But getting to photograph a couple this perfect makes it all worth it!" I think about how my boyfriend, Zack Warner, is absent from our graduation photo session that morning, leaving us without a single picture together in our caps and gowns. Still disappointed about that, I open the photos, feeling envious. The moment I see the bride's and groom's faces, my breathing quickens. The groom is Zack, my boyfriend of four years. He always says we'll get married once he finds a stable job. The bride is my best friend, Wendy Carter, the campus belle. Just two hours ago, Wendy comforts me over WhatsApp, saying there are plenty of men in the world. If I'm upset with Zack, I can always find someone else. But now, she's holding Zack's hand, their fingers intertwined. She's the bride-to-be about to begin her happy new life.

By the time Kenneth Ford finally showed up, I was already soaked through. He wasn't alone. There was a girl under his umbrella, and at well over six feet tall, Kenneth had enough height to shield her almost completely from the rain. He'd tilted the umbrella so far toward her that one side of his shirt was getting drenched, but he didn't seem to care. He just smiled and let her stay tucked safely beside him. Then he saw me, and the smile on his face disappeared. "Sorry, I'm late," he muttered. The girl beside him immediately turned to me. "Hannah, it's my fault. I've gotten so used to sharing Kenneth's umbrella that I asked him to walk me home. And honestly, being tucked up against him makes me feel so safe." "How many times have you done that it has become a habit?" I held back my question. Instead, I smiled, stepped under the umbrella behind them, and hurried to keep up. Rainwater dripped from my hair down the back of my neck, while Kenneth kept the umbrella tilted toward her the entire way. I had dinner with them, shared a drink, and spent the whole night listening to their laughter. After midnight, when Kenneth was finally fast asleep, I took the umbrella, opened it, snapped a picture, and sent it to Berta Neal. [Since you like it so much, stay tucked against him for the rest of your life.]

At our son's first birthday banquet, my husband, Luis Danforth, stood up in front of everyone and announced he was bringing another child into the family. Then his first love, Cathlene Richards, walked up cradling Luis's "illegitimate son." "Luis, thank you for giving our child a home." The room erupted into murmurs. My in-laws just nodded, looking relieved. The whole world took their side, calling me, the wife, cruel and small-minded. Luis crossed the room and threw a paternity test in my face. "Layla, sign it. Let him take his rightful place in the family. It doesn't matter how much you cause a scene. This is ironclad proof." I looked at the report, at the line confirming a "biological match," and smiled. I picked up the microphone and, in front of every guest in the room, played a recording. "Cathlene, that DNA sample you stole out of the trash belongs to my golden retriever."

At a party hosted at our house, my husband sang a soul-stirring rendition of “Missing You Tonight". He poured his heart into it, his eyes misty and his voice raspy with emotion. I secretly recorded a video and posted it online. To my surprise, the video blew up. Hundreds of thousands of likes poured in, with the comment section overflowing with sympathy. Laughing, I handed my phone to my husband. “Jacob, you went viral.” The top-voted comment read: [Girl, I’m not one to stir up drama, but your husband looks like he’s nursing a broken heart.] I thought he’d just laugh it off with a half-hearted smile. Instead, he took the phone and looked me straight in the eye with dead seriousness. “You’re right, I am heartbroken. I fell for a younger girl, but she refuses to be my lover and is trying to break up with me.” The room fell silent. I didn’t cry or make a scene. I just took my phone back and spoke in a flat, even tone. “That works out then. Let’s get a divorce. The young guy I’ve been seeing on the side has been throwing a fit, too, demanding I make things official with him.”

In my third year as a blind massage therapist, Henry Young took his employees on a company retreat. By sheer coincidence, he ended up booking me. When he saw me, he remained perfectly composed, so much so that even his breathing did not falter. I served him the same way I treated every other client. Then his phone rang. My hands paused for a moment as my own voice, young and girlish, came through his phone speaker. His employees immediately started teasing him. Henry simply explained in a gentle voice, “My wife recorded that when she was young and didn’t know any better.” Just as he was leaving, Henry suddenly turned around. “Anya Walt, I’ve never forgotten you. “Are you really going to keep living this hard life, with my child by your side?” I rubbed my fingertips again and again, but said nothing. It seemed he still had no idea. Back then, I kept our child and delivered the baby. But the baby was stillborn.

I am delivering documents to my fiance, Caleb Greene, when I see his personal assistant, Yelena Langdon, sit in his lap. "Mr. Greene, the seatbelt's broken and dug into my chest so hard that it really hurts now. Could you help me take a look?" Caleb, who claims to have a phobia of women, lets out a low chuckle and strokes her waist. "Is that so? Then I should take a closer look to see where you're hurt." The two get tangled together right there in the car, so engrossed in each other that they fail to notice me standing outside even after five minutes have passed. I knock on the car window. After Caleb rolls down the window, his face twists into an expression of shock. "Becca! What are you doing here? I can explain! We were trying out the car earlier when the seatbelt suddenly got jammed—" "There's no need to explain anything. The car suspension is indeed not bad." Tossing the documents right in his face, I then throw the car key into a nearby storm drain. "You can have the car. Don't forget to clean it after you're done having your filthy fun." With that, I turn my back to him and dial my mother's number. "Mom, I agree to meet with the marriage alliance partner you told me about last time. The sooner the better."

Ronan Carmichael and I are sworn enemies in Glenworth. Everyone in high society knows it. Where he is, I'm not, and where I am, he won't be. He poaches my projects on the East End, and I cut off his funding on the West Side. He drives my assistant off a rooftop, and I destroy his lover's reputation. The reason is simple. I'm in love with his older brother, Desmond Carmichael, and he has his sights set on my younger sister, Annette Sayer. Then comes the yacht gala. Business rivals seize me and shove me to the edge of the deck, screaming that my father is going to pay for his betrayal all those years ago. But Desmond only pulls Annette behind him and tells them, "She's just an illegitimate daughter. Do whatever you want with her." The moment I plunge into the water, Ronan is the one who dives in after me and grabs my hand with everything he has. "Forget about my brother, Daphne. Lunatics like us belong in hell together." And just like that, I think he's absolutely right.

After my wife married and divorced me ten times, she signed a Love Insurance policy with me. "Ethan, I know I'm putting off the remarriage a little longer this time. So I'm signing this with you first. Think of it as my guarantee to you." Not long after, she wanted to terminate our policy so she could go marry the man she'd never gotten over. "Julian doesn't have long. His last wish is to marry me. I can't take that away from a dying man." What she didn't know was that the policy had a clause in it. If it was terminated before it matured, I'd be taken away by a private organization, and the two of us would never see each other again.

My wife, Lily Tanner, is a mortician. She's trying to avoid getting fired during her pregnancy, so she keeps locking herself in the morgue. I may be her husband and colleague, but even I am not allowed inside. I don't want her to work too hard, so in the middle of the night, I sneak into the morgue to do her checks for her. However, she reacts by going berserk and sounding the alarm. Ever since then, I've been very careful around her, fearing that it may affect her pregnancy. Later on, with Lily repeatedly receiving praise from the deceased's family, our department decides to hold a commendation ceremony for her. The whole family seems relieved. However, as soon as Lily receives her award, I ask her for a divorce. The room instantly falls silent. Tearing off the medal on her chest, she complains in a wounded tone, "I'm working myself to the bone even when I'm pregnant, and I'm doing all this to give our child a better life. You're worried that I'll outperform you and overtake you as the top mortician in the industry, aren't you?" I look away from her, a cold smile forming on my lips. "Spend the rest of your life with those bodies, then. I don't want the child anymore, and I'm definitely divorcing you."

On Valentine's Day, my wife, Serena Green, makes a dinner reservation for us at a romantic restaurant. She says she has a surprise for me, but she ends up standing me up when she gets called to perform an emergency surgery. I understand that this is just the nature of being a surgeon, so I celebrate the day by having dinner at the restaurant alone. As soon as I sit down, the restaurant manager greets me warmly. "Mr. Langley! Yesterday, your wife informed us that you love our newly released lobster pasta. We've made sure to prepare it for you today." My hands clench around the menu. "Is that so? But I'm allergic to shellfish. My wife should be aware of that." The smile on the manager's face stiffens. "I'm so sorry. I must've mistaken you for someone else. I'll cancel the order right away." Suppressing my suspicions, I call Serena. "Did you have dinner at this restaurant yesterday?"

On New Year’s Eve, the girlfriend who had promised to go home with me was nowhere to be found. Instead, my close friend, Logan, sent two voice notes. “Bro, your girl is mine now! “You have no idea. Ever since we were kids, my dad only ever listens to her. One word from her is worth more than a hundred from me! It works great, I love it, and I’ll definitely use it again!” At exactly midnight, as fireworks exploded outside the window, Chloe called me, laughing. “You have no idea. Thank God I came over! Mr. Creston looked like he was ready to beat Logan up–” “Chloe,” I interrupted her. “Do you remember that my parents have been waiting to have dinner with you?” Silence fell on the other end before she replied, “What? Fireworks are about to go off! I have to hang up. I’ll rush back to you as soon as this is over!” “Don’t bother.” I said as she hung up on me. Then, I opened a file titled ‘Things Chloe Has Done for Logan.’ On the very last page, it read, "Once this list is a hundred things long, I’ll leave.” And today, the list had a hundred things.

My avoidant fiance refused to talk to me about anything. Every time we fought, he would put on his earphones and turn the volume all the way up. This time, we were arguing over laundry detergent again. He impatiently slammed the earphones on me. "Are you seriously going to do this again, Jessica? You fight because of bad photos. You start a fight because I didn't take out the trash in time, and you start fights because I forgot our anniversaries. And now I can't even choose which detergent I use?" I stared at the red mark on my thigh and the broken earphones on the ground. I saved up most of my salary for that. It was a present, but now he was using it to vent. Yet he had kept the laundry detergent his childhood friend gave him for six whole years. Every time an important date was coming up, he would use a bit of it to wash all his clothes. The sickly sweet scent of that detergent filled the room. I looked up and held back my tears. "Let's break up, Zack."

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.

The stray cat I adopted had recently started looking at my boyfriend, Logan Bennett, and his female best friend, Chloe Dawson, like they were complete idiots. Then one day, Chloe climbed into the passenger seat of Logan’s car again and shot me a provocative smile. A fierce little voice suddenly rang out in my head: “Human, that woman is calling you an idiot in her head! She’s also planning to get your man drunk tonight! Hurry up and slap her! If you do, I’ll make sure you find money on the street when you leave!” I froze and stared down at Mochi in my arms. So my cat could not only talk, but also read minds and predict the future? Fine. From today on, Mochi and I would make these two shameless cheaters pay—and make sure everyone knew exactly who they were!