Cerita Pendek Melodramatic Romance & Novel Bias Face Slapping

My wife's family ran on the old logic: sons mattered, daughters were a tax. They called my five-year-old daughter "the cash drain" to her face. On New Year's Day, my wife told me my daughter was donating a kidney to her cousin. I was about to lose it on every adult in that room when something appeared in the air in front of me, a column of text only I could see: [Is this woman seriously the mother? She says it's a kidney transplant, but she actually wants the kid's heart.] [If I had a mom like that I'd have cut her off years ago.]

I've spent eight years in a secret relationship with my best friend's brother. In public, Gerald Scott treats me like nothing more than his capable secretary. Behind closed doors, he holds me in his arms every night, whispering that he'll love me forever. One day, I accidentally discover that he's bought one of those 'one-per-lifetime' engagement rings. Certain he's about to propose to me, I follow him to the beautifully decorated venue, my heart bursting with excitement. Instead, I watch him drop to one knee before a woman who bears an uncanny resemblance to me. Tears fill his eyes as he slips the ring onto her finger. "You're the only woman I'll ever marry." After the woman says yes, Gerald's friends gather around to congratulate him. One of them laughs. "The real thing's finally back. So when are you getting rid of the stand-in you've been keeping at home?" Gerald takes a slow drag on his cigarette before exhaling a cloud of smoke. "That woman's completely devoted to me," he says quietly. "She'll never leave me. There's no rush." I clamp a hand over my mouth to stop myself from crying. Then I turn around and send my mother a message that reads, "Mom, I've made up my mind. I'll go through with the arranged marriage." As fate would have it, the day Gerald is getting married is the very day Alvin Hart and I are due to make our marriage official. And when Gerald sees the wedding announcement I post, the color drains from his face.

When my fiance, Kai Vaughn, and my best friend, Eliana Sinclair, drug me and drag me into the penthouse suite of the richest man in the capital, I breathe a sigh of relief. "At long last, I'm home." Kai assumes I've lost my mind under the threat of impending doom and viciously grips my chin. "Our company's survival depends on this project, you bitch! I hear there's a woman Mr. Harlan has never gotten over, even after all these years, and your face just happens to look a little like hers. "You'd better serve him well. Once we secure the project, I might even be generous enough to give you some money!" Eliana covers her mouth and giggles beside him. "That's right. You should thank your lucky stars that you get to serve Mr. Harlan. Don't be ungrateful!" When the drug takes effect, I'm violently shoved through the gilded doors. No one notices that as I lean back against the leather couch, my eyes are filled with mockery. The ruthless, cold-blooded Mr. Harlan Kai and Eliana are talking about—the man who treats his substitute lovers as nothing more than playthings—is actually my biological father, Tristan Harlan. Today, they've personally delivered me right back to Dad's side. Tomorrow, they'll learn what it means to live a life worse than death.

On the day of the divorce hearing, the judge went through the usual questions. “You’ve only been married for three years. Are you certain your marriage has broken down beyond repair?” I forced a bitter smile. I took off my wedding ring and placed it on the table. “We were married for three years, yet we were never together for all three years. “Your Honor, is there anything left between us?” We dated for five years before marriage. My name was pinned at the top of his WhatsApp. I was his emergency contact. I was even the beneficiary of his insurance policy. I thought I had married the right man. But on our wedding day, he received a phone call, and his face instantly turned pale. I asked him what happened. He only said his mother was sick. He left everything behind and immediately booked a flight back to his hometown. For the next three years, he sent me photos of his three meals every day, but his mother never appeared in any of those photos. I felt sorry for him. I even offered to quit my job and go back with him to take care of her. He had refused and said softly, “I can’t bear to let you do that.” A month ago, I saw a cancer influencer’s account online. Orion Young appeared in one of her vlogs. The caption was heartwarming. [He’s there when I wake up. He’s there for every meal. His hands are always there for me to hold.] What did that make me? For 1,095 days, I had only myself. He had been lying to me. The judge struck the gavel for the final time and asked, “Have you made your decision?” I nodded firmly. The court officially ended the marriage. I looked at the divorce judgment in my hands, and my tears finally fell. I thought, “Orion, I’m setting you free. I’m setting both of us free.”

We finally made it to the County Clerk's Office with only fifteen minutes to spare before they stopped processing marriage licenses. Our friends were already gathered at the bottom of the steps, urging us to go inside. "Come on, get in there! After everything you two have been through, you finally made it in time for the eighth try!" My best friend, Ryan Chapman, had red-rimmed eyes as he reached over and straightened my tie for me. I was just about to walk inside when Chester Snyder, Melissa's childhood friend, suddenly spoke from the back seat. "Wait. My lucky bracelet broke. I need to fix it first." I stopped. Melissa stopped, too. "Okay. No rush." Chester lowered his head and began adjusting the bracelet, then looked up at me with a smile. "Don't worry, Zane. I will have it fixed in a minute. "I made these lucky bracelets especially for the two of you. They are supposed to bring good luck and help keep your marriage smooth." When he finished, he casually handed his phone to Melissa. "Can you hold this for me?" Melissa took it without a word. The chatter around us suddenly died. The friends who had been cheering us on moments ago exchanged uneasy looks. I looked at Melissa. "Melissa, the County Clerk's Office stops processing marriage licenses at five. "If we go in now, we will make it just in time." Melissa frowned and glanced at the time. "I'm already here. A few more minutes won't make a difference." I watched her stand beside the car, patiently waiting while Chester fixed his bracelet. Then, suddenly, I smiled. I lowered my head, took out my phone, and sent a message to a number I knew by heart. [You said that if the eighth attempt failed, you'd consider giving me a chance.] [Get to the County Clerk's Office before five.]

I was a sucker for pretty faces. The only reason I agreed to date Isabelle was because she was passable-looking as partner material. It had only been a few days since junior year started when my roommate came over to me and awkwardly said, "Damian, I just spotted your girlfriend getting pretty close to that well-known broke pretty boy by the campus lake." I immediately rolled up my sleeves and rushed toward the lake. From a distance, I saw Isabelle standing very close to a slim young man. But the moment I got a good look at his face, I froze. "Damn! This guy was insanely handsome!" He was so good-looking that even I, as another guy, was jealous. Isabelle frowned and stepped in front of me. She said impatiently, "His grandma was rushed to the hospital after a heart attack. I was only trying to comfort him. Don't give him a hard time for no reason, okay?" I pulled her aside, then walked over and gave the handsome guy a firm pat on the shoulder. "Bro, if you're in trouble, you can come to me!"

In the Blackridge Mountains there's an old tradition: a man may leave the mountains only seven times in his life. If he still can't get out of the mountains with the woman he loves after the seventh journey, he's expected to marry inside the mountain villages and stay there for good. Because of that tradition, I borrowed hair oil from Grandpa seven times, put on my best coat, and crossed ridge after ridge down to the town below, waiting each time for the woman who said she'd take me out of the mountains and marry me. All seven times, she never came. At the village, the chief sat smoking his pipe and said, "That's the seventh time you've gone down for marriage registration. And that young director of yours ran off to the next village again, to film the handsome boy who smiles for her camera. "Her heart hasn't been on you in a long time, Noah. What are you still waiting for?" In the four years since she came to these mountains, I crossed them for her seven times. But something always happened to the man named Ash, and every time, I was the one left behind. I looked at the village chief and shook my head. "I'm not waiting anymore. I'm getting married in three days."

My wife, Ivy Hart, is about to give birth to the baby she conceived with Toby Clayton, her first love. Her parents hire ten bodyguards to stand guard outside the delivery room. Cora Norris, Ivy's mother, takes Ivy's hand and remarks, "Don't worry, Ivy. We'll make sure he can't get within two feet of you! Your dad is standing guard outside with the bodyguards. If he dares to stop you from having the baby, we'll report him to the police!" Ivy nods, her complexion pale, but she instinctively looks toward the door anyway. She doesn't see why I can't be more understanding of her. All she wants to do is help Toby have a child to carry on his family name. The birth proceeds without me showing up to cause a scene. She smiles gladly when she sees the crying baby in the nurse's arms. She thinks to herself that if I visit her tomorrow, she is willing to forget all about our previous fights. She is even willing to let me be the baby's father. What she doesn't know is that I've already submitted my application to the Alliance of Nations. In seven days, I will be leaving the country to become a field doctor for the Frontline Medical Corp, a humanitarian organization. I won't be coming back ever again.

The sole heiress of a wealthy family, Amanita Wallace, had seven prospective husbands, taken in from childhood to potentially wed her one day. All of them fulfilled her every wish, except Marcus Channing, who was cold and mean to her. Due to this, Amanita fell for him and even became his lapdog. Then, one day, she saw him pin his supposed sister against the wall and confess his feelings to her.

One night before our engagement, Darren Finch insisted on throwing a singles party aboard a cruise ship. He made it clear I wasn't invited. But in the middle of the night, I got a call saying he'd fallen overboard. Panic overtook me. Feverish and disoriented, I stumbled to the deck and dove into the sea without a second thought. The night waters were icy, sapping the strength from my limbs. As I was pulled back onto the deck, shivering and soaked, I heard laughter ring out from the crowd. Carrie Specter, Darren's childhood sweetheart, stood above me. She gave a soft, lilting laugh. "Seeing how far you're willing to go for Darren... I can finally hand him over to you without worry." At that, Darren wrapped an arm smugly around her waist. "Carrie, you really do know me best." "I told you," she beamed, "Paula would pass your test." I let out a cold laugh, slipped the engagement ring from my finger, and flung it at his face. "No, thanks. I wish you two eternal bliss. Just don't ever drag me into your drama again."

At my wedding to Percy Fritz, his sworn enemy, Carlene Skinner, suddenly bursts in. She wrecks the place and shoves me to the ground in the process. Then, she points at Percy and yells, "You ruined my blind date, so I'm going to ruin your wedding!" Percy's temper flares, and he snaps back, "That's because you interrupted my date!" "I still haven't settled the score with you for stealing my client!" The two of them just keep going at each other in the middle of the wedding. Blood runs down my forehead as I call out Percy's name, but he doesn't even notice. As I watch them argue until their faces are red, my hands turn cold and start to tremble. I pick up the microphone that has rolled to my feet and finally cut their argument short. "Percy, I'm calling off the wedding."

I'm widely regarded as one of the best dreamwalkers in the field. For five years, I've paved the path to success for my CEO boyfriend, Silas Kielsburn, with the help of my dreamwalking skills. Alas, on the anniversary of our relationship, Silas insists on signing a 20-million-dollar financing deal after reading the dreamwalking interpretation drafted by my archnemesis, Maisie Caldwell. He completely disregards my many attempts to warn him that my dreamwalking interpretation shows the terrible danger looming over him in his dream. "Cassiopeia Vale, look at how selfless Maisie is! Her dreamwalker interpretations are the only things that can bestow golden opportunities upon me! Only a dreamwalker who's as pure-hearted and noble as she is is befitting as my wife!" After that, Silas smashes the fortune-shifting crystal I've gifted to him before proposing to Maisie. I respond by demanding the unpaid dreamwalking fees worth hundreds of thousands of dollars Silas has accumulated during the past five years. However, I end up getting cornered by the thugs he has hired in an alley. In fact, I almost lose my life there. Five years later, I chance upon Silas once again at a university anniversary celebration. By then, he's already a rising star in the tech industry. At the moment, he has an arm wrapped around Maisie, who's now an influencer known for her dreamwalking knowledge that she's stolen from me. Their popularity knows no bounds. As for me, I'm currently kneeling by a flower bed while rummaging through the lawn. "Remember how you refused to tell me the entirety of the dreamwalking interpretation back then, Cassiopeia? To think that you've fallen so far from grace to the point that you're looking for crumbling stones in the shrubs! "Even if you turned the lawn upside down, you and I will never get back together!" I completely tune Silas out. After all, my son has accidentally lost the crystal that I've given to his father as a love token. I need to find it as soon as possible. Otherwise, my extremely doting husband will definitely teach him a painful lesson at home tonight.

After five years of washing dishes overseas, I finally paid off every debt my husband owed and brought my child home, ready to surprise him. But when we reached the rental apartment, it was dusty and locked. A passing neighbor looked stunned. "Didn't you and Mr. Guilfoyle break up? Why are you back?" I went straight to my husband's office, only to be stopped by the receptionist. "Looking for Mr. Guilfoyle? He isn't at the office today. He's at his baby's one-month celebration." My phone lit up with a news alert. "Guilfoyle Group president Adrian Guilfoyle spends millions on lavish one-month celebration; couple appears deeply in love." At the same time, a voice message from Adrian came in. "Honey, I found a few baby clothes online for our son. They were only a few dollars. Remember to pick up the package." In the background, a woman laughed softly and teased him. "The bet's over. How much longer are you going to keep using that fake marriage license to fool Maya Liddell? Aren't you tired of pretending to be poor after all these years?" So I was the only one who had ever been truly poor. After going in circles for years, I had somehow become the real other woman.

My boyfriend, Seth Ellington, suffers from amnesia, and he has forgotten everything about me. His memories are frozen in the year when he was still in love with his first love, Lillian Summerfield. The doctor tells me there's a chance he can recover, so I stay by his side and help him through his treatment. For three years, I take care of him as neither his wife nor a member of his family, becoming the laughingstock of the town. People even place bets on when I'll give up and when Seth'll regain his memories. It all comes to a head when I go to pick him up from the bar and accidentally overhear his conversation with one of his friends. "Seth, I have to say, that little amnesia act of yours is brilliant. You get to be with Ms. Summerfield without having to hide it, and you've still got Calliope, that housekeeper you can't get rid of, taking care of things at home. However, if you marry Ms. Summerfield, what are you going to do about Calliope?" Seth scoffs. "What am I going to do about her? Calliope… can't live without me. When the time comes, I'll tell her that I'm marrying Lily because it'll help me regain my memories. She'll definitely believe me. "Knowing her, she'll wait for me to get divorced. Hell, even if Lily and I have a child, she'd happily raise it for me!" My mind goes blank as I'm rooted to the spot. So, he doesn't have amnesia. He's been pretending all along. Maybe this is for the best. From now on, he's free, and so am I.

The day my parents traveled all the way from home to discuss the wedding arrangements, the Miller family—led by Grayson Miller—showed up late. After my third call went unanswered, my mom forced a smile and tried to comfort me. "Maybe they're stuck in traffic. It's no big deal. Your dad and I don't mind waiting." And wait we did—for three hours. Their expressions slowly shifted from eager excitement to quiet sorrow. My dad kept tugging at the stiff, ill-fitting suit he rarely wore. Finally, he couldn't hold it in anymore. His eyes reddened, and his voice trembled as he asked, "Sweetheart… does it have to be him? "I'm not trying to break you two up. It's just—you'll be thousands of miles away from us. If you ever get hurt, your mom and I… we won't be there in time to wipe your tears." My nails dug into my palms. Still, I smiled, helped my parents to their feet, and said: "Dad, Mom, let's go home. Forget the engagement. I don't want it anymore."

With a knife in hand, Olivia Gerber catches Caleb Jebb in bed with another woman for the ninth time, only to discover that the woman is none other than her younger sister, Shannon Gerber. The usually aloof Caleb suddenly grabs the knife and drives it deep into his own abdomen. "Don't hurt Shannon." Caleb stares at Olivia with bloodshot eyes, his voice unexpectedly shaking. "You can get back at me however you want. I'll accept it. Are you happy now?" Olivia freezes on the spot, her fingertips numb from the warmth of his blood. The next moment, Gerald Gerber, her father, hurries over and slaps her across the face. He launches into a furious tirade. "Olivia, have you lost your mind? All Shannon did was come between you and your husband. What's the big deal? Did you really have to come here and embarrass her?" Vivian Ingham, her mother, points at her and tells her off. "You've been married to Caleb for five years, yet you still haven't given him a child. So many women have tried to take your place as his wife. "Your sister's willing to help you out. Don't you know how lucky you are? And instead of thanking her, you choose to get back at her?" At that moment, Olivia finds the whole situation completely absurd. Caleb has spent years fighting with her, yet he is willing to compromise for Shannon. Gerald and Vivian have known all along that Shannon is a homewrecker, yet they keep enabling her behavior. Ever since Olivia and Shannon were kids, their parents have always favored Shannon. No matter what she does, they always forgive her. And Olivia? All she ever gets is endless criticism. If that's how it is, Olivia is done with her rotten marriage and family.

On my wife Christine Stott's birthday, I held a property certificate, hoping to surprise her. I waited until midnight, but she never showed up. Instead, I got a confession. Christine: [I'm pregnant, but the baby isn't yours. I'm sorry...] I stared at those words, reading them over and over. I worked hard for three years to buy this property. I worked overtime until I was vomiting blood, I drank myself into the hospital at business dinners, and I came home every night so exhausted that I would collapse straight into bed. And her? She wiped away all my efforts just by saying the baby was not mine. I called her. She answered quickly. "I'm sorry for what I did to you. I'll give you whatever you want." I took a deep breath and asked, "Anything I want?" "Yes." "Then let's get a divorce. You leave with nothing."

When the property manager calls me, I'm in the middle of picking out the curtains for my new home while sitting behind my desk. "Ms. Grant, the moving truck hired by your partner is stuck in the underground garage of the apartment. Do you need help dealing with this incident?" My hand, which is clutching the mouse, freezes at that moment. I haven't even received my keys to my new place. How can I possibly be moving my things there now? "But Matthew showed up with the permission slip that you signed and claimed the keys. Right now, he's carrying the bed into the master suite. "He told me that you've given him permission to let your relative, Ms. Rosalie Sullivan, and her child move into the apartment." Rosalie Sullivan. That name makes my head buzz loudly. I have practically worked myself to the bone for ten years to secure the internal allocation that got me this subsidized apartment in the city center. In fact, I've only received the notification that I'll be receiving this apartment yesterday. To think that Matthew Lowe actually has the audacity to receive the keys behind my back and give the apartment to someone else! As for Rosalie, she's the poor widow left behind by Matthew's best friend. She and her child are also the very same people whom I've personally supported out of my pocket and looked after for three years. I clutch my phone tightly at that moment.

I always had a weakness for handsome men, so I camped out online to grab one of the very first AI incubi. The brand's whole pitch was seduction tuned a hundred percent to its owner's taste. But every time I got within ten minutes of Lucien Crane, he'd force-start a system cleaning cycle, go dark, and idle out. "Master, please don't overuse me. Bacteria buildup can cause a malfunction." Left unsatisfied every single time, I finally went to customer service, and the rep looked as baffled as I felt. "An incubus unit would never break off contact with its owner. We'd recommend restarting him at home." But on the drive back, I happened to scroll past a livestream from my live-in housekeeper. The title sat right there in bold: How a Seasoned Queen Subdues In Her AI Incubus. The lighting was low. The man's earlobes were flushed, and he knelt on one knee, every inch of bared skin crossed with messy whip marks. My housekeeper wiggled her red-painted toes, all smiles. "This one's got real stamina. Five hours straight and he never once tapped out." As the comments poured in, envious, a chill ran through me. So the so-called "cleaning system" was just his excuse to slack off and idle. Behind my back, he was happily playing somebody else's obedient little sub. If he wouldn't serve me the way he was built to, then he could wait to get shipped back to the factory and scrapped for parts.

The day Brianna Lindt is supposed to meet my adoptive parents, her phone stays off the entire day. Just the night before, she confidently promises that, as their future daughter-in-law, she'll win Mom and Dad over. But even after the server comes in for the sixth time to refill our drinks, I still can't reach her. A few hours later, I stumble upon a new post from Brianna's assistant, Elliot Collins. In the photo, Brianna is surrounded by shopping bags full of high-end gifts as she chats over drinks with his family. The caption reads, "My family's been hounding me to get married, so huge thanks to my boss for coming to the rescue and pretending to be my girlfriend." Brianna finally arrives at the restaurant that evening. "Michael, I'm sorry I'm late. Something urgent came up at work, and I had to deal with it." She takes my ice-cold hand in hers and soothes me in a gentle voice. "Knowing I was meeting Mr. and Mrs. Pearson today made me so nervous last night that I completely forgot to plug in my phone, so it stayed dead all day. Can you reschedule with your parents for another time, please?" We've been together for seven years, yet she can't even tell me the truth. Furthermore, the so-called work emergency is merely pretending to be Elliot's girlfriend so he can get his family off his back. Years of built-up disappointment finally spill over. I gently pull my hand away from hers, slip off my engagement ring, and say, "Let's call off the wedding. You can play his girlfriend for the rest of your life."