Cerita Pendek Melodramatic Romance & Novel Bias

It is the last day of my overseas assignment. I suddenly see my girlfriend Stella Leach's Instagram story, which she deletes almost immediately. It shows a private room in a restaurant at the hotel, packed with familiar friends. Its caption says, "Waiting for tonight's guest of honor!" I figure she realizes I changed my flight to an earlier date and is planning a surprise for me. I follow the location tag and rush inside, but the moment I open the door, all the laughter in the private room cuts off. Michael Soden, my childhood friend, is the first to snap out of it. "Welcome back, Henry! We've been waiting so long for you!" Everyone ushers me to take a seat, taking turns proposing toasts to welcome me home. I feel lightheaded after a couple of drinks, so I lean back on the couch and close my eyes, pretending to be asleep. "Henry?" Stella, as usual, pinches my cheek gently to see if I'm really asleep. She covers me with her coat after seeing no reaction from me. I smile faintly. I'm just about to tease her when Michael suddenly asks, "What are we going to do about our wedding in two days, Stella?" Stella immediately lets go of me, turns to him, and takes his hand. "Don't worry. We're still having the wedding as planned." Our friends join in to reassure him. "Henry has no idea, Michael. We're all covering for you, after all. What's there to worry about?" I freeze completely, feeling my blood run cold. I slowly open my eyes to a sliver, my gaze landing on the banner that has been hastily hidden away under the couch. "Happy First Wedding Anniversary, Stella & Michael!"

Lately, Chloe Dunham has been posting photos on social media of late-night meals sent by an anonymous admirer. She was the only single one in our trio of best friends, so I was always the first to like her posts. But whenever I saw the hand-drawn doodles on the meal boxes, I couldn't shake the feeling that they looked exactly like the work of my boyfriend, Jacob Aniston. Chloe once flicked me on the forehead and teased me. "You jealous little thing. Don't go making up stories. The three of us have been friends since we were kids. If Jacob and I were ever going to fall for each other, we'd have gotten together ages ago." I rubbed my forehead and laughed, then let the matter go. That was until the station assigned Jacob and me to cover a typhoon from the front lines, and Chloe insisted on coming along to deliver supplies. Then the levee breached. The three of us ended up stranded atop a swaying communications tower as the floodwaters rose around us. When the water reached our waists, Jacob raised his microphone and faced the camera. He told viewers across the country that this might be his last broadcast. Then he reached out, pulled Chloe in front of the camera, and wrapped the only raincoat around her. "If I have to die, I have no regrets as long as I'm with you. Everyone, you don't need to wait for the next report. Right now, I want to protect the person I care about most." The livestream flooded with messages of congratulations as they held each other and cried. Meanwhile, I huddled in the corner, my lips purple from the cold. I didn't even have the strength to say another word. After the water level finally dropped and the rescue team pulled us to safety, I shook the mud from my clothes and opened the back door of the rescue vehicle. "Don't overthink it. Chloe's physically weaker than you. I was just afraid she'd get hurt," Jacob said.

When a turbulence strikes an airplane that's tens of thousands of miles above ground, the pilot, Kevin Glover, uses the opportunity to confess his love for the co-pilot, Serena Burke. Both of them come clean about their feelings for each other, not knowing that Kevin's wife, Henley Johnstone is on the plane as well. The brimming affection in Kevin's tone hurts her ears. "Serena, I'll marry you." At the same time, Henley's son, Isaac Glover, who sits in the row in front of her, pipes up in a disgusted tone, "My mom isn't worthy of remaining as my mom. I want Serena to be my mom instead." Henley feels crushed and defeated. Sorrow overwhelms her senses as well. Once the plane overcomes the crisis and lands on the tarmac, she calls her assistant, Edith Pratt. "I want to sign up as the test subject of the death-faking pill. I don't want my husband and son anymore." Henley sets the date of her death on her wedding anniversary. Once all preparations are done, she takes the death-faking pill. When she wakes up, she'll embrace her new life. Some time later, when Kevin finds out about Henley's death, he wails like a madman.

My husband's true love developed acute kidney failure, and I was the only matching donor. To save her life, he forced me to terminate my pregnancy at six months. Despite his gentle tone, he said the most heart-wrenching words, "Can't you be a little kinder? You're just losing a child, but she's losing her life." I resisted with every fiber of my being, but he threatened his own life to force my hand. On the operating table, both my child and I died. Meanwhile, his true love's transplant was a success, and she lived. Although the outcome was exactly what he wanted, he spiraled into madness upon hearing news of my death.

Josie Collins and I were supposed to get married during the upcoming long holidays, but she suddenly wanted to postpone our wedding for another month, and she asked that I wait a little longer. As I had nothing else to do during the holidays, I took up a job as a wedding driver. What I did not expect was that the bride I was picking up was Josie. She wore the wedding dress my mother made for her as her ex-boyfriend, William Locke, carried her in his arms. Everyone started yelling, "Kiss her!" Josie smiled and kissed him on the cheek. When she saw me sitting in the car, she panicked. "What are you doing here?" However, she frowned almost immediately and started blaming me. "William's grandmother is suffering from dementia and thinks that we're still together. She has always wanted us to get married, so I'm helping her to make her wish come true. "Why would you come after us all this way? Can you stop being such a schemer and wipe those dirty thoughts from your mind?!" William helped her lift the heavy skirt. "Don't be mad, Sam. I'm just the groom for one day. Josie will still be yours in the end." I stared at her wedding dress. Every thread on it was sewn by my mother before she died, and she had always wanted to see Josie put it on to marry me. However, Josie made me wait, and I did. I waited until my mother breathed her last, and still, she did not witness my wedding. Now, Josie was using the wedding dress my mother made to fulfil someone else's wish. This time, I no longer wanted to wait for her.

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.

Natalie Shaw, the dance company's new understudy, slipped razor blades into my practice outfit and left my back slashed and bloody. My boyfriend, Derek Mercer, the theater's associate director, sent her makeup case skidding across the room with one furious kick. "Touch her again, and I'll end you!" Natalie was thrown out of the rehearsal room, her eyes rimmed red. After that, she didn't just refuse to back down. She hired a few thugs to corner me in the alley behind the theater. Derek threw himself in front of me to block a steel pipe, fracturing his arm. Everyone said Derek would die for me. Then, at a sponsors' dinner the night before the tour, I drank a glass of wine Natalie handed me. Within minutes, my limbs went slack and my skin began to burn. I dragged myself into a storage closet at the end of the hall, only to hear Natalie's syrupy voice just outside the door. "The way you took that beating for her two days ago almost broke my heart. But..." Fabric rustled, and Natalie giggled. "Back in the private dining room, you watched me slip something into her drink. You knew those sponsors had cameras ready and were waiting for her. And you just stepped out for a smoke." "You let me destroy her reputation, so the principal role is mine now. Right?" Derek said nothing. He only pinned her against the door. The door vibrated slightly, striking a heavy blow against my heart. He had already given his heart to someone else.

I rarely went to the office. My dad had left the company to me, but I couldn't be bothered with the hassle, so three years ago, I handed it over to Elina Chandler to run. She was my mistress, the one I held closest to my heart. Her $20,000 monthly allowance arrived like clockwork, and I had bought her both a car and a house. Whatever she wanted, I had never once told her no. She probably saw me as nothing more than a spoiled rich kid who couldn't be bothered to manage his own business. Today, I happened to stop by for once. I'd barely sat down when a young man pushed open the door and looked me up and down. "Which department are you in? You don't even show up two days a month. We don't keep idle people around. Pack your things and get out." I stared at him, stunned. His name was Lance Compton, a manager Elina had recently promoted. Just then, Elina walked over and gave me a casual glance. "He's no one important. If you want to fire him, fire him." I walked out of the office. A moment later, my phone buzzed with a message from Elina. [Don't sulk. I'll come over tonight and make it up to you.] I stared at the message and laughed.

Ever since I got pregnant, stepping on the scale has been my biggest fear. My husband, Greyson Lewis, had a rule: if I weighed even a little more than I had the week before, he’d cut off my living expenses for the following week. He said our friends had been laughing at him ever since I got pregnant, mocking him for marrying a pig. Of all days, I happened to gain two pounds on the day of my anatomy scan. The bill came to $1,680, but he’d locked me out of both my bank card and the supplementary card he’d given me. When we got home, Greyson made me a plate of boiled vegetables, without even a single ear of corn. "Eat less for a couple of days. Corn and potatoes are carbs, too. You need to lose weight as quickly as possible." But in the middle of the night, I was so hungry I couldn’t sleep. I sneaked $20 out of his pocket and went to grab a late-night burger and fries. I’d barely eaten half when the police caught me. "Your husband called to report that you stole his money." Greyson rushed over and frowned at me. "So now you’ve learned to steal, too? Can’t you control your pig-like appetite for once?" Suddenly, I was just so tired of it all. I held out my hands. "Yes, I stole the money. Take me away." The officer stared at me in surprise, but Greyson only sneered. "Good. Let her spend a couple of days in jail. Maybe then she’ll stop thinking about food all day." I lowered my eyes to my swollen belly and suddenly laughed. He was right. How much weight could I lose just by eating less? Wouldn’t I lose it much faster if I got rid of the baby?

My girlfriend used to answer every call I made. Then her first love came back to town. Since then, she’d begun ignoring my calls. The first time, she rolled out a red carpet at the airport to welcome that man home. With cameras flashing around her, she glanced at my name on her phone and let it ring. The second time, she was throwing him a birthday party while I sat alone at the restaurant where we'd agreed to meet. I waited until the staff locked up for the night. And then came the hundredth call. Acute appendicitis had left me in so much pain I could barely stay conscious, but I managed to dial her number one last time. All I heard was the same automated message: "The number you dailed is busy now..." I later learned she'd been celebrating a major contract win with him at a restaurant overlooking the city. He even posted a picture of them together. "Thanks for making me your top priority," his caption read. Someone commented, "You two are practically a couple already. When are you making it official?" He replied with a blushing emoji. By the time she reached the hospital, my surgery was over. She smelled of another man's tobacco smoke. "Sorry. I couldn't get away from the business dinner," she told me. "You know he just moved back. He needs my help getting established. I promise it won't happen again." The anesthesia hadn't fully worn off, but somehow I managed a polite smile. "Okay," I said. Don't worry. There won't be a next time. Not for us.

The heart that I had waited two years for was given to the fake heiress, Diane Bishop, by my husband. The doctor said that I only had a week left to live. So, I decided to undergo cryonics. I donated my body to Diane’s workshop. The day I signed the donation papers, my son threw himself into my arms and exclaimed that I had finally made up with Diane. My parents praised me for finally being a good sister to help out Diane. My husband was pleased when he said that I had finally let go of the grudge and had become more understanding. I chuckled. They were right, I had finally learned my lesson. I would give Diane my identity as the heir of Bishop Corporation and fulfill everyone’s wishes.

I was always a step behind, while Ryan Walker, my childhood friend, and Claire Morgan, my best friend, were always in a rush. Whenever we ate together, they would finish before I was even halfway through. Then they would start talking about heading to the gaming lounge next door and leave me sitting alone in the restaurant. Once, while we were swimming, my leg cramped halfway across the pool. I called out for help, only to realize they had already gotten out and left. When it was time to submit our college applications, I had not even logged in when they submitted theirs and got up to leave. "Wendy, you take forever. I need to help Claire snag concert tickets, so we're leaving without you. "Claire and I both applied to Eastbridge University. Make sure you apply there too." As soon as Ryan finished speaking, Claire grabbed his arm and pulled him toward the door. They left in such a hurry that he never heard me say, "I'm not applying to Eastbridge University. "You won't ever have to wait for me again."

At our daughter’s three-month milestone party, my husband Garrett’s so-called "best friend" publicly humiliated me. “Hey, Vivian. I heard you're a little loose down there after popping out the kid.” "If it's that bad, you better get some tightening surgery quick—don't wanna mess up your marriage vibes!" Garrett shot her a playful glare and snapped, "Knock it off, Scarlett! You can't just say whatever pops into your head." Then he turned to me with a breezy shrug. "She's just like that—total tomboy. We grew up together; she means no harm." Scarlett shook her half-exposed breast and pouted, "Oh, come on, don't take it personally, Vivian. Honestly, I'm kind of jealous of you." "See, my problem is the opposite. I'm way too tight—hurts like hell during my period. No clue who's gonna get lucky with this later." Then she cut her eyes toward Garrett with a playful wink. " Oh right, you've tried it before, haven't you?" The room went dead silent. Every pair of eyes drifted toward me, barely concealing their curiosity. I smiled, set down my wine glass, and looked at Scarlett with fake concern. "That's strange. I don't remember making it that tight when I did your surgery."

At the company's annual event, an oddly shaped necklace tumbled out of my wife's purse. It was engraved with her friend's initials, L.L. To protect his privacy, Camille Sinclair announced our secret seven-year marriage right there in front of everyone. She pulled me up on stage and gave the cameras a shy little smile. "Those letters are my husband's initials, Liam Locke. It's got nothing to do with anyone else." After the show ended, I let go of her hand and quietly begged, "I did what you wanted. Now can I get my mom's medication for this month?" That was when her best friend, Logan Lane, showed up carrying a box stuffed full of erectile dysfunction pills. He made sure the whole room heard him as he said, "Hey, bro, before you worry about your mother's illness, maybe worry about getting it up first. Camille's always complaining to me that you can't get the job done. She can't keep using toys to get by, can she?" The spotlight swung onto me, and thousands of people burst out laughing. By the next afternoon, I was the laughingstock of the entire industry. I was known as the husband who couldn't perform. Camille savored the sight of me falling apart. "Honey, you should learn some gratitude. Why don't you thank Logan?" I walked out under everyone's mocking stares. When I got back to the hospital, I found my dying mother hanging from the ceiling fan. Clutched in her hand was a suicide note, stained with blood. [Don't waste money treating me anymore. Don't beg her for anything ever again. Don't let her make you suffer another day.]

On our eighteenth attempt to get married, Miles Corbett stopped the ceremony again because I began my vow a fraction too late. He looked completely disappointed in me. "You know I'm a perfectionist. Why can't you follow the wedding schedule exactly? "If you miss the timing again, maybe you should let your best friend take your place." My best friend, Audrey Sloan, was famous for always being perfectly on time, so Miles used her as the standard I was expected to match. If I reached the curb one minute after Audrey at the end of the workday, he drove away with her and left me behind. If I entered the restaurant half a step later than she did on Valentine's Day, he gave her the candlelit dinner that was supposed to be mine. If I reached the airport twenty seconds after her before our annual vacation, he canceled my ticket and traveled with Audrey instead. Even at our wedding, he had stopped the ceremony seventeen times and used Audrey to rehearse my role seventeen times. To make the eighteenth attempt succeed, I filled the venue with more than a hundred synchronized countdown clocks and practiced every cue for over two hundred nights. But ten seconds before my vow was due, Audrey jumped the cue and said "I do" first. Miles ignored both me and the synchronized clocks and canceled the wedding for the eighteenth time. The problem had never been my timing; the problem was that the bride was not her. So I finally decided to give his perfectionism what it wanted. Miles took Audrey's hand again. "Watch carefully. We'll demonstrate it one more time." I smiled and slid the wedding rings onto their fingers. "No demonstration needed. I wish you both a lifetime of happiness."

Rosalie Quinn is known as Nelmora's most beautiful woman, with a bold, free-spirited streak to match. She's having the time of her life abroad when an urgent telegram arrives from her father. It contains just one curt line. "Come home at once. Marry Nathaniel Farrell." Nathaniel is one of the military's youngest and most promising officers. Cool, aloof, and fiercely disciplined, he couldn't be more different from Rosalie. She thrives on excitement. He prefers peace and quiet. She does as she pleases, no matter how outrageous. He follows military regulations to the letter. She changes boyfriends as often as she changes clothes. He's so uninterested in women that he's never even held a female soldier's hand. The thought of marrying someone so straitlaced is enough to make Rosalie feel trapped. Determined to avoid the marriage, she tries every trick she can think of to make sure the wedding never happens.

Before our graduation trip, three of my childhood friends and my boyfriend all come to me, one after another, asking to borrow money. Drake Owens claims he needs it for his startup, Evans Harding says his mother has been hospitalized, and Finley Booker mentions an overdue credit card bill. Finally, my boyfriend, Boaz Marshall, takes the money I had spent three years saving for my heart surgery. With reddened eyes, he says, "I only need it for two weeks, Ari. I swear on my life that I won't let it interfere with your surgery at all." Then came the day my heart condition flared up again. The doctor slams my test results onto the table and says in a grave voice, "You can't put this off any longer, Ms. Dawson. You need to pay the hospital fees and get admitted immediately." But after lending out 260 thousand dollars, I'm only left with 327 bucks in my bank account. I call each of them, but they all claim the funds haven't come through yet and ask me to wait a little longer. I pass by a travel agency on my way home. Through the glass, I see Boaz, Drake, Evans, and Finley gathered around my best friend, Cindy Myers, planning a trip to the Northern Pole. Five plane tickets are spread out on the table. "Who would have thought that this would be the trick that worked after all? We just had to drain her of all her cash, and she wouldn't be able to pester us to tag along anymore." "Arianna has a bad heart. She'll only be nothing but a burden. It's better just to leave her at home." "Exactly. This trip is for Cindy's birthday. There's no reason to let one person ruin the mood for everyone else." After a brief burst of laughter, someone asks, sounding a bit hesitant, "But that was money for her heart surgery. What if she has an attack in the next few days?" Boaz hands a brochure for a mountain resort to Cindy, completely unconcerned. "She's lived with that condition for years. It's not like something's going to coincidentally happen right now when we're away. We'll just pay her back once we return from the trip." Boaz happens to look up just then, facing the window. The moment he sees me, however, the smile on his face freezes.

My fiancé, Lucas Vance, had an absolute rule: he never, under any circumstances, answered a phone call after 9:00 p.m. Even during the most passionate days of our relationship, he would hang up without hesitation the second the clock struck nine. One night, I came home late and realized a stranger was tailing me in the dark. Panic-stricken, I called Lucas, only to be met with a voice dripping with utter annoyance. "Can you learn to respect my schedule for once? I'm hanging up." That night, I sat alone in the cold lights of the police station, filling out a police report by myself. Yet, back then, I convinced myself I didn't even have the right to blame him. But tonight, while using his laptop, I accidentally stumbled across his synced call logs. There, staring back at me, was a continuous record spanning from 9:00 p.m. to 9:00 a.m. the following morning. 12 hours straight. Every night. For five long years. I knew the number perfectly. It belonged to his mother's star student and his trusted teaching assistant. For a moment, my spine felt stiff. I sat frozen in front of the screen until my legs went numb. Then, without a word, I shut the laptop and canceled our upcoming appointment to register our marriage. That late-night line was never meant for me. And I no longer wanted to wait.

While shopping at the mall, a child suddenly slams into my five-month pregnant belly. Blood immediately pools on the floor. With trembling hands, I call my boyfriend, Garrett Holloway, and beg him to come get me as quickly as possible. But even after I am rushed into surgery and finally pulled back from the brink, he never shows up. But through the glass, I see him helping another woman into the hospital for a prenatal checkup. "She only stumbled a little, and her husband got so worried. He brought her to the hospital right away. Some people are just luckier than others. Not everyone gets a man who cares for them so attentively." Listening to the nurses whisper among themselves, I tighten my grip on the miscarriage report in my hand. Then, I send a message to my family. I write, "Mom, I'll go with your arrangement. I'm not marrying Garrett anymore."

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