Cerita Pendek Plot Twists Romance & Novel Bias

In our most loving year, Hugh Thorne and I make a pact that neither of us will ever ask for a divorce—because whoever does will end his or her own life. I immediately grab a pair of scissors and stab him in the neck when he first tells me that he wants to give Beatrice Lane, my heartbroken best friend, a home. He repeatedly brings up divorce over the next two years, while I repeatedly refuse to let him go. Then, after his 99th attempt to get a divorce fails, Hugh jumps into the river. Everyone claims I am a madwoman and a jinx who killed her husband. Mom and Dad cut ties with me and take in Beatrice as their goddaughter. I am completely on my own after that. I work three jobs a day to make ends meet and raise Nicholas White, the child Hugh and I share. It is the third year after Hugh's death, and I receive a call from a former classmate of mine. "Are you coming to the class reunion this weekend, Mia? Hugh will be there too." In that instant, my mind goes completely blank. I can barely hold the phone because my hand is shaking so hard. It turns out that Hugh is still alive! My former classmate excitedly explains over the phone, "We're doing something different this time! Everyone has to bring something that will surprise the others, and whoever loses has to pay for the meal!" I have to bring something that will surprise everyone, huh? I hang up the phone and instantly arrange for someone to draft a divorce agreement for me.

For ten years, he remained tangled up with her, and everyone in their circle laughed at him for being her forever backup plan. She had once said, “The housekeeper’s son? He’s fun to mess around with, but marry him? Not a chance.” No one noticed him standing just outside the door. With his fists clenched and his eyes burning red, he turned and walked away. That very day, he married someone else.

I worked night shifts for three straight months, finally saving enough to cover the cost of a bone marrow transplant for my fiancé Vance Dalton's younger sister, Margot. When I arrived at the VIP ward with a bank card containing $300,000, I saw Vance leaning down to kiss his so-called sister. My best friend, Bridget Lewis, was standing beside them, recording the whole thing on her phone. "Margot, that stupid woman just sent another $50,000. Your European vacation fund is fully stocked." Bridget giggled beside them. "Of course she did. She eats expired instant noodles every day and still thinks she's out there saving the world." I stared at them, gripping the freshly signed house-sale agreement so tightly that its edge cut into my palm.

Juliet Sutton has always been hopelessly devoted. But the day her first love is diagnosed with cancer, she hands me a pill that can make someone forget. She says, "Matthew, Wilson doesn't have much time left. Give me three days. Let me give him the wedding he always dreamed of. "I won't break your heart. This pill only causes temporary memory loss. Once the ceremony is over, you take the antidote, fall in love with me again, and then we'll remarry." Seeing the resolve in her eyes, I take the pill and swallow it without hesitation. What Juliet doesn't know is that I'm the one who developed the pill. There is no antidote. In three days, I'll forget her completely.

For the seven years that my boyfriend, Jason Carpenter, has been suffering from an avoidant attachment disorder, he has never once initiated a conversation with me. It doesn't matter whether I'm discussing something major or trivial with him. His only responses to me are either "1", to mean that he agrees, or "2", to mean that he disagrees. Even when I hold up a pregnancy test showing two lines right in front of his face, he merely hums in a flat tone before turning around and heading off to work. My best friend, Stella Powell, once tried talking sense into me. She said, "A man like that is worse than an air conditioner. He doesn't care whether you're feeling hot or cold. What's even the point of being with him?" I touched the ring on my finger and smiled. "He's just sick. He doesn't know how to express himself well. But I know that he cares about me deep down." However, one month later, things change on my birthday when I arrive late to the restaurant. From a distance, I can see Jason sitting right next to Stella, literally pressing himself close to her. I see the man who's always ice-cold to me beaming at her while tenderly wiping away the raindrops on her face. She also has his jacket draped over her shoulders. I look away and glance at my phone. I sent him a text message just earlier, asking, "Jason, it's pouring, but I didn't bring an umbrella. Could you please come and pick me up?" "2". I stand frozen to the spot. Suddenly, it strikes me. I am the one who's truly sick. I'm the one who's sick with a blindness that has been keeping me from seeing the truth all along.

I have a terrible sense of direction. Despite having lived in Gaturnia for five years, I'm still unable to find my way around. Winona Sinclair is always helping me set up my navigation beforehand and vows to lead the way for me for the rest of our lives. On the day of our wedding ceremony, we are going up Mt. Harlow when she suddenly says that she left the rings in the trunk of the car. I'm barely a step out of the car when the lock engages with a click. Then, I notice the driver glance at Winona through the rearview mirror, as though he received the orders ahead of time. In the next second, the car speeds into the thick fog, swiftly vanishing from my sight. Subsequently, Winona sends me a voice message. "Go 999 steps forward, and you'll arrive at a fork in the road. George says that you won't even be able to find the wedding venue without me with you, but I don't believe that. Simon, don't make me lose this bet." George Yangley is Winona's ex-boyfriend. I had a new pair of leather shoes custom-made for this occasion, so they chafe at my feet as I walk. By the time I reach two thousand steps, I realize that I'm completely lost. Only then do I call Winona's phone. However, it's George who answers it. "You know how directionally challenged he is, yet you still had him walk here himself. What are you going to do if he ends up wandering the mountain for hours and can't make it in time for the wedding?" Winona replies casually, "Then we start the ceremony first, and you can stand in for him for the photos and toasts. He's bound to find his way here eventually." Just then, a photo pops up in the group chat we set up for the wedding. George is standing beside Winona, carrying the box holding our rings in his hands—the box she lied to me about being in the trunk of the car. As it turns out, those 999 steps are simply paving the way for him. Taking off my leather shoes, I toss them over the side of the mountain. It is time for me to change directions on this path I'm walking.

At the banquet to welcome her home from her studies abroad, my fiancee, Sienna Vaughn, shows up hand-in-hand with her foreign boyfriend, Jacques Castillo. She announces that she is calling off our engagement. Her parents, Harold Vaughn and Marissa Jenning, beg desperately for me to try to win her back, for the sake of all those years we spent together during our childhood. But this time, I refuse. "Let's end the engagement. From today onward, we'll go our separate ways," I say. … In my previous life, I had taken pity on Harold and Marissa and sincerely tried to keep Sienna by my side. In the end, she agreed to marry me. But three years later, my shares were siphoned away, my company went bankrupt, and I was left with massive debts. Unable to handle the burden, my parents, Ralph Hale and Emily Pierce, passed away. Sienna, nestled in Jacques' arms, spat, "You owe me this!" … Now that I am given a second chance at life, I return to the very day she returned from abroad. This time, she can marry whoever she wants. She thinks that I'm marrying her to save my company from ruin. But little does she know that the one really headed for bankruptcy is her family.

After I failed the mission, the system began to unravel my memories, thread by thread. I was done letting my world revolve around Theodore Calloway like I used to. And I was done trying to stop him from moving his cousin into his home to take care of her for the rest of his life. It was meant to be the perfect ending for everyone. But when I died, Theodore’s desperation drove him to the edge of madness, and he begged for one final glimpse of me. I thought our story had ended there. Then, the system dragged me back to save a world that was already starting to fall apart. When I returned to the Calloway Residence with my son, Theodore hurried toward me, a little boy clutching his hand. His eyes were red-rimmed, his voice unsteady. "Amanda, are you leaving us?" I blinked. Because to me, they were nothing but strangers.

It all started when my fiancée's adoptive brother, Afton Jackson, claimed I had used a dirty scalpel in his private parts enlargement surgery, and that had given him Syphilis. My fiancée, Mia Jackson, flew into a rage. She stomped on the hand I had used to perform surgery. Then, she stripped me naked, forced me into humiliating poses, and put me up for auction on the black market for free. [Second-hand. Free.] Her best friend tried to talk her out of it. "You and Ryan Hathaway are about to get married. Are you really going to destroy him like this?" Mia's voice was calm. "He operated on Afton so recklessly and made Afton break down after catching that disease. Afton almost jumped off a building, yet he still refuses to admit what he did. He doesn't deserve to be a doctor. I'm only trying to scare him. It's not like I'm really going to give him away and let him catch some filthy disease too." I stood in the doorway, my face pale. When our eyes met, she spoke as if every word were justified. "You made a mistake, so you deserve to suffer for just a little while. As long as you cure Afton and then apologize to him, you'll still be the fiancé I love most." I silently held back my tears and reposted the auction link to my feed. It was claimed in seconds with a single comment. [I'll take him.] But Mia's face darkened as she threw the wine glass to the floor.

During Christmas dinner, my mother-in-law hinted for the umpteenth time that she wanted a grandchild. However, my husband, Zachary Cole, who had insisted on staying child-free in the past decade, only smiled and filled her plate. After dinner, he slipped onto the balcony. "There, there. Daddy will come see you on New Year's Day," he whispered. I stood in the corner of the living room with a glass of water in my hand, feeling cold as the words sank in. I stepped forward and forced a playful tone. "I just heard you say 'Daddy.' Got a secret kid stashed somewhere?" He rubbed his nose, his voice stiff. "You must've misheard. That's… just a friend's kid." My heart sank. I'd been married to him for a decade, so I knew exactly what he looked like when he was lying.

After being reborn, I deliberately avoid every possible connection with Zachary Lawson. When he enrolls at Prestwick University, I choose to study abroad in Norell instead. When he comes all the way to Norell looking for me, I travel even farther, moving from place to place as a war correspondent. Years later, I return home hand in hand with the person I love to have our wedding. Zachary is stopped outside the venue, his eyes red-rimmed. "Why don't you love me anymore?"

On my birthday, my boyfriend Heath Merrick sent me a transfer of 200 dollars, same as always. The note read: [Birthday gift for Macy. Too busy lately, so I won't be around to celebrate with you.] A second later, I saw a message my best friend, Kyra Donnelly, had accidentally sent to our four-person group chat. [Fourth birthday we've spent together! Thank you, Brody and Heath, for the gifts!] The photo attached was a cake topper, a miniature figurine made of two ounces of solid gold. Less than a minute after the message appeared, my brother, Brody Lawton and also the group admin, deleted it for her. He tried to cover it up by flooding the chat with a string of GIFs, then casually typed a new message as if nothing had happened. [It's Kyra's and Macy's birthday today. Let's go eat at Sorelli's? Kyra's been wanting to try their food for ages, and I just managed to snag a reservation.] Before I could even respond, my boyfriend and my best friend had already sent back thumbs-up stickers in perfect sync. I quietly deleted the half-typed message that read: [Their food is too spicy for me.] I sent a thumbs-up sticker of my own. The front door opened, and all three of them appeared in the doorway together. Brody rushed me. "Hurry up, everyone's waiting for you!" Heath frowned. "Stop dawdling. We'll lose the reservation." No one mentioned the message Kyra had accidentally posted. I looked at the three of them, at how naturally my brother and my boyfriend stood on either side of Kyra. One of them was weighed down with shopping bags full of clothes she had bought. The other had both hands full of her snacks and drinks. The whole thing suddenly felt completely pointless. I unlocked my phone and sent a message to my advisor: [Professor, I've decided to accept the exchange program abroad.]

Auremont City's most prominent heir, Huxton Dunne, was finally back on his feet after three years of paralysis. His friends threw him a party at a private club. Margo Myer stood outside the door, clutching a gift she'd picked out just for him. Before she could walk in, she heard voices inside. "Dude, Margo basically got you back on your feet. You wouldn't be here without her." "For real. Three years of rehab, massages, barely any sleep because she was scared something might happen to you at night? You owe her forever." "She really is amazing," Huxton said. Margo's fingers tightened around the gift. Warmth filled her heart. Then one of his friends asked, "So... when are you gonna marry her?"

During the summer break, I took my daughter, Stella Quinton, to a private beach that I own for some fun and some scuba diving. That's when Felicity Portman, a famous actress, barges into the beach with a group flocking behind her. "This is a private beach that Micah has given me permission to entertain VIP clients at! Hurry up and get lost, you filthy commoners!" The arrogant Felicity has the gall to bring up my husband, Micah Morrison, just to threaten me. When she finds out about my identity, she even makes fun of me for being a useless woman who relies on him for survival. I'm furious, to say the least. As the heiress to the richest family in Seacrest City, how am I a useless woman who relies on men for survival? Also, I'm the one who gave Micah his movie company and all of his resources! But when Micah reaches the beach, he works with Felicity to coerce my darling Stella into putting on a diving performance for a lecherous investor. With a sneer on my face, I summon the Seashark Special Forces, who only take orders from the most elite members of Seacrest City. "Seashark Special Forces, come to Moonrise Bay right now and clear out the area!"

My executive boyfriend's newly hired assistant caused trouble again. All because a client mentioned he was afraid of snakes, she sent him a king cobra as "exposure therapy." The client was bitten and nearly died. Because of that, the company lost a multimillion-dollar project and had to pay two million in medical compensation. Following the board's decision, I fired her on the spot. My boyfriend did not object. In fact, he cooperated with me throughout the paperwork. One year later, at the celebration party for Grant Hale's promotion to CEO, I saw that same assistant again, dressed head to toe in luxury, standing beside him. Before I could react, Grant threw a termination agreement at me and announced in front of everyone that Chloe Vance would be taking over my position. His eyes were full of hatred as he gritted out, "Natalie, I have waited countless nights for this day. Didn't you love firing people? "How does it feel to be fired in public?" Everyone thought I would make a scene. Instead, I laughed, calmly removed my employee badge, and walked out. What Grant did not know was that the only reason he had been able to sit in the CEO's chair was because I had guaranteed him. The moment I left, every ounce of power in his hands would be revoked. His good days were officially over.

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."

My father-in-law, Lawrence Richards, suddenly becomes gravely ill. After seeing the exorbitant medical fees, I call up my wife, Victoria Richards. She doesn't ask questions and instructs her people to transfer five million dollars to my bank account. But even as Lawrence is prepped for surgery, the money doesn't show up. Out in the hospital hallway, I repeatedly call Victoria, but my calls go unanswered. Finally, the 7th call gets connected. "Tori! The surgery's about to start, and Dad's in a lot of pain right now. Please tell the finance department to hurry! He's—" The call gets cut off. I continue to wait. In the end, all I receive is the official death verification from the hospital, confirming that Lawrence has died. I also see a photo of a ridiculously expensive watch that Victoria's assistant, Simon Lewis, uploads to his social media. "I only said that I fancied it, and Ms. Richards gives me five million dollars without any hesitation! Now that's a boss I will happily serve for life." Victoria finally sends me a message. "The finance department needs some time to clear the transaction. Can't your dad just wait a little longer?" I looked at my dad, who was waiting outside the operating room with me. It now occurs to me that Victoria has assumed that it's my dad who died.

My father was one of the best scientists in the world, and he was kidnapped. Three days later, they found his corpse by the river. I kept vigil for an entire night. Henry Franke, my husband, pitied me and swore to find the murderer so that he could help me take revenge, but after the funeral, I heard the university student he was sponsoring say, “Henry, I just couldn’t stand Professor Smith insulting me during his lecture, and I wanted to scare him a bit. I wasn’t expecting the kidnappers to kill him. I don’t want to go to jail!” Henry sighed. “You were too impulsive, but Professor Smith was in the wrong too. I’ll get this settled for you, but I suppose Luna won’t get her revenge.” I felt my mind go blank in shock, but I suppressed my rage and left quietly. What Henry did not know was that the medicine that could help him stand again had eight doses. The first seven were all slow-acting toxins, and only the last one was the antidote that could truly cure him. However, they had killed the only person who could create the antidote.

When my wife's lover changed the locks on our house for the ninth time and locked us out again, there was finally a hint of irritation on her face. I, on the other hand, calmly reassured her. "He's young. He doesn't know any better. Don't get worked up over it." Yvonne Fisher, who was about to break the lock open, froze mid-swing and turned to stare at me. "Aren't you angry?" I was at a loss for words. Throughout our five years of marriage, things like this had happened so often that if I'd kept getting angry, I would've died from it by now. Besides, my own lover was just as much of a handful. All I felt for Yvonne was sympathy.

Ever since I was little, my taste buds seemed off. Whenever my family shared a watermelon, the others all raved about how sweet and refreshing it was. Yet no matter how many times I tasted it, the watermelon always struck me as bland, with a faint trace of sourness. I could never bring myself to enjoy it. Eventually, I stopped eating watermelon altogether. That was until the new summer break, when I dragged my heavy suitcase home, drenched in sweat, and spotted several slices of watermelon sitting on the table. To quench my thirst, I picked up a slice and popped it into my mouth. A burst of rich, sugary juice immediately exploded across my tongue. Just as I caught myself wondering when watermelon had ever tasted this amazing, my sister saw it and snatched the tray right out of my hand. "Why are you eating Buster's watermelon?" "What? Who is Buster?" She pointed to the number labeled on the tray. "Buster is the puppy I got this year. You're not Number 5 in this house anymore. Buster is!" In our family, everyone had a designated number. My dad was Number 1. My mom was Number 2. My brother was Number 3. My sister was Number 4, and I was Number 5. Before I could even process that my number had been handed off to a dog, my mother stepped into the living room. Spotting me, she said cheerfully, "Oh, you're eating watermelon again? That's great! Now those rinds won't go to waste anymore." Looking down at the watermelon rinds tossed in the trash can, I finally understood. There was never anything wrong with my taste buds. It was simply that over all these years, the sweet, tender heart of the watermelon—and the love tucked inside it—had never once been given to me. That very evening, I signed the agreement to join the Mistolstone Research Institution. I'd never return home where I was treated worse than a dog.