Plot Twists Romance 단편 소설 & Bias Regret 소설

When I'm having dinner at home, I find out that my childhood sweetheart, Drew Calloway, has given up on the opportunity to get promoted to the northern military camp for the sake of my cousin, Brynn Jeffries. "Brynn can only attend a local college because of her SAT results. It so happens that Mrs. Ward is in poor health as well. I've already filled in the details on your college form, Lena. We'll both stay here." My mom goes along with the flow. "That's right. I promised your uncle that I'd take good care of Brynn, so you must help me take care of her too. You should forget about Northgate University, seeing as it's useless to pursue an education there. When you marry Drew in the future, you'll be a military wife who stays in the military camp with him." Before I can say anything, Brynn's eyes well up with tears. She starts crying as though she's the one feeling aggrieved. "It's my fault for being useless. My parents are no longer around. Because of that, Lena can't attend her dream university. You should just leave me be. I'm fine staying here all by myself." As soon as Brynn starts crying, Drew and Mom fly into a state of panic and start comforting her. As for me, I rise to my feet and return to my room quietly. Thankfully, I'm able to change my desired institution back to Northgate University one second before the deadline. Honestly speaking, the reason I want to attend Northgate University isn't just so that I can be closer to Drew in terms of distance. I also wish to watch the heavy snowfall with him. If we walk together in the snow with snowflakes covering our heads, it symbolizes the possibility of us spending the rest of our lives together till we're old and gray. Well, it doesn't matter who's standing next to me when I watch the snowfall now. My only wish is that I must watch the snowfall no matter what.

During the loneliest year of my life, I start bankrolling my sweet, innocent girlfriend, Grace Bishop. When I later decide to go abroad to recover from my illness, she cries by my bedside all night. Still, I refuse to let her come with me. "Staying here is crucial for your career. I hope that when I'm back, you'll have already received the Best Actress award." Three years later, she does get crowned Best Actress of the Year. But when I'm finally back, there's no sign of the welcome she had promised. Instead, I see a guy who seems as close to her as family lounging around my mansion in my clothes, acting as if the place belongs to him. Daniel Greene toys with my priceless emerald ring. "You should thank me for letting you see the kind of wealth you could only dream of. But looking is all you get. Don't touch a single thing. You'll never be able to afford the damage." I yank my ring off his finger and slap him across the face. "I just touched something. Now what?"

My girlfriend of ten years, Whitney Lovell, was the company's CEO. She claimed business was slow and cut my salary in half. Then I came across a post from her assistant, Jude Horton, bragging on social media about how lucky he was. [My boss gave me a raise and even bought me a luxury car so I wouldn't have to tire myself out commuting to work. She's so sweet!] The photo showed him and Whitney standing together in front of his brand-new luxury car, looking like a happy couple. I thought it over for a moment, then hit the like button. That afternoon, Whitney called an emergency meeting. She accused me of creating trouble at work and withheld my entire month's salary. Then she handed the money to Jude as compensation for the emotional distress I had supposedly caused him. My coworkers looked at me with sympathy. They expected me to fly into a rage and make a scene. Instead, I quietly packed up my desk and placed my resignation letter in front of Whitney. "Docking my pay for mistreating a coworker isn't nearly enough. I'll save you the trouble and resign."

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.

On the day my twin sister, Alexia Cavanaugh, and I turn 22, I collapse and find out that I have late-stage cancer. Ignoring the doctor's advice to be admitted, I walk out of the hospital. All I want is to spend one final birthday with my family without a single worry. But when I arrive at the party, a server stops me at the door and tells me the venue has been reserved exclusively for Alexia. Outsiders aren't allowed in. Through the glass, I watch as my brother holds a cake and my father places a birthday hat on Alexia's head. Even my boyfriend is there, smiling as Alexia makes a wish. I stand there for half an hour, gripping my phone, before my boyfriend finally answers my call. "I was just at the hospital. I—" He cuts me off. "Ophelia, you've always been healthy. It's Lexi's birthday today. We should talk later." Isn't today my birthday too? My mother died giving birth to me. The doctor later explained that I deprived Alexia of nutrients before birth, which left her frail from the start. And just like that, everyone decided I should always step aside for my twin, who was born five minutes before me. I ball up the report with my cancer diagnosis and toss it in the trash. I'm done letting their favoritism hurt me. I've never received their love anyway, so I choose to leave for good.

After seven years of marriage, my wife told me she would no longer share a bed with me. She said she was frigid. Once, after getting drunk, she ended up crossing that line with me. When she sobered up and realized what had happened, she locked herself in the bathroom and scrubbed herself clean for three days, sick with disgust the entire time. Later, she came back and demanded that I get a vasectomy if I wanted our dead bedroom to come back to life. I agreed, but I never went through with it. When her belly eventually began to show, the woman who had once worshiped the DINK lifestyle suddenly started looking forward to the arrival of that child. I told her I lied about the vasectomy. She said nothing about it, but for two weeks after that, I was beaten up, stripped and thrown at the company's entrance, kidnapped and strapped to a roulette while perverts enjoyed the show like I was a monkey. … By the time I escaped from the hospital, I was already barely holding on. Then I saw her lying in the arms of her old classmate, calmly ending the pregnancy. "I can't believe that bastard lied about the vasectomy," she said. "Just the thought that the baby might be his makes me sick. I'd rather not take the risk." That was the last straw. If she truly believed her body was nothing more than a graveyard, then I would make sure she got exactly what she wished for.

My twin sister Celeste and I shared the same face, but little else. She believed in forgiveness. I believed anyone who hurt her should pay. Three years ago, Celeste was set to marry Adrien, Crown Prince of Valeria. But an old succession law forbade identical twins from both retaining legal identities once one entered the royal bloodline. So I chose my sister. My parents staged my death, erased Cassandra Montclair from public records, and promised to protect Celeste after I disappeared. I left her my fortune and the Crescent Guard, then vanished to the northern border. I believed my death had bought her safety. Then our dormant twin bond suddenly returned—and pain told me Celeste was being tortured. I reached the capital to find our cousin Vivienne wearing Celeste’s crown beside Celeste’s husband. My parents watched her coronation from the front row. Celeste had vanished. Inside the palace, everyone mistook me for the disgraced former queen. Servants wore her jewelry. Adrien dismissed every plea she had made as jealousy. Even our parents threatened to disown her. They said her wicked sister had died long ago. They said Cassandra would be ashamed of her. Surrounded by royal guards, I picked up a sword and turned the hilt three times—the way I always had before protecting my sister. My mother went pale. My father staggered back. “Cassandra?” I raised the blade. “Now that you recognize me, tell me where my sister is.”

When Stella Everette's junior went looking for death again, I knew she would come to peel off my skin next. It had been this way for a hundred years. Her beloved, Louie Linfield, kept throwing himself into the demon cave, trying to die for the lover he had lost there. Every time, Stella saved him and used the healthy skin from my body to replace his flesh that was burned away by the primordial flames. The skin on my body had been replaced repeatedly. There wasn't a single patch of untouched skin left. Only my face still looked somewhat like it had before. But this time, Louie burned half his face. When Stella locked me in the demon realm's prison and used torture tools to tear the skin from my entire face, there wasn't a trace of warmth in her eyes. "Lucian, Louie is my mentor's only blood relative left, and he once saved my life. You're my husband. Isn't it only right for you to help me?" She hurried away with my blood-soaked skin, leaving me alone in the lightless prison. She had forgotten that I had lost all my demonic power. I could no longer grow new skin, and I couldn't withstand the corrosive demonic energy in this place. The freezing demonic energy pierced through my entire body, tearing into what little flesh I had left. With the last bit of strength I had, I took the beaded bracelet from my wrist and pressed it against my chest. Whispering, I called out to my mentor, "I want to go home."

Marcus Dawson put a price on everything. If he decided something wasn't worth the money, he refused to pay for it. I had broken my right leg saving his life. Even then, he refused to buy me the custom orthopedic brace that would protect my healing leg. "You won't need a brace for that long. It's such a waste of money." "Be reasonable, Ren. I'll get you the best crutches instead. Walking more will help you recover, and they won't cost nearly as much." I was quiet for a long moment. Then I whispered, "Okay." But minutes earlier, I'd seen a new Facebook post from my best friend, Jessica Vance: a five-thousand-dollar designer handbag with one breezy word in the caption. "Surprise." The hand holding the bag was blurred, but I would have known the fresh scar on that forearm anywhere. Marcus had gotten it in a car accident only weeks ago. It was Marcus. A five-thousand-dollar brace was a waste. A five-thousand-dollar bag was a surprise. The same number was excessive when it was spent on me and romantic when it was spent on her. I'd always assumed he was just being frugal. Now I realized he'd done the math a long time ago. My leg wasn't worth five thousand dollars. And neither was I. I pulled out my phone and dialed a number I hadn't called in a long time. "Nathan, I want to come home."

Everyone said Alice Foster was heads over heels in love with me. Even when my father and I were kicked out of the house, she still insisted on keeping her marriage vows. She even rehearsed them ninety-nine times because she envisioned a perfect wedding for us. Little did they know, all the best-men at the wedding were picked among a list of the ninety-nine lovers she kept around her. “Oliver, you're already my husband. It’s not too much to ask to let them attend the wedding, is it?” I numbly accepted the box of cash she handed me before rushing to the hospital. The wedding was supposed to be for me. That was, until I saw her walking onto the stage with the child my mother birthed out of wedlock. I could not hold back my tears anymore and questioned her. “Why did you pick him of all people?” Alice smiled faintly, "I'm pregnant with his child. “Take the high road for once, would you? Don't be like your father who has to go around begging for medical bills from his son at his old age.” I clutched the money and ran out of the hall while enduring the jeering gaze of the crowd. I got to the hospital just in time to see my father jumping to his death. After his blood splattered on my face, he turned to me with his eyes wide open and gasped with his last breath, “Oliver, quit begging her.”

Josie Jackson, who had been cold to me for ten years, suddenly changed her attitude. Not only did she take me on a worldwide trip, but she also personally cooked a lavish dinner for me. I thought our relationship had finally improved, but little did I know, she had put an excessive amount of sleeping pills in the food. I was taken to the hospital, where I was forcibly castrated without any anesthesia. By the time I regained consciousness, I saw Josie and her so-called brother close together. "Josie, you're so good to me! I only mentioned being envious of Andrew's health. I can't believe you actually emasculated him all for me." Josie's expression remained calm. Her eyes were filled with nothing but affection for Alex Carter. "This is what he deserves. If it weren't for him back then, you wouldn't have been in that accident and ended up with a physical disability. "I'm only returning what he took from you." Ten years ago, during an earthquake, I gave up saving Alex and chose to save her instead. So she took all the pain Alex suffered out on me. Since I felt guilty, I endured her torment for ten years. This time, I finally gave up. After finding out I didn't have much time left, I called my mother. "I agree to the heart transplant for Robert."

Three years after my death, Logan Grant finally married the woman he'd always loved. To get revenge on her behalf, he had my father thrown in prison, drove my mother to jump to her death, and demanded that I get on my knees and beg for mercy. The problem was, Logan, I'd been dead for years. All that remained of me was a pile of dry bones. When my death certificate was finally placed before him, he lost his mind. He dug up my remains, cradled my bones in his arms, and sobbed as he begged me to forgive him.

I won a hundred million. Without a second thought, I quit my job, the one that paid me twenty thousand a month. My husband, who earned barely six thousand, assumed I had been laid off, and in that instant, he showed his true colors. "Let's get a divorce," he said calmly. "You're not good enough for me anymore." Even my mother-in-law, who had always seemed so gentle, turned on me without hesitation. "Get out of this house," she snapped. "And take your sick daughter with you. From now on, you're on your own." That was the moment I gave up on both of them. I did not argue. I did not try to stay. Meanwhile, they were thrilled, convinced they had finally rid themselves of me and my daughter, the burdens they no longer wanted. What they did not know was that inside my bag was not just a lottery ticket worth a hundred million. There was also a diagnosis. My husband, Wade Zeller, had late-stage stomach cancer.

Today is Morgan Franklin's 30th birthday. It also marks the day he brings up divorce in front of me for the 99th time. He doesn't sound guilty and tentative anymore, unlike his demeanor when he mentioned divorce for the first time. Instead, he has a cigarette dangling between his lips while looking at me mockingly. "I've already called the ambulance for you, Milana. Have you thought about how you're going to commit suicide this time? Are you slitting your wrist or overdosing on pills?" Everyone in the private room bursts out laughing. "I bet she's going down the sleeping pill route! She did that the last time, and she had to get her stomach pumped for three hours!" "Hell no! She's definitely jumping off a building this time! But she'll just wait for the firemen to lay out the safety mat before pretending to jump! She's not going to die at all!" "Nah… Ms. Brook is very creative when it comes to suicide. Every time she commits suicide, she always uses a different method!" Everyone is curious as to which suicide method I will use in order to get Morgan to stay this time. But when I notice the smiles on everyone's faces, I suddenly feel exhaustion weighing down on my soul. The anger that has been sustaining me for so long finally dissipates. I lower my gaze before stating calmly, "I'm not doing any of that. This time, I shall grant you your freedom."

At a friends' gathering, we're all playing Truth or Dare. Since Austin Ramos has lost the round, he chooses the "Truth" option. "Elsa and I have a child together." I whip around to stare at him in disbelief, my body already frozen from the news. Everyone knows that Elsa is my dearest sister, whereas Austin is my newly-married husband. His tone is casual and calm. It's also coated in a slight hint of nonchalance. "I had too much to drink three years ago. Elsa looked super sexy in her skimpy clothes, and I couldn't hold myself back. I didn't think she'd get pregnant right away." He dips his head while chuckling softly. Soon, his words take on a different meaning. "Elsa is definitely sexier than a certain someone here, and she's definitely interesting in bed. On top of that, she's capable of making me a father, unlike a certain infertile woman here." I can only look at Elsa, whose cheeks are heavily flushed. She lowers her head and dares not look at me the whole time. Yesterday, Elsa had wished me happiness with red-rimmed eyes. She told me that she'd plan the grandest wedding for me. Austin puts down his glass before adding lightly, "There. I've said my piece." Almost immediately, everyone falls silent and turns to look at me.

For eight years, Daniel Foster throws me a wedding every year, but never makes our marriage legal. He claims he's afraid of marriage, terrified that we'll end up like his parents. So instead of pressuring him, I give him eight whole years to work through his fears and prepare himself for the commitment. At our eighth wedding, I notice that Daniel is wearing the wrong suit. At first glance, it looks exactly like the suit we've chosen for the ceremony. The only difference is the name embroidered on the collar. It isn't mine. It belongs to my best friend, Avery Morgan. I'm about to confront Daniel and demand an explanation when my older sister, Vivian Cooper, grabs my arm and stops me. "Elle, it's been eight years. What good will confronting him do now? It's better to pretend you haven't noticed." I stare at her in disbelief. "Viv, are you saying you've known all along?" Vivian stiffens slightly before glancing at the family members and friends gathered around us. "It's not just me. Everyone knows." I stand frozen, unable to say a word. It takes me a long moment to find my voice again. "Then why? Why has Daniel kept holding wedding ceremonies with me for the past eight years?" Vivian's voice softens, and sympathy fills her eyes as she explains, "Having a wedding every year was Avery's idea. Apart from the wedding she and Daniel had when they legally married, every wedding they've had since has been matched by one for you." So the marriage I've spent eight years waiting for has already been given to someone else, and I'm the last person to find out.

After being reborn, I stopped preventing Rachel Jackson from having any contact with her childhood sweetheart, Logan Cole. She gave Logan all her salary to pursue his dream, while I used the money I earned through hard work to invest. She got pregnant and gave birth to a child for Logan in the hospital, so I bought a train ticket to leave the small town. Later, she said she would agree to marry me as long as I agreed to adopt Logan's child. Unfortunately, I had already made my first million dollars by relying on the memories of my previous life. In this life, I chose to fulfill their wishes and enjoy a good life myself.

Lily Harper was my husband Victor Carter's first love. The day she got divorced, Victor dressed up and headed out with the newest toy on the market for her son. That was the day I started teaching our son, Arthur, to call him "Mr. Carter." He skipped Arthur's first-day-of-school assembly to take Lily's son, Leo, to an amusement park. I told Arthur, "Mr. Carter has a lot of work to do." When Lily called to say her place felt empty, Victor walked out on us on Christmas Day. I comforted my heartbroken son. "Let Mr. Carter go do his work. Mommy will always be here with you." Later, the two boys got into a fight at school, and the teacher called us in. Victor stood across from Arthur and me, right beside Lily. Arthur clenched his fists. "Mr. Carter, your precious Leo hit me first." When we got home, Victor realized how badly he'd hurt Arthur and decided to throw him a huge birthday party. In the middle of the party, Lily called again, crying because Leo had a fever. Victor put his phone down and gave Arthur an apologetic look. "I'm sorry, I..." Arthur looked back at him, his face blank. "It's okay, Mr. Carter. I have Mom. That's enough."

I once made a promise to the top actress in the industry. If I publicly proposed to her 99 times on livestreams, she would, on the hundredth, officially launch our relationship. But when the hundredth proposal came, she was on a private yacht kissing a new rising actor. Her smile had been so sweet and carefree. I became a complete joke. Feeling guilty, she texted me: [I will say yes on your 101st proposal.] She entered my livestream, looking like a goddess had descended to earth. As she looked on, I lit all one hundred love letters I had ever written for her, as well as the stomach cancer diagnosis I had hidden inside. “There will be no 101st time, Miss Ford.”

I had argued with Tiffany Jensen at the construction site over a 15-dollar BBQ plate, and the fight had spiraled out of control. Clutching my throbbing head, I watched as she stuffed the freshly cashed paycheck into her pocket. "Are you ever going to let this go? You just want me to pay for your meal, don't you? You're always complaining about headaches and dizziness. I think you're just lazy!" I wanted to tell her about the flashes of luxury that kept appearing in my mind, images I could not explain. However, the words stuck in my throat as another wave of vertigo hit me. By the time I steadied myself and caught up to her, she was already climbing into a black Rolls-Royce Cullinan. Their mocking voices drifted out through the car window. Someone said, "I thought your little 'real-life experience' would be fun, but this is it? You even argued over a meal." Another person laughed along. "Tiffany, Mr. Jensen's about to have a heart attack over this. Now that he's finally agreed to let you date Ethan Parker, just dump this loser already. Are you planning to support him for the rest of his life?" Tiffany replied without hesitation, "He's a nobody who doesn't even know who he is, and he thinks he deserves someone like me?" It turned out that after I lost my memory, I had become nothing more than a pawn in a wealthy heiress' rebellion game. I turned to leave, my heart sinking. Just then, an unknown number flashed across my phone screen. I answered without thinking. "Mr. Shaw, this is Alfred Wright, your family's butler. You've been missing for five years! Your grandfather is dying, and he wants to see you one last time." I glanced back at the car disappearing into the distance and said, "Alfred, come pick me up."