Mga Maiikling Kuwento at Nobelang Familial Bond Romance

In my seventh year of dating Elliot Sheppard, he pulls every string to save the exiled daughter of his imprisoned mentor—Margot Fairgrave—and gives her a wedding that makes headlines. "Professor Fairgrave was my guiding light and a man of integrity, who'd never yield to corruption. I owe it to him to protect his daughter," he declares. The Sheppard family, with their billion-dollar empire and strict family rules, will never accept a daughter-in-law like Margot. So, to secure her place, he demands that our son call her "Mom" and tells the world that I am just the nanny. He promises. "Just wait. Once I collect enough evidence to prove that Professor Fairgrave was framed, I'll return everything to the way it was." For three years, I waited and watched their picture-perfect family of three. My son no longer knows me as his mother, yet I remain their lowly nanny. Since I can't possibly wait forever, I've decided to stop waiting.

I loved Stella for five years, and we were even engaged. However, she never helped when my grandfather was dying, all because the adopted son of my family suggested that she should use the opportunity to put me through adversity—so that I would toughen up. After my grandfather died helplessly, I toughened up just as she hoped for, no longer relying on her for everything. Naturally, I no longer loved her anymore either.

It was my daughter's first day of kindergarten, but she was nowhere to be found. My wife's first love texted me. "Guess where your daughter is." This was already the fourth time Donald Shaw had played a cruel joke like this. On the day Claire Wilson and I went official, he told me she got into a car crash. I cried as I ran nearly two miles through the freezing night to reach her. When the truth came out, Donald hid behind Claire and laughed. "Just a prank. I only wanted to see how much you loved her." On the day of our wedding, he took Claire away and disappeared with her for twenty-four hours, leaving me alone to face the guests' mockery and her parents' anger. The next day, he came back holding her arm and said casually, "I just wanted to play a little game." When Tina was born, he came with a fake DNA test and said she was his. Only after I was overwhelmed with rage and ended up in the hospital did he finally reveal the real report. Every single time, my wife protected him like a heartbroken girl defending her first love. Then she would turn around and scold me. "He's just a bit childlike. Don't be so serious." And now, that bastard was using my daughter as the punchline of his latest joke. I was shivering with fury and I called my wife. But Claire only said impatiently, "He just wants to play hide and seek. Stop crying already." Then she hung up. My eyes stayed fixed on the screen. It showed my daughter's location. And right now, she was in the middle of a river.

Every time Millie Johnson, my daughter, returns home from playing with my best friend's dog at his place during summer break, she brings home an expensive doll. I have no choice but to pinch pennies and save up for a gift for my best friend after seeing how much Millie loves the dolls. I return home earlier than usual one day and overhear Millie talking excitedly into her smartwatch from her hiding spot in her room. "Mission accomplished, Mommy! Daddy didn't suspect a thing!" I am momentarily stunned. I am convinced that I have misheard, but then I hear Millie ask for a reward. "You're taking your wedding anniversary photos with Papa today, right? Can I come along, too? I'm so sick of eating plain pasta with Daddy every day, Mommy!" I freeze, my breath catching as I snatch the smartwatch from her. I happen to see the photo that has just been sent over. Sophie Johnson, my wife—who is supposed to be on her janitorial duty this morning—is actually wearing a pure white wedding dress. I stare at the screen, my hands trembling uncontrollably as my heart skips a beat. Millie tosses her doll aside and hurriedly tells me off, "You can't just snoop on me, Daddy! I'll be heading out to play with the doggy later, so don't bother us!" She excitedly peers out the window and waits for her ride after saying that. I stand frozen in place, staring at the apology message Sophie sent just a minute earlier. "I'm so sorry, Steven. It's all my fault for blowing the business and making you and Millie suffer so much all these years. I swear I'll make it up to you, Steven." I feel a sharp pang in my chest, leaving me barely able to breathe. I don't want to confront Sophie yet, so I simply trail the car that has come to pick Millie up instead.

At our final dinner before my graduation, my brother, Ethan Sawyer, suddenly gets a rainstorm alert on his phone. It isn't for our city. It's for Lindale, two hundred miles away. The next second, my childhood friend, Yohan Harrison, and my boyfriend, Connor Langley, receive the same alert. All three of them look down at their screens at the exact same time. Ethan is the first to text Willow Quinn. "Bring your umbrella." Yohan immediately checks whether the high-speed train is delayed. Connor has already opened his ride-hailing app. He plans to go pick Willow up because she's getting off work late. That's when I notice something. Lindale is the second city saved in all three of their weather apps—the same city where Willow has been doing her internship for the past six months. Whenever the temperature drops, someone reminds her to wear something warmer. When it rains, someone reminds her to bring an umbrella. When a hurricane is coming, someone makes sure to book her train ticket in advance. Meanwhile, I've mentioned three times in our group chat that I received a job offer from a studio in Fordham. No one has ever asked if it's cold there. Before Connor leaves, he even reminds me, "Make sure to ping me tomorrow morning so I can check Lindale's weather forecast." I nod silently, keeping quiet about the fact that I only have a few days left to accept the offer. Once I sign my name, I'll soon be flying five thousand miles away. After that, none of them will ever need to know what kind of weather awaits me in my new city.

In the seventh year of living apart from my wife, Sharon Shaw, I come to see her, only to have the key break off in the lock again. I hurriedly call her, and she says, "Maybe you grabbed the wrong key again. Go to a hotel and get some rest. I'll open the door when I get back." I look down at the sticker on my key and freeze. I didn't bring the wrong key. The only other possibility is that she has changed the locks. Before I can dwell on it, my dad, Ryan Jarquin, suddenly calls me. He laughs merrily and says, "Of course Sharon isn't home. She came to visit me first thing this morning with a whole bunch of things." My best friend, Steven Morgan, calls me next. He sounds drunk over the phone. "She's getting her nails done with my girlfriend right now. Women are such a hassle." After that, I get a call from my sister, Greta Jarquin. She says, "Sharon is such a busy woman. She finally found some time today to help me with an investment." My mind goes blank. What they don't know is that five minutes ago, the security guard at the entrance told me the owner of this unit had just come home. I don't ask any more questions. Instead, I call a locksmith. Suddenly, I really want to know what secret my entire family is hiding from me.

Marty Greene, a newly hired assistant, publicly humiliates me by calling me a worthless nobody who hangs around Audrey Melton. As my girlfriend and an award-winning actress who loves me more than life itself, Audrey promises to stand up for me. She devises a seven-day plan to build Marty up before bringing him crashing down. On the first day, she replaces me with Marty as her personal assistant, claiming she wants him to understand how hard I work. On the third day, she gives him a luxury car and a mansion, supposedly to make him lose himself in vanity. On the fifth day, she bakes him a birthday cake on a live reality show. She insists it's a crucial part of her plan and begs me to be patient. Then on the seventh day, my mother, Deborah Faulkner, suddenly falls gravely ill. As she lies dying, her final wish is to see Audrey one last time. Audrey readily agrees. But I wait at the hospital all night, and she never shows up. Instead, all I see is a post from Marty on X. "Audrey is simply too kind for her own good. She almost falls for a scam after just one phone call. Luckily, I'm smart enough to see through it and stop her from falling for it." Mom dies without ever getting to see Audrey again. It's not until the following day that Audrey finally calls. "Babe, just hang in there a little longer. I'm going to expose Marty's vanity and ruin his reputation at today's awards ceremony. Then, we'll go public with our relationship and have the wedding of the century to make Mrs. Landry happy." Audrey has no idea that Mom is already dead, and that I'm done waiting for her.

My family decided our graduation trips with a random draw. My adopted sister, Clarine Prescott, and I would each get our own destination. Somehow, my parents and even my fiancé, Loic Beaumont, all ended up with Hawaii—the destination Clarine wanted. I was the only one who drew Wrangel Island, a remote place few people had ever visited. Loic gave me an apologetic look and kissed my forehead. "I really wish I could go with you, but rules are rules. We all agreed on this." I didn't learn the truth until dinner. I'd stepped outside to take a call, and as I headed back inside, I overheard my family whispering. "Thank God Theona didn't catch on. She never noticed us slipping the Hawaii tickets into our hands before the draw." Loic let out a relieved breath. My mother scoffed. "Well, Theona was raised by poor people, after all. She's nothing like Clarine. That girl's always been sharp." My father, Charles Prescott, nodded. "The drawing was a good idea, Loic. I'm always on edge whenever we travel with Theona. She's so clueless about how to behave that I'm constantly worried she'll embarrass us again." Inside, they were laughing and chatting away, but every word cut me like a knife. So I was the one who didn't belong. Fine. If that's what they want, I'll give it to them. I'll walk out of their lives for good.

Every year, Callum Walker gave me exactly five hours of his personal time. A meal with me cost forty minutes. A trip to visit my parents together cost two hours. Even sex was on the clock, starting the second he kissed me. Callum was the youngest senior partner at an elite white-shoe law firm, and his private consulting rate was 8,000 dollars an hour. I'd always assumed he was simply meticulous about his time. Then, at the firm's annual gala, Mia Garfield, the young lawyer he'd mentored himself, asked with a laugh, "Callum, how much time does your wife have left this year?" Callum glanced at his phone. "Seventeen minutes." Everyone in the room laughed. Mia tilted her head up at him. "What about me?" Callum ruffled her hair. "You're not on the clock. Dress shopping, late-night snacks, midnight movies... When have I ever kept time with you?" I swallowed the laughter filling the room and held on to those last seventeen minutes. A month later, my father, Russell Merriott, died suddenly of a heart attack. I used my final seventeen minutes to ask Callum to come with me to sign Dad's cremation authorization form. But I broke down afterward, clutched his sleeve, and kept him ten minutes longer. He didn't push me away. I thought that in the face of my father's death, he had finally made an exception for me. The next day, his secretary, Leon Barrymore, sent me a bill for 4,000 dollars. That same day, I pawned my wedding ring for 5,000 dollars. Four thousand went to settling the bill. The remaining thousand covered the first tuition installment at a language school abroad. This time, I wasn't going to waste any more of his time. Or any more of mine.

The morning after my wedding, my wife disappeared. I gave up my right to inherit the family business without any hesitation. I even sold my shares in the company I had built myself. After eight years together with three years of a long-distance relationship, we finally exchanged rings yesterday in front of our family and friends. But when I woke up, the ring was gone! My wife was gone too! I searched for her like a maniac, and everyone said no one named Sophia Wellington existed. They said I had lost my mind! I won't believe that! I had held a wedding with her at the hotel just yesterday! I rushed back to the hotel and found the lobby manager, but he said, "Mr. Leon Gomez, you checked in alone. Besides, the banquet hall on the second floor was under renovation yesterday. We didn't host any weddings. Are you sure you… Weren't dreaming?"

At my engagement party, my fiancé and my parents had prepared a table filled with mystery boxes. My younger sister, Elena Hayes, wrapped her arms around my fiancé, Adrian Whitmore, and sweetly pleaded, “There are so many mystery boxes. Madison can’t possibly open them all. Can I pick three too?” Adrian affectionately ruffled Elena’s hair. “You never change. You’ve known your sister and me for so long, yet you still act like a child.” Our parents, Charles and Victoria Hayes, smiled indulgently. “Our Elena has always been lucky. Maybe she’ll win something amazing.” Elena eagerly grabbed three mystery boxes before anyone else could stop her. She opened the first one. “A ten-day honeymoon trip to Valehaven.” The second one. “All the cash gifts from Madison’s wedding.” And the third. “The Whitmore family’s heirloom emerald bracelet.” When I opened my own mystery boxes, every single card contained the same message: “Better luck next time.” Elena draped an arm around my shoulders with a smug smile. “Looks like you’re still as unlucky as ever, Madison. “A bet’s a bet! I’m going to Valehaven with your fiancé instead. “Don’t worry. I’ll keep an eye on him for you. I won’t let some pretty girl from overseas steal him away.” I stood frozen, convinced they were playing some cruel joke on me. Then Adrian spoke. “Madison, a bet’s a bet. “Take off the bracelet Grandma gave you and give it to Elena.”

Just after I finish a meeting, the parents' group chat for my daughter's kindergarten suddenly buzzes with activity. Someone shares a viral post. The poster writes, "A daughter is always her daddy's sweetheart. She's already using her allowance to buy her dad a birthday present! I wonder who my gentle, wealthy little princess will marry someday." The one who shares the post adds excitedly in the comments, "She's the one and only successor to the Webb family in Jemton! She's a true heiress!" The parents in the group chat eagerly offer their sycophantic compliments. They can hardly wait to offer their own sons as potential suitors for the little girl. But I'm puzzled. Other than my wife, Lucy Webb, I don't think there is any other family with the surname Webb in Jemton. Then, I open the photo attached to the post and instantly freeze. The sweet little girl smiling as she holds the gift is unmistakably my daughter, Emilia Webb, whom I personally drive to and from kindergarten every single day.

"Daddy, I want to see Mommy," my son, Simon Lloyd, murmurs after he regains consciousness on the hospital bed. I freeze for a moment and instinctively look toward the hospital room door. No one is there. Yesterday, after Simon came out of the operating room, my wife, Selena Aston, held his hand and said, "Don't worry. I'll be right outside waiting for you. I'm not going anywhere." Why is she nowhere in sight? I begin to panic and pull out my phone to call her, but there's no answer. Just then, I see a new photo posted on Instagram. Her male colleague, Joe Carter, is the one who posted it. The caption reads, "I'd like to thank a certain someone for filling the role of a mother in my daughter's life." In the photo, Selena is wearing matching outfits with Joe's daughter, Katy Carter. She holds Katy in her arms while smiling brightly the whole time. They look like a happy family of three. That is, if Selena weren't my wife at all.

Our daughter was diagnosed with a genetic illness. To save her, my husband founded a charity in her name. To raise the funds, he pushed himself to the brink—working three hundred days straight, surviving on three hours of sleep a night. His relentless drive moved countless people. The media hailed him as "Father of the Year." Everyone congratulated me on having such a devoted partner. Then came the day he rallied the entire nation, securing pledges for millions in donations to fund our daughter's cure. At the gala, with over ten million dollars moments from being transferred, I suddenly hit the pause button. "And now, we'll take a brief intermission for a signing," I announced. The room erupted. They shouted at me, called me selfish, a monster. My husband stared at me, utterly stunned. "Have you lost your mind? Children around the world are waiting on this money to survive! What in God's name are you talking about?" I lifted my gaze to meet his. "A divorce agreement."

Five years after falling into the abyss of depression, I finally felt like a human being again. I was back to talking, laughing, eating on my own, and my wife Stella Anderson and I were even expecting our second child. During our New Year's Eve family dinner, my wife’s godbrother, Lucian Smith, got trashed and started boasting through his alcohol-slurred breath. "Must’ve been five years ago." He smirked. "I was going through a brutal breakup, so I took my car out for a reckless joyride while the street cameras were down for maintenance." Lucian took a slow sip of his drink, his expression turning into a sneer. "You won't believe it. Right as I floored it, this stray cat flew right out of nowhere and slammed into my front bumper. It squealed once and bolted off into the dark." He shook his head in disgust. "Stupid animal ruined my custom wrap and scared the hell out of me. You guys better keep an eye out. Don't end up like Spencer, dragging home bad luck like a damn plague. Makes me sick just thinking about it." Lucian tossed the story out like it was nothing more than a minor, gross inconvenience. Around the table, everyone broke out in chuckles, nodding along and telling him to visit a church or grab a lucky charm so no evil spirits would haunt him. I stood there right in the middle of the noisy crowd. I looked at Lucian’s smirking face, my mother-in-law Camila Anderson's fond, doting eyes, and the tolerant, helpless smile on Stella’s face. The blood drained from my face instantly. It was as if every single one of them had forgotten. My daughter, Evelyn West, died in a hit-and-run five years ago.

On Thanksgiving, I was feeding my five-year-old brother, Preston Foster, when he suddenly said he'd dreamed about the future, "Westfield Steel stock is going to shoot up thirtyfold in three days!" I didn't understand what he was talking about, so I ignored him. But three days later, the stock really did jump thirtyfold. "I dreamed about it three days ago. Reed heard me too. He kept it from you on purpose. He's bad luck! If you beat him to death, our family will finally start making money." My father, Robert Foster, flew into a rage. He strung me up and beat me for an entire day and night. My aunt, Mallory Foster, managed to save me before it was too late, but by then, one of my legs had already been broken. From that day on, Preston became the family's miracle child who could see the future, while I became the one they blamed for everything. To make up for what I'd supposedly done, I dropped out of school young and went to work despite my damaged leg. I worked myself sick to buy my family a new house and even paid for Preston's wedding. Years later, on another Thanksgiving, he laughingly admitted the truth, "I never actually made that prediction back then! Who knew Reed would be dumb enough to believe I did? And all that stuff about him being bad luck? I made that up too." I broke down and demanded an explanation, but my family acted as though I was the one causing trouble. "Preston was just playing a joke. Why are you making such a big deal out of it? It happened years ago. Do you really have to tear this family apart over something so old?" I lost all hope and jumped to my death. When I opened my eyes again, I was five years old. This time, I would be the miracle child who could see the future.

After six years of dating, Selena Yane is about to marry Zachary Xenakis. However, her long-lost younger sister is found and brought back to the family. While Selena tries her best to make it up to Lucine Yane, Lucine doesn't appreciate her efforts. Not only does Lucine accuse Selena of being jealous and stealing their parents' love, but she even sets her sights on Zachary. With everyone standing against Selena, even Zachary advises her, "Lucine's about to marry into the Chiton family soon. It's only right that we make it up to her as best as we can." Hence, he even takes a family photo with Lucine and buys a necklace for her—the limited-edition necklace that should have been Selena's. He then abandons Selena on a deserted road, where she nearly becomes food for the wild animals. Even so, Zachary still feels like he owes it to Lucine. It isn't till the day of the wedding that Zachary finally learns it isn't Lucine marrying into the Chiton family. It's Selena. He tries desperately to stop the wedding convoy, but Selena doesn't even look back once.

Everyone said my wife, Zoey Harper, was an amazing wife and mom who'd do anything for me and our son, Leo. Leo's doctor warned us three times that he might not make it. Then he died. Zoey claimed she was overseas for work. She wasn't. She'd invited Peter Cole—the first love she'd never gotten over—and his family to our apartment for dinner. I came home carrying Leo's urn, ready to confront her. Instead, she tossed my luggage into the hall. "We have guests, and we're out of rooms. Go stay somewhere else for a few days."

Thor and I grew up together—we were the definition of childhood sweethearts. We'd promised to attend the same university, graduate, and marry right after senior year. Everyone envied us. They said we were a perfect match, destined for a lifetime together. And I believed that too. I truly thought I'd spend the rest of my life with him. Until the final semester of our senior year in high school, when a new transfer student named Lina joined our class. At first, the two barely spoke. But as they grew familiar, their bond deepened in ways I could no longer ignore. He started staying after school to tutor her, bringing her breakfast every morning. When she was upset, he'd take her for a drive along the coast. If she craved Italian steak, he'd have fresh cuts flown in. Even during her period, he'd quietly prepare everything she needed. I was furious. I confronted him, argued with him, and even threatened to break up. The first time I said it, he thought I was joking and coaxed me out of my anger. The second time, he dismissed it as another tantrum and tried different ways to please me. The third time, he broke down—standing outside my house in the pouring rain all night, half kneeling before me, begging for forgiveness. Again and again, I tried to leave, and every time, he refused to let me go. Yet with each reconciliation, something in him shifted. He started taking me for granted, assuming I would always come back. His patience wore thin. His apologies turned perfunctory. Even when he came to make peace, there was no sincerity left in his voice. So I said it for the hundredth time, and that was the last. That was the moment I finally gave up on him.

By a cruel twist of fate, I ended up sleeping with Evan Prescott, the man engaged to my adopted sister, Sienna Hartwell. The next morning, Evan looked at me with cold disgust. "What's done is done. I'll marry you. I'll take responsibility for what happened. "But Maren Hartwell, don't ever think you can compare to Sienna. That promise we made as kids stopped mattering a long time ago." Dad tore into me, calling me shameless. Mom only sighed. "Maren was abducted and spent eight years in the middle of nowhere. It's no surprise she came back with some bad habits. "Maren and Evan were originally the ones promised to each other anyway. We might as well set things back the way they were. I just feel sorry for Sienna." Then, on my wedding day, Sienna couldn't take it and jumped from a building. My whole family blamed me for her death. Evan went even further. When I was close to giving birth, he shoved me off a rooftop himself, killing my unborn twins and me. Then I opened my eyes again. I was back on the night we had been drugged. This time, I summoned all my strength and kicked him out of bed. Then, as I dialed a mysterious number, I walked over and knocked on Sienna's door...