Mga Maiikling Kuwento at Nobelang Familial Bond Romance

After I quit my job to become a full-time househusband, my wife, Brooke Lowell, left me with nothing but a bank card capped at 1,000 dollars a month. She said children had to be raised with hardship to grow up strong, and was always worried I might secretly give our daughter special treatment. But 1,000 dollars was nowhere near enough to cover a household's monthly expenses. Every time the kindergarten asked for nutrition fees, I could only swallow my pride and beg for leniency. "She's just a child. Why does she need that much money? You've got some nerve, living so comfortably on 1,000 a month." I had thought Brooke's harshness was meant to temper our daughter's character. That illusion lasted until I asked Brooke for 300 dollars to buy clothes for our daughter's Children's Day performance. What I received instead was humiliation and ridicule from everyone. Brooke accused me of acting like a spoiled rich kid, wasting money on unnecessary clothes. My mother-in-law complained that I dressed too poorly, like a beggar bringing shame to the family. Even my daughter blamed me for embarrassing her, saying I had ruined her Children's Day and damaged her props. I bowed my head, apologized, and paid compensation. Only then did I discover that my bank card had been frozen. The very next moment, Brooke's crush posted on social media about his son receiving a luxury mansion. 'Already a house-owner at three! Who'd believe she's not his birth mother?' Only then did I understand. People who truly loved someone would never be stingy when spending on them.

On the day I get discharged from the psychiatric hospital, my wife, Lisseth Gabler, speaks up all of a sudden. "When your mom was struck and killed by Donny's car, I was the one who hired a lawyer to defend him." My dad—the most elite doctor in the city—is still driving as he adds coolly, "I was the one who personally forged your mental illness records." Throughout the three-year torture I've received in the psychiatric hospital, I keep recalling the tragic way my mom died when she was struck by Donny Kaufman's car all the time. Meanwhile, my own wife chooses to defend him, whereas my own father has me admitted into a psychiatric hospital. I do my best not to collapse from the sheer shock. In a quivering tone, I ask, "Why?" Dad averts his gaze. Lisseth is the one who answers my question nonchalantly. "It's simple. You have everything. It's pitiful enough for Donny to be labelled as the illegitimate son. Now, I'm giving you two choices. Either patch things up with Donny, or stay in the psychiatric hospital for the rest of your life."

I am the only person who refuses to abandon Sophia Quinlan when she gets kicked out of the Quinlan family. I work to expand her network, secure funding, and piece together a business empire of our own over these six years. Zachary Lund, her first love, returns from abroad on the very day she becomes the CEO of Quinlan Group. I spend six years busting my back for her, while Zachary spends those same six years keeping her company from halfway across the world. She begins to regret marrying me so early, so she secretly goes behind my back and promotes Zachary to be her personal secretary. Later on, a business rival Sophia has backed into a corner suddenly barges into the banquet carrying an improvised bomb. The crowd scatters in panic. Zachary doesn't even hesitate to leave her behind, breaking free of her grip and running for his own safety. I am the only one who stays behind to protect her from the blast, leaving my body completely shredded from the explosion. In the last moments of my life, I cough up blood and hold onto her hand as I ask the question I have kept inside for six years. "Have you ever, in the past six years—" Sophia pulls her hand away from mine before I can finish speaking. She runs toward Zachary, who is screaming over a scratch on his arm from the shrapnel. It turns out the answer is right in front of me the whole time, making the question pointless. I close my eyes for good this time, a smile of relief creeping onto my face. When I open my eyes, I find myself back on the luxury cruise ship on the day of my wedding with Sophia. I take off my boutonniere without a second thought, strip off my wedding suit, and plunge right into the sea to run away from the wedding. I notice a sea of people gathered just as I reach the shore, with loudspeakers blasting the wedding march. It is then that a woman clad in a wedding dress walks up to me and asks, "Will you marry me, Robert Lister?"

When my husband threatened me with divorce for the hundredth time, demanding I sacrifice myself for my sister, I did not cry or make a scene. I simply signed my name on the divorce papers and willingly handed over the man I had loved for ten years to my sister. A few days later, my sister spoke recklessly at a banquet and offended a powerful family. Once again, I stepped forward to take responsibility, bearing all the consequences in her place. When they later proposed that I become a test subject for my sister's drug research, I gladly accepted. Mom and Dad said I had finally grown into someone mature and responsible. Even my cold husband stood by my hospital bed and, for the first time in so long, gently stroked my cheek. He said tenderly, "Don't be afraid. The experiment won't be life-threatening. When you get out, I'll cook you a big meal." However, he did not know that regardless of whether the experiment was dangerous or not, he did not have to wait for me because I was already dying from a terminal illness.

When Bradley Jaeger heard that his mother had suffered a sudden brain hemorrhage and slipped into a coma, his mind went completely blank. Without a second thought, he rushed out of his office. However, Sierra Perkins stopped him with a cool, flat voice. "It's still working hours. Where do you think you're going?" Bradley's eyes reddened as he faced the woman he was about to marry. "My mom is in the hospital, fighting for her life." "Going there won't change anything. You're going to be my husband; you should be setting an example, not ditching work." Sierra remained unmoved, and her delicate features were beautiful but coldly distant. Bradley froze for a moment. "But this is an emergency. I'm only asking to leave ten minutes early..." Sierra's tone grew firmer, and her voice was as cold as frost. "Bradley, go back to your desk. It's rush hour, so you won't be able to get a cab. Just wait for ten minutes, and you can ride over with me." It was indeed rush hour, and rides were hard to come by. Besides, all he had to do was wait ten minutes. In a daze, Bradley turned around and sat back down at his desk. Over and over, he tried to convince himself that Sierra had a point. Yet for some reason, his eyes burned and ached unbearably.

My daughter, Ruby Pratt, has leukemia. She needs a bone marrow transplant—and fast. Out of everyone in the family, my husband, Dan Pratt, was the only match. I begged him for an entire month before he finally agreed to go through with the donation. But on the morning of the surgery, he went completely off the grid. I stood outside the hospital all day, waiting. No calls. No texts. Not even a shadow. That night, his childhood friend, Valerie Kinder, posted on Instagram. In the photo, Dan was holding Valerie's hand with one arm and carrying her young son with the other—on a beach in Lulabo City. The caption read: [Soaking up the sun! Dan cleared his whole schedule to join us on a month-long trek and we finally made it to the coast! My little boy said Uncle Dan made his ocean dream come true. Pure joy!] My heart splintered. While I was drowning in worry over my daughter, he was off playing happy family with them. I wiped my tears and typed a comment beneath her post: [Not 'Uncle.' From now on, he's your son's father.] That night, I finally got a call from him. "Babe, don't be like this," Dan said. "You're not being fair. "Valerie's son has been bullied at school for not having a dad. I couldn't stand seeing him hurt, so I took them on this trip. It was supposed to help him heal. "I'll catch the first flight back tomorrow and head straight to the hospital to donate the marrow. I promise." I hung up with a bitter smile. The next morning, Dan rushed into the hospital room. But all he found on the bed was a death certificate.

The day after I lose my babies, my husband, Colin Fraser, tries to make it up to me with money, like he always does. "What's it going to be this time?" he asks. "Jewelry, company shares, or that plot of land in Easton?" I simply shake my head and slide the document from my nightstand toward him. As casually as he's signed countless checks before, Colin signs it without even looking. When he glances up and sees how calm I am, he lets out a soft laugh. "I thought you'd ask me to stay and keep you company," he says, shaking his head. "After all these years, you're still so materialistic. Money is all you care about." My hand freezes for a moment as I reach for the signed document. Just then, my son, Simon Fraser, breaks the silence with his innocent voice. "Dad, you're only realizing that now? You gave Mom money when she had me. Now that my little siblings are gone, you're giving her money again. Ava is much better. She says love can't be bought with money." Ava's right. Love isn't something you can buy with money. And that is why this document isn't another business contract. It's a divorce agreement.

As Dad lies on his death bed, he rasps to me that his only wish is to watch me get married. I keep crying to the point that my sobs come out silent. My entire family turns to look at Whitney Pearson, who stands behind me. She lets out a small sigh before wiping my tears away for me gently. Then, she leads me out of the ward. But as soon as the door is closed behind us, Whitney's expression turns icy. "Joseph, we've been dating for seven years. You of all people should know very well that I hate getting coerced into doing something the most. "Love is all about going with the flow. We shouldn't let others determine how our relationship should progress." Then, she caresses my cheek reassuringly. "Let's not rush our marriage. We'll talk more about this once things settle down after my company goes public. What do you think? "Anyway, I still have a meeting to get to tonight. You should deal with your family as you see fit. I'll bring a gift for you when I come home later." Before I can say anything, Whitney spins on her heel and leaves with her secretary, Kaiden Xavier. The moment both of them disappear into the elevator, I witness Kaiden bending over slightly to brush Whitney's hair from her face for her. She makes no move to stop him at all. After drying my tears, I return to the ward and take Dad's hand with a smile. "Don't worry, Dad. I'll get married in three days. In fact, I'm still waiting for you to do my tie for me before the start of the ceremony."

My mom was a computer genius with a PhD who works in Silicon Valley. Shortly after I was born, she created an AI robot sister modeled after me. Mom said my AI robot sister was equipped with the world's most accurate child behavior evaluation system. The moment I made a mistake, it would detect it. From then on, my AI robot sister became the judge of my life. Whenever she issued a warning, even when I had done nothing wrong, all I received was punishment. I tried to defend myself before. But Mom said the robot she built with her own hands could never make a mistake, and she became even more convinced that I was an inferior child. On my birthday, Mom took my sister and me to participate in an Outstanding Children Competition. When I saw the rock-climbing challenge towering dozens of meters high, I shook my head desperately and refused because I had a fear of heights and a heart condition. But my AI robot sister coldly pulled up my medical data report: “She is completely healthy. This is a lie she created to avoid participating in the competition.” Mom's face darkened instantly. She grabbed my ear and dragged me toward the climbing wall. “You're still lying? Today, you're going up there!” Trembling, I began climbing upward. My breathing grew faster and faster. The moment my foot slipped, the pain in my heart felt as if it had been torn open by a blade. I fell into the foam safety pit, and slowly, my breathing stopped. Meanwhile, outside the arena, Mom was still cursing me for my terrible performance. Mom, I'm dead. From now on, I'll never be your embarrassing, stupid daughter again.

After a car accident leaves my older brother, Cedric Horton, fighting for his life, he asks to see me. The sight of his bloodless face sends me into tears, and I swear that I'll take good care of his newborn baby, only for Cedric to shake his head. "You won't have to. Benjamin, the baby is Helena's." For a moment, the world falls silent. My wife, Helena Grant, steps forward and clasps Cedric's hand. Her eyes are red as she drops to her knees before me. "We kept it from you because we never wanted to hurt you. Now that Cedric is dying, all he asks is that you give us your blessing." Still numb, I pick up a pen and sign the divorce papers. Three days later, I bury Cedric myself beneath a headstone that identifies him as the beloved husband of Helena Grant. Mom and Dad are so furious that they disown him. They refuse to recognize his child as family, choosing instead to devote all their time to staying by my side. Yet, five years pass, and my depression worsens. On the day I plan to end my life, I take a bottle of Cedric's favorite liquor to his grave. Instead, I find him standing there, very much alive, holding Helena's hand with his left while carrying a little boy in his right arm. Mom and Dad stand beside them, their eyes filled with concern. "We never would've asked you to fake your death for five years if we weren't afraid Benjamin might hurt all three of you. "He's doing so badly now that he constantly gets his memories mixed up. When we get back, we'll convince him you and Helena were married all along. Then, the three of you can finally stop hiding and live as a family." The bottle hits the ground and shatters, the liquor disappearing into the earth. I pull out my phone and change Helena's contact name to "Mrs. Cedric Horton". They don't need to lie to me anymore, because I'll give them exactly what they want.

In the middle of a hurricane, I camped out on the app and snagged the last designated-driver job of the night. The man who got in wore a tailored suit and carried himself with an expensive kind of polish. He casually pulled out a few crisp bills and tucked them into the gap beside my seat. "Driving people around isn't easy these days. You even have to take jobs in a hurricane." I smiled but said nothing. His gaze landed on my ring. "You're married?" I nodded at him through the rearview mirror. "We've been married a year." "Why not get a nicer ring?" He held out his hand. "My fiancée bought me mine. Guess how much it cost." The platinum band on his finger was set with a sizable diamond, and its reflection in the mirror flashed in my eyes. The whole way, he cheerfully kept the conversation going, talking about business deals I didn't understand. When the car pulled up in front of his mansion, he suddenly spoke up. "It's pouring out there, and they've closed the highway. Why don't you wait a while before you go?" I lingered outside the door, hesitant. Then I looked up. Through the half-open door, I froze mid-step. A huge wedding portrait hung high on the wall inside. The woman in the photo looked exactly like Alexis Goldstein, my wife of one year.

My daughter and my husband’s godson were diagnosed with acute leukemia at the same time. The doctors said a banked cord-blood unit could save a life. His foster sister, Rebecca Sloan, knelt in front of me with her son in her arms and begged until her voice gave out. “Claire, please, let Leo have the cord blood. His father died right after he was born and I never banked any of my own. Have some pity on the two of us. “Leo is the only child I have. I’m begging you. Save him.” I refused outright. I was not going to gamble with my daughter’s life. Then, on the morning of my daughter’s treatment, my husband, Ethan Hale hit me with his car and left me critically injured. The wheels went over my thigh and back again. The pain nearly took me under. He stood over me while I struggled in the blood on the pavement, and I couldn’t read anything in his eyes. “Claire, I’m sorry. For Leo’s sake, this is the only thing I can do. “You shouldn’t have fought Rebecca over the cord blood. Leo is far sicker than our daughter. If anyone gets saved first, it should be him.” They rushed me into surgery. He turned around, took the cord blood, and gave it to Rebecca’s son. By the time I woke up in my room, the only thing waiting for me was my daughter’s death certificate.

When Harry Carson is reborn, he finds himself back at 27 years old, married to the richest woman in the world, Laura Jensen, with a son and a daughter. Laura holds the top spot on the Global Wealth Index year after year. The Pinnacle Magazine names her the world's most desirable woman to marry, and even the royal family of Eldoria hopes to arrange a marriage between her and their prince. Everyone says Harry is the luckiest man alive, but the first thing he does is take the divorce agreement straight to Thomas Bright, the man Laura has always loved. He slides the papers across the table and says calmly, "I want a divorce. Laura's yours, and so are the kids." Thomas stares at him in disbelief. He can't believe that Harry, who has been Laura's husband for six years, is suddenly willing to step aside. Harry simply adds, "Since they all prefer you anyway, I'm giving you what you want. Just get Laura to sign the papers. Once the divorce procedures are over, I'll walk away." This time, Harry refuses to repeat the mistakes of his previous life. He's done being "Laura's husband", whom everyone treats as though he doesn't exist. Thomas unconsciously runs his fingers along the rim of his cup, his brows furrowing. "Harry, what the hell are you playing at?" Harry watches the expressions flicker across Thomas' face before calmly repeating himself, "I'm not playing games. I've just had enough." "Harry, do you have any idea how many men out there would kill to be in your position?" "I do." Harry looks him straight in the eye. "That's why I'm giving it to you."

My fiance's childhood friend, Tori Kerr, calls him 999 times, begging him to cancel the wedding. "I see it in the tarot cards. You can't get married this year. Cancel the wedding right now." Mikael Jardine hesitates and says, "Tori's tarot readings are always accurate. Let's just listen to her." My temper flares up immediately. The invitations are already sent, and the venue is booked. How can we just cancel it? Seeing that I'm angry, Mikael ultimately decides not to listen to her. In a fit of rage, Tori blocks him. I thought that was the end of it. But on the wedding day, Tori suddenly storms onto the stage. The first thing she does is shout at my mom and ask her to leave in front of the guests. Tori says, "I read it in the tarot cards last night. Your mom's rising sign clashes with Mikael's. She can't attend the wedding. Besides, your mom's just a cleaning lady. She doesn't deserve to be here!"

I was the band's drummer and songwriter, but I was always the one the spotlight forgot. At our first music festival, I got ready to join hands with everyone for the final bow. But my boyfriend, lead singer Arthur Bennett, and my brother, guitarist Anthony Shaw, reached right past me. They each took one of Daisy Parker's hands, and with our keyboardist between them, the three bowed to the crowd. "The stage is too crowded. Just stay back and watch the gear." In the official photos from that day, only the other four looked as though they belonged in the spotlight. Next came an awards ceremony. I reached for the Best Lyricist trophy with my name on it. But my sister, Susan Shaw, snatched it and handed it to Daisy like it was the most natural thing in the world. "Daisy looks the prettiest tonight. Let her accept it for you." That night, the clips went viral, and everyone called the four of them the future of music. Then came the release of our first music video. I'd been so excited and had spent ages getting ready for it. But my boyfriend and my brother handed me a mask and told me it would make me look more mysterious. Late that night back at the hotel, I pretended to be drunk and slumped over the bar. I could hear them talking on the couch. "I don't get it. How did our family end up with such a forgettable loser?" "I wish Daisy was our real sister." After my brother and sister had their say, they both turned to my boyfriend. "We still don't know what you saw in our sister." After a long silence, I heard him laugh softly. "Daisy and I had a misunderstanding back then." They all smiled at each other and started planning a ski trip. Arthur said, "Daisy loves snow. Let's go to Aspen. I've booked four first-class seats. Irene can stay home and write songs." Out in the hall, I calmly put my earbuds in and started working on a new song. But the song I began writing that night would never carry their names. From now on, we'd go our separate ways. I'd see them at the top, and t

Before the holiday ticket rush started, my fiancée, Lisa Jetrow, and I had agreed to go back to my hometown for the holidays. A minute before the train tickets went up for sale online, her phone suddenly rang. Her male assistant's voice was trembling on the phone, sounding flustered. "Ms. Jetrow, what should I do? My mom sprained her ankle, but my signal's terrible so I can't buy tickets to go home..." I was totally focused, double-checking all the info in the last thirty seconds. But Lisa suddenly grabbed my phone, deleted all my travel details, and keyed in her assistant's details instead. When she tossed my phone back to me, she and her assistant had successfully booked tickets, and the destination was his hometown. All the other tickets were already sold out. "Are you out of your mind? You promised my grandma..." "His hometown is really far, so he can't wait. I'll explain to your grandma later." I was speechless. My grandma was critically ill, and she wanted to see her grandson and future granddaughter-in-law one last time. Lisa had only reluctantly agreed to go back with me after I'd asked her three times. But she wasn't going back to my hometown now. She gave that precious ticket to someone else. Taking a deep breath, I opened a WhatsApp chat and typed: "Come pick me up. Grandma wants to see you."

When my daughter, Ruth Jensen, says for the tenth time that she wants a different mother, I don't get angry. I just calmly ask her who she wants instead. She blurts, "Vivian." She means Vivian Green, her tutor… and also the woman my husband has never been able to forget. At Ruth's birthday party that day, she even openly thanks Vivian, saying Vivian takes care of her like a mother. Looking at Ruth's young, innocent face, I finally understand that she doesn't like me. So, I stop caring for her and my husband the way I used to. Instead, I turn around and join a classified national project. Rather than wasting time on people who aren't worth it, I'd be better off serving my country!

The day my entire family attended my girlfriend's wedding to my stepbrother, I laid in the bathtub and contemplated ending my life there and then. Just as the cold blade touched my wrist, my phone suddenly began ringing nonstop. It was a scheduled call my late mother had left for me. "Happy birthday, Casper!" After a moment of silence, I climbed out of the bathtub, got dressed, and secretly left the country. In the five years I was gone, I changed my name and phone number to cut off all ties with my home country. Everyone thought I was dead. They believed I had died on the day my girlfriend married my stepbrother. For five whole years, fresh red roses had been laid at my grave every single day. Five years later, I returned home to visit my mother's grave. At the floral boutique outside the cemetery, I happened to run into my ex-girlfriend, who had come to buy red roses. After a moment of shock and awkwardness, we finally greeted each other. "It's been a long time." I smiled at her politely. She stared at me without looking away. The red roses in her hand pricked her fingers until they bled. Just as we were about to part, she suddenly asked, "Why didn't you come looking for me in the past five years?" I smiled but didn't answer. After all, we weren't a couple anymore. She had married my father's illegitimate son, and I had a three-year-old child of my own. There was no going back.

Adrian Vance and I had been secretly married for ten years, and I had always been his perfect wife. He was the president of a hospital. But lately he'd fallen in love with playing broke. I asked him to pick up blackberries; he came home with bananas and a sad little story about money. I needed a ride to my own surgery; he drove me there rattling along in a beat-up van, because the van fit the part. And when our daughter was dying and the one person who could save her was him, he looked a stranger in the eye and swore he was nobody, just an assistant, certainly not the hospital's president. That was the moment it finally landed. He hadn't drifted into an affair on a whim. He had chosen, with his whole heart, to walk away from his wife and his child. Fine. I'd take our daughter and clear the way for his great love.

Two years after my death, my wife, Libby Burton, wants me to take the fall for her first love again. She comes to my place with a fabricated confession, only to find the house completely empty. With nowhere else to turn, she asks my neighbor, Maddox Bell, where I am. Maddox just tells her, "Kieran? He's dead! I heard he went through hell in prison. Didn't even last two days after getting out before he died." Libby refuses to believe it. She's convinced that Maddox and I are teaming up to fool her. She rolls her eyes and sneers. "So, he did a little time. Now he's playing the martyr? Please tell him if I don't see his face in three days, I'm cutting off every last cent for that bastard daughter of his." She turns on her heel and marches off in her high heels, furious. As Maddox watches her go, she shakes her head with a sigh. "But that poor girl was killed in a hit-and-run, and the driver is still on the loose…"