เรื่องสั้นแนว Familial Bond Romance และนิยายในฉาก Family Emotions

Every time my wife, Jocelyn Seacross, visits her childhood sweetheart, Levi Anderson, who is terminally ill, she hints to me that maybe we should get a divorce. She says it's because Levi's dying wish is to have a proper place in her life. Today, she hints at it again. I don't kick up a fuss and simply say, "Okay." Because this conversation has already happened 99 times. This is the hundredth time this conversation has come up, and I finally find a reason to convince myself to let her go—our child is dead. Now, all that remains between Jocelyn and me are two certified copies of the marriage certificate.

【What should I do if I’ve fallen in love with my sister’s fiancé?】 I came across an Instagram post from an account with a default profile picture on my flight back to New York. The comments were brutal, each one harsher than the last. Then I saw a reply from a burner account: 【Don’t blame her. I was the one who led her on.】 【She acts tough, but she’s more fragile than anyone. I just can’t help feeling sorry for her.】 My finger froze on the screen, because the profile picture on that account was the cat my boyfriend, Vincent, had given me. With trembling fingers, I opened the poster’s profile. There was only one video on it. In the video, a woman had her back to the camera as she bent down to water a nearly dead plant, a silver bracelet on her wrist. It was the matching bracelet mom had left for my sister Clara and me before she died. For a long moment, I could barely breathe. Suddenly, I thought back to the first time I brought Vincent home to meet Clara. After one failed relationship, Clara had decided all men were the same. She looked at Vincent coldly and said, “He’s no different from the rest. One day, he’ll betray you too.” Vincent held my hand then and said, each word clear and steady, “If I ever betray Nora, may I lose everything.” Clara only scoffed, “Then we’ll see.” But if all of this was true, I was caught between the sister who had raised me and the man I had loved for five years. What was I supposed to do?

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.

On the day Grandma dies, my parents, who have both remarried, argue nonstop over where I should go. In my past life, I feel sorry for my overworked mom, Melissa Tanner, so I volunteer to stay with her. The lottery ticket I help her pick even wins her a ten-million-dollar jackpot. But once she strikes it rich, she showers my stepdad, Tristan Walker, and my younger siblings with mansions and luxury cars, yet refuses to buy me even a few hundred dollars' worth of painkillers. In the end, I'm diagnosed with a brain tumor and die in agonizing pain in my bed. This time around, Mom frowns and lets out sigh after sigh. "Your dad's married to a rich woman now. Go with him and live a good life. I've got too many kids at home. There's just no room for you." My dad, Derek Bennett, twirls his car keys, his tone indifferent. "That's not fair. The more kids, the merrier. Besides, there are a lot of rules at my place, and those twins from Rebecca's previous marriage are a real handful. Felix is used to running wild. If he comes with me, those twins will make his life miserable." As they keep passing the buck back and forth, I feel nothing. When they impatiently ask me who I'm going with, I silently pick up my bag and walk over to Dad. Dad's face darkens instantly. Mom, on the other hand, lets out a long sigh of relief, unable to suppress the gleeful smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. What she doesn't know is that without me there to stop Tristan, he will toss the lottery ticket into the washing machine, reducing it to a pile of useless scraps. Now that I have a second chance, all I want is to live a little more comfortably before I die.

After my wife, Shannon Stewart, suggests that we each support our own parents, I set up a million-dollar retirement fund for my dad. However, when I review this month's household expenses, I notice that every single payment is made for the father of Sean Gardner, her childhood friend. "Sean's family is struggling. Why wouldn't I help them out? It's not like it's a lot of money." Shannon brushes it off. There are 13 separate expenses of around 100 dollars each in a single month. Yet when my dad needs 300 for medical bills, she prints out the receipt and tells me to reimburse the household account. Tired of arguing, I toss the statement aside and head inside. Then my dad's condition suddenly worsens, and he's hospitalized again. I rush to the bank to withdraw money from the retirement fund. "Your father isn't the beneficiary of this fund," the bank employee states coldly. "Are you sure you have the right account?" My mind goes blank. How is that possible? Every cent in that account is my hard-earned cash. The employee impatiently turns the computer monitor toward me. The account name on the screen clearly reads, "James Gardner's Retirement Fund." James is Sean's dad.

At two in the morning, my sister, Paige Boyce, paid men to smash up my barbecue stand. I fought to make them stop, ignoring the embers that scorched blisters into my skin as they landed. It was the first time in my life I'd ever raised my voice at her. "After Mom and Dad died in that plane crash, this stand paid for four years of your college education and helped you become a flight attendant for Golden Crest Airlines," I said. "Are you really going to destroy the only thing keeping us alive?" Something flickered in her eyes, a flash of reluctance, but she steeled herself and scoffed. "I've told you a hundred times to get rid of this dump of a stand, and you never listen. Do you want my boyfriend's parents to see what an embarrassing family I have and decide I'm not good enough for their son?" I looked around at the wreckage. The vegetables and cuts of meat I'd hand-picked at the market that afternoon, spent hours threading onto skewers myself, were buried under ash and grime. My eyes stung, tears threatening to spill. I didn't have the heart to argue with her. Hands shaking, I started picking up whatever skewers were still salvageable, one by one. That was when a black card appeared in front of my face. "The day after tomorrow, I'm bringing Paige to meet my parents," the voice said. "This should be enough to buy yourself a real shop, so you don't embarrass her in front of everyone." I recognized that voice instantly and looked up slowly. The hand holding the black card belonged to Charlie Anton, the boyfriend I'd been secretly dating for five years.

The day Dad moved into the new house with my stepmother Paula and my stepbrother Connor, they left me behind in the old apartment, all alone. I called him and told him the door lock was broken and the gas alarm inside wouldn't stop going off. Paula just sneered in the background. "Funny how the lock works every other day, but breaks the moment we're celebrating Connor's move, isn't it?" Dad was silent for a few seconds, then hung up on me. Then he texted me the new address. "You're twenty-four. Stop pulling these stunts for attention." "Deal with it yourself, then come over. Don't make your brother feel unwelcome!" When I tried calling again, it went straight to voicemail. He'd blocked my number. That night, my stepbrother unwrapped presents in the new house. Dad turned the room that was supposed to be mine into a gaming room and told the relatives I had a temper and refused to come. The next day, when he found out I hadn't shown up for work, all he did was post one line in the family group chat: "Threatening your family by going missing is childish." What he didn't know was that I would never see that message.

Before my mother died, she arranged a marriage for me. My bride-to-be was Rosalind Young, Kingsford's most formidable financial tycoon. Before I married her, I added three clauses to the prenuptial agreement. First, no feelings. Our marriage was purely business. Second, she could live her life however she pleased, while I'd live mine. Third, I would step aside immediately if her true love ever came along. Nevertheless, I would be getting double the alimony. Rosalind was quite pleased that I knew my place. Our marriage was a peaceful one until the day a teenage girl who bore a striking resemblance to her knocked on the door of our mansion and calmly said, "Sir, I'm Rosalind's daughter. She raised me elsewhere. I'm 17."

As the iron gates of the mental institute swing open, my wife, Serena Seacrest, walks in with her childhood sweetheart, Adrian Cross, beside her. She looks at me with utter disgust. I am strapped tightly to the bed, unable to move. She sneers, "Damian, you've been subjected to electroshock treatments for an entire month. Is your mania any better? You pushed Adrian down the stairs and nearly broke his leg, so I sent you here to teach you how to be a normal person." Serena tosses a worn-out pink comfort bunny onto the floor and speaks as though she is granting me a favor. "Get down on your knees and apologize to Adrian. If you do, I'll be kind enough to let you see Lila next month." I stare blankly at the dusty bunny, but I am unable to make a sound. Serena frowns and curses, "What a complete nutjob." Then, she turns around and closes the door. What she doesn't know is that a month ago, on the day she forcibly dragged me onto the mental institute's transport van, our daughter, Delilah Vale, ran after me and was run over by a truck at an intersection, her body mangled beyond recognition. Delilah is dead now, and she will never hold her bunny again. And everything between Serena and me had ended that same night.

The day Ken Bowen and I finalized the divorce, I walked out wearing only the outfit I had worn on our wedding day. I let Ken keep the house, the cars, the money, and the kids. He looked genuinely surprised, then let out a mocking laugh. "Are you sure about this? You raised the girls yourself, and you're just giving them up? If you really don't want anything, then you won't need to pay child support either. That's fair, right?" I signed the papers without hesitation and said calmly, "Yeah. That's fair." Ken paused, then slowly signed his name. "If you regret this later, you…" I lifted a hand and cut him off. I didn't look back as I walked out. Ken used to say I married him for money and status, that I used our three daughters to tie him down. Whatever. The day he saw my dead body, he would finally understand.

"Mommy, can I stop being a Lawson?" My daughter has a peanut allergy. We always kept an EpiPen at home. But on her birthday, my husband took the only one and gave it to his first love's son. He said, "Tommy's school has a field trip. Serena's worried something might happen. What's the big deal about lending it?" Later, my daughter accidentally ate peanut butter. Her face turned blue and she couldn't breathe. I rushed her to the hospital and called my husband seventeen times. He didn't answer. His first love's son had just won first place in a speech contest. He was in the audience, taking photos of the two of them. When my daughter woke up, her first words weren't "Where's Daddy?" She just clutched the hem of my shirt and whispered, "Mommy, can I stop being a Lawson?" I looked at the needle marks on the back of her hand and nodded. "Yes." "From now on, you'll have Mommy's last name."

After my daughter was admitted to the ICU for liver failure, the doctor said she had at most seven days to live. My wife, Jessica Holland, grabbed my hand tightly. "Kevin, Tanya can still be saved!" The doctor handed me the organ donation consent form, but I didn't take it. Instead, I pulled out three documents and laid them in front of Jessica. "Sign these, and I'll donate." She glanced down and completely froze. The first was a divorce agreement, the second was a waiver of joint assets, and the third was a share transfer agreement. Jessica held a 12% stake in Eterspring Pharmaceutical. She earned that by building the business with me for eight years. I wanted her to transfer every single share to me. "Are you out of your mind?!" My mother rushed up and slapped me. She looked at me in disbelief. "Tanya's in there, fighting for her life, but you're using her to force your wife to divorce you without taking any assets?" I pushed the pen toward Jessica. "Once all the paperwork is done, I'll do the surgery immediately. All three documents must be signed." Jessica grabbed the divorce agreement and threw it in my face. I walked out without looking back.

According to the family tradition of the Denvers, I could only marry Elaine Denver if I picked an ace out of a pack of cards. I had picked out other cards for the past five years, but this year I cheated by bringing my own ace card, and I waited happily for Elaine to return home to marry me. However, she suddenly went missing. My childhood friend suddenly appeared after getting drunk, and he leaned in close to me with a puzzled look on his face. "How did you manage to get an ace when there wasn’t one to begin with?" That was when a notification from a family group chat that I had seen before popped up on his phone. Elaine had just shared a picture of my illegitimate brother, Scott Jones, and her getting married. She was leaning in his arms and smiling happily. "I have gotten married to the love of my life and had the cutest baby in the world." This was followed by a picture of a newborn baby. My father was the first to tag Scott. [I'm so happy for you, Scott!] [This is for my grandson!] My future mother-in-law had transferred $400,000 to them and sent a screenshot of the transfer to the group. The family group chat included my childhood friend and several of Elaine's best friends, who used to see me as Elaine's husband. "Elaine and Scott are finally together! Congratulations to the happy lovers!" "Lucas was so gullible to believe that excuse of picking aces. It was a great way to stall for time, and the only way to find some peace for all of us." Something broke inside of me once I knew the truth. My mother was seriously ill, and her dying wish was to see Elaine and me get married. However, everyone knew about her relationship with Scott, and they let me continue waiting for a marriage that would never be. I wiped away my tears and added myself to the group. [Congratulations on your wedding and the baby.]

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.

On the seventh year after we moved overseas, my 13-year-old daughter, Anna Jackman, is hailed as the internationally renowned piano prodigy. No matter how difficult the song is, Anna is capable of weaving beautiful melodies with it. But there's only one song that Anna refuses to play. It's a seemingly ordinary lullaby. She's worried that she might end up forgiving that despicable man again once she plays it on the piano. So, when said man, Micah Jackman, turns up on our doorstep with a piano that's handcrafted by a master craftsman and asks Anna to play him the lullaby, she just shakes her head calmly in return. "I don't know how to play that song, sir." Micah's eyes redden immediately. He grabs Anna's hand and navigates it to the piano keys. "That's impossible! Aren't you a piano prodigy, Anna? Haven't you always wanted to have a piano of your own? I've already bought you your own piano this time! From now on, if you have any wishes, you should tell me, and I'll grant them for you." Anna draws back her right hand coldly. "It's fine, sir. I can earn my own money to buy my own piano. You should take the piano back to your daughter." Micah feels as though his heart has plunged into the abyss. He immediately pulls Anna into his arms. "What are you talking about, Anna? You're my only daughter!" But Anna looks a little puzzled. "Didn't you say that Ms. Sinclair's daughter is the only one worthy of becoming your child? Didn't you give the piano you promised for me to Ms. Sinclair's daughter?" Having reached that point, Anna just smiles nonchalantly at Micah. "It's fine, sir. Since you like Ms. Sinclair, you can just raise her daughter. I'm already content enough with Mom by my side."

After my brother and fake heir, Damon Stewart, runs someone over, he frames me for it. My fiancee immediately breaks off our engagement and marries him. I'm facing prison time, but Crystal Morgan—my childhood sweetheart who's also a lawyer—resolutely chooses to marry me. She works tirelessly to clear my name, and eventually she gets Damon sent to prison. However, her family runs into financial trouble, and her ailing mother is facing prison time herself. To repay a debt of gratitude, I, an accountant, take the blame for the crime and spend seven years in prison. But on the day I'm released, I overhear Crystal and her mother, Lilian Murphy, talking from behind the gates. "Crystal, Elijah loves you so deeply. If he knew that you married him to get Damon off the hook and sign the leniency agreement for his parents' deaths, how heartbroken would he be?" Lilian questions angrily. "I didn't want to either, but his parents are already dead," Crystal replies. I feel my mind reeling. Damon is the one who killed my parents? Lilian sighs. "You signed the leniency agreement, so Damon didn't even have to go to prison. Why did you still frame Elijah and send him to prison?" "If I didn't send him to prison, there was no way we could keep the truth hidden. What, was I supposed to sit back and watch Damon spend seven years behind bars?" My heart clenches painfully. Seven of the best years of my life were spent behind four prison walls, all for Damon's sake. It turns out the mutual love I thought we shared is nothing but a lie. Since that's the case, I'm done with Crystal.

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."

My son, Tyler, never really had his dad around growing up. Because my husband, Ethan, was a top doctor, always working late. He pulled countless patients back from the brink of death, but he misdiagnosed his own son's pneumonia as a simple cold. All because he was on the phone with his first love, Isabella, while he was supposed to be listening to Tyler's chest. That night, when Tyler's life was on the line, Ethan claimed he was in a critical surgery and hung up on me ten times. I rushed our son to the hospital, only to find out my husband was at a birthday party for Isabella and her daughter. In the dead of night, Isabella posted a photo of the three of them on Instagram. At the same time, my son, Tyler, died in the very hospital where his father worked. The next day, I held a funeral for my son all alone. Three days later, I boarded a plane out of Seattle, clutching a photo of my son. It was only then that my husband, Ethan, found out Tyler was dead, started searching for me like a madman.

Borevia City's golden-boy heir crashed his car and ended up paralyzed from the waist down. Just like that, his shot at taking over Alwyn Corp was on the line. The second the news hit the Twyford mansion, Rory—the girl my parents had raised instead of me—came to me in tears, begging me to take her place and marry Axel. I tightened my grip on my water glass and laughed. "Seriously? You used to act like I was embarrassing because I grew up in a small town. You said I wasn't classy enough for your crowd, so you handed my engagement to Rory. "Now Axel's paralyzed and might lose everything, you want me to switch back and deal with it? Yeah, no." The door flew open. Jared Pritchard—my boyfriend—walked in, pulled Rory against him, and shot me a glare. "Thea, you were supposed to marry Axel in the first place. We're just fixing it. "We're done. Rory and I are getting engaged tomorrow. Once it's official, you're marrying Axel whether you like it or not." I froze, staring at the guy I'd grown up with. "The Alwyns asked for the daughter you've always shown off in public. You barely admit I'm family. You really think they won't notice if you suddenly swap me in for Rory?" Right then, my biological parents, Richard and Diane Twyford, came downstairs with icy expressions and tossed an amended birth certificate in front of me. "Starting tomorrow, we'll tell everyone you're our biological daughter. Rory's been spoiled her whole life. She can't handle being married to a man who can't walk. "It's time you did your part. Marry Axel Alwyn and accept your new life as Mrs. Alwyn." I laughed bitterly. Any hope I still had for them died right there. "Fine. I'll marry him. Just don't come begging me to come back someday."

"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.