Cerita Pendek Feel-Good Story Romance & Novel Freak Face Slapping

I was shattered to learn that my precious child was not mine. My own flesh and blood was gone forever. I was not going to crumble under the weight of the revelation or consume myself with hysteria or grief. Instead, I channeled my pain into putting my mother-in-law behind bars and breaking my husband before moving on with my life.

The day before New Year's, my younger brother announced he was bringing his girlfriend home for dinner. Excited, I drove my new car to pick them up, taking my daughter along with me. However, as soon as his girlfriend got in the car, her face darkened. "Henry, you didn't tell me your sister was staying at your place—and with a kid!" she snapped. I frowned and was about to explain when my brother quickly interjected, "She's not staying. After dropping us off, she'll be heading to a hotel." Only then did his girlfriend's expression ease. I swallowed my discomfort and asked my brother what he was planning. He leaned in with a conspiratorial grin and said, "Sis, don't cause any trouble for me, okay? My girlfriend is the daughter of the Cromwell Group's CEO!" My eyes widened in shock. Was not the Cromwell Group the same company my ex-husband had just handed over to me as part of our divorce settlement?

Three days after my daughter was born, my husband was killed by a car while running to the store for some groceries. I was so devastated I passed out. When I came to, his funeral was already over, and a stranger was standing in my living room. "I'm your husband's twin brother. I'll be around to help take care of you and the baby." Later, I locked myself in the bathroom with his urn, sobbing uncontrollably, when I overheard his buddies talking through the open window. "Dude, you’re so cool blooded. Inventing a twin brother just to dodge diaper duty? What's next—triplets and quadruplets coming out of the woodwork too?"

My wife, Valerie Larson, had a congenital heart condition. Despite that, she still wanted to have a child with her first love, Eugene Dyer. I refused without a second thought. Ten months later, Eugene's mother, Susan Turner, passed away. Her eyes were still wide open as if refusing to accept death without ever holding her grandchild. Overcome with guilt for failing his mother, Eugene took his own life in his small, rundown apartment. Valerie, consumed by grief and anger, took us on a road trip, only to crash the car head-on into a truck without hesitation. She shouted, "It's your fault Eugene died! If you had let me give him a child, he never would have ended up like that! His whole family is gone, so yours doesn't deserve to live either!" When I opened my eyes again, I found myself back on the day Valerie first asked to have Eugene's child. This time, I forced a small smile and said, "Darling, go ahead. Our whole family will support you."

My husband, Matthew Lorenzo, dies unexpectedly. Soon after, my in-laws come to me with an outrageous suggestion. "Why not let Matthew’s twin brother take you in and look after you? After all, your child needs a father." My sister-in-law, Felicia Dare, furiously calls me a shameless woman. I turn to look at Matthew's brother, Michael Lorenzo. It's like staring at Matthew's face all over again. The grief hits me hard. Just as I'm about to talk my in-laws out of this ridiculous idea, I overhear a conversation behind the door between them and "Michael". "Michael was the one who died. Why did you lie and let everyone think it was you?" Matthew sighs. "The one I love is Felicia. Faking my death was the only way I could be with her openly. And as for this nonsense about taking Luna in and looking after her—drop it. "As for Luna, I gave her a child and a respectable marriage. I don't owe her anything." I turn around and see my daughter standing there with her eyes red. She asks, "Mommy, does Daddy not want us anymore?" I kneel down, gather her into my arms, and hold back the ache in my chest. "Sweetheart, your uncle just wants to protect the person he loves. We shouldn't disturb him; it's time we start our new life."

On the day of my wedding, my fiance, Oliver Parker, asks me to take off my wedding gown. He wants to let his childhood friend, Angela Summers, be the bride instead. In helplessness, he tries to explain, "Angela has leukemia. Her dying wish is to be a bride and have a wedding. Once I've fulfilled her wish, I'll marry you." Everyone seems to think I'll just go along with it and wait for him to come back and marry me. After all, I've spent three years preparing for this wedding. I've poured my heart into every detail and devoted so much time to making it perfect. However, while Oliver and Angela celebrate their wedding that night, I gave my biological parents a call to tell them I'm coming to be with them. I board a red-eye flight out of Stonevale, leaving everything behind without looking back. … Three years later, I flew back to Stonevale with my husband, Daniel Holden, to attend the anniversary celebration of the Holden Group's Stonevale branch. However, I never expected to run into Oliver at the airport. "You've been gone for three years. Isn't that enough time to let things go? Angela's leukemia is cured, and we're divorced now. Come back to me. Let's finally have our wedding. Don't be so stubborn anymore!"

It's Family Day at my daughter, Hannah Neel's, preschool, but my wife, Samantha Miller, says she has to work and tells both Hannah and me not to go. Seeing the disappointment on Hannah's face breaks my heart, so I bring her to school anyway. As soon as we step through the gates, I see Samantha. She's holding her childhood friend—Oscar Barnett's—hand, with a little boy clutching her other. The three of them look like a perfect family, laughing and chatting, as if they belong together. When Samantha sees us, her smile fades, and she lets go of Oscar's hand. "Zach, it's not what you think. Oscar's raising his son alone. Today's his fifth birthday, and he just wanted to give him a little taste of a mother's love," she says quickly. I study her for a moment, then kneel and gently take Hannah's hand in mine. "Sweetheart, say hello to the lady."

Damien and his ex-wife got divorced five years ago, and then he married me. When I married him, he had a 13-year-old adopted daughter named Lily. After our marriage, Damien treated me exceptionally well and I always treated Lily like my own daughter, even when she occasionally showed hostility towards me, I didn't mind. That's normal for a teenage girl. Until my father was accidentally hit by a car and left in a vegetative state, I accidentally overheard a conversation between Damien and his assistant. "Boss, I don't get it. Why block the craniotomy?" the assistant asked, sounding confused. "The doctors say there’s a high chance he could recover. Why are you insisting on conservative treatment?" "He can't wake up," Damien’s voice was suppressed with pain. "He saw Lily's face." I clamped my hand over my mouth, my fingernails digging deep into my flesh. Lily is the adopted daughter of Damien and his late ex-wife, Sarah. Sarah died saving Damien, so he has always treated Lily with a mix of guilt and utter indulgence. Damien continued, his tone incredibly conflicted. " But Lily didn't do it on purpose! She is only thirteen... If she gets a criminal record, her life is over. Sarah’s only dying wish was for me to take care of Lily and see her grow up safe and sound. I can't give up on her." The assistant fell silent for a few seconds. "And what about your wife?" "I’ll make it up to her," Damien’s voice softened. "I’ll provide her with the most prosperous life, and secure the largest private ward along with the best caregivers for her father who’s suffered from the car accident. I don’t care how much it costs." My heart sank completely. Just because you feel guilty towards Sarah and Lily, you're going to sacrifice my father? With trembling hands, I saved the recording and had my lawyer prepare the divorce papers. But when I completely disappeared, the once powerful CEO went mad.

On my wedding day, 12 confetti cannons go off as the bridal car pulls up to the venue. My fiancee, Giselle Warren, accepts the cash gift Dad offers her—but she refuses to step out of the car. Assuming the amount isn't enough, Dad quickly reaches into his suit jacket for another envelope, but Giselle shakes her head. "That won't be necessary." Then, with every guest watching in stunned silence, she pulls out a bag filled with electronic tracking monitors. They're numbered 1 through 63, each tag labeled with the name of a relative on my family's guest list. "Tell your family to put these on right now," she says coldly. "Otherwise, I'm not getting out of this car." Dad forces a nervous, accommodating smile. He doesn't know what the devices are—he just knows this is the most important day of my life. He reaches out to take the bag. My fists clench, and I step in front of him, blocking his hand. Giselle's face hardens. "Last month, when Shawn invited your family over for dinner, an expensive watch and 20,000 dollars in cash went missing from his room! "This is the most important day of my life. If your redneck relatives start swiping bottles of wine, hoarding party favors, and stealing from my guests today, I won't survive the embarrassment!" Shawn Warren is her foster brother. They aren't related by blood, but she defends him like family. Dad's face flushes a deep, painful red, but he still places a trembling hand on my shoulder. "Just let them wear them. Don't upset your bride on your wedding day. Your mom and I will explain it to the relatives. Don't let this delay the ceremony. "If they haven't done anything wrong, wearing them won't hurt." I watch Dad's shoulders slump in humiliation as he turns away. Without hesitation, I pull out my phone and dial the venue manager. "Cancel the reception. The wedding is off."

My wife and I had kept our marriage secret for three years. Then she became a fraud-busting influencer with ten million followers, and I was the first person she exposed. On her livestream, she sobbed that I was a freeloader who beat her, bled her dry, and even forced her to entertain men over drinks for money. The internet buried me in abuse. Delivery orders I never placed and funeral wreaths piled up outside my door. Her top donor announced he was going to break my legs to get justice for her. On camera, my wife was a fragile victim. Off camera, she was texting me threats. If I did not sign the thirty-million-dollar penthouse downtown over to her, she would burn my name to the ground. She thought that owning public opinion meant owning me. What she did not know was that her top donor, the man showering her with gifts every night, was one of my security guards. And when she brought New York's richest man onto her stream, intending to expose my supposed crimes, something else happened. The richest man in New York turned toward where I was standing and called me boss.

Having just rescued an elderly woman's grandson, I collapsed onto the ground outside the blazing building, utterly exhausted. My girlfriend Lucy Jenner, however, clung to me and cried pitifully, "Chris, please, can you go in one more time? My baby's still inside!" I knew the "baby" she was talking about was her pet dog. "The fire's gone out of control. If I go in now, I'll die." Lucy shot me an accusing look. "How can you be so heartless? Is a dog's life not a life? I've always treated Candy like my own child. If you won't even save my helpless baby, how can I entrust my life to you?" In my previous life, these seemingly gentle words forced me to go back into the flames like a knife on my back. After that, the building collapsed. I was burned and later died. Lucy then leveraged the attention she gained from her tragic loss of a heroic boyfriend to become a famous influencer with millions of followers, raking in a fortune. When I opened my eyes again, I was back at this very moment, when she was pleading with me. Watching her tearful face, I yanked my sleeve back. "You're right, all lives are equal." I pointed at the smoke-billowing doorway. "Oh, kind mother, your baby is waiting for you. Go save her."

At the hockey game, my neighbor Bianca confessed her feelings to the team captain, Hudson, right in front of everyone. The moment she finished speaking, someone dumped an ice-cold soda right over her head. "Look at this greasy freak. Does she really think she has a chance with our star player?" The bleachers instantly erupted into cruel laughter. I watched her soaked hair stick to her face as tears mixed with the dripping soda. I walked over and shielded her from the cruel jokes. Then I pushed through the crowd and offered her a tissue. She slapped my hand away. "Stop being so fake, Harper! You're the biggest hypocrite in this school!" The next morning, I woke up and realized I was in Bianca's body. Before I could process it, my phone rang. It was a FaceTime call from Bianca from my own account. On the screen, wearing my face, she gave a smug smile. "I paid a witch a fortune to swap our bodies." "Now it's your turn to see what it feels like to be a loser everyone steps on." "Your life as a top model is mine now. As for Hudson and his insane abs, I'm keeping them for myself!" I hung up, stared at myself in the mirror, and smiled. I finally escaped the toxic mother who was draining the life out of me. I was also totally free from that cheating jerk who only played games with my heart. This idiot had no idea what kind of nightmare was hiding beneath my supposedly flawless skin.