Mga Maiikling Kuwento at Nobelang Hypocrisy Romance Cheating

Zane Mercer and I had grown up together. Both our families took it for granted that we would end up together after graduation. He never bothered to hide it, either. Whenever someone brought us up, he would say, “Vivian gets scared so easily. She can’t manage without me.” I believed him for over a decade. Until the first department dinner at college. The prettiest girl in our department carried her drink over and sat beside him, smiling as she asked, “I heard you have a childhood sweetheart. Is she your girlfriend?” Amid the teasing and excited chatter, my cheeks flushed. I waited for him to nod. But Zane hesitated. “No. She’s just the girl next door.” Someone nudged the girl beside him. “Then you’ve got a chance!” She smiled brightly. “I’ll be counting on you to look after me from now on.” Zane didn’t pull away. Instead, he smiled back. “Sure.” In that moment, I remembered how he’d worried about me getting sunburned during the summer camp and gone out in the middle of the night to buy me sunscreen. I remembered how he’d held my hand while we filled out our college applications and promised we’d keep walking through life together. So all those years of affection meant nothing compared to one smile from her. On the way back, he caught up with me to explain. “Selene’s pretty straightforward. I just didn’t want to embarrass her.” I asked, “So it’s fine to embarrass me instead?” He frowned. “Vivian, since when did you get so sensitive?” I said nothing more. That night, I changed all our photos to private. From then on, I would be nothing more than the girl next door.

I don't kick up a fuss when Jasper Sutton's childhood sweetheart once again takes my spot in the front passenger seat. Instead, I obediently head to the backseat to sit with his good friend, Jonathan Clayton. When we drive along a bumpy road, my knee brushes against Jonathan's toned thigh. I deliberately leave it there, and he doesn't move. We stop for a break at a rest area. Jasper's childhood sweetheart clings to him as they head to the restroom. As soon as the door is shut, Jonathan grabs the back of my neck and pulls me in for a kiss. As I descend into the throes of passion, I can't help thinking it's no wonder people like to cheat.

The last time I argued with my husband, he slammed the door on me and left. I was so upset that I died from a heart attack. Meanwhile, he took his lover and her son traveling to take his mind off things. The entire time, our daughter, who was just a child, was abandoned at home for seven days with my corpse. At last, when Eliott remembered me and my daughter, he returned home to see my corpse. Having fallen sick, my daughter was all skin and bones. When Eliott realized his mistake, he hugged our daughter tightly and broke down crying in front of my grave. My daughter pulled away from him and hid behind my gravestone. She hissed sharply at him, “Who do you think you are? Don't disturb Mommy’s rest!”

Henry Upton and I have been secretly dating for five years now. One day, I pay a visit to our mentor, Professor Elaine Harding, bringing a gift basket with me. During our conversation, she suddenly mentions my good friend, Ruby McCain. "You know, during our time at the lab, Henry and Ruby showed the best chemistry. They were practically inseparable, always having their meals and going everywhere together. I've always wondered when they will finally make things official and get married." My smile stiffens, but Professor Harding doesn't notice a thing. She pats the back of my hand and says gladly, "Fortunately, the good news is finally about to come. Henry told me that he intends to propose to Ruby as soon as the awards ceremony is over tomorrow. He even asked me to be there and witness the moment. Considering your relationship with Ruby, I'm sure you'll be the maid of honor." For a moment, I forget to breathe. Just then, the doorbell rings. Henry stands on the doorstep with a gift basket in one hand. The other is tightly clasped with Ruby's hand, their fingers intertwined. The air seems to freeze. Henry's eyes meet mine, and his flash with panic. However, his instinctive reaction is to step to the side a little, shielding Ruby behind him. My fingers clench around my phone until my palm starts to ache. On the screen is the message Henry sent me this morning. "Darling, once the awards ceremony is over tomorrow, I'll make our relationship public. I'll make you the happiest bride in the world." But as it turns out, it's not his relationship with me that's about to go public tomorrow. The future he speaks of has never included me. I remain standing as I watch Professor Harding greet the couple with a smile. Seeing the two of them stand side by side sends a sharp wave of pain through my chest, radiating throughout my body. It is at this very moment that I finally realize the truth. At last, I understand why my relationship with Henry has been a secret all these years. The truth is, I was always meant to remain in the shadows for good.

My fiancé's first love was taking photos on a cliff before the landslide. To save her, he actually left me behind on the crumbling edge. I pleaded with him to save me. "Lucy isn't physically strong—she can't handle this alone. You've always been resilient. I'll get Lucy to safety first, then come back for you." Their silhouettes vanished over the ridge. After a brief commotion, everything went silent. Including me, with my freshly sprained ankle. When he saw the news of my death, he completely fell apart.

After waiting 17 long years, Huntley Gray finally offers to meet my mother to discuss us getting married. Mom and I sit in a private room in the restaurant, waiting for three hours, but he never shows up. As we leave Room 301, I come face-to-face with him at the door to Room 302. His hand is still wrapped around the waist of a woman holding a freshly minted marriage certificate. I know her. Her name is Quinn Pallard, also known as the delinquent who bullied me all through high school. A crowd surrounds them, laughing and teasing. "So you angst-filled couple finally got your happily ever after!" The woman who said that and is carrying Quinn's purse is my childhood best friend—the same friend who took a slap to the face in high school just to protect me. "Getting 14,000 dollars in wedding gifts just because you two have been dating for 14 long years? Man, you really know how to get the most bang for your buck!" The one patting Huntley on the shoulder and teasing him is his childhood best friend—the same man who swore to me that if Huntley married anyone other than me, none of the guys in their friend circle would show up. "Getting a marriage license isn't enough. You still need an actual wedding. When the time comes, we'll just keep it from Ainsley like we've been doing." The ones giving him this solemn reminder are Huntley's parents—the same parents who called me two days ago, urging me to get Huntley to walk down the aisle with me. My vision blurs. Their figures seem to overlap, then pull apart again. It turns out that out of the 17 years I've spent waiting for Huntley, he's spent 14 of them loving my high school bully. And everyone knows. I'm the only one who's been kept in the dark, like a complete and utter fool.

On the day Mom's condition turned critical, I stared at the mounting hospital bill and called my husband. He didn't even hesitate. Half a million dollars appeared in my account within minutes. But when I tried to use it, the transfer was frozen — pending review. It never cleared. Not even by the time Mom was wheeled into surgery. I crouched in the hospital hallway and called him again and again. No one picked up. On the seventieth call, he finally answered. "Honey! They're starting the surgery. Mom's in so much pain right now. I'm begging you." All I got back was the flat drone of a dropped call. I waited. And waited. I waited long enough to receive Mom's death notice. I waited long enough to see what his secretary had posted: a photo of a necklace worth a fortune, wrapped around her neck. [One offhand "I like it," and Mr. Gilmer wired me half a million dollars just like that. [Guess this wild little kitten finally found the collar that fits.] Robert Gilmer finally deigned to call me back. "Accounting still needs to sign off on it. Can't your mom wait a little longer?" I looked over at my own mother, standing right there beside me outside the operating room, very much alive. And that was when it hit me. He'd thought the one dying was my mother.

When I am diagnosed with congenital heart disease, I am forced to leave the dance company and give up the career I have spent my entire life working toward. My best friend, Vivian Carter, steps into my place, promising to fulfill my dream in my stead. My boyfriend, Ethan Bennett, proposes to me on the spot. He swears that no matter what happens to me—or what becomes of me—he will never leave my side. Over the next five years, I devote myself to helping Vivian rise through the ranks until she becomes the company's principal dancer. With my support, Ethan's career flourishes as well. And through it all, they never stop telling me they are searching for a way to cure me. This year, while both of them are busy preparing for an upcoming competition, I go to my follow-up appointment alone. But when I receive the results, I am stunned. There is nothing wrong with my heart. Overwhelmed with joy, I clutch the medical report to my chest and rush home, eager to share the news with them. Then, before I can step inside, I hear voices coming from within. Vivian speaks first. "Evelyn's follow-up appointment is coming up. Are you sure nothing will go wrong?" Ethan's voice is calm and unconcerned. "I already took care of it. Her test results will still show that she has heart disease." He pauses before adding, "Besides, she hasn't danced in five years. Even if she somehow finds out, what can she possibly do?" Vivian lets out a quiet laugh. "You're right." I freeze outside the door. The blood drains from my face as their words sink in. So this is the truth. My best friend and the man who promised to love me forever have been lying to me all along. Every promise. Every act of devotion. Every sacrifice I thought they had made for me. It has all been a lie.

There's an earthquake. I'm trapped underneath the debris with another young woman. "This woman's chest has been pierced by a steel bar. We have to save her immediately." The rescuers start to approach me when my husband, Quintus Ford, suddenly darts in the other direction. "She's pregnant! Save her first!" I look at him to see him staring at the other young woman in panic. He doesn't know I'm pregnant, too. The doctor who's trying to stop my bleeding shouts, "I can't stop her bleeding! I suspect she has a blood clotting disorder!" I force myself to nod and look at Quintus desperately. However, he says, "I'm her husband. I'll bear the responsibility if anything goes wrong."

The day we take our graduation pictures, I come across a photographer's post. In the caption, he writes, "I've been a photographer for ten years, and this is the first time I've ever done a wedding shoot on the same day as the bride's and groom's graduation! "They're both gorgeous, and they're incredibly patient. The groom doesn't even touch his phone. He just keeps gazing at the bride with so much love. "I spend all day shooting, and my camera's memory card is completely full. But getting to photograph a couple this perfect makes it all worth it!" I think about how my boyfriend, Zack Warner, is absent from our graduation photo session that morning, leaving us without a single picture together in our caps and gowns. Still disappointed about that, I open the photos, feeling envious. The moment I see the bride's and groom's faces, my breathing quickens. The groom is Zack, my boyfriend of four years. He always says we'll get married once he finds a stable job. The bride is my best friend, Wendy Carter, the campus belle. Just two hours ago, Wendy comforts me over WhatsApp, saying there are plenty of men in the world. If I'm upset with Zack, I can always find someone else. But now, she's holding Zack's hand, their fingers intertwined. She's the bride-to-be about to begin her happy new life.

Penelope Rivera's little boy toy, Theodore Schneider, is throwing another tantrum. She slides the divorce papers across the table toward me. "Just sign them for show. It's to keep Teddy happy." I clench the cuff of my suit and nod in silence. I sign my name in one swift stroke. As I'm walking out, I hear one of her girlfriends teasing, "Samuel's way too easygoing. Does he actually do everything you say?" Penelope takes a graceful sip of red wine and smirks. "Wanna bet?" They bet that I will quietly go through with the divorce at the courthouse, even if my eyes are red with tears. Listening their laughter, I rub my thumb over my phone screen and reply to the message I've just received. "Will you marry me?" it says. "I will."

I've had severe acrophobia since birth. My legs weaken, and I get dizzy even when I'm just standing on the second-floor balcony. For the past six months, my fiancé, Oliver Bayley, has been arranging "desensitization training" for me. First, he puts me on a 33-foot-tall platform and leaves a single ladder for me to climb down. I grip the handles and cry until I'm dehydrated, but he just records my anguished expression through the surveillance cameras. Later, Oliver takes me cliff swinging. He also forces me to walk across a glass bridge that's built high in the sky. He sighs and shakes his head every time I scream in terror, kneel on the floor, and refuse to move. "My marital home is on the top floor of an apartment with a river view, Holly," he says. "How are you going to marry me if you can't even conquer your fear?" I assume Oliver's frustration stems from wanting to cure my phobia. However, I realize that's not the case when he takes me to an abandoned observation tower in the suburbs. The glass observation deck at the top of the tower is in disrepair. The railings have also come loose. Oliver blindfolds me when he leads me up the tower. He then suddenly disappears. When I rip the blindfold off, I realize that I'm over 300 feet above the ground. A wave of dizziness crashes over me, and warm liquid trickles uncontrollably down my thighs and drenches the hems of my pants. In my panic, I pick up the Bluetooth earbud that Oliver accidentally leaves behind. I hear the raucous laughter of my best friend, Carrie Kirby, and my brother, Elias Alden, echo through the earbud. "Did you film that? Holly wet herself out of fear!" Carrie stifles her laughter and says, "I got it! Her pants are soaked, and she's crying on the floor like a baby. Lydia will definitely laugh when she sees this." "Oliver's really something else," Elias chimes in teasingly. "How did he come up with the idea to make Lydia happy by showing her Holly's humiliating appearance when Holly's acrophobia leaves her terrified? Lydia's depression has improved a lot recently." Oliver lets out a nonchalant chuckle. "Lydia wouldn't have been harassed by the netizens and developed depression if it wasn't for Holly. This is just Holly's way of compensating her, making her feel better by showing her humiliating side." The freezing winds that billow past me feel like blades slicing against my skin. The biting cold burrows deep into my bones. It turns out that, for the past six months, my "desensitization training" has been an elaborate ruse they came up with to make Lydia feel better. As for me, I'm the only clown on the stage.

Julian Carter orders me to clean up his childhood sweetheart's new home when I'm still recovering from childbirth. "Everyone knows you're good at home economics! Things will be much easier for us with your help." I'm wrapping things up when I feel something dampen my pants. The discharge trickles down my leg and onto the floor. Nadine Stephens covers her mouth and cries dramatically, "What's that? It's so disgusting!" She even bends over and pretends to gag. Awkwardness and shame wash over me, making me want to dig a hole and hide myself. However, Julian grabs me and scowls. "I told you to come here to help. You're causing trouble on purpose, aren't you?" It's Valentine's Day, but he chases me out and tells me to go home. I wait for him for the whole night with our child in my arms. He only returns the following day with love bites on his neck. That's when I know we won't have a future together.

On the day Shane Jackson and I registered our marriage, his infatuated secretary pushed me off a building. I fractured two ribs, lost my baby instantly, and slipped into a coma. Shane stayed by my side and told everyone I was his only wife, never leaving my bedside. But when no one was watching, he pressed that secretary against the hospital bed and murmured, "If it weren't for you, Lily and I would already have a three-year-old child. You owe us a baby. This is what you must repay her." Joanna Rogers trembled in his arms, eyes full of tears. "I'm sorry, Mr. Jackson. I loved you too much. I'll accept whatever punishment you give me." A moment later, I heard their heavy breathing. My eyes, which had been shut for three years, suddenly opened. Tears rolled down my cheeks.

At my mom's funeral, my lecturer wife, Vivian Carter, decides to have a rendezvous with her student, Noah Myers, with ten packs of condoms in her bag. Once they are done with their passionate lovemaking, Noah uploads a photo to his social media feed. It features a red-faced Vivian lying on his bed. Meanwhile, the clothes of mourning that she's worn to the funeral are strewn all over the floor. The caption reads, "The only who's not loved is the actual homewrecker here. My relationship has finally borne fruit!" His feed goes wild with comments. Everyone mocks me for being a shameless simp for Vivian, and that I've been ruining Noah's relationship with her this whole time. My mentor, Avery Sanders, is sick with worry. But I, on the other hand, merely brew myself a cup of coffee. Then, I say lightly, "Since he likes uploading his intimate photos that much, I might as well upload photos of his and Vivian's bastard child as well as their paternity tests. Here's the caption—I, the legal husband, am now defending my pride as a married man. "Now, I'd like to see if Noah and Vivian are capable of bearing the consequences of pissing off my prestigious and wealthy family!"

On the day my family went bankrupt, my older sister fled the country overnight to escape her wedding. When I returned home after selling off every luxury item I owned, my alcoholic father drugged me and sent me to the bed of Tristan Chevalier, a man with intermittent explosive disorder. Once the effects of the drug wore off, he realized something was wrong. His eyes bloodshot with rage, he wrecked Chevalier Manor. He was even willing to sever ties with his family just to go abroad and explain everything to my sister. In the end, however, Tristan's grandmother, Donna, threatened to take her own life, forcing him to marry me and register our marriage. Whenever Donna pressured him to have a child with me, he would deliberately wait until his intermittent explosive disorder was acting up before taking me with brutal force. Afterward, even when I lay on the bed covered in blood, he would not spare me a second glance. "Sylvia Jefferson, consider this my reward to you this time. If you can't get pregnant, you'd better be prepared to spend the rest of your life as a widow!" After that, I tried everything I could think of to seduce him, but he refused to touch me, not even with a finger. Instead, he tormented me even more cruelly. In public, I was the once-down-and-out heiress who had married into a wealthy family, living the life of a pampered society wife. Behind closed doors, however, he gave me only twenty dollars a day to keep myself fed. Then, one night, I took advantage of his drunken state and climbed into his bed, hoping to sleep with him. But he called the police on me and accused me of sexual coercion, turning me into the laughingstock of our entire social circle. Eventually, I stopped longing for a child. I even personally brought my sister back to him and handed him the divorce papers. Yet this time, Tristan refused to let me go.

My best friend and I grow up together, and we each have our childhood friends. When we're old enough, we marry our childhood friends. One is a doctor, and one is a firefighter. We even fall pregnant one after the other. During our pregnancies, we go out for a stroll. Suddenly, I'm rammed over, and I fall into the river. My best friend miscarries after trying to save me, and my child dies in my belly, too. I call my husband. However, he roars, "Cass is in danger; I have to save her first! Stop bothering me!" My best friend is also reprimanded by her husband. After giving birth to the dead fetuses, we both decide to get divorced. However, the two men weep and beg us not to leave.

By the third year of Waylon Ratliff's affair, I had completely lost my mind. I leaked private photos of his assistant, Jenna Gilmore, all over the internet. Then, I poured gasoline over myself and threatened to drag everyone down with me. Jenna was so terrified that she fled the city that very night. I thought I'd won. Well, I couldn't have been more wrong. To cover my legal fees and compensation claims, my brother sold his house. When that still wasn't enough, he turned to loan sharks. Eventually, the debt became too much for him to bear, and he jumped from the roof of a high-rise. The last thing he left behind was a voice recording. His voice was hoarse and exhausted. "Sydney, please stop. There's nothing left. Mom and Dad have already lost everything. They've aged overnight. I can't do this anymore..." My mom clutched his belongings to her chest and cried until she passed out. Meanwhile, my dad seized my throat with his trembling, slim hands, yelling until his voice broke. "How many more people do you need to ruin before you're satisfied?" Tears slipped silently down my cheeks, and that was when I finally came to my senses. After that, I stopped obsessively investigating every woman who got close to Waylon. I stopped demanding an explanation every time I found a lipstick stain on his collar. One night, I even caught him staring at an old photo of Jenna. The longing in his eyes was obvious, but instead of making a scene, I told him to bring her back. Then, Jenna's birthday came around. As she blew out the candles, she made a wish. She wanted to be Mrs. Ratliff for real, even if it was only once. So I printed out the divorce papers, signed every page, and placed them in front of her. Waylon snatched them away before she could touch them and ripped them in half. Then, he seized my chin and forced me to look at him, his gaze piercing. "What happened to you, Sydney? You used to swear you'd rather die than divorce me. So where did all that stubbornness go?"

My CEO boyfriend, Elias Thatcher, had always admired strength, yet he willingly supported a useless intern. Because he loved me more than life itself, or so I thought. When a routine physical revealed that the intern, Zoey Redwood, and I shared the same rare blood type. So, he decided to keep her around as my emergency backup. She became a living blood bank, just in case something ever happened to me. He cooked for her, took her on trips, made handmade gifts, and doted on her at every turn. He said he was doing it for my sake, building up good karma for me. Then, I got into a car accident. Rather than letting the intern donate blood to save me, my boyfriend had blood brought in from miles away. His explanation was gentle, almost tender. She had a cold. He was afraid something in her blood might be passed on to me. The very next day, Zoey was diagnosed with kidney failure. That was when he drugged me and had me wheeled into an operating room, forcing me to donate a kidney. His voice was warm as he explained, "Zoey is your last resort. She has to stay healthy so she can save your life in a real emergency. I can't use her up over every little illness or injury. Having you donate a kidney to her is for your future, too. "I don't want you overthinking things. Once the surgery is over, I'll marry you." What he didn't know was that I already had mid-stage leukemia. His decision to make me donate that kidney had caused my cancer to spread. I was dying. So, I would never get the chance to marry him.

My brother-in-law passed away in an accident. Out of pity for his widow, my husband decided to be the breadwinner for both families. After that, my husband and son both gave all their love to my widowed sister-in-law. On her birthday, my husband and son reserved a restaurant in town for her party. I was plucking corn in the field when I started bleeding, a sign that I was miscarrying. I called my husband, begging him to come home and take me to the hospital. However, he scolded me angrily, calling me a liar. “What the hell are you talking about? I haven’t touched you in months! How could you be pregnant?” My son grabbed the phone impatiently as well. “Mom, the teacher said lying is wrong! Aunt Laura’s blowing out the candles now, bye!” We had been married for seven years, yet they had completely forgotten that today was my birthday too. Despairing, I dialed another number. “Mother, I changed my mind. I’m going back to inherit the clinic.”