Cerita Pendek Plot Twists Romance & Novel Hypocrisy Regret

I've infiltrated into a private group chat called "The Domestication Project". The group owner is in the middle of spamming her experience of her destroying her husband's mental willpower. "I've secretly swapped out my husband's anti-depressants for something else. Every day, I keep telling him that he's a useless, pathetic loser. Once he's hopelessly dependent on me, I'll have him thrown into a mental hospital and take over his company naturally." All the group members keep praising the group owner for being a total professional in gaslighting her husband. Soon, they start asking for her methods and experience. I tap on the photo of an experimental journal that the group owner has just sent. To my shock, the name listed on the mental health report with a diagnosis of severe depression is actually my own! As for the haughty group owner, she's Sophie Hayes, my wife of ten years! Yesterday, that woman told me with red-rimmed eyes that she'd rather go bankrupt just to cure me of my depression! It turns out that her devotion and love toward me for the past ten years is nothing but a grand yet cruel plot to murder me slowly! Since Sophie wants me to get reduced into a lunatic who has lost all of his marbles, then I shall put on an insane show for her. After that, I lock the doors in the mansion and dump the gasoline that I've just bought all over the living room.

My husband, Chandler Goodwin, claims that he doesn't understand what the phrases "silent treatment" or "giving the cold shoulder" mean. Yet, in the three years we have been married, he has never once spoken to me sweetly. The first time we have a falling out, I remain proud and dignified. We end up ignoring each other for seven days straight. The seventh time we have a cold standoff, I start to panic a little. However, despite trying all sorts of methods, he doesn't back down. The 11th time it happens, I have already learned to work through my emotions myself. Chandler doesn't even need to say anything before I take the initiative to apologize first. I simply think that he's just a naturally indifferent person, that nobody can warm his stone-cold heart. Then, on the third year of our marriage, I accidentally ruin his dress shirt while ironing it. Chandler doesn't say a word, but that very night, he packs his things and moves into a hotel. On the third day of being blocked, I head to his company with a handwritten apology. While passing by his office, I spot him leaning over to shoot his angry assistant a doting smile. "I'm sorry for raising my voice at you just now and upsetting you. It's been 57 minutes since you started ignoring me. Please stop giving me the cold shoulder, alright?" I freeze on the spot, the apology letter in my hand practically burning my fingers. As it turns out, it's not that he doesn't know what the silent treatment means—it's just that I've never been the person he wants to coax.

When I get married to Zachary Lennor, I know that he has a younger, depressed sister who's a huge pain in the ass. On our wedding night, she suddenly barges into our room with the excuse that she's terrified of the dark. That's why she wants Zachary to sleep with her. When I get hospitalized due to my illness and need Zachary to take care of me, his sister insists that he go home to eat all three meals with her every day. Otherwise, she'll go on a hunger strike. Even when Zachary and I are on a date, his sister will call him immediately, claiming that her depression is acting up. If he doesn't go home right away, she will jump off a building without hesitation. Unable to take it anymore, I unleash my anger on Zachary's sister. But Zachary is quick to shield her from my ire. With an icy expression, he tells me, "I only have one sister, whereas I can always get myself another wife. If you can't stomach her presence at all, we'll get a divorce right now." I keep tossing and turning in bed at night, unable to sleep at all. That's when I decide to get out of bed just so I can apologize to Zachary and his sister. As soon as I walk to the doorway, I hear a familiar voice whining from the master suite, where Zachary stays. "Zach, since Samantha got so mad at me today, does this mean she's found out that I'm not your actual sister at all, but your ex-wife?" Zachary pauses momentarily before saying reassuringly, "Even if she does, it's fine. Although I do love her, I've already vowed to stay with you forever the day I married you. "So, even though we're already divorced, I will still keep my word. I won't let you go." At that moment, I finally realize that Zachary's so-called younger sister is just a fake identity. Her depression is also a big fat lie. I'm the only one who's been kept in the dark about everything in this performance. In that case, I'm not going to humor these jerks anymore.

The day my husband, Lucas Maxwell, helps his childhood sweetheart—Cecilia Brown, who has cancer—lose her virginity, I leave behind a divorce agreement and walk away. Before I leave, I drop a comment beneath a photo of them on his social media. Their fingers are tightly interlocked in the photo. "Let's get divorced. I wish you both a lifetime of happiness." A minute later, he calls me. "How did I end up marrying someone as selfish as you, Fiona Sinclair? Do you really have the heart to let her die without leaving anything behind?" I sneer, "You're no longer my husband. How is that my problem?" That's when he panics.

I was married to Chad Caldwell for ten years. I met all his girlfriends during our marriage. Whenever he got bored and wanted to move on, I was his best excuse. "If you marry me, you'll end up like her. Too familiar and no spark left." On our anniversary, I wiped tears for his latest ex, a college girl, while he was at the movies with his new fling. She used up a pack of tissues, and I seemed to see my old self in her. Afterward, I asked Chad for a divorce. He was confused. "Why not wait a bit? Maybe I'll turn over a new leaf." I gave a faint smile but said nothing. Instead, I booked a plane ticket and flew across the ocean. If he wouldn't turn around, I'd take the first step.

Jackson Dalton, my roommate, was a deeply disturbed voyeur. His greatest hobby in life was spying on me. Back in school, he stole my underwear. After we started working, he set his sights on sleeping with the woman I loved, Caitlin Watson. Because we were close, he constantly crossed the line, making crude, sexual remarks about Caitlin, who was a flight attendant. "Those legs are insane. Wonder what it’d feel like to have them on my shoulders." Every time he ran his mouth, Caitlin would throw water in his face and curse him out. "Stay the hell away from me, you freak." For my sake, she never called the police on him, but every time he acted up, she made sure to humiliate him in public. The night I successfully proposed, I bought a new house. Jackson showed up with a full set of appliances as an apology gift. Wearing her diamond ring, Caitlin leaned into my arms, smiling like she was the happiest woman alive. All my friends said I was lucky to have such a beautiful and loyal fiancee, who even put my worst friend in his place. Until I got up in the middle of the night for a drink. I noticed the guest room door was slightly open. When I pushed it open, I saw Caitlin wearing a collar and being led on a leash while crawling on the ground.

On the day I drive home from my business trip, I find out that my husband, Matthew Channing, has occupied my parking slot. His SUV is parked haphazardly between two parking slots, leaving me without any space to park my own car at all. I find it funny that Matthew is such a klutz when it comes to things like this. So, I take a video of the situation and upload it to the Internet. Little do I know that it will go viral shortly afterward. Thinking that everyone will laugh at Matthew with me, I'm surprised when I see the comment section. "Don't tell me you got tricked by your husband for real! It's obvious that he has a mistress at home with him right now! Once you reach home and call him to move his car, he'll know that you're back!" "Lady, leave the car be! What's more important right now is the mistress in your bed!" "Do not call your husband and tell him to move his car no matter what! Right now, you have to go home and catch him in the act!"

On the day, my husband, Eugene Doyle, receives the offer to further his studies in the city, he serves me divorce papers instead. I, Maria Johnston, am eight months pregnant with his child. He tries to console me. "Maria, ever since my elder brother, Edgar, passed away, Janice has had nobody taking care of her. She can't survive on her own. "I'll marry her for the time being, just on paper, until she manages to find her footing in the city. After that, I'll come back and marry you again." Everyone assumes that I will patiently and obediently wait for Eugene to return because of my pregnancy. However, I tear up his written oath to me and terminate the pregnancy that same day. Then, with the offer letter for the National Archeology Certification in my hands, I leave our little village and disappear from Eugene's life. Five years later, I become a successful archeologist and return to the same village for a survey. My current husband, Rupert Kingston, can't come at the same time as me due to an emergency meeting, but he has informed the villagers to welcome me with open arms ahead of time. To my surprise, I meet my ex-husband instead. He says, "I know that you lost your baby at eight months. There's no need to be ashamed about it. It's about time you came back after running away from home all those years ago. "Janice is about to give birth. We need you to be her nanny."

My husband's brother dies before my husband and I marry. My mother-in-law has never liked me, and my husband is a mommy's boy. He listens to her when she forces him to remain in mourning for his brother—within the next three years, we can only register our marriage but not have a wedding. To help his widowed sister-in-law past these difficult times, my husband runs over to her place every few days, leaving me alone at home. Anyone who isn't in the know would think I'm the widow! My scheming sister-in-law even tells her child to address my husband as their father instead of uncle. I sneer. "How shameless of you to want your brother-in-law to care for two families at once. Thank goodness the child in my womb doesn't have such a disgusting father."

My fiancée canceled the five-million-dollar investment I'd made in my best friend's company and replaced it with a five-hundred-dollar transfer. She told me that real friendship shouldn't be measured in money. Three days later, she invested a hundred million dollars in her childhood sweetheart's company at the most expensive hotel in Manhattan, in front of Wall Street investors and the media. Everyone started cheering, telling her she might as well just marry the guy. She didn't stop them. Why would she? She believed that no matter what she did, I'd never leave. What she didn't know was that I owned the core system that generated most of Nexora's profits. I'd spent eight years building Nexora, the company she was so proud of, from the ground up. She also didn't know my last name was Hale. I was the sole heir to Hale Global Group, a conglomerate powerful enough to bankrupt Nexora with a single word.

The day our daughter had a high fever, Matt was at a parent-teacher meeting for his first love’s son. I called him, only for her to pick up. Through sobs, she apologized, but Matt quickly grabbed the phone, his tone impatient. "She’s a single mom with a kid. What’s wrong with me looking out for them?" So, I turned to my daughter, who was quietly receiving her IV, and asked softly, "How about it, sweetheart? From now on, it’s just you and me."

Maren Reeves, my best friend, suddenly told me she'd gotten back together with her ex. I tore into her for going back to a man who'd already hurt her, but she only gave me a bitter smile. "Maybe some people are just destined to keep getting tangled up with each other. Renee, I don't need your validation. I just don't want you to be mad at me." At the time, I didn't understand what Maren really meant. I thought she was only worried I'd get worked up over that jerk again. Seeing the conflict on her face, I couldn't bring myself to keep scolding her. I simply hugged her and told her not to settle for anything that made her unhappy. Then, a year later, I went to the hospital because of severe menstrual cramps and unexpectedly saw her leaving the maternity ward. Confused, I was about to approach her when a man hurried over, carefully helping her along and fussing over her every need. In an instant, I instinctively ducked behind the corner, my entire body trembling uncontrollably. Because that man was none other than Isaiah Cole, my husband of three years.

Eight years after running away pregnant, I found myself crossing paths with my ex-husband, Howard Quinn. His friends stared at me in surprise. "So, this is what you have become after leaving Howard? Reduced to a cleaner?" When I was six-months pregnant, I met with an accident. While I lay there, he was staying by the side of another woman, his so-called true love, in labor, never leaving her side. When I confronted him, in pieces, he looked at me bored and impatiently. "Don't be so jealous and petty. I have no time for you. As long as you behave, you'll always be Mrs. Quinn." I couldn't stand it any longer, so I ran away, staying away for eight long years. Now, those sharp eyes glared at me. "Have you had enough? If so, come home." What he didn't know was that my husband and daughter had already made dinner, waiting for me and my son to return home.

When Edna Crossby ditches the marriage registration for the fifth time, I block her contact number and social media accounts on the spot. If she's in any of the social gatherings, I turn down the invitations right away. I'd rather take the long route than walk past the cafe Edna frequents. If she attends a team-building session, I take the day off without hesitation. Even when Edna shows up on my doorstep with gifts in hand on Christmas Eve, I pretend that I'm not home at all. I don't answer any calls from her. I don't respond to texts she sends me. Just like that, I completely fade away from Edna's world. In the past, Edna used to be the focus of my life. My emotions fluctuated all the time because of her. When Edna flakes out on me for the fifth time, I finally snap out of my lovesick stupor. I don't want to live life like this anymore. Rather than getting abandoned time and again, I might as well live my life on my own happily.

Winter came again, and my husband and son broke out in rashes the moment the cold settled in. No doctor identified the allergen. To keep themselves safe, they drew a hard line and moved to a separate house for the season. It did not matter that I slipped and cracked my head open, or that I ended up in the hospital after a car accident. I fought every battle alone. We became strangers who shared a family name, and I became the thing that could kill them. I endured the bitter cold by myself, lonely and aching. I counted the days hoping that spring would bring my family back to me, until I overheard a conversation I was never meant to hear. "Daddy, we only get to see Daphne in winter. Cannot the allergies last a little longer?" Daphne Bullman, my husband's childhood sweetheart. My husband ruffled our son's hair. "All that allergy medicine is not good for you, and Daphne would worry. I will bring you to see her when I can." My son clapped his hands. "Yay! I love the mango candy Daphne gives me in winter, and I get to see her!" Mango. That was the fatal allergen I spent years keeping out of my son's reach. I stood in the freezing wind for a long time before I quietly walked home. Spring returned, and I stopped caring. "Eat whatever you want. If you think I am abusing you, call the police. I do not want custody anyway."

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.

When an earthquake strikes, I'm trapped under one end of a collapsed slab. On the other end is the student I've been sponsoring. My husband, Sebastian Chesson, tells the rescue team to save the student first. The rescuers hesitate. "The other victim might not make it if we do." Sebastian replies coldly, "The other one is my wife. I'll sign a waiver—she's not that easy to kill." I survive, but the three-month-old baby in my womb doesn't. Later, a rescuer hands me a card. "Mr. Chesson said this is five million dollars in exchange for your life." Meanwhile, Sebastian and the student's fairytale romance dominates the trending charts, praised by the internet as the epitome of true love. On our tenth wedding anniversary, I return home to find the student lounging on my bed, wearing my pajamas, playfully teasing Sebastian. Just then, a call comes in from Sebastian's student, who's been eyeing me for a long time. His voice is low, flirtatious, and sinful. "Ms. Sinclair, you always remind me to get to bed early… If you really care, why don't you move in and make sure I do?"

When Naomi Sullivan married me, she was already ten million dollars in debt. I spent the last five years working three jobs to help her pay off her "debts" while providing for her as well as our son, Shane Lewis. Not once did I ever complain about anything. All along, I firmly believed that my efforts would pay off, and we would eventually lead a good life together. Last week, our company finally secured a massive investment. Naomi and I hugged as we celebrated the occasion. I thought that the hard times were finally over. Today, I ended up seeing Naomi featured in the financial news. Dressed in a formal gown, she was hailed as the sole heiress to a multi-billion-dollar empire. She was shown engaged in an animated conversation with her "investor", Jared Lewis. The news headline read, "Naomi Sullivan Completes Five-Year Adversity Trial, Proves Her Ability to Build from Scratch to the Board of Directors". I trudge home in a daze. When I get there, the five-year-old Shane is playing with the latest limited-edition toy robot. He looks at me with a frosty, distant expression that bears an uncanny resemblance to his mother's. "Mommy told me everything. You failed the trial, Daddy. You care too much about money."

Wendy staggered forward at the hospital entrance. She held the Seventy Thousand Dollars she had received for selling her kidney. Her pale face carried a satisfied smile. That was enough to cure Lucas. She thought it was worthy to sell off her kidney for his life. She ignored her post-surgery weakness, and stumbled all the way to the hospital ward. Her heart ached even more as she looked at the frail man lying in bed. "Lucas, your lowly girlfriend is not around. Why put on a show?" "Shut up! I'm perfecting my acting. How else could I fool her?" A familiar, teasing voice came from inside. Wendy's hand froze on the door handle. What did he mean... by fooling her? Laughter and exclamations erupted from the room. "You're smart, Lucas! A fake medical report was all it took to make that woman believe you had cancer!" "I heard she handed over all her savings; all she had was only Eight Thousand Dollars!" "Eight Thousand Dollars? Lucas could simply spend more than that on a single bottle of liquor at the bar. Her money is worthless, yet she actually offers it."

My husband’s newly hired secretary had a terrible temper. Just because he casually picked a bite of food for me at the dinner table, she flew into a fit of rage and smashed every plate and bowl in the house. Then, she threatened to fake her death and deregister herself, saying she would disappear from my husband’s world forever. The moment he heard that, my husband panicked. He immediately abandoned me even though I was about to go into lung cancer surgery, and sped off on the highway, reenacting some over-the-top CEO drama of chase and pursuit. At three in the afternoon, the surgery was scheduled to begin. My husband called. His tone was apologetic. “As a boss, I have a responsibility to ensure the safety of my employees. “Once I find her and make sure she’s safe, I’ll definitely come to the hospital and accompany you for your surgery. I’ll even make it up to you with a wedding trip!” However, I no longer wanted to wait for him. “Julian, let’s get divorced.”