قصص وروايات قصيرة من فئة Romance وعن Plot Twists وتضم Male POV وتدور في Face Slapping

My girlfriend, Selena Jenkins, and I are committed to a strict 50-50 relationship. We are three years into our relationship, and we split everything down to a single bottle of water. Then, out of nowhere, I get a call from a kidnapper. "We have your girlfriend. Have 150 thousand dollars ready, or she dies!" I calmly launch our app, SplitMate. According to the algorithm, this unexpected incident falls under "shared risk", meaning she is responsible for 50% of the cost. However, after factoring in the personal insurance policy I took out on her behalf, she only needs to pay 35,550 dollars. I send the calculation results to the kidnapper. "This is her share. Please contact her family for the payment. I'm only responsible for my own portion." The line goes silent. A few minutes later, I receive a livestream link. The livestream shows Selena tied to a chair, smiling at her phone. The live chat in front of her is blowing up. "Holy shit! This guy's a monster. This is the craziest livestream I've seen all year!" Later on, she follows the 50-50 rule to a T, but I'm no longer on board with it.

On our wedding night, my wife, Gwen Everett, has received a classified mission that requires her to go on an urgent business trip. After watching her leave with a smile on my face, I quickly turn on the GPS locator in her phone right away. The locator shows that she's making a beeline toward a love motel. Immediately, I hack into the motel's security cameras. In the monitor, I can see Gwen making love to my younger brother, Deacon Hopkins, passionately. After they've used three packs of condoms, Gwen shields her belly while whining cutely to Deacon, "Be gentle to me. Don't hurt the baby, okay?" Deacon just smirks as he begins peppering kisses all over her, making her blush brightly. "Then you should get pregnant for a few more times. At the end of the day, Derek's the one raising them anyway." My heart feels as though it has gotten plunged into the icy abyss. At that moment, my department calls me and asks me about Gwen's whereabouts. As I watch the couple entangling with each other on the screen, I reply calmly, "I want to report Gwen Everett for forging her schedule. She might have betrayed the nation by fleeing with core technology."

Three days before our wedding, I brought supper for my fiancee, Zoe Anderson, at the hospital. I opened the door of the on-call room and heard moaning sounds. Under the dim lights, the intern, Jack Reid, buried his head against Zoe’s fair shoulder. His hand slipped beneath her open white coat. After Zoe saw me, she pushed him away and tidied her clothes. She looked very calm. “Jack’s pursuing me. He’s infatuated with me, and when he found out that we’re getting married, he threatened to kill himself with a scalpel. “I was worried he’d hurt himself, so I comforted him this way. Our wedding will still go on three days later. “You’ve always been very kind. I believe you won’t mind me saving a life this way, right?”

The night before my flight home, my online dating partner texted me: [Tomorrow is our first anniversary. Shall we meet in person?] The moment that message appeared, the group chat filled with rich heiresses of the city that I had secretly snuck in exploded. [Congratulations, Wren! You’re at the last stage of your plan for revenge!!] Before I realized what was going on, a photo of me in my orientation days appeared in the chat. I was 340 pounds in the photo, my facial features were all squashed together, and my entire body was swollen beyond belief. “Whoa, Wren actually dated this piggy for one whole year all to seek revenge for Sean. Wren really loves Sean so much!” The group chat started betting on whether I would kneel and beg Wren not to break up with me when I see her in person tomorrow. Wren texted everyone: [I bet five million dollars that John Jackson will kneel and apologize to Sean for my sake.] The other members of the group chat started placing their bets as well; 500,000 dollars, one million dollars, 1.5 million dollars. Sean’s profile picture appeared, and he texted: [Don't be like this. He’s my older brother, after all. Although he stole my opportunity to go overseas, I’ve gotten used to it since we were young. Don’t go overboard today, just enough to make him regretful.] Looking at all the messages expressing their heartache over Sean, I tightened my grip over my phone.

Late one night, I was in a rideshare with a young woman when the driver told us he had to pick up a third passenger. She immediately started arguing with him. "Don't you dare! Take me home right now, or I'll report you!" "Miss, you booked a shared ride, not a private one—" "I don't care! I'll call the police and tell them you're deliberately going off the designated route and that you're up to something!" The driver's expression darkened by the second, and I could see his temper starting to get the better of him. I quickly paid the fare and pulled the young woman out of the car. She suddenly shrieked, "Help! This man is trying to harass me!" The moment she said it, several passersby rushed over and pinned me to the ground. Before I could even explain what had happened, I was taken to the police station. Overnight, she became the "Rideshare Nightmare Girl" everyone online sympathized with, gained over a million followers. Meanwhile, netizens doxxed me and exposed all my personal information, and countless people online bombarded me with curses and threats. In the end, I died a violent death. When I opened my eyes again, I was back in that shared ride…

Right before bed, I stumbled across a post titled: [My wife has a second family on the side. What do I do?] Something made me click on it. According to the poster, his wife had grown busier over the past year, always traveling for work at the company's branch office. The money she handed over had grown too, and at first, it hadn't worried him. He'd just felt grateful that she was working so hard for their family. Then he saw a post about a man trying on a suit, and he recognized his wife's hand and the back of her figure in the photo at once. He was desperate, and he wanted to know what other people thought he should do. I scrolled further down, curious to see the true face of the woman he was calling a cheat. The next moment, my blood ran cold. Because even with the picture blurred out, I could tell it was the exact photo he'd used, the same one from my own post the week before.

Ten minutes before the IPO, my lower body started burning with intense pain. The pain was so bad that my knees buckled and I fell from the stairs on the third floor. I hit my forehead, which started bleeding, and fresh blood dripped into my eyes. As I convulsed on the ground, my hands covered my crotch as my skin felt like it was being fried in boiling oil. My fiancée, Yvette James, came over in her high heels and kicked me in the thigh. "What's with all the pretense? It's just half a bottle of ointment poured down your pants." Her bestie, Henry Curtis, had his phone held toward me as he livestreamed the situation. He was bent over from laughing too hard. "Check this out, fam! This penniless loser is burning from the waist down! It's too funny!" I could hardly breathe from the pain, and I begged Yvette to get me an ambulance. Yvette rolled her eyes and pushed the camera into my face. "Henry is targeting 100,000 viewers for this live stream! Can you scream louder? Don't be a buzzkill! That thing between your legs is just like a toothpick. That ointment might give you a growth spurt, so you should thank me for it." My lower body had gone numb from the pain, and I saw the comments section ridiculing me. I stopped begging for help as I stared coldly at Yvette while giving the orders to pull her funds. "The wedding is off. Be prepared for your company's bankruptcy."

When the most popular amusement park in Crestwater—Fableland released a special offer for pairs, my girlfriend, Alice Winslow, bought two tickets without a second thought. One for herself. And one for my childhood friend, Troy Prescott. After linking their tickets to their IDs, she turned to me. "Hunter, did you get yours?" By the time I came back to my senses, the two of them were already walking towards the entrance together. I hurriedly bought a single adult ticket. As soon as I got through the gates, Troy messaged the group chat. "Hunter, you're too slow. We're going to check out the attractions first. We're not waiting for you." It was supposed to be a trip for three, but they were always paired off. I was always the one trailing behind. I stared at the message I had typed, "I'll come find you." Then I deleted it. Then I opened my feed and saw a photo Troy had posted of himself and Alice wearing Wally Whiskers hats. The caption read, "Our 30th photo together." During our 10 days in Crestwater, they had taken 30 photos together. And they had left me behind 30 times. That evening, I ran into them beneath the fireworks over the castle. Alice held up her phone with a smile. "Hunter, let me take a picture of you." I forced a smile and raised two fingers towards the camera. She handed the phone to me, then slipped her arm through Troy's. "Take one of us, too. " For a moment, I simply looked at the two of them standing together beneath the fireworks. Then I handed the phone back to Alice and slowly turned away. This was where my summer trip with Alice ended.

A week before our wedding, my fiancee announces that she is pregnant using my younger brother's frozen sperm. "I'm grateful that our love can carry on in another way," she gushes on social media, showing off the test results. My brother replies, "Meeting you was the luckiest thing that ever happened to me." Then Mom chimes in. "Jenny, you've been through so much. Nathan's apartment should be under your name alone." I don't argue and simply reply with a single word—"Congratulations". My phone rings almost seconds later. "Your brother can't have kids anymore. It's just one child, and it's still related to you. Why are you being so petty?" she snaps. I laugh under my breath, hang up, and dial another number. "Want to get married?"

On my wedding day, my fiancee, Alisson Poole, never shows up. Neither do her bridesmaids. I stand alone at the altar all day, enduring a roomful of pitying and contemptuous stares. After 999 rejected calls, I finally accept that she has fled the wedding. Back in our empty home, I see a post from her first love, Rhett Barker. "The art I want to explore with you goes beyond the soul. It includes the body, too." In the photo, Alisson wears the million-dollar custom wedding dress I bought her. She and her six bridesmaids kneel commando at his feet. Their eyes are dazed, burning with raw desire. They look at him like he's their deity, eager to be his most devoted followers. I stare at the picture for a long time, then leave a quick like and a comment. "May your noble art stay locked together forever." I screenshot the post and send it to the six bridesmaids' boyfriends. A masterpiece like this deserves a proper audience.

My wife has a severe sex addiction. But in the seven years we've been married, she never lets me touch her. To suppress her urges, she spends all day submerged in ice-cold water, and her arms are covered in needle marks. Several times, I try to initiate intimacy out of concern for her, but her reaction is terrifying. She even threatens to kill herself. "I told you, I only want a Platonic relationship in this lifetime. Can you stop being so selfish? If you insist on making me do that, I'd rather die!" she exclaims. She maintains this unusual obsession for seven years. Even after ending up in the hospital multiple times from suppressing her desires, she refuses to cross that line. Then, on our wedding anniversary, a man comes in for a pre-check of his phalloplasty enlargement for the ninth time. After the anesthesia takes effect, he begins rambling incoherently. "Honey, I love you so much." Looking at the surgical scars, I shake my head, thinking this guy is really willing to go to extreme lengths for his wife. Then, I hear his final murmur. "Tasha, aren't I so much better compared to your useless husband?" My hand jerks, and I nearly drop the scalpel. It is because my wife's name is Tasha Snyder.

Yvonne Sharp, my fiancee, and I are at the city hall, intending to get our marriage certificates for the 27th time. The staff member has just called our number when Aaron Sutton, Yvonne's stepbrother, suddenly bends over and grabs his stomach. "My stomach is killing me, Yvonne…" Yvonne immediately supports him, saying, "I'll take you to the hospital right now." Aaron quickly shakes his head. "You don't have to do that. It's a very important day for you and Charlie, so I'll just tough it out, Yvonne." He keeps a tight grip on Yvonne's sleeve despite saying so. Yvonne furrows her brow and says, "You don't have to tough it out. I'll take you to the hospital this instant, Aaron." She hands me the queue ticket after saying that. I look at her and say, "It'll only take ten minutes to register our marriage. Is that too much to ask for?" Yvonne doesn't even spare me a glance. "You've already waited for this moment 26 times. What difference will one more make?" I let out a sudden chuckle after hearing how casual she sounds about it. It turns out that she has always known all along—she has just never taken my waiting seriously. "If we don't register our marriage today, there won't be a 28th time, Yvonne." Yvonne helps Aaron along. She doesn't even bother to look at me as she says, "That's enough, Charlie. I'll go take care of Aaron first." I look down at my phone and pull up the contact information of someone I haven't reached out to in a long time. "Grab your personal documents and get to the city hall within ten minutes."

Luke Ward, my wife Sandy Cramer's junior, insists on tagging along on our honeymoon. He claims he just wants to unwind after graduation. I politely turn him down, but he secretly follows us anyway and ends up collapsing from heatstroke on the very first day. Sandy turns deathly pale with panic and rounds on me furiously. "Luke is still breaking out in cold sweats! If I hadn't found him in time, he could've died out there today! We're just going to the desert to stargaze, so why can't he tag along?" "But I've already put together a complete itinerary for him and even arranged his accommodation," I explain helplessly. "He was the one who insisted on following us. He's an adult, for crying out loud. "How can he not know even the most basic survival skills before venturing into the desert? Does he seriously need you by his side every second?" Sandy falls silent. But when I wake up the next morning, I find myself dumped in an uninhabited stretch of desert. Not far away, Luke sits in the passenger seat of an air-conditioned off-road vehicle, while Sandy holds up her phone and livestreams the whole thing. "Clifford, aren't you the expert? You think Luke has only himself to blame for wandering off? Well, let's see how you like being stuck here all by yourself!" I don't even have time to worry about the camera. The scorching heat sears my skin, and I can barely keep my eyes open. Without a word, I discreetly press the button on the pendant hanging around my neck.

After getting married, my financially savvy wife, Sophie Devine, takes charge of our family's finances. She questions me about every penny I ask for and gives me a monthly allowance of 1,500 dollars and nothing more. Sophie holds up the bill. "What do you need the money for again? You're going to exceed your spending limit this month. I don't have any extra to give you." I stare at the itemized list totaling 1,500 dollars. It includes our kid, Terry Parker's medical expenses and the cost of daily household necessities. I even have to cover the bill for the mess Sophie leaves behind after her business dinners. I don't spend any of the money on myself. Before I can say anything, Sophie's phone vibrates on the table. She answers it, her voice softening. "Emily got into a fight again? How much is the settlement this time? I'll transfer it to you right away." Ron Gellar sounds agitated. "They want 10,000 dollars. If not, Emily is going to jail." Sophie hangs up and immediately transfers the required amount to Ron. Emily Gellar is the younger sister of Sophie's assistant, Ron. Sophie is more attentive to Ron than she is to me, her own husband. I tell her calmly, "Mom got into an accident. She needs the money for her medical bills. How much can you give me?" Sophie casually tosses the ledger in front of me. "I told you, there's no extra money for you this month. She'll just have to hold on until next month, even if she's dying." This time, I don't make a scene or pester her. Instead, I just nod and say okay. Then I call my mother-in-law, Gina Reed, who is currently in the emergency room. "Your daughter refuses to pay for your medical bills."

Mom and I board a flight to Fangoria to visit Alicia Carter, my wife. She's a special forces soldier who's here on a peacekeeping mission in this foreign country. But the moment we walk out of the airport, we're ambushed by a group of kidnappers. One of them holds a gun to Mom's head and says, "If you don't give us the ransom in three days, we'll blow her head off!" In a panic, I make a video call to Alicia, my hands shaking as I beg her to help me. "Calm down, honey. I'll put in a request to lead a rescue mission. We'll save her within 24 hours!" But the next day, I keep failing to get in touch with Alicia. After I blow up her phone with multiple calls, one finally connects. Amid her rushed panting, she tells me, "Sorry, honey. I just got assigned to an urgent escort mission. You guys just hang in there. I've arranged for the local authorities to—" Her voice is abruptly cut off by a familiar male voice. "Alicia! Thank goodness you came over just to pick me up. I didn't have to spend 100 dollars on a cab after all! That cab driver didn't even have a license, and I can't believe he tried to ask for more money…" The three-day deadline passes, and the kidnappers keep their word, letting me hear the gunshot myself. As I clutch Mom's cold, dead body, Alicia calls me out of nowhere. "Hey, honey. I just completed the escort mission. How are things on your end? Have the kidnappers released her?" I look down at Mom. Her eyes will never open again. I gently wipe the blood off her face as I reply to Alicia in an eerily calm voice, "Yeah. They have."

Seven years into my marriage, my wife’s assistant Jonah Johnson showed off a multi-million dollar racecar on his social media. The caption was, “I love my job, but I love my boss even more!” As soon as I liked his post, I was blocked from it. My wife immediately called to yell at me. “Jonah just signed a huge contract, so I gave him a little reward. Did you have to scold him on social media over something like that? Don’t push your limits just because I’m kind to you!” I heard Jonah blaming himself and my wife Nia comforting him on the other side of the phone. Before I could say anything else, she hung up on me and blocked my number. The next instant, Jonah posted a screenshot of a million-dollar transfer. I knew that was Nia’s way of consoling and compensating him. This time, however, I did not care anymore.

I decide to propose to Rebecca Milton, now that we've been in a relationship for five years. But I end up overhearing her conversation with her childhood friend, Tobias Wright, outside a private room in the clubhouse. "Seriously, Rebecca? Are you still hooked on the idea of pretending to be a poor student? All this just so you can win a bet of wooing Sebastian Grant, the business genius, and making him yours? "The Grants are on the verge of filing for bankruptcy. Heck, Sebastian has also cut ties with his family just so he can be with you. Don't tell me you seriously plan on marrying him!" Every cell in my body freezes upon hearing Tobias' words. Then, I hear Rebecca responding to him flippantly. "Marry him? As if! All I have to do is wait for him to propose to me, then I can expose the truth of the bet to him on the spot! Oh, the expression he's wearing must be amazing!" Tobias chuckles lightly in return. "You are in a five-year relationship with Sebastian at the end of the day. Are you sure you don't have feelings for him?" Rebecca scoffs back. "I was just playing with him, you know? Whoever puts their heart on the line loses this game." Then, she gazes at Tobias tenderly. "Don't you know very well who I'm truly in love with?" It turns out that the girlfriend I'm head over heels for, as well as the relationship that I view as my prized treasure, is nothing but the product of a bet. I call my parents on the spot. "I will go along with the marriage alliance."

While we're playing King's Game, Olivia Bennett's male best friend, Damien Hayes, has drawn the punishment lot that requires him to spill one of Olivia's secrets. He turns to look at me, a mysterious smile curling on his lips. "Olivia needs to get my permission whenever she wishes to sleep with Ethan." The atmosphere goes quiet immediately. As Damien licks his lips, he adds, "C'mon, there's no such thing as taboo when it comes to Olivia's birthday party! Why are you guys so quiet? I thought y'all are the type who's capable of taking jokes of any kind!"

On the day of our engagement party, my fiancée showed up with her ex-boyfriend in matching outfits. Then she took the microphone and made a very public declaration. "Lance, even if I'm engaged, my heart will always belong to you." Every head in the room turned my way, and it was obvious they were all enjoying the show. I calmly slipped off my suit jacket and gave a small smile. "Well, the stage is already set. Why not make this your engagement party instead?"

I find cigarette ashes on the passenger seat of my wife's car. She brushes me off, saying, "My new assistant left it there. He's not the most sensible." When I ask for a divorce, she stares at me in disbelief. "Just because of that?" "Yeah. Just because of that!"