เรื่องสั้นแนว Plot Twists Romance และนิยาย Male POV ในฉาก Regret

Because of her first love's piano competition, my fiancee, Ashley Blake, postpones our wedding for the 17th time seven years into our relationship. On the eve of the competition, she chops off my ring finger just because Marc Tyson claims I injured his hand and ruined his ability to compete. The pain of losing my finger leaves me crying in agony, but she simply holds him in her arms and stares me down with indifferent eyes. She says, "Stop pretending, Troy Clinton. You're a grown man. What's all this fuss over losing a finger? Besides, you merely lost one finger. Marc has lost the dream he spent his whole life chasing! This is what you owe him." Her cruel words shatter my heart into tiny pieces. She has forgotten that my fingers are also meant to dance across piano keys. "The wedding next week is postponed," she says dismissively while covering Marc's reddened fingers. She adds, "This has nothing to do with Marc. It's simply because you can't wear a wedding ring with a missing finger anyway." Clutching my bleeding hand, I finally wake up to reality. From this moment onwards, we owe each other nothing.

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.

The night before the wedding, the effects of the drug wore off. I woke up in the master bedroom of the estate to the sound of laughter. The moment I opened my eyes, I saw my custom-made suit being cut into strips by Jessica Solomon's male best friend, Chris Johnson. As he twirled a pair of scissors in his hand, he joked with the viewers on his livestream. "Man of the house? Please. He's lying there completely helpless. Anybody could do whatever they want to him." Jessica's friends burst into laughter and chimed in. "Jessica put sleeping pills in his milk herself. Anybody would've been knocked out cold." The livestream chat flooded with comments ridiculing me as the pathetic man marrying into a wealthy family, but Jessica simply watched with amusement and reached over to ruffle Chris' hair. "Feeling better now? Be good and end the livestream. If he wakes up and causes a scene, tomorrow's wedding will be a mess." Only after everyone left did Jessica sit down beside the bed and pull the blanket over me. "Chris is depressed. He can't handle being upset. We'll deal with this later. "I've already arranged for a replacement suit to be flown in overnight on a private jet. Honestly, that one suits you better anyway." My fingers tightened around the bedsheet. Silently, I sent a message to Katie Everton. [I'm not getting married. Does what you said before still stand?]

After Cassian Frick scatters my mother's ashes, Serena Skelding and he become sworn enemies. To stand up for me, Serena drives her car into Cassian and breaks his leg. They remain locked in a bitter feud for five years. It finally comes to an end when Serena marries me, and Cassian leaves the country in disgrace. Three years later, Cassian shows up again at a class reunion. Someone urges him to liven things up. Cassian looks at Serena and smiles. "She and I once had a child. We went at it too roughly and lost it, though. Before I went abroad, she promised me she'd mourn our unborn child for three years." As he says this, he gives me a meaningful look. "Hey, you still haven't slept with her, have you?" I whip my head around and stare at Serena, demanding an explanation. But all she does is nonchalantly pat my hand and say, "After midnight, you can touch me." The normal intimacy between husband and wife somehow becomes a privilege she bestows upon me. She acts as if she's throwing me a bone. At that moment, I suddenly realize how laughably foolish I've been.

Abigail Southall, my wife, has once again lost Ethan and Owen Lincoln, the two young men she keeps by her side. She is trying to coax them to return this time by offering a signed divorce agreement. I have witnessed this routine of running away and chasing countless times. I throw fits, cause scenes, and even try running away from home like those two, but every single time, all she does is hand me a check with a larger amount than before. She then flashes a mocking smile and asks, "Is that enough for you?" I calmly take the divorce agreement and sign my name on the line. Abigail, holding my hand in satisfaction, says, "It's just a divorce for show; I'll withdraw it before the cooling-off period ends. I'm glad you are finally being reasonable. I mean, women of my status all have a desire to conquer, especially when it comes to dealing with a pair of aloof young men. "I'll come back to you so that we can settle down and live a good life once I win them over." I offer no rebuttal and simply pick up the check from the floor, thinking that she has no idea that I'm not going to wait for her anymore.

In the third year I've decided to support my girlfriend, Iris Fulton, by opening a flower shop, she has gone into bankruptcy once again. The first time she went bankrupt, I sold the house my grandma had left for me so that I could clear the debt of 700 thousand dollars. The second time she went bankrupt, I was able to locate the bank passbook Mom had left for me as a wedding gift. That was how I paid back one million and six hundred thousand dollars. The third time Iris has gone bankrupt, however, I can only grip the note with my filthy rich dad's phone number while staring at her lost and dazed expression. At that time, I'm debating whether or not I should call him. But that night, I accidentally notice the chat history on Iris' group chat that's displayed on her tablet. "Hey Iris, how many figures are you going to fill into the sum of the bankruptcy contract that's supposed to be cleared this time?" "Let's put ten million dollars. Otherwise, that flower-selling plaything will be able to clear the debt in one go. It'll make things very boring." "As expected of you, Iris! I heard that the plaything waters flowers in the morning and waters your 'flower garden' at night. You're never tired of him, are you?" I put down Iris' tablet before calling my dad right away. "You want me to take over the family business and marry your student, right? Fine, I'll do it. Get your men to pick me up in three days."

No one knows that Ingrid Steele, the CEO who's currently talking about how her company bans office romances on the podium, has begged me to do it with her eight times in a row last night. Her secretary leans in and murmurs into my ear, "I heard that our cold and aloof CEO has plans to reveal her husband's identity recently. Rumors say that she even plans on throwing him an extremely grand wedding just to make it up to him." Warmth floods my heart at that moment. It's then I decide to make the great news of me winning a billion dollars in the lottery a wedding gift for Ingrid. Our daughter, Gaby Newman, no longer has to hide anymore in life. The three of us can publicly spend time together as a family now! The next day, I put on the suit that Ingrid has given me eight years ago. Then, I enter the wedding venue. As soon as I open the door, I see Ingrid leading her first love, Hank Conley, up the stage. After they exchange rings with each other, they share a sweet kiss in front of everyone in a tight embrace. In the end, Ingrid tosses her wedding bouquet at the guests. Coincidentally, it lands right in my hands. Someone next to me gives me a light shove. "What are you waiting for? Give them your blessings already!" I just clap for the newlyweds while walking toward them. "Congratulations, you two! I hope that you can live happily ever after and that you'll have a bundle of joy soon! No, make it 108 babies, how about that?" As soon as my words fall, I turn on my heel and stride away. As expected, Ingrid doesn't chase after me. She doesn't even bother calling me nor explaining everything to me.

I ignored my friends and family’s objections and insisted on pursuing my now-girlfriend, who was disfigured in a car crash when she tried to save her first love. Some laughed at me for being a back-up plan, but I didn’t care. I worked day and night, earning money for her plastic surgery, and stayed by her side as she walked out of depression. But on the eve of our wedding day, as I was doing her laundry, a marriage certificate dropped out of her pants pocket. The groom was her first love. I was about to make things clear with her when I overheard her conversation with her best friend. “I know Steve saved me, but if Yves doesn’t marry me, he’ll be forced into a marriage alliance. I don’t want to see him lose his freedom. “As for Steve, I’ll find someone to forge a certificate for me. Don’t blurt this out, okay…” I felt my blood then grow cold as I quietly changed the groom of our wedding three days later to her first love. By the time she found out about the surprise, I would have left for abroad, never to return.

Ten seconds before the bomb explodes, I decisively cut the blue wire, saving the lives of hundreds of people inside the building. At the celebration party, Claire Weber, the bomb disposal team captain, gives the credit for the whole operation to the newcomer, Andy Byers. "You're a veteran. Let Andy have the credit for this one so that no one can say I'm playing favorites with you." We've been secretly dating for five years, and she uses the excuse of avoiding suspicion to make me give in to her at every turn. I'm always the one who takes on the most dangerous tasks. Yet every time the praise and glory come around, I'm expected to hand them over to someone else. As I press a hand over my still-bleeding wound, I slip back to the back of the crowd. From a distance, I watch Andy accept the flowers and the medal while the whole city sings his praises on live TV. Halfway through the party, one of our colleagues curiously asks him how he managed to choose the right wire in that life-or-death situation. Andy gazes at Claire with affection, his eyes full of tenderness, and jokes, "What is there to figure out? I just couldn't bring myself to cut the red one because that's Captain Weber's favorite color." The whole room immediately erupts into knowing laughter, and someone even starts chanting for them to kiss. With the mood just right, Claire, who normally keeps her distance from me whenever other people are around, kisses him on the lips in front of everyone. I feel a sharp pang in my chest. Five years of going through life-and-death situations together have made Claire accustomed to the idea that whenever she turns around, I'll still be standing right there. What she's forgotten is that a top bomb tech's cardinal sin is hesitation. And this time, I'll personally defuse the bomb she's become.

Elaine Foster loved to test my love for her. She faked a chronic illness and convinced me to donate blood for her 99 times. When it came for the 100th time, I was already severely anemic. I finally said no. She turned around and used the blood I had given her to make blood sausages for Karl Claflin’s dog. Karl was the most popular guy on campus. Curled up in Karl’s arms, she said to me, “Michael Messner, I was never sick. I only pretended to be, just to see if you really loved me. Unfortunately, you failed the final test. I’m very disappointed. We are done.” I smiled indifferently and walked away without looking back. Five years later, we met again at the top hospital in the country. By then, neither Elaine nor Karl knew that they both had malignant gliomas growing in their brains. I had become the only neurosurgeon in the country capable of successfully removing them. When she saw me in plain clothes, wiping vomit off the hospital floor, she had assumed I was a janitor. She sneered, “Michael, you’d really stoop to anything to run into me, wouldn’t you? You even followed me here. It’s time you faced reality. I’m worth millions now, and you are just a janitor. We are worlds apart. Stop embarrassing yourself.” I did not bother answering. At that moment, I was only thinking about which nurse I would need to speak to for slacking off on the job. Luckily, I had just finished surgery and was going home when I spotted the patient in distress. Otherwise, the patient could have been in serious danger.

Sadie White abandoned me for the 99th time on my birthday to find her old crush, who was threatening suicide. I told the System that this was the last straw. I was done trying to win her heart. I had spent 12 years giving it everything I had, hoping to win her over and bring some light into her world, yet it had all been for nothing. The System told me that if I died here, I could return to my original world. The first time, I tried to slit my wrist. Sadie kicked down the door and rushed me to the hospital, then angrily accused me of trying to manipulate her emotionally and get her attention. The second time, I overdosed on sleeping pills. She broke into my room just in time, wrapped her arms tightly around me, and told me she was sorry. Well, there was always gonna be next time.

As a future son-in-law, I spent $30,000 to host a Thanksgiving dinner for my fiancee’s family. I was just raising my glass, about to propose a toast. But my fiancée Tiffany Spencer’s childhood friend, Howard Hall, beat me to it. He stood up and said to my father-in-law, Dan Spencer. “Mr. Spencer, thank you for letting Tiffany give me a son.” I froze. Feeling touched, Dan said to Howard. “You’re a grateful young man. Since you and Tiffany grew up together, it’s only right that she’d have a child with you.” Everyone present nodded in agreement. No one thought there was anything wrong. Tiffany eventually noticed me standing off to the side. She offered an explanation. “Don’t get the wrong idea. Howard has no intention of ever getting married. He’d be lonely in his old age without a child. I just did him a favor. “You already have me. Whether we have children or not, it makes no difference.” Dan shot me a stern look. “This is a Thanksgiving dinner. If anyone dares to cause trouble today, get out.” Howard smiled. “Don’t be so glum, all of you. Brendon has always been generous. He certainly wouldn’t hold a petty little thing like this against anyone.” He walked over to me and raised his glass. “If Tiffany and I were really together, you wouldn’t have stood a chance to marry her. “From now on, you’ll be this child’s godfather. The three of us will raise this child together.” I did not take the glass from Howard’s hand. Then, I glanced at Tiffany again. She motioned for me not to make a scene. A lump formed in my throat. For a moment, I felt utterly resigned. I sent a message to my professor, who wanted me to be his son-in-law. [Prof. Wilson, does your daughter know about my situation?] Alfred Wilson, who was also my academic advisor, replied instantly. [She does. As long as you’re willing, the marriage is a done deal.] I replied, [Prof. Wilson, I’m willing.]

Mother used my life to threaten the system and force Father to return for a second time. But this time, Father was different. He no longer cared that Mother favored her childhood sweetheart, Adrian Voss. He did not even react when Undersecretary Adrian pretended to be frail and provoked him in front of her. When Mother begged for forgiveness, Father only calmly rolled up his sleeve and pressed a dagger to the scarred skin of his wrist. "Tell me. How much blood do you need this time?" Mother's face tightened with pain. Her eyes went red. "Gideon, must you embarrass me like this? Can't our family be harmonious like before?" Father's gaze moved from Mother to Adrian, but he said nothing. His silence told her exactly who had caused his disappointment and pain again and again. Sure enough, Mother stiffened, then spoke in anger to hide her shame. "Adrian has only been in court for two years. Just because you failed the civil-service exams, are you so jealous that you'd watch him die?" "Gideon, he was my uncle's finest student. I can't stand by and let him die." "Don't worry. Once Adrian recovers, I won't make you bleed into his medicine again. After all, the person I love most is you." As soon as she said it, I crawled out from the corner and threw myself in front of Father. I wanted to beg him not to believe her. I wanted him to leave quickly, before Mother and Adrian could hurt him again. But Father tightened his hand around mine and smiled gently. "Don't be afraid, Eli. This time, I came back to take you home with me."

I woke up in the middle of the night to find my wife crying and begging me to let her see that young man one last time. "I’ll come right back after seeing him one last time. Please, I’m begging you." In our seven years of marriage, this was only the second time she’d spoken to me in such a pleading, ingratiating tone. The last time was when I caught the kid running out of her office, his clothes in disarray. Afraid I’d make a scene, she grabbed my hand and pleaded, "Honey, I promise I’ll cut him off. Please don’t divorce me. I’ll die without you." So, I gave her another chance. Just as she promised, she devoted herself to our family, becoming the perfect wife everyone admired. Until today. I turned on the bedside lamp, looked into her eyes, and told her seriously, "Go. Don’t leave yourself with any regrets." I had no regrets left. I hoped the same for you.

After the Sullivan Group went bankrupt, I abandoned everything and followed Jessica to Tylen City. It took her five years, but she eventually inherited her father's legacy and climbed back into the top three on the Forbes rankings. Yet, she never once brought up any word about marriage. That lasted until the night before the Day of the Dead. I woke up in the middle of the night and saw her lighting candles while facing the direction of Cinea. "Dad, Mom, forgive me. I couldn't visit you this year because of work, but please continue to protect Chris and bless us with happiness for the rest of our lives." When I heard this, warmth filled my heart. My health was on the frail end of the scale. In the past, she always returned on her own since she didn't want me to be exhausted over this. This year, I decided to make the trip on her behalf after seeing the longing hidden in her eyes. However, what I never expected was to see the name of her former fiancé beside her name on the gravestone. Moreover, his title was engraved as her husband. As I looked further down, I saw another name beneath theirs. It was a name that belonged to their three-year-old son. At that moment, I felt as if I'd been struck by lightning. Only then did I realize that it wasn't Christopher she was referring to when she said, "Chris." Instead, it was Christian.

It had been three years since my ex-girlfriend and I broke up, and each of us was keeping a secret from the other. She never told me that she had ended things to atone for something she'd done to someone else. And I never told her that when I agreed to the breakup and said I didn't love her anymore, I had my own reasons. Then we ran into each other again at our university alumni reunion. She was a respected professor and scholar now. She stood in the crowd with her arm around her fiancé, smiling as people congratulated them on their upcoming wedding. When she saw me, her smile deepened. "Dominic, aren't you going to congratulate me?" The word "congratulations" lodged in my tongue like a pair of thorns, and for a long time I couldn't get it out. The person standing beside her should have been me. In the end, I gave her what she wanted and said the words. Because I only had three days left to live.

After writing 999 love letters to the cold and aloof campus belle, Maddie Harrison, I finally successfully snag her heart. But on the day before our wedding, I accidentally stumble upon Maddie's conversation with her childhood friend, where she jokes about the mistakes she's seen in the love letters. "An elementary school student must have written these letters, from the looks of it! He might as well use AI, to begin with!" So, I terminate our wedding and withdraw all the funding my family has given to her company. Maddie can only shriek hysterically in return. "It's just a joke between friends! Must you go so far as to cancel our wedding?" I show her a virtual fortune-telling prediction of our marriage that's drafted by an AI. "You like using AI that much, don't you? Then look at this prediction properly! Our marriage is a huge misfortune! There's no way I'm going to marry a walking jinx like you!"

On the day Serena's company went public, she announced her engagement to her assistant, Hugo Snow. Meanwhile, I, her husband who had quietly stayed by her side for four years, watched as Hugo walked up to the press conference stage. "None of this would have been possible without Hugo's support," Serena stated. "I thank you all for trusting Serena. From now on, the two of us will be completing this project together, hand in hand," Hugo added. As I listened to the crowd shower them with congratulations, my clenched fist slowly loosened. It was finally time for me to let go of this four-year marriage.

Seraphine Hale, a genius musician, announces her return to the country. When a reporter asks whether she's back for her first love, she smiles icily. "Are you talking about that trash? It wouldn't be any of my business even if he were to drop dead tomorrow." What she doesn't know is that I've already been dead for close to a decade.

After the final statewide examinations ended, I casually made a post on my social feed. "Does no longer depending on you count as growing up?" My childhood friend's reply appeared almost immediately. "That calls for a national celebration." I didn't understand, so I instinctively sent her a question mark. After a long wait, her answer finally arrived. "Dylan Eastwood, do you know everyone calls you the burr I can never shake off?" "Final exams are over. You don't need to cling to me every day anymore." "Learn to stand on your own. At college, no one is going to tolerate an overgrown baby." Then, without another word, she sent me an installation file. "Ask the AI when you need something. It'll be more useful than depending on me." Just like that, the childhood friend who had looked after me for twelve years handed me over to an AI program. I sat frozen for a long time before calmly downloading the file.