Cerita Pendek Plot Twists Romance & Novel Marriage

On New Year's Eve in the seventh year of our marriage, we're about to celebrate the holidays with a grand meal when my daughter, Piper Gallagher, drags my wife, Renee Fielding, out of the house. "Hurry up, Mom! Mr. Thomas is already urging us! He doesn't like waiting, you know!" At first, I'm stunned. Thinking that Piper is just joking around, I ask with a smile, "Who's this Mr. Thomas that you're talking about?" But Piper's soft and sweet voice plunges into my heart like a blade after I hear what she says next. "Well, Mr. Thomas is Mom's boyfriend! I can call him Tommy, too!" Renee's explanation is lodged in her throat. So, she decides to come clean about her affair instead. "The truth is, it's rather boring, spending the holidays with you every year. Besides, I've lost all love for you now that seven years are up. If you think this marriage still works, then I'll stick around. If not, we can get a divorce." The sudden bombshell leaves my mind completely blank. I can only look at Piper subconsciously. She doesn't show any affection to me, like she did in the past. Instead, she just hides behind Renee while mincing her words quietly. "I wanna be with Mom and Mr. Thomas." That night, Renee and Piper welcome the brand new year amid the fireworks and laughter. I, on the other hand, can only stare at the feast on the table on my lonesome, which has gone stone cold. Their words keep buzzing in my ears, tormenting me ruthlessly to the point that I can't sleep a wink at all. The next day, Renee and Piper go home reluctantly at noon. "Have you thought things through? If you plan on sticking around, then don't ask any questions. I don't want you kicking up a ruckus from now on, either. In the future, I'll introduce you to Thomas." It's then that I finally make up my mind. "Let's get a divorce, then."

After seven years of marriage, Cecilia Summer inherited a fortune worth billions. But while handling the paperwork with her lawyer, she was told that her marriage certificate wasn’t real. She could only inherit the entire fortune in her own name. After digging further into the details, the lawyer mentioned a name she never expected to hear. “Mr. Leedon’s wife is listed as Lucy Garnett, not you. Miss Summer, you’re… unmarried.” Everyone in Summerville knew that she and Marcus Leedon had been engaged since childhood. She was his everything, his treasured possession. When they got married, Marcus gave her the wedding of the century. He made a public promise: “I, Marcus Leedon, will never betray Cecilia!” But the marriage certificate bearing Marcus Leedon’s and Lucy Garnett’s names was issued the day after the wedding.

Ayla, my wife had just returned home from a business trip when I received a call from the hotel she had booked there. The hotel receptionist sounded a little embarrassed as she explained, “Hello, is this Ms. Jewell’s husband? I’m calling from the front desk. I see that we forgot to bill you for some incidentals. It looks like your room used all eighteen condoms from the amenity kit. I apologize for the oversight. The total comes to 35 dollars. Can I get a card number over the phone to close that out for you?” My mind went completely blank. Hadn’t my wife gone on that business trip on her own? Why would she have used condoms? Suppressing my inner turmoil, I gave Ayla a call. “Honey, the hotel just called. They said there was a little issue with your room. They asked me if you had someone staying over with you?” She sounded clearly exhausted as she replied with a weak voice, “Oh, right. A lady couldn’t find a hotel room, so she crashed with me for the night.” I chuckled and asked her to rest. After hanging up, I drove directly to the hotel. “35 dollars, right? I’ll pay it in person.”

Everyone knew that the crown prince, Mathias Cavendish, was a handsome man with a calm and composed demeanor. He was a dream suitor for every woman of marriageable age in the city. However, no one knew how wild he was with Seraphina Montclair when his body pressed against hers every night and he thrust hard into her in all sorts of positions in bed. On the 1,001st night he met her through the secret passage, Seraphina lay weakly in the messy sheets, feeling sore all over. Mathias looked down at her after being fully satisfied, and she finally worked up the courage to say, "Your Highness will be marrying my older sister at the end of the month…" Her fingers clenched the corner of the covers as she said almost inaudibly, "Would you be willing to give me a place by your side on the same day?" Mathias was wearing his clothes when he suddenly paused. "No." He turned to look at her, his cold yet handsome face lit up under the flickering candlelight. "I promised Cordelia that she would be the only woman by my side. Your presence shall never be known to her." Seraphina turned pale instantly. "What would that make me?"

My older sister was suffering from severe hemorrhaging during a traumatic childbirth, and her life was in danger. On her deathbed, she called for me. Looking at her pale face, I wept and swore that I would take good care of her child. However, she shook her head weakly. “I don’t need you to take care of him. Chloe, the baby belongs to your husband.” In an instant, my world fell silent. My husband, Ethan, stepped forward and took my sister’s hand. With bloodshot eyes, he dropped to his knees right in front of me. “We never wanted to hurt you, so we kept it a secret,” he sobbed. “Now that she’s dying, we only ask for your blessing.” Numb with shock, I stiffly picked up a pen and signed the divorce papers. Three days later, I buried my sister, and on her tombstone, the inion read: Wife of Ethan. My parents were furious. They disowned her, cutting her out of the family entirely. They refused to acknowledge the newborn child, choosing instead to stay by my side, devoted to helping me heal. However, over the next five years, my mental health only deteriorated further. On the day I finally decided to end my own life, I brought my sister's favorite lilies and visited her grave. That was when I caught sight of her linking arms with Ethan and holding a young boy with her other arm. My parents stood right beside them, looking sorry for her. “If we hadn’t been worried she might hurt you, we wouldn’t have forced you to fake your death for five years,” my mother said, comforting her. “She’s in a really bad state right now. When we go home, we’ll convince her that her memory is faulty and that you two were married all along. That way, you can finally live together openly.” The bouquet of lilies slipped from my fingers, falling into the dirt and scattering dust across the white petals. I pulled out my phone and changed Ethan’s contact name from “Ex-Husband” to “Ethan.” There was no need to lie anymore. I was letting you go for real.

Terrance Burgess slapped me in front of the entire company, all because I accidentally knocked over his assistant's vase. My five-year-old son, Claude Burgess, stood off to the side, clapping like it was something worth cheering for. Afterward, the assistant walked up to me while holding the bouquet the father and son had given her, showing it off right in my face. "So what if you're the wife? The one who isn't loved is the real outsider." I looked at her calmly. "Then you'd better watch yourself. If he can have you on the side, he can just as easily find someone else after you." I used to think I had a happy, complete family. Until Terrance's assistant came along and made me realize it had all been in my head. The love from that father and son had already moved on to someone else. That was the moment something in me went completely still. I called a number I hadn't contacted in years. "Dad, I want to come home and take over the family business."

At our dinner gathering, my best friend, Maya Miller, leaned in with a drunken smirk. "If you find out I'm sharing someone's husband, would you still be my friend?" Before I could answer, Maya kept going. "I didn't miss our lunch yesterday because I was sick," she whispered. "He installed a floor-length mirror, just to try something new with me." She took a sip of her wine. "And that retreat last month? Fake too. His wife just had a baby, so he took me to Aspen instead." I froze in total shock. Maya Miller suddenly burst out laughing. "Oh, come on! I’m totally joking. Look at your face!" I let out a breath and laughed it off. That evening, I drove to the office to drop off files for my husband, Ethan Cross. I walked in and froze. The floor-to-ceiling window in his private office was gone. Replaced by a massive floor-length mirror. Cold sweat broke out on my neck. I turned to Ethan. "Why the mirror?" Ethan pulled me into a soft hug from behind. "The window had a small crack, sweetheart. I got the mirror so you can touch up your makeup whenever you visit." I smiled and nodded, staying silent. As soon as Ethan walked out to grab his keys, I stepped up to the glass. Near the bottom corner were two faint, rounded smudges. I measured the shape with my hands. A D-cup. Exactly Maya Miller's size. I pulled out my phone, snapped a clear picture, and dialed a contact. "Get a construction crew here tonight. I want to replace a mirror with a two-way glass." I took a deep breath. "Then call the press. Tell them Ethan Cross is holding an emergency conference downstairs on Thursday.”

Five years ago, Gary Cooper proposed to me 99 times just to marry me. Five years later, to cheer up the secretary he adored, he handed me 99 divorce papers. "Relax. I'm not actually divorcing you. I'm just humoring her. Just pretend like you always do. There's no need to sign." When Gary said it, he was even smiling. As for me, the heartbreak I once felt had long since faded. Now, there was barely a ripple left. I suddenly remembered what day it was and asked quietly, "Will you be home for dinner tonight?" He paused for a moment, then casually shook his head. "Probably not. Today's kind of special. I don't want her to get jealous." I nodded and watched him walk out the door. Then, I picked up a pen and carefully signed my name on the 99th divorce agreement.

On the night before our wedding, my fiancee, Elara Wynn, gave her first time to her first love, Drew Mercer. I left my engagement ring behind and walked away. Before I went, I posted a message on their social feed: "Hope you two get back together soon. I’m clearing the way for you." The very next second, my fiancee called. "Cassian Rowe, I just didn’t want to leave regrets in my life. Can you stop being so old-fashioned?" I answered, annoyed, that she was no longer my fiancee and had nothing to do with me. That was when she panicked.

I was a soldier's wife. Less than two years into our marriage, I asked Lucian Summers for a divorce because I found a little handmade bracelet at home. It was not mine, and Lucian had never bought me cute little trinkets like this before. Lucian scoffed and said, "All because of that little thing?" I could not be bothered to explain this time, so I replied coldly, "Yeah. It's exactly because of that little thing."

On the day of our wedding, my husband's assistant deliberately found an excuse to make me step outside. She put on a wedding dress and walked onto the stage before I did. She officially played the part of the bride. When my husband found out, not only did he not stop her, but he even held her hand with their fingers intertwined. He gazed at her lovingly and completed the wedding ceremony with a look of pure happiness. When I finally realized what was happening and was about to confront him, my husband immediately lashed out at me, "You were the one who showed up late and delayed the wedding ceremony. Do you expect all those guests to just sit there and wait for you? Can you be any more selfish? "Mia was only trying to help us with the wedding. Don't act like you're the victim after benefiting from it. I'll just make it up to you and hold another wedding for you later!" My friends were all stunned. They thought I would throw a fit after hearing such ridiculous words from my husband. Instead, I nodded and said he was right. Seeing how calm I was, my husband became even more pleased with himself. He said that since we had already received our marriage certificate, he would hold a proper wedding for me once he had time. He seemed to have forgotten one thing. We had just signed our divorce agreement yesterday.

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.

"Your marriage is a $50 souvenir, Ms. Vance. And your husband's already married to someone else." In a single moment at the immigration office, my life as the wife of NHL superstar Liam Sterling evaporated. Our secret Vegas wedding was a fraud, and Liam was already legally married to his "manager," Sophia. But the cruelty didn't end there. Liam expected me to adopt a "war hero's orphan", a child that was actually his and Sophia's secret son. He didn't want a wife. He wanted a world-class doctor to fix his career and a free nanny to raise his real wife's child. Liam made one fatal mistake: he forgot that I'm the only one who can keep him on the ice. I signed a record-breaking contract with the Titans, his bitterest rivals. Now, while Liam's knee shatters during the playoffs, I'm on the enemy's bench, healing the only man who can destroy him. He want a nanny? I'm sure he'll get his worst nightmare.

My girlfriend, Celia Winters, had her first love save her life before, so she promised to do three things for him. The first time, he called her away to ride the Ferris wheel with him when I was supposed to propose to my girlfriend. The second time, he asked her to accompany him to see the northern lights while I was ill and hospitalized. I had a crush on my girlfriend for eight years, so I endured all of this. It was not until our wedding that my girlfriend publicly admitted that she had not married the one she loved the most. She comforted me, "Zane, I'll have nothing to do with Shane anymore after this. Could you please forgive me again?" However, I did not want to endure it any longer. Since she had not married the right person, I would let her marry him!

On the third day after our divorce was finalized, my ex-wife, Georgie Anderson, sent me a text message. [Why haven’t you transferred your salary from this month to me?] I thought she was joking. [We’re already divorced.] [So? What does it matter if we’re divorced? You should transfer nineteen thousand dollars from your twenty-thousand-dollar income, just like you did before. The remaining one thousand dollars will be your pocket money. When you were unemployed, I was the one who took care of you. Now that we’re divorced, you’re turning your back on me?] I stared at her text messages and fell silent for a really long time. Throughout our three-year marriage, I gave her nineteen thousand dollars out of my twenty-thousand-dollar salary. She was responsible for "budgeting" our household expenses. However, she spent my money on her civil service exam, afternoon teas with her besties, and even on her study partner, whom I’d never met. As for me, I handled all the house chores—cooking dinner, mopping the floors and doing the laundry. But when I took a little time after work to game, she would yell at me for being lazy. She was demanding money from me even after we were divorced. Her reason was that I might spend the money without thinking. I blocked her number. Three seconds later, she sent me a text message from another phone number. [You’ll regret this. I’m trying to help you one last time.] I laughed. ‘Helping me?’ I thought. Nobody had ever helped me in the past three years.

When my mother asked me who I wanted to marry, this time, I chose none of them. Instead, I decided to go to the Northwest and serve my country. In my previous life, both my childhood friend, once a captain, and my educated fiancé courted me. I had feelings for both. But while I was still struggling to decide who I wanted as my husband, both accidentally ingested something. In a dazed state, I spent a chaotic night. After that, my parents asked one of the men to marry me. On the wedding day, the first love in both their hearts, the woman they had always truly loved, found out the truth. Out of spite, she accepted a local thug’s proposal. After marrying him, she was forced to give birth to ten children, one after another, until she died tragically. After her death, both men grabbed me by the throat and asked, “Why did she have to die such a miserable death, while you’re still alive and well?” They strangled me to death. When I opened my eyes again, I was back to the day when my childhood friend and my fiancé had been drugged.

My best friend hands me the divorce papers she drafted. "You spent five years chasing Joe before you finally got him. Why do you suddenly want a divorce?" I force a smile. "Because he won't have dinner with me." Five hours earlier, I sent Joe Watson the address of a restaurant. "I made a reservation for our third anniversary." He replied almost immediately. "Busy right now." I spent five years chasing him and three years as his wife, only to get those words in return. Then I saw him outside his office, protectively guiding a short-haired woman into his car. When I first started pursuing Joe, I could barely get a response from him. But little by little, he opened up and began sharing all his joys and frustrations with me. Now, all I ever hear from him is, "Busy right now." I thought I wasn't trying as hard as I used to. But that wasn't it. He had simply fallen for someone else. My phone rings. It's the restaurant calling. "Ms. Gray, how many people will be dining tonight?" I slip the divorce papers into my bag. "Just one." I know Joe brought that woman to the same restaurant, which works out perfectly. From now on, he can share its signature dish with whoever he wants. It's none of my business anymore. I'll enjoy it by myself.

In the fifth year of my marriage with Caspian Hayes, I finally receive the wonderful news of being able to leave this world once and for all. In my last three days of existence, I decide to play the roles of the perfect wife and the silent mother Caspian and our son, Noah Hayes, want me to play. On the first day, Caspian complains that I'm not prim and proper enough, so he intends to attend the banquet with the fake heiress, Erin Winslow, as his date. I merely iron his suit without a word of complaint. On the second day, Noah doesn't like how nagging I am, so he throws a tantrum and demands to see Erin. With a smile on my face, I deliver him to Erin's doorstep. On the third day, my friend calls me on the phone. She asks me in a disappointed tone, "Aren't you worried that you might lose favor with them for real at this point?" I just smile wanly. "It's fine. I'll be going home soon anyway." That's when Caspian wheels around to look at me. For once, there's panic in his eyes. "Aren't you an orphan, Astrid? You don't have another home other than the one you have with me!"

My wife stands solemnly at the very front of the crowd at her mother's funeral. I rush there from out of town, only to find two places left. One is beside my secretly married wife of seven years, Grace Rivera, and the other is at the very back. I naturally assume that the seat next to her is mine. But just as I take a step forward, Grace walks right past me and nods to my best friend standing behind me. She says, "Jason, come here." The relatives around us exchange knowing looks. Someone whispers, "Is that Grace's boyfriend? They look so good together." The crowd begins to stir. "I've never seen him before. Apparently, he was her college classmate. With Grace's personality, if she's willing to have someone stand beside her, it means she's chosen him." "No wonder. She even saved that spot for him." I stand there frozen, my fingers tightening around the black umbrella in my hand. Then I walk to the back of the crowd and take my place. With so many people blocking my view, all I can see is Grace's back. Throughout the entire funeral, she never once looks back at me, presumably to avoid giving anyone the wrong idea. Suddenly, it all feels so pointless. What exactly have I been holding on to throughout our seven years of marriage?

"When is that desperate agent of Ace Davidson's finally going to get lost? Just looking at her makes me sick!" "Seriously! She's always clinging to our Ace. Does she really think she's his wife or something?" My finger stopped scrolling across the tablet. Without changing expression, I closed the fan post full of insults on Ace's fan page. As Ace's secret wife of five years and his agent, I'd grown numb to comments like these a long time ago. I turned around, took a box of arnica cream and a steaming hot lunch from my bag, and handed them to the chubby crew member sitting in the corner. "Pudge, eat first. Put some arnica on your face, too. You don't want it to leave a mark." Because of his heavy build and slow movements, the director had slapped Pudge in front of everyone that day. The entire crew had made a joke out of him. I was the only one who'd offered him any comfort. He took the items, his eyes reddening as he looked at me. "Alisson, thank you... You're a good person. There's something I can't keep from you." With that, he glanced around before pulling out a spare phone with a shattered screen. "Alisson, I accidentally caught this on video yesterday while I was organizing props in the underground parking garage." I tapped the video open. On the screen was Ace's private van, the one I'd paid for myself. The vehicle was rocking violently.