Mistress Romance 단편 소설 & Awakening 소설

Intimate photos of Sienna Taylor topped the city's trending searches again. Out of habit, I take screenshots of them and send her a link to a luxury apartment overlooking the river that I've been eyeing. "Buy two of these. One for me, and one for our kid." She replies almost immediately with a simple "Okay" and a screenshot of a massive bank transfer. She never hesitates to throw money at a problem. After ten years of marriage, I've finally stopped keeping tabs on my wife's affairs. These days, I only keep tabs on my bank balance. But this time, Sienna is serious about a young man named Gavin Reed. When I find out they've been caught kissing by the harbour, I ask for a million dollars. When she holds a press conference and calls him her best friend, I ask for another million. And when I hear that they're celebrating their move into a new home together, I ask for yet another million. Her affair with Gavin has become the talk of the city, and she's so caught up in it that she's forgotten all about the man she once had to woo with 100 love letters before he'd agree to marry her. I don't cry or make a scene. Every time she hurts me for his sake, I just burn one of those letters. When the 100th and final letter turns to ash, I'll leave her for good.

My mom's dying of cancer, and her final wish is to see me settle down and start a family. I beg my girlfriend, Yvonne Hurst, and my childhood friend, Colin Lowell, to help me put on this act for Mom. After asking them 88 times, they finally agree to play along and help me fulfill her last wish. On the day of the wedding, Mom clings to the last of her strength, waiting until the very end for the bride and best man to arrive. But they never do. Instead, Colin posts a photo online. Yvonne's in her wedding dress, and Colin is dressed as the best man. The two of them stand beside a cake, beaming at the camera. "My best friend's getting married, and the bride went all the way across town to pick up a cake with me," his caption reads. A guy couldn't ask for a better girlfriend. He's one lucky man." The location tag leads to a popular bakery known for its cakes. I call Yvonne and demand to know what is going on. "Isn't this all supposed to be about fulfilling your mom's dying wish?" she asked, sounding casual, almost dismissive. "I thought I'd spend some time with Colin and help him relax. It'll make our performance more convincing later." Colin leans over and laughs. "Yeah, Nathan. We're just messing with you. We'll be back soon," he assures me. "Tell Ms. Brooks to wait a little longer." Only then do I understand that my desperate pleas and Mom's dying wish mean nothing to them. To them, it is all just a harmless joke. I stare at the heart monitor as its beeping flattens into one long, unbroken tone, tears blurring my vision. When this absurd little act finally comes to an end, I'm the only one left to bear the consequences. From this moment on, I'm going to let them go. And finally, I'll let myself move on.

Ruth Jensen is determined to cure Zeke Carlton of his jealous streak. Every time he gets jealous, she buys her assistant, Calvin Ward, a present—everything from jewelry to expensive cars to villas. Zeke goes from throwing hysterical fits to going completely numb. One day, Ruth buys Calvin gifts for the 99th time. She looks at Zeke, who's shaking all over, his face drained of color. She says disdainfully, "Zeke, I can't stand men who are jealous and possessive. If you never learn to be generous and graceful, then I'll just keep treating Calvin well." But this time, Zeke doesn't question her like he usually does, nor does he ask her for money. He's actually gone to the office to pick something up today. To his surprise, he walks right into Ruth throwing a birthday celebration for Calvin there. The place is crammed full of gifts she's gotten Calvin, piled so high there's barely room to walk. At the door, a few workers are hauling in boxes while gossiping. "Careful. These are all this season's new releases Ms. Jensen bought for Mr. Ward. If we break anything, we'll never be able to pay it back!" "How many times has it been this month? Every time Ms. Jensen does this, she buys him stuff worth millions of dollars…" Zeke feels like someone has sliced his heart open. Every time he asks Ruth for money to keep paying his grandmother's medical bills, she always complains. Yet she doesn't even bat an eye when she buys Calvin these insanely expensive luxury goods. Zeke turns to leave, but Ruth frowns and calls out to him. "Are you actually stalking me all the way to the office now? It's Cal's birthday today. Did you deliberately come here dressed like that just to be an eyesore?"

Throughout our four years of college, Charlotte Montgomery booked train tickets for me and my buddy, Forrest Croft, whenever we headed back to school or went home for break. She always claimed that getting tickets was a race against the clock, and somehow, the three of us never managed to sit together. Every time the tickets were issued, Forrest would tear into her in our group chat. "Charlotte, can you be any more useless? You managed to book three tickets in three different train cars. Next time, you'd better stand right next to him, even if you have to stand the whole way. Otherwise, you'll answer to me." Charlotte always fired back immediately. "Who the hell do you think you are? I could crouch at his feet, and it still wouldn't be any of your business." I believed them. Even when I spent six hours sitting alone in an uncomfortable seat, or came down with a fever in the middle of the night and called Charlotte more than a dozen times without getting an answer, I assumed she'd fallen asleep in another train car. It wasn't until our graduation trip, when someone asked to switch seats with me. I dragged my suitcase over, only to find Forrest with my jacket draped over his shoulders, his head resting on Charlotte's shoulder as they shared a pair of earbuds. When Charlotte saw me, she simply pulled out one earbud and sat up straight. "Let's get one thing straight. We've always been careful not to give people the wrong idea. I only kept it from you because I was afraid you'd feel uneasy if you knew we'd be sitting next to each other for six hours." Forrest patted the seat beside him. "I'm your buddy. Isn't it better to have me keep an eye on your girlfriend, rather than some random guy sitting next to her?" Just then, a smiling train attendant came over and handed them a matching set of luggage tags. "According to our system, you two have sat next to each other on all 16 round trips throughout your four years at college. We'd like to give you this souvenir to commemorate that." Only after she'd finished speaking did she notice me. She glanced down at the booking details again. "This is your friend who booked tickets with you, too, right? How come he's the one sitting alone every time, even though all three of you book your tickets together?" The entire train car fell silent. I looked at Charlotte's pale face, realizing something. They had never once been separated from each other. For four years, I'd been left out every single time.

After an accident and miscarriage, Hansel Saddler and I are so devastated that we're both diagnosed with depression. For the next five years, I try my best to act like I'm normal as I care for him and try to cheer him up. This lasts until I overhear him speaking to the psychologist at the clinic's door. "Work's been getting busy lately, and pretending to be depressed makes it inconvenient to deal with that. Can you change my diagnosis to manic disorder?" The psychologist giggles. "You have been quite manic lately, darling. You've been making me feel really sore down there." "I can make you feel even more sore now." Then, I hear moans and groans. It turns out everything I've done over the past five years is nothing but a joke. I pull up my conversation with Colin Foster. "I agree to undergo secluded treatment deep in the mountains abroad."

During a parent-child activity at kindergarten, the teacher asks the children to draw what they want to be when they grow up. The other kids draw princesses, dinosaurs, and astronauts, but my five-year-old son, Evan Jepsen, draws a cell phone. Across its screen, he's written a message in crooked letters. "Incoming call from Annette." "Why do you want to be a phone?" the teacher asks, puzzled. "Because Daddy loves his phone more than anything," Evan replies earnestly. "When Mommy asks him to come to dinner, he gets annoyed. But whenever Annette calls, he smiles right away." The classroom falls silent, and I stand frozen in place. "Once, Mommy had a fever of 102°F, but Daddy said he was busy and couldn't take her to the hospital," Evan continues. "But when Annette said her stomach hurt, he canceled a really important meeting and carried her to the car himself. "One day it was raining, and Daddy promised to pick me up. But then Annette called, and he made Mommy and me get out of the car. "Daddy said Annette's brother saved his life a long time ago, so he promised to take care of her forever." Evan looks up at me, his voice growing softer. "If Daddy wants to repay Annette's brother, why are we always the ones he leaves behind? "If I become Daddy's phone… would he hold me all the time too? Would he listen to me when I talk, just like he always listens to Annette on the phone?" I pull him into my arms and wipe away my tears. "Sweetheart, you don't have to become a phone," I choke out. "I'll take you away from your daddy, who never seems to notice us anyway."

My husband, William Aldous, believed in fair trade. Every favor came with a catch. No matter what I asked him for, his first move was always the same. He would counter with a question. He would ask, “What’s in it for me?” One stormy night, my car broke down halfway home, and I was stranded on the side of the road. I kept my voice down and begged him to come get me. He laid out his terms without missing a beat. “Fine, I’ll come get you. But you’re pulling your name from the department’s outstanding employee award. Let Jolie have it.” Another time, a colleague framed me, and I took the blame. I asked William to pull the surveillance footage and clear my name. He stayed indifferent. “Clearing your name is easy. But you have to hand the project’s core over to Jolie.” In just one year, all those trades completely erased me from the company we founded together. Then came the last time. My mother was badly hurt and hospitalized. She needed surgery, and the only surgeon who could do it was his uncle, Harold Meyer. Before he could name his price, I touched my stomach and spoke first. “In exchange, I’ll sign the divorce papers. You can have Jolie.”

Olivia Hall was 18 when her parents died in a bloody gang war. Henry West, the city's most powerful crime boss, took her captive and forced her into a relationship. He kept her at his side, never letting her leave. Olivia fought him every step of the way, willing to risk her life rather than give in. But no matter how much she hated him or how hard she pushed him away, Henry lavished her with affection and made sure no one could hurt her. Over time, his relentless devotion wore down her defenses. Against her better judgment, Olivia fell in love with him. Everyone said she was Henry's greatest strength and the one weakness that could destroy him. The day Olivia agreed to marry him, Henry wiped out half the city's criminal world to make sure no one left could threaten her. Then he announced he was retiring. "Olivia, you're the only woman I'll ever love. There'll never be anyone else. I promise." Years later, Olivia discovered that Henry was secretly looking after another woman, someone he treated like she was too precious for the world to touch. "Olivia, I still love you more than anyone, but Grace is sweet and innocent. She reminds me of you when we first met, and I can't just walk away from her. Once this is over, I'll make it up to you. I swear." Olivia wasn't going to give him another chance. He had ruined what they had, and she had no interest in holding on to what was left. She burned every keepsake from their relationship and boarded a flight overseas, determined to leave Henry behind for good.

My girlfriend, Esther Cahill, and my best friend, Lionel Fox, are both ESTPs. They send each other thousands of messages every day, but the second I say something, they both go completely silent. "Gabriel, it's not that we don't want to reply. You just wouldn't get what we're talking about." I have always assumed that I'm just too quiet and that I don't really fit in with them. One day, I get hit by a car outside the school and end up bleeding badly. The driver speeds away, and I call Esther ten times, but she doesn't answer. I enter the three-person group chat, only to find that she's having the time of her life chatting with Lionel. The messages keep coming in so fast that I can barely keep up.

On the very first day of our marriage, Jasper Clarke, a renowned gynecologist, laid down his terms. "My time can mean life or death for my patients. You can't afford to waste it. I may not be able to be there for you day to day, but I'll set aside half a day every month just for you. That's the most I can offer." I understood how demanding his job was, so I nodded and agreed. From then on, I ate alone, went to doctor's appointments alone, and spent my days in an empty house. I never once disturbed Jasper. That changed in my third month of pregnancy, when I began showing signs of a threatened miscarriage. For the first time, I booked a specialist appointment with Jasper. The moment I pushed open the door to his office, his smile froze. "What are you doing here? Get out! Don't take up a spot another patient needs!" Before I could say a word, he called in the next patient. A young pregnant woman walked in behind me, carrying a bouquet of white jasmine. She sat down beside Jasper. As the door closed, I saw him stand up, his left hand resting at her waist and his right hand covering hers as he took the bouquet. I waited outside for four hours, but Jasper never called in another patient. A nurse came over to inform me. "Ms. Wells is Dr. Clarke's VIP patient. He saves every Wednesday for her. If you're not feeling well, I can help you make an appointment with another doctor." My phone lit up with a calendar reminder. The half-day I had been looking forward to all month would be over in five minutes. My hand stilled against my lower abdomen. Suddenly, I could not feel the pain anymore. After a long moment of silence, I spoke softly. "I'd like to schedule an abortion."

On the day of our fifth anniversary, I got into a fight with my boyfriend, Tyrus Aberg. My best friend, Claire Dawson, sent me a screenshot. [Proxy Girlfriend: Thirty Days] Below it was Tyrus' reply. [Approved.] Every time we fought, Tyrus would deliberately have Claire act as his proxy girlfriend. He said I only dared to pick fights with him because I felt too secure in the relationship. He figured that as long as Claire got close to him and made me feel threatened, I would get jealous and tearfully beg him to reconcile. Three years ago, after one argument, he and Claire changed to matching couple profile pictures. "You've got one day to think it over. She'll be my proxy girlfriend for now. I'll only reconcile with you when you apologize." One day turned into three days. What started as switching profile pictures escalated into dates, hand-holding, and hugging. The last time I refused to cave for a whole week, he moved in with Claire. Claire spent the night wearing his shirt and showed up to parties with him as his girlfriend. He said, "You'll only feel jealous when Claire becomes my proxy girlfriend. "She's your best friend. No matter how close she and I get, it doesn't count as cheating." After this fight, he extended Claire's stint as his proxy girlfriend to a full month. A video call came in right after. "Lay-lay, it's your fifth anniversary today. "If you don't apologize soon, I'll be the one going home with Tyrus to meet his parents this Thanksgiving." On the other end, friends started laughing and counting down. They were all waiting for me to get jealous, cry, and beg Tyrus to reconcile, just like always. But I just left the three-person "Proxy Girlfriend" group chat. [A month is too short.] [Make it permanent this time.]

Over the weekend, my wife, Madeline Puth, invited her coworker, Kenneth Wilson, over for dinner. When the three of us reached the front door, Kenneth casually pressed his finger to the fingerprint lock. The door clicked open. I froze and stared at him. Madeline glanced at me and said as if it were the most natural thing in the world, "He's been here a few times before. He registered his fingerprint for convenience." Kenneth smiled at me. I returned his smile without a word. Then I walked inside, grabbed my bag, and headed straight for the door. Madeline hurried after me. "Where are you going?" I pulled the door open. "I'm clearly not the man of this house anymore, so of course I'm leaving."

After remarrying Odette Fairbanks, Ezra Whitlock turns into the perfect husband, one who no longer checks up on her or gets jealous. He no longer wakes up early to make her a balanced breakfast, and he no longer shows up at the hospital right on time with a home-cooked lunch for her. Even when he finds a box of ultra-thin condoms on her passenger seat, he quietly puts it away for her and pretends he hasn't seen it. Odette, however, begins to panic and starts volunteering the very explanations she's always been too proud to give.

“Milana, did you secretly marry Miles Garrett while abroad? Does Ernest know about this?" Milana Orr was just touching up her lipstick and staring at her striking reflection in the mirror. Then, she remarked in an utterly unconcerned voice, "Oh, leave it already. I’ve got the call on speakerphone." Her best friend, Clarice Rivers, dropped her voice to a sharp whisper, "Is Ernest with you?" Milana smiled, then turned around to glance at Ernest, who was seated on the couch and waiting for her to finish getting ready. She smiled coyly, "Yeah, he’s sitting right behind me, but it's fine. It's not like he can hear us anyway." After a brief silence, Clarice spoke again, in a slightly sharper tone this time, "He lost his hearing and became disabled because he tried to save you when you tried to end it all by jumping into the river." "That’s exactly why I went and got married overseas instead." A complex look surfaced in Milana's voice as she cut Clarice off. "But I'm going to stay right here in the country, and we’re going to have a grand wedding together in a week. "That's my way of repaying him for taking care of me over the last five years. "As for the actual marriage license... Well, let’s just forget about that for now." Meanwhile, Ernest was clutching the edges of the magazine so tightly the paper crumpled.

After secretly dating Nicholas Jones for three years, I got tired of keeping our relationship hidden, so I decided to share a little something about us online. But before I could hit publish, my coworker leaned over my shoulder and squealed, "Oh my God! You're following those two, too?" I followed her finger to the hottest thread on our company's gossip forum. One glance was enough to make my heart ache. The couple everyone in the building was obsessed with? My boyfriend and my best friend. My coworker kept gushing, completely unaware. "They meet on the fourth-floor terrace every single day. He always brings her cigarettes and snacks. "And you know what's even cuter? They lean in close to light each other's cigarettes. When it snows, they even tuck their hands into each other's coat pockets! Everyone's betting on when they'll finally go public." She kept talking, but I barely heard a word. The ringing in my ears drowned out everything. I took a screenshot of the thread and sent it to our group chat, the one with just the three of us. Nicholas replied with a single sentence. "It's a misunderstanding." … That evening, I ran into Nicholas and my best friend by the elevators. I had spent three years pretending we were not together, but maybe it was finally time for everyone to know the truth. I reached for the scarf in Nicholas' hand, ready to make our relationship public. Yet, he casually moved out of my reach and wrapped it around my best friend's neck instead. A few people nearby started snickering, and suddenly everything clicked. I thought, 'Of course everyone thought they were dating. Neither of them had ever bothered to set the record straight.' The elevator doors opened. Nicholas held one open, frowning at me. "Come on. We'll talk on the way." I stepped back and smiled. "No. I'm not going with you." After three years of being his dirty little secret, I was done—and so were we.

On the third meeting with his girlfriend’s parents, Sebastian Haynes, received another text from his childhood friend, Kylie Miller. “I’m sorry, Mr. and Mrs. Tucker. Something came up. I gotta leave now.” Melanie Tucker reached out and grabbed his arm, whispering, “Do you really have to leave right now? My parents spent so much time on dinner. At least eat something before you go.” He placed his phone in front of her. Kylie’s message was a short “It’s getting foggy.” “This is our code,” he said, his tone dead serious, as if Kylie would die if he didn’t show up at once. “Kylie struggles with severe depression. Whenever she’s on the edge, she sends this to me. I promised her that once she sends this line, no matter what I’m doing, I’ll drop everything and go to her. No exceptions.” “Can’t you go after dinner?” Melanie pleaded. “It’ll take two hours at most.” “Melanie, Kylie doesn’t send the code out of whim. It means she’s at her breaking point. I won’t be able to live with the regret if anything happens. I’m sorry.” He looked toward her parents. “Mr. and Mrs. Tucker, I’m so sorry, but I have to go. I’ll make it up to you another day.” He walked out without looking back even once. The front door slammed shut with a heavy bang, startling her parents. “Did something happen? Sebastian left in such a rush.” Melanie forced a faint smile as she stared at the untouched roast beef and dinner spread on the table. Over five years, Kylie had sent Sebastian that same “It’s getting foggy” message hundreds of times. Whenever they were out on movie dates and he got her text, he would leave halfway through. On New Year’s Eve, just as they were waiting for the firework show, he had abandoned her for Kylie’s sake. One time when Melanie was burning with a 104-degree fever, he had left her lying limply in bed and bolted into the night to find Kylie.

My girlfriend used to answer every call I made. Then her first love came back to town. Since then, she’d begun ignoring my calls. The first time, she rolled out a red carpet at the airport to welcome that man home. With cameras flashing around her, she glanced at my name on her phone and let it ring. The second time, she was throwing him a birthday party while I sat alone at the restaurant where we'd agreed to meet. I waited until the staff locked up for the night. And then came the hundredth call. Acute appendicitis had left me in so much pain I could barely stay conscious, but I managed to dial her number one last time. All I heard was the same automated message: "The number you dailed is busy now..." I later learned she'd been celebrating a major contract win with him at a restaurant overlooking the city. He even posted a picture of them together. "Thanks for making me your top priority," his caption read. Someone commented, "You two are practically a couple already. When are you making it official?" He replied with a blushing emoji. By the time she reached the hospital, my surgery was over. She smelled of another man's tobacco smoke. "Sorry. I couldn't get away from the business dinner," she told me. "You know he just moved back. He needs my help getting established. I promise it won't happen again." The anesthesia hadn't fully worn off, but somehow I managed a polite smile. "Okay," I said. Don't worry. There won't be a next time. Not for us.

I'm an artist, but a car accident takes away my sight. My childhood sweetheart, Clara Vance, stays by my side when I'm at my lowest. She becomes the only light in my life, and we eventually get married. Two years later, I accidentally come across an audio recording on her computer. "Clara, thanks for saving me, but you told the doctor to take Brandon's corneas without his permission and used them to restore my sight. "What are you going to tell him when he wakes up? What if he calls the police? What are we going to do?" "He'll never find out the truth. He can't see anymore, so I'll marry him and keep him under my control. Desmond, I'd do anything for you." It feels as though someone has just dumped a bucket of ice water over me, sending a chill through me. The woman I thought had saved me has been lying to me from the very beginning. After sending a copy of the audio recording to my phone, I call a lawyer to draw up the divorce papers. Then I head to the hospital alone for a follow-up eye exam. If that's what really happened, then it's time for me to end things with Clara.

Married to Jasper Brook for six years, I found out that he was keeping a mistress under his wing. She was stunning but timid, shrinking back at the slightest raised voice. Because of this, Jasper never lost his temper around her. He indulged her fragility and treated her preciously. However, the mistress wasn’t as obedient as she appeared. When she stirred up trouble with me, Jasper’s patience snapped, and he unleashed his fury on her. The next day, she sent me a photo of her neck covered in hickeys. “Selena, Mr. Brook is so scary. I’m terrified.”

Everyone knows I'm Sinead Powell's most loyal dog. I take bullets for her during the day and share her bed at night. In the past ten years, I've never once crossed the line. But on the day Sinead secures the western coast partnership deal, I kneel in the Powell family chapel and formally ask to leave. Sinead's grandfather, Gregory Powell, stares at me with an intimidating gaze. "Are you sure you want to leave the Powell family?" I prostrate myself and press my forehead to the ground. "Please grant my request, Mr. Powell." I came from a reclusive family that specializes in combat arts. When my father was falsely accused and sent to prison, Gregory's wife, May Powell, has stepped in and saved his life. To repay her kindness, Dad assigned me to protect her only granddaughter, Sinead. Three years ago, Wesley White appeared with the emerald pendant left behind by the late May and became Sinead's fiancé. He subjected me, her loyal bodyguard who she barely even acknowledges as her lover, to relentless torment. Over the past three years, I've had a broken leg and lost my eyesight. The worst torture I've suffered is when Wesley lost a bet and handed me over like a plaything to a sadistic South Arlian businesswoman. I was brutally carved up 99 times, and my body was still covered in scars to this day.