Cerita Pendek Melodramatic Romance & Novel Mistress Cheating

The day after my twin sister died in an accident, I married her fiancé, the man who was supposed to be my brother-in-law. That very day, Mark Zeller printed thousands of copies of my sister's death report and told everyone I was the real murderer. Because of this, everyone despised me, and my parents immediately disowned me. After we got married, he was constantly in the tabloids with his flings and brought countless women home. He'd make me stand by the bedroom door, listening to them making love. Then, after he was done, he'd make me take photos of him and his lovers in bed. I silently endured it all. My only request was to have a baby with him. Mark scoffed. "Gloria Hale, how can you be so shameless? If you're so desperate to sleep with a man, just go out and find one. Instead, you're begging for it at my feet like an animal. Aren't you disgusted with yourself? "You think having my baby will make me change my ways? Let me tell you, never!" To crush my hopes, he went even further and spent a fortune to build a castle in the suburbs. Every single room in that castle housed one of his lovers. The people in our social circle said, "Mark's mistresses are way lovelier than his wife at home who only knows how to wag her tail like a dog." Three years later, Mark's mother sent me a text to remind me: "Gloria, remember our agreement. Three years are almost up. You have one more week to sort everything out."

The night before the design competition, my husband took my design draft, promising to secure a patent to protect my work. In the intense competition, my work stood out and won first place. During the award ceremony, I walked on stage wearing the necklace that my daughter and I had made together. Suddenly, my seven-year-old daughter rushed up to the stage, screaming, "Mom, how could you steal Veronica's necklace? That's horrible and embarrassing. Just come down and go home with me."

On my birthday, my wife, Iris Lockwood, has ordered a few workers to carry a dust-covered second-hand air conditioner home as my birthday present. She points at the air conditioner while gushing excitedly, "This is a big brand, you know! It might look dirty on the outside, but the insides are brand new! "Remember, we're scrimping all the pennies we can get in order to move into a penthouse in the future. That way, we'll be able to live comfortably as a family of three!" I'm very understanding toward Iris, seeing as it's very difficult to earn money nowadays. So, I endure the pain that's flaring from an old hip injury I've sustained during my early days as a manual laborer as I crouch on the floor and clean the air conditioner for two long hours. But as soon as it's turned on, chemical powder sprays from it, soon filling the whole apartment. Because of that, our three-year-old son, Flynn Holt, goes into shock immediately from the severe allergy. With red-rimmed eyes, I yell at Iris to take Flynn to the hospital. But she quickly leaves after taking a phone call. "Crap, my biggest client is met with a car accident! I need to deal with it right away! You can flag down a cab and take Flynn to the hospital on your own!" That midnight, I head over to Quantum Heights, which is known as the most luxurious residence in the city, after receiving a phone call regarding the wrong address. In the corridor, I see Iris embracing a young man. She has nothing but love and affection for him. "There's no need to save money, you know. Young men at your age love new and branded goods, don't you?" Right… To Iris, a useless husband like me who didn't have an educational background only deserved to use second-hand things. But even the most saintly man will revolt one day once his patience is worn out. Besides, I've been faking my nice, understanding personality all along.

When Wendy Chance's father, Josiah, was rendered speechless, I was the only one he wanted to go to speech therapy with. Every time Wendy and I wanted to go out, Josiah would clutch the corner of my shirt. Once again, Wendy would stuff an unused train ticket in my hand and pat my shoulder apologetically. "Treat my dad well, and I'll make it up to you on another trip. Evan can accompany me on this business trip instead. Don’t overthink this." Evan Striker was the secretary she claimed knew his place. I had collected 27 unused tickets over the past three years. They were from unrealized trips to the mountains, historical towns, and the beach. Every ticket turned into a post on Evan's social media accounts. I thought Wendy was just busy with work until one day, I overheard Josiah speaking clearly in the study as I brought him some water. "Did Evan have fun this time?" Wendy laughed. "You're a pretty good actor, Dad. Joel doesn't suspect a thing." Through the crack of the door, I could see Wendy and my best friend, Eli Conway, sitting at the table. Eli was holding up his phone to remind everyone about something. "Joel is supposed to accompany Wendy to the celebration party tomorrow. Remember to follow the plan and be sick tomorrow, Mr. Chance. That should stop him from attending the party and embarrassing Wendy." Everyone laughed, agreeing with the plan, and Josiah even started practising vague hand gestures. I lowered my head to look at the latest ticket in my hand. I had been duped, doing my best to make these schemers’ web of lies come to life. The ticket fell from my hand, and I no longer wanted to wait for Wendy to finally keep her promises.

After Lyra Beaumont, a financially disadvantaged student I sponsored, was sexually harassed at work, she came close to taking her own life. I paid to open a pottery shop for her so she could run her own business. When Forrest Croft found out, he spoke with open disdain. "There's no smoke without fire. Why do you insist on bringing someone like her into our lives? Don't blame anyone else if you end up getting hurt." I stared at him in disbelief. "Forrest, how can you say something so cruel?" After that argument, I left the country in a huff and spent two months abroad. There were 58 ceramic mugs in the display cabinet in our living room. During a video call, Forrest proudly announced what he had been up to. "Honey, I've been stopping by her shop every day to support her business. You must be happy now, right?" Seeing the tenderness in his eyes, I suddenly felt a little guilty for being so stubborn. I changed my ticket to the earliest available flight and rushed home, hoping to surprise him. But the moment I opened the front door, I heard wet, squelching sounds coming from our bedroom. "Forrest, you take a mug every time we're done. My hands are getting sore." "That's barely anything. I'm going to fill that cabinet." I stared at the 58 mugs in the cabinet, and suddenly the whole thing seemed absurd. Two months. Sixty days. Fifty-eight times. He had not just been supporting her business. He had been sleeping with her in my bed too.

My childhood sweetheart who promised to marry me the moment I graduated proposed to Camille Willow, my sister, during my graduation ceremony. At that moment, Dennis Malcolm, the most eligible and admired bachelor in Blington City's elite circle, stepped forward and confessed his love for me immediately after my childhood sweetheart's proposal was accepted. For five years after our marriage, Dennis showered me with devotion, treating me with such tenderness that it felt as though I were the center of his world. But everything shattered the day I overheard a conversation between him and his close friend. "Dennis, now that Camille's on top, are you really going to keep pretending with Tracy?" "It doesn't matter. I'll never have Camille. Besides, as long as I'm here, she'll never disrupt Camille's happiness," he answered. The paper notes he held dear, each one carefully preserved, revealed a harsh truth. Each one carried her name, accompanied by heartfelt wishes: "May Camille be released from her burdens. May she find peace within herself." "May Camille achieve all she dreams of, and may her heart love freely." "Camille, we were never meant to be together in this life. I can only hope that in another, we will walk side by side." … Five years of devotion shattered in a single moment of clarity. I crafted a false identity and planned an elaborate drowning to vanish without a trace. From this day forward, in this life and all others, we shall never cross paths again.

My family was the wealthiest in River City, with assets worth trillions. On my eighteenth birthday, my brother, Calvin Chester, gifted me an entire jewelry production line while my parents built a private museum and named it after me. The greatest hardship I’d ever faced? Learning how to spend my inheritance. Then I met Dario Darwin. For him, I cut ties with my family and helped him build his empire from scratch. But when I was three months pregnant, he demanded I drink on behalf of his assistant, Fran Fallon, a woman “slumming it” as an intern while secretly being the heiress to another fortune. “Stop pretending,” he sneered. “You’re not like Fran, raised in pampered luxury. You’re older, so act like it and take care of your juniors!” Then, to the clients leering around the table, “My wife’s just being dramatic. She can hold her liquor. Don’t hold back—pour her another!” Amid their jeers, he left with Fran, abandoning me to a room of drunken men. Years of sacrifice, only to be humiliated. I scheduled an abortion and called him. “We’re done.” Through the phone, Fran’s simpering voice chimed in, “It’s my fault that Clea is upset… I should quit and go home to my family’s billions.” “Ignore her. She’s faking it,” Dario cooed back. On the day Dario signed the divorce papers, my parents and Calvin came to take me home. Our marriage came to an end, but his tragedy was about to begin.

I've been married to Joel Hoover for three years. But whenever we go out with my best friend, Cynthia Marsh, people assume they're the couple. At the mall, sales associates hand them the gifts meant for couples. At restaurants, servers ask if they want to take part in the couples' promotion. When we travel, strangers compliment them on what a great couple they make, then hand me a phone to take their picture. At first, it makes me uncomfortable, but Joel never corrects anyone. Cynthia always laughs it off. "Maybe we just happen to look like a couple. Don't read into it." She says it so casually that every time, I tell myself not to make a big deal out of it. Then Joel tells me he's finally taking me to meet his family at a holiday dinner. I spend three whole months getting ready. But the moment we walk in, his mother grabs Cynthia's hand, beaming. "Just look at these two. Don't they make a perfect couple?" The relatives immediately start teasing them too. "You two must kiss a lot. You're even starting to look alike!" The whole room erupts in laughter. I stand there, watching Joel. He doesn't correct anyone. He just reaches over and tucks a loose strand of Cynthia's hair behind her ear. That's when it finally hits me. Joel isn't staying quiet because he can't be bothered to explain. He just doesn't want me to be his wife.

A week before the wedding, my fiancée, Gracie Howell, suddenly starts gagging at the sight of food. I figure it's just pre-wedding stress. I bring it up to my younger brother, Luca Norton. He glares at the warm soup on the table and sneers. "Some women claim they're child-free, but they secretly want kids all along! She probably got knocked up behind your back and is gonna pin it on you!" I hand him the bowl with no green onions. "Nonsense. Gracie isn't like that." "The hell she isn't! The other guy could be standing right in front of you, and you'd still be smiling, serving him soup!" He acts all righteous and protective, like a loyal guard dog. I just shake my head and smile. Luca is wild and rebellious, while Gracie is quiet and traditional. They've always rubbed each other the wrong way, clashing every single time they meet. I'm used to it by now. Three days later, I take time off work to decorate our new home, only to find the front door ajar. The familiar bickering drifts out, laced with heavy, breathless panting. "You're about to be a dad, and you're still out doing reckless drag races? Keep it up, and I'll buy a chain to lock you to the bed." Gracie makes an empty threat. Luca scoffs, thrusting his hips with a cocky grin. "Worry about yourself, Gracie. After all, you're carrying my baby, while your dear fiancé thinks you're just stressed out and is dying of concern for you." The white roses slip from my hand and fall to the floor. I stand at the threshold, frozen. Who knew that all their bitter bickering was just a cover for passion? In that moment, the woman who promised to love me until we were a hundred is dead to me.

On their wedding day, right as Elena Emerton and Kyle Fenton were about to exchange rings, a woman rushed Kyle with a knife. Elena moved on instinct, throwing herself in front of Kyle. The blade sank into her chest, and she crumpled into Kyle's arms. As the woman was dragged away, she screamed, "Kyle Fenton, we're not done! How dare you get married?" That was when Elena recognized her. Allison Smyth. Kyle's sworn enemy for the past six years. Before anyone could react, Allison broke free and held the knife to her throat. "Kyle, I'm tired. Let's end this." Kyle's eyes went wide. He dropped Elena and rushed to Allison, catching the blade with his bare hand. Elena hit the floor hard. Blood spread across her white wedding dress. Kyle held Allison tight, terrified she'd hurt herself. When Allison passed out, he scooped her up and rushed right past Elena. Not once did he look back.

I plan on ordering some food using my husband's phone, yet I've noticed a remark that's been saved on the delivery app. "The food is for a pregnant lady. Please make sure to be hygienic and use less oil and salt when making the dishes." I can feel my heart sink. I turn my gaze toward the bathroom, where my husband is. I can't figure out why my husband, who's been firm about not wanting a child, has been ordering meals for pregnant women. After a moment of hesitation, I scroll through the delivery app's order history with shaky hands. Numerous orders have been placed with the same restaurant, one that specializes in making exquisite dishes designed for pregnant women. Each of these food orders costs more than ten thousand dollars. My husband's company address has been chosen as the delivery address, and he's also the recipient. … After exiting the delivery app, I sit on the couch and stare into space. As I look at my husband's well-defined muscles, I recall how he, who's about to hit 40, is suddenly quite invested in getting in shape over the past year. I blurt out asking, "Have you been ordering food to your office often lately?" My husband freezes for a split second. Then, he fixes me with a gentle gaze. "I do that once in a while. Why are you suddenly asking about that? By the way, I haven't had the sweet and sour meatballs you make in a long while. Can you make some for me so that I can bring them to the office for my lunch tomorrow?" I smile at him and agree to his request. Still, I toss and turn in bed as the remark about the pregnant lady in his phone keeps gnawing at me that night.

While I was nine months pregnant, the apple of my husband’s eye moved into our house. Whenever she saw me, she would make a sad face. My husband was sure that I was flaunting my pregnancy to make her angry. “Rachel is frail, and she can’t get pregnant, yet you’re walking around making her upset?! Do I seriously have to teach you a lesson?!” He ordered the bodyguards to lock me in the attic that had not been in use for a long time and told them not to give me food. I pleaded for mercy and told him that the ultrasound scan showed that the twin babies were too big. I told him that the doctor had claimed that I had to be hospitalized while I waited for my delivery. But he laughed as if he had heard the world’s greatest joke. When he spoke, his voice was as cold as ice. “You’re still three days away from your delivery date! Enough with the pitiful act! Repent while you’re in the attic! This is what you get for making Rachel upset!” The contractions hurt so much that I clenched my fists to the point that my nails broke, but no one unlocked the door to the attic. My piercing screams echoed in the attic for a long time until my whole body was soaked in blood, and one of my babies was stuck between my bloody legs. Three days later, my husband ate his breakfast that was not up to his taste and said, “Have Jane make breakfast for me, then have her apologize to Rachel with a gift. If she’s sincere enough, I’ll send her to the hospital to deliver the babies.” But no one dared go up to the attic because the blood that flowed down from it had already reached the second step of the stairs.

Yvonne Sawyer had fallen for a sweet, innocent college guy. Everyone in Kingsport was waiting to see Jaxon Wilder get humiliated. Someone purposely asked, “Ms. Sawyer, you used to be so in love with Mr. Wilder that you nearly turned against your own family for him. How come you’re moving on to someone else?” Yvonne swirled the whiskey in her glass and gave a cold smile. “In love? He was nothing but my boy toy. I’ve had enough of him after all this time. Just looking at him annoys me.” Jaxon was on one knee as he helped a customer try on a new pair of shoes. Eventually, the rumors reached him. His fingers froze for a moment, and his jaw tightened slightly. But he kept smiling. The customer looked around to make sure they were alone before lowering his voice. “Officer Wilder, you’ve been undercover with Yvonne for two years, and you still haven’t found anything. She’s not in love with you anymore; why not walk away and return to the force?” The last trace of emotion in Jaxon’s eyes disappeared. He replied calmly, “There’s no rush. Her new relationship might be the breakthrough I need.”

During a company team-building event, we held a trust fall activity. I stood on the platform with my back to Matthew Walter, my girlfriend's male assistant. My girlfriend, the CEO, held a megaphone and announced, "If you fail to catch someone, that means you don't trust your team." The first time, Matthew failed to catch me, and I slammed into the ground. My girlfriend, Jessica Homer, made excuses for him. "Calum, you're too heavy. Matthew isn't strong enough, so it's understandable." The second time, Matthew failed to catch me again. Jessica snapped impatiently, "Your expression was too serious. You scared Matthew." On the third attempt, I asked to catch him instead. Although I caught him without a problem, she announced to everyone, "Calum caught Matthew, but he let his emotions get in the way. He doesn't pass." Then, she stared at me and said, "Starting tomorrow, you'll be transferred to the logistics department to handle office supply purchasing. Matthew will take over your position as manager." I frowned. "Have you lost your mind?"

In the fifth year of our bland marriage, I receive a message that my husband has booked a hotel room with a woman. Within the next second, seductive pictures of me show up in the work group chat. In the pictures, I seduced my husband but failed. My colleagues in the group chat mock me by saying, "She gave Mr. Reed an ultimatum and forced him to marry her. He was forced to break up with the woman he loves." "Mr. Reed put up with her for five years. It only makes sense that he could no longer resist and decide to reunite with his lover." My sick father dies out of shock, yet my husband does not show up to his funeral. That night, I inform Belinda that I wish to divorce her son. "Back then, you told me that I'm Caleb's blessing in life. You said that he'd have endless success if we were to marry. "As long as I married Caleb for five years, you promised to pay for my father's medical fees. Now that the time is up, you should let me go too."

Back in my hometown, the women would brew wine at a young age for their future husbands. Since college, Jake Sanders and I had left our hometown for a brighter future in a city far away, and we finally returned in glory. I was finally able to open my vat of wine, which had been kept for 28 years. I knew that Jake was quite particular about hygiene, so I changed my wine to store-bought wine during the town celebration, even though I knew it was taboo. When I was about to share this secret with him, I heard his conversation with his buddies. "Are you sure you're going to drink Erica's wine? You'll have to marry her according to tradition if you do that. Won't Cassie be mad?" "Yeah. Cassie has already opened her vat of wine. If no one drinks from it, she can't marry." Jake laughed with indifference. "She won't be able to leave me. She's even willing to change that vat of wine for me. Besides, her wine has been left for 28 years. Who would want to drink that? Erica's wine is only 20-years-old, and I heard wine is sweetest at this stage. "Even though I've chosen Erica, I'll still make sure to treat Cassie well. I'll marry her if no one will." It felt like my heart had been cored out and a cold wind was gusting through it, but I decided to let this go because I was not an unwanted woman, and Jake was not the only man in this world. I replied to the text that was sent to me every year: [Will you marry me?] He replied right away: [Wait for me.]

I stumble across a shared document titled "Honeymoon" on my wife, Talia Smith's, computer. I assume she's finally making good on the promise she's put off for five years. Overjoyed, I click it open, only to find the itinerary is completely different from what we originally agreed on. The original schedule overlaps with my business trip, so I postpone the trip by two days. Since there's no aurora in Glacieland during this time of year, I change the destination to Kjeldsland. Then I remember we're trying to conceive, and our expenses are piling up, so I downgrade our tickets from first class to business class. Just then, another account suddenly appears and changes everything I've edited back to its original state. Immediately after, a line of text pops up in the document. "Mommy, we agreed to go to Glacieland, so we're going to Glacieland! If not, Daddy will be upset!" That catches me off guard, and I assume someone's playing a prank on me. Talia has appeared behind me at some point. "He's the son of my foster brother and me. Next time, I'll definitely go on our honeymoon with you," she explains calmly.

Shane Floyd and I have been dating for seven years, and my parents keep pressuring us to get married. However, Shane keeps saying the same two words. "Let's wait." My parents think we aren't financially ready, so they prepare a generous wedding gift for us. They even buy us a car and a house. However, Shane still says the same two words. "Let's wait." I have no idea what Shane is waiting for, but I decide to wait with him. At our class reunion, I bring out a cake I have prepared for Shane. "Today's Shane's 30th birthday." My classmates start gossiping at once. "I just remembered something. Shane Floyd and Amelia Wood made a pact that if they were both still unmarried at 30 years old, they'd get together!" Amelia Wood smiles shyly. "His wife is right here. Let's not bring that up." Shane simply glances at me. "We're not married, so she's not my wife. I promised I'd wait for you until you turned 30 years old. I didn't break my promise." My heart lurches as I hold the cake. Now I finally know what Shane has been waiting for. As the crowd teases him, Shane leans in to blow out the candles and make a wish. "Here goes my first wish. I wish Amelia is still single." That's enough. I gently set the cake down without making a scene. As the crowd exchanges awkward glances, I turn and leave with my dignity intact. Downstairs, a cab driver is calling out to passersby. "Miss, do you need a ride? Are you waiting for anyone else?" I open the door and get in the cab. "Let's go. I'm not waiting for anyone."

On the morning we were supposed to leave for our elopement trip to the stunning Calistia Mountains, my girlfriend, Jeanie Portman, was nowhere to be found. Worried something had happened to her, I drove to her family's house to look for her, only to find the whole neighborhood strung with wedding banners and streamers. A big outdoor reception was underway, the tables loaded with food. Jeanie stood there in a white gown, leaning into my foster brother's arms as she poured him a toast. Relatives showered the two of them with compliments, calling them a perfect match, while my father sat at the head table, grinning so wide he could barely close his mouth. I nearly lost it and started toward them, but my mother yanked me into a corner before I could get there. "What's gotten into you, making a scene like this? His birth parents died saving your father and me. Handing Jeanie over to him is the least we can do to pay that debt back." My voice shook as I demanded to know why no one had told me sooner. My mother just gave me a flat, dismissive look. "Because you're a teacher, and you've got too sharp a tongue for your own good. If we'd told you ahead of time, you'd have blabbed it to the whole world, and then how were the two of them supposed to have a proper wedding? "That's enough. Don't make a scene. "You've got a stable job. You won't have any trouble finding someone else. Don't ruin our family peace over some woman." I looked past my mother, toward the red carpet where Jeanie and my foster brother stood glowing with happiness, then at the relatives cheering beside them. Something inside me went hollow.

My wife, Jenna Wilkinson, has severe insomnia. She can't sleep if there's even the slightest noise. So after six years of marriage, I've gotten used to living quietly. Once it's past 9:00 pm, I don't turn on the TV, make phone calls, or even eat. I even tiptoe everywhere around the house. Whenever I watch her sleep peacefully, I always feel like all of it is worth it. That is, until one day, when I go to her office to drop off some documents and find the door slightly ajar. Her secretary, Derek Herman, is sitting cross-legged on the carpet, eating chips while a variety show plays at full volume. As for Jenna, she is asleep on the couch. When Derek tries to turn down the volume, Jenna runs her fingers through his hair with her eyes closed, saying, "Don't turn it down. I actually sleep better with a little noise." Standing outside the door, I think back to the terrible cold I had last month. I was so afraid my coughing would wake her that I buried my face in my pillow to muffle my coughs all night. The next morning, she frowned at me. "Lance, you were breathing so loudly last night that I couldn't sleep a wink. Be more careful next time." As the crunching of chips blended with Jenna's steady breathing, I slowly backed away. It turns out she never needed silence to sleep. She simply needs someone, and that someone isn't me. From then on, I never disturbed her sleep again.