Mistress Romance 短篇故事與 Countdown 小說

It was the fourth anniversary of our relationship. Heather Hilmann took her friend Liam Sherr and me went to have barbecue together. The waiter recognized them and smiled, asking, "Still the usuals?" Heather nodded. It was a table by the window for two, and Liam sat on the inside. The ribeye had slightly charred edges, and the dipping sauce had no onions. She gave the first piece and the last piece to Liam. I sat near the aisle, and there was not even a dipping‑sauce dish in front of me. When they paid the bill, the waiter checked the membership records and reminded them with a smile, "Ms. Hilmann and Mr. Sherr, tonight was your 100th visit. You can take your customized grill pan home." A line of words was engraved on the back of the grill pan: [Heather and Liam, Together Forever.] The date was three years ago. I then remembered that Heather had been at the hospital celebrating my birthday that day. It turned out that the two hours she had been away were not for a company meeting. Liam touched the engraving and asked her with a smile, "After you and Ian Jeffrey get married, will we still have our monthly get‑together?"

The day after my C-section, I had a divorce attorney come to the hospital. The person handling my case was my husband Daniel's younger sister, Emily Markham. She stared at me for a long time, disbelief written all over her face. "What are you doing? You just had my brother's baby yesterday!" My voice stayed flat. "Your brother didn't even wait for me to finish giving birth before he went out on a boat with Rebecca Lennox. "Why would I keep a husband like that?" Emily was quiet for a few seconds, but she still defended him. "Rebecca just got divorced, and her depression's really bad. My brother's a doctor. He couldn't stop worrying about her. "He only went to check on her because he felt responsible. Do you really have to take it as far as divorce? "The baby was just born. How can he not have a father?" My expression cold, I cut her off. "He does have a father. His father just decided he didn't want him first." Emily went pale. She reached for my hand, testing the waters. "I know my brother's always been way too invested in Rebecca, but that's only because they grew up together. "We all know he loves you. Please don't divorce him, okay?" I met her hopeful gaze, and the corner of my mouth twitched. I pulled my arm free and called the law firm. "Your attorney isn't very professional. I'd like a different one."

On the very night Finn Chapman's first love got divorced, he threw the ninety-ninth divorce agreement at me. "Lisa's heart is broken. She can't move on. I have to take care of her," he said. Even our seven-year-old son tried to persuade me. "You should just agree to the divorce and leave," he told me. "Let Lisa move in. We don't need a maid like you anymore." Both father and son were certain I'd scream, cry, beg them not to throw me out. But I didn't. I simply nodded, quietly signed my name on the divorce papers, and left. Ten years later, my son became the top scorer on the SATs. During an interview, a reporter asked him, "What has motivated you to study so hard all these years?" He went silent for a moment. Then, in front of everyone, his eyes turned red. "Because I wanted to tell my mom," he said, voice trembling, "I've grown up now. Will you come back? Please don't leave me again."

A year ago, when Bailey Knight's side girl, Lucy Day, showed up in front of me, causing a scene, he had his people beat her until she lost the baby and tossed her out. Then he groveled before me for three straight hours, begging me to forgive him. Looking at the man I'd loved for ten years, looking so pitiful and broken, I eventually caved. Later, I caught Lucy sneaking around Bailey's villa in the suburbs, so I had her thrown out again. Three days before our wedding, Bailey grabbed me by the neck and shoved me up against the railing on the second-floor balcony, yelling so hard that his voice broke. "We already took Lucy's baby once! She can't handle it happening again. She's fragile. You're a woman—how can you not understand that? "I've given you the title of Mrs. Knight. I'd give you my life. Isn't that enough? Why can't you just accept her?" The next second, his secretary ran up to say they'd found Lucy. He shoved me down the stairs. The pain when my arm snapped made me feel like my whole body was being torn apart. But he didn't even look back. Staring at the cold, heartless man in front of me, I felt something inside me go completely dead. I picked up my phone and called Arnold Greenwood. "I don't wanna marry him anymore. Come get me."

On the night of my wedding, my best friend's younger brother wiped the sweat from his forehead and asked me, “It’s a little big. Can you handle it?” I stared at his perfectly defined abs, my mind going completely blank. “What?” He repeated, “Can you handle it?” My voice jumped an octave from my panic. “Aren't we supposed to take things slow? Isn’t this way too fast?” That night, the sound-activated lights in the house flickered on and off until dawn. Meanwhile, my ex-husband was squatting downstairs. His eyes were swollen red from crying, but I did not even spare him a thought. Back then, when I agreed to let him proceed with a fake wedding with his childhood sweetheart, Miles Carter thought our cold war was over. When he explained things to me, he said, “Vivian and I will only be married on paper. The ceremony is just to satisfy my mom. I swear, when this is over, we’ll live as a real couple.” I remained silent. I just stared at the countdown on my phone, counting the days until I could finally leave. He did not know that the moment he tricked me into signing the divorce papers, our marriage had already ceased to exist.

Everyone believed Ethan Cross loved Isabella Winters to his core, but nobody knew he'd already found an Isabella look-alike to keep him company through the lonely nights. Even when Isabella recovered, he continued his affair. Little did he know that Isabella's recovery was temporary—within two months, she would lose every memory she'd ever made. After that, she would forget Ethan completely, and her love for him would be erased forever.

[No matter how carefully you plan, fate can erase everything with a single stroke.] The moment I confirmed that Delilah Carter was cheating on me, that post appeared on my phone. I opened it calmly and scrolled to the comments beneath a thread titled "Unfaithful". Then I added a few lines of my own. [How unbelievable can it be?] [A coworker snapped a casual vacation photo and posted it online. Out of thousands of people in the background, my fiancee and my best friend just happened to end up in the same frame.] [Our wedding is in three days, yet here I am, rushing across the country in the middle of the night to catch them together.] After posting the comment, I locked my phone. The wallpaper display happened to be our wedding portrait. Leaning against the white wall of the hotel corridor, I closed my bloodshot eyes in exhaustion. Only after the intense, frenzied noises inside finally stopped did I raise my hand—still wearing my wedding ring—and knock on the door. "Who is it?" Delilah opened the door wearing a silk camisole. I pushed past her and walked inside. Marcel Graham froze when he saw me, unsure how to react. "Cedric Davenport..." Before he could say anything else, the beautiful Delilah threw herself in front of him. "It was me! I seduced Marcel! Whatever you want to do, take it out on me! Leave him alone!" They clung to each other like tragic lovers facing the end of the world, desperate to hold on to one another. I stood silently in the darkness, my expression vacant, as I breathed in the lingering musky scent in the room. I didn't argue or make a scene. I simply committed the moment to memory. I told myself not to look back or forgive. Then I opened the invitation to Europe that had been sitting untouched in my inbox for months. On the final day before it expired, I accepted. From that moment on, the two things I treasured most—love and friendship—became nothing more than illusions.

Victoria Graham told me we'd have to postpone getting our marriage license again just as I was picking up my fork. Victoria set down her cutlery, her tone as casual as if she were commenting on the weather. "Next time." I took a bite, chewed, and swallowed. "Okay." She glanced at me, then lowered her head and reached for another bite. Before taking it, she looked up at me again. "You're not angry?" I took another bite and answered calmly, "I'm not." We'd been engaged for six months, and this was the 17th time she'd postponed getting our marriage license. She was used to it. So was I. I ate slowly and finished my meal, one mouthful at a time. She didn't touch her food again. After taking my last bite, I got up to clear the dishes. As I passed her, she grabbed my wrist. "Lucas, next Monday. I'll definitely be free next week. We've already had the engagement party anyway. A few more days won't make a difference. Don't worry. I definitely won't stand you up this time." I lowered my gaze to the hand wrapped around my wrist, then looked back at her and smiled. "Okay." Over the past six months, she'd said "next week" 9 times, "definitely" 13 times, and "don't worry" 16 times. Even so, we had still never gotten our marriage license. And next week wouldn't be any different. Because this time, I was the one who was going to stand her up.

Before my abortion, my best friend asked, "You're pregnant with Zeke's baby. Why do you suddenly want to break up with him?" I handed her my phone. "Because of one message." The conversation was still open to the text I had sent around noon. I included a picture of my lunch and complained about how terrible the takeout was. Four hours later, Zeke Evans replied with two simple words. [I see.] But when I checked social media, I saw that he liked a picture of Hailey Moore's lunch and commented, [Takeout isn't good for you. I'll cook for you from now on, like I did today.] Underneath, the two of them exchanged more than a dozen pointless comments, chatting as though they never ran out of things to say to each other. I stared at the post for a long time before deleting the message I had started typing, asking what he'd had for lunch. Then I scrolled back through our old conversations. For seven years, I shared every little detail of my life with Zeke: flowers I passed on the street, weeds pushing through cracks in the sidewalk, the stray cat that hung around outside my building. In the beginning, he was just as excited to tell me about his day. Over time, his replies dwindled into distracted, simple answers. It started when Hailey came back. When you love someone, you want to share your life with them. Everything Zeke stopped telling me, he was now telling her. "Ruby, they're ready for you." The nurse was calling my name. I looked out the window at the evening sky, then got up and followed her. The sunset was beautiful that day, but for the first time, I had no desire to take a picture and send it to Zeke.

The trip for my wedding photoshoot had been planned for weeks, but I came down with acute gastroenteritis out of nowhere. My fiancée, April Neville, looked at me with nothing but concern. "Then none of us will go. What's the point of a trip without the leading man?" My best friend, her sister, and her closest girlfriend all agreed without hesitation. I thought I had found a once-in-a-lifetime love and friendships to match. Some time later, I picked up my fiancée's tablet to stream a show and accidentally tapped into a shared cloud album. In the latest live photo, my fiancée and her ex-boyfriend were kissing beneath the bell tower in Miravel. The friends who had sworn the trip would mean nothing without me were clapping and cheering in the background. "April and Sebastian finally got their happy ending. You have to admit, it's pretty romantic." "Without Oliver stirring things up, Sebastian's so much happier." "He probably still has no idea they never even bought him a ticket. The only one they booked was for Sebastian." "And his stomach bug? April left him that glass of juice on purpose. It had been sitting out for two days." Listening to those familiar voices, a chill settled over me. If the leading man in April's heart was never me, then it was time I went and found the leading lady meant for me.

Winter came again, and my husband and son broke out in rashes the moment the cold settled in. No doctor identified the allergen. To keep themselves safe, they drew a hard line and moved to a separate house for the season. It did not matter that I slipped and cracked my head open, or that I ended up in the hospital after a car accident. I fought every battle alone. We became strangers who shared a family name, and I became the thing that could kill them. I endured the bitter cold by myself, lonely and aching. I counted the days hoping that spring would bring my family back to me, until I overheard a conversation I was never meant to hear. "Daddy, we only get to see Daphne in winter. Cannot the allergies last a little longer?" Daphne Bullman, my husband's childhood sweetheart. My husband ruffled our son's hair. "All that allergy medicine is not good for you, and Daphne would worry. I will bring you to see her when I can." My son clapped his hands. "Yay! I love the mango candy Daphne gives me in winter, and I get to see her!" Mango. That was the fatal allergen I spent years keeping out of my son's reach. I stood in the freezing wind for a long time before I quietly walked home. Spring returned, and I stopped caring. "Eat whatever you want. If you think I am abusing you, call the police. I do not want custody anyway."

In their four years of marriage, Ethan Sterling had always refused to visit any romantic couple destinations with his wife, Pearl Whitmore. He said she was shallow and just chasing trends. However, when his first love came back from overseas, he could not wait to take her up the legendary mountain where it was said couples who climbed it successfully would grow old together. Pearl divorced him and moved abroad. However, Ethan followed her to the new country, sobbing as he searched for her in the ruins...

Cecilia Jones kept a forgiveness notebook. Six months ago, on Cecilia's birthday, Jeff Lawrence abandoned her to meet Yvonne Smith. It was the 93rd time she’d forgiven him. Three months prior, when Yvonne mentioned she was allergic to cat dander, Jeff gave away the cat Cecilia had raised for years. Cecilia forgave him for the 94th time. One month ago, Jeff got drunk and woke up in the same bed as Yvonne. He insisted that nothing had happened and accused Cecilia of having a dirty mind. Cecilia forgave him for the 95th time.

My girlfriend, Natalie Whitcombe, was the heiress to a wealthy family. Yet, she still took my salary and insisted that we save every penny together so we could eventually run away and start a new life. She bought me only discounted items close to their expiration dates, picked up clothes her neighbors no longer wanted for me to wear, and bought me the cheapest version of everything. Meanwhile, I turned down a high-paying out-of-town job assignment just to stay by her side. I even secretly worked part-time at a restaurant after my regular shifts, hoping to earn a little extra just to save more money. Unfortunately, I eventually ran into Natalie at that very restaurant. The woman who was always telling me we needed to save money had just spent tens of millions to reserve the entire restaurant for her childhood sweetheart, Ewan Somerset, to celebrate his birthday. Then, she even announced that Ewan was her fiancé in front of everyone. Ewan smiled. "If I'm your fiance, what does that make Sylvan Joffre? I heard he's been working himself to the bone at all sorts of part-time jobs every day, saving money so he can elope with you." "I'm just fooling around with him," Natalie said nonchalantly while withdrawing every last cent from my salary account. "It's not my fault that he was stupid enough to take it seriously. This is everything he saved over five years. Consider this a tip and split it among everyone." I received a hundred dollars from my own savings before the cheering crowd pushed me aside. Then, my phone pinged with a text notification from Natalie. "Babe, I'm standing in line to buy discounted goods right now. I'm sorry you've had to struggle alongside me. Once we've saved a million, we'll run away together." However, I would never believe her lies ever again. So, I texted my supervisor, "I'll accept the assignment. I don't care if I never come back."

The night Helen Kerr's first love proposes, I stand on the 33rd-floor terrace, holding my terminal stomach cancer diagnosis. Through the glass, I watch the man drop to one knee. They exchange rings, and she slides the ring meant for me onto his finger. I stay hidden outside in the excruciating pain, refusing to ruin their moment. Then Helen spots me. There is no panic or guilt, just pure disgust in her eyes. She sneers, gestures toward the ledge, and mouths through the window, "Jump, if you're gonna jump. Stop acting just to ruin my night. If you actually die, maybe I'll believe you." Right then, the last flicker of life in me goes dark. I look at the woman I've loved for a decade and finally smile. That's a smile of pure relief. I turn and climb over the railing. "You're free now, Helen. Enjoy the final gift."

“Miss Green, the results show that you have late-stage pancreatic cancer. The situation isn’t good for you. If you give up on treatment, you might have less than a month left. Are you sure you don’t want to receive treatment? Will your husband agree to it?” “I’m sure that… he will.” After I hung up, I surveyed the empty house and felt sadness fill every fiber of my heart. I had thought that the pain I felt was due to my dear old friend, gastritis, but it was cancer. I sighed and looked at the picture on the table. The eighteen-year-old Zach Stone stared at me in the photo. It had been years since, but I still remembered how the snow had fallen on my hair. At that time, Zach had smiled and asked whether this counted as us growing old together.

Sienna Lewis had been with Sea City’s cold and distant CEO, Zayden Scott, for four years, but he still refused to let his guard down. So, she called her mother. “Mom, you can go ahead and arrange that pilot interview for me now.” On the other end, Helen Bennett sounded shocked. “Really? Didn’t you want to stay in Sea City and get married? You even gave up your dream of becoming a pilot.” Sienna looked at Zayden under the dim lights. He was madly obsessed with that girl and terrified of losing her. She smiled self-deprecatingly. Once she returned to Helmswick, her career would pick up again. From then on, nothing would hold her back. She would be Sienna Lewis, the pilot, again, not some pathetic woman—trapped in a forbidden love affair.

While I'm folding my girlfriend Lucinda Fowler's clothes, she suddenly says, "You're actually pretty pathetic. In fact, you're even more embarrassing than a simp." My hands pause. Just as I'm about to argue back, she cuts me off. "Sure, you love me. Moreover, you're diligent, dependable, and take great care of me. But sometimes you just can't compare to Owen. Anyone could do what you do. In short, you're nowhere near Owen's level." It suddenly occurs to me that a month ago, her ex-boyfriend, Owen Boyd, invited her to a concert. However, I decline on her behalf. Even to this day, she still holds it against me. I throw her clothes on the floor and turn to walk away. As it happens, my supervisor, Eve Hoffman, is asking me to go with her to the overseas branch. I turn it down for Lucinda's sake. But the moment I really walk away and clear the path for Owen, why does Lucinda cry and plead for me to return?

A homecoming banquet was organized for my wealthy boyfriend’s first love. At the banquet, he forced me to drink an entire glass of Whisky, even though I was pregnant, just to make his first love happy. My abdomen was in excruciating pain, and blood was seeping through my white dress. He kissed his first love in front of me as his friends cheered him on. As I was losing consciousness, I heard a cold remark. “Ignore her. She’s just a mistress. She won’t be able to live without me.” When I woke up in the hospital, I caressed my flat stomach and wanted to send him a photo of the medical report detailing my miscarriage. However, I realized that his profile picture had been changed to a photo of his first love’s side profile. He even blocked me again. However, this time, I did not beg him as I had in the past. Instead, I booked a flight ticket to leave the country.

After graduation, my girlfriend, Ada Tyler, drove me home to meet my parents. Except Owen—my little brother—had already claimed the front seat. He flashed me a smug grin. "You cool with that, Jace?" Ada sighed. "He gets carsick. He needs the front. Can you sit in back? Please?" At a rest stop, I got in line for her favorite iced Americano. When I came back, the car was gone. All I had was a voicemail. "Owen's stomach hurts. I'm taking him to the hospital. Find your own way home." Behind her, Owen was laughing. Rain came down hard. Three buses and five hours later, I finally made it home. The second I reached the door, Dad laughed. "Ada, you really know how to take care of people. Owen would be lucky to marry you." Mom patted her shoulder. "You're exactly the kind of woman I want for my son." I pushed the door open. The whole room went dead silent.