เรื่องสั้นแนวMistress Romance และนิยาย Regret

After seven years of marriage, my husband grew tired of our quiet life and took a college student as his mistress. That fragile, pitiable girl held Alain Roth so completely he didn't come home for an entire month, no matter how I begged. On our son's third birthday, I came to their villa, holding the feverish child and pleading for him to return. Inside, he stayed lost in passion with her. Jeff Roth drew his last breath in my arms while their pleasure echoed through the night. At the funeral, Alain held me and wept, swearing he would return to the family and love only me. I agreed, driven solely by Jeff's dying wish. Four years later, a video from his old kindergarten surfaced, showing Alain with a radiant Mabel Flores and a three-year-old boy. The boy smiled brightly at the camera, lifting a trophy high. "Mom, Dad, we're the happiest family in the world!"

My CEO boyfriend promises that he'll only complete 99 wishes with his first love—she's lost her memory after being injured. However, I see them curling up in each other's arms when the wishes are completed. Later, I stop pestering him about him caring for his first love. All I ask from him is an anklet for a baby—I want it as a remembrance of our child's birth, which is happening soon. His gaze softens at the mention of the child. "Once I'm done with this, I'll accompany you shopping so we can pick out things for the baby." I nod compliantly. I don't tell him it's already been a week since I asked a lawyer to draft a breakup agreement. In fact, we're already broken up.

The impoverished student I had sponsored, Jacob Murphy, had accumulated a massive gambling debt. When the debt collectors had kicked the door open, my childhood sweetheart, Renee Austin, had shoved me forward instead. Her voice was cold and distant. “He’s Jacob Murphy. Take him away.” In the darkness of an underground casino, they tore out my fingernails, then smashed my ribs one by one with an iron rod. When the searing pain arrived, I groveled on the floor like a dog. I was weeping and screaming, without a shred of dignity. Then, they “mercifully” gave me one chance to call for help. Clinging to the last sliver of hope, I called Renee. Her voice on the other end sounded very cruel. “If you hadn’t set him up, how would Jacob have ended up buried in gambling debt? Even if you die at their hands, you deserve it.” The dial tone after she hung up became the last sound in my world. Later, I really did die, just as she had said. However, there was not the slightest trace of a smile on Renee’s face. It was as if she had gone mad. Her eyes were bloodshot as she searched every underground gambling den in the city. ‘Renee, why were you crying for me?’ I wondered.

After waiting 17 long years, Huntley Gray finally offers to meet my mother to discuss us getting married. Mom and I sit in a private room in the restaurant, waiting for three hours, but he never shows up. As we leave Room 301, I come face-to-face with him at the door to Room 302. His hand is still wrapped around the waist of a woman holding a freshly minted marriage certificate. I know her. Her name is Quinn Pallard, also known as the delinquent who bullied me all through high school. A crowd surrounds them, laughing and teasing. "So you angst-filled couple finally got your happily ever after!" The woman who said that and is carrying Quinn's purse is my childhood best friend—the same friend who took a slap to the face in high school just to protect me. "Getting 14,000 dollars in wedding gifts just because you two have been dating for 14 long years? Man, you really know how to get the most bang for your buck!" The one patting Huntley on the shoulder and teasing him is his childhood best friend—the same man who swore to me that if Huntley married anyone other than me, none of the guys in their friend circle would show up. "Getting a marriage license isn't enough. You still need an actual wedding. When the time comes, we'll just keep it from Ainsley like we've been doing." The ones giving him this solemn reminder are Huntley's parents—the same parents who called me two days ago, urging me to get Huntley to walk down the aisle with me. My vision blurs. Their figures seem to overlap, then pull apart again. It turns out that out of the 17 years I've spent waiting for Huntley, he's spent 14 of them loving my high school bully. And everyone knows. I'm the only one who's been kept in the dark, like a complete and utter fool.

I make my way to the orphanage after receiving my cancer diagnosis, hoping to bid farewell to the orphan, Lillian Lowe, whom I was sponsoring financially. I unexpectedly find my husband, Henry Graham, who is meant to be on a business trip, and my sister, Felicity Sullivan, who is meant to be on a vacation. Their fingers are intertwined, while they use their free hands to playfully pinch Lillian's cheeks. Lillian rushes into their embrace, weeping pitifully. "Can you get rid of that mean lady at home? I just want to go home with Mommy and Daddy." I finally understand, at that moment, that Henry, whom I thought had loved me the most, is having an affair with Felicity. They even have a child together. Mom and Dad urge me to divorce Henry and make way for his new family. Lillian, the girl I once held dearly in my heart, curses me to an early death. Henry, the one who betrayed me, insists on keeping our marriage. It's too late, though. I'm already dying, just as they wished. Lillian, who once cried so much at the orphanage, now lives in a mansion with a father, a mother, and a pair of doting grandparents. Their perfect little life seems like a never-ending fairy tale. It is only when my lifeless body is before them that everyone suddenly loses their minds.

Late one night, I was scrolling through social media when I came across a post asking people to share their wedding photos. I was about to leave mine in the comments when the pinned reply caught my eye. It was a set of wedding photos of my husband, Sebastian Moore, and my cousin, Xena Zane. My ears rang, and my mind went completely blank. I tapped into the account that had posted them. There were hundreds of posts, and nearly all of them were wedding photos. I scrolled down and opened the very first one. Wendy Tanner, my best friend, had left the top comment. [Finally! I've been waiting forever for you two to go public. Wishing you a lifetime of happiness!] My mom, Diane Stone, had commented right beneath her. [You two look wonderful together. Take good care of each other.] Mutual friends, relatives, and people from every corner of our lives had all chimed in with congratulations. Something inside me finally snapped. Everyone had known from the beginning. Everyone except me.

There is a running joke in Salbury. "If your husband is giving you trouble, just send him to Ian Rutherford. He's the only man who can watch his wife bring a different man home every night and still put up with it for the sake of their child." Whenever a group of married women gets together, someone always jokes, "I wish my useless husband had even half of Ian's patience." But they don't know that the man they see as the most patient and accommodating husband is done. I ask for a divorce, and I don't even want custody of our child. However, no one believes me, not even my wife, Celine Erwin.

After I became pregnant, my figure changed, and my face grew puffy. My fiancé began to treat me with a subtle, almost imperceptible sense of disdain. When the baby was five months along, it happened to be Valentine's Day. That day, he finally agreed to take our wedding photos, something I'd been hoping for. But just as we arrived at the bridal studio, his phone rang. "Mike, I just got back to the country. My friends are hosting a gathering, and everyone's bringing their boyfriends. Could you come and pretend to be mine?" It was a few short sentences, yet it completely altered the expression on his face. He turned abruptly, stepping out of the studio with a look of urgency. "Lucy's back. I have to go see her," he said. Hearing those words, a fire of rage ignited inside me, one I couldn't suppress. "For her? You're going to leave me here alone?" I demanded. "Do you even know how long I've been looking forward to today? It's Valentine's Day, and instead of staying with me, you're going to be with her?" His impatience flared visibly as I stood my ground. Without a word, his hand pushed me aside, and he strode out of the shop. "We can take wedding photos any day. I'm the only one Lucy has in this country. I have to go see her," he said. Then, gripping my wrist with alarming force, he shoved me, sending me sprawling to the floor. Without a backward glance, he got into his car and drove off. I felt a sudden, wet heat flowing from my lower abdomen. Pain surged through my stomach, sharp and unbearable, as my consciousness started to fade. A wave of despair and terror consumed me. Someone. Anyone. Please save my baby.

On his birthday, Eleanor Brook's childhood sweetheart asks her to grant his wish. He says that he wants to go to Norinia to see the aurora. Eleanor ignores the fact that I'm about to undergo tumor surgery and drains all the money from my bank account. She says that seeing the aurora is the first thing Joseph Miller has ever asked her to do, so she has to make it happen. "You're so rich. What's the harm in lending me some money? You're being so stingy." But after battling illness for two years, I've already burned through all my savings from my livestreaming days. The money she takes is the last one million dollars in my account.

Jenny posted a picture of me and her brother, who had an intellectual disability. The caption? "Finally, a happy ending!" The comments were all the same: "Is this your sister-in-law? She’s gorgeous!" I simply replied with a question mark, but Jenny ignored me and responded to someone else instead. "She's kinda my sister-in-law, yes!" It didn't take long for Steven to call me, his tone full of anger. "It was just a little edit, do you really have to blow things out of proportion?" Half an hour later, Jenny posted another photo of her sitting in Steven's luxury car, and even tagged me in it. "We may not be related by blood, but this big brother of mine has always been my rock!" Steven commented. "I'll always be here." I knew he was trying to get a rise on me on purpose to appease Jenny, but I didn't grace them with a reply this time. All I did was like the post and file for divorce.

At Port Calloway's biggest racetrack, a wager is underway. But it isn't on the horses. It's on a person. Everyone is betting on when I, Mallory Abernathy, the disgraced Ridgemont heiress who won't stop clinging to Alden Van Alstyne, will finally divorce him and get lost. They mock me and laugh, and every one of them is betting I won't leave. Alden raises an eyebrow. "Where's the fun in a bet with no suspense?" At that moment, I'm standing behind a pillar just thirty feet away, clutching my pregnancy test results. My heart keeps sinking. I call him. He answers, but he sounds thoroughly irritated. "You've called five times today to check up on me, Mallory. Don't you have any self-respect?" After he hangs up, he takes another call, and his face softens so much it leaves me dazed. "Why are you crying? I'm sending someone to get you right now. As long as I'm here, no one in Port Calloway can touch you." I stare at him, lost. The courage I've clung to for so long seems to burst all at once. I find the bartender nearby and hand him my debit card. "Place a bet for me. Put it on Mallory Abernathy getting divorced."

For the 101st time, my boyfriend, Carl Hopper, plays a prank on me by hiding my hearing aid. He tells me, "The same old rules apply. If you can't guess where I hid it, you'll have to go through the night without being able to hear anything as a punishment." That night, a fire breaks out in the apartment building. Carl knocks a few times on my room door and urges me to hurry downstairs, then turns right around and shields my best friend, Joanna Kingston, out of the apartment. By the time I wake up, choking on the thick smoke, I'm already trapped in the blazing fire. I lean out the window, shouting for help, and just so happen to spot Carl in the crowd. He has Joanna huddled in his arms as he gently comforts her. Neither of them even remembers that I'm still inside the building. Before I suffocate to death, I suddenly recall how I stubbornly insisted on transferring into the Music Department previously, all so I could be with Carl. At the time, a frowning Carl said to me, "Rebecca Jink, have you forgotten that you're deaf?" When I next open my eyes, I realize that I've gone back to that day in my second year of university, when I was applying to transfer departments. Out of anger, Carl has hidden away my hearing aid once more. Bowing my head, I cancel my application to transfer departments. Now that I've gotten a second chance at life, I refuse to be the target of their pranks again.

I used to be the most promising composer of my generation. But while I was working on my latest piece, my husband Charles Lambert's childhood friend destroyed everything I had. She slashed my face, stole my compositions, and set fire to my house—leaving me to burn alive alongside the kitten I'd just adopted. Then, as if my death were just a spark for her success, she posted my compositions online, claiming I'd plagiarized her. And people believed her. Everyone did. Strangers on the internet sneered and spat my name, and my own husband, Charles, chose to believe her over me. Even the International Musical Society rescinded my award and handed it to her without a second thought. My students, who once followed me loyally, were now fawning over her. I became the laughingstock of the entire internet—mocked, discredited, erased. It wasn't until a week later, when someone stumbled upon the charred remains of my lakeside studio, that they found what was left of me.

Every time my foster sister, Lindsay Hartley, and I disagreed, Carl Curran and my brother Mark Hartley would settle it with a vote. When Carl and I were choosing our future home, I wanted somewhere in the southern district, close to our parents. Lindsay wanted the busier northern district instead. Neither of us would budge, so we put it to a vote. Carl was the first to raise his hand. "You're being so narrow-minded. You don't understand anything about actually living your life. Go with Lindsay's pick." Mark patted my head. "Don't be so selfish. The north side is close to Lindsay's office, so she can come stay with us whenever she wants." Three to one. I was forced to give in again. Then came the renovations. I wanted the big south-facing room as the master bedroom, but Lindsay wanted to turn it into a walk-in closet instead. Carl stepped in. "Let's just vote on it, so you can't say we're playing favorites again." No surprise: Lindsay won again, unanimously. And the room left for me, the actual bride, was smaller than half the size of that closet. Looking back over the hundred-some votes we'd had. Carl had sided with me: zero times. Mark had sided with me: zero times. Watching the three of them huddled together, deep in discussion over how to decorate the closet, it suddenly hit me. The so-called votes were never anything but a convenient excuse for them to openly favor Lindsay. If that was the case, then I was done playing a game on a scale that would never tip in my favor.

After giving birth, Belinay Scotch suddenly stopped pretending and began openly sleeping with other men in our bedroom. When I caught her in the act, she showed no signs of remorse. Instead, she mocked me without a care in the world. “The baby’s already here. What can you possibly still use to threaten me now?” Our friends all turned to look at me, afraid that I would throw a fit like I used to. However, this time, I did not yell or make a scene. I simply picked up my daughter and walked out of the room with a calm expression. From that day on, I became the perfect husband she had always dreamed of. When paparazzi came knocking, I paid them off for her. When she had conflicts with her lovers, I helped her resolve them. Then, my daughter’s christening came around. Other men brazenly showed up to force me to leave. Belinay finally could not help but laugh. She joined in with the others to mock me. “How is my ‘good husband’ going to pretend to be gracious this time?” I did not get angry. Instead, I simply turned around and handed the baby to her. “Consider this child my repayment for saving my life back then.”

Thanks to the paparazzi sneakily taking a photo of Caitlin Randall in her swimwear, she's been rated as the most perfect woman in Lunbury for seven years in a row. Countless men who wish to bed her can line up to the moon and back. The thing is, everyone knows that Caitlin only favors me, the deaf man who stays by her side all the time. When I was 18, I blew out my eardrums when I was saving Caitlin from danger. Since then, I can no longer hear the sounds and voices coming from the external world. Whenever we're passionately entangled with each other in bed, Caitlin will always kiss my ears with red-rimmed eyes. But I can never hear what she tells me every time. That is, until the night of Caitlin's birthday, when she blindfolds me and tells me that she wants to play a game. That's when I can finally hear her voice. "Let's play something spicy, Terry." Caitlin ties me up and convinces me to drink some alcohol. When the lashing heat pooling in my gut threatens to break me down, I'm so close to telling the truth to Caitlin—that my hearing is restored. "Ms. Randall, the people and the tools are ready. Are you sure you want to do this to Mr. Boyer?" When I hear the robotic voice coming from Caitlin's earpiece, I freeze up immediately. But at that moment, she has already injected me with a dose of sedatives. "Be a good boy, Terry. Everything will still be fine when you're asleep."

The day Preston Guest and I were supposed to register our marriage, I arrived at the courthouse only to find him and my best friend, Mallory Vaughn, holding their newly issued marriage certificate. Mallory laughed as she draped an arm around his shoulders. "I lost a bet, so he had to marry me first. We'll get divorced in a month. It won't get in the way of you two being together." Preston slipped an arm around her waist and made me out to be the one who could not take a joke. But he had forgotten what he had said when my mother was rushed into the ICU, and I had begged him to lend me the money for her surgery. "As a businessman, I've always look at value and return on investment. What do I get out of lending you that kind of money? Besides, my money isn't for charity. Adults have to learn how to stand on their own." Yet he had no trouble wiring Mallory three million dollars in startup capital. "Go ahead and use it to get some experience. If you lose it, I'll take the hit." From hiking trips and vacations to marriage proposals and getting married, Preston made bet after bet for Mallory, and every single time, he left me behind. When I did not make a scene, Preston nodded in satisfaction. "That's more like it. Come on, let's grab dinner and celebrate." I pushed them away and handed Preston the breakup agreement I had already signed. "No, thanks. You taught me what independence means: no more spending your money, waiting for you to marry me, or needing you. "I wish you two a long and happy marriage."

My son just had surgery. I'm sitting by his bedside in the hospital when I come across a post online. "What's the worst thing you've ever done?" One anonymous comment stands out. "I used the upperclassman who funded me as a stepping stone. My sponsor was rich but clueless. After she paid for my entire college, I slept with her husband and got pregnant. "The craziest part? My son and her son were born on the same day, but my husband swapped the babies. Now, she treats my son like he's her whole world, working day and night to give him a better life. "But her own son lives with me, wearing hand-me-downs and eating leftovers. Today, my son had surgery. I was worried sick, so I slapped her son hard a few times. "Oh, and her family just got a three-million-dollar payout for relocation. My husband is going to the hospital later. He's going to use the excuse of buying a house near the schools to get the money. "Once we have the money, I'm buying a villa. Then I'll get my son back and kick her out!" The post includes a blurry photo of a boy begging on his knees. My breath catches because the charm on his wrist is the same lucky charm I gave my son the day he was born. Just then, my husband pushes open the door to the ward and walks in. "Honey, Sean's starting elementary school soon. Let's use that relocation money your mom received to buy a house near the schools."

Sophie Jordan and her boyfriend, Carter Jennings, had been in a long-distance relationship for four years while studying at different universities. During the semester break, Sophie took an eight-hour train ride to North Capital University to see Carter, but he was not around. The resident advisor looked her up and down with a smile. "Are you here for Carter Jennings? He isn't here for the semester break. He won't be back for a few days." Sophie's grip on her luggage tightened. "Is there some kind of mistake? He just told me that he's in his dorm." Sophie had texted Carter just minutes ago, and he told her he was tired and wanted to take a nap in his dormitory. "I have no reason to lie. Look, he wrote a note about it." The resident advisor showed her the note. "He left for Southern University to see his girlfriend. He always visits her during the holidays, rain or shine. "Carter Jennings loves his girlfriend a lot. Every guy in his dorm knows that! Look, his roommates are right there." His roommates were speaking about him. "Too bad Carter isn't around this long holiday. If he were here, we could’ve formed a team for that big competition!" "All he thinks about is his girlfriend. He's always with her during the holidays." "It takes five hours to travel to Southern University from here, but he doesn't find it tiring at all. When I asked him why his girlfriend doesn't come here to visit him instead, he said he didn't want to exhaust her with all the travelling. Dang, he must really love her!" The boys laughed as they walked past Sophie, and she heard everything they said. Her grip tightened gradually on her luggage as her excitement turned to fear. Southern University? She was not studying there. Who had her boyfriend been meeting without fail every semester break?

On my wedding day, my fiancée's adopted younger brother, Jason Sanders, suddenly stood up to toast us as we were exchanging rings. "The first toast is for my sister. She gave herself to me last night so that I wouldn't feel insecure, making me her first man." After he said that, he kissed my fiancée, ignoring the strange looks from everyone. "The second toast is for my brother-in-law. Don't be fooled by my sister's usual aloof demeanor around you; she's actually very passionate in bed. Even though you're impotent, you've still struck gold." My fiancée, Wendy Sanders, covered his mouth in a hurry and tried to laugh it off. "He’s just rambling because he's drunk. Just ignore him." But Jason broke free from Wendy and looked at me challengingly. "The third toast is for everyone. Since Wendy is getting married today, I would like to personally put the ring on her finger. I'm sure no one has any objections, right?"