Cerita Pendek Mistress Romance & Novel Regret

I had just returned from a business trip. The moment I stepped through the door, I scooped my wife into my arms and rushed her straight to the bathroom for a steamy shower together. We were kissing passionately when, out of the corner of my eye, I noticed something: the toilet seat was flipped up. I froze. Seven years ago, my wife had read a post online claiming that when men pee standing up, bacteria splash onto the seat. She begged me to sit down to pee for the sake of her health. I have kept that promise. For seven years of marriage, that seat has never been up. A knot formed in my stomach, but the bathroom was spotless, so clean it looked staged, not a single stray hair anywhere. Then I noticed the shower temperature. It was set five degrees lower than her usual 43°C. Men like cooler showers. Women like them hotter… At that moment, I knew, Ruby Lynch had cheated on me.

Inside the tattoo studio, Seth Jones let his fingertips trace the dip of Rita Searle's waist and move slowly up her spine. With a soft rustle, her dress slipped to her ankles. He stood over her, taking in the blood-red rose inked across her chest. They had been married for three years, and this was the anniversary gift he'd be giving her—999 roses tattooed into her skin. A broken sob scraped up Rita's throat. "Seth, it hurts… Please, stop…" Her tears splashed onto the back of his hand, but he only pressed the needle deeper, dragging it along until angry red welts marked her body. "Victor wanted those damn roses so he could give them to another woman, and that led to Tara falling off that cliff and ending up in a vegetative state. I'm just giving him what he wanted. You should be grateful." Lying on the cold tattoo table, Rita felt the chill spreading through her. Her eyes stung, weighed down by grief churning behind them. "Isn't it enough? You bought out Searle Group, you hung Victor over a cliff, and left him for the vultures. What else do you want from us?" Seth grabbed her by the throat and forced her chin up. "And isn't Tara innocent in all this? Rita, you and Victor destroyed her life. Don't you owe her for that?"

I went through surgery at the hospital 99 times because of my boyfriend's fetish. He promised to marry me after the 100th round. I was filled with joy when the final procedure was finished. This was our 100th round of intimacy, and I wanted to give Chad Simmons an unforgettable night. I quietly pushed open the doors of our villa. I heard laughter coming from inside the house and my name being mentioned. It made me pause in my step. "You've got the most high-end social butterfly of the upper social circle wrapped around your little finger, Chad. She's really stupid enough to believe that you'll marry her. "Will she go mad when she finds out that she isn't your bride half a month from now? Will she get her old lovers to destroy your company?" Chad took a puff of his cigarette and said with a smile, "She would never dare to do something like that. I have videos of her sleeping with 99 men. If she does anything to me, I'll post those videos online and make her famous." "You're incredible, Chad! She probably has no idea that she slept with a bunch of old men instead of you!" Everyone started heaping praises on how impressive Chad was. I was stunned. No wonder Chad fed me a glass of milk every time before we slept together. It was to keep me from resisting. I tore up my surgery report and turned to leave. Since I was not his bride, I would make his wishes come true and marry someone else.

Three years ago, I suffered severe complications during childbirth and lost our baby, leaving my husband crying outside the delivery room. For three years, Carter Reynolds doted on me with boundless devotion. Yet the progress bar for my Childbearing System remained stuck at 99 percent, leading me to believe I would never complete my mission. On the third anniversary of our baby's death, I went to the cemetery and later decided on a whim to take a walk along the beach to clear my head. That was when a little boy suddenly ran right into my legs. "Hey buddy, where are your parents?" I asked softly. He scrambled up, shoved my hand away, and took off running. I followed him, but the moment I saw the scene ahead, the blood in my veins ran stone cold. In the shade of a palm tree, Carter lounged on a sunbed, smiling warmly as he caught the little boy who threw himself into his arms. "Daddy!" And the woman the little boy giggled at and called "Mommy" was my best friend. Beside her, my parents were entertaining the child with coconut water. "Come here, Leo. Let me hold you," said my mother. My dad took a sip of coconut water and let out a sigh. "Audrey must have gone to the cemetery again today. Ah, if she only knew that Leo is actually..." "Dad!" Carter interrupted, quickly clapping his hands over Leo's ears. "Audrey owes Vanessa this child." I dug my fingernails into my palms, blinking in disbelief. Suddenly, the cold, mechanical voice of the system resounded in my mind for the first time in years. "Detection confirmed: this is indeed the child you gave birth to three years ago. Your mission is complete. Would you like to exit this world?"

Andy Bennett had been my husband for ten years. And yeah, we were stupid in love. Lately, though, he'd gotten weirdly obsessed with some game on his phone. Every night, it buzzed nonstop. "It's new. The vibration setting is insanely relaxing." I bought it. I even got him blue-light glasses and wrist supports because he worked crazy hours and was always stressed. If a game helped him chill, fine by me. Then one night, he left his phone on the counter while he showered. It buzzed again. The screen lit up. No game. It was an app for a sex toy. A giant control wheel sat in the middle. [Remote Control] [Couple Mode] [Synchronized Vibration] Then a request popped up. [Invited by: Eunice Seaton.] My daughter's piano teacher.

I have a terrible sense of direction. Despite having lived in Gaturnia for five years, I'm still unable to find my way around. Winona Sinclair is always helping me set up my navigation beforehand and vows to lead the way for me for the rest of our lives. On the day of our wedding ceremony, we are going up Mt. Harlow when she suddenly says that she left the rings in the trunk of the car. I'm barely a step out of the car when the lock engages with a click. Then, I notice the driver glance at Winona through the rearview mirror, as though he received the orders ahead of time. In the next second, the car speeds into the thick fog, swiftly vanishing from my sight. Subsequently, Winona sends me a voice message. "Go 999 steps forward, and you'll arrive at a fork in the road. George says that you won't even be able to find the wedding venue without me with you, but I don't believe that. Simon, don't make me lose this bet." George Yangley is Winona's ex-boyfriend. I had a new pair of leather shoes custom-made for this occasion, so they chafe at my feet as I walk. By the time I reach two thousand steps, I realize that I'm completely lost. Only then do I call Winona's phone. However, it's George who answers it. "You know how directionally challenged he is, yet you still had him walk here himself. What are you going to do if he ends up wandering the mountain for hours and can't make it in time for the wedding?" Winona replies casually, "Then we start the ceremony first, and you can stand in for him for the photos and toasts. He's bound to find his way here eventually." Just then, a photo pops up in the group chat we set up for the wedding. George is standing beside Winona, carrying the box holding our rings in his hands—the box she lied to me about being in the trunk of the car. As it turns out, those 999 steps are simply paving the way for him. Taking off my leather shoes, I toss them over the side of the mountain. It is time for me to change directions on this path I'm walking.

On the day I successfully conceived through IVF, my CEO boyfriend—the sole heir to a nine-generation business empire—finally agreed to marry me. Yet, after a flight of more than ten hours, I landed only to be greeted by a public announcement of his marriage to his secretary, with journalists watching from every angle. The secretary eagerly showed off the marriage certificate, fresh off the press. "Don't worry, everyone. From now on, I'll personally supervise Mr. Lane for the rest of our lives." When the journalists spotted me, they all focused on me, hoping I'd cause a scene. However, I merely smiled and congratulated the couple. "You and Mr. Lane are perfect for each other, Ms. Quinn. I wish you both a long and happy marriage." Everyone was shocked. No one had expected such generosity from me—Harold's girlfriend of nine years. As I turned to leave, Harold darted over to defend himself with a scowl. "Leila worked day and night with me on this international project. She refused every bonus and only asked to experience the fairy-tale romance of marrying a CEO. We already agreed to divorce once the project is over. I'll make it up to you with an even bigger, better wedding." Then, his voice softened. "For the sake of our baby, don't cause trouble, okay?" With a bright smile, I slapped his hand away. "Who told you the baby's yours?"

By the fifth year Dylan Crewe dropped me on a remote island, I finally learned submission. He brought his sugar baby, a college student, along with a Doberman to pick me up. I sank to my knees, wiped the sand off his leather shoes with my sleeve, and bent my back as a step for them. “Your duty from here on out is to take care of Tammy Bates. She and the Doberman are your family now.” I complied with his demand with a smile. Dylan took over my family’s empire, pushed my parents to the depths of despair until they jumped to their deaths, while I was abandoned in the middle of nowhere to break me. He succeeded in his venture. Back in the familiar manor, I couldn’t recognize the place I once called home. My alarm clock rang at 4 o’clock every morning, as my day would start with a special diet for Dobie and its grooming session. At nine o’clock, I would lay out Tammy’s outfit for the day and be her literal punching bag at the gym. I would have the drinks and food ready for Tammy’s friends in the evening, as she kidded around with her friends about how she tamed the once proud, notoriously spoiled heiress of Hedgewood’s high society.

Three days before my wedding, my younger sister staged a scene—one where I supposedly abandoned her in the mountains. She claimed I locked her in a cabin, left her to be nearly assaulted, and that she barely escaped with her life. Furious, my fiancé dragged me up the mountain and locked me in that same cabin. He said, "Wendy, a woman as vicious as you won't learn her lesson without punishment. I already told you I'd marry you. Why go after Chloe? Since you're so desperate to climb your way up, you can stay here until the wedding day." I begged him, over and over, but my scorched throat could only force out hoarse, grating sounds. Three days later, Mickey O'Brien stood at the altar in his suit, waiting for me. What he got instead was my remains.

Seven years after registering our marriage, my husband Gaius and I finally decided to hold the romantic wedding ceremony we had missed back then. That day, I wore the wedding gown I had designed myself and walked toward him with hopeful eyes. Before I could deliver my carefully prepared vows, an incident interrupted the moment. Amid the stunned murmurs of the guests, Gaius dashed toward the woman who had fainted—again—at my wedding. His voice trembled with urgency, eyes burning red. "Call an ambulance! Now!" He didn't even look back as he left the wedding hall. When the wedding bell rang seven times, I calmly pulled off my veil. Facing the guests who had yet to disperse, I smiled and said, "As you can see, today marks the divorce ceremony between Gaius and me. Please, eat and drink to your heart's content. Don't let the trip go to waste!"

A week before our engagement, I finally learned that the man Madison Clarke had always secretly loved... was me. Overjoyed, I hurried to sign to her, wanting to tell her that I was LeoWinter—the gaming partner she'd been coupled with online. What I got in return was ridicule. "Charlie, how does a mute guy like you manage to pull so many tricks?" "LeoWinter already told me his account got stolen. He switched accounts ages ago. And you still want to pretend you're him?" It felt like a bucket of ice water had been dumped over my head. My entire body went rigid. She had forgotten that this game ID was permanently bound to the account. It was impossible for it to be stolen.

After my father died, the illegitimate daughter he had been raising abroad immediately returned to the country to fight me for the estate. Her name was Alma. I was his only legitimate child, and I even had a will on my side. However, I still failed to keep my rightful inheritance. My fiancé Wayne, who could command the entirety of North City with a flick of his wrist, insisted on helping Alma. He stood protectively in front of Alma’s wheelchair and asked me impatiently, “With the money I gave you, you could buy plenty of houses like that. Are you really so heartless? Why would you fight a disabled person over it?” I confronted him, my voice trembling with disbelief. “Fighting? That house is the only thing my mother left me.” In the end, Wayne helped Alma win the lawsuit. He looked at my red, swollen eyes with a trace of guilt and said, “Jocelyn, I’ll make it up to you in the future.” However, I knew then that there was no more future between us.

Before my surgery, my best friend asked me, "You and Vivian are practically married. Why do you suddenly want to break up?" I handed him my phone. "Because of one message." The chat stopped at noon. I'd sent Vivian a photo of my lunch and complained that the takeout was awful. Four hours later, she replied with one word: "Yeah." But on social media, I saw her like the lunch Miles had posted, with a comment underneath it that read, "Takeout isn't healthy. From now on I'll cook for you like I did today." Below that was a pile of little back-and-forth nothings between them, lively and endless. I stared at the post for a long time. Then I deleted the message sitting in our chat box: "What did you have for lunch?" I scrolled back through the rest of it. For seven years I'd told Vivian every tiny thing. Flowers. Grass. The stray cat downstairs. At first she talked back just as eagerly, and then her replies thinned out into "yeah" and "uh-huh." Because Miles had come home. Love comes with the desire to share. Everything she stopped telling me, she was telling someone else. "Aaron Shaw? They're ready for you." The nurse was calling. I looked out the window, then walked over. Vivian, the sunset is beautiful today. But I don't want to send you a picture of it anymore.

On the morning of my wedding, a man in a groom's suit showed up at my door. Before anyone could speak, he walked in and told my stylist to do his hair first. My groomsmen and I had no idea what was happening. When we asked who he was, he looked me up and down and smirked. "Meredith didn't tell you? I'm the groom today. You're not needed. You already got your name on the marriage certificate, right? Count your blessings and take the hint." I held it together and called Meredith Soames. Her voice on the other end was as gentle as ever, but it made my stomach turn. "I should've told you about Royce. But he was the one who was there for me when I had nothing. The marriage is yours. Your name's on the certificate. Just let him have the ceremony." That was when I realized that in the past five years, I had never truly seen her for what she was.

At the dinner celebrating our fifth wedding anniversary, I held the pregnancy test report in my pocket, planning to surprise my CEO husband. However, the moment the doors opened, I froze. A stunning woman stood there with her arm intimately linked through my husband's. She clung to Charles Lawrence with the ease and confidence of someone who clearly belonged at his side, carrying herself like the lady of the house. Neither Charles nor the guests found it strange. If anything, they seemed entertained. Someone even joked, "Mr. Lawrence and Ms. Cooper aren't just ideal partners at work. Their chemistry is something to admire as well. I've personally reserved the presidential suite at Jubilee City's finest resort for Mr. Lawrence tonight. You can be sure no one will disturb you." Fiona blushed and slipped shyly into Charles's arms. He lowered his head and kissed her hard. They fit together so naturally, so intimately, that the sight was unbearably glaring. My thoughts flashed back to the night before, when Charles had pressed me into the bed. In that moment, I had caught sight of a strange message sent by someone named Fiona: [Everyone in the company thinks we've slept together.] Charles had explained that Fiona was only his assistant, a forty-year-old woman, and that the message was nothing more than a punishment from a lost game, a foolish dare. That explanation had dissolved my suspicion and anger. Then, I finally saw the truth. I was the one who had lost everything. Inside my pocket, the pregnancy report was crushed into a tight ball. I forced the tears back, stepped away, and opened the invitation from the National Aerospace Research Institute on my phone. Without hesitation, I tapped Accept. Three days later, I would vanish completely from Charles's world.

While I'm off taking a mascot job at the mall just to make a quick buck, my wife, Marissa Osbourne, is accompanying her first love, Dominic Finch, on a shopping trip to buy him a suit. She even goes as far as to buy him five suits in one go just to show how generous she is. The thing is, those suits cost three months of my salary. When Marissa approaches me, she doesn't recognize me in the mascot suit. Instead, she starts jeering at me. "To think that a grown man is still dressed up as a mascot in a mall just to earn money! What a pathetic loser!" She doesn't know that I've given up on my inheritance of hundreds of millions of dollars' worth of assets. As I watch Marissa leave while tittering, I suddenly realize that the marriage that I've been maintaining for so many years is hollow all along.

In the fifth year after my death, Oliver Rypien, leader of the huge smuggling ring that has a notorious reputation domestically and internationally, finally gets arrested by the police. At the public trial court, Oliver can be seen wearing an inmate uniform, though his murderous look is etched on his scarred face. He even has the guts to hum a whimsical tune tauntingly, completely unrepentant. After hearing the prosecutor accusing him of killing 129 victims, Oliver suddenly snorts in laughter. "You're wrong. You're missing one more victim. The police officer named Victor Patton who came from the Customs Enforcement Unit? Yeah, he died at my hands as well." Everyone gasps in shock. A reporter is quick to rebuke Oliver. "Hang on, Victor is a mole working for your organization! After a bounty on him was posted, he had nowhere to run to, so he embezzled over hundreds of millions of dollars' worth of national assets before fleeing overseas! Even now, he's still living his life scotfree abroad!" Oliver shook his head before letting out a cold chuckle. "Victor was a stubborn one. Even though I crippled him, he still managed to kill five of my men. How is it possible for him to be our mole? "After crippling him, I threw him into the concrete foundation of Joy Bridge. If you don't believe me, go ahead and dig through the foundation." Suddenly, Oliver lowers his tone. His smile becomes more malicious. "Speaking of which, we did have a mole who worked with us to kill ten police officers. But now, he's successfully washed his hands off his crimes and became a certain someone's husband. "Why don't you take a guess as to who that brainless, idiotic woman is?" Three minutes later, my ex-wife, Gabriella Campbell, also known as the Chief Commissioner of Police in Gakoli, receives a phone call from the court outside the office of a well-known OBGYN department. "Chief Campbell, please come to the court immediately. The defendant has something crucial to tell you in person."

After I finished my kidney follow-up, I sent Vivian Marsh, my wife, a message. [My wound hurts after a whole day's worth of checkups.] She only sent a reply half an hour later. [What do you mean by that? Are you asking me to cover the cost of your follow-up?] I stared at the words and could not wrap my head around them for a long time. John Howard, Vivian's first love, had run off with all her savings when she was at her lowest and taken up with a wealthy woman. From that moment on, she hated men who spent women's money. In order to show that I was not a freeloader, we always split the bill over the course of our six-year relationship. We paid for our own food and covered the cost of our house by splitting it 50/50. I did not ask her to pay a single cent for all the follow-up fees after I injured my kidney saving her years ago. But in the next second, I saw John's Instagram post. In the screenshot, he showed a catalogue for a limited-edition racecar and tagged Vivian. [Pick a color you like. Do you want exclusive rights to the front passenger seat? Then, send me a cash gift—at least seven figures.] Underneath was Vivian's bank transfer record. It was a total of 3,000,000 dollars. She replied with a smiling emoji, [If you hadn't left six years ago, you wouldn't have needed to ask me for this bit of money.] So, it was not that she hated men asking her for money. She simply hated me spending her money. I put the follow-up report into my bag and sent a message to Peter Jackson, my lawyer. [Please draft a divorce agreement for me.] We'd been keeping score since our very first meal together. It was about time for me to settle the last bill too.

My mother-in-law got kidnapped, but my powerful husband, who ran both sides of the law, was too busy throwing a birthday bash for his old flame's dog. The kidnappers warned them they'd kill her if he didn't show up. I didn't beg him to act because, in my past life, I dragged him away from that party despite being eight months pregnant to save his mom. His old flame, who tagged along, got spotted by the kidnappers' lookout. They assaulted her and brutally killed her. Her body parts were left to be eaten by dogs. Furious, he gunned down the culprits and vanished for a month. When he returned, he never mentioned it. Then I gave birth to our son and was full of joy. But he threw me into the woods, weak and defenseless. Wild animals tore me apart, leaving nothing behind. "You were jealous of Alicia and had the kidnappers kill her?" he accused. "You don't deserve her happiness." When I opened my eyes again, I was back to the day his mom got kidnapped.

My boyfriend Ethan Carter always had an excuse for Ava Taylor, his childhood sweetheart. She'd lost her parents when she was young, so according to him, I should cut her some slack. If she called in the middle of a date, he'd leave without a second thought and abandon me at the table. When he got his first paycheck, he spent every penny on a gift for her. He didn't even think of getting me anything. When a hurricane hit, he rushed to Ava's side and stayed with her for days. He didn't remember I existed until the danger was over. That was my breaking point. I told him to choose: her or me. He didn't take me seriously. He just laughed and leaned in to kiss me. "Jealous, baby? There's nothing between me and Ava. I only help her because I feel bad for her. You've always had everything. Can't you be a little more understanding? I promise it won't happen again! You're the only one I love!" We'd been together for five years, from college right up to our wedding. In the end, I gave him one more chance. A week later, I showed up for our wedding and found Ava standing at the altar in my wedding dress. "Baby, Ava has dreamed about having the perfect wedding ever since she was a kid. Just let her have this one."