Cerita Pendek Mistress Romance & Novel Workplace

Five days after I saved my girlfriend from an unhinged, violent patient, the wound on my arm tore open and got infected again. I wanted her to drive me to the hospital, but she spared me a glance before refusing, citing the need to avoid her being seen treating family. Left with no choice, I took a cab to the hospital by myself. Dizzy and weak from a burning fever, I lost my footing and tumbled down the stairs, injuring my foot in the fall. At that exact moment, my supposedly busy girlfriend, Stella Sloan, was gently supporting her young male intern and passing right by me to cut in line for emergency treatment. A nearby nurse quickly tried to smooth things over for her. “Dr. Sloan takes great care of all the new hires. Don’t worry, she’ll come and get you as soon as she’s done.” A bitter smile tugged at the corner of my mouth. She had registered me as a patient thirty-three times, yet my own girlfriend had never once picked up my medical chart. “Forget it. Don’t bother.” I stared up at the blinding glare of the fluorescent lights above. My ticket home was booked for two days from now, and my resignation letter had been approved. Stella, you and I are officially over.

At the space agency's awards ceremony, my husband gave the honor that should have been mine to his first love, who had just returned from overseas. He accused me of plagiarism and rescinded my promotion in front of everyone. Everyone thought I would argue and make a scene, but I simply smiled and personally placed my work badge around his first love's neck. "A new position calls for a celebration, doesn't it? Why not make it a wedding? I'd be happy to officiate." They didn't know that I was the only one capable of drawing the rocket's design blueprints. Even the resources keeping the project alive had been secured because of my reputation and connections. This time, I wanted to see whether she really was the brilliant overseas-trained expert they claimed she was—or merely a pretty face with nothing to back it up.

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.

For the first time ever since we got together, my boyfriend, Clarence Xenos, got angry with me because an eight-million-dollar company deal was ruined. In front of everyone, he belittled me and called me worthless. When we got home that night, he said in a cold corporate tone, “Work is work. There’s no ‘us’ in the office. You messed up, and that’s that.” An intern in our office, Naomi Smyth, texted me an apology. [Lucia, I’m so sorry. This was totally on me. But don’t worry, Clay got me a cupcake to cheer me up. It was actually pretty good. Do you want me to order one for you, too?] The next morning, Clarence habitually threw the breakfast I had prepared into the trash can. “How many times do I have to repeat myself? I don’t eat breakfast.” At work, my colleague, Zoey Thorpe, leaned in with a sly look and gossiped to me. “That new intern is so bold. She went up and talked to Mr. Xenos, and even bought him coffee and a sandwich. He not only ate them but also commented that they were delicious.” Whatever. I was beyond caring at that point. The person on my phone was still relentlessly trying to get me to be with him. [Look, if it doesn’t work out with him, I’m fine being the other guy. Just give me a chance, alright?] I pursed my lips and typed back. [There’s no need to be the other guy. You can just be my boyfriend.]

Mallory Spencer despises disorder and unnecessary trouble above all else. To eradicate such issues from her life, she sticks to a rigidly predetermined schedule. Gifts are purchased in bulk and sent out on the day of the recipient's birthday. Our date spots are always the same. If I want to pick a new restaurant, I have to submit a written request a month in advance. Even our intimate moments are governed by an alarm. "Living a stress-free life matters more than anything else. Let's not cause any trouble for the other," she says. We've been together for seven years now. All along, I've assumed she maintains the same attitude with everyone else. Then one day, we attend a gathering together. When the waiter serves us a plate of pomegranates, she takes one and carefully extracts the pomegranate seeds into a bowl, separating out the pith. Sitting beside her, I reach out for the bowl. She pauses, glances at me, and proceeds to set the bowl down in front of Hank Coleman, the man who used to be my biggest bully. During our days in high school, he used to tear up my books, pour glue on my chair, and lock me in the restroom after school. Even Mallory had once chewed him out for his behavior, saying he'd pay for it. But now, as she sits beside me, she hands him the bowl of pomegranate seeds she has prepared and says, "Dig in." I pull my hand back, feeling uninclined to stick around any longer. I also lose all desire to hold onto her.