Cerita Pendek Scumbag Romance & Novel Cheating

Seven years into dating, Kirk came to pick me up from work in the pouring rain. I opened the door to the front passenger seat, finding the fabric soaked and a single strand of hair stuck to it. Kirk kept both hands on the wheel, not even glancing at me. “I dropped an intern from the project department off at home. She was drenched since she didn’t have an umbrella with her.” I sat on the damp seat, my heart sinking. “Kirk, you, of all people, should know I have anxiety about certain things.” “It’s just a seat. She’s younger and more interesting than you. Heck, she looks prettier even when she’s drenched. “I’ve been with her, and honestly, she’s a lot more fun. “I’ll still propose to you, but you need to stay oblivious for us to carry on.” The rain battered the windows, yet it was the tension inside the car that left me struggling to breathe.

On the last trip before Zeke Malone and I were set to register our marriage, someone clamped a hand over my mouth and dragged me into the bushes to assault me. Zeke and my sister, Crystal Bianco, arrived just in time to "save" me. That was when I heard Zeke switch to French and ask her, "Did you get enough footage just now?" "Yeah," Crystal answered back in French. "But isn't this unfair to Lizzie?" Zeke's voice turned grave. "The man was only acting. He never actually went through with it. We just needed the footage. As long as I don't hold it against her, that's all that matters. "Besides, you could win a Pulitzer for breaking this story. That's what actually matters here." I lay in his arms, a chill spreading through every inch of me. Certain I must have misheard, I couldn't help but ask, "What were you two just saying?" Zeke wiped the tears from the corners of my eyes, his voice as gentle as ever. "We were talking about your case, about what happened to you. It might be best to let Crystal be the one to report it. That way, the man responsible will pay for what he did." He assumed I couldn't understand a word of it, so he went right on discussing with Crystal how to get the story more attention. What he didn't know was that I'd spent the past year secretly teaching myself French, just so I could belong in their world. I never imagined that the first time I finally understood them, it would be to discover that they had both betrayed me.

Three years into our marriage, my husband, Colin Richardson, changed the username he'd used for six years. It became "AThousandAnswers." I asked him why. Colin ruffled my hair and smiled. "Doesn't your name have 'Ann' in it, silly?" I laughed. I even took a screenshot and posted it on social media with the caption: "My hopelessly unromantic husband just surprised me with the sweetest gesture." Then last weekend, I drove his car to pick up my mom. When I connected my phone to the bluetooth, another paired device popped up: "LoveHasAThousandKnots." Love Has a Thousand Knots. A Thousand Answers. My hand slipped off the steering wheel. That night, while he was in the shower, I opened the short-video app on his phone. Pinned to the top of his following list was a girl with a ponytail. Her username was "LoveHasAThousandKnots." Her latest post read: "He really is the most clueless guy. He has no idea how to pick lipstick shades, so he just buys everything." The photo showed a man's hands cradling an armful of lipsticks. On his ring finger was the wedding band I'd hunted through three different boutiques to find. I zoomed in on the photo. Then zoomed in again. Over and over, I compared the lipstick and the ring. Without saying a word, I deleted every happy post I'd ever shared about us.

The day before our wedding, my fiance, Brandon Foster, and his girl bestie pulled out their wedding certificate at the casino. Brandon shrugged as he said, "It's just a joke—we'll be divorced tomorrow, and everyone knows that Wanda and I are strictly platonic." Wanda Stiles, however, was smiling provokingly. "Come on—they say marriage is sacred, so you guys can quit gawking already and hand us our wedding presents!" Everyone around the table laughed, with someone saying, "Alright! I own a business in the West End, and you can have it for your wedding… if you beat me at the dice game. Table rules." I didn't argue and merely sat at the table, smiling faintly as I met Brandon's frown. "The dice roll decides the wedding gift, no? I'll play too."

My husband, Lawrence Schwartz, and I were both liars. He lied to me, saying he would forget his first love, yet his phone is filled with photos of her. I lied to him, saying I would never leave, while secretly planning a future without him. A month ago, I tricked Lawrence into signing the divorce papers. Today was the final day to complete the entire divorce process.. Three hours left. I packed all my luggage and bought a plane ticket for the next day. Two hours left. I cut up every photo of us together, leaving only myself in the album. Last hour. I thought about leaving a message, then decided against it. Today marked the tenth year I had loved him and the first day I left him.

On the day of my abortion, my best friend tried to stop me. "You and your husband have been married for seven years. You finally managed to get pregnant. Why does the baby have to go?" I answered calmly, "Because of a glass of water." Aaron Jefferson had a severe germphobia. He never shared everyday items with me. If I had already drunk from a glass, he would not touch it. Then I found a video on his student's social media. In it, the girl held up her half-finished coffee and brought it to his lips. Aaron leaned down and took a sip straight from her hand as if it were the most natural thing in the world. He frowned slightly, but a smile still touched his lips. "That sweet, huh? Careful, or your teeth will start hurting again." That night, I sat alone in the living room and watched the video hundreds of times. When Aaron woke up, I poured myself a glass of water and took a sip in front of him. Then I held it out to him. "Drink up." He stared at me as if I had lost my mind. "Tessa, I don't drink after other people." Seven years of marriage, and to him, I was still just one of those other people. I pulled myself back to the present and walked into the operating room. Then I lay quietly on the table. Outside the window, cicadas sang at the height of summer, and the sun blazed overhead. Suddenly, I no longer wanted to hold on to Aaron or that glass of water.

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.

After her boyfriend bailed on their wedding, my best friend broke down crying and begged my fiance to step in and save the day. Blake Keller comforted me gently. "Dawn, Noelle and I grew up together. We've been close for years—closer than family, honestly. Today is just for show. Besides, our wedding's next week anyway, so think of it as a rehearsal in advance." I felt terrible for my best friend. After struggling with myself for a long time, I finally gritted my teeth and nodded. Just like that, I watched with my own eyes as my boyfriend, who was supposed to be the best man, became my best friend's "groom." At the wedding, Blake held Noelle's hand, his eyes filled with affection. When the officiant asked whether he was willing, he answered even more firmly than he had when he proposed to me. I kept telling myself not to take it seriously, that it was just an act and I should not overthink it. That was what I believed—until after they exchanged rings. The officiant smiled and said, "You may now kiss the bride." The crowd instantly started cheering, urging them to kiss. Blushing, Noelle hurriedly reassured me. "Dawn, don't worry. We'll fake it with the camera angle." I believed her. But in the very next second, Blake lifted her chin and deeply kissed her for real in front of everyone.

At an alumni gathering, our former class representative, Ryan Fletcher, suggests we play "I've Got Something You Don't". Madeline Rothsford, the class belle back in the day, lowers her gaze before shooting a quick glance at Theodore Crawford, who is picking the tomatoes off a pizza. Then, with reddened eyes, she says, "I once had someone crash my wedding and try to get me to run away with him. But I turned him down." The whole class erupts. "No wonder Theodore insisted on organizing this alumni gathering right after you got divorced! So this was all to rekindle an old flame!" Theodore looks up, but before he can say anything, his friends from another table call him over for a toast. Madeline picks up the slice of pizza Theodore has picked the tomatoes off and says wistfully, "He was heartbroken after I rejected him that day, but he still remembered to pick the tomatoes off my bruschetta because I'm allergic to tomatoes." Everyone lets out a collective sigh. Then, someone turns to me. "Natalie, weren't you Maddy's bridesmaid when she got married? Didn't you see the whole wedding-crashing scene?" I shake my head. Instead, I remember how, the day after our wedding, Theodore once shed a tear over a ring. Since he holds on so dearly to the past, and I've spent three years forcing myself into a marriage that is never truly mine, I suppose it is time for me to leave.

I've been secretly dating Liam Burnett, my brother Julian Elling's childhood friend, for five years. On my 23rd birthday, Julian suddenly tells me, "Liam rented out an entire restaurant. He's proposing to the woman he's been seeing for five years. Bring your boyfriend along. We're going to help him pull off the perfect proposal!" Liam promised me that once I turned 23, we'd finally stop hiding our relationship and he'd propose to me. So I get dressed up and head to the restaurant, convinced this is finally the night I've been waiting for. But when I arrive, Liam is already down on one knee in front of another woman, sliding a ring onto her finger. Everyone erupts in cheers and starts urging them to kiss. They're just about to when Liam spots me. Panic flashes across his face, and he quickly looks away. "What are you doing here?"

Everyone in Salt City knew that Michael, the city’s richest man, doted on his wife as if his life depended on it. As his wife, I was once the object of everyone’s envy. But when Rachel appeared, I realized for the first time that even the one who loved you the most did not have their heart set in stone. Afraid I would find out, he hid Rachel in a villa on the outskirts of Salt City and spoiled her beyond imagination, all in a place I could not see. Yet every time he was intimate with her, Michael would still warn her coldly, “If you ever let Evelyn find out about this, your good days will be over.” But she was never obedient. Relying on Michael’s favor, she surreptitiously flaunted herself before me every day. Her presence constantly reminded me that Michael was no longer the man who only had me in his heart. So, I chose to respect his decision and vanish from his sight.

When I stopped by the supermarket to pick out cookie gifts for our trip home, I took photos of three flavors and sent them to our group chat. [Which ones do you want? I'll get them all at once.] My best friend, Kendra Dougherty, replied: [Anything is fine. I'm good with whatever.] My boyfriend, Damon Compton, replied: [Then I'll get the same ones she wants.] In the end, I bought three boxes of salted caramel cookies. But when I finally carried the identical boxes home, he gave me a helpless look and exchanged an amused smile with Kendra. "When Kendra says she's fine with anything, she doesn't actually mean anything. Her dad likes salted caramel, her mom likes chocolate fudge, and Kendra's absolute favorite is white chocolate macadamia." "You should've gotten one box of each flavor." I looked at the three boxes of cookies on the table and said nothing. In the five years I'd been with Damon, he'd always understood what Kendra really meant better than I did. Whenever we went out to eat and asked whether she wanted to sit on the inside or outside, she'd always say, "Whatever." But Damon would wordlessly save her a seat farther inside. I always ended up sitting by the aisle. When we were planning our graduation trip and asked whether we should go to Belford or Silver Ridge, she said "Whatever" again. Before I'd even made up my mind, Damon had already booked the tickets and planned the itinerary for Silver Ridge, exactly where Kendra wanted to go. But when I was hospitalized with a perforated stomach ulcer, and he asked whether I needed him to stay with me, I sulked and said, "Whatever." That time, he took me at my word. Every time Kendra said "Whatever," Damon somehow managed to figure out the perfect answer. But not once had he ever understood what I really meant. So there was no need for me to go out of my way to tell him we were breaking up.

I drag my suitcase out of the airport and walk straight into a massive billboard. "Welcome back, Jennifer Palmer, the great love of Ivan Olsen's life." The entire Internet praises him for having waited faithfully for ten years. A star-struck reporter shoves a microphone in my face and asks, "Ms. Palmer, are you moved that Mr. Olsen has remained celibate for you all this time?" I blink in confusion at her question. "Who's Ivan?"

At a major press conference, my husband, Julian Winslow, is about to publicly introduce me as the love of his life when his young assistant suddenly walks onto the stage carrying a girl. "Go on, sweetheart. Daddy's calling for you." The room erupts. Reporters start firing questions about Julian's relationship with his assistant, but instead of correcting them, Julian simply takes the little girl into his arms and fastens the company's multimillion-dollar new necklace around her neck. "Yes," he says. "We have a daughter." As I stand silently in the crowd, the reporters turn their attention to me. "Ms. Aldridge, you've been with Mr. Winslow and the company for years. Surely you have something to say on such a special occasion?" I smile. Then I take the designs I spent an entire year perfecting and toss them straight into the assistant's hands. "You can have the designs too. Consider them my gift to your happy little family."

The night before the Fourth of July holiday, my husband gathered the entire company for what I thought would finally be our long-awaited public announcement. Instead, his clueless assistant burst into the room wearing a wedding dress. "Cameron, I'm here to marry you." He didn't turn her down. If anything, his eyes softened with unmistakable affection as he promoted her to vice president on the spot. The entire company erupted in cheers for their love story. When my coworkers noticed me standing frozen off to the side, one of them couldn't resist reminding me. "Stephanie, you've been with Mr. Cox for nine years. You can't let a moment this special pass without saying something!" I smiled, walked onto the stage, slipped off my wedding ring, and tossed it to Poppy Campbell. "What kind of wedding doesn't come with a ring? Here, take it."

The night I found out I was pregnant, my six-year-old pointed at a child influencer on his tablet and said, perfectly calm, "She's my little sister." I didn't know whether to laugh, so I flicked him on the forehead. The girl posted from Harborcrest, halfway across the country from us. Caleb had never so much as met her. "She's got millions of followers. Don't make things up. "You want a sister that badly? Should Mommy have one for you?" I watched him, nervous and hopeful at once, afraid I'd miss whatever crossed his face. Instead he pulled up one of her older posts, no expression on him at all. "The purse in this picture, that was from me. Dad says she's the only sister I'm getting, so I have to take care of her." My stomach dropped, and the smile set on my face. "Mom. Dad and I are tired of pretending." He put a hand on my belly and looked up at me with flat black eyes, nothing behind them. "I promised Dad I'd protect her. So you can't have another annoying baby. "You'll do what I say. Right?"

In the seventh year of Julia Fenner's marriage to Colonel Everett Warden, she carried her family papers to the housing office to buy a subsidized faculty apartment and was told the record in her hand was a forgery. How could that be possible? Certain the clerk had made a mistake, Julia politely asked her to check again. "My husband transferred my records after we married." The clerk checked the county and military-family registry again, her patience visibly thinning, and looked at Julia with something close to scorn. "There's no mistake. Everett Warden's lawful record lists two other people: his wife, Lydia Warden, and their son, Peter."

I had been with Graham Sterling for four years, yet plenty of people had ridden in the passenger seat of his car. His mother. His female cousin. His female coworker. His “good friend,” Vanessa Pierce. Everyone except me. Whenever I brought it up, he always gave me the same answer. “What’s the difference? You can sit in the back. It doesn’t matter.” I counted. He had told me “it doesn’t matter” seventy-six times. My birthday didn’t matter. My graduation didn’t matter. The fact that I wanted to sit beside him didn’t matter. Until yesterday, when Vanessa came home in someone else’s passenger seat. For the first time, Graham lost his temper with me. “Couldn’t you have come downstairs sooner? If I hadn’t been waiting for you, I wouldn’t have missed something this important. I was supposed to pick up Vanessa!” I stared at his reddened, anxious eyes. So he did understand what the passenger seat meant. It only became “unimportant” when it came to me. I placed his car keys on the coffee table. “Then I won’t sit there anymore. “Front seat or back seat. I’m done with both.”

For the national championship final, I took time off work and flew halfway across the country to surprise my boyfriend. I'd barely settled into my seat when the girl beside me started gushing to her friend. "See his tie? I picked it out for him last night. Good taste, right? He even said I was the inspiration behind his entire Human Emotion Thesis for this tournament." Her friend gave her a knowing smile. "You actually landed Lucien Grant, the debate star. You should be thrilled." I froze. My boyfriend's name was Lucien Grant too. And the Human Emotion Thesis she claimed to have inspired? It had been born from seven years of pillow talk between Lucien and me.

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."