Ruthless Regret Maiikling Kwento at Nobela

I have asthma, but Mom still forces me to take part in freshman orientation drills just to avoid accusations of favoritism. As I stand at attention in the 95-degree heat, my lips start turning blue. With no other choice, I raise a trembling hand. "Ms. Horton, I don't feel well—" Before I can finish, Roxanne Horton, the instructor leading our drills, coldly slaps my hand down. "Only half an hour in, and you're already faking sick to get out of training? And you have the nerve to lie to my face? Is this how your parents raised you?" Mom stands just a few feet away. As the dean of Hawthorne College, she immediately feels humiliated and turns to glare at me. "Everyone else is holding up just fine. You're the only one demanding special treatment," she snaps. "No daughter of mine would act like this. You'll stand here alone for another hour. Let's see how long you keep up this act." But I'm already struggling to breathe. My legs give way beneath me, and I collapse to the ground, clutching my throat as my face turns purplish-red. Before everything fades to black, I reach a trembling hand out toward Mom. "My inhaler… Help me…" But Mom's expression hardens. She turns away and lets my hand drop limply back into the dirt. "You've barely been standing for half an hour, and you're already pretending to have an asthma attack? Do you think I got to be dean by falling for every ridiculous lie?" She scoffs. "Get up right now. Stop embarrassing yourself!" When Roxanne realizes that I still haven't moved, she flies into a rage. She grabs the back of my collar and tries to haul me upright. By then, though, I'm already drifting upward, hovering above them. Looking down at Mom's cold, disappointed face, I twist the sweat-soaked hem of my shirt, overcome with shame. I'm sorry, Mom. I'll never be the daughter you can be proud of.

During the SAT exam, My sister and I both had an emergency at the same time. Overwhelmed by stress, I suffered a heart attack and was on the brink of death. Yet my mom, who was working as an invigilator that day, rushed to tend to my sister—who only had a stomach ache—without a second thought. I begged her to save me. But she kicked me away fiercely. “Can’t you pick the right time to put on a show for attention? If you ruin your sister’s grades, I’ll beat you to death, you beast!” Later, I failed to respond to resuscitation and died in the hospital. Mom collapsed overnight.

As the only daughter of the Hawthorne family, I entered an arranged marriage with Adrian, the heir to the vampire ancient clan. Adrian was attentive, gentle, and deeply devoted to me. Until that day. His childhood sweetheart, Elara, became pregnant after getting involved with a lower-class vampire and turned to him for help. To protect her baby from being rejected by the ruthless vampire families, Adrian publicly claimed that Elara’s baby was his. As for me and the child I was carrying, Adrian told us to wait. At least until Elara could give birth safely, he said, he couldn’t acknowledge me or our child. His parents accused me of infidelity, saying I had disgraced the vampire bloodline and dishonored the Hawthorne name. They forced me to terminate my pregnancy. Meanwhile, Adrian was on the other side of the world, caring for Elara. By the time he finally returned, I had already disappeared from his world.

To the outside world, Xavier Sullivan and I are a loving couple. In truth, my father sold me to him to repay the debt he owes the Sullivan family. When the five-year contract expires, Xavier's parents want me to extend it. They threaten me and tell me I'm heading for certain death if I refuse. I have no choice but to fake my death and leave everything behind, taking only the child in my belly with me.

My husband is a geologist. He took his soulmate, who was suffering from a terminal illness, to an active volcano, to fulfill her wishes. However, I was pushed into the lava when we were there. His soulmate then said, "Don't worry about me, just go and save her. I'm going to die soon anyway." I cried for help, "Please save me, I'm pregnant." However, my husband scolded me coldly, "A cancer patient has the right to live too. How can you be jealous of her and claim you are pregnant? Celine doesn't know anything, unlike you. You're an expert at this, you should know what to do. Just save yourself!"

My cousin, Kaylee Langford, pushes me down the ski slope when there's an avalanche. My boyfriend, Atlas Ferguson, lifts her into his arms and leaves. He seems to have forgotten that I'm buried underneath the snow mountain. He leaves me stranded at the valley for seven days. He's furious when he finds me. "You should be glad nothing went wrong with Kaylee's arms. Otherwise, the only way you could atone would be to die on this mountain! Our wedding is canceled—we'll have it once you realize what you did wrong." He thinks I'll cry or kick up a fuss, but I merely nod and say, "Okay." He doesn't know that I've made a deal with the Moon Goddess. In six days, I'll be giving up the things that mean most to me—my love for Atlas and my memories of him. Once that happens, I'll forget everything about him and start afresh somewhere new. What does a wedding matter when the Ember Sloane who loved him is now dead?

It had been six months since I died in a car accident, but my wife, Susan Young, still thought I was throwing a tantrum and waiting for me to come home and apologize. Then one day, she suddenly couldn’t find a watch. Her childhood friend, Julian Lane, gave it to her. When it broke, she asked me to take it to a watch repair shop. She called and said angrily, “Quentin, are you finished making a scene? If you don’t want to be with me anymore, we can get divorced. What are you trying to prove? “Where did you put the watch I asked you to get repaired? “Did you hide it from me? After all these years, you still haven’t stopped being jealous of Julian!” Then my sister’s voice came through the phone. “Congratulations, Susan. Quentin is dead. He’ll never be jealous of Julian again.”

My father, Daniel Jacobson, teams up with the elders in my family to launch the Family app. Every child's behavior is converted into points, and those points determine who inherits the family's wealth. As the least favored daughter in the family, I am one of the first people forced to use it. "You earn one point for greeting your parents. Massaging shoulders or washing feet gives you ten points. Handing over your entire paycheck gets you 1,000 points. This is my original digital system for measuring good behavior." If I dare complain even once, or if I rank last on the scoreboard, Dad humiliates me relentlessly in the family group chat. He even forces me to kneel and wash the feet of whoever has the highest score as an apology. He looks at my hands that are red and scalded from the hot water and sighs. Then, his expression turns resolute again as he says, "I know it hurts now, but this is for your own good. A rough diamond has to be cut and polished before it can sparkle. I'm helping to smooth away your rough edges so your future will be smoother. "The points system is my greatest achievement. It's the deepest expression of a father's love." Today is Independence Day. It's also our family's annual scoreboard finalizing day. Dad invites all our relatives over. In front of everyone, he plans to announce that I, the child who ranks last, will be disowned. He wants everyone to see what happens to anyone who dares challenge his authority. "I'm doing this for the good of our family. Without rules, there can be no order. And without a strict upbringing, you won't build up the perfect character. One day, you'll understand my good intentions." But, Dad... I have already ended my own life by overdosing on some medicine. Right now, my lifeless body lies cold in the room upstairs, waiting for you to uncover it with your own hands.

Ever since I was little, my dad taught me that no matter what happened, I should put my studies and exams as my top priority. When I was eight, I accidentally broke my leg during gym class, but my dad insisted that I finish that day’s class before taking me to get it treated. When the doctor said I was brought in too late and would have to be hospitalized, my dad looked troubled. “Third grade is a crucial transition period in elementary school. My child absolutely cannot waste any time right now!” So, I went to school in a wheelchair during the day and returned to my hospital room at night to finish my homework. When I was discharged, I was left with a lasting condition. Ever since then, I walked with a slight limp. When I was eleven, I ran a high fever of 102 degrees and started babbling incoherently. But my dad took forever to arrive. The teacher was so anxious that she took me to the hospital first, only to be berated by my dad when he finally showed up. “The transition from elementary to middle school is a critical moment for a child’s future. If my son, Teleus Costa, misses these three classes, just think how far behind the other kids he’ll fall!” Even though I had not fully recovered, my dad sent me back to school the very next day. From then on, I suffered from severe myocarditis. At seventeen, I developed a serious heart condition that put me at risk of sudden death at any moment. But my dad insisted I wait until after the SATs to seek treatment. “The SATs are the pivotal moment that determines your future. Missing even one class at such a time is tantamount to suicide!” One night during evening study hall, my heart seized up again, and I stumbled down the stairs. Lying in a pool of blood, I mustered my last ounce of strength to press the emergency contact button on my smartwatch to call for help. But on the other end, I heard my father’s voice. “There’s still one more session of evening study hall left. Can’t you just hang in there until it’s over?” ‘Dad, I’m sorry, but I don’t think I could make it,’ I thought.

I was diagnosed with stomach cancer, so I went online to hire an undertaker in the hopes that he would collect my body. That way, I could die and be buried. I would like to finally be at peace, even if it meant that I could only achieve it after death. I packed up my bags and left home in search of a place to die, only to receive a message from my undertaker. [Sorry, something came up. I can’t come now.] …Excuse me? I’m already half-dead, and you’re blowing me off?

I die in the basement after being burned by acid. My family doesn't recognize me, and they don't call the cops. My mother picks up the scalpel that hasn't been used in years and debones me. My father excitedly mixes my skeleton with concrete and turns me into an exquisite statue. My sister uses the sculpture she's made out of my flesh and portrays herself as a genius sculptor whom everyone admires. Later, the sculpture is shattered, revealing half a broken finger inside. That's when everyone panics.

Five years ago, my junior made a mistake in the experiment, resulting in an explosion in the lab. In an effort to save my childhood friend, Andrew, I suffered severe burns to one side of my face and was falsely accused as the culprit. Just like that, I became the target of everyone's anger. Only Andrew stood by me, promising, "I love you for who you are, not your appearance. I'll always be there to protect you." But on our wedding day, he vanished without a trace. My mother, suffering from heart disease and barely clinging to life, wanted to see Andrew. When I asked him to come, he replied impatiently, "Are you using such a lame excuse to meet me? Don't you have any shame? Every time I look at your face, I feel disgusting." I pleaded desperately, but he calmly hung up. "Do you think I'm your servant? You can't just summon me whenever you want. Just because you saved me once doesn't mean you can blackmail me for life." My mother died without peace. The junior who slandered me back then later posted a photo on social media, showing a man lifting her effortlessly. Their poses were intimate, highlighting the underlying affection. Her captions read: [It's all his fault for tiring me out during the day. I almost missed out on this beautiful ocean. When you're in love, all is clear to see. I mentioned wanting to go to Belmar Island, and he flew me around the world for it.] I was utterly heartbroken, so I texted him: [Let's break up…]

It was on our wedding night when my husband stole my heartblood to save his childhood sweetheart. His lips were on my forehead as his dagger carved my chest open. "Good girl. This is the last time, I promise," he breathed bewitchingly, his scalding tears dripping on my skin. "Once she's better, let's consummate our marriage." That was what he said, but I had heard it countless times before. In my despair, I used my last ounce of strength to tug on his sleeve. He urgently drained my blood to save another woman, not even looking my way as he did. What he didn't know was that it was my last drop of heartblood. And I was going to die.

"Whose illegitimate child are you pregnant with?" My parents demand to know, looking crazed. They want to know whose child I'm carrying. I look at them and laugh. "One of the kidnappers, of course." My parents and brother are stunned, and they turn ashen. I continue softly, "Don't you guys remember? The kidnappers asked for a ransom, but you guys were only willing to save your other daughter. You wanted to teach me a lesson." Mom collapses on the couch. "That can't be. We wanted to teach you a lesson so you would stop bullying Eden. I didn't… We didn't…" I crouch before her. "You guys never expected the kidnappers to violate me, right?" I don't wait for an answer. "Do you think a few kidnappers would have morals and ethics?" She parts her lips to speak, but I don't give her the chance. "I was covered in injuries when I got home. Why didn't any of you ask me about them? "You guys took Eden away without bothering to save me. You didn't return for a day, for two days, for a month… Did you think the kidnappers would think that they could still receive the ransom?" They should be happy now—I'm about to die.

Three years after my parents’ divorce, I ran into my sister while I was performing on the streets. She stepped down from a city management vehicle and froze for a moment when she realized the person working so hard to breathe fire was me. She walked toward me, her steps slightly uneasy. “You’re affecting public order. You’re coming with us.” After I finished giving my statement, my mother arrived too. She paid my fine for me, then handed me a bank card. “Stop embarrassing yourself out here. Take this money and find a school to attend again.” I did not move. When I finally spoke, my voice was hoarse and unpleasant. “Where were you when Dad and I needed you the most?” My harsh words made my sister frown. “Everyone had their own struggles back then. You don’t have to blame Mom for everything.” My mother’s expression darkened as she began lecturing me, “Why are you just as stubborn as your father? If you had come with me, would you have ended up begging on the streets? Tell your father that as long as he admits he was wrong, I’ll acknowledge you as my son again.” I looked at them, but the words were stuck in my throat. Did they really not know that my father had already died three years ago?

To temper my attitude, Frederick Burke throws me into the mountains. What he doesn't know is that this mountain lies deep within a high-radiation zone. Five months later, he finally shows up with a group of people to bring me back. However, my body is already starting to rot from the radiation. "Anastasia, if you hadn't pushed Colette down the stairs, I wouldn't have punished you like this. I wouldn't have left you to rot on this godforsaken mountain. Do you admit your mistake now?" I kneel on the ground and prostrate myself before Colette Reeves. Frederick freezes and instinctively reaches out to help me up. "Alright, there's no need for this…" I say nothing. I just quietly watch as he grabs my arm. Unbeknownst to him, my body is already soaked in radiation after months in this mountain. Anyone who touches me will slowly begin to rot, too...

My mom was a brilliant programmer. She created an app called "Shake for Allowance." After my brother and I downloaded it, she told us, "From now on, this is how you'll get your living expenses. On the first of every month, just shake your phone. Whatever number you get is the amount you'll receive. "The range is from zero to ten thousand dollars." At first, I was excited. Every month, I shook my phone with anticipation. However, every time, the result was the same: 0 dollars. My brother, meanwhile, always landed the highest amount. "Wow, sis, your luck really sucks," he said. Even when he showed me the transfer record for ten thousand dollars, there was a smug smile on his face. When I confronted Mom, she brushed it off, saying my luck was bad and that no one else was to blame. With no other choice, I worked three part-time jobs just to support myself while studying. On the night before my final exams, I collapsed from exhaustion and died. When I opened my eyes again, I had returned to the very day my mom created the "Shake for Allowance" app.

After the plane crash, my body was never recovered. My soul drifted back to the home I hadn't stepped foot in for five years. They didn't know I was dead. They were still waiting for me to come home for Christmas. When my mom got the call from the airline, she froze for a long time, completely at a loss, before breaking down in tears. I followed them as they went to the memorial crash site. That was when I noticed something strange—I could see their levels of regret hovering above their heads. My brother's regret level read: 40%. My father's showed: 60%. Even my sister-in-law had 30% over her head. But my mother's regret level? It flashed a cold, unchanging 0%.

"Mrs. Sterling, are you sure you're ready to end this marriage of twenty years and give up the custody?" "Yes. File it. I’m done." I said calmly through the phone as I scrubbed at a stubborn grease stain on the granite island. For twenty years, I poured my entire being into this family. I managed the households, handled the children's education , and stood by my husband's side, supporting his rise in the syndicate without complaint. But my husband Alexander brought his young adopted sister Chloe to the interview, saying, "My success today is all thanks to my adopted sister." Even my own children looked down on me, calling me common and crude housewife. They had formed an alliance with his ever-present "auntie," the woman who seemed to think she was the true lady of the house. I signed the divorce papers and walked away, leaving them to become the "perfect family" they clearly wanted. But that when the family panicked…

When my fiance's student argued with me, she knocked over a gas cylinder and caused an explosion. As the fire spread, my fiancé rushed into the lab wearing a gas mask. However, his priority was to carry his student to safety. As he left, he said, "Wait for the rescue team! A teacher should treat their students like how a parent treats their children. If something happens to Amanda, you don't deserve to be a teacher!" In the end, I inhaled too much toxic gas and died, never having waited long enough for the rescue team to arrive. Since I was the only one who had mastered the core data of the lab, no one could take my place. This meant that five years of hard work in the lab were destroyed, and Astran University was kicked out of a global research project. Later, William, the once esteemed professor of Astran University, became a pariah—someone whom everyone scorned and reviled.