เรื่องสั้นแนว Feel-Good Story และนิยาย Scumbag Cheating

At a party hosted at our house, my husband sang a soul-stirring rendition of “Missing You Tonight". He poured his heart into it, his eyes misty and his voice raspy with emotion. I secretly recorded a video and posted it online. To my surprise, the video blew up. Hundreds of thousands of likes poured in, with the comment section overflowing with sympathy. Laughing, I handed my phone to my husband. “Jacob, you went viral.” The top-voted comment read: [Girl, I’m not one to stir up drama, but your husband looks like he’s nursing a broken heart.] I thought he’d just laugh it off with a half-hearted smile. Instead, he took the phone and looked me straight in the eye with dead seriousness. “You’re right, I am heartbroken. I fell for a younger girl, but she refuses to be my lover and is trying to break up with me.” The room fell silent. I didn’t cry or make a scene. I just took my phone back and spoke in a flat, even tone. “That works out then. Let’s get a divorce. The young guy I’ve been seeing on the side has been throwing a fit, too, demanding I make things official with him.”

My cheating husband, Steve Manson, gets hit by a car and suffers brain damage. After the accident, he can only say two words—"Yes" and "No". He can't say anything else. And somehow, every answer he gives has to be the truth. For once, it feels like heaven is finally on my side. I ask, "Is the woman you're having an affair with my best friend?" His face turns pale, but his mouth moves against his will. "Yes." "Did you transfer assets behind my back?" "Yes." "Is your bank account password your first love's birthday?" "Yes." Thanks to this bizarre ability of his, I successfully send the mistress to prison and walk away with all of his assets. Yet, he can't even curse me out no matter how much he wants it. Then one day, a handsome food delivery guy flirts with me. I turn to look at Steve, who stands there with the same dull expression as always. "Are you really my husband? Why aren't you even jealous?" Without hesitation, he blurts out, "No." I freeze instantly and stare into his eyes. After a long silence, I finally ask, "Then is my husband... dead?" He answers, "Yes and no."

My best friend, Patrick Morris, always pops my fiancee's cherry before my wedding in order to ensure that I have an amazing wedding night with her. Every time, he will record them going at it before sending it to me. "I've taught your fiancee 1000 positions in bed. You're really lucky to be with her on your wedding night!" After Patrick has snatched 99 fiancees from me, I suffer from a mental breakdown. Then, I sell my apartment and leave the city. Finally, I get to meet my true love, Ariel Booker. But on my wedding day, Patrick shows up in front of me, disguised as a makeup artist. "Caleb, you can get married once I'm done grooming your fiancee for you!" After that, he drugs me before climbing into Ariel's bed. Thank goodness I'm able to wake up on time and rush into the bedroom with a group of people flocking behind me. Later on, I have Patrick locked up behind bars. But Ariel decides to run over my legs with her car, effectively crushing them. When I'm stuck in bed as a cripple, she throws my mom, who's severely ill, into a meat grinder. "I'm free to give my virginity to whoever I want. Why the hell are you meddling with my business? Since you're the reason behind Patrick's imprisonment and suicide, you and your mom should pay the price with your lives!" When I open my eyes, I've returned to the day of my wedding. At the moment, Patrick is dressed as a makeup artist while stamping my face with a meat-grading stamp.

On the day of my wedding, I accidentally oversleep by six hours. By the time I rush to the venue, my fiance, Jared Marshall, has already gone through the entire ceremony with his first love. He looks at my sweat-drenched face and just smiles and comes clean. "I'm the one who drugged you. Amber wanted a wedding, and it's no big deal, so I gave her one." As if worried I might cause a scene, he adds casually, "Be good, and I'll take you to get our marriage license next week. Besides, making a fuss now won't change anything. "Look, the wedding dress isn't even your size." My gaze settles calmly on the bride, who is wearing the gown I've spent nearly half a year choosing. Everyone holds their breath, expecting me to lose it. But I actually feel nothing but relief. He should've just said so sooner. I've been regretting this engagement for a while now. My ex has proposed with a 10-carat diamond ring, and now I don't have to return it.

My best friend, Mia Collinson, was complaining to me yet again about how rough and relentless her fiancé was in bed. I half-listened, absentmindedly wiping down the custom Browning pistol my husband, Darien Allerton, had recently given me. A few years back, as the ruthless head of the Allerton family, Darien had been ambushed by a rival crew during a shootout. They'd injected him with a hallucinogenic aphrodisiac, leaving him with psychological trauma that made him incapable of being intimate with women. Still, for the past five years, he had treated me like a queen. He gave me Sicilian estates, garages packed with bulletproof supercars, and rare pink diamonds paid for in blood. Even when an ocean separated us, he would fight through the jet lag and the brutality of his daily life to show up at my safe house in the middle of the night, holding me tight while he slept. I thought it was proof of his unwavering devotion in our chaotic world. Up until the day of Mia's massive mafia wedding. I'd brought her a ten-carat blue diamond as a gift, hoping to surprise her. But the second I pushed open the door to the church dressing room, my smile vanished. The man inside wasn't the groom. It was Darien.

Everyone in New York knew that Don Lorenzo Capone loved his wife dearly. At the height of our love, he shielded me from a bullet that went straight through his chest. The hospital issued eleven critical condition notices. I cried myself hoarse at the door of the emergency room. "Lorenzo, don't you dare die on me, or I'll instantly find a pretty boy to marry and have children with!" He survived the ordeal, and the first thing he did when he opened his eyes was to marry me. After the marriage, he ruled over New York's largest underground empire with an iron fist, but never allowed any woman to get close to him. On our third wedding anniversary, I went to his private dock to give him a surprise. There, I saw him holding a pair of twins, teaching them how to shoot. The man who could kill without batting an eye was looking at the children with eyes full of affection. The children's mother was Elena Tribbiani, the daughter of an arms dealer who was his equal. "Lorenzo, what if Vivian finds out?" Lorenzo dismissed it casually. "A fragile porcelain doll like her is only fit to be displayed in a glass case. Only a she-wolf like you is worthy of bearing my family's cubs." It turned out, what I thought was true love was merely a carefully-woven lie. I did not confront him. Instead, I sent a text message to an FBI special agent. "Agent Smith, I have a list of the arms deal you’re investigating."

The day our daughter got into a top college, my husband, Henry Kushner, handed her five $50 bills. "That's your monthly allowance." I stared at him. "She needs clothes. Makeup. How is $250 a month supposed to cover all that?" Henry frowned. "She's your daughter too. And when I was in college, $250 was more than enough." Ashley looked down at the cash, eyes red. My chest tightened. I turned away and pulled out my phone, ready to send her the money I'd secretly saved for a laptop. Then Henry's phone rang. He jumped up and headed straight for the balcony. The glass door didn't close all the way. His voice floated back inside—soft, warm, worried. "Anna, why would you borrow money from me? You don't have to. "Take the $30,000. Keep it. Don't worry about paying me back. You and Brandon shouldn't have to go without. If he wants to attend a summer program abroad, let him." Anna Currey. The woman Henry had never gotten over. And Brandon was her son. I walked back into the living room, numb. Ashley was on the floor, taping the broken handle of her old suitcase. Trying to save money. She kept her head down, too embarrassed to look at me. I walked over, snatched the beat-up suitcase away, and pulled her into my arms. Forget Henry's $250. We didn't need it. Once the semester started, I was getting a lawyer. And a divorce. Henry could keep his money.

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?"

My boyfriend of six years, Liam Sherman, proposes to his long-time crush, Vivi Johansen, on my birthday. With that, the passionate love between us is a thing of the past. I come to my senses and distance myself from him, choosing to put our relationship behind us. As such, I decided to go along with the arranged marriage my family has planned.

My husband, Cosmo Smith, is a pilot and has to work overtime on New Year's Eve. I sneak onto the flight he is piloting with our daughter, Korra Smith, to surprise him. "Mommy, can I watch Daddy work?" Korra asks excitedly as she hugs her plushie in her business class seat. Before I can say a word, the woman in the seat next to us, Callista Pierce, chuckles. "Her dad's a pilot?" I nod. "What a coincidence! My husband's a pilot too, but he's one of the airline's top captains who was fast-tracked for promotion at a super young age!" I take in the pride on her face and smile. "My husband is pretty hardworking too. It took him a lot of effort to get where he is today." A moment later, Cosmo's deep, composed voice comes through the intercom. "Dear passengers, this is your captain speaking..." A warm current flows through my heart, but Callista abruptly leans over. "That captain's my husband. Doesn't he have a melodious voice?" My whole body goes rigid. Callista flashes the luxury watch on her wrist. "He told me he couldn't spend New Year's Eve with me, so he coaxed me for a long time last night and gave me this. He specifically asked me to accompany him on today's flight." My eyes lock on the watch. I recognize it at a glance. It's the promotion gift I gave Cosmo three years ago...

My mother-in-law and I were vacationing at our pack's resort. We had just arrived at the newly built Obsidian Peak hot springs and decided to hit the private healing pools on the top floor to relax. Out of nowhere, a glammed-up female covered her nose. She gagged like we reeked of rotting Rogues. "This pool is for high-ranking wolves only. How did trash like you sneak in? Ugh, I’ll need a Healer to scrub my skin raw after sharing this water." What a mood killer. I scoffed right back at her. "This is a public healing pool. Any pack member can use it. If you don't like it, leave." Her face twisted in pure disgust. "You dare talk to me like that? Do you know who I am? I’m your Alpha’s favorite. The future Luna of this pack! He’s marking me any day now. Get out, or my mate will tear you to shreds." Rowena and I exchanged a deadpan look. Ice cold. The Alpha of this territory was her biological son. And my fated mate. Since when did my Alpha get a new Luna?

After a wild month of partying across half the world, I unexpectedly found out that I was pregnant. I flew home overnight to surprise my husband, only to find a new nanny had moved into our house. Before I could say a word, she slapped me across the face. "What's a vixen like you doing here?" she snapped, fierce and full of herself. "Get out! This is my daughter's house! Out, out, out!" My hand froze halfway to dialing 911. I shot back instead, "Who's your daughter?" She settled onto the leather sofa I'd bought, crossed her legs smugly, and said, "My daughter is Paige Griffin, and her husband is Bradley Ford, Morlene City's hottest new rising star. Did you hear that clearly, or are your ears just for show?" My head started buzzing. I looked down at the wall-sized print of my wedding photo with Bradley and let out a bitter laugh. If her daughter was Bradley's wife, then who did that make me? Me, the proud daughter of Morlene City's richest man, had been reduced to being someone's mistress?

Eight months into my pregnancy, my husband finally makes time from his police duties to go to a prenatal checkup with me for the first time. The moment we step into the hospital, his satellite-encrypted phone buzzes urgently. The caller ID flashes briefly, and just like that, the man who's always calm and collected panics. "Honey, it's a red alert. Another international fugitive just crossed the border. I… I'm sorry…" He's clearly anxious, yet his tone is firm, leaving no room for argument. After apologizing, he rushes off. As I watch his SUV speed out of sight, my fist clenches tightly, crumpling the prenatal checkup sheet. I flag down a cab, slide into the car, and swiftly instruct the driver, "Follow that car. Don't lose it." A Red Notice for a fugitive? What a joke. My father, who works at the National Security Agency, barely catches wind of a notice like that. Yet, somehow, a mere police chief who only assists with cases is suddenly tasked with catching a high-priority criminal. Fine, then. I can't wait to meet the superior who's given him such an urgent assignment.

Before the day of my husband's succession as the Don, my stepsister personally tattooed the "Inverted Angel's Eye"—the mark of a traitor—onto my back. My husband didn't just turn a blind eye; when the family vendetta broke out, he withdrew all the elite guards to protect my "pregnant" stepsister, leaving me alone in a defenseless city to face the slaughter.  "Elena, you are strong enough to protect yourself. But Sophia is fragile, and she is carrying my firstborn. She needs the protection more than you." Facing a siege of heavy firepower, I survived by the skin of my teeth. He thought I would swallow the insult for the sake of the family's reputation. He didn't expect that I would kick open the doors of his coronation ceremony wearing mourning weeds, flanked by the FBI and the Commission, and personally strip him of his title. "Goodbye, Lorenzo. This time, I choose to be the Don."

When I arrived at my wedding in my bridal gown, I found an octagonal fighting ring set up in the center of the stage. My fiance, Derek Hale, was holding the hand of his "girl bro," Chloe Shaw. With a smile, he handed me a pair of boxing gloves and explained, "Vivian, this is a tradition from my hometown. The bride has to get into the ring and wrestle one of the groomsmen for good luck. I asked Chloe to go up. Just play along for a minute." Looking at Chloe, who was always acting frail and sickly, I did not think much of it and stepped straight into the ring. But the next second, she threw an extremely professional spinning kick and knocked me unconscious with a severe concussion on the spot. When I woke up, I was paralyzed in a hospital bed. Derek stood there holding Chloe's hand and said to me, "Our relatives and friends gave us so much wedding money. The wedding can't go on without a bride. Chloe is willing to take care of me in your place. You're so kind, Vivian. You won't mind, right?" Under the torture of humiliation and severe depression, I pushed my wheelchair off the rooftop of our wedding home. When I opened my eyes again, I was back one month before the wedding. I turned around and knocked on the door of a national-level kickboxing champion training base. "Coach, if I trained for a month, can I punch someone's head open?"

At her lavish engagement party, Charlotte Ashford learns that her fiancé Connor has been cheating for three years with Sophia, the sister she loved most. When their betrayal unearths old lies, stolen memories, and the truth behind her parents' final moments, Charlotte cuts them out, rebuilds her life, and leaves Connor to face the regret he thought she would never make him feel.

The first time I have an affair, it's with my wife, Josephine Yates' best friend, Lydia Bennett. When Josephine catches us red-handed in bed, I'm in the middle of enjoying myself, my cheeks insanely flushed. Josephine gets into a huge fight with Lydia afterward. Then, she proceeds to drink her sorrows away that night before choosing to forgive me. After we've patched things up, we grow even more lovey-dovey than when we first got married. In fact, we're known as the golden couple who are envied by all. That is, when Josephine catches me cheating on her again on our tenth year anniversary. This time, I'm sleeping with Victoria Fairfax, the senior whom Josephine admires and respects the most. Josephine is so furious that she almost suffers from a seizure on the spot. Having gone batshit crazy, she decides to commit joint suicide with Victoria. I can only sigh before pulling her into my arms. "This is my last time doing this. I promise that you're the only one I want to be with for the rest of my life." Josephine is in so much pain and agony that she's on the brink of despair. Still, she believes my words and treats me even better now. She showers me with lavish gifts, be it luxury watches, unique custom-fitted apparel, or limited-edition racing cars. As long as she can afford it, she'll strive to give me the best. Some people call me a freeloading husband. That night, Josephine makes sure that those people have vanished off the face of the earth. When I tell Josephine that I don't want children, she gets her tubes tied immediately. Everyone praises Josephine for being devoted. They also claim that I've married the right woman. I just smile and nod. "I've used up all of my luck to meet Josephine in my life." But on Josephine's 34th birthday, she spies a paternity test report on my desk. That's when she suffers from a complete mental breakdown. The child is mine, and yet she's never given birth before.

We're at a department dinner when Logan Gilroy tags me in the work group chat. We've been secretly dating for five years. "Everyone else already paid their share without me having to ask. Do I really have to chase you down for yours?" My best friend, Grace Hopkins, immediately posts a screenshot showing she's already paid. "Ashley, are you having money trouble or something? If you really can't afford your share, I can cover it for you." Within seconds, my coworkers start piling on. "I've never seen anyone so shameless. Mr. Gilroy actually had to call you out in the group chat just to get you to pay your share!" "If you can't afford to eat out, then don't come. She probably only showed up because she wanted an excuse to get close to Mr. Gilroy." "At least Grace knows what's appropriate. No wonder Mr. Gilroy always looks out for her." The boyfriend I've kept secret for five years is humiliating me in front of the entire department, and my best friend is right there backing him up. A new post pops up on my feed. Grace has posted a screenshot showing that Logan returned her payment. Her caption reads, "Dinner with him means I never have to split the bill." Logan likes the post almost immediately and comments, "You showed up, so there's no way I'm letting you pay." I swallow hard, my finger hovering over the screen for a long moment. Then Logan tags me in the work group chat again. "We're not close enough for me to be treating you to dinner, are we, Ms. Leith?" After a long moment, I open the shopping app and cancel the anniversary gift I ordered for him. Then I transfer him my share and post a screenshot in the group chat. Apparently, we're not that close after all. Our fifth anniversary hardly seems worth celebrating now.

I spent three years on a medical aid mission in Afrikad. During that time, my husband and I could only video call twice a year. In our third year, I missed him so much that I secretly flew home, hoping to surprise him. The moment I opened the front door, I froze. A wedding portrait I had never seen before hung in the living room. In the photo were my husband and another woman. Then, I heard a burst of chatter. As I looked closer, I realized the plants in the house had started talking again. The pothos stretched its vines toward the living room. “She’s back! She’s back! That woman is wearing the doctor’s pajamas again!” The spider plant snickered, “She claimed they were a gift from her best friend last week. That old hag comes up with a new story every few days.” The cactus grumbled, “Quit arguing. She’s bringing that other man over for dinner today. How do you think she’ll explain this to her husband this time?” The pothos replied, “She’ll probably call him her cousin. That’s what she said last time.” Just then, a woman walked out carrying a child. She was startled for a moment when she saw me. “Who are you?” I gave her a faint smile. “I'm Justin's mother.”

Six years ago, when the Berlandi family accused Nico Valenti of leaking their financial records, I found the evidence that proved him innocent. When they still refused to take him back, I mortgaged my mother's restaurant and put everything I owned on the line for him. With my backing, Nico eventually became the person in charge of Saint Vito Port. He promised that at this year's council meeting, he would openly introduce me as his wife. But that night, I was stranded at Blackwater Docks. I called Nico for help twelve times. He never came. Instead, he was at the council giving my pin to my best friend, Bianca Rossi, and letting her take my seat as his wife. When Bianca finally answered my call, she smiled and turned the camera toward the crowded hall. "Alessia, you're good at handling things. I'm sure you'll figure it out." Then Nico accused me of being petty. "It's her first time at the council. Do you have to embarrass her in front of everyone?" I looked at the seven fresh stitches in my palm and laughed. Nico had built his career with my help. Bianca was enjoying a status she'd gotten through me. Yet somehow, I was still the one expected to step aside just because I could "handle it." I didn't argue. I called the registrar. "Strip them of everything tied to my name. Effective immediately." If Nico and Bianca truly believed they had gotten this far without me, it was time for me to take back everything I'd given them.