Cerita Pendek Tragic Love & Novel Scumbag Marriage

"Your marriage is a $50 souvenir, Ms. Vance. And your husband's already married to someone else." In a single moment at the immigration office, my life as the wife of NHL superstar Liam Sterling evaporated. Our secret Vegas wedding was a fraud, and Liam was already legally married to his "manager," Sophia. But the cruelty didn't end there. Liam expected me to adopt a "war hero's orphan", a child that was actually his and Sophia's secret son. He didn't want a wife. He wanted a world-class doctor to fix his career and a free nanny to raise his real wife's child. Liam made one fatal mistake: he forgot that I'm the only one who can keep him on the ice. I signed a record-breaking contract with the Titans, his bitterest rivals. Now, while Liam's knee shatters during the playoffs, I'm on the enemy's bench, healing the only man who can destroy him. He want a nanny? I'm sure he'll get his worst nightmare.

While shopping at the mall, a child suddenly slams into my five-month pregnant belly. Blood immediately pools on the floor. With trembling hands, I call my boyfriend, Garrett Holloway, and beg him to come get me as quickly as possible. But even after I am rushed into surgery and finally pulled back from the brink, he never shows up. But through the glass, I see him helping another woman into the hospital for a prenatal checkup. "She only stumbled a little, and her husband got so worried. He brought her to the hospital right away. Some people are just luckier than others. Not everyone gets a man who cares for them so attentively." Listening to the nurses whisper among themselves, I tighten my grip on the miscarriage report in my hand. Then, I send a message to my family. I write, "Mom, I'll go with your arrangement. I'm not marrying Garrett anymore."

Chester Ford brings home a female university student for the 10th time during our 10th wedding anniversary banquet. He walks into the banquet hall with the young lady in his arms. "Don't you see that your outfit is clashing with hers, Yuna Sutherland? Take off your dress. Right here and now." He slowly loosens his tie while I take a step back in panic. He then proceeds to tug my pearl necklace from my neck. "What are you waiting for? Stop acting like you're innocent. Your father tossed your younger sister to Ford Group to be a kept woman back then. He also practically delivered you straight onto my bed, all for 30 million dollars. I'll never forget how he looked when he was begging on his knees." Everyone eagerly watches the drama unfold with champagne glasses in hand. I stare at the wedding ring on his ring finger, which is close to becoming tarnished. For the 10th time, I request a divorce. Chester sneers. "How original of you, Yuna. Yet, you eventually kneel and plead for forgiveness every time. If you leave the Ford family, who's going to pay to keep your sister alive in the ICU?"

I'd been in a secret relationship with Nathan for six years. He said we couldn't go public because of his career. So we always split the bill, and anniversary gifts never cost more than fifteen dollars. The night before our anniversary, I asked him for the sixth time when he'd come home with me to meet my family. He turned me down again. "Ivy, I just think things are moving a little fast. Marriage is a lifetime commitment, after all." So I went home alone, carrying the expensive cheese and wine he'd bought for my mom. I pushed open the door and found the living room trashed. My stepsister Chloe stood there with a smug grin on her face. "Mrs. Mercer, you owe my family a million dollars. You've been stalling long enough. Time to settle up, don't you think?" Years ago, my father had an affair, and Chloe's mother orchestrated the whole thing. My mom ended up saddled with a mountain of debt, and my father took the easy way out with a divorce. When I said nothing, Chloe scoffed, "What's wrong? Don't want to own up to it? "That's fine. My husband happens to be the best lawyer in the city. He's never lost a case. "This is his first year coming home with me for the holidays. Perfect time to show you what 'pay what you owe' really means." I crouched down to shield my mother, the words of protest dying on my lips. The next second, a familiar figure stepped out from behind Chloe. It was Nathan.

I brought Nolan Pierce home for dinner on holiday. Halfway through the meal, my sister suddenly suggested that Nolan and I adopt her son. Before I could refuse, Nolan gave a quiet hum of agreement. "Okay." He agreed, just like that. It caught me off guard because he had just told me he never wanted children just three days ago. It didn't matter how I begged and pleaded, as he still forced me to terminate my pregnancy. Now, he looked at my nephew and said, "He's my child. Of course, I should take responsibility." I stared at him, frozen in disbelief. I wondered how my nephew, Kayden, could possibly be Nolan's child. My sister had gotten pregnant by her broke ex-boyfriend and had run away before giving birth. When they saw the shock on my face, Nolan and my sister laughed at the same time. It was as if they were in on their own private joke, and perhaps they were. My sister shot me a scornful look. "How else do you think he could stand being with you? You were my replacement from the very beginning." Nolan wrapped an arm around my shoulders and spoke gently, as though he were comforting me. "Kayden is still related to you by blood, babe. Try to look on the bright side. You won't have to go through childbirth now." I felt my heart freeze right then and there. I had always known that Nolan had never forgotten about his first love. Yet, how could that same person be my sister? The same sister who bullied me since childhood and almost got me killed? My voice shook so badly I could barely force the words out. "Nolan, I want a divorce."

"You're my sister. I don't care if I'm drugged—this ain't it. You ain't my cure." Carlo Quaranta's eyes were shot red, chest heaving, but that rage? Way hotter than any craving. "Even if you make me marry you, I'll never love you." Vera Este didn't doubt it. Not for a second. He meant every damn word. Last time, she was the so-called "cure"... and it dragged her straight into marriage. She stared at his face—still young. Felt like it belonged to someone from a whole other life.

In the three years I spent unconscious in a hospital bed, Julius Carter took care of me day and night without complaint. The very first thing he did after I woke up was get down on one knee beside my hospital bed and propose. That night, while scrolling through social media, I came across a female influencer who looked strikingly similar to me. [Another date with my boyfriend today!] [He took me to an upscale restaurant for dinner and bought me the diamond ring I wanted. He's the sweetest!] The top comment read: [You're showing off so much. I bet you're just a sugar baby!] She fired back immediately with a reply. [Being a sugar baby takes skill, too. Looking like a pig won't get you that kind of treatment.] [My boyfriend is the heir to the Carter family. Another nonsense from you, and I'll have my lawyer sue you!] My breathing hitched. Since when did Julius Carter have a girlfriend? Rage overcame me, and I tapped on her profile, ready to send her a private message. That was when I noticed a post pinned to the top of her page. The photo showed a pair of long, elegant hands placing food onto someone's plate across the table, and on the back of that hand were two small moles. They were the exact same two moles Julius had.

Ophelia Hart had been married to Rowan Cabell for five years. He had been cheating on her for four and a half of those years. His list of mistresses could probably stretch all the way from Merion to Freeka, and the condoms he had gone through could practically wrap around the entire globe. However, Ophelia never made a scene. Whenever Rowan brought another woman to bed, she would quietly prepare a cup of warm water and a box of his favourite lemon-flavored condoms. When they were done, she would calmly arrange for the maid to clean the room. It was all because of the first rule in the Hart family’s code for women—'A husband’s infidelity is never an excuse for anger or confrontation. Never make a scene. Never raise your voice. His comfort must always come first. Violate this rule, and you will pay the price yourself.’ Ophelia had once paid that price for six months. Those six months were more than enough to make the lesson unforgettable. Hence, when Rowan wrapped his arms around Lydia Beaumont and passionately kissed her in front of everyone, then loudly announced that he was going to marry her, Ophelia merely reached into her bag. She pulled out a pack of strawberry chewing gum, offered it to them with both hands, and said sweetly, “Kissing feels better when you’re chewing gum.” Everyone burst into laughter and started cheering. They thought she had finally learned her lesson. However, they had it all wrong, because she was about to leave…

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.

The day I find out I'm pregnant, I also discover my husband is cheating on me. To think that Brock Emerson, a celebrated OB-GYN, is sleeping with his own protegee, Wendy Blair! I strip Wendy's clothes off in front of the entire hospital, humiliating her for everyone to see. After that, the staff group chat turns into a daily betting pool on whether I'll show up to cause another scene. When Brock pulls me off the balcony railing yet again, he drops to his knees. "I've already had Wendy transferred. What happened that day was just an accident. You're all I care about." I give Brock two choices—either he sends Wendy to prison, or he signs the divorce papers. He personally submits evidence of Wendy's medical malpractice and chooses to stay. From then on, every year on the anniversary, I visit Wendy in prison to ease my grief over losing my child. On one of those visits, as I sign the log on my way out, I overhear two janitors talking. "That poor woman still hasn't figured out it's not really Wendy in there. It's just some actress they hired as a look-alike." "Dr. Emerson was scared she'd lose it again and hurt Dr. Blair, so he paid to build a whole fake prison wing just to keep her fooled. He and Dr. Blair are the real thing." "I heard their baby turned one today, and the whole family's celebrating together. They couldn't be happier." My blood runs cold. I can't believe what I'm hearing. The whole time I think we're starting fresh, Brock already has another family.

The day I was diagnosed with late-stage stomach cancer, I curled up alone in the hospital hallway, trembling from the pain. I called Ethan Ford ninety-eight times. He rejected every single call. On the ninety-ninth try, he finally picked up. But instead of his voice, I heard Claire Leedon laughing. Then Ethan spoke, his voice cold and impatient. “Stop pretending you're dying. Claire's afraid of the dark. I can't leave her.” I opened his social media page. His latest post was a photo of them kissing beneath the Northern Lights. “You're the only one I'll ever choose.” I laughed until I coughed up a mouthful of blood, staining the diagnosis report in my hands. Then I tore it to pieces and tossed them into the trash. Ethan Ford, you got what you wanted. I’d never bother you again.

My husband, Jonathan Rivers, was a notorious playboy in Polesburg's elite circles. Beautiful women surrounded him constantly, yet he claimed to have fallen for me at first sight, saying it was a love that would last forever. He dismissed all the other women around him for my sake. Everyone said I was his destined soulmate. Seven years into our marriage, I had seven abortions for him, simply because he said he did not like children. Then on Father's Day, I saw him on his secretary's social media feed. The same man who claimed to be away on business was there with a child beside him, calling him "Daddy" loudly. It turned out that when he said he did not like children, he meant that he did not like children with me. I dialed his number through tears. "Do you want another wife?"

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.

My fiance did not come home the night his childhood sweetheart returned to the country. His voice was as gentle as ever when he called. "Honey, she saved my life. Now she's terminally ill, it's only natural for me to take care of her." I told myself he should indeed repay her for saving his life. He continued, "Once I've repaid her, I'll cut ties with her." He looked so determined and loving that I believed him, time after time. But when a chandelier fell at his birthday banquet, the person he protected was that woman. He did not notice my shoulder was already soaked with blood. The day before our wedding ceremony, he locked me in the basement. "If you're still going to act like this, you need some time to think about what you've done. You can come out before the wedding!" Through the doorway, I saw their fingers locked. In that moment, every feeling I had for him disappeared. I did not cry or make a scene. I called my mother instead. "Mom, I think it's time I listened to you and came home."