Scumbag Regret Maiikling Kwento at Nobela

At eight, I swallowed the Tear of the Abyss, hidden in the holy font by my grandmother. After that, my skin was like pearl. It would never age. She called it a curse. Left by the Sea God. Every year, on the Night of the Tides, someone had to prove they truly wanted me to stay—press a Golden Scale to my heart. Or the scales would tear through my skin. My legs would fuse into a tail. The tide would drag me back to the abyss before dawn—a mermaid, trapped beneath the waves forever. Before she died, Grandmother left three Golden Scales. She gave them to my fiancé Alaric, my brother Caspian, and my childhood friend, Crown Prince Lucian. Their promises were so easy. "Just a scale? We'd get you the stars if you asked." But on the Night of the Tides, I saw all three. Pinned to a brooch on Evelina, the orphan from the Sanctum. They said she'd suffered, never known love. The scales would soothe her "fragile soul." But me? A princess didn't need trinkets to know I was loved. She danced. "I'm the luckiest girl in the empire." I pushed through the crowd. I just needed one. Alaric grabbed my wrist. "Haven't I given you everything? Don't be selfish now." Caspian shot me a look. "Let the artist finish, then you can have them." I showed them my hand. Sharp scales were already breaking through the skin. Lucian touched them. Laughed. "Illusion magic? Seraphina, your pranks are getting old." They escorted her to the throne. In their eyes, my life-or-death curse was just a pathetic play for attention. The blood moon was setting. T he gills behind my ears tore through my flesh. Blinding agony. I finally understood. I was meant for the sea. The water is cold. But at least I won't have to beg to stay anymore.

I came home late one night to find another woman in the apartment I shared with my boyfriend, Alistair Westwood. She was wearing my silk slip, which barely covered her thighs. Barefoot, she pressed herself against him. His hand was wrapped around her bare waist. "Nika isn't feeling well, so I told her she could stay here for now." Nika peeked out from behind him. "I'm sorry. I didn't know this was your place." "Where is she going to sleep?" I demanded. "And why is she wearing my clothes?" Alistair frowned. "Nika is sick. Obviously, she'll sleep with me so I can look after her. Can't you just let this go for once?" "It's fine. I can sleep on the couch," Nika offered. Alistair cut her off at once. "No. You're too sick to sleep there." I stared at the two of them for a moment. Then I grabbed a pillow and a blanket. "I'll take the couch." As soon as the bedroom door closed, I opened my laptop and reached for an invitation on the table. Half an hour later, I typed my answer. By the next day, Alistair's company had lost one of its biggest partnerships.

Every Thanksgiving, my husband, Salvatore, brings home a showgirl from one of his clubs. He makes me kneel and serve them drinks. A lesson, he calls it, in how to please a man. This was the eighth Thanksgiving, and this time, he brought back a girl poured into a tight leather dress. "She doesn't have any decent jewelry," Salvatore announced. "Give her your heirloom diamond ring. Your grandmother's pearl earrings, too. And take off that silk choker for her." He smirked. "And listen, she's young, doesn't know the rules. You'll have to show her the ropes. Especially how to handle a man in bed." Every member of the Genovese family was watching, waiting for my humiliation. I didn't disappoint. I opened my mouth and asked Salvatore for a divorce. Salvatore let out a sharp, ugly laugh, his eyes full of contempt. "Francesca, you pull this same shit every time," he jeered. "Your act is pathetic. Even more dramatic than your performance in bed." He leaned in. "You really want to divorce me? Fine. I'll give you five million in cash if you actually walk out that door." The living room erupted in laughter. They all said I was playing hard to get, that I didn't know my place. But they didn't know. This was the 88th time I had asked for a divorce, and it was the first time I truly meant it.

Sophie Jordan and her boyfriend, Carter Jennings, had been in a long-distance relationship for four years while studying at different universities. During the semester break, Sophie took an eight-hour train ride to North Capital University to see Carter, but he was not around. The resident advisor looked her up and down with a smile. "Are you here for Carter Jennings? He isn't here for the semester break. He won't be back for a few days." Sophie's grip on her luggage tightened. "Is there some kind of mistake? He just told me that he's in his dorm." Sophie had texted Carter just minutes ago, and he told her he was tired and wanted to take a nap in his dormitory. "I have no reason to lie. Look, he wrote a note about it." The resident advisor showed her the note. "He left for Southern University to see his girlfriend. He always visits her during the holidays, rain or shine. "Carter Jennings loves his girlfriend a lot. Every guy in his dorm knows that! Look, his roommates are right there." His roommates were speaking about him. "Too bad Carter isn't around this long holiday. If he were here, we could’ve formed a team for that big competition!" "All he thinks about is his girlfriend. He's always with her during the holidays." "It takes five hours to travel to Southern University from here, but he doesn't find it tiring at all. When I asked him why his girlfriend doesn't come here to visit him instead, he said he didn't want to exhaust her with all the travelling. Dang, he must really love her!" The boys laughed as they walked past Sophie, and she heard everything they said. Her grip tightened gradually on her luggage as her excitement turned to fear. Southern University? She was not studying there. Who had her boyfriend been meeting without fail every semester break?

I was born wolf-less. At the academy, Arabella made my life hell for it. By the time I graduated, my wolf finally awakened, gifting me powerful healing abilities. I thought the nightmare was finally over. I met my fated mate Alpha Tristan. He was powerful, gorgeous, and promised me the world. But the day I went to tell Tristan I was pregnant was the day I discovered his devastating lie. It was never Tristan in my bed. It was his twin brother, Ronan. The rogue Alpha who’d abandoned the pack years ago to slum it with humans. He used a scent-mimicker to crawl into my bed, to get me pregnant. It was all a twisted plot to humiliate me on my big day. They wanted revenge for Arabella, who lied and claimed I was the bully. They wanted to crush me. I stormed into the study to confront them. I told them I’d expose everything and demand an apology. Instead, they imprisoned me. They performed a dark ritual, siphoning my wolf into Arabella. They drained my life force and murdered my unborn pup. I died in agony. Then I opened my eyes. I was back on the day I found out I was pregnant. I clutched my belly, a single tear tracing a path down my cheek. Those bastards were going to burn for what they did.

I'm widely regarded as one of the best dreamwalkers in the field. For five years, I've paved the path to success for my CEO boyfriend, Silas Kielsburn, with the help of my dreamwalking skills. Alas, on the anniversary of our relationship, Silas insists on signing a 20-million-dollar financing deal after reading the dreamwalking interpretation drafted by my archnemesis, Maisie Caldwell. He completely disregards my many attempts to warn him that my dreamwalking interpretation shows the terrible danger looming over him in his dream. "Cassiopeia Vale, look at how selfless Maisie is! Her dreamwalker interpretations are the only things that can bestow golden opportunities upon me! Only a dreamwalker who's as pure-hearted and noble as she is is befitting as my wife!" After that, Silas smashes the fortune-shifting crystal I've gifted to him before proposing to Maisie. I respond by demanding the unpaid dreamwalking fees worth hundreds of thousands of dollars Silas has accumulated during the past five years. However, I end up getting cornered by the thugs he has hired in an alley. In fact, I almost lose my life there. Five years later, I chance upon Silas once again at a university anniversary celebration. By then, he's already a rising star in the tech industry. At the moment, he has an arm wrapped around Maisie, who's now an influencer known for her dreamwalking knowledge that she's stolen from me. Their popularity knows no bounds. As for me, I'm currently kneeling by a flower bed while rummaging through the lawn. "Remember how you refused to tell me the entirety of the dreamwalking interpretation back then, Cassiopeia? To think that you've fallen so far from grace to the point that you're looking for crumbling stones in the shrubs! "Even if you turned the lawn upside down, you and I will never get back together!" I completely tune Silas out. After all, my son has accidentally lost the crystal that I've given to his father as a love token. I need to find it as soon as possible. Otherwise, my extremely doting husband will definitely teach him a painful lesson at home tonight.

Three years after my death, Samuel Terrason came to visit my grave. When he saw the lilies blooming around it, his expression darkened. "What is this?" "If the stories are true, then these lilies mean she has found her partner in the afterlife." "Pull them out," Samuel said coldly. "Pull what out, sir?" "The lilies! All of them!" Then, Samuel bought the entire graveyard and ordered that every male be relocated. Yes, males. Even the dogs. "You're not seeing anyone else, even in death, Rachel!" he swore. "And if you try, I'll come find you when I'm dead, too! Not even death can separate us. Just wait for me!"

On the fourth day after my son's death, I decided to secretly dissolve my military marriage with my husband. Before that, I had three days to settle everything for my son. On the first day, I tricked my husband into signing the cremation papers. On the second day, I went to the school and collected the textbooks my son would never get to use. On the third day, I cooked a table full of dishes and begged my husband to celebrate our son's last birthday. He agreed, but soon after claimed he had a mission. Instead, he spent the entire night setting off fireworks with his childhood sweetheart. That night, I cooked. Then, I sat alone before my son's photo and ate all my son's favorite foods. The next day, my husband returned, guilt flickering in his eyes as he handed me a brand-new backpack. He said it was a gift for our child's first day of school. But he didn't know—our child would never have a first day of school.

My boyfriend, Simon Hepworth, gets down on one knee for the 66th time. Moved by his persistence, I finally say yes. But on the eve of our wedding, he drops a bombshell on me. He tells me he wants to have a child with his stepsister, Fiona Hepworth. I find it ridiculous and get into a huge fight with him. But I never could've imagined what would come next. On our wedding day, I wait at the altar for three hours, bouquet in my hands, only for him to dismissively tell me that the wedding is postponed. All because he and Fiona have an IVF appointment that very day. "Fiona was abused by her father growing up. She'll never be able to marry," he explains. "I just want to help her fulfill her dream of being a mother. It's just IVF. It's not like we're actually sleeping together. Stop being so sensitive." He then hangs up, leaving me alone at the wedding under the gaze of countless guests and flashing media cameras. The shock sends my father into the ICU. Standing by his bedside, I make a vow. "Dad, you were right. I won't marry Simon. Next week, I'll come home and take over the family business."

The Blood Moon Feast was over. I was delivering the synthetic blood supplement I'd developed for the vampire lord, Evander, when he suddenly threw me to the ground. "Give it to me... I want you..." His crimson eyes burned with desperate hunger. My face flushed. I thought he finally understood the love I held for him. So I let him sink his fangs into my neck. I let him form a blood bond with me—a human. I wanted eternity with him. But when I woke up, Evander's eyes were filled with shock and regret. It wasn't love. Just an uncontrollable frenzy from his once-a-century bloodlust curse. And now it was too late. A human bonded to an ancient vampire suffers excruciating, soul-tearing pain. To forcibly break the bond? A death sentence. Evander chose to honor it. He owed me—I'd saved his life once in the human world. But everything changed when Odette died. His true love, waiting centuries to bond with him. When she learned of our union, she shattered—left the City of Eternal Night alone and walked into an ambush by rogue hunters. They burned her to ash. When his family brought back the only thing left—a moonstone pendant—Evander's hands closed around my throat. "This was your plan all along, wasn't it? You trapped me in this bond. Then you conspired with hunters to kill Odette. Go to hell and apologize to her yourself!" He ripped the bond from me, tearing away the very blood that kept me alive. A day and a night of agony as my organs ruptured. Then I died. When I opened my eyes again, I was back. Back to the night his curse erupted.

On the day I sold my house, my best friend asked me. “Aren’t you getting married soon? Why are you selling your new home?” I signed the transfer agreement and replied, “Because I’m breaking up with him.” We were supposed to buy a particular couch for our new home. Caleb Graham said he had not managed to snag it yet, so he asked me to wait a little longer. Then, I saw that very couch in Claire Silva’s Stories. She had specifically tagged Caleb. [It’s the one I’ve been waiting for so long! He still knows me so well!] In the comments section, Caleb simply replied, [Don’t mention it.] That was followed by a bunch of trivial chatter between the two of them. I stared at that Stories post for a long time. Then, I canceled the order for the matching pajamas. I scrolled back through my order history. I had ordered over a hundred packages. They were all for furnishing our new home. At first, Caleb would enthusiastically pick things out with me. Later on, he did not even bother to reply to my messages. It was because Claire, his first love, had gotten divorced. His attention toward me and our new home had shifted elsewhere. “If a buyer contacts us, I’ll let you know right away.” The real estate agent slid his business card across the table. I reached out to take it. Then, I cast one last glance at this place. ‘Caleb, I admit that I regret it,’ I thought. Seven years had passed, and I no longer wanted to build a home with him.

I had been in an online relationship with Alpha Steve for five years without ever meeting him in person. We made plans to meet in person three times. Each time, my voice locked up and I ran away. The fourth time, I finally pushed open the hotel room door. Rose petals covered the bed, but Steve had his arm around another woman. He said, "Lavinia, you stood me up three times. How am I supposed to know you're really who you say you are—or even what you look like? So I brought Caroline instead!" Right in front of me, Steve pressed closer to Caroline. I could even see the mark on her neck. A chill ran through me. My voice locked up, and all I could do was pull out my phone and type, "Then what were our five years?" Caroline leaned on his shoulder and laughed softly. "So she really is mute. Five years of talking to you must have worn Steve out." I stood there for a few seconds. Then I laughed. If he could replace his date, I could replace mine. I turned, walked out of the room, and grabbed the first man who passed by. I had no idea at the time that he was the Alpha King!

During my cousin Monica Bleuthe's birthday party, my boyfriend, Grayson Chapman, who claimed to be on a business trip, suddenly appeared holding her hand and toasting the crowd. We were stunned when our eyes met. Monica hugged his arm intimately. "I forgot to introduce him to you, Ella. This is my boyfriend, Grayson. He's the CEO of the company we worked with last time." Grayson approached me and lowered his voice to say, "It's just a misunderstanding. I'm only pretending to be Monica's boyfriend." We had been in a relationship for four years, and he had never allowed our relationship to go public. He even refused to let me attend any high-end parties with him because he thought I was just an ordinary employee who was not glamorous enough to be introduced to anyone. He had no idea that my father wanted me to gain valuable work experience away from the family business. I hid my identity so that I would be better equipped to take over my family business one day. If I had married Grayson, he would have enjoyed a portion of my family's fortune. Unfortunately, that was no longer possible.

I'm the Donna of the Vitale family, the wife of Domenico Vitale, the woman everyone is expected to bow to. Yet whether I need to access family funds, arrange a car, make a doctor's appointment, or even prepare a gown for a party, I must submit an application first. The woman who approves every request is Camilla Marino, Domenico's most trusted secretary. He says this is family protocol. As the Donna, I should be the first to follow the rules. Things change when I suffer a massive hemorrhage during my pregnancy. My request for emergency medical treatment is pending approval, yet I have already waited longer than I should have. I call Domenico and beg, "Domenico, please. Tell Camilla to approve it. We're going to lose our baby." He gently scolds me for trying to bypass family protocol. "Do as Camilla says." Just like that, he hangs up. That night, I lose my baby, as well as whatever love I have left for Domenico. I file for divorce and leave with nothing but a few clothes I owned before the marriage. He's convinced I'm doing this out of jealousy toward Camilla, that it is a calculated scheme to make him come crawling after me. He even tracks me down at my new place of work and publicly orders my medical treatment to be stopped, certain that once I lose the Vitale family's money and protection, I'll have no choice but to beg him. Trembling, our private physician tells him the truth. "Don Vitale, Signora miscarried a long time ago."

A few rounds into the night, when Ethan Brooks set his glass on the table and suggested a reverse game of Never Have I Ever. The rules were simple. Everyone took turns naming something they'd done. Anyone who hadn't done it put a finger down. The first person to put all five fingers down had to take a dare chosen by everyone else at the table. So when Ethan grinned and said, "I've dated a Grant," I laughed and raised my hand too. "What do you know? So have I." The whole table cracked up. When it was Claire Howard's turn, she lazily swirled the drink in her glass. She glanced at me, then looked at Noah. "Last month, Noah and I celebrated our seventh wedding anniversary." My smile slowly faded. "Don't joke about that." But Leah Collins, sitting next to her, burst out laughing. "Who says she's joking? We were all there for that 'wedding' of theirs." Seven years. Noah and I had only been together for five years. And our real wedding was still nine days away. I turned to Noah on instinct. He had his head down, fiddling with his phone as if he hadn't heard a thing. But the screen was still open to his text thread with Claire, and at the very bottom was a kissing-face emoji she'd just sent. I ended up with the dare. Ethan egged me on to use Noah's phone to call the third number on his recent-calls list and put the call on speaker. A woman's voice came through the speaker, warm with laughter. "Babe, you left your underwear in my bathroom when you showered here yesterday. Are you coming by tonight to pick it up?" The room went dead silent. I knew that voice. Leah. The others didn't even look shocked. Each of them had a piece of Noah's past: flirty jokes they'd once shared with him and secrets only his friends were in on. Some of them had even slept with him. And I, the woman who was marrying him in nine days, was the outsider. "You all win this game," I said, looking at him. "But him? I don't want him anymore."

I was packing up to leave work when the shooting started in the neighborhood. The company sent out a mandatory evacuation notice: everyone had to be out of the building by six, no exceptions. Before leaving, one of my coworkers asked, "Chiara, want me to drive you home?" I waved it off. "Leo says he's five minutes out." At five that afternoon, I could hear scattered shots in the distance. I called my boyfriend, Leo Bianchi. The call didn't go through. The last message in our thread was from half an hour earlier. He'd said he was five minutes away. I figured the shooting and lockdown would slow traffic a little. At half past five, the perimeter outside the building was breached and the power was cut. I was the only one left in the office. I called Leo again. This time the call went through, but Lena Pisani, his coworker, answered. "Chiara? Is that you?" I hesitated, caught off guard. "Where's Leo?" "He's driving. He can't really pick up. We're on our way to my place. Leo said it wasn't safe for me to go back by myself. "Oh, and he said he messaged you half an hour ago, telling you to find somewhere safe. You made it home, right?" The gunfire outside was deafening, and I slowly went cold inside. For three years, every bit of Leo's attention had gone to his new coworker. And whatever feelings I still had for him finally burned out. "Yeah. I'm home." A home he would never be part of again.

"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…

The day I finally got the witch's potion to heal his wolf, I threw my arms around Ethan, trembling with excitement. "Your wolf can be healed. We can finally be together. Really together!" He clicked his tongue. "That eager to be marked?" I froze. What does that mean? Then laughter exploded from his phone. A group call, speaker on. "Ethan, she's even dumber than we thought! She actually went and found a cure so she could marry you. Just mark her already—she's desperate!" "Even if his wolf gets fixed, Sera's the one who deserves to be Luna. A pureblood, not some bastard whose mom slept her way into the family. How does she deserve to marry an Alpha?" Alpha? Luna? I stared at the man in front of me, the one who'd always seemed so fragile, whose wolf was supposedly so faint it could barely be sensed. He was the Alpha heir of our pack. And Sera was the stepsister who'd been bullying and tormenting me since middle school. Three years. All Ethan had to do was take a few scent-suppressing pills, and I'd fallen for every word. Everything he'd done was to keep Sera happy.

My childhood sweetheart, Basil Nolan, died the night before I was going to confess my feelings to him. Every bone in his body was shattered, leaving him mutilated beyond recognition. It was all because he had stumbled upon the golden boy, Calvin Holloway, of the Zenirford elite, intimately wrapped up with his mistress, ruining the mood and killing the buzz. Later, I became that heir's new kept woman. I drank until my stomach bled for him, risked my life in street races for him, and knelt on the pavement in the freezing dead of winter to lick his boots clean. Finally, I managed to warm his cold heart. "I can give you anything in the world, except my heart," he told me. I smiled, wondering if that included his life.

On the day I was supposed to get engaged to my childhood sweetheart, Noah Pratt, I escaped. As I flew out of the country, I deleted all forms of contact with him. Six years later, I had to return to oversee the moving of my parents’ graves. At the entrance to the cemetery, I bumped right into Noah. He gripped my wrist while gazing at me with red-rimmed eyes. “Why did you run away?” he asked. He had grown very thin. Heavy bags were under his eyes. It was as if haunting dreams had plagued his nights. “Because I didn’t want to marry someone I didn’t love,” I replied. He swayed on his feet as if the rug had been swept from under him. “Is there anything else?” I asked. But he remained silent. I waited patiently before walking past him. I had not lied. Indeed, I had burned out that love for him in the first three years I spent overseas.