Cerita Pendek & Novel Scumbag

I saw an advertisement on a secondhand marketplace app that someone was giving away an unused stroller for free, pickup only. The address was in a wealthy neighborhood across town. I secured my daughter against my chest in a baby carrier, spent two hours changing buses, then walked for another half an hour under the scorching sun before finally reaching the small mansion. I was drenched in sweat, and my daughter was so hot she started wailing. The seller was a woman about my age, with the refined air of someone who had been pampered her whole life. She studied my miserable state, her voice laced with both disdain and pity. "You came all the way from Eastside? And you're planning to push the stroller all the way back like this? My driver's going to take my husband to the office. He can drop you off on the way. Consider it one last good deed on my part." I thanked her profusely. I had just opened the car door when the man in the back seat stepped out to avoid any awkwardness. "I'll sit up front." I felt a little embarrassed, but the instant I saw his face, I froze. It was my husband, Calvin Gomez, the man who left early and came home late every day and had not come home for the holidays in three straight years because he claimed he was working for triple pay.

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?

My best friend, Jolyn Jones, called me while I was at work. "Help! S-Someone's about to v-violate me! Petra, please help me!" Panic shot through me. I immediately dropped a crucial project and called the police. Then, with an officer close beside me, I raced to the address Jolyn had sent, nearly tripping over my own feet along the way. Suddenly, two loud pops erupted behind us, and confetti rained down. Jolyn jumped out from around the corner with my boyfriend, Will Curry. "Surprise! That's the hundredth time we've managed to prank you, P!" I stared at them in disbelief. "What the hell? You thought sexual violence was appropriate material for a prank?!" The officer looked equally furious. "How dare you waste police time with something like this? You can be charged for making a false report! You're both coming to the station!" A lot happened after that. By the time we were finally released from the station, dusk had already fallen. "You planned this, didn't you? You wanted Jolyn and me to have a criminal record!" Will thundered. "How could you? It was just a joke! You're such a prick!" Rage surged through me. "Excuse me for thinking my best friend was in serious danger and calling the police!" I shot back. "I had to cancel a meeting with a client I'd spent three months negotiating with. Now that contract is gone!" "Shouldn't you be happy it was all just a joke?!" Jolyn sobbed. "Or did you wish I'd actually been violated like you were?!" Whatever reply I might have made died in my throat. My limbs went numb. Will wrapped an arm around Jolyn's waist. "Petra's so damaged that she's started wishing the worst on everyone else! It's best to ignore her when she's in one of these moods." I watched them walk away before sinking to the ground. My strength deserted me as my heart sank. Then a message from HR appeared on my phone. I'd been fired for canceling the meeting. Maybe that was for the best. The only reason I'd stayed in this city and worked at this company was so I could remain close to my best friend and boyfriend. But now, I didn't want any of it anymore.

I'm a born egotist. I never spiral or beat myself up over anything. If someone screws with me, I screw them right back. As a kid, my parents always favored my elder sister. One Children's Day, they bought her a cake and got me nothing. I flipped the table and smashed the cake into a complete mess. "Who are you trying to bullshit? If you can't afford two kids, don't have two. If you're that broke, why didn't you just get sterilized back then?" In high school, my cousin snatched one of my toys. My aunt said that he was still little and that I should let him have his way. I didn't even bother holding back. I kick him so hard that he howled in pain. "He's not my kid. Why the hell should I baby him?" After enough incidents like that, everyone around me learns not to test me. When I grew up, I got engaged to Liam Zeller, my childhood sweetheart. But the day before the wedding, I caught him cheating on me with my best friend, Mia Shaw. Liam leaned back against the couch and drawled, "Erica, I'll be honest with you. I'll admit I really did like you before, but after being with you, I realized you're just way too selfish. Any man who stays with you would lose his mind. You really ought to reflect on yourself once in a while." None of that got to me. I straddled him and slapped him across the face over and over again. "You knew I was selfish and still had the balls to cheat on me? You've got some nerve!"

I am an AI holographic image creator. After creating a holographic image of a deceased son for a grieving parent who has lost his only child, I gain a modest following online. Every day, people message me privately, asking me to create holographic images and videos of their deceased loved ones. Occasionally, I pick out a few requests and help them fulfill their wishes. One day, as I browse through my messages, a profile picture catches my attention. "Can you create a holographic image of my late girlfriend in a wedding dress? Her dying wish was to marry me, and I promised her I would give her a grand wedding." I stare at the profile picture, feeling a little light-headed. It is a small black mongrel with a white-tipped tail, exactly like the dog my fiancé, Holden Sinclair, has had for ten years. I reply, "Do you have any photos of her?" The sender seems to have been waiting for my reply and responds almost immediately. "No, but I have a friend who looks a lot like my girlfriend. You can use her appearance and figure to recreate my late girlfriend." Then he sends me a photo. My phone suddenly feels like it weighs a ton, and I can barely hold on to it. It's a photo of me.

A day before our wedding, my fiancé, Vincent Anderson's friends egged everyone on. They wanted to play a "bride challenge" game. My best friend, Anna Reid, and I were answering the questions about Vincent at the same time. Every time I lost a question, I was to hand out one thing that belonged to the bride. The first question was on Vincent's favorite color. I answered black, and Anna answered blue. Even though Vincent did not own a single piece of blue clothing, everyone shouted in unison, "Anna's right!" I had no choice but to take off my wedding shoes. The next question was Vincent's what he most wanted to eat when his stomach hurt. I answered oatmeal porridge, and Anna answered chicken noodle soup. Once he ended up in the emergency room after eating chicken noodle soup when he had gastritis. All these years, I was the one who woke up in the middle of the night to make him oatmeal porridge. I was about to protest when Vincent's face fell. "Do you really need to prove that you know me the most?" I handed over my bridal bouquet. It continued until we reached the very last question. "Who does Vincent want to marry the most tomorrow?" I clenched my wedding ring in my hand as Anna smiled and pointed at herself. The next second, Vincent walked past me and held Anna's hand. The whole room erupted in cheers and teasing shouts. "That's correct!" Following the rules, I lost my ring, and I lost my groom too. Vincent forcefully took my wedding ring off and put it on Anna's finger. Then, he turned to me. "It's only one rehearsal. "Don't be a sore loser!" I looked at everyone as they laughed, and I suddenly realized something. The answers did not matter. They had never intended to let me win from the very beginning. I took off my veil and placed it in Anna's arms. "Alright then. "Then tomorrow's wedding can be her reward too."

To keep anyone from getting suspicious, I can only use disposable things whenever I go to my boyfriend Seth Larson's house. I wear disposable slippers and eat with disposable cutlery. Even when I stay the night, he gives me a one-time-use bedsheet. "If someone happens to see your things, I won't be able to explain it." He always reassures me, saying, "Once we make our relationship public, I'll get you some proper things." For three years, I wait. Yet every time I go to his house, I'm treated like a guest. Then, one day, he throws a birthday party at home for his assistant, Regina Skinner. The moment the door opens, Regina casually pulls a matching pair of designer slippers from the shoe cabinet and slips them on. Seth's friends follow right behind her, each taking a pair and using up all the remaining disposable slippers. That leaves me standing alone at the door. "Just come in barefoot. It's not cold in the summer," Seth says. He doesn't even look up, as if he's inviting a stranger inside. From across the room, I see a full set of dishes already laid out on the dining table, all printed with Regina's favorite cartoon characters. Suddenly, I realize something. Since everything is disposable, now that I've given this love that can never see the light of day a chance, it's time for me to throw it away.

The company organizes a team hike. When it's time to split into groups, I look at Malcolm Ridgeway, the man I've been secretly dating for two years. I expect him to pick me. Instead, he turns to Savannah Leclair, his childhood friend who just got back from being abroad. "You tire out easily. Join my group, I'll look out for you." Savannah links her arm through his like it's the most natural thing in the world. Our coworkers eat it up. "Childhood sweethearts really are something else. Malcolm, you're still single, right? You two would be perfect together." Malcolm doesn't pull away. He just says, "Yeah, I don't have a girlfriend." I freeze. Just last night, he holds me and promises he'll tell everyone about us soon. But until the groups are set, he doesn't look at me once. I end up in the open group and sprain my ankle halfway up the trail. I text him, "Malcolm, I can't walk." He reads it and doesn't reply. I wait 40 minutes, and the only thing that comes through is a group photo from the summit. He has his arm around Savannah, grinning. The comments underneath are full of people gushing over them. Someone even tags me, "June, you fell behind? Don't hold us up." "Even Savannah made it and you couldn't?" "If you can't keep up, don't come." So, I walk down the mountain alone. At the base, Malcolm is calling a car for Savannah. He sees me limping and just frowns. "Didn't I tell you not to message me directly? If a coworker sees it, they'll get the wrong idea." It hits me all at once. A secret relationship is just a relationship he can deny whenever he wants. Well, he's getting his wish. He doesn't have a girlfriend anymore.

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.

Lately, Chloe Dunham has been posting photos on social media of late-night meals sent by an anonymous admirer. She was the only single one in our trio of best friends, so I was always the first to like her posts. But whenever I saw the hand-drawn doodles on the meal boxes, I couldn't shake the feeling that they looked exactly like the work of my boyfriend, Jacob Aniston. Chloe once flicked me on the forehead and teased me. "You jealous little thing. Don't go making up stories. The three of us have been friends since we were kids. If Jacob and I were ever going to fall for each other, we'd have gotten together ages ago." I rubbed my forehead and laughed, then let the matter go. That was until the station assigned Jacob and me to cover a typhoon from the front lines, and Chloe insisted on coming along to deliver supplies. Then the levee breached. The three of us ended up stranded atop a swaying communications tower as the floodwaters rose around us. When the water reached our waists, Jacob raised his microphone and faced the camera. He told viewers across the country that this might be his last broadcast. Then he reached out, pulled Chloe in front of the camera, and wrapped the only raincoat around her. "If I have to die, I have no regrets as long as I'm with you. Everyone, you don't need to wait for the next report. Right now, I want to protect the person I care about most." The livestream flooded with messages of congratulations as they held each other and cried. Meanwhile, I huddled in the corner, my lips purple from the cold. I didn't even have the strength to say another word. After the water level finally dropped and the rescue team pulled us to safety, I shook the mud from my clothes and opened the back door of the rescue vehicle. "Don't overthink it. Chloe's physically weaker than you. I was just afraid she'd get hurt," Jacob said.

Ryan Fairfax always knew how to get under my skin. If I asked him to hang up the clean laundry, he would hang up the shirts but leave the pants untouched. Then, he would argue, “You never told me to hang up the pants.” After dinner, when I asked him to wash the dishes, he would wash only a few plates, leaving the cutlery and the rest on the table for me to put away. Whenever I was close to losing my temper, he would always say, “I did exactly what you told me to do.” That would instantly turn my perfectly peaceful mood into a furious one, and we would end up having countless arguments because of it. Eventually, I started making my instructions so detailed that he could not possibly find a loophole. In turn, Ryan complained that I was being too long-winded. “You could’ve finished the chores in the time it took you to explain all that. Gina, you’re just looking for an excuse to be lazy, aren’t you?” I assumed Ryan was simply helpless around the house, so little by little, I stopped expecting anything from him. One day, at a gathering, I saw him cleaning up the house for his sister-in-all-but-blood, Julie Haynes. He needed no instructions or reminders. He did not miss a single thing, and no one had to nag him to get it done. In no time at all, he had turned the place from a complete mess into a spotless space. That was when I finally understood: Ryan was only helpless when it came to me. If that was the kind of double standard I had to live with in our marriage, I did not want it any longer.

Everyone says that the Crown Prince of the Kingdom of Landor, Prince Colin Livingston, loves me to the core. But on the day of court presentation, he bypasses me and presents the princess consort's diamond ring to my elder sister, Monique Payne, instead. However, I'm not the least bit upset. I even smile and congratulate Colin, saying, "I wish you and my sister a lifetime of happiness, Your Royal Highness." In my past life, I caught Colin rolling in the sheets with Monique when I was six months pregnant. I flew into a rage and accidentally killed her with a sword. Colin hated me for the rest of my life after that. When he finally ascended the throne, he posthumously crowned Monique as his Queen and even registered the many children I risked my life bearing for him under her name instead. I was heartbroken, requesting a royal decree to depose me as his wife. However, he tore up the royal edict and imprisoned me inside the palace instead. "You are my wife. And you will never escape me in this lifetime!" Ultimately, while I was still locked up in my room, our enemies ambushed and attacked the palace, setting fire to the place. And despite being struck down by numerous arrows, Colin still used every last ounce of his strength to protect me and save me from harm. Just before his death, he wiped away my tears with bloody hands and whispered into my ear, "Don't cry for me, Merry. I was the one who let you down in this lifetime. "But if there ever is a next life, I hope that you will let me be with Monique instead." I agreed in a trembling voice. But when I open my eyes again, I realize that I have gone back in time to the day the Crown Prince chooses the princess consort. So, I help him fulfill his wish this time.

On the last day before the college application portal closed, Juliette Larkin watched Colton Hayes reach for the mouse, delete the university choice they had agreed on together, and enter a completely different school. The school he picked was the one her best friend, Kelsey Tyndall, had been dreaming about for three years. Juliette's fingers went stiff over her keyboard. She could not process what she had just seen. "Colton, did you put in the wrong school? Why'd you suddenly pick Lakewood?" Colton closed the browser tab without so much as a glance her way. "It's not wrong. I'm not going to Stanmore anymore, Juliette. I'm going to Lakewood with Kelsey." "Why?" Juliette stared at him, unable to believe what she was hearing. "We said we'd go to Stanmore together. You promised me." "It hit me that Kelsey's always loved the sycamore trees at Lakewood, so I'm going with her. You can just pick whatever school's nearby. It's not like your scores could get you into Lakewood anyway." His profile was calm and indifferent, while she was close to tears. The day their college entrance exam results came out, Colton had scored 650. When he asked about hers, Juliette had only smiled and said, "It's about the same as yours. We can go to Stanmore together, Colton." The truth was that she had scored 705, a full 55 points more. And the full score for this exam is 750. Even so, she had never once considered changing her plans. However, he was choosing Kelsey over her. In that case, she would choose her future over him. Juliette took a deep breath, turned to her computer, and changed her application. She was not going to Stanmore or Lakewood anymore. She was going to Kensington University, one of the country’s top-ranked schools, far away in the north.

At the wedding ceremony, just as I was about to formally greet Alexander York's parents as my in-laws, his longtime female best friend, Casey Clarke, sprang up from the groomsmen's table and charged onto the stage. She dropped herself into the chair beside Alexander's father and crooked a finger at me. "Come on, Lucille, honey, my daughter-in-law. Come over here and pay your respects." By local tradition, newlyweds kneel before their in-laws and pay their respects during the wedding ceremony. The guests burst out laughing. Without the slightest hint of shame, Casey pulled up a video from the night before and played it on the big screen. In the video, she straddled Alexander's lap, forcing him to call her "Daddy". After Alexander finally said it, she asked, "What if your bride-to-be refuses to play along?" He lowered his head and lit a cigarette, his smile full of certainty. "She wouldn’t dare. She loves me too much to embarrass me at our wedding." The video ended. Casey reached over and patted me on the head. "Well, Lucille?" I remain still. Alexander walked over to me. "Casey's been by my side for 20 years. If you marry me, the least you can do now is show her some respect." Back then, when she stole my wedding ring, he said a twenty-year friendship like theirs shouldn’t become distant because of me. When she left hickeys all over his neck, he told me a twenty-year friendship like theirs couldn't fall apart just because of me. Now, he was still using the same old excuse at our wedding to pressure me into giving in. Alexander leaned over and kissed my forehead. "Come on. One time on your knees in exchange for a lifetime of my love. That sounds like a pretty good deal to me." I looked at him and realized how straightforward this equation is. So I decided I no longer want the deal.

At the wedding reception, every place card at the last table bore an online username instead of a real name. I turned to my husband and quietly asked who these people were. Before he could answer, a young woman at the table blinked at me and said playfully, "Hey, we're not strangers. I've been hiking with Zane for three years. Every time we go out, we sleep in the same tent." The others at the table burst out laughing. "Say it. Does Zane snore in his sleep?" I stood there frozen, wineglass in hand, utterly humiliated. To my surprise, Zane laughed along with them. "They're all my friends. I bought you tickets to Caldera Bay for our honeymoon, but I'm not going. I finally have some time off after the wedding, so I'm planning to hike the Blackridge Trail with them." I was about to demand an explanation, but the young woman had already pulled Zane into the seat beside her and started drinking with him. She playfully punched him in the chest as she laughed, her tone half teasing and half annoyed. I thought about all the times over the years he'd left me behind just to go hiking, and my heart went cold. I turned and walked away, leaving Zane with a single message. [Our honeymoon is supposed to be something we share as a couple. Since you're unwilling to go, I'll just find somebody willing to.]

When I was ten years old, I suddenly gained the ability to see red threads connecting people’s heads. Only those who had actually slept together would be bound by this unavoidable red line. Over the years, two extra red threads popped up over my father’s head, driving my mother to threaten to file for divorce again and again. Because of this, loyalty became the single most important thing I looked for in a partner. In the end, I chose Jasper—a modest, reserved man whose head was completely clean. On the night before our wedding, my bridesmaids hosted a bachelorette party. We played a game where whoever lost had to hand over their phone for the rest of us to snoop through. When it was my maid of honor Jean’s turn, she clutched her phone tightly, her face flushing red as she bashfully giggled. “Don’t look at mine! He wore me out so late last night. Those photos are definitely not fit for public viewing.” Everyone teased her for keeping her relationship so secretive, since no one had ever met her boyfriend. I was just about to step in and smooth things over when I suddenly saw a bright red thread stretch straight out from the top of her head. It wove right through the crowd and anchored itself directly onto my fiancé, Jasper. Yet, when he dropped me off at home last night, his head had been entirely clean. In fact, just half an hour ago, he had sent me a text. [Aria, I’ve saved myself for you for twenty-five years. On our wedding night tomorrow, I can finally have you. I love you!] I looked over at Jasper standing outside the door, staring at me with deep affection, and then back at Jean, whose face was glowing with passion. I raised my glass and clinked it gently against hers. “Jean, is your boyfriend’s last name Cook?”

In the second year after we decided on a destination wedding, my fiance, Nicholas Shipley, still had not finalized our travel plans. Unable to wait any longer, I confronted him once more. He finally took out his tablet to show me the travel itinerary he had prepared. “Honey, I just want the trip to be as perfect as possible.” Two years of frustration had been building up, and I could feel it boiling over. Just then, his phone buzzed with a notification. He stood up and walked away. He had forgotten to sign out of WhatsApp on his tablet. A pinned conversation with the young assistant intern, who worked for the manager, Annie Croce, popped up. He had marked it as urgent. [Nick, you’re amazing! You put together the whole itinerary in just two months. As a thank-you, I went ahead and bought us both tickets!] [This is a singles’ trip. So, no bringing your wife, okay?] The chat showed Nicholas’ elaborate travel plans in full detail. The itinerary he showed me had all been made for Jocelyn over the past two months. In contrast, I had waited for two whole years. Then, I heard his voice from behind. “Honey, the views aren’t great this month. How about we push it to next month instead?” “Don’t bother.” I was calm, but my body was as tense as a rock. “Nicholas, let’s break up.”

Caleb Gallagher is still under the influence of anesthesia post-surgery when he calls out to his first love, Naomi Whitmore, while holding me. "I regret getting engaged to her, Naomi. It wasn't until after I left you that I realized I never stopped loving you. It's no big deal that I got stabbed while protecting you; I would have given up my life for you if you'd asked." A hush fills the room, and everyone looks at me with sympathy. I don't make a scene or throw a fit. Instead, I do Caleb a generous favor and call Naomi on the phone. "Come look after your husband. He is in surgery."

The young woman Royce Drayton has his eye on is fierce. He throws 200 million dollars at her, but she still refuses to leave her broke boyfriend. In a rage, Royce locks her away in his Crescent Shores villa for seven full days and nights. The staff whisper that Royce has his ways, that he can turn even the most defiant woman soft and willing. Afterward, he comes to me with the same easy apology he always gives. I can't even count how many times he cheats on me. Just like right now, I'm still giving him the cold shoulder over the secretary who crawls into his bed the month before, but he's already over her and on to someone new. It makes my jealousy feel pointless and a little pathetic. At some point, he stops even bothering with excuses and just tells me, "You're my only real wife. Isn't that enough?" I even start convincing myself that no man can resist temptation, especially not one who owns the entire city of Grayport. He's just playing around, and his heart is still mine. That's all that matters. But when I find out this young woman gets Royce to add her name to the Drayton family registry in just ten days, something I spent ten years trying and failing to earn, I know he's truly fallen for her. Later, I bring the terms of an old wager to Royce's mother myself. "I lost. I'll leave Grayport." "Sweetheart, love isn't something you win or lose." There's pity in her eyes, but she doesn't ask me to stay. She only asks, "Will you come back?" I beg the Draytons for their blessing to marry Royce. I cut ties with my own parents, give up everything, and swear never to leave this city. Now, standing at the waterfront one last time with the harbor wind on my face, I know I'm never coming back.

When my husband supposedly drove off a cliff and died, I didn't shed a tear. I went straight to the county records office and had him officially marked deceased. My best friend asked, "Shouldn't you wait?" I gave a thin smile. "For what? For his first love to collect my insurance money?" Seven days later, I intercepted the $1.2 million payout. Then my best friend and I headed south in the middle of the night. A year later, my supposedly dead husband stood in front of me. I only smiled. "Go on. Have them restore your legal identity. See if you can explain that without facing ten years for insurance fraud."