Short Stories & Novels

The day before the piano competition finals, my boyfriend deliberately locked me on the rooftop to help his childhood friend win. He stared at me intently, his voice low and steady. "You'll have plenty more chances. Can't you just let her have this one?" Later, to secure her spot in the orchestra, he went so far as to break my fingers with his own hands. I confronted him in anger, demanding to know why he would do this when we were supposed to be in a relationship. He looked at me solemnly and said, "Susan, Miranda's mother saved me all those years ago, and now I have to fulfill this wish for her." What he didn't understand was that for me, losing the use of my hands felt like losing my very life. After I made the decision to stop loving him, he shattered his own hand, hoping to get my forgiveness.

While they slice me apart, I desperately call my brother, Nathan Slade. He finally picks up as my consciousness starts to slip and answers in an annoyed voice, "What now?" "Nathan, help—" I don't get to finish before he cuts me off. "Can't you ever go a day without drama? Gemma's graduation is at the end of the month. Miss it, and I swear I'll kill you!" Then, he hangs up without a second thought. The agonizing pain swallows me whole, and my eyes close for good, tears still trailing down my cheeks. Well, good news, Nathan… You won't have to kill me because I'm already dead.

On Christmas Eve, my six-year-old, Yule, was dying from cancer, and all he wanted was a gift from his dad dressed as Santa. I called Peter, my husband, begging him to come. His reply? "Can you stop blowing up my phone? I don't have time for this! I'm helping Tracey find Puffy. Do you know how upset she is?" Oh, Tracey. His first love. And Puffy? Her dog. I told him Yule might not make it through the night. His response? A straight-up dagger: "Don't act like this isn't your fault, Freya. If Yule hadn't kicked Puffy, none of this would've happened. Tomorrow, make sure he apologizes to Tracey." Then he hung up. That night, I sat with Yule, crying as I helped him celebrate his last Christmas. By morning, Peter's social medias were still full of posts about that freaking dog. Mine? Yule's obituary. Ten years of marriage, gone.

I had always shared a perfect relationship with my mother-in-law, Betsy Dutton. We were the model pair of a wealthy family. She and my father-in-law, Rourke Dutton had been childhood sweethearts, their bond seemingly unbreakable. But one day, she told me something that changed my entire perception of them.  She clutched my hand and tears were streaming down her face. “Naomi,” she sobbed, “your father-in-law… he’s been keeping a mistress. They even have a child together! “For over ten years, I’ve been in the dark, made into a laughingstock!” My throat tightened, and I couldn’t hold back my own confession.  “Mom, actually… Julius is no better. He bought a whole apartment building for his mistress!” We wept in each other’s arms, our heartbreak spilling out in waves.  After what felt like an eternity, she sniffled and straightened herself. “Men are utterly unreliable creatures!” “I’m done with that old man, Naomi!” I gripped her hand tightly. “Mom, wherever you go, I’ll follow. I’m done with Julius, too!”

Because I loved him, I became Luke’s secret lover for five years, thinking he must have some feelings for me.  However, when someone kidnapped me, and I called him for help, he impatiently said, “Suzy Roland? I have no idea who that is.” Then, he turned around and flirted with another woman. As he wished, I cut ties with him and became a stranger. Yet now, he’s weeping and begging me for another chance.

On the day of my birthday, my cousin, who does ballet, falls and injures her leg. My father smacks my leg with a club in a fit of rage. I cry out in pain, but he doesn't care. He sneers and says, "Now, you know how it feels! Why didn't you stop to think how much pain your cousin would be in when you pushed her and made her fall down the stairs?" He hits me with all his might until I can't make any more sounds. To drive the lesson home, he shoves me into the basement, uncaring that I'm on the brink of death. "I'll let you out of there once you stop thinking these dirty thoughts, Yvonne!" But when he opens the door to the basement once more, all he sees is my decomposing corpse.

Stephen's beloved Phoebe fell into a coma. To everyone, I became the villain—accused of harming her out of unrequited love for Stephen. Mute, I had no way to defend myself before Stephen locked me away in the basement. He said I would only be freed when Phoebe woke up. Broken and hopeless, I succumbed to fear and starvation, eventually developing amnesia. Day by day, my memories began to slip away. Yet, Stephen, tears in his eyes, begged me not to forget him. But all I wanted was to leave it all behind and keep moving forward.

My husband is a rock climbing route setter. It's our wedding anniversary today, but he brings his female best friend with him on an adventure to discover uncharted territory. It comes about because his female best friend says life is so boring. We're trapped in the mountains when we encounter extreme weather, and the rescue helicopter can only take two people with them. They climb up the ladder deftly, leaving me to slowly grow colder in the rain. I shout his name with all my strength. "I have a heart condition! I'll die if I don't get to the hospital soon!" He throws a rope down at me without even sparing me a glance. "Luna has menstrual cramps—she never says she's in pain. You, on the other hand, are only good at acting. Think of a way to get down yourself." What he doesn't know is that his "good friend" has already sliced the rope he threw to me.

Julian Carter orders me to clean up his childhood sweetheart's new home when I'm still recovering from childbirth. "Everyone knows you're good at home economics! Things will be much easier for us with your help." I'm wrapping things up when I feel something dampen my pants. The discharge trickles down my leg and onto the floor. Nadine Stephens covers her mouth and cries dramatically, "What's that? It's so disgusting!" She even bends over and pretends to gag. Awkwardness and shame wash over me, making me want to dig a hole and hide myself. However, Julian grabs me and scowls. "I told you to come here to help. You're causing trouble on purpose, aren't you?" It's Valentine's Day, but he chases me out and tells me to go home. I wait for him for the whole night with our child in my arms. He only returns the following day with love bites on his neck. That's when I know we won't have a future together.

I got off work early and walked into the living room, only to find my wife lounging lazily on the couch. And next to her? Some random dude I didn't recognize. "Babe, you know I'm obsessed with that sweet, milky smell," he said, sipping away like it was the best thing he'd ever tasted. That was it—I completely lost it. Meanwhile, our baby was in the corner, crying her lungs out, hungry and ignored. I didn't even think twice. I grabbed the broom by the door and stormed in, ready to raise hell.

My mother was the best portrait artist in the police station. She had a strong sense of justice and brooked no evil. However, all I got was a sharp retort when I called her to save me. "You know it's your sister's coming-of-age celebration today, and you're cursing her? Kidnapped, are you? Fine, the kidnappers can kill you for all I care." She assumed it was a prank call. So, she refused to go to the police station and do her job. I wasn't saved in time and was tortured to death. When the DNA report came out, she came to the scene all wobbly. She drew a portrait of me with my bones as reference, her hand trembling all the way. "Jessica? It can't be her. This is a mistake!" She tried again and again. Yet, it didn't matter how many times she redid it as the portrait showed my face. My mother, who had hated me my whole life, teared up.

I miscarry after happening upon my husband, Xavier Leeson, being intimate with someone else. He kneels before me and explains that his loyalty toward me has never swayed. I look at the man who's loved me for nine years and waited for me for five years. Ultimately, I still choose to believe him. After an arduous process of trying to conceive another child, I finally get pregnant again. That's when I accidentally overhear him complaining to his colleagues. "The thought of her being with her ex for five years makes me think that even the children she has are dirty." It shall be as he wishes, then. When he performs his next abortion, he's abhorred when he learns I'm the one he's operating on.

I asked my husband for a divorce during the most difficult year of his life. Everyone condemned me, calling me heartless, but I still forced him to sign the divorce papers. Later, he overcame his struggles and rose to become a powerful CEO. I avoided him for two years, believing I’d never cross paths with him again—until he caught me at my most wretched. His eyes brimmed with hatred as he stared at me. In front of everyone, he humiliated me and relentlessly forced me to down a bottle of vodka. I vomited uncontrollably, blood gushing from my mouth in thick streams. He mocked me, telling me it was the retribution I deserved for betraying him. I didn’t argue. I let him torment me. After all, I was already dying. If that made him content, so be it.

After a heartbreak, my friend introduced me to a cycling club. I didn't expect what seemed like an ordinary cycling night to have such a hidden, unspeakable thrill. As I watched my friend interact with a male member, my gaze faltered, and my heart raced. I couldn't help but wonder if I might try something like that too. Because... I'd been waiting for a moment like this for far too long.

When my parents were having an argument, my brother and I were put on the condenser fan unit out the window. We were tens of stories high. Our love-struck mother refused to let us back inside because he wanted our father to regret his decision. But that wasn't going to happen. Our father only felt that our mother was annoying. He then went out of the house after slamming the door behind him. Our mother was infuriated as she pointed as us. "If it weren't for you two drawbacks, I would have divorced him a long time ago. Shut your mouths or you can forget about coming back in!" My tears were blew dry by the cold wind. I swore inwardly that I would never forgive them. Later on, when our father was drunk driving and accidentally rammed into our mother. The two of them became disabled due to the car accident. The insurance company paid us over 1 million dollars, but I chose not to treat them.

I had promised my son that when he turned three, the three of us would go to the amusement park together as a family. But he never lived to see that birthday. My husband, Daniel Shaw, who was a perfect match for the bone marrow transplant, disappeared just before the surgery—phone off, leaving no trace. Without him, our son lost his last chance at survival. When Daniel finally came home, he asked, "Where's our son? Weren't we supposed to take him to the amusement park for his birthday?" Then his eyes fell on the urn. That was the moment he truly lost his mind.

"I can't take it anymore, babe. Faster! Oh, people from your country feel the best!" I hear weird noises coming from my son's bedroom in the middle of the night. I secretly push his door open to see him watching a movie in bed. He has a woman's underwear on his face, and his hand moves beneath the sheets. When I take a closer look, I see that the protagonist of the movie is my son. His female counterpart is his classmate's mother!

After I got pregnant, I witnessed my boyfriend's grandmother's death. She left behind a secret, and now, everyone who knows that secret is dead. First, it was my boyfriend's father who died. My boyfriend's mother followed soon after. Lastly, my boyfriend died too. He ended his life by overdosing right before my eyes. The media went wild. They dug obsessively for the truth. Again and again, the police summoned me for questioning. Online hate toward me was overwhelming. Everyone wants to know what the secret is. People claim I cursed my boyfriend's entire family to death, just to keep the secret to myself. I stay silent, never saying a word in defense of myself. On the seventh day after my boyfriend had passed, I spot someone at his funeral. At that moment, I place my hand on my swollen belly. I am utterly calm and at peace. It is time for me and my child to die too.

In the fifth year of my marriage to Jordan West, he cheats on me with a blind woman. She's young, pretty, and demure. Jordan scours the best hospitals in the country to treat her eyes. In the end, he fixes his gaze on me and tells me he wants me to donate my corneas to her. "They're just a pair of eyes, Hazel. Please help her. Can you really stand by and watch as she withers away?"

My body drifted in the river for five years before a fishing enthusiast reeled it in. Even though the forensic pathologist managed to reconstruct my face from when I was alive through craniofacial reconstruction technology, the hatred my brother had for me remained as strong as ever. "That better be her body! She has been on the run for five years! Even in death, she doesn't deserve pity! In fact, it simply is a disgrace to have a murderer like her as the daughter of the Clarke family!" he hissed. Everyone thought he despised me with every fiber of his being. Yet, as he spoke, his entire body trembled. Who would have guessed that the distress call I made to him five years ago would end up becoming the main factor that hastened my death?