Short Stories & Novels

When Sylvia Reed postponed our wedding for the fifth time, I found a pregnancy test report in her bag and decided to force the issue. Then I saw a trending local post. A woman rolled up her sleeves, baking cookies. Beside her, a man bent down to tease a child. One look was enough. I recognized the scar on her wrist. It was in the exact same spot as the one Sylvia got years ago when she took a knife for me. The scarf draped over the man's shoulders was one I'd custom-made for Sylvia. Our initials were stitched into it. The sight burned. I thought about how Sylvia had been glued to her phone lately, and how I'd heard a baby crying through it. Ten minutes ago, she'd sent me a voice message. "Luke, something urgent came up at the company. I can't make it back to try on the suit with you. Maybe we should postpone the wedding again? Next year. We'll definitely do it next year." But I'd already waited seven years for this wedding. I took off my groom's suit and cut it to pieces. Then I wiped my eyes, pulled out my phone, and dialed a number I hadn't called in seven years. "I'm short a bride for my wedding. Interested?"

On the eve of my wedding to Dillon Garrity, the Don of the Garrity family, my father flew in one of Hollywood's top bridal stylists to create my bridal look. I sat alone in the bridal suite. Three hours passed, and the stylist still hadn't arrived. When I finally called to ask where she was, she sounded surprised. "Didn't the Don tell me to do Ms. Beth's hair and makeup first? He said it was your idea." Beth Garcia was Dillon's childhood friend. Before I could hang up, Dillon took the phone. "Beth and I grew up together," he said matter-of-factly. "She wants to look her best for an occasion this important. I'm sure you can understand." The priest had already come by once to confirm the ceremony timeline. Only two hours remained before the wedding. "But I'm the bride," I said. "My hair and makeup haven't even started." Dillon's voice went cold. "Do you have to cause a scene right now? You'll be my Donna either way. The ceremony is just a formality." Then he hung up. My heart jolted. I stared at my phone screen in disbelief. After ten years together, it suddenly occurred to me that maybe this wedding didn't need to happen at all.

When our teacher caught my desk mate, Avery Collins, and me stealing mock exam papers just before the college entrance exam, he shouted, "The college entrance exam is right around the corner! What was the point of stealing the mock exam papers? Tell me, who was the mastermind?" In my previous life, I took the blame without hesitation. My father nearly beat me to death for it. Avery and I attended the same university, got married after graduation, and raised a daughter, spending thirty years together. I believed I had the perfect life. Then, on the day of my daughter, Emma's wedding, I was thrown out of the venue. Emma told me, "You have no right to be here. Caleb Morgan is my real father." Avery looked at me coldly. "After you got drunk, you already signed the divorce papers. The company, the house, and all the assets belong to me now. You're leaving with nothing. From this day forward, we're strangers." Lost in a daze, I wandered into the street and was crushed beneath a speeding truck. When I opened my eyes again, I had returned to the day everything began. This time, I told the teacher directly, "Avery was the one behind it. I gave her the papers, but I never looked at them. My score belongs to me."

The night before our wedding, my fiancee, Winona Yale, sleeps with her first love. He tells her he has cancer and wants to lose his virginity before he dies, and she agrees to fulfill his dying wish. Later that night, I, Liam Parker, receive photos of them together in bed. I laugh coldly and text back, "If she's that much of a saint, she's all yours." The next morning, I cancel the wedding and announce a party to celebrate staying single. Winona panics, showing up in her white dress with red-rimmed eyes. Her voice shakes as she sobs. "You don't want to marry me anymore?"

On the night of my eighteenth birthday, the Lycan King came to me in a dream. He proclaimed me his fated mate and vowed to make me his queen when I turned twenty-two. Terrified, my father tried to help me escape this fate. Before he died, he entrusted me to his closest allies, a family with three powerful, wealthy sons who became my adoptive brothers. They once fought for my attention, each vying to be the one who would marry me. But that all stopped when they brought home Daisy, an orphan girl they found on the streets. They never spoke of marrying me again. Before I knew it, my twenty-second birthday arrived. A blood moon hung in the sky, and I trembled with fear, crying as I begged my eldest brother, Liam, to marry me. He had once had a million-dollar couture wedding gown designed just for me, swearing he would protect me for the rest of his life. But just before the wedding, he heard Daisy had a migraine. He abandoned me without a second thought, rushing her to a private doctor. Tears blurring my vision, I dragged the long train of my gown to find my second brother, Noah. The hot-headed brother who used to fight anyone who upset me now did not even spare me a glance. "Don't bother me," he snapped impatiently. "I'm busy preparing Daisy's medication." As the night deepened, my panic grew, and I ran to find my third brother, Caleb. He was holding Daisy, soothing her gently. "Evie, sweetie, stop playing the victim," he said with a gentle smile that didn't reach his eyes. "There was no Lycan King in your dream." "Your father was just afraid you were so spoiled that no one would ever want you, so he made up that ridiculous lie." "Once Daisy has fully recovered, we'll draw straws or something to decide which of us will marry you." My fingertips went cold as tears streamed down my face. So this is how they saw it. Marrying me was a burden. I stopped pleading. I turned, walked back to my room, and quietly waited for the Lycan King to claim me.

I was reborn on the night of the mafia gathering, where a drugged Ronan pinned me down, his eyes hazy with lust. This time, however, I didn’t give in. Instead, I shoved him off and called my stepsister—the girl he actually loved. I loved Ronan. In Twin City, he ruled like a king, yet he was constantly hunted by rivals vying to drag him down. In my past life, when he was drugged and forced himself onto me, I didn't push him away. That single night resulted in my pregnancy. My father, the don of the Sorrento mafia family, forced Ronan into marriage for a strategic alliance between our families. On our wedding day, my stepsister, Susan, left Twin City in tears, only to be brutally tortured and killed by a street gang in the slums. Before breathing her last breath, she had dialed Ronan’s number ninety-nine times, begging for help. Yet, to prove his absolute loyalty to me, he ignored every single call. Even when her battered, lifeless body was delivered back to him, his face remained stone-cold. However, while I was dying from a hemorrhage during childbirth, Ronan stopped the doctors from saving me. As my consciousness faded, his hatred-filled voice echoed in my ears. “If you hadn’t climbed into my bed and forced me to marry you, Susan wouldn’t have died in that tragic accident! Her death is entirely your fault, and you shall pay for it with your life!” Then, I took my last breath, only to wake up on the exact night Ronan was drugged.

Two weeks before my wedding to Alexander Hayes, he invites his friends over to our small home. During dinner, Alexander keeps groping me, whether intentionally or not. After they finish eating, I overhear their conversation as I clear the dishes and walk past the study. "Alex, Lydia's quite something. I touched her earlier, and her skin's so soft. She nearly pulled my soul out. "If you don't mind, let us guys have some fun with her once she pays off the debt for you. We'll help you cover the cost of whatever Kay wants." Alexander chuckles softly, his voice casual and careless. "Sure, I don't mind. I've been sleeping with her for so long, I'm already sick of her anyway. "Just make sure she doesn't rat us out to my grandpa... Actually, forget it. She's blind anyway, so she won't figure it out." For two years, I've devoted myself completely to taking care of Alexander, yet he's ready to throw me into other men's beds, using my body to settle his debts. I stand silently at the doorway, feeling absolutely nothing. Of course, I know that someone else has been replacing him for a year. The person who holds me close night after night isn't him, and the child in my belly isn't his either.

On my wedding anniversary, I go to Anthony Scroll's company in an attempt to surprise him. No one at the front desk stops me from entering. But what stops me in my tracks is the fact that a photo of me is printed on the welcome mat outside the CEO's office. There's also a sentence printed on the mat that says, "You'll be bestowed with wealth if you step on her face." My hands start trembling out of rage. As soon as I open the door to the office and try to bring up the topic in front of Anthony, Alexis Timmer, a shareholder, as well as one of Anthony's "boys", throws a stack of useless documents at my face instantly. The sharp edges of the papers leave papercuts on my cheek, sending white-hot pain flaring through my senses. Alexis has one leg crossed over the other as she chews on a piece of gum innocently. "Oh, hey Kimberly! Sorry about that. The papers came flying out of my hand for no reason. You see, the programmers are extremely stressed, so the mat is meant for them to vent their stress. "Anthony has agreed to the usage of your photo, by the way. After all, it makes things even livelier for the company. A housewife like you will never understand our niche humor." Anthony takes off his earphones before shooting me a berating glance. Then, he passes a bottle of water to Alexis. "Alex is just like one of the boys. Stop using your own rules to restrict her." As Alexis twists open the bottle cap, she tilts her chin in my direction smugly. "Also, Anthony hates it whenever you show up at the company with your stupid surprises, Kimberly. The food that you bring him always ends up getting eaten by us as a form of punishment."

Amanda Gordon, my girlfriend, could never get quantities right. She always purchased one extra of everything. On our dates, she always ordered for three. “Oops, I ordered too much. Why don’t we invite Kevin too?” On my birthday, she bought two gifts. “Oops, I bought one too many. Why don’t we give it to Kevin?” After a while, I grew used to it and simply accepted that as my new normal. On the day of our wedding attire fitting, Amanda suddenly reached out and stopped me. “Leigh, the suit I designed for you is over there. This one is for the best man. I had it made for Kevin.” I looked up at the best man’s suit in front of me. It was sharply tailored, with clean, structured lines and tiny silver crystals set into the collar. The groom’s suit she had left for me, meanwhile, was plain, wrinkled, and stained. I finally decided to leave her at that moment. She had given the only bespoke suit she could commission to Kevin Burg. There was nothing left in this relationship worth holding on to. I quietly looked at my phone and sent a message to my former professor, Lawrence Hindle, who lived far away in Westmere. [Dr. Hindle, does your institute still have an opening for me?]

By day, I was a maid in Chester Graham's household. By night, I was nothing more than a way for him to satisfy his desires. After one encounter, he dragged me from the bed, indifferent to my pain. "You don't have to come back," he said flatly. I collapsed to the floor in terror. "Did I do something wrong? Please don't send me away." The man who had murmured comforts to me only moments earlier now gazed down with icy detachment. "Wendy has agreed to marry me. "She's afraid of pain. You were nothing more than a tool for me to practice on. Once used, you're thrown away. "You've always been obedient. You know what you're supposed to do."

A car accident left me with severe brain injuries. I was left hanging by a thread. My wife, a renowned medical genius, personally operated on me for 18 consecutive hours, pulling me back from death's grasp. Yet, the first words I said to her after waking up were, "Grace, I want a divorce." Her eyes were filled with tears. "Derek, I just saved your life, and now, you want to leave me? Is it because I've been too busy at the hospital? Because I haven't spent enough time with you?" I frowned. "It's exactly because you saved me that I want this divorce. I won't let you sacrifice your reputation for me." The family elders tried to reason with me. "Grace is such a wonderful wife. She takes care of everything and loves you deeply. Why insist on a divorce? Why throw away such happiness?" No matter who approached me, I dismissed them with the same response. "If you think she's so perfect, then she'll be available once we're divorced." The elders were furious. "Fine! Get your divorce! But don't come crying to us when you regret it!" I whispered under my breath, "The only thing I regret is not divorcing her sooner."

On the third night of my business trip out of state, I scrolled past a video of my wife locking lips with my best friend at a music festival. Jack Wilson and I had been brothers for twenty years. The day I married Emily, he cried like a baby and swore he'd give up everything he had if it meant I'd be happy for the rest of my life. But tonight, my best friend and my wife proved that promises don't mean a damn thing. After a few minutes of silence, I called Jack. "Hey, you end up catching that Bruce Springsteen show? Heard the production was insane." He paused. Then, casual as ever: "Yeah, it looked good. Saw some clips online." "Too bad you weren't there, though. Kinda boring going alone. When you getting back? We'll catch the next one together." I said sure. Hung up. Caught the next red-eye straight to his apartment. They took everything I gave them—my loyalty, my trust, my love. Now I'm going to take everything they have.

When I'm seven years old, my dad turns me in to the Court Judgment of the Born Wicked because of my tendency to vomit. If I'm found guilty, my blood ties with my dad will be forcibly severed. Then, I'll be sent to prison. Everyone claims that Dad is just making a fuss over nothing. "Your daughter is still so young, so it's natural for her to fall ill. As a father, you should be more considerate toward her." But when the evidence is shown, everyone clamps up immediately. There was once when Dad drank so much to the point he suffered from gastric bleeding. The business contract that he managed to convince his client to sign was all soiled because I vomited on him as soon as he got home. Thanks to me, the contract was voided. Dad got fired on the spot. During Bryce Fuller, my older brother's birthday, I vomited onto his birthday cake in front of his classmates. Because of that, Bryce was isolated by all of his classmates. He became so depressed that he tried to slit his wrist in an attempt to take his own life. I'll keep vomiting everywhere, be it at the dining table or on my bed. Dad and Bryce have to clean me up more than 30 times every day. They suffer greatly because of me. What angers everyone the most is that after I'm done vomiting, I'll laugh at everyone in a provocative manner. The judge gives his verdict instantly, claiming that I'm wicked by nature. Bryce's eyes redden immediately. As he cries, he tells me that he can't bear to see me leaving him. I never shed any tears, nor do I throw a tantrum. Instead, I accept the judge's verdict calmly, but with a prerequisite condition that the judge finishes watching my memories. The judge is shocked, to say the least. "We'll have to crack your skull open in order to extract your memories. You'll be in a world of pain. Are you sure about that?" I nod in determination. But Bryce, on the other hand, looks alarmed. "I won't agree to that!"

My husband, worried I might be lonely, gifted me a little female cat. I turned around and found 50 feral toms to breed her with, making her birth litter after litter until she was utterly spent. It was all because I had been reborn. In my past life, I adored this little cat so much I could hardly put her down. I wanted to eat and sleep right beside her. In just one short month, I aged rapidly into an 80-year-old woman, and the child in my womb withered and died along with me. No medicine could save me, and I simply died of old age. After death, my soul lingered. I saw that the sickly, frail mistress in our household had somehow become radiant and glowing, and pregnant on top of it all. I overheard her chatting in bed with my husband. "Thank goodness I bound myself to the Life-Drain System. I separated my soul, possessed the little cat, and sucked away Leah's life force. That's the only reason I survived." "She should count it as a blessing that you could drain her at all. It's better that she's dead. This way, the position of first wife is yours." I was reborn into a new life, and I smiled. Selling off a mistress would get me accused of treating human life carelessly. But she was merely a cat now, and surely it was perfectly reasonable to breed her for eight or ten litters and produce a hundred-some kittens.

There was a river that ran through our village. According to the legend, a river god dwelled in its depths, and every month on the 15th, the village had to send a young woman to enter the water and serve him. At first, everything seemed normal. After their service to the river god, the women would return to shore, go home, and eventually marry and start families. But this year, the peace was shattered. Every woman who spent the night with the river god turned up dead, their naked bodies floating to the surface. I secretly watched as they retrieved the corpses twice. The evidence of the violation was horrific. This month, I was selected. I had been chosen to marry the river god.

On the day of my birthday, my best friend, Bella Johnson, gifted me a polaroid camera. I took that to the zoo. I took some photos of the animals in the zoo. In my past life, I took the polaroid camera she had gifted me and happily took photos for my whole family. Unexpectedly, after a week, my mother got into a car accident and passed away. My father suffered from a stroke, which left half his body paralyzed even after treatment at the hospital. The company that I was managing ran into problems and almost went bankrupt. In merely a month, my hair had gone gray. There were wrinkles and red marks on my face. I gained a lot of weight due to the stress. My boyfriend felt that I was jinxed. He claimed that it was my bad luck that had caused my family to fall apart. He broke up with me. I was ranting to Bella when I accidentally discovered that she had suddenly become a millionaire. Her parents, who were hospitalized, suddenly became healthy again. It was as if they had not been sick to begin with. I almost lost my mind when I found out about that. On my way to the hospital, I was run over by a car and died. After I died, I found out that everything had happened because of the polaroid camera that Bella had gifted me. She had already been having an affair with my boyfriend for a long time. When I opened my eyes again, I was transported back to the day Bella gifted me the polaroid camera.

On the day of the state-wide exam, the Johanson family's real daughter accused me of cheating. Two perfect-score papers lay side by side, identical in every detail. No matter how I argued, I could not clear my name. Everyone sided with her. They branded me a cheater and cast me out of the Johanson family in front of everyone. To appease her, the Johansons went even further. They used their influence to blacklist me across every industry within their reach. I ended up sleeping on the streets. One hardship followed another until my thoughts dulled and a car struck me with such force that it sent me airborne. Even at the end, one question haunted me: "Why did my paper match hers?" Then I opened my eyes and found myself back in the exam room. This time, I turned in a blank sheet. I wanted to see for myself how someone who scored zero could possibly copy anyone.

My residential area suddenly catches on fire, and the twins my husband had with his first wife are trapped in the room. This time, I call 911 without hesitation. After informing my husband of the fire, I don't stop him from leaving. In my past life, when the fire broke out, my husband was about to leave on a vacation with his ex-wife and true love. The trip was to a deserted island—it was to make up for past regrets. I ripped his flight ticket to shreds, stopping him from leaving the house. We successfully saved the kids. After the fire, my husband hurried to the island. However, he learned his ex-wife was declared missing after being taken away by a strong wave. He was calm and composed after returning, even being extra caring to me. Three months later, I discovered I was pregnant. I wanted to surprise him, but my vision went blurry. I collapsed on the floor while twitching violently. He stood aside and watched me coldly. Then, he placed a photo of his ex-wife before me. "You've gotten your wish, Caroline. Are you happy now that you've killed Sasha? You can accompany her now! No, you don't deserve that. An evil woman like you only deserves to go to the underworld!" I breathe my last breath as my vision clears, allowing me to see the frostiness in his eyes. When I open my eyes again, I'm taken back to the day the fire broke out.

I have two kidneys. I've given one of them to my wife, Teagan Holt. In just one year, Teagan and her childhood sweetheart, Morgan Backman, have gone through all 72 karmasutra positions in bed. They can't wait to experience them all over again. My other kidney is given to Morgan. They've used 365 condoms, and the water bill is more than five times its regular rate. Teagan can't even get out of bed every day from how sore she is. Two years later, when Morgan needs another kidney transplant in order to survive, Teagan steps into the manor on her own. She looks everywhere for me, only to see our nine-year-old son, Milo Shepherd, crouching at the doorway. "Milo, as long as you can convince your dad to donate his kidney to Mr. Backman, I'll allow you to come home with me." Milo just stares up at Teagan innocently. "But Mom, you have Dad's other kidney inside you."

When my daughter, Ruth Jensen, says for the tenth time that she wants a different mother, I don't get angry. I just calmly ask her who she wants instead. She blurts, "Vivian." She means Vivian Green, her tutor… and also the woman my husband has never been able to forget. At Ruth's birthday party that day, she even openly thanks Vivian, saying Vivian takes care of her like a mother. Looking at Ruth's young, innocent face, I finally understand that she doesn't like me. So, I stop caring for her and my husband the way I used to. Instead, I turn around and join a classified national project. Rather than wasting time on people who aren't worth it, I'd be better off serving my country!