Short Stories & Novels

I am a firefighter. A beam crashes onto me in the middle of a burning building. At the same time, my oxygen is about to run out. I writhe and struggle as much as I can to reach for my backup oxygen canister, only to feel my fingers brushing over a bottle of water instead. When I turn around, I see my wife, Leah Sawyer, giving the last backup oxygen canister to her new mentee, Roderick Wyndham. I begin calling out to her via a walkie-talkie. "Leah, I'm being pinned down right now, and my oxygen's running out! Where is the oxygen canister?" As Leah shields Roderick behind her, she replies impatiently, "I've already given it to Roderick. It's his first time inside a burning building, so he's frightened. Having an extra canister on him gives him a sense of security. "You're already a veteran firefighter, so you can just think up a way to resolve your situation. Don't go around wasting precious resources." I can feel thick smoke infiltrating my lungs at that moment. Feelings of asphyxiation soon overwhelm me. "My leg is broken, so I can't move at all! Without oxygen, I won't be able to hold out till I get rescued!" But Leah merely chortles in response. "Stop playing the pity card! Every time we're out on a mission, you're always the cowardly one who's terrified of dying! You have zero sense of dedication at all! I shouldn't have let you join the firefighting squad, to begin with! "What's the use of you clinging to the equipment? Giving it to the newbies is the best way of maximizing its value!" I can only smile bitterly in response. Using what's left of my strength, I switch to a public channel and begin reporting to the command center. "For the record, Captain Leah Sawyer deliberately tampered with the essential rescue equipment in order to protect Roderick Wyndham, causing me, a fellow firefighter, to be trapped in a deadly situation. "I hereby request the immediate activation of the Firefighter Emergency Evacuation Act. Also, I formally charge Leah with gross negligence and attempted homicide."

As soon as Danielle Bradford has recovered from her postpartum period, she brings her baby to the county clerk's office to register for the baby's birth certificate. "My baby's full name is Taylor Gardner. Her father is Matthew Gardner." The employee types on the keyboard, but his brows draw tighter afterward. "The system has flagged another child with the same name under the same father." His words leave Danielle momentarily stunned. Thinking that her ears have deceived her, she blurts out, "That's impossible! Our baby has just turned one month old!" But Danielle feels her phone buzzing in her pocket before she can finish speaking. She taps on the screen, only to see a photo sent by Matthew's assistant, Meghan Landry. In the photo, Matthew has his left arm wrapped around Meghan's waist while carrying a five-year-old boy with his right arm. The three of them stand in front of a kindergarten's entrance with smiles so bright that they practically sting Danielle's eyes. On the boy's chest is a nametag that clearly says "Taylor Gardner".

Everyone knows that Tania Giordano is the principessa of the Giordano family, whom they mustn't piss off at all costs. Ever since she lost her mother at the tender age of six, she has grown into an independent, radiant, and bold woman on her own abroad. She initially thought that she wouldn't rely on anyone else anymore. But when she was 20 years old, a certain man rescued her from the pistol aimed at her by her father's enemy. Since then, Simone Lanzi has stayed by her side and protects her at all times. That's how Tania finds herself falling for him. But one night, she witnesses him panting slightly while staring at a photo featuring Noemi Giordano, her half-sister…

On our wedding night, my wife led my younger brother onto our marital bed. He was wearing nothing but his underwear. She expected him to consummate our marriage in my place. "Sweetheart, I feel awful about your legs and what the doctors said about your infertility," she said softly. "Elliot will just have to help us for one night." My face hardened as I stepped forward. I was ready to throw Elliot Charlton out of the bedroom. However, my parents immediately sided against me. "You're the one who can't fulfill your role as a husband," they said sharply. "Elliot is willing to sacrifice himself so that you can have a child. What's wrong with that?" Even my brother laughed at me. He said I was not a real man and told me to accept things while I still could. According to him, I should be thankful to gain a son without doing anything. They even suggested that I stay and watch, claiming it would prove the two were only trying to conceive a child and nothing else. I clenched my teeth until my jaw ached, then turned and called my wife's greatest rival. "You win," I said quietly. "The Wallace family's investment will be transferred to your account tomorrow." After ending the call, I raised my eyes and looked at Janet Wallace. "You share his bed tonight," I said. "Tomorrow, we get divorced."

After I discovered I was pregnant, I slammed the pregnancy test report down in front of my playboy boyfriend. Alan Rivers lit a cigarette and blew smoke rings at me, his tone casual and cruel. "Seeing as you've kept me company for seven years, I'll give you two choices. "First, you can abort the baby. I'll compensate you with a million dollars, and you can stay by my side. Second, keep it, take the kid, and disappear. The farther, the better." Why did I have to choose? I wanted both, so I took the million dollars and vanished from his world without a trace.

My mom often makes an example out of someone when it comes to parenting. Unfortunately, I'm that someone, while my little brother, Raymond Nelson, benefits from it. Ever since I was four years old, my mom had been using this method. If Raymond breaks a bowl, I'm the one kneeling on the floor to pick up the pieces. If Raymond destroys something belonging to someone else, I'm the one writing the reflection report on his behalf. Mom tells me, "You're the older sister here. Since you can't keep your brother in line, you're the one at fault." But Raymond can never get rid of his bad habit of stealing and lying. When Franklin Harris, the owner of a grocery store, comes knocking on our door, Raymond points at me once again. "She was the one who stole your money!" In order to help Raymond get rid of this problematic habit of his, Mom decides to hand me over to the owner. "Sorry, Franklin. It's my fault for not raising my child well. I'll give my daughter to you. You can do whatever you want to her, be it scolding her or beating her up." Little does she know that I will never go home after Mr. Harris takes me away.

My ex-wife, Erica Scarver, who's the head nurse of the hospital, devotes her efforts into saving an ICU patient. Meanwhile, I, the hospital dean, just start a livestream calmly. A few minutes later, the patient is out of the critical state. But Erica collapses instantly because she contracts the virus instead. "Hurry up and save your ex-wife! She's now infected because there's a hole in her protective suit! She's in a critical condition right now!" The medical staff looks at me worriedly. After all, I'm the most renowned medical expert in the entire hospital. But I remain unmoved. "Why should I save her? Don't you know that I've just wrapped up a surgery, so I can't enter the quarantine zone at all?"

Late one night after getting off work, I was scrolling through my company group chat when a colleague shared a piece of news. The headline was horrifying. "Night-Shift Courier Murdered During Delivery, Police Suspect Robbery." I zoomed in on the crime scene photo that had been partially pixelated, and a chill ran straight down my spine. Lying in a pool of blood, the courier who had been hacked to death was unmistakably me. I had scrolled into news of my own death. Almost at the same time, my delivery app began vibrating violently. "Urgent pickup! Destination: Unit 704 Hawthorne Ridge Apartments, Building 7. Time limit: 15 minutes. Penalty for timeout: Death." As I stared at the notification that read "Pickup failed three times", the searing pain of my brutal death surged through my body. So that was it. I had already died three times. When I forced open the half-closed security door of 704 for the fourth time, a thin delivery envelope lay quietly inside. I tore it open. A photograph slipped out. It was a picture of my dismembered body. The timestamp showed tomorrow at 7:00 a.m. On the back was a single line written in fresh blood: "Next time, remember to pick it up on time." At that moment, the red indicator light on the hallway surveillance camera suddenly went dark. I looked up. From the ventilation opening in the exact same spot, a single eye was staring straight at me. The mole at the corner of that eye was identical to mine.

"There's still half a year left before the contract is up. I'm getting ready to file for a divorce from Steven." As Celine Harlow speaks, she looks at the video which has been replayed on her iPad over a hundred times. In the video, her husband, Steven Kirk, keeps staring at his childhood sweetheart, Quinn Lambert, lovingly. "Oh, Quinn! I still can't forget about you at all! Will you please return to my side?" After that, he takes the initiative to capture Quinn's lips in a kiss. Meanwhile, Celine's son, Zane Kirk, whom she has risked her life giving birth to, keeps screaming at the top of his lungs, "Daddy, I want Quinn as my mommy!" Celine's resolve to leave her marriage behind is steeled even more. On the other end of the line, Steven's mother, Evelyn Kennedy, falls silent for a moment. She then advises Celine to think through her decision carefully. "You have to think this through. If you get divorced, not only will you have to give up on your current job, but you also won't be able to obtain any assets because of the contract." Celine doesn't hesitate at all. "I know. Since our marriage certificate is fake, I'll definitely get divorced without asking for a single cent. Don't worry." But Evelyn tries to get Celine to stay. "If you insist on getting a divorce, you won't get the custody over Zane. Are you sure you have the heart to never see him again?"

While studying abroad, I move into a shared apartment. Not a single day goes by without my housemate, Stuart Harper, calling himself some variation of a sweet, brave, and responsible guy. On the very first day he moves in, he hires workers to take out the insulation from the walls. I confront him about it, but he simply grins at me and proudly boasts about his decision. "That was all just some shoddy foam that the construction workers padded the walls with. Not only was it useless, but it was even taking up so much space. The fact that I forked out my own money to get rid of it proves that I'm such a sweet and responsible guy!" With a scowl on my face, I explain to Stuart the purpose of having proper insulation. He immediately leans in close with an admiring gaze. "I'm so sorry. I had no idea! I just wanted to do something nice for us. What should I do now? You have to help me think of something!" I naively assume Stuart just lacks common sense and doesn't act with malice. Thus, I willingly enter into a cycle of always cleaning up after his messes. One day, I get a fever. He ends up buying a secondhand electric slow cooker and declares he's going to take care of me by cooking me soup. My head throbs as I quickly put a stop to his attempt to heat the electric slow cooker on the induction stove. I tell him to let me catch a nap before I teach him how to cook later. But not long after I fall asleep, he secretly sticks the electric slow cooker into the microwave to heat it up. The microwave explodes. As the flames start to spread, Stuart screams and dashes out of the apartment at once. The fire alarm wakes me up. I try to evacuate the burning building, only to find that Stuart has locked the door from the outside. In the end, the fire burns me to a crisp. After that, however, he starts twisting things around. He goes online and says with a helpless expression, "My housemate set the apartment on fire while cooking. I'm the one who had to call the fire department on his behalf, and I even had to compensate the landlord for him. I'm definitely the sweetest, bravest, and most responsible guy to ever live!" As the online community proceeds to condemn me, Stuart uses the attention and publicity to go viral as a content creator. Some time later, my eyes open again. This time, I'm going to roast him good.

My girlfriend, Clara Sutton, had severe mysophobia. Before every intimate moment we shared, she required me to disinfect myself thoroughly in advance. She even set strict rules about how often we could kiss or sleep together, and how long it could last. Without her permission, I was not allowed to touch her. I had always believed she treated everyone this way. I even secretly felt relieved, thinking that I must have been somewhat special to her. Then came that night at the bar. During a party, her childhood friend, Ethan Ford, drew a dare in a game of truth or dare. Then, in front of everyone, he leaned in and kissed Clara. Although it was supposedly a punishment for losing, they kissed deeply for a full five minutes. Our friends laughed and jostled one another as they turned to look at me. Only then did I realize that Clara’s obsession with cleanliness had never been a universal rule. It had existed simply because she did not like me. Disheartened, I asked for a breakup. But Clara soon regretted it. With reddened eyes, she begged me not to leave.

"Shut down for rectification, fined $500,000, plus $300 compensation per customer. That’s the penalty from the Food Safety Bureau. Let’s see if you dare serve us gutter oil again!” Yves Larson, a part-timer at a construction site, sends me a provocative text purposefully, as though he's worried that I don't know what's going on. I just stare at the sign that says "closed for renovation", which is hung on the front door of my eatery. Never would I expect that the budget eatery that I've opened for the sake of the workers will be transformed into a blade that's aimed at me, thanks to the very same workers. That night, I sit in the apartment that my dad has left to me before his death. There, I spend the whole night smoking. Early the next morning, I head over to the bank and withdraw the money left behind by my dad, which is 260 million dollars. Half a month later, my eatery is open for business again. Work resumes at the construction site as well. Yves leads the construction workers to the restaurant at lunch. "I've taught him a good lesson last time. This time, I'm very sure that he won't have the guts to serve us cheap food made of shitty ingredients!" What he doesn't know is that the original eatery is already demolished. In its place stands a luxurious five-star restaurant. I stand in front of the main entrance as I perform a welcoming gesture to the workers. "This is a five-star restaurant that offers a private dining experience to you. The minimum bill for each table is 4000 dollars. You're welcome to dine here."

I manage to drag Jared Sheppard from death's door. Since then, I've accompanied him from his poorest times all the way to the current moment, when he's now worth tens of millions of dollars. On the day his company goes public, he gets engaged to another woman. "Gabrielle, she's different from you. She's an actual princess of the elite. I need to give her an official title, so I can't fool around with you anymore." I never bothered defending myself. It's time for this farce to end, anyway. After all, there's still a man waiting for me at home, who's been calling me his princess since I was a little girl.

The day I went to surprise my blood-bound, Damien, with my pregnancy report, I found out his childhood sweetheart, Lia, was also pregnant. But, with a vampire hunter's child. To protect her and her child from being killed, he lied to the whole Clan, saying her child is his own pure-blood heir. Meanwhile, my child who was actually his true heir was labelled as bastard . He promised me he would clear my name and declare our child his once Lia delivers her child safely. He left me alone at home and went to different location with Lia to help her deliver her child safely. However, his family broke through my den and stabbed me in the stomach with the wooden stake the same day he left me for Lia. By the time he returned, it was already too late.

It's my daughter, Noelle Peace's first day at the kindergarten. But the teacher kicks us out instantly. "Mr. Peace's son has been studying here for a year. Since when does he have another daughter?" This leaves me feeling confused. Noelle has only reached the minimum age to start her education. How is it possible for that child to study here for a year? After investigating the truth, I find out that the new assistant, Myra Larson, had enrolled her own child into the same kindergarten as Mrs. Pearce a year ago. I seek her out, only for her to flash her marriage certificate with my husband, George Pearce. "I know you. You've been pestering my husband all these years, haven't you?" The official stamp of the courthouse is shown on the marriage certificate, clear as day. The date is five years ago. But the thing is, George and I have been married for three years.

After getting reborn, the first thing Holly Webster does is to spend five billion dollars on an island that's completely alienated from the rest of the world. The employee in charge of the procedures is flabbergasted, to say the least. After all, the particular island isn't well-known on the world map at all. Not only do people not know about its existence, but it's also excluded from the rest of the world. Not even the GPS navigation can form a route leading to it. "Are you sure you want to buy this island, Ms. Webster? If you choose to move onto this island and live there, it'll be difficult for you to keep in touch with the outside world." Holly nods immediately, her tone taking on a relieved edge. "That's exactly what I want. I don't want anyone to get in contact with me."

On the six-year anniversary of my relationship with my girlfriend, Sheila Loom, I buy some groceries with the intention to surprise her with a home-cooked meal. After I'm done, I head over to Sheila's place right away. That's when the reel I was watching automatically skips to the next one. It's a live stream where people call in to discuss legal matters. A familiar feminine voice drifts to my ears at that moment. "My boyfriend shelled out 500 thousand dollars to put me through school. I've already paid ten thousand back to him. "At first, I wanted to clear the debt before breaking up with him, but I don't want to wait any longer. If he insists on taking me to court after the breakup, can I still pay the debt off slowly?" Almost immediately, comments flood into the comments section, chewing her out and calling her a heartless wench. But the voice replies calmly, "If I truly were heartless, I wouldn't have paid him back to begin with. I no longer have feelings for him. Are you saying that I should sacrifice the rest of my life just so I can pay 500 thousand dollars back to him?" My heart skips a beat at that moment. It's true that I've spent 500 thousand dollars putting Sheila through school over the years. But I feel that I'm overthinking it, seeing as she's never brought up the matter of wanting to pay me back before. After I call Sheila repeatedly for half an hour, she finally answers my latest phone call. At the same time, the woman's phone call that's connected to the live stream is cut off. "It's my birthday today, Sheila—" "Have you secretly come looking for me again? Didn't we agree that we'll only meet up after you've successfully gotten into college?" I don't get to finish the rest of my sentence. Suddenly, I catch a glimpse of the notebook sitting on the corner of Sheila's table. The first page shows "debt repayment ledger". Some of the details are as shown. "The SAT study materials I bought for him: 188 dollars." "The Uber fees I've paid for him: 35 dollars." "The cologne I've gifted him on his birthday: 380 dollars." "Total: ten thousand dollars now paid."

When I was fourteen, my brother—the Don—brought home an orphan girl to settle a debt of gratitude. From then on, my life within the Corleone family always took a backseat to hers. The girl framed me, claiming I was trying to poison her. My brother slapped me across the face and locked me in the attic. To make it up to her, he even gave her the position that was meant for me. This time, I didn't say a word. I just packed my bags and left. It took a few days for him to realize I hadn't returned to the family estate. Only then did he find out that I’d joined an international medical aid organization—and that I was never coming back to New York. After that, he completely broke down.

While I'm waiting for my wife, Anna Fulton, I happen to come across a popular post on social media that's posted by someone who lives in the same city as I do. "What should I do if my husband clings to me too much?" Among the comments that make fun of the original poster for flaunting her happy marriage on the Internet, the lengthy comment left by a masculine ID attracts my attention. "You gotta pretend to be ditzy and dumb. My childhood friend was forced to marry the man she doesn't love, so I suggested to her that she should pretend to be a directionally-challenged idiot. She kept up that facade for five years so far. "After that, her mother-in-law kept urging her to give birth to a baby. So, she secretly coated the stairs with grease, leading to her husband falling down the stairs. When she drove him to the hospital, she pretended to lose her way and drove a few laps around the suburban area. In the end, her husband could never get his manhood up ever again because the treatment got delayed. "Her mother-in-law thought it was an accident. She was afraid that my childhood friend might abandon her husband, so she bought her a house and a car. You have no idea how much that mother-in-law sucked up to her! "Today is her husband's professor selection day. She even suggested to him that she'd drive him to the campus. But the truth is, she plans on pretending to lose her way in the traffic just to drag the time out so that I can replace him in the selection. "Once her husband fails the selection, she'll use the opportunity to convince him to resign from his job. He's already a loser, to begin with. Once he loses his job, she'll have a valid reason to divorce him once and for all." The familiar experience makes my heart skip a beat. Before I can ruminate about the details, I hear Anna's guilt-ridden voice drifting into my ear. "I think I'm lost, Claude. Surely you can make it to the selection on time, right?"

The fearsome Romano family has made an announcement. Whoever among me and my sister, Vivienne Everhart, can give birth to the first grandson of the Romano bloodline shall inherit the Romanos' wealth that's worth tens of billions of dollars. Also, said grandson will be the next Don of the Romano family. In my previous life, Vivienne had married Dominic Romano, a healthy and strong young man of the Romano family. My parents were the one who had arranged for this marriage to happen. I, on the other hand, got married to Julian Romano, a gloomy man who was confined to his wheelchair due to his crippled legs. In less than a year after our marriage, Julian had regained his ability to walk once again. At the same time, I got pregnant with the first grandson of the Romano family. As such, Vivienne got abused by Dominic to the point that she completely lost her marbles. That was how she became the laughingstock of the rich socialites of the upper crust. On the day I was about to go into labor, Vivienne stabbed my belly with a blade. Then, she grabbed me before jumping off a tall building with me in her arms. When I open my eyes again, I see Vivienne snatching away the bouquet made of blue roses that's given to me by Julian. "I want to marry Julian!" "Vivienne, how could you snatch Isabella's bouquet away?" As soon as Vivienne receives the fancy blue rose bouquet, she freezes in place when she hears our father scolding her. After Dad grabs the bouquet from Vivienne's hands, he passes it to me before saying, "Isabella, you have a healthy body. Julian might be handicapped, but at least he's pretty talented when it comes to running his business." Then, he pats Vivienne on the head lovingly. "Vivienne, you're in poor health. Marrying Dominic is your best option." As I stare at the blue rose bouquet in my hands as well as the wedding gown I'm currently wearing, I dig my nails into my palm forcefully. Finally, I realize that I've gotten reborn.