Short Stories & Novels

My best friend called me sobbing at two in the morning, saying she owed three hundred thousand dollars in online loans and was begging me to save her life. I told her I'd help cover half. She grabbed my phone and transferred all three hundred thousand. "It's just money—why are you being so stingy? You make six figures. Helping me out shouldn't be a big deal." I swallowed it. A month later, she posted Maldives vacation photos on Instagram. When I asked when she planned to pay me back, she replied—right there in the comments, where every mutual friend could see— "God, stop nagging. Maybe spend that energy making more money instead, you cheapskate. So annoying." I screenshotted everything. Then I opened the civil complaint I'd already drafted. This kind of best friend? We could catch up in court.

I accidentally ruined the cake at the fake daughter's birthday party. As punishment, my parents and brother locked me in the basement. "You’ve let your jealousy ruin a perfectly good celebration. Stay here and think about what you’ve done!" they shouted. They left me in the basement and went off to the Maldives to throw another birthday party for the fake daughter. When a gas leak occurred at home, I was still locked in the basement. As soon as they remotely turned the lights on, the whole house exploded, taking my life with it. After my death, my spirit drifted over to where my family was celebrating. I saw them gathered around the fake daughter on a beach. When a luxury three-tiered cake was brought out, they watched her make a wish with a smile. The fake daughter put on a show of concern about me. "Darling, you’re too kind-hearted. People like her deserve to be locked up and taught a lesson. Let’s see if she dares to take anything from you again," they said. Hearing that, I completely gave up on my family. When they returned home and saw the destroyed house, however, my parents and brother went mad.

The autumn break has just ended when a call arrives from school. "Ms. Watson, your daughter failed to secure a scholarship and bullied her classmate in retaliation. Can you please come to school?" When I rush over, I find Lila Keats bound to a trash can, her hair drenched in sewage, and her mouth sealed with duct tape. Meanwhile, the so-called victim merely has had two strands of hair pulled out. After some querying, I discover that Melody Caldwell is jealous of Lila's achievements and has been waiting for an opportunity to strike. When I demand an apology, Vanessa Morrison flies into a rage. "You're lowly trash without a proper family! My daughter teaching her a lesson is the greatest honor you can obtain in this life! "Expel her immediately! My husband works in the Education Bureau! Beg for mercy, or she can forget about taking the college entrance exam!" That arrogant woman is convinced that Lila and I will beg for forgiveness after being expelled. Unfortunately, she has chosen to mess with the wrong person. Lila's grandfather is a nuclear weapons expert. Her true origins have been concealed for her safety since her whole family works for classified operations. I immediately call the Intelligence Agency. "Mr. Keats' granddaughter was bullied severely at school. Send someone here to deal with this now!"

My daughter, Annabelle Turner, was diagnosed with hereditary heart disease. I spent the past five years searching for a compatible heart donor for her. Now, I finally found one. Right before Annabelle is sent into the surgery room, my husband and renowned cardiologist, Gabriel Turner, tearfully makes me a promise. "Don't worry, sweetheart. I'll make sure Annabelle gets a shot at life again." Yet halfway through the surgery, Gabriel suddenly leaves in a hurry without giving any explanation. I stumble into the surgery room and see Annabelle lying on the operating table, covered in blood. Her chest is cut wide open, laid bare for all to see. Tyler Rotwell, Gabriel's assistant, stammers out, "Dr. Turner said… that Anna can still hold on a little longer, but Ms. Byron's son can't. "Dr. Turner took the heart that was meant for Anna and left…" I immediately break down and repeatedly call Gabriel's number, but Gabriel never answers a single call, not even when Anna's blood has completely dried… While settling my daughter's post-mortem affairs, I happen to see a newly posted update on Gabriel's childhood friend, Suzanne Byron's social media. "Turns out it was just a misdiagnosis," was what the caption read. "In that case, let's give this useless little thing to our good boy Oscar as a treat!" The video attached depicts Suzanne's dog Oscar tearing into the heart that was supposed to be donated to Annabelle. As I turn to look at Annabelle's cold body, the last shred of love I have for Gabriel starts crumbling apart. By the time Gabriel finally remembers Annabelle, whom he left on the operating table, only an empty bedroom and an urn containing her ashes would greet him…

My boyfriend, Leon Kramer, goes on a ten-day trip. When he comes back, he suddenly makes a casual remark as we lay in bed after an intimate session in bed. He says, "I've never noticed how fair you are." After he falls asleep, I take a look at the photo gallery on his phone. There are hundreds of photos featuring him and the woman he's been with over the last ten days. She has tanned skin and isn't as fair as I am. I put his phone back without a word. Actually, my new target isn't as fair as Leon is. I keep quiet about it, afraid of exposing myself.

The tenth time one of my paintings appeared under my sister Rose's name, I handed Adrian the divorce papers. He raised an eyebrow and tossed the agreement aside without a second glance. "Don't be dramatic. Your hand is ruined -- where would you even go without me?" I said nothing. He smiled, his tone dripping with casual indifference. "You should be grateful. Rose was the one I was supposed to marry. A few paintings is a small price to pay. A little gratitude wouldn't kill you." He blew a ring of cigarette smoke directly into my face. I choked, and the sting brought tears to my eyes. Through the blur, I was transported back to the moment my tendons were severed for his sake -- a pain that had drilled straight to the bone. He thought I had no choice but to take it. What he didn't know was that I'd already accepted an offer from the Royal Academy of Arts in London. Soon, I would be free of him for good.

With only an hour left until the concert began, every trending topic across the internet was dominated by a single headline. [Breaking: Rising Star Tiffany Burgess to Propose to Her Manager After Ten Years of Romance, Leaving Fans in Awe.] This proposal was not just a personal milestone; it was the centerpiece of our company's most ambitious PR campaign of the year and the culmination of a love story between Tiffany and me. Then, in the fire escape, I bumped into Tiffany, dressed in her wedding gown, locked in a passionate kiss with a young man. "Wayne, let me explain," she pleaded. "Explain what?" I snorted. "That just before our proposal, you're sneaking around with another man? The proposal is live-streamed to millions, with thousands of media outlets eagerly awaiting the announcement." I slammed the engagement ring down onto the table in front of her. "After the encore tonight, you'll either propose to me on that stage, or you'll be ruined, both in reputation and career!" Her fists clenched, but in the end, she gritted her teeth and grabbed the box. "Fine." Under the spotlight, she stood before me in her wedding dress, pulling out the ring. But instead of turning to me, she held the ring up toward the guest seating area, where her true love sat. "Wayne, thank you for helping me reach the stars," she declared. "But tonight, I'm going to chase my moon." The crowd erupted in shock and confusion. In a single instant, I became the laughingstock—the unwitting prop in her grand romantic gesture. My heart shattered the moment she reached him.

It all started when my sister made an offhand remark while sponsoring a poor student. She told him it was a coincidence that we were born on the same day, at the exact hour too. That comment made him convince himself that he was the real heir, that we were switched at birth. Soon after, he showed up with two thugs, kidnapped me, and planned to kill me to reclaim his life. I called my fiancée for help in desperation. Instead of saving me, she told me impatiently that I deserved to die for stealing his life. Her friend showed up to save me, but neither of us made it out alive after I was pushed into the river. I was back on the day when I was kidnapped when I opened my eyes again. When the poor student laughed and told me to pick someone to leave my last words to, I did not hesitate to call my sister. Their fates were sealed, with another chance at life, I would make sure to make them pay, and show them who the real heir was.

My husband, an Army regimental commander, was killed in action. Before his body was even cold, I didn't hesitate. I filed for his death certificate and notified the Army, the Social Security Administration, and our bank. Then, three days later—on the very day his twin brother married his childhood sweetheart—I moved out, changed the locks, and remarried quietly at the courthouse, taking my son and the full line-of-duty death benefits with me. To everyone else, I was heartless. Cold. I let them curse me. I just looked into my “brother-in-law's” bloodshot eyes and felt a quiet, cruel satisfaction. Only I knew the truth. In my last life, I discovered the body sent home wasn't my husband's at all—it was his identical twin brother's. I ran to confront him, but by chance I overheard him and my mother-in-law whispering. "Mom, Sarah is strong. And we have our son. She'll be okay. The benefits will take care of her. But Amy has waited for my brother all these years. If she finds out he's dead, she might do something drastic." Their words struck me like lightning. I tried to expose them, but my husband knocked me out. He told everyone grief had driven me insane. He locked me in the garage apartment and, with cold detachment, married his sweetheart. And when that woman complained my son was too loud, my husband slipped sleeping pills into our boy's juice—right as my crying child was coming to look for me. My son never woke up. The day they buried him hastily, I ended my life in the garage, utterly broken. When I opened my eyes again, I was back to the day they delivered my brother-in-law's body to our home.

When it's time for us to say our vows during the wedding ceremony, Jessica Fletcher, my wife, leaves the stage just so she can confess her love to her first love, Benedict Olson. "Once upon a time, we had vowed to stay together for the rest of our lives, Benedict. It's unfortunate that we've missed out on the chance to do so in this lifetime. Would you be willing to stay with me in our next life, then?" Touched, Benedict pulls Jessica into his arms. Then, he turns to tell me, "Oliver, I've already given Jess to you in this lifetime, so you must take good care of her for me." Everyone gasps in shock, thinking that they'll soon witness two men fighting over the same woman. But I merely smile at the sight of Benedict and Jessica embracing each other tightly. Then, I take off my ring before passing it to Benedict. "Why wait till your next life to be together? Since you've already made a vow to stay together for eternity, I might as well grant your wish."

After years together, we finally hit our wedding day. At the altar, Damien Huxley had the ring halfway on my finger when his old college crush from Francia called. The guy everyone swore loved me more than his own life? His eyes went red. Then he bolted for the airport. My hand froze midair. Then a stream of comments popped up in front of me— [Oh my god, guys! I just saw his old crush's profile pic—she looks exactly like the new cadaver donor at our school!] [No way. Don't freak me out. Keep that creepy comment away from me!] [Either they're twins, or you need glasses. Chill.] I opened my mouth. Nothing came out. I knew about Damien's old crush—our college classmate. But I remembered one thing clearly. She was an only child...

Before our wedding, my fiancée, Sarah Hargrave—a professor of medieval history—held a private ceremony in a secluded chapel in the countryside. But not with me. Under the glow of candlelight, she cradled Benjamin Wheeler—her first love, his face gaunt from the cancer consuming him—in her arms. Her smile was soft, almost reverent, as she murmured, "In the eyes of God, vows made before the altar are the only ones that matter. Even if the law says I belong to Daniel, my soul was never his." And so, to the faint echo of hymns and the scent of old incense, they drank from the same silver cup, exchanged rings, and stepped together into the dimly lit sacristy—their makeshift bridal chamber. I watched. Silent. Motionless. No outbursts, no demands for explanation. Just the quiet dialing of a clinic to undo the vasectomy I'd gotten for our future. From fifteen to thirty, I had loved Sarah for fifteen long years. But in all that time, there'd never been room for me. That space had always belonged to Benjamin, my stepbrother. So I let her go. Afterward, I joined a geological research team bound for the isolation of Antarctica—a land cut off from the world, quiet and clean. Before I left, I handed Sarah a divorce agreement…and a final gift to mark the end. I never anticipated that Sarah, who'd always met my devotion with frosty detachment, who'd never once glanced back as I walked away, would look ten years older overnight.

Since I was running late to pick up my son, Kyrie Stone, from school, I did not have time to change out of my work clothes from the construction site inspection. Right at the preschool entrance, I ran into one of his classmates' parents. The man, Adam O'Neil, looked me up and down and asked, "You're Kyrie Stone's father, right?" I nodded politely, about to introduce myself. However, he suddenly scowled and snapped, "No wonder he acts so poorly behaved at school. The apple doesn't fall far from the tree!" I frowned immediately. "What nonsense are you talking about?" He scoffed, getting even more aggressive. "Nonsense? Kyrie shows up to school wearing weird clothes and brings all these ridiculous toys. It's distracting my daughter, Sarah, so much that her grades are slipping." I was speechless, wondering how Sarah O'Neil's declining grades were Kyrie's fault. When I stayed silent, Adam got even bolder. "Just look at those dusty clothes you're wearing. Do you even have the money to send Kyrie to an elite preschool like this, or are you just some laborer trying to keep up appearances?" I thought Adam was insane. After all, Kyrie was attending our family-owned preschool. How was that trying to keep up appearances?

Because her precious Jeremy needed a lab rat, Harper shipped me off to Bendora Mental Health Institute after my surgery. I got electroshocked until I was drooling and twitching, and she? She just slapped her hand over Jeremy's eyes like, "Ew, babe, don't look." Jeremy scored a Research Award nomination off that mess. Harper celebrated with fireworks so loud they could've woken the dead. Meanwhile, I was lying there in the dark, staring up at the sky while they took my leg. To keep it quiet, Jeremy slapped on a prosthetic and threatened me if I ever opened my mouth. He told Harper I just got "a little banged up" in the trial. Numb, I boxed up my leg in a freezer box. Seven days later, at Jeremy's big gala night, guess who would unwrap it like a party favor? Yeah. Harper.

When the SAT scores are out, I've scored 400 out of 1600. That's because I never wrote anything on my exam papers. My mom goes crazy, whereas my younger sister, Melinda Bolton, bursts into tears. But I just laugh at them instead. In my previous life, Melinda had formed a pact with the score-swapping system. That was how she swapped our SAT scores. She became the top scorer that all prestigious universities fought to recruit. I, the valedictorian of my year, not only got into a trade school, but I also got expelled from my previous high school. Melinda had the gall to comfort me. "Didn't you call yourself a genius, Melissa? Trade schools are very popular right now. In the future, you'll secure a job at a factory out there!" In this life, I spend my exam hours sleeping in my seat the whole time. Melinda wants to swap her scores, right? Then, let's do it properly!

At a concert, I went wild, shouting at the top idol on stage, “Tony Townsend, spray on my face!” That night, my brother had me pinned against the ancestral altar, a ruler pressing down on the back of my neck. “Lift your head. Tell me, what did you want that idol to do to you?” Later, he shoved me down onto the mattress, his fingertips grinding against my swollen lips. “Isn’t this what you wanted?”

I put three hundred million dollars into building a business for my brother's first love. They were finally getting married. But two hours before the wedding, the maid of honor suddenly went AWOL. To keep the wedding on track, I dropped a major international deal, booked the next flight out, and flew back immediately. When I arrived, my brother hugged me gratefully and handed me the wedding ring along with a gift box — inside was a necklace, a token he'd promised Celeste. "Sis, I'm counting on you to take care of Celeste's side. I know it's a lot to ask, but could you step in as maid of honor today?" But the moment I walked into the bridal suite, my brother's bride slapped me across the face. "You've got some nerve showing up here, you homewrecking bitch." "You think you can steal my husband at my own wedding? Are you out of your mind?" "Celeste, I think there's been a misunderstanding. I’m Alexander’s sister…" I tried to explain. "Who the hell are you kidding?! My sister-in-law runs a billion-dollar empire. A tramp like you could never." "You want to steal my husband? Fine. Let's see how tough you really are." And just like that, I was tied up and thrown into a pen with a vicious dog. Celeste Davenport — if that's how you want to play it, then enjoy your one-way ticket to the hell.

The night I found out, I almost fixed it. Almost. My assignment had been changed to Everglades Academy. Two thousand miles south. Swamp territory. Three omegas died there last year. I'd asked Kael to file my school preference. Silver Peak Academy. Together. The way we'd planned since we were twelve, lying in the snow making promises to the stars. Now the screen said Everglades. I called him immediately. He picked up on the second ring, relaxed as always. "Hey." "My assignment," I said. "It says Everglades." "Oh." Not guilt. Recalibration. "Lil came by while I was filing yours. She wanted to play a prank—switched it to Everglades for a laugh." He laughed. Light. Careless. "Deadline's tomorrow night. Just override it yourself. It takes thirty seconds." "If I hadn't checked—" "But you did check." That patience. "Fen. You always check everything. That's why she knew you'd catch it. It was just a joke." Just a joke. So my future was a punchline. My life, someone else's entertainment. I said nothing. I packed my gear. I left for the transport hub on departure day. Kael found me at the platform. His smile was gone. "I told you to override it. You didn't change it back?" "No."

My sister's best friend borrowed 20 thousand from me, saying it was for her mother's medical bills. As a cop, I lent it to her. I figured if I could help, I should. When it was time to pay me back, she didn't return a cent. Instead, she showed up at my precinct holding a baby and accused me of indecent assaults. After a paternity test, the baby turned out to be mine. She went on livestreams, crying about how I broke the law despite being a police officer. She used the scandal to make herself famous. The force treated me like a disgrace and fired me. I tried to explain, but no one believed me. I went from a model officer to a criminal overnight. My parents were cyberbullied; with nowhere left to turn, they both drowned themselves. My wife was also beaten in the street. She suffered a miscarriage from the attack and died from massive blood loss. As for my sister, guilt drove her insane; she was hospitalized before vanishing from the public eye. After my family fell apart, I hanged myself one night. Then I opened my eyes again. I'd been reborn. Facing my sister's evil friend, I vowed to fight back.

On the day my marriage ended, the entire Vale family was celebrating my husband’s mistress for carrying the “heir” I had failed to give them. For five years, they called me barren. For five years, I protected Damian Vale’s pride while his mother humiliated me piece by piece. For five years, I played the perfect Luna while they prepared to replace me. So I smiled, opened the family group chat, and sent the one document that shattered everything. Damian Vale. Male. Congenital azoospermia. Permanent infertility. The room went silent. Then I looked at the people who had fed on my humiliation and said, “I was never the one who failed this family.”