Short Stories & Novels

My sister had struggled with depression since childhood. The doctor warned that she could not tolerate any kind of stimulation. As a result, my entire life fell silent. To avoid upsetting her, I never dared to laugh at home. I never dared to cry. When I got hurt, I did not even have the right to say it hurt. My parents would hug me with apologetic expressions and say, "You're the good one. Your sister's illness requires the whole family to work together. You're healthy. You're strong. Let her have more, okay?" One day, I accidentally knocked over a cup. The crash sounded enormous in the quiet room, and my sister's emotions shattered at once. My father struck me for the first time. He roared, "Can't you be careful? Do you have to push her until she dies before you're satisfied?" He shoved me to the floor. The back of my head slammed against the corner of the table, and blood poured out. But my whole family rushed to my screaming sister. No one even glanced at me. I lay on the cold floor as my vision blurred and my consciousness began to fade. To them, my sister's feelings were the only emergency. My small injury could wait. They did not know that bleeding inside the skull does not wait.

On the day of the World Rally Championship finals, I pressed the accelerator to the floor, ready for the final dash. The next moment, the engine exploded in a deafening roar, and thick smoke instantly filled the cockpit. Flames spread toward the fuel tank. I yanked at the door, desperate to jump out, but the handle wouldn’t budge, and the brakes felt welded in place. In that instant of despair, my husband’s voice came through the comms. “Attention, all teams, no need to rescue her. My wife is the Iron Racer! “For today’s live broadcast challenge, let’s see if she can drive this burning car across the finish line!” His co-commentator, recently recruited onto the team, chimed in with excitement. “Thomas, the sponsor just confirmed! As long as Jane holds on to the end, they’ll increase investment. I can get a permanent spot!” I understood instantly then that the husband on the commentary platform I had supported for years was using my life to pave the way for his mistress. Smoke clawed at my throat. However, I forced down the dizziness and begged, “For the sake of all our years together…” Only for him to cut me off with irritation. “Save your energy for driving. You’re skilled. Just hold on a little longer. Mandy’s promotion depends entirely on you.” The cockpit had become an inferno; my skin searing with every second. I gripped the blistering wheel, steering through the smoke for the last time. This time, my finish line was the commentary platform where the two of them were huddled together.

"Kylie, this year's annual bonus is evaluated based on two factors: performance and peer reviews. "Since your team never participates in company social events, your coworkers all gave you poor ratings. That's why this is your year-end bonus." Around me, the male employees were receiving bonuses in the tens of thousands. And yet, the women I led—developers who had worked for over ten years and built every core system the company relied on—each received nothing more than a coffee gift card and a mug engraved with the company logo. I laughed out loud. Then I turned and walked into my office and submitted resignation requests for the entire technical team. The manager, Preston Alec, sneered. "Good riddance. AI can replace women like you who only know how to have children." A few days later, the very people who had mocked me were standing in front of me, begging me to come back. I smiled in return. "AI conquers everything, doesn't it?"

The hospital suddenly called to inform me that the kidney I had been scheduled to receive had been transferred—by my husband—to his first love. I confronted him. He replied casually, "It's just one kidney. Are you really in such a hurry? Daphne needs it more, so let her have it first. You're not going to die anytime soon anyway!" I stood there holding the medical report proving he had uremia, and in that moment, my three-year marriage felt like a joke. Fine. He was right. I wasn't the one who was sick—so what was I rushing for?

I was the top bounty thief in the organization. The best they had. After turning in my final score, I announced on the spot that I was done for good. Then, I stood in my studio, blending paint. A single photograph was pinned to the wall before me. Black Viper filled the doorway, the light behind him casting his face in shadow. "What's it like," he asked quietly, "pretending to be an artist?" He stepped further inside. "Does paint smell better than blood?" I placed the palette knife down and wiped my hands slowly. "I'm done. I walked away." "Old Fox didn't approve of it." "That's not my concern." Black Viper crossed the room and tapped the old photograph on the wall. "Are you certain?" I did not want to look. I told myself not to. However, my gaze shifted anyway. A young boy stared back from the photo. "The blind kid?" I had spent ten years searching for him. "Where is he?" I moved toward the wall, reaching to rip the picture down. "One last job," Black Viper said, pressing his palm against the photo. My hand stopped in midair. "What's the target?" "The final lot at next month's auction that the Gilbert Group will be holding. "It's called Mermaid's Tear."

Just because I refused to let my husband, Timothy Blackwood, bring his late friend's widow, Gracie Morgan, home to live with us, he started spreading vicious rumors about me everywhere. Overnight, my reputation was completely ruined, and scandalous photos of me barely dressed spread all over town. Customers stormed into my restaurant and dumped food on me in disgust. "You're disgusting! Who would dare eat here now? Who knows where your filthy hands have been?!" One shouted, "Restaurant owner during the day, sleeping around in God knows whose bed by night!" ... Timothy had hired all of these people just to make the rumors seem real. Crying, I finally agreed to let Gracie move into our home. I begged Timothy to clear my name, but Timothy kicked me hard in disgust and hissed coldly, "You made Gracie cry for three straight days. Her eyes are swollen from it, so how am I supposed to face my dead friend? This time, you need to learn your lesson." Later, I became exactly what he wanted, broken down into a harmless nothing who could never threaten Gracie again. Just when he was about to let up, he got a panicked call from his friend. "Alyssa Winter jumped off a building!"