Maikling mga Kwento & mga Nobela

The day after my wife, Evie Sandoval, jumps into the river and commits suicide, her family, the Sandovals, hold a funeral for her. Upon hearing the news, I put on a bespoke suit and a red glittery tie, attending the funeral in full regalia. However, the moment I step inside, her parents begin hurling insults at me. "How dare you show your face, Michael Chandler! You murderer!" "If it hadn't been for you abusing her all these years, Evie would never have jumped into that river!" I simply smile at them and calmly pull out a Bluetooth speaker from my bag before blasting some disco music. "Come on, everyone! Shake your booty to the music with me!"

After I left prison, my best friend and I opened an auto repair shop together. He provided the money, while I brought the skills. We agreed from the start to split the profits seventy-thirty. Thanks to my talent for performance tuning and custom car builds, our shop quickly became the talk of the local wealthy car‑enthusiast scene. In our first year alone, we cleared a net profit of eight million. When I went to collect my share at the end of the year, my so‑called brother handed me a check for only one hundred thousand. “The business is doing well because I became friends with those rich kids,” he said with a dismissive laugh. “Anyone can modify cars. Do not tell me you actually think you are someone special.” He looked at me with open contempt. “Most repair shops pay their mechanics six grand a month at best. I am giving you ten. You should be grateful.” I stood there in stunned silence, and anger rose in my chest. I had trusted him like family, only to discover that my loyalty had been repaid with lies and betrayal. I quit on the spot without another word. I rented the workshop across the street and opened a repair shop of my own. Six months later, he showed up at my door with all his arrogance gone. “If you come back,” he pleaded, “I will pay you five hundred thousand a year. That should be enough to keep you with me this time… right?”

Colonel Rachel Melton promises me she will only stay by her first love's side during his depressive episodes 99 times. Yet, the moment I mark down the 99th time, I catch them locked in a tight embrace. After that, I no longer stand in her way when she goes to him. I only ask her for a good luck charm to serve as our child's first birthday gift. At the mention of our child, Rachel's expression softens. "When I get back, I'll make sure to give Diana a wonderful first birthday." "Okay," I murmur, completely omitting the fact that I have submitted our divorce papers ten days ago, and that our daughter died on the very day she chose to be with Todd Weber. Now, we are already divorced.

"Honey, the soles of my shoes are made of sheepskin. I can't get them wet, so come pick me up right away." Just as I send a WhatsApp message to my wife, Cora Harden, a barrage of floating comments explodes in front of me in the downpour. "I really can't stand a high-maintenance second male lead like Allen Brandt. Cora, the female lead, is a billionaire CEO, and yet she lets him boss her around like a lapdog." "The male lead has already joined the company. Once Cora sees how sweet and thoughtful he is, she's dumping that loser Allen for good." "This is hilarious. After the divorce, Allen can't do anything, so he'll end up as some cheap thirst-trap live streamer." Staring at the screen of venomous insults, I clench my fists in anger. Just then, Cora arrives with an umbrella, half of her bespoke dress soaked from the rain. Noticing my whitened knuckles, she pauses for a moment, then timidly tugs at my sleeve. "Sorry, darling. If I had driven any faster, I would have been speeding."

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?]

At our college reunion, I returned from running an errand for my boyfriend and found my best friend sitting in my place. My wineglass and plate had been cleared away and replaced with a fresh set. There was no trace that I had ever been there. When I came back, Serena Blake started to rise, but Adrian Bennett pressed her back into the chair. "She doesn't understand our casework anyway. She'd only sit here and smile along." No one else dared respond. Everyone knew my family had collapsed financially while I was in college, forcing me to leave school for a semester. Back then, Adrian and Serena were the law school's celebrated dream team, winning every difficult mock case they touched. After graduation, they rose together at an elite corporate firm, while I was dismissed as the little assistant who only got hired because I was Adrian's girlfriend. I stood there stupidly, unsure what to do. Adrian took the cigarettes I had bought for him and casually gave me another order. "Serena wants a milkshake. Go get her one." He did not even look at me before turning back to their conversation. As they talked and laughed without me, something inside me finally went quiet. I no longer wanted to chase the person I had spent years trying to catch.

At the express train station entrance, I was stopped by a security guard. He asked, “What is in the container?” I said, “It is a living heart. It needs to be transplanted in two hours.” I handed over the urgent medical pass. After the security guard checked the document and prepared to let me through, a hand reached from behind and grabbed the container. A voice shouted, “Do not let her go! The container contains prohibited items!” I turned and saw my sister‑in‑law, Ariana Cole. She pointed at me and shouted, “Sir, I am reporting her! She is my sister‑in‑law. What is in the container is not a cure for illness. It is drugs she bought from the black market. She plans to transport them and sell them by using her doctor identity!” Armed police surrounded us with their guns drawn. My eyes were bloodshot from anxiety. “Ariana, have you lost your mind? There is a donor heart inside! The recipient only has two hours to live!” Ariana rolled her eyes and sneered. “Why are you pretending? My brother said you have acted mysteriously lately. You are definitely up to no good. If you have nothing to hide, why not open it and show us?” The place fell silent. The SWAT officer leading the group spoke in a cold voice. He said, “Please cooperate with the inspection. Open the container immediately.” I looked at my countdown watch as cold sweat soaked my back. If the heart became contaminated, Arthur Quinn, the national hero who depended on it, would not survive.

During interviews, Ashley Freeman always smiles when she says that I'm the man behind her success. She claims that it is only through my support that she has become queen of the courtroom. Now, I have just secured the final cross-border merger for her. Her firm will officially rank among the global elite the moment this contract is signed. I rush to the airport carrying the merger documents, preparing to board my private plane and fly out to Tedlar Street to seal the deal, but I am stopped at the boarding gate. "Ms. Freeman gave strict orders. She's taking Mr. Luke and Mr. Collins to Swakosland for a vacation today. No outsiders are allowed on board." "Outsiders". The word leaves me briefly speechless. Through the door of the VIP lounge, I spot Ashley sitting inside. She cradles a three-year-old boy in her arms, while Eddie Collins, her first love from college, sits right beside her. The boy snuggles in her chest, his tiny hands clutching the lapel of her coat. He looks so familiar and comfortable with her, as if he has been held this way from the day he was born. "Mommy! Daddy said the three of us will fly on a giant plane to see the snow!" Ashley doesn't correct him. Instead, she kisses his cheek with such gentleness that she feels like a stranger to me. "That's right, sweetie. Are you happy?" The three of them lean in close to one another, looking like the picture-perfect family. After staring at them for a long time, I let out a soft, low chuckle and dial a number on my phone. "Pull every authorization and funding agreement I've ever signed for Ashley in the last ten years." Since she believes she already has everything, I'll destroy everything I've spent the last decade building for her.

My mother was an education expert who believed in the teaching method of using others as a cautionary tale. She had high hopes for my big brother, Joe, and I was used as a tool to discipline and educate him. Every time Joe did something wrong, my mother would double the punishment for me to make him remember his mistakes. When we were young, Joe touched a socket with a wet finger. As such, my mother tied me to a metal chair that was connected to electrical wires. I convulsed and started foaming at the mouth and lost control of my bowels. It scared Joe so much that he never touched another socket again. Another time, Joe saw a homeless dog and reached out to pet him. As a result, my mother found a ferocious mongrel and locked me up in a metal cage with it. I was badly bitten by the dog and wounded all over. Since then, Joe never touched another animal. My mother's methods took a turn for the worse before Joe took his SATs. He could not take it any longer and said, "I want to cut all ties with you after my SATs. I'd rather die than live as your puppet!" Joe's words prompted my mother to grab me by the hair and lock me up in a coffin. "How dare you threaten me with death? You should learn what death really looks like today!" However, my mother forgot that I had asthma. I smiled with relief as my body started becoming lighter. Mom, this would be the last time I would serve as my big brother's cautionary tale.

My grandfather, Tanner Kane, valued loyalty above all else. When his adopted daughter, Alanna Meyer, was sentenced to death for murder, he sent my mother, Florence Kane, to her death. All to preserve the bloodline of his late childhood friend. Alanna took my mother's name, married, and lived a privileged life free from hardship. Meanwhile, my mother died carrying a crime she never committed. My father, Graham Hart, and I changed our names and wandered from place to place. For years, I was mocked as a motherless child. Forty years later, after enduring humiliation and dedicating myself to my studies, I became a judge in Arbor Falls. Today, I am presiding over a controversial campus murder case in which the victim fell to her death from a building. There were no surveillance cameras. Only two girls were present, and each insists the other is the killer. One of them, Nova, comes from a poor family. Her parents are divorced, and she associates with local delinquents. She is known throughout the school as a feared bully. The other one, Scarlett, comes from a wealthy family. Her parents have a loving marriage, and she excels academically. Her grandmother is a beautiful and kind-hearted artist. Her great-grandfather spent his entire life doing charity work and was recognized as a nationally renowned philanthropist. Everyone believes she is a good girl who would never lie, so Nova the bully must be the killer. However, when I looked at the name listed under Scarlett's grandmother, I saw my mother's name: Florence Kane. Without a second thought, I turned to the person beside me and said, "Reject her request for acquittal."

My mother had hated my guts for 18 years. On the day I died, they had gone on a vacation and were happily snapping photos. The cops called her, but she got upset because the news marred her mood. So, she retorted, "He'd never take his own life. I bet this is just another one of his attempts to get my money. He can die for all I care. I'm not interested." She had no idea that I was already dead.

The day I discovered I was carrying octuplets, I worried myself sick over how I would make ends meet. Then, my husband, the Lord Regent, had his divorce decree delivered to my door. "10,000 gold pieces in exchange for your departure from the capital." I stared at it for a moment, then broke into the widest grin of my life. "Well, this certainly solves my problem!" I tucked the gold pieces and the divorce papers into my cloak, unable to keep the smile off my face. I walked out of the capital without so much as a backward glance. Word later spread through every high society circle that the ever-composed Lord Regent had gone mad, turning the kingdom inside out to find the ex-wife who had left with his fortune and eight unborn children.

When Luca Blair, Daphne Barron's childhood friend, goes bankrupt, she takes the 100,000 dollars meant to save my life and our child's just to help him. I beg her to return the money, but she snaps. "Luca will make it back. Think long-term for once instead of hoarding cash like an idiot." When I demand a promissory note from him, she calls me cold-blooded. Later, Luca breaks down crying, saying he lost everything and is going to starve. Daphne holds him close, promising she will take care of him for the rest of his life. I quietly pack my bags and call Dad. "Dad, you were right. Daphne really is trash. I'm coming home to take over the family business."

I was Johan's secretary for seven years. After another night together, he tossed me a check. "I'm bored with you." I gave him a teasing smile. "I've got less than three months left. Couldn't you wait a little longer?" He frowned. "Yara Yelton, you should know your place." My smile froze. He had no idea. I never joked about that. Later, he panicked. By then, it was too late.

I was killed seven times by the home invader who broke into my house, trapped in a cycle I could never escape. The first time, I fought back. The second time, I was terrified. By the sixth, I had gone numb. And by the seventh, I was determined to take him down with me. With my last breath, I ripped off his mask and found my husband's face staring back at me.

Petra Winslow was the universally acknowledged ice queen of our research institute, and she claimed she could hear what animals were saying. When our convoy was passing through Greyridge bear territory, she suddenly called for us to stop and pointed at a bear by the roadside. "It says it's starving. Let's get out and feed it. I can hear its thoughts. Trust me, it won't hurt us." In my last life, I had refused without hesitation. "That's a Greyridge bear, not some housecat. It'll tear through you like you're made of paper." The team backed down. Later, when news broke that the bear had died, Petra publicly blamed me for it. "I told everyone that the bear was starving, and he stopped us. He's the one who killed it." The internet tore me apart, and Petra's followers stabbed me to death. When I opened my eyes again, there it was on the other side of the windshield, a skeletal Greyridge bear standing by the road. Petra's eyes glistened with tears. "The poor thing. If we don't feed it now, it'll starve to death." The others turned to me. "Come on, Petra said it's hungry, so it's hungry." "Don't chicken out on us." I pulled the car over, reached for my seatbelt, and clicked it tight. "Sure. I'm all for it. Go right ahead."

After I retire, my son, Brandon Harrell, begs me to buy him a car and a house. To afford them, I have no choice but to work as a hotel cleaner despite my poor health. One day, a wealthy guest is having a wedding at the hotel. I keep washing dishes despite the pain from my chilblains when I suddenly notice that the groom's photo on the giant screen is Brandon's. I head to the wedding hall, wanting to ask Brandon what is really going on. The moment Brandon sees me, panic fills his eyes. Right in front of everyone, he orders the security guards to throw me out. "I don't know this old woman," Brandon says. "Someone like me could never have a mom who works as a cleaner. She's obviously here for a free meal. Get her out of here immediately." He walks onto the stage, takes the bride's hand, and affectionately calls another elegant, well-dressed woman "Mom". I recognize the woman at once. She is the childhood sweetheart my husband has never been able to forget for all these years.

My husband was like a broken record. His answer was always the same. "I can't leave." On our wedding anniversary, he said he couldn't leave because he had to take Natalie Rivers out and cheer her up. When I miscarried, he couldn't leave because he had to take Natalie to therapy. Even when my mother died, he still gave me the same answer. "I really can't leave. Natalie's depression has come back, and she can't be alone." Still weak after my miscarriage, I kept vigil alone for three days. That was when I finally understood. To him, neither our baby's life nor my mother's life mattered. My relatives were shocked to see me handling everything alone. "Josh really isn't coming?" After saying my final goodbye to my mother, I stood up and answered calmly. "No. He doesn't have that obligation anymore."

A week before the college entrance exam, my twin brother, Tristan Doyle, runs away with a delinquent. Our parents abandon their massive corporate empire and set out to search for him. I intend to join the search, but a comment abruptly flashes across my vision. "Don't go, Ryan! If you skip the exam too, your family is doomed!" With no other choice, I shoulder the pressure and walk into the exam hall alone. Yet the moment the exams end, my parents return and lock me in the basement. Ten years later, I finally escape, only to discover that Tristan has stolen my identity. He's celebrated as that year's top scorer, gets a degree from a prestigious university, and is even married to my former high-achieving girlfriend, Alisha Hudson. They share a perfect life with two children. Furious, I attempt to confront them, but they bind me and throw me back into the basement. As I howl in rage, my parents reprimand me, "Tristan was never as smart as you, and that delinquent tricked him into running away. There was no way he could've gotten into college on his own." "You're his older brother. What's wrong with letting him have one thing? Stop being so selfish." I break down completely and die in despair. Only after my death do I learn that Tristan was the one who sent that comment. When I open my eyes again, I'm back on the day Tristan elopes with the delinquent. The comment appears once more. As I stand there frozen, Alisha gently nudges me with a smile. "Go study! Your whole family's counting on you."

I went to my boyfriend's home with him to celebrate New Year's. On the sleeper train heading to meet my boyfriend's parents for the New Year, I decided to spice things up. After the lights went out late at night, I crept over to his bunk, climbed on top of him before he could react, and kissed him hard. Something felt a little off, but I was too caught up in the heat of the moment to care. Halfway through, though, I realized something wasn't right. The size was completely wrong—this wasn't my boyfriend.