Short Stories & Novels

Sheila Lindell, my fiancee, is the world's most renowned pyrotechnician. We have been together for seven years, and I have hinted countless times that I want to see a fireworks show made only for me. She always smiles and says, "I'll make you the most beautiful one for your next birthday." I arrive at the beach with high expectations on the night of my birthday, but when I get there, I see Sheila standing together with Jeremy Lund, her first love, under the fireworks. They burst over the sea, looking as brilliant as a dream that doesn't belong to me. I freeze in place when I hear someone nearby chuckle and say, "I heard Ms. Lindell puts on a fireworks show here every year for her first love. It costs hundreds of thousands of dollars each time. I guess she really does love him." I stand at the edge of the crowd, watching them surrounded by the fireworks before feeling a sharp pang in my chest. Sheila presents me with a neatly wrapped box when I return home. "Happy birthday, Christian. I bought you a countertop dishwasher. You can leave the dishwashing to it from now on. Your hands won't have to stay in water all the time now." I look down at the neatly wrapped box and smile faintly. I have loved Sheila for seven years, yet I only need a single moment to let her go completely.

My wife, Evelyn Shaw, is a germaphobe. She makes us sleep in separate rooms, and even our laundry has to be done separately. She also throws out any dishes or utensils I use, claiming they're filthy. On our wedding anniversary, I find a man's tie and a half-smoked cigarette in her spotless car. When I confront her, she casually smooths her hair without even looking at me. "It belongs to a coworker I gave a ride to. He accidentally left it behind." I don't say a word. One call to Claire Bennett, her company's biggest rival, tells me everything I need to know. She recently hired a young male assistant, Adrian Holt. Claire laughs. "Your ice queen is in the break room feeding the guy cake right now. Last I heard, she couldn't keep her hands off him." I hang up and throw my anniversary gift into the trash. Evelyn Shaw, we're done.

I've been sponsoring a poor student named Sophie Martin who's about to drop out, allowing her to graduate from university without a hitch. When Sophie confesses to me on graduation day, I firmly reject her advances. I didn't expect her to slander me after her failed confession, accusing me of sponsoring her only because I want to keep her by my side for salacious reasons. I'm thrust into the eye of the storm and forced to endure endless criticisms. My university fires me to save its reputation. No other school dares to employ me. I become depressed due to constant verbal harassment from the netizens. I barely survive as I hide in a dim basement every day. One day, I see Sophie on the news by chance. She has become an inspirational microcelebrity and is enjoying a life of fame and fortune. Infuriated, I seek her out and demand an explanation. But she pushes me off the building, leading to my death. After I died, Sophie tells the public that I refused to give up and continued to harass her, claiming that's the reason why I slipped and fell off the building. When I open my eyes again, I realize that I've been transported back in time to the day that Sophie tells me that she's going to drop out of school.

I opened a restaurant in an alley, and business was booming. When the lease expired, I took the initiative to talk to the landlord about renewing it. The landlord, Jasper Smith, crossed his legs and said, “My dear Flynn, my dear little nephew Harvey Jordan, wants to open a restaurant too. So, this place would be perfect for him. “He thinks your food is delicious, so he went out of his way to learn all the recipes for your dishes and soups. Come to think of it, he has you to thank for your careful guidance!” The blood rushed to my head. Harvey Jordan had kept his relationship with Jasper from me and worked at my restaurant for half a year. He had stolen my recipes, and he was trying to kick me out to steal my customers? I was furious. “Mr. Smith, isn’t this going a bit too far?” Jasper slammed his hand on the table. “The shop lot is mine. I’m free to rent it to whomever I want! Clear everything out before the lease expires!” I laughed through gritted teeth. “Are you sure you want to go down this road?” I had a secret blend of spices that I had never shared with anyone. Without it, my soups would become increasingly bitter the longer they boiled. Harvey had only learned some surface knowledge. He had yet to grasp the soul of it. I was interested to see how he would manage running a restaurant without its soul.

My roommate, Florence Myers—who happens to be from a low-income family—is obsessed with AI. She relies on AI to determine whether the food she eats will bring her good or bad luck, and she even lets AI plan her daily outfits. On our very first day of orientation, she refuses to lock the window, claiming an AI dating app has matched her with her soulmate. I warn her that our dormitory is located deep in the mountains and leaving the window unlocked is dangerous. Florence threatens to end her life if I don't let her have her way. "Cora AI said my true love will break through the window tonight!" I don't want to pick a fight, so I wait until she's sound asleep and quietly lock the window shut. However, when I wake up in the middle of the night, I catch a thief climbing in through the window. I'm about to call for help when Florence clamps her hand over my mouth, looking ridiculously excited. "Don't make a sound, Cleo! I just woke up to unlock the window, and he showed up! This is fate. We're meant to be!" Her cheeks are tinged pink. "If I go over and greet him right now, do you think he'll confess his love to me first?" Ignoring her attempts to stop me, I decisively call the cops and have the thief arrested. I think this matter's behind us, yet on the night orientation ends, Florence corners me against my bed, shoving the latest news headline in my face. "This is all your fault! The thief from that night is the richest man's long-lost son! You ruined my chance to marry into wealth!" The very next second, she strangles the life out of me. … When my eyes fly open again, I realize I've been reborn back to the very first day of college. This time, I scoff, grab my luggage, and walk out the door. Since Florence wants a love story that begins with a home invasion so badly, I'll gladly step aside and let her live out her dream!

In Onyx City, the ancient Thorne clan lived by a ruthless blood-pact law. If the clan Lord granted a new fledgling his absolute protection, the reigning Consort had to yield her place. She was required to remove her bloodstone collar—the ultimate symbol of his patronage and power—and fasten it around the neck of the new ward herself, right in front of the entire clan. Mia was that fledgling. Today marked exactly one year since she had been taken under the wing of Lord Luca, the man I considered my mate. Every vampire in Onyx City was waiting for me to break down. After all, I had been his closest companion and deepest obsession for ten years. I was the dying stray he’d saved from a hunter’s silver blade. I had craved him like a drug. I used to wake up in the dead of night, begging for his bite, his blood. I only felt peace when his scent swallowed me whole. They all knew my sickening dependence on him. They had even placed bets, swearing I would never let go. Yet, as Mia tilted her pale, fragile neck at me, taunting me with her sickeningly sweet voice, I didn't shed a single tear. Without a moment's hesitation, I unclasped the heavy bloodstone collar and fastened it around her throat myself. Luca lounged on his dark velvet throne, swirling the blood wine in his goblet. His scarlet eyes gleamed with amusement. "Elara. You've finally learned how to please me." I lowered my eyes, my fingertips brushing my bare, cold collarbone. I said nothing. Luca didn't know the truth. My sealed memories had awakened a month ago. I wasn't some lowly stray who had been clinging to life on the streets. I was the lost princess of the Nightshades, the oldest and most formidable Original bloodline in the dark world. In three days, my brother would arrive to take me home. I would reclaim my true identity.

After I fail my mission, the system grants me three days to say goodbye. For the first time, I become the perfect husband in Kristen Snowe's eyes. I stop waiting up for her when she doesn't come home. I stop fighting with her over the money she keeps giving to her childhood friend, Jake Leigh. On the first day, she scoffs at me. "If you'd acted like this from the beginning, I wouldn't feel so sick and tired of you!" On the second day, she starts to get suspicious. "That's it? You're not mad? You're not up to something, are you?" By the third day, she's the one falling apart. "Honey… Why aren't you jealous anymore?" I smile. "Isn't this exactly what you wanted?"

Three days before the start of summer break, Mom sends a screenshot of nine train tickets to the family group chat. "We're not just going to hang around at home this year. The whole family's going to stay at your apartment for summer break." A few seconds later, she sends another message. "Aunt Elise and her family are coming too. There's going to be a lot of people, so clean up the master bedroom and let them stay there. Since you're still working during that time, you can stay in your company's break room for a few days." I stare at the messages in stunned silence. I'm renting a two-bedroom apartment by myself. I'm also paying for all the rent, utilities, property management fees, my parents' living expenses, and even my sister Tiffany Roth's livestreaming equipment. Five minutes later, I receive a notification from my bank. 2,680 dollars has been charged to my card to reserve a private room for a welcoming party. A note is attached to the transaction. "For the Roth family's welcoming party in New Grandia." Mom then sends me a voice message. "Everyone in the family knows you're enjoying a lavish lifestyle in the big city. Don't embarrass us in front of them." I reply, "Okay." I hope that they'll be able to maintain the same attitude once they arrive in New Grandia.

In my past life, Noah Luther, my brother, runs away from his engagement. The bride, Julia Zimmerman, shows no resentment and simply switches the arrangement to me right on the spot. She is courteous and thoughtful toward me after the wedding, but that all changes when Noah crosses someone abroad and has his limbs crushed. She actually spends the whole night in the study after learning of that incident. I assume Julia is worried about my safety when she sends over a dozen bodyguards to me the following day, a gesture that touches me deeply. I suddenly lose consciousness out of nowhere the next day. Then, I get abducted to an abandoned factory and have my hands and legs crushed bit by bit. It's so painful that I try to bite my tongue to commit suicide from the agonizing pain. Julia walks in slowly, looks at my condition, and says wistfully, "So that's how much pain he went through back then." When Noah trips and falls during rehabilitation and loses a tooth, Julia violently pulls out my tooth with pliers that very same night. She looks at my bloody mouth and says calmly that she's only doing this for my sake since I eat too much. Soon after, I "happen" to fall down the stairs when Noah sprains his back, forcing me to stay in bed for three months. Julia even breaks a cup and drives the shards into my hand when Noah accidentally slices his finger while chopping vegetables. Noah later dies in a car accident abroad. Julia drags me to a bridge over the river and jumps off with me, saying, "You're just a stand-in for him. He's dead now, so you shouldn't live either." I open my eyes and find myself back on the day Julia arrives to talk about the wedding arrangement. Noah has already fled through the back door, so she looks at me coldly and says, "I'll marry you, then." I merely smile and say, "I'm already in love with someone else, so please find another person for this marriage, Ms. Zimmerman."

On my father-in-law Charlie Moore's sixtieth birthday, I rented out the VIP box at the Titan Boxing Gym so he could watch his favorite event with me, the championship title fight. The match was in full swing when the door to our box was kicked open. A man dripping in name brands stormed in with a pack of bodyguards, jabbing a finger in Charlie's face and cursing him out. "Where'd this old relic come from, thinking he can squat in my private box?" "I rented this fight tonight for my own entertainment. Get out, now." I kept my expression flat and my voice cold. "I paid in full for this box weeks ago, and the venue confirmed it. What gives you the right to throw us out?" The man sneered, looking at me like I was something scraped off the bottom of his shoe. "Paid in full? The entire Titan Boxing Gym was an engagement gift from my woman! This is my territory. I make the rules here. "People like you, reeking of poverty, ought to be grateful. If you dirty my leather couch, selling the both of you wouldn't even cover the cost." Charlie shook with rage. I just smiled. Since when had a gym I'd handed off to my wife, Cassidy Moore, to run under her name, become someone else's engagement-gift plaything?

A month before my wedding, I've discovered a series of suspicious transfers made by my fiancee, Irene Lambert. The recipient is none other than her first love, Blake Chandler—the man she has never truly forgotten. For seven years, she has sent him 50 thousand dollars every month without fail. When I place the bank statements before Irene and demand an explanation, she barely looks up from her work. "Blake injured his right hand saving me. The money is simply compensation for what happened. Don't worry, money's the only thing I'll ever give him," she says evenly. I refuse to let the matter go, but even my friends urge me to overlook it. "It's only 50 thousand dollars. With how wealthy Irene is, she'd consider a watch at that price too cheap to buy for you. As a man, you've got to be the bigger person," they argue. With our wedding only a month away and seven years of history between us, I finally give in. That is, until I discover that our housekeeper, Olivia Harper, prepares a child's meal every afternoon and delivers it to Irene's office. When I confront Olivia, she stares at me in confusion. "Isn't that your child, Mr. Sanford? He's already around five or six years old—and he calls Ms. Lambert 'Mommy'."

When Lisa from Human Resources informs me that I'm being laid off, she casually mentions one more thing. According to her, I'm not a company employee—I'm just a temporary contractor. I freeze for a moment before nearly bursting into laughter. After dedicating three years of my life to the company, I discover that I have no employment contract, non-compete agreement, or confidentiality clause. To make matters even better, I am the patent applicant for the company's core risk management system, which has generated over a hundred million dollars in revenue. I am also the original owner of the source code repository. The higher-ups tell me to pack up my things and leave that very day, while the director who got his position through connections slams his hand on the table. "You're nothing without this company," he declares. I look at him and almost feel sorry for him. After all these years, someone has finally reminded me of how much freedom I actually have. Alright then. I'll leave—but I'm taking everything I own with me.

Just after I finish a meeting, the parents' group chat for my daughter's kindergarten suddenly buzzes with activity. Someone shares a viral post. The poster writes, "A daughter is always her daddy's sweetheart. She's already using her allowance to buy her dad a birthday present! I wonder who my gentle, wealthy little princess will marry someday." The one who shares the post adds excitedly in the comments, "She's the one and only successor to the Webb family in Jemton! She's a true heiress!" The parents in the group chat eagerly offer their sycophantic compliments. They can hardly wait to offer their own sons as potential suitors for the little girl. But I'm puzzled. Other than my wife, Lucy Webb, I don't think there is any other family with the surname Webb in Jemton. Then, I open the photo attached to the post and instantly freeze. The sweet little girl smiling as she holds the gift is unmistakably my daughter, Emilia Webb, whom I personally drive to and from kindergarten every single day.

On the day my family buys a new car, everyone excitedly starts making plans for the future. On Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays, they'll drive my brother, Jake Walt, to the science museum. On Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Saturdays, they'll take my mom to the gym. Most importantly, they'll drive my younger sister, Emily Walt, to and from college every day. Even though she's required to live on campus, my parents can't bear to let her commute alone, so they'd rather make the six-mile round trip every single day. They map out everyone's schedule except mine. When I leave for graduate school, I take a rideshare by myself. But after Emily uses my payment account to buy herself a new phone, I no longer have enough money to pay the toll and the driver abandons me at a highway rest stop. Stranded under the blazing sun, I call home, hoping for help. Instead, I'm met with nothing but blame. My parents scold me for inconveniencing them. "We're taking Emily to school. You expect us to turn around and waste all that gas?" My childhood friend, Patrick Green, says I brought it on myself. "I warned you not to go so far away for grad school. This is your own fault." Jake mocks me. "You made good money over the summer, didn't you? You're old enough to figure this out yourself instead of expecting everyone to rescue you." Looking at the money left in my wallet—the rest of my summer earnings already "borrowed" to buy Emily's college supplies—I finally realize the truth. In this family, I'm never treated like a daughter. When the elevator is overloaded, they push me out without hesitation. When the new house's fingerprint lock only allows five users, they give the last spot to Emily's dog instead of me. If there's never been room for me in this family, then it's time to stop trying to force my way in.

On my 20th birthday, I called out toward the living room out of habit, "Chester, Milford, Collin... I'm 20 today. You promised you'd celebrate my every birthday." All that responded to me was silence. On the sofa sat the plush dolls of my brothers and my childhood sweetheart. They sat there with their round eyes open, quietly keeping me company just like they had on so many nights before. Only then did I remember that they had abandoned me long ago. When I was ten, I was diagnosed with kidney disease. My eldest brother brought home a girl from the orphanage, saying that her kidney matched mine and that she was the sister who came to save my life. But before she ever made it to the operating table, she became everyone's new favorite. After chemo, I couldn't eat spicy food, yet my eldest brother cooked spicy Thai and Mexican dishes for every meal. "Lena is going to lose a kidney. What's wrong with letting her eat what she likes now?" When she took a liking to my coming-of-age necklace, my second brother took it off me on the spot and gave it to her. "She's giving you a kidney. Giving her a necklace isn't too much, right?" My childhood sweetheart promised to accompany me to my follow-up appointment, but he broke his word to take her to a concert instead. "She might not have opportunities like this in the future. You can handle one night." Even my life-saving surgery was delayed again and again because she wanted to see the ocean, go skydiving, and chase the Northern Lights. And just because I mentioned that living in a massive house by myself made me scared and that I wanted to go out and play with them, they used it as an excuse to send me away to a rental apartment. The night I moved in, I made three dolls modeled after their appearances. They accompanied me to eat, sleep, and listened to me talk through every bout of pain. Today, I used the last of my savings to buy a second-hand car. I wanted to go see Lake Tahoe, the place we once promised to visit together. And after that, I'd never look back.

After finishing the SATs, my class organized a picnic by the river. Just as everyone was enjoying themselves, Graham Spencer, our class president, suddenly suggested we go for a swim. "Let's experience the thrill of swimming in the middle of roaring river." Several clueless classmates eagerly agreed. Startled, I rushed to stop them. "This stretch of the river used to be an illegal sand-mining site. The riverbed is riddled with deep pits, hidden currents, and whirlpools." Graham only sneered. "You're a swimming champion, yet you're acting like a wuss. Did you buy that championship?" Zara Valentine, the school beauty, raised her phone and started recording me. "Can you believe this? Our school's swimming champion is actually a total coward. What a joke." Fine. If they were all so eager to throw themselves into the river, I'd see their end.

From the day I was born, Mom never treated me like her daughter. I was Catherine Baldwin's older sister, the example Mom used to keep her in line. When Catherine stole ten dollars from Mom's purse to buy stickers, Mom made me stand facing the living room wall all afternoon. Then she pointed at me and told Catherine, "Look at Allison. For every dollar you steal, she stands there for an hour. You do the math." When Catherine refused to eat her vegetables, Mom stopped giving me breakfast for three days. I got so hungry that I snuck into the kitchen and ate cold leftovers straight from the fridge. When Mom caught me, she didn't yell. She simply turned to Catherine and said, "See how hungry Allison is? Keep being picky, and you'll be the one who goes without food next time." When Catherine started dating in middle school, and a teacher caught her passing notes to a boy in class, Mom sent me to the school in her place. She made me stand in the main office and read Catherine's written apology aloud in front of the teachers. Halfway through, my voice gave out. Mom snatched the paper from my hands and finished reading it herself, slowly and clearly, making sure everyone heard every word. Afterward, she pulled me into the hallway and said, "Catherine has a reputation to protect. I couldn't let her be humiliated in front of her teachers. You're her sister. It's your job to take the fall for her." I was 15, and Catherine was 13. By then, I had already been punished for her, gone hungry for her, and humiliated myself for her. It took me years to realize that was only the beginning. The worst was yet to come.

Everyone believed I was the perfect good girl. Yet no one knew that every night, right under the nose of Blackport's most ruthless mafia Don, I was tangled up with his heir and my own stepbrother. It was not until the fifth year of our secret affair that I overheard him speaking with his right‑hand man, Carlo Vitale, through the cracked door of the casino's top‑floor office. "Boss, you deflowered your own stepsister when she was 18. You've been stringing her along for 5 years, and you're still not going to make it official?" My heart clenched. Quietly, desperately, I waited for Giuliano Falcone's answer. Giuliano flicked his custom Zippo open and shut, smiling like he did not care. "You said it yourself. She's a dirty little secret. How would you even bring that into the light? "If it weren't for getting back at her harlot of a mother for destroying my family, I never would've touched her. "I've already proposed to Viviana. Only a Moretti Principessa is fit to stand as the Madre of the Falcone family." I did not break down. I did not storm in and demand answers. I pretended I had heard nothing, turned around, and walked into the darkness. On the day of Giuliano and Viviana Moretti's wedding, he stationed his suited Soldati at every entrance to the venue, terrified I would show up and cause a scene. What he did not know was that I was already sitting in first class on a flight to Bellavista, and I was never coming back.

Everyone thought my sister, Nyssa, was the cursed one, except me. I knew that on my eighteenth birthday, Death would come to claim me for the Underworld. I was the Dark Elf Death had chosen. But to protect my sister, my family chose to sacrifice me. My parents abandoned me, my kin reviled me, and Caelum, the elven prince I had loved for centuries, chose to stand by Nyssa's side. They said I was a harbinger of disaster. They told me to offer Nyssa my blessing. Little did they know, they were pushing Death's true acolyte toward her awakening. When the Night of the Shattered Moon arrived, I finally met my fate. I died in the mortal realm and was reborn as the Underworld's new emissary. And those who once hurt me would come to pray for my forgiveness, trapped in the eternal punishment I had wrought. I was no longer a girl who waited for love.

To escape my father's constant matchmaking, I moved into Westbridge Towers in Ashford, Franklin, a building my family developed. After I agreed to pick up an elderly neighbor's grandson from preschool once, she began telling everyone that I was the child's father. "He abandoned my daughter after getting her pregnant, and now he regrets it. "Yesterday he even volunteered to pick up his son because he wants to make amends." Furious, I posted footage from the camera outside my door to expose the lie. "You begged me to pick up the boy. How did that become proof that I fathered him? "I've barely met your daughter. The child can't possibly be mine. Spread one more lie and I'll call the police." The old woman glared at me and knocked the phone from my hand with her cane. "Marrying my daughter would be the best thing that ever happened to you. The property manager is practically family. "Don't be ungrateful. One word from me, and you'll be thrown out of this building." The entire building belongs to my family, and she still thinks she can evict me?