단편 작품 & 소설

I, my best friend, and my girlfriend are in our fourth year at the same law firm. People jokingly call us "The Three Musketeers". When colleagues egg us on to play "Never Have I Ever", my best friend, Owen Steele, is the first to speak. "Never have I ever been Chelsea's best partner." I respond with a smile, "Never have I ever been her live-in boyfriend." Owen doesn't back down. "Never have I ever been driven to and from work by her." My smile freezes, and I fold one finger down. For four whole years, my girlfriend, Chelsea Moran, always uses different work schedules as an excuse to make me take the bus and the subway. Owen ignores my pale face and continues, "Never have I ever talked with Chelsea for eight hours a day. Never have I ever stayed up all night with her three times a week. Never have I ever bought the red lingerie she wears." The whole room erupts in laughter and then falls into an eerie silence. By now, I only have one finger left standing. Owen leans in close and suddenly smiles. "Never have I ever had her meet my parents instead of yours on Independence Day." My breath catches. I turn to look at Chelsea, who remains expressionless. No wonder she doesn't answer my calls and even breaks the industry taboo by turning off her phone for 24 hours. It turns out she is off meeting her new in-laws. My fingers are all down now, and I walk away right in front of Chelsea.

In my eighth year married into the Cavell household, my wife brought home her first love. He was polished, good-looking, and knew exactly when to be bold and when to hold back. Despite the mountain of debt on his shoulders, his warmth and charm easily won over every last member of the family. My wife rekindled things with him and hung onto his every word. My own son and daughter decided that this kind, attentive man would make a better father than me. I was not heartbroken. If anything, I was glad. It meant that my storyline in this novel had finally run its course.

My sister-in-law, Denise Snyder, sends a 60-second voice message in the family group chat with all my relatives in it. Through tears, she accuses me of being a bitch who destroyed her daughter's future. She claims I abused my power at work, deliberately kicking her daughter, Erica Cortez, off the final list of new hires and replacing her with someone else closer to me. All my aunts and uncles in the group chat gather like vultures, lashing out at me and calling me names. They flood the group chat with hundreds of messages. Even my elder brother, Simon Cortez, who has always been a man of few words, tags me and demands an explanation. I look at the insults constantly pouring in and feel all the blood drain from me. Firstly, I'm not working in the HR Department in charge of recruiting the new hires. Secondly, and most laughably of all, Erica never even made it past the first round of interviews.

In my sophomore year of college, my family went bankrupt. My mother was diagnosed with cancer, while my father was diagnosed with depression. Without hesitation, I dropped out of college and took on the responsibility of supporting them. I went from being the privileged heir to the Lawson family fortune to an exhausted laborer barely scraping by almost overnight. My skin grew tan from working under the sun. My hands became covered in calluses. Eventually, prolonged exposure to toxic levels of formaldehyde at one of my jobs gave me leukemia. I refused treatment and kept the diagnosis from my parents. Instead, I worked harder than ever. I was not afraid of dying. I was only afraid that I would die before I had saved enough for their surgeries. One morning, after coughing up a mouthful of blood, I took a cab straight to work. Just as I had intended, I died at my desk, leaving my parents with a strong claim for compensation from the company. However, after my death, I saw them living happily in a luxury home downtown, doting on a little girl who looked about ten years old. It turned out that my family had never gone bankrupt and that neither of my parents had ever been sick. The entire ordeal had been nothing more than a test they had devised for me.

Five years after Liam DeLuise went bankrupt and skipped town, he suddenly returned, richer than ever. While I was waiting in line at the hospital pharmacy to pick up lifesaving medication, he kidnapped my eight-year-old son, Teddy Molson. He called me on video. I immediately recognized the abandoned industrial park on the west side of town behind him. On the screen, Teddy, who had a heart condition, was suspended over a pool of water inside an abandoned warehouse. His skin had turned purple from the cold. Liam sneered into the camera. “You really are one hell of a friend, Dave! When I went bankrupt, you refused to help me and even stole my woman! Bet you never thought I’d make it back on top, did you? “Now, I’m going to make you feel what it’s like to lose the person you love most!” He raised the metal pipe, ready to break Teddy’s knee with it. My eyes burned with panic as I screamed at the screen. “Don’t touch him, Liam! He’s your son!”

In the short time I'm away at the restroom, the waiter has already cleared half the dishes on the table. My girlfriend and best friend move to a two-seat table by the window, sitting across from each other, completely engrossed in conversation. Neither of them even notices that I've left and come back. "I'm flying to Portside City next week. This hotel has a rooftop pool. Are you in, Captain Clark?" Dylan Humphrey's voice is bright. "If you like it, then sure. It could be a nice getaway." I freeze. That is the same hotel I had shared in our group chat a month ago. Back then, Hayley Clark had replied with only three words, "Stop following trends." Bitterness rises in my throat. Suddenly, I'm reminded of our high school graduation night. The three of us stay up late talking about our futures. Hayley says she wants to become a pilot, and Dylan swears he will be the most handsome flight attendant in the sky. Then, they both turn to me, their eyes shining with expectation. I say, "Then, I'll be an air traffic controller. No matter how high you two fly, I'll be the one guiding you." Now, watching them sit across from each other, chatting and smiling, I suddenly feel disheartened. I don't want to keep waiting for them to land anymore. My control tower is shutting down.

While celebrating our tenth year anniversary, my boyfriend, Archie Cullen, and I are caught in a sandstorm warning on the grasslands. Instead of staying with me, he leaves me behind to save the equipment in the tent. Having worked with Archie for years, I know he cares about his work more than anything. The storm rattles the gear, and a falling saddle strikes me, leaving me in too much pain to go after him. I could only pray through the night for us and for our work. When I finally return to the studio, I find my most important camera lens and hard drive destroyed. Meanwhile, he's carefully wiping down Sharon Thatcher's walkie-talkie, looking relieved. "Thank goodness we weren't in the worst-hit area. I did everything I could and managed to save the work Sharon and I had poured our hearts into. "She comes from a renowned family of artists and has a great degree. I'm very confident about this competition." Archie is always full of praise for her. Whenever the two of them talk about art and filmmaking, I can barely get a single word in. I look down at my injured left arm. "What about me? What about everything I poured my heart into?" I ask Archie. He looks up at me in confusion. "You're angry over a broken hard drive? Everything you shoot looks about the same anyway. Just shoot it again. "Besides, you're fine, aren't you?" Suddenly, I have nothing left to say. I look up and hold back my tears. So in his mind, what they create is real art, something worth risking everything for, even if it means leaving me in danger. If that's how it is, I'll enter the film competition on my own. From now on, my work will never carry his name again.

Anna Stark spent ten years finally winning Neil Irons's heart—an anonymous admirer bearing unrequited love, now at last Neil's fiancée whom he personally acknowledged. And yet, just two weeks before the wedding, she gave up. "Hey, chief," she said calmly, putting the filled form on the supervisor's desk. "I'm volunteering to transfer to the northwestern research center—just add me to the list." The supervisor looked up in shock behind his computer. "Wait, I thought you were marrying Neil next month!"

I went home for the holiday season. However, the most annoying person in the family, Karen, had shown up with her brat of a son, Toby. Karen was the wife of my father's younger brother. Every limited-edition figure and model kit in my display case had been used as toys, taken apart, and smashed to pieces. I was so angry I almost blacked out from my blood pressure rising. Karen cut me off first. "Oh, our VIP is finally awake? He's just a kid, and he does not know any better. Speaking of which, Toby is turning eight next year. Now that you're rich, you should at least give him a big present, right? Eight thousand dollars has a nice ring to it." My parents had a dark look on their faces as I forced my anger down. "Sure, Karen. That amount is nothing, but we need to be proper with the timing, right? I promise I'll give him a big one on the actual New Year's Day!" Then I took out my phone and saved the invoices for everything he had destroyed so I could print them out later. You wanted a big present, right? Fine. I would make it a big one!

The day I was admitted to Crownstone College, my parents threw a thirty-table banquet to celebrate my younger brother, Jason. There was a banner across the hall. [Congratulations to Jason on getting into vocational school. You've brought honor to the family.] When it was time to cut the cake, Jason made a wish in front of all the guests. "I hope my sister gets married soon and stops wasting the family's money." The relatives raised their glasses and praised him for being so sensible. Dad beamed with pride. "A boy who learns a trade has a solid future. Unlike a girl, no matter how much she studies, she'll end up getting married anyway." I sat alone in the corner. The doctor had diagnosed me with severe depression and warned that I couldn't handle any more emotional shocks. My parents said I was bad luck. They told me not to have another episode and ruin my brother's celebration. I nodded, picked up my medical report, and walked to the rooftop of the hotel. Right then, my phone rang. On the other end were my parents from eighteen years ago. My young Dad laughed through tears. "It's a girl! We have a daughter!" My young Mom's voice trembled. "Sweetheart, I just gave birth to you. "Did our child grow up feeling loved by us throughout all eighteen years?" Listening to the applause from the banquet hall below, I laughed until I could barely breathe. "Yeah, you loved your child very much. "It just wasn't me." "What do you mean? Jess, don't scare me–" I smiled in relief but didn't answer her. I could hear fireworks from below. It sounded like they were celebrating my disappearance from this family. I closed my eyes, leaned forward, and jumped.

My dad owned a boxing gym. He gave me one rule: If you're right, don't back down. Then I turned eighteen, and my biological parents—Jonah Gautier and Diana Saun—showed up. Apparently, I was the son they'd lost years ago. Dad always taught me to remember what people did for me. They gave me life. That had to count for something. So I grabbed Dad's beat-up canvas duffel and headed to the Gautier estate. Liam, their adopted son, popped up from the couch with a fake-sweet smile. "Troy, rough trip?" I raised the bag. "Nope." Gary, the butler, showed me to my room. An hour later, I came back downstairs. Liam clung to my biological mom, Diana Saun, tears streaming down his face, a handprint bright on his cheek. The second he saw me, he flinched. "Troy, why'd you hit me?" Every head snapped my way. I walked over and lifted my hand. A sharp whoosh cut through the room. Everyone froze. My hand stopped inches from his face. I spread my fingers and held my hand next to the mark on his face. Ten years in the gym had hardened my fists. Thick calluses covered my knuckles, and my hand was way bigger than the handprint on his cheek. "Does my hand look anything like that?" His fingers twitched against his cheek. "Couldn't even bring yourself to hit that hard? Next time, have someone else do it." I dusted off my hands. "When you're done with the performance, let me know dinner's ready."

Whenever people from Meyruelle praised the 'beauty of the century', everyone would burst into laughter at once, scoffing. "Not only is she gorgeous, but she has the patience of a saint! She’s even raised two children for her husband’s mistress!" So when I finally asked for a divorce, not a single person took me seriously. David Thompson didn't even blink, casually tossing a check in front of me. "Stop making a scene and go buy yourself a couple of bags." My oldest son didn't even look up from his video game. "Stop bothering Dad. If you're going to get the hell out, just do it. Stop faking it." My youngest son called his biological mother directly. "That old witch looks like she's finally leaving. Mom, get ready!" Even the house staff shook their heads, warning me to stop playing hard to get. However, facing everyone's mockery, I didn't feel any sadness or anger. I simply dialed the phone number I knew by heart. "Muriel, our ten-year agreement is up. The debt I owed you for saving my sister's life is officially paid off."

When I found out my wife was pregnant with her lover’s baby, I thought I’d lose my mind just like the first time I caught her cheating, smashing up the whole house like a lunatic. Instead, I looked at our antique vase and realized it was far too expensive to break over them. It just wasn't worth it. Later, walking past a bakery, I thought seeing her buying baby supplies with Joseph would ruin my appetite. Yet, to my surprise, the cake I bought tasted better than usual. Before going to bed, that familiar dark urge to swallow a handful of sleeping pills crept up on me again. I thought I was about to lose my mind and take the most drastic measures to get back at that despicable couple when my therapist sent a message, reminding me once more to go outside and get some fresh air. So, I headed south to soak in the sun and feel the ocean breeze. For twenty-seven whole days, I didn’t think about them once. That was until my wife, Sarah, called. “There are three days left in our divorce waiting period. Don’t forget to come back so we can finalize the paperwork. “Don’t worry, Daniel. This is just temporary. After I have the baby, we’ll remarry. You know you’re the only one I love.” Only after her reminder did I remember the divorce was even a thing. This time, though, I was exhausted. I didn’t want to play their games anymore. So, with the ocean breeze on my face, I said almost without thinking, “How about this time, we end it for good?”

My girlfriend, Aria Zimmer, only agreed to marry me after I transferred one million dollars to her. My parents took the train from our hometown to discuss the marriage arrangements. We had to wait for three hours at the restaurant before Aria finally answered the phone. “What’s the rush? My mom’s facial treatment isn’t finished yet. You small-town folks always make such a big deal out of everything.” I felt so dejected that I even forgot to hang up. That was when I heard her mother, Jesicca, speak on the other end of the line. “Good job, sweetie. That’s exactly how you keep him in line. Otherwise, once you’re married, he’ll forget who’s the boss. Besides, he has already given you every penny he has, and you’re pregnant. He can’t run away now.” Through the blaring speakerphone, my parents lowered their heads in embarrassment. Out of nowhere, a desperate child’s voice echoed in my mind. “Dad, don’t marry her! And don’t let her give birth to me!” I shuddered and looked around frantically. “I’m your future daughter. I’ve returned to the past. Back then, you gave in and married Mom. Her mom hated that I was a girl, so she locked me outside in the middle of winter until I froze to death. Grandpa tried to stand up for me, but they broke his legs too. Dad, run!” After the child’s voice faded, I broke out in a cold sweat. At that moment, my father’s eyes welled up in tears as he tremblingly took my arm and said, “Philip, let’s just go home. We may not have much, but we can’t let ourselves be treated like this.” I took my parents’ hands and said resolutely, “Okay. Mom, Dad, let’s go home tomorrow. I’m calling off the wedding.”

Late one night, I was curled up in bed scrolling through anonymous posts on my tablet when one caught my eye. "My daughter scored 1560 on her SAT, but she's determined to leave home for an out-of-state university. How can I get her to choose a local school instead and stay with me forever?" The comments tore into the parent for being selfish and controlling. However, the original poster insisted she'd sacrificed everything to raise her daughter alone and couldn't bear the thought of growing old with no one by her side. Amidst the barrage of criticism, I saw the top-rated reply. "These high school seniors won't see it coming. Wait until she's asleep, take her phone, use the verification code to reset her application portal password, and change all her college choices two minutes before the deadline. "Once the admissions results are finalized, fake a medical emergency and end up in the ER. She'll be too guilty to ask for a gap year." As someone who had also just scored high on the exams this year, I was shaking with anger. I was about to leave a furious reply when I instinctively reached for the phone charging beside my pillow. It was gone.

My son, Tyler Youngblood, has a failing kidney. He needs a kidney transplant. My wife, Ruth Lister, asks me to donate one of mine. On the day of the surgery, I turn off my phone and disappear. My entire family frantically searches for me, and I don't show up until four hours later. Because of the delay, Tyler misses the optimal treatment window and tragically dies. My family accuses me of being heartless and stirs up public opinion against me, saying I am unfit to be a father. I leisurely sip my coffee and say, "It's not like his mother is dead. Why didn't she donate her kidney instead?"

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.

On our wedding day, right as the officiant told us to exchange rings, Charlotte suddenly leaned in and whispered, "I’ve been sleeping with your best friend." I stood frozen at the altar, completely paralyzed, yet she didn't even blink. She said it so casually, as if she were just talking about the weather. "While you were trying on your tuxedo, we were going at it in the fitting room right next to yours. "He couldn't hold back a groan, and you actually thought he was sick and spent twenty minutes checking on him. "By the time I stepped out to stand next to you, my legs were shaking so hard." All the blood drained from my face. I turned toward my best friend standing below the altar, and he beamed back at me, raising his glass in a proud toast. Just an hour ago, he had slapped my shoulder and told me I was the luckiest guy alive. "Even earlier today, while you were getting your hair styled, I was sitting in his lap. I got so nervous I bit his lip until it bled." Charlotte looked down at the ring resting in her hand before saying indifferently, "Dean, now you know everything. Whether you still want to go through with this wedding is up to you."

After I was diagnosed with delusional disorder, I kept seeing images of my wife cheating on me. My psychiatrist told me to avoid intimacy for a while. To ease the symptoms, I started sleeping in a separate room. Three years later, a doctor told me I'd recovered. I went home to share the good news, only to find my wife tangled up with my closest friend on the living room couch. I assumed the delusions were back. As I turned toward the bedroom, my friend asked in a low, hoarse voice, "Does it get you off more, knowing Declan's right here? "Aren't you afraid he'll file for divorce?" Sabrina laughed, contemptuous. "We'll tell him the delusions are back. It wouldn't be the first time." Standing a few feet away, I felt like I'd dropped through the ice.

I stand before the grave of my late wife, Casey Hill, having repaid her debts for five years. When I return home, I realize that our dog, Pudding, has gone missing. It is the only memory Casey has left me. I search everywhere frantically, eventually finding it hovering between life and death in an alley. Standing at the side is a girl. She points at Pudding and laughs gleefully to her friends. "Are you guys seeing this? This little guy is tough. We've played with it for so long, and it's still breathing!" I shove her aside and pick it up, my eyes bloodshot. The blood on Pudding's fur makes my heart ache so much I can hardly breathe. The girl utters a yelp as she falls to the ground. Furious and embarrassed, she picks herself up and kicks me hard in the head. "You bastard! How dare you push me for this filthy little beast! Do you know who my mom is?" With my head spinning from the blow, I suddenly hear a woman's voice. "Jenna, what's wrong? Who bullied you?" I snap my head up. There it is, the face I have wished to see in my dreams for the past five years.