Kurzgeschichten & Romane

I spent four hundred thousand on the house I bought for our wedding. The whole place ran on a smart home system. On the day I moved in, my girlfriend locked every door and window from her phone, then turned on the gas. Someone pounding on the door woke me. I fought my way out with everything I had. After I was taken to the hospital, the doctor said a few more minutes would have left me in a vegetative state. In the ICU, my girlfriend called to complain. "Couldn't you have held on a little longer? Who gave you permission to run?! Evan was doing a medical experiment. He wanted to see how long a person could survive in a room full of carbon monoxide." She paused, her voice full of annoyance. "We were even going to ignite the gas and see what would happen. Now that you ran off, the whole thing was wasted." After I was discharged, I went back to the house, only to find that the smart lock no longer recognized me. My girlfriend called at just the right moment. "Evan needs a place for his experiment. Your place is big, so let him use it for now. Go rent somewhere else and don't bother him. All of this is for medical progress, so try to see the bigger picture. Don't be so narrow-minded." I said nothing. After I hung up, I went straight to a real estate agency and listed the place for an urgent sale. The moment the money came in, I texted my childhood friend whom I hadn't seen in years. [Do you have a house ready for after the wedding? If you do, let's get married.]

I'm Julian Johnson, and I love cake. My mommy, Charlotte Davis, brings me a small cake every day after work. My daddy, Peter Johnson, buys a full set of ovens and baking tools. For my sake, he then patiently learns how to bake cakes. I use to think I'm the luckiest kid in the world. That is, until the day my parents get divorced, and the man who comes to pick up Mommy turns out to be the bakery owner, Larry Patterson. Daddy suddenly whips around and glares at me with bloodshot eyes. "This is all your fault! If it weren't for you and your constant cake cravings, your mother never would've had an affair!" He stretches out his burn-scarred hands and shrieks hysterically, "My hands have never been free of wounds, all because I kept making cakes for you. But how do you two repay me? You're both convinced that whatever comes from outside tastes better!" Daddy strikes me hard with the baking tray. I bite my lip tightly, not daring to cry out. That night, Daddy brings home a little boy, Dustin Decker. Despite the pain racking my body, I drop to my knees and plead for Daddy to forgive me. "Daddy, I'm sorry. Please don't abandon me. I promise I'll never eat cake again!" Daddy slaps me several times in fury. Then, still not satisfied, he throws me into the large oven. "Don't call me that! I'm not your father! If you love cake so much, then stay in there and think about what you've done! You and your tramp of a mother both deserve to die!" After Daddy slams the door and leaves, Dustin skips cheerfully over to the oven and smugly presses the switch. "From now on, your daddy is mine!" The oven starts up. The temperature climbs around me, and yet I smile. Maybe this is for the best. At least Daddy can finally be happy now.

When I was six, my older brother, Garrett Johnston, died in an accident. Not long after, Dad finds a stray kitten with a marking on its wrist that matches Garrett's birthmark. From that day on, the cat becomes my brother. Dad takes down my desk to make room for a luxury litter box, leaving me to do my homework on the dining table. He tears down our bunk bed and replaces it with a cat tree, banishing me to a bed made of stacked cardboard boxes on the balcony. Dad spares no expense on premium cat food, treats, clothes, and toys, while I get nothing at all. Finally, I pluck up the courage to ask Dad, "Garrett and I used to share everything. How come he gets it all now?" Dad just snaps at me. "Do you have any idea how hard Garrett worked to come back to me? He's just a cat now! Why are you still fighting with him?" But Dad, why are you crying again when I listen to you and stop fighting with Garrett?

On the day I married Vera Barrymore, her precious first love got drugged and woke up missing a kidney. Vera disappeared for three days. When she came back, she brought Sebastian Cooper home with her, freshly diagnosed with depression. I swallowed my heartbreak and agreed to help her take care of him. I had to coax him to sleep every night and feed him one spoonful at a time. It wasn't until she asked me to give him one of our children that I finally snapped. That same night, Sebastian slipped me a fatal dose of sleeping pills. By the time Vera found me, I'd already stopped breathing. She held my body and sobbed, and still chose to cover for him. "This is what we owe him. If there's a next life, I swear I'll make it up to you." When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day Vera first asked if I'd agree to help her take care of Sebastian.

“Mr. Mike Atkinson, the payment on your loan is past due.” The collection agent spoke in a flat voice, as though she were reading out just another routine notice. However, I had never taken out a loan in my life. After pressing her for details, I learned that my parents had used my personal information and credit history to take out a loan in my name for my younger brother. They had forged my signature on every document. I did not immediately drive back to my parents’ house and confront them. I left the family group chat. I returned to my small apartment and spent a long time thinking about what to do. When I finally called home, my mother burst into tears and berated me. “You’re his older brother. What’s wrong with taking on a little debt for him?” I ended the call, switched my phone to silent mode, and stared out at the night. I had nothing more to say to her.

Four years into our long-distance relationship, I am on a video call with my girlfriend, Vivian Selby, when her study partner, Sam Caldecott, walks into the frame. He presses his lips together before saying, "Ryan, Vivian still hasn't finished her practice questions yet." I freeze for a second, and before I can tell him we'll only talk for ten minutes, he speaks again. "Oh, by the way, I deleted those celebrity gossip articles you sent her earlier. They're nothing but distractions that keep her from her work." He smiles faintly and adds, "Hope you don't mind." Vivian lowers her head and keeps flipping through her textbook without saying a word. I sit there in shock, thinking about all the things I've sent her before—sunset photos, pictures of street food, and the new game console I bought. She's never replied to any of them. So, they've all been deleted before she even sees them. My chest tightens, and a suffocating heaviness settles over me. Vivian finally looks up and says, "Sam was just trying to help keep me focused. There's nothing wrong with that." Sam suddenly leans close to the screen and lowers his voice. "I heard your SAT score wasn't exactly impressive, while Vivian was one of the top scorers." He pauses, as if choosing his words carefully. "She always says she wants to go to grad school in the same city as you. But given the gap between you two, she has to make compromises and lower her expectations." After saying that, he steps back beside Vivian and gently pats her on the shoulder, saying, "Don't worry. I'll be here with you." Vivian turns her head and nods at him. The look in her eyes is warm and natural, as if she has long been used to having him by her side. My throat tightens. A suffocating pressure slowly builds in my chest. "Get some rest early then," I say, forcing myself to stay composed before ending the call. I stare at the last message I sent her. "It's raining today. Don't forget to put on a jacket." There's still no reply. But this silence isn't new. It is the same silence I've grown used to over the past four years. It turns out she's always there, just never for me.

After his eighteenth failed attempt to divorce me, Jesse Pellam suddenly stopped bringing it up. Before that, every single attempt had ended in complete humiliation and chaos. I had harmed myself, threatened to jump from a building, and plastered the company lobby with intimate photos of him and his female assistant, Gianna Seyfert. At a press conference, I had even publicly stripped Gianna, leaving her with PTSD. Jesse had every reason to despise me; however, he never mentioned divorcing me again. He came home on time every day and gave me full access to his phone. He checked in with me every hour to update me on his whereabouts. Even during his business trips, we stayed connected through video calls around the clock. But I still could not shake the feeling that something was wrong. Every day, I pressed him for an answer, asking why he no longer wanted a divorce. “Haven’t I done enough?” he asked. Yes, he was better than ever, almost too good to be true. It was not until he caught me following him again that he finally admitted the truth. With exhaustion evident in his eyes, he said, “I received a phone call from my future self, ten years from now. He told me that if I divorced you, I would regret it.”

On the day of my daughter’s graduation trip, I ended up late because of work. When I rushed to the airport, I was stopped at the counter. “Sir, we don’t have your ticket details in the system.” I stood stunned for two seconds. I called my wife Sue Jenkins a dozen times before she finally picked up. “Did you buy a ticket for me?” It sounded very noisy on her end and her voice kept being cut off. “I accidentally filled in Clement’s name instead of yours, so I thought I’d just bring him along on the trip. I was so busy boarding the plane just now, I forgot to tell you. If you want to join us, take the next flight in…” My daughter’s voice suddenly sounded through the phone. “Dad, just do your work in peace. It’s good enough to have Mom and Clement with me on my graduation trip.” The call got cut off. The airport was bustling with people, but I stood rooted to the ground for a long time with my luggage case behind me. Sorrow filled my heart. When I was young, my mom was always biased toward my brother. She would always tell me that the elder brother should always give in to his younger brother. After growing up and having my own family, my wife took a liking for my younger brother. Even my daughter liked pestering him on a daily basis. I looked at the itinerary I spent many nights preparing. Exhaustion filled me. I picked up my phone and sent the resignation email I had typed out long ago to my company. Then, I booked a one-way flight ticket scheduled seven days later. Since I was always excluded, I decided to take the initiative to leave.

The first thing I do after regaining my memories and finding my family is share the good news with my wife, Christine Blackwell. However, I discover that the woman who has shared my bed for three years is already someone else's wife. The marriage certificate she registered with me three years ago is a forgery. The real marriage certificate is the one she secretly registered with Edison Whitman, the factory director's son. She tells me that Edison comes from a far better background. As a distant relative of the Carrington family in Regalton, he can provide opportunities that I never could. She tells me to stop making a scene. What she doesn't know is that the Carrington family in Regalton which she speaks of… is actually my family.

My mother loved obedience tests. I told her I couldn't eat ginger, and she put it in every single meal. "Who's allergic to ginger? You're just being picky." For my eighteenth birthday she went out and bought half a ton of it, then made an all-ginger banquet and a bottle of homemade ginger perfume. She looked at me, pleased with herself. "Ginger cures everything. I'm doing this for your own good." "Only a spoiled kid refuses ginger. I minced it all up this time. Let's see you pick it out now." My mother was delighted. As far as she was concerned, the test had worked. What she didn't know was that I'd never lied to her. My ginger allergy was severe. Once I'd eaten or breathed in that much of it, the symptoms would build over the next two hours, and they could kill me.

The day they told me it was terminal, my girlfriend showed up in a wedding dress and got down on her knees beside my hospital bed to propose. She said, "Even if you've only got three months, I want to be your wife for those three months." The video did millions of views, and she became the most devoted girlfriend the internet had ever seen. But I knew I didn't have long, and I couldn't stand to drag her down with me. So I quietly stopped every drug keeping me alive and signed everything I owned over to her. I passed out from the pain most nights, my skin broke open and wept, and I swallowed all of it. All I wanted was for the rest of her life to be easy. Then, the night I signed the last of the transfer papers, half conscious, I heard my parents crying outside the room. "I know we wanted him to learn, but this drug is destroying him." My mother could barely get it out. She'd found the bloody tissues I'd hidden in my bedding too many times. And my fiancee, Vivienne Whitfield, said coldly, "If it doesn't hurt, he'll never agree to let Connor come home. "So we told him he had cancer and put him through chemo. Once Connor's back, the Whitfields can keep Gabriel for the rest of his life, even if he never walks again." Connor was the fake heir, the boy swapped for me all those years ago. My one condition for coming home had been that he leave. Off the antidote, my lungs kicked up another clot of blood. What none of them knew was simple. I didn't have much time left to keep playing this out with them.

While verifying the numbers for next month’s mortgage, I opened the shared Notes folder my husband and I kept on iCloud. I stumbled upon a hidden folder titled “100 things to get Ava out of Clyde”. The list was extensive. “1. Tell Dawn the budget for the outreach program’s been cut. Use the money put aside for the SUV to help Ava run her own bed and breakfast. “2. She has her eye on the custom platinum necklace. Place an order tomorrow.” I stared at my mobile screen, my blood running cold. Mike had spent the past year working in a remote community. When I found myself in the ER with a high fever, Mike simply told me, “Reception’s terrible out here. Just drink plenty of fluids.” I probed him with a text. “Babe, can you pick me up a silver bracelet while you’re in Black Mountain next week?” Mike was quick to respond. “There’s nothing around here but farms and dirt roads. Stop asking for expensive stuff. I’m busy.” Minutes later, I watched the note update in real time. “3. Dawn wants a silver bracelet, but I can’t get her one because every jeweler within a hundred miles is busy finishing Ava’s one-of-a-kind jewelry pieces.” With my eyes glued to the screen, I chuckled. Not voicing any issues, I simply tapped on the family relocation consent form tied to his transfer request and declined it. Mike sent a voice note right there and then; his tone of voice weary and dismissive. “Babe, I know this assignment has been hard. When I come home, why don’t we have the wedding we never got to have?”

In the fifth year of our marriage, my firefighter husband, Mike Anderson, who never had the time to have a wedding ceremony with me, suddenly found time to do so. On the day of the ceremony, I could not contact Mike at all. It all became clear when I saw the video that had been sent into the firefighter family members’ group chat. His junior, Mia Scott was holding his arm as he received a heroic award from the mayor. Everyone in the group chat was making envious remarks. [Chief Anderson’s wife is so beautiful. She doesn’t look like a regular house wife like my husband claimed to be.] [That’s right, she looks so elegant and poised. She must be a great wife to Chief Anderson.] My rough hands were trembling. I was just about to tell them I was Mike’s wife, when I heard a loud explosion from my kitchen. As the searing heat consumed me, I called him for help. However, he interrupted me impatiently. “Why are you bothering me? I lied to you about the wedding ceremony because I was afraid of you coming up with such nonsense. “Mia’s father died because he saved me, so I let her accompany me to receive the award as my wife. Isn’t that reasonable?” I was stunned. Then, he hung up on me.

In the seventh year of our marriage, Jenna Birch is finally accepted by the powerful Birch family as their long-lost, illegitimate daughter. But inheriting the family fortune comes with one condition—she must carry a child for her late sister's widower, Zach Corey, to continue both family bloodlines. Jenna swears she will never forget the humiliation Zach once inflicted on her. She insists she'll only stay by his side long enough to make him suffer before casting him out of the Birch family for good. Instead, she drifts farther away from us. She comes home later each night, and Annie and I are no longer a priority. Then, six months later, she announces her marriage to Zach without ever telling us. Looking at the wedding photos, Annie asks innocently, "Why is Mommy lying in Mr. Corey's arms?" I wrap my arms around my little girl, my heart breaking for the child who has no idea what's happening. "Because she has a new family now. It's time for us to leave."

I was the last tiger left on Rocky Mountain. For love, I ignored everyone's objections and married the sweetest, most simple-minded doe in the forest. After ten grueling months of pregnancy that nearly cost her her life, my wife finally gave birth… To a chubby orange tabby kitten. Evelyn, my adorably clueless wife, was completely smitten. Cradling the little orange fluffball inside her coat, she flashed me her usual innocent smile. "Honey, what should we name our son?" I stared at the plump orange kitten, peacefully purring in her arms, and remained silent for a long time, until… "Divorce." Evelyn's ears shot upright and twitched three times. "H-Honey... what did you just say?" I roared so loudly that dust rained down from the rafters. "I said this marriage is over! I want a divorce!"

On the day our couple channel hit thirty million followers, the milestone video was supposed to be my official debut on camera. I woke up at five in the morning to do my makeup and tried on a dozen different dresses. However, right before the cameras rolled, Julian stopped me. "Willow, let's have Evangeline do it instead. She's just more camera-ready. The fans will love her." Evangeline was my best friend. I stood frozen for a long time, but in the end, I simply nodded. From that day on, Julian and Evangeline played a romantic couple on screen for three years. I stood behind the lens, writing their scripts, setting up their lighting, and editing every single frame. I watched the comment section explode day after day. [They look so deeply in love! My favorite ship ever!] And I watched Julian hold Evangeline's hand with more and more ease. Until the night of our three-year anniversary stream, when the host asked them a question live on camera. "When was the exact moment you two felt the strongest spark for each other?" Julian and Evangeline smiled in perfect sync. "The very first day we shot together on camera." In an instant, the live stream chat erupted into wild cheers and screams. Sitting in the dark corner of the studio behind the control monitor, my heart sank. They had spent three years pretending to be in love, and I was the only fool who treated it like an act. As soon as the broadcast wrapped, I logged into the channel dashboard and revoked all my admin access. Then, I opened an email invitation for an overseas film project I had received two weeks ago and accepted it. From now on, I was done writing their love story.

When I receive a summons in the divorce proceedings from my wife, Cora Moore, for the seventh time, I'm having cheese fondue at a restaurant with our daughter, Giselle Moore. The summons appears in front of both of us at the exact same moment. I force a smile and reassure her. "Sweetheart, just hang in there a little longer. This time, I'll definitely win custody of you!" Giselle falls silent for a moment before asking, "Daddy, how much are you planning to sell me for before you'll finally be happy?" I'm taken aback. Before I can say a word, she pulls out a divorce agreement from her backpack and hands it to me. "I know you've been fighting Mommy for me just to extort more money from her. I wrote this agreement on Mommy's behalf. Can you please sign it? "Mommy has it so hard. I wish you'd stop making things difficult for her." The agreement is handwritten by her. It allocates one million dollars to me in the division of assets. At the bottom, a note is added in her childish handwriting. "After accepting the money, you're not allowed to disturb Mommy, Cal, and me from living happily ever after!" Callum Scott is the man Cora has been cheating on me with for the last five years. All of a sudden, I'm filled with the overwhelming urge to laugh. For five long years, I've held my ground against pressure from all sides, refusing to sign the divorce agreement because I want custody of Giselle. To that end, I'm even willing to leave with nothing to my name. However, the daughter I've raised for eight years has come here to help her mother divorce me.

On the day the channel Edith Parker and I run as a couple surpasses 30 million followers, I finally step in front of the camera for the first time as a fan event reward. I woke up at 5:00 am to get styled and try on more than ten suits. But right before filming starts, Edith stops me. She says, "Holden, let Caden appear on camera instead. He looks better on screen. The fans will like him more." Caden Sparks is my best friend. I stand there stunned for a long time, but I eventually nod. From that day on, Edith and Caden pretend to be a couple on camera for three years. I remain behind the camera. I write their scripts, set up the lighting, and edit their videos. I watch the comments flood in again and again. Someone writes, "They really look like they love each other. I'm obsessed!" I also watch Edith grow more comfortable holding Caden's hand. Then, on the three-year anniversary livestream, the host asks them, "What was the moment that made your hearts race the most?" Edith and Caden smile at the same time. "The day we appear on camera together for the first time." At that moment, the entire comment section explodes. And I sit alone in a dark corner, suddenly barely able to breathe. So, for three years, they pretend to be a couple. But I am the only one who still believes that is all it is. After the livestream ends, I remove all my access from the channel dashboard. Then I open the overseas filming invitation sitting in my inbox for half a month. I calmly reply, "I accept." From now on, I won't play a part in their romance anymore.

A man's childhood friend was trapped in an elevator for an hour. The very next day, he locked his own six-year-old daughter inside a suitcase for an entire day and night. Arya Simmons was overseas on a business trip at the time. She could only watch in horror as the suitcase rocked violently through the home surveillance camera. Panic seized her. She immediately called him and demanded, "Have you lost your mind?! Millie's only six! Why would you do this?! Why are you locking her in there?! Get her out now!" "Because if she hadn't been playing with those elevator buttons, Nancy wouldn't have gotten trapped in the elevator," he replied in a chilling, almost threatening voice. "Nancy is claustrophobic! Do you have any idea how terrified she was?" he continued. "That's why that brat needs a lesson she'll never forget. What better way to teach her than to make her go through the same thing?"

After the final monthly exam of senior year, my class gathers at a karaoke lounge to celebrate. Halfway through the party, in the restroom, I receive a mysterious video from Giselle Morris, supposedly from ten years later. Giselle and I have grown up together, and I've had a crush on her for 5 years. In the video, she stands in a wedding dress, her smile gentle and content. "Chris, I'm getting married to Spencer." Then, Spencer York, the most popular guy in our class, appears beside her. Their fingers intertwine as he smiles at the camera. "I hope you find your own true love soon." The screen goes black, leaving me staring at my own tear-filled reflection. After washing my face, I return to the karaoke room. The moment I walk in, the entire class turns toward me. "I told you all he'd cry," Spencer says triumphantly into the microphone. Everyone bursts into laughter. Giselle frowns, stands up, and shoots everyone a cold glance. "Enough." She walks up to me, her voice uneasy. "Spencer asked me to record that video. He improved a lot on this exam, so this was his reward. Don't take it seriously." From behind her, Spencer teases, "Yeah, it was just a joke. Surely, you can take one. Right?" I stand frozen, looking at the face that I've spent five years thinking about, and eventually say nothing. The video is indeed a joke, but little do they know that Giselle and Spencer will actually get married ten years later. And how do I know? Well, I've just come back from the future.