Unattainable Love Cheating 短篇故事與小說

After six years by Archie Valez’s side, everything changed when his uncle died—and Archie took over the family legacy… and with it, the responsibility of caring for his “young” aunt, Betty Cruz, whose age was practically the same as Archie’s. Still, whatever Betty wanted, Archie delivered. I just never thought it would include a baby. Betty said she wanted a baby with the Valez bloodline. And with the uncle gone, Archie was the only one left to do the job. So he gave her that, too. “Just wait a little longer,” he would say to me, “Sabrina. As soon as she’s pregnant.” What started as once a month turned into once a week… Then it became a nightly routine. Of almost eight months that we lived in New York, Archie went to Betty over a hundred times. And she finally got pregnant. Shortly after, the Valez family announced that Archie would be marrying Betty. “Mommy,” my daughter asked softly, climbing onto the couch beside me. Elly—our Elly. My Elly. The daughter Archie never had time for. “Is someone getting married?” I held her close and kissed her hair. “Yes, sweetheart. Daddy’s finally marrying the love of his life.” Elly blinked at the screen. “But what about us?” I smiled. “We’re going home, baby,” I whispered in her ear. Archie forgot that I was Sabrina Marcellus. And the Marcellus women didn’t beg for rings. And certainly not love after betrayal.

I was three months pregnant when my fiancé left me to marry his first love, Isabella Thompson. Soon after, I was in a car accident. I survived, but our baby didn't. My childhood friend, Daniel Smith, found out and insisted on marrying me despite his family's objections. He spent a fortune on the best doctors to ensure I recovered fully. Later, he arranged a grand proposal, confessing he had loved me for years. I was touched and agreed to marry him. But three years later, I overheard his conversation with his friend, Mike Perez. "Remember years ago when Isabella stole Jessica's fiancé? To avoid any future trouble for Isabella, you married Jessica and even caused that car accident, which killed the baby she was carrying. Now, can she even get pregnant anymore?" Mike asked. "No, I love Isabella," Daniel replied. "I just didn't want to have any babies with Jessica, so I put birth control in her water." I trembled, unable to believe what I had heard. It turned out Isabella was also Daniel's first love. I figured it was time for me to leave.

When we hiked deep in the mountains that day, my husband’s first love, Cindy Pepper, and I were both bitten by venomous snakes. Only one of us could be saved. There was only one dose of the antidote in the first-aid kit. Whoever received it would have a chance of surviving. At that critical moment, my husband, Gary Sapien, who was the head of the emergency department, injected the antidote into Cindy Pepper without hesitation. He also gave her the only stretcher and the satellite phone. “Cindy has a heart condition. She won’t make it down the mountain. You work out all the time, and you’re in good shape. I’m sorry, but you’ll have to wait a little longer.” A torrential downpour cut off the mountain. No one rescued me until the following afternoon. By then, the venom had already spread throughout my body. My right leg was necrotic, my kidneys had failed, and I had no choice but to undergo an amputation high above the knee. Gary signed the surgical consent form on my behalf. His expression was still detached. “It’s only a leg. You can still live a normal life with a prosthetic. “You’re already my wife. You don’t need both legs to make a living. Cindy, on the other hand, is a dance teacher. She can’t afford to lose her legs.” I swallowed the metallic taste of blood in my throat and let out a cold laugh. So, it looked like my life and my legs were worth less to him than Cindy’s dream of dancing. That night, I called a number I had not contacted in five years. “Tommy, I’m sorry. I lost. “Come take me home and withdraw all of our investments from Sapien Hospital. “Also, please get the divorce agreement ready for me.”

I was about to marry my boyfriend of seven years, Edward Carter. However, he was secretly getting a marriage certificate with his first love. In a moment of panic and disbelief, I confronted him: "Edward, what do I even mean to you?" Edward grabbed me as I tried to walk away, his eyes filled with helplessness: "Jennifer, you know Chloe is my first love. She only has two months left to live. I just don't want her to leave with regrets." "The woman who will be my last wife, though, is you." It was laughable. He felt sorry for his first love—did that mean I had to suffer? I saw the mocking look Chloe Smith shot my way. Then, to make things worse, Edward actually suggested I let Chloe take my place in the wedding. That was the last straw. After seven years of love, I did not want it anymore. I called my brother, "Hey, the wedding is in ten days. Can you find me a new groom?"

My fiancé’s first love and I fell down the stairs at the same time, and he chose to save her instead, leaving me to lie there in a pool of blood as I waited for an ambulance. On the brink of death, I begged him not to abandon me, and he only kicked my hand away, saying, “Elodie, can’t you show a little kindness? Don’t you see that Celeste is unconscious?! “…I’ll make sure you pay for this later!” ‘Later’, as he put it, didn’t come to pass. As he left with his first love in his arms, I died along with the baby inside my womb.

My husband, Graham Hale, was known in our circle for being almost impossible to rattle. In three years of marriage, nothing ever seemed to get much of a reaction out of him. When his company went public, all he said was, "Got it." When his father was in critical condition, Graham spent the entire night outside the operating room without ever looking shaken. Even the day I miscarried, he held me while I was still bleeding and calmly wiped away my tears. "Don't cry. We can have another." I always thought he just wasn't wired for strong emotions. Then one day, I happened to check his smartwatch. Over the past two weeks, it had recorded six unusual spikes in his heart rate. Every single one happened around 6:20 a.m. What could make a man who never lost his composure suddenly have a heart rate over 130? I got my answer two weeks after my older sister, Celeste Whitmore, came home following her divorce. One day, as I passed Graham's home office, I heard his mother ask, "After all these years, you still can't get over Celeste?" Graham was silent for a long moment before answering. "Yeah. I've had feelings for her since I first saw her in high school." His father sighed. "Then why did you marry her sister?" Graham looked down and slowly turned his wedding ring around his finger. His voice was as calm as if he were discussing a business deal. "The Whitmores were on the verge of losing everything back then. "It didn't matter who I married. Marrying Dawn at least gave me a legitimate reason to put money into Whitmore Group. "That way, the Carvers wouldn't look down on Celeste." I stood outside the door, thinking about those six heart-rate spikes. Celeste went out for her morning run at around 6:20 every day. So Graham's heart could race after all. Just never for me. And in that moment, my own heart finally went still.

The cocktail hour had just ended when I picked up a video call in the bridal suite. It was Ethan, three years from now. By then, time‑travel tech had matured enough to let him contact me three years into the past. After enough specific details, I finally believed it. The man on the screen really was Ethan, three years older. I rubbed my aching ankle and pouted at him through the screen. "Ethan, smiling at all these guests is exhausting. But the second I remember I actually married you today, I'm happy all over again." "We're still happy three years from now, right?" He was leaning back against a headboard, and he didn't answer. His face was flat and unreadable. Then I heard it: a woman's voice from his end, low and breathy, asking to be kissed. I froze for a second, then covered my mouth and laughed. "Is that future me? In broad daylight? Get a room." Ethan turned the camera into the bed. My maid of honor was lying there, naked, sprawled across his chest. Her body was covered in hickeys. He looked straight at me as I started to break, and his voice didn't shift at all. "As soon as the reception ended, I told you I had a client meeting. I went to her room instead." "Jo, now you know what's coming. The guests haven't gone home yet. If you want a divorce tonight, you can have one. Up to you."

I was married to my husband for ten years, but our relationship had long been a façade. In front of his family, he acted like the perfect husband, keeping up appearances. Behind my back, he would have an affair with Mindy Benson, seeking excitement. One day, while I was working at the hospital, my husband brought Mindy here for a prenatal checkup. “The baby is already eight months along. Where is the father?” “Tyler, the doctor is asking for you.” Mindy clung to him, and the two looked like quite a pair. Our eyes met, and I managed a bitter smile. This time, I would no longer go along with the charade.

During a fight with my husband, he shoved me. My stomach bumped into the couch’s armrest. Just then, his childhood friend called him, sobbing. “Caleb, hurry, come to Cloudpeak Hotel and save me! My boss got me drunk, and now he’s forcing me to serve our client…” I nearly blacked out from the twisting pain in my stomach. I begged him to take me to the hospital. However, my husband said, “There’s a life at stake here! Can you not be so cruel?” He left, slamming the door behind him. I had no choice but to call for an ambulance. That night, he spent the night with his childhood friend, while I lay in the operating theater, undergoing emergency surgery. Good news, Caleb Gordon! You'd never have children again! Weren’t you glad? You deserved it!

My husband finally thinks about me three years after my death. The reason? His childhood sweetheart's leukemia has relapsed, and she needs another bone marrow transplant. He comes to my place, wanting to make me sign a donor agreement. However, he finds that the place has long been vacated. He asks a neighbor about it. "Are you talking about Kristen? She's long dead! I heard it was because someone dragged her away for a bone marrow donation when she was already sick. She died a few days after returning home." My husband refuses to believe that. He thinks my neighbor and I have conspired to lie to him. He says impatiently, "If you see her, tell her I won't pay the medical bills for that child she's been raising if she doesn't come to see me in three days." My neighbor shakes her head when she sees how stubborn my husband is. She mutters, "The poor child has already starved to death, though…"

When I found out I had terminal cancer and only a month left to live, my wife didn't want to talk about my illness. All she wanted was for me to donate a kidney to the man she'd never stopped loving. For five years of marriage, I cooked for her and poured every bit of love I had into her. Yet, she never once looked my way. Then, I actually died, and that was when she finally regretted it. She knelt devoutly at the church, praying I would come back to her.

My in-laws-to-be are poisoned, but my fiancé insists on going fishing with his true love. I don't stop him. In fact, I lend him my car. In my past life, he chose to take his parents to the hospital after I stopped him. However, his true love died at sea and ended up being eaten by the sharks. My fiancé was normal after her death. However, when we were on our honeymoon, he stabbed me and pushed me into the ocean. "It's all your fault, Fiona! I failed to save Lauren because of you! Now that she's dead, you don't deserve to live, either!" The scent of my blood attracted the sharks. They ripped me to pieces before I could drown. When I open my eyes again, I find my in-laws-to-be lying in their bed. My fiancé runs off to save his true love. Ultimately, he still regrets his actions.

Everyone says Brandon Foster loves me to the bone. I'm the only one who knows he has a secret lover—a poor student I once sponsored. On our wedding night, he brushed me off with the excuse of needing to entertain the guests. In truth, he was busy fooling around with her. Well, I don't care about that anymore. I have cancer, and my time is running out. I don't expect him and his lover to both lose their minds when they find out, though.

"Ms. Stout, please read the requirements carefully. Once you submit your personal profile and sign up, all of your information will be sealed. You must then enter the research institute within 15 working days. Until the research results are made public, you will not be allowed to leave." The response from the National Academy of Sciences Research Institute came quickly, accompanied by a form. Shermaine Stout stared at the screen, but the mouse in her hand suddenly felt as heavy as lead. The door to her room suddenly swung open, and Shermaine blinked, quickly closing the laptop without a trace of emotion.

I was about to get married, but my boyfriend of nine years had no idea. Why? All because his recently divorced ex-girlfriend waltzed back into town, and he threw himself into her life without hesitation. The knight in shining armor was back, ready to save the day. The moment they saw each other, it was like a scene from a bad romance novel. Their gazes lingered, sparks flying, the kind that screamed, “Oh, we’re soulmates reunited.” To welcome her back, he had 9,999 Juliet roses flown in to decorate her room. Why? All because it was a promise he had made to her long ago. How sweet. Except for one small problem: I’m severely allergic to pollen. When I woke up in the hospital after an emergency rescue, I didn’t cry, yell, or demand answers. No, I pulled out my phone and texted my parents, "Please help me arrange a marriage. I’m done."

"Mr. Dawson, about that farmhouse construction project in Hattensburg… I've decided that I'm willing to go there." Gary Dawson, on the other end of the line, sounds fairly surprised. "I've been asking you to go there for ages, yet you refused every time because you said you wanted to be with your boyfriend, Timothy. Why the sudden change of mind?" Madeline Carlton lowers her reddened eyes and pretends to chuckle nonchalantly. "I guess I hit one too many walls and just decided to come to my senses afterward." Hearing this, Gary sighs and says sternly, "This is a highly classified mission. You will be assuming a whole new identity when you start working on this project. Before the mission ends, you will not be allowed to have any contact with the rest of the world. "Madeline, are you sure that you've thought things through?" "Yes. I just want to escape this place as soon as I can." There is a long silence on the phone. However, Gary answers right after the pause. "Alright. I'll send the classified contract to you in a while. It should take about a month for the paperwork to be finalized. Use that opportunity to say goodbye to your friends and family." The call disconnects. An email pops up in Madeline's inbox. Right after reading through the classified contract, she signed her name with a flourish and submitted the file with a click. At the same time, Bloomberg Group's new product launch plays on the television. Timothy Bloomberg, wearing a tailored white suit, slowly leads Lacey Houston up the catwalk stage.

My Alpha mate Kieran ordered our eight-year-old son to burn my mother alive because his Omega assistant accused me of killing her pet dog out of spite. Kieran's eyes were filled with impatience and disgust. "You're supposed to be our pack's respected Luna. Why would you target an innocent Omega? Whatever harm her pet suffered, your mother will endure the same. Your mother is paying the price for your jealousy!" I fell to my knees, begging Kieran to spare my mother. But he commanded our seven-year-old son Owen to light the fire himself. My son didn't hesitate for a second as he threw the torch into the pile of wood. "That's what you get for always going against Aunt Sera!" I screamed and cried, desperately begging them to help me put out the flames. "Please, I'm begging you, take my mother to the healing center..." "Enough, Aria. Your mother is still lying in the hospital bed. That's just a training dummy. Stop putting on this pathetic act." After saying that, father and son walked away without looking back. They didn't know that it really was my mother burning in those flames. But when I finally gave up on them and left, why did they both come crawling back, begging me to return?

To help my husband, Henry Carter, pay off a million-dollar debt, I clean windows and scrub toilets in an office building on Valentine's Day just for the triple pay. After I'm done with the windows, I am about to transfer the last 50 thousand dollars of the debt when a post suddenly pops up on my phone. The title of the post is, "What is something you see in real life that makes you feel sorry for someone, even if they are your enemy?" One of the top comments says, "The person I hate the most is my boyfriend's wife. My boyfriend pretends to be poor to spend money on me and cheats his wife out of over a million. That woman works day and night at a cleaning company just to make money for me! "This has gone on for eight years. That woman has been scrubbing toilets for eight years! Even if she is my enemy, I feel sorry for her." I freeze, and my fingers tremble uncontrollably. No way. It has to be a coincidence. I stare at those words, stunned and unable to recover from the shock. Then, a new comment appears, "Now, my boyfriend plans to fake an illness by telling his wife that he has cancer. He's going to trick her into giving him money to buy me a car." At that exact moment, Henry sends me a message. The instant I open it, I feel my heart skip a beat. It reads, "I'm sorry, honey. I'm sick—I have cancer. The doctor says we need to prepare 80 thousand dollars for treatment. I hate myself for this. Why am I even alive? I'm just dragging you down with me." The words "late-stage liver cancer" in the attached diagnosis report are painful to look at. I think in dismay, "Henry, you do not need to pretend to be sick. You are indeed in the late stage of cancer."

My boyfriend is a lauded attorney. His true love rams into me with her car; my daughter stands bravely before me as the car explodes. She's blown to smithereens. I'm on the brink of death as I'm carried onto a stretcher, but my boyfriend holds his true love's face tenderly. His gaze is filled with heartache as he tells her that he'll get her off scot-free. He ruins the scene of the accident and buys off the witnesses. He even comes to the hospital to threaten me after I've been disfigured from the explosion. In the end, I die after the treatment doesn't help. It's only when the court announces the sentence that he realizes the deceased's personal details match mine perfectly.

On the day my wife, Sharon Lloyd, becomes the CEO of her company, I secretly travel back to the country from abroad with a 600-million-dollar deal in hopes of giving her a surprise. But that's when I witness her formally announcing that her first love, Gabriel Watson, will be the only director of the company. As Sharon holds Gabriel's hand, she tells him how grateful she is for his many years of accompaniment and contributions with tears in her eyes. The moment everyone notices my presence, they all turn to look at me, clearly itching for a good drama. But Sharon's expression goes stone cold. "Aren't you on an international business trip? If you can't even handle a small matter that I've entrusted you with, how can I ever entrust you with the company's management?" She allows Gabriel to mock and taunt me however he wants. On top of that, she even plans on demoting me to a regular employee. I just clap my hands together with a smile on my face before handing over the lucrative business deal to Gabriel graciously. What they don't know is that I'm this company's only source of income. Without me, all of the investors will no longer trust what Sharon tells them.