Cerita Pendek & Novel Unattainable Love

My wife's first love—the man who had disappeared ten years ago—finally came back. She still believed I was the one who had torn them apart, and she hated me just as much as she had back then. To make him happy, she withheld the money my mother desperately needed for treatment and said to me, "Honey, I'm not heartless. But you ruined my relationship for money. You brought this on yourself. "Now it's time to pay for what you did. Kneel before Gideon, bow your head a hundred times, and say 'I was wrong' a thousand times. Do that, and I'll give you like, five or six million dollars, so your mom can get the best treatment." To save my mother, I slammed my forehead against the floor until it split open and apologized until my voice gave out. My wife was finally satisfied. She pulled five one-dollar bills from her pocket, tossed them at me, and burst into laughter. "I meant five dollars or six million dollars. You actually fell for it." I cried and begged her to at least give me back the money I had saved. My gravely ill mother needed it. She looked at me with nothing but contempt and kicked me aside. "It's been ten years. I thought you'd grown up by now. Instead, you're still the same. You'd even lie about your own mother being sick just to scam me out of money. You're a disgrace to her." To punish me for what she called my greed, she locked me in a walk-in freezer for ten hours. When I was finally let out, the only news waiting for me was that my mother had died. Then my wife sent me a six-million-dollar transfer. "This money is for your mom. Don't you dare keep it for yourself. I'll check with her myself to make sure every cent goes to her." Without even looking at it, I sent the money back. She never knew that the one who had betrayed her and ran away ten years ago was Gideon. The only reason I agreed to deceive her was to repay the debt my mother owed her family. Ten years had passed. The debt had finally been repaid. And it was time for me to leave.

I was an absolute psycho when it came to the person I loved. As it turned out, we were the same kind of people. By day, I was her poker-faced secretary. By night, I would harass and spam her with hundreds of messages using my alternate account. When my feelings were rejected once again through my alt account, I abused my access at work and installed 138 hidden cameras in her house out of spite. Following a month-long observation of Tia from every angle, I discovered that she was planning to imprison her crush. Green with envy, I gave her a suggestion from my alt account. “I’d bought the sturdiest set of chains before. Practically escape-proof. Your crush isn’t going anywhere once he steps into your place. “For sharing the recommendation, can you date me for a month? That’s all I’m asking.” I sent her the link to purchase the chains, only to be met with silence. Just when I thought Tia would never give me the time of day, I woke up to find that I was held captive. The chain around my ankle was the one I’d recommended. Every one of the 138 hidden cameras at Tia’s place featured me on the monitor. I was dumbstruck. What was going on? Was I the one Tia’d planned to imprison? Was I her crush? Amid my surprise, Tia responded to my alt account. “Your chains came in handy, but sorry, I can’t date you. My secretary’s the only one for me.”

I came to Chicago with my friend to visit her boyfriend. Three days in, her boyfriend said he'd show us "something fun." The car kept driving—farther and farther out. By the time we realized something was wrong, we were locked inside an abandoned factory. My friend was gone. Her boyfriend shoved me into a room and threw me a line: "Your friend sold you for twenty grand. Stay put and wait for arrangements." I scanned the room. A few men in black suits leaned against the doorway. Silver-gray pins on their chests. Shield-shaped. Dark red thorns. An inverted dagger. The family crest of Caleb Richardson—don of the New York mafia. I was held captive by him for three years. I barely escaped with my life— And now I've been handed right back to him.

At our engagement party, the woman my fiance, Evan Hartley, hasn't seen in six years; the one who got away, is working as a waitress. When a drunk guest won't leave her alone, he rushes over and shields her in front of every guest in the room. I think he still has feelings for her. But in the next moment, his expression turns cold, and he shoves his assistant's business card into her hand. "He'll set you up with a decent job. Stay out of my life." The next day, she shows up at his office anyway, in a soaking-wet delivery uniform, dropping off food. He can barely contain his anger. "I told you to call my assistant. Why are you still doing this kind of work?" She pushes him away, her eyes rimmed red. "I can take care of myself. I don't need your pity." After a long silence, he wraps his arms around her from behind, his voice low and rough. "I owe you for what happened back then. From now on, I'll make it up to you myself." Before long, she's his secretary. She travels with him on business trips, sits through his client dinners, and stays late with him at the office. Gradually, on the nights he doesn't come home, she's the one who picks up when I call. Her voice drips with satisfaction she can barely hide. "Ms. Ellison, he had too much to drink. He's already asleep. I'll take good care of him for you. "After all, this is something I'm very good at." I smile, hang up, and read a message from the hotel manager. "Ms. Ellison, please confirm the wedding arrangements." I reply, "Everything stays as planned. But the groom might need to be swapped out."

The graduate school admissions are nearing an end. At the same time, a post titled, "What Happened to the Boy Who Left the Last Two Questions Blank for You?" goes viral. Amid countless comments criticizing people who throw away their futures for love, one young woman's boastful comment stands out. She writes, "Back then, he left the last two questions blank just so he could attend the same college as me. Now, he gives up his chance to attend graduate school abroad so that we won't have to enter a long-distance relationship. He says that between his future and me, I'll always be more important." Those who know they are loved always have the confidence to take it for granted. As soon as the comment is posted, countless replies pour in. There are envious replies and increasing arguments over the topic. I feel a twinge of envy because my boyfriend and I are the exact opposite. When my boyfriend does poorly on his exam, I want to apply to the same college as him. However, he advises me against it, saying my future is more important. Yesterday, he tells me he fails to secure a graduate school recommendation and won't be able to go abroad with me to continue his studies. Staring at the two lines on the pregnancy test, I begin seriously thinking about our future. Perhaps because the young woman has received too many hateful comments, she eventually posts a photo showing her boyfriend's side profile. She gloats, "You're all just jealous because I have a handsome boyfriend who loves me this much, aren't you?" The instant I see the photo, my blood runs cold. The man in that picture belongs to Joshua Salter, my boyfriend of seven years. Everything from the past comes crashing over me like a tsunami. It turns out the signs have been there all along. I wipe away my tears. Joshua is right. Between my future and him, my future is indeed more important.

I was Asterton's business mogul, Ronald Foster's, girlfriend of three years. Although he spoiled me to bits, I knew the real reason behind his affection. I resembled his idealized lover. The plot wouldn't develop further until Ronald's idealized lover showed up, so my system and I just did whatever we wanted for three years. It was a good thing the system and I were close, as it kindly changed my task from getting Ronald's affection to maximum to escaping this world. The condition for returning to my old world was for Ronald to betray me. The transfer would be automatic. When Ronald came home with her, I thought I would finally be able to go home. However, the system realized its escape protocol wasn't working. That night, Ronald kissed me right in front of that woman.

At forty-eight, lifelong spinster Eleanor Pembroke finally married. On their wedding night, her husband, the country's most celebrated seer, lifted her veil and spoke without warning. "Eleanor, the three fortunes I gave you thirty years ago were deliberately false." Her body went rigid. "First, I said you were born under a ruinous star and would destroy your family. In truth, your chart was exceptionally fortunate and perfectly matched mine. "Second, I said only years of hardship and self-denial could save your dying mother. I gave the medicine to your stepmother instead, and Harriet died within the first year. "Third, I said we would reunite after thirty years. You remained unmarried, while I had already married your older half-sister." Seeing her disbelief, Silas Wycliffe tried to comfort her. "Your sister once saved my life and asked three favors. A couple should repay debts together. "I have always valued honesty, so I didn't want to hide it from you. "Eleanor, don't feel wronged. I calculated that we have another life. I will make everything up to you then."

In our circle, everyone assumed that the rebellious bad boy, Dominic Ashford, was madly in love with me. A sworn bachelor, he made an exception just for me. But no one knew that on the night I miscarried, he was out street racing with his unforgettable first love, Vivian Lane. Only after losing his child did he truly transform from a boy into a man. Trading his leather jacket for a suit. Removing his ear studs and putting on glasses. Settling down to stay by my side and manage the business. I thought he had finally understood the meaning of "home." Until the day I was preparing his fifth anniversary gift and, on a whim, tried on those black-rimmed glasses he never took off. In the glow of the smart lenses, I watched my reflection in the mirror transform into Vivian Lane’s face. At that same moment, his computer screen lit up with a message from Vivian: “Dominic, she hasn’t been giving you trouble again, has she? The baby kicked me again today. When are you coming to see us?” In an instant, my blood ran cold. So for the past six months, the love I thought had finally come back to me was nothing more than Dominic looking at me through those AR glasses and seeing another woman. And his sudden devotion, his doting attention to my every need, was all just to keep me, the “stand-in,” content, so the woman he truly loved could carry his child in peace. This time, I didn’t beg with red-rimmed eyes the way I always had before. Instead, I calmly placed the glasses back where I found them and dug out the divorce papers I’d prepared long ago from the bottom of the closet.

For three consecutive months, an extra five hundred dollars mysteriously appeared in my desk drawer. Attached to each stack of cash was the same brief note: “Overtime Pay.” The only problem? Our company didn’t offer overtime pay. It wasn’t until I finally checked the security camera footage that I uncovered the truth. Every single night, my boss was sneaking over to my desk and slipping cash into my drawer.

Three years into our marriage, Sean Gibson returns from every field trip with a begonia for me. I am not a plant person, but his influence rubs off on me, and against all odds, they thrive under my care. I asked him once, "Why always begonias? Why not something else?" Sean was pinching back stems. Leaves scattered across the balcony as he replied, "You remind me of them." One day, I am sorting through old boxes at home and find a scrapbook. On the title page sits a single character, B, written in his handwriting. He claims it is just a random scribble, so I don't think much of it. Right before my birthday, he asks what I want. I tell him I want a snow-capped begonia. I say I already mixed the soil and even mapped out the exact spot for it. He freezes for a second, then chuckles and says, "Okay." On my birthday, he forgets again. His phone screen lights up. "Sean, thanks for the snow-capped begonia. So, you didn't forget after all." As I look at the begonias spilling from the balcony all the way into the bedroom, a wave of mixed emotions washes over me. He didn't forget. He just gave it to his ex, whom he broke up with seven years ago. It turns out he never meant I remind him of the flower. He meant I remind him of her.

“Miss, you’ve been standing here all by yourself all day. Who was the deceased to you?” I glanced back at the crematorium attendant and answered calmly, “I was the deceased.” The attendant’s face turned ashen with fear. Only after he confirmed that I looked nothing like the woman in the memorial photo did he finally speak. His voice was still trembling. “Miss, this isn’t something you should joke about.” I walked over and patted him on the shoulder. “If you knew it was a joke, why did you still get scared?” The truth was, I had not lied to him. Ever since my brothers brought Quiana White home, all the love and attention that once belonged to me went to her instead. The day she tortured me to death, I opened my eyes again and found myself in her body. If becoming the person I hated the most was the only way to get my brothers’ love back, then what did it matter? I left the crematorium and saw my oldest brother, Theo Langford. Before I could say anything, he slapped me across the face. “Who let you out before the seven days were up?!”

On my fifth wedding anniversary, I find an old phone inside Jayden Luther's safe. The password is his first love's birthday. The phone has records of all their sweet moments in the past. In contrast, he doesn't even have a single photo of me in his current phone gallery. "Shirley Lovell, don't you know it's rude to invade someone else's privacy by peeking?" I turn to look at the man standing outside the door. I don't scream or throw a tantrum. Calmly, I say, "Let's get a divorce." Jayden reformats his phone on the spot. His expression was so indifferent that I can't quite discern any emotion. "Are you happy now? Are we still getting a divorce?" he asks. I nod seriously. "Yes."

Don Petty is a man of ironclad principles. When he makes a promise—no matter what it is—he'll definitely honor it. So when his ex-girlfriend, Taylor Stapley, shows up clutching a stack of long-expired relationship coupons, he honors each and every one of them. "This is a 'Movie Time' coupon. You promised to watch this re-release with me." So he abandons me, his fever-ridden wife, to spend the entire night at the movie theater with her. "This is a 'Let's Go On a Trip' coupon. You promised we'd take a trip every year." So he ignores me, his heavily pregnant wife, to watch the stars with her in the desert. "This is a 'Companionship' coupon. You need to come keep me company when I'm feeling down." So he promptly walks out on me, fresh out of surgery after a miscarriage, to be with her. That is the last time I make a scene. With bloodshot eyes and tears streaming down my face, I cling to him, begging him to stay. But Don simply yanks his hand away with a frown. "I need to honor the promises I've made," he says irritably. "That is a matter of principle! Don't be unreasonable!" But he seems to have forgotten that he's broken every promise he's made to me. Not long after I'm discharged from the hospital comes the anniversary of Mom's death. And once again, Taylor cashes in another coupon and takes him away. This time, I don't bother stopping him. This marriage that's long past its expiry date, I don't want it anymore.

Three nights before my wedding, I called my fiancé, Garrett. A version of him from five years in the future answered. I couldn't keep the happiness out of my voice. "Are we happy together? Has your mother finally accepted me?" A long silence hung on the other end before a low, tipsy chuckle came through. The laugh was faint, the kind you'd use to humor a naive child. "Vivi, in the last five years, you've asked me for a divorce more times than I can count." I froze. "...What do you mean?" "It means you found out about me and Kiera." My breath caught. I couldn't believe it. "My sister? I thought you couldn't stand her." He let out a quiet sigh. "Vivi, saying I couldn't stand her was just my way of hiding how I really felt." "Don't worry, I won't divorce you. We made our vows at the altar, after all." A chill ran through me. I wanted to press further, but a lazy little giggle drifted through from the other end. "Garrett, who is it?" He murmured something in response and hung up. A second later, a message from Garrett popped up on my phone. [Vivi, our wedding is almost here. You're happy, right?] [I'll be good to you for the rest of my life. If I ever break that promise, I don't deserve to live.]

Everyone in New York knew my name—Bella Moreau. I was the one person Theo Romano, the city's most feared mob boss, would kill to protect. Anyone who defied me or so much as looked at me the wrong way never escaped his wrath. But when his first love, Eve Laurent, returned, he turned me into a tool to please her, showering her with all the affection that had once been mine. Eve casually claimed I'd slapped her. The very next day, an assassin came after me, leaving me with two broken ribs. Eve claimed I'd smashed the jewelry Theo had bought her. The next day, I was kidnapped, stripped naked, and humiliated. Eve accused me of pushing her down the stairs and breaking her leg. Theo threw me into the basement and left me there for three days without a single drop of water. Day after day, he watched me grow quieter. I stopped arguing with him and making a scene. He thought he'd finally broken me, sanding away every rough edge until I became the obedient, understanding wife he'd always wanted. What he didn't know was that today was the 1,826th day we'd been together. Our secret marriage agreement would expire today. At last, I was finally free.

As the only granddaughter of the late Royal Chancellor, Evelyn Lansing was the most celebrated lady in the capital's high society. But for the sake of Julian Sterling, heir to the Sterling family, she turned herself into the city's biggest joke. When Julian lay unconscious after falling off a cliff, Evelyn traveled a thousand miles alone to find a reclusive healer and waited outside his door for a week without food or water. After bringing the healer back, she cast aside her reputation and spent three years at Julian's bedside, nursing him back to health with her own hands. Yet the moment he woke up, he publicly declared that he intended to marry Evelyn’s maid, Ivy. The news tore through the capital like wildfire.

Everyone knows that campus heartthrob Kelvin Underwood never dates anyone for more than three months. Yet, he's been with me for nearly nine months. People call me the love of his life. That is until a viral thread hits the campus forums. It claims that his first love, Tamara Wesson, is back, and he'll be dumping me any day now. I find it hilarious and want to show it to him. But instead of laughing, he pretends to be asleep, rolling over and subtly putting as much distance between us as possible. I assume he's sulking because I added another guy on social media. Like always, I throw myself onto him and let my hands roam all over his body, teasing him playfully. As I watch him close his eyes tightly and purse his lips in pure restraint, my pulse starts to race. I lean in to kiss him. Suddenly, floating comments flash into view. [The male lead is practically dying of disgust, and this second female lead is still touching him so shamelessly? No wonder she ends up getting bullied to death.] [Stephanie doesn't actually think Kelvin sees her as his true love, does she? The only reason he broke his three-month rule and stayed with her for nine months is that he found out Tamara's lucky number is nine, and so he's just doing it to get under her skin.] [Exactly! The moment our precious Tamara heard that he's been dating someone for that long, she immediately panicked and came back to win him over. Our sweet endgame couple is about to make their grand entrance!]

On my birthday, I was busy making preparations. I decorated my house and made dinner. Then, I waited until all the dishes went cold. That was when I received a text message from Zac Hilton: I’m on a business trip. Don’t wait for me. You should go to bed first. Then, I saw his girl best friend, Faye Smith, posted a social media post. In the photo, Zac had his sleeves rolled up. He wore an apron as he was making dinner in the kitchen. She added the caption: I hope this moment will last forever. I suddenly became vapid. I liked her post and reheated my dinner before eating. Throughout dinner, my phone kept ringing, but I ignored it. I only picked up my phone after I finished the meal. There were a dozen missed calls from Zac. Finally, he sent a voice message to me. [Piper, I’ll explain to you when I return. Don’t overthink it. There are so many future birthdays that we can spend together.] I did not reply to him. I had only one thought to myself. “Will there be a future for us?”

When I'm dragged onto the auction stage, my ex-boyfriend, Clifford Mitchell, is sitting among the audience. He has his arm around Selene Graham, the woman who framed my father and sent him to prison back then. He leisurely raises his paddle. "A hundred million dollars. I want her to strip naked in public and play that video from back then." The compromising photos he coaxed me into taking when I was 18 instantly appear on the massive screen, and the whole venue bursts into laughter. I bite down hard on my lip and, with trembling hands, slowly undo my buttons to cover the cost of my son Brooke Sullivan's surgery tomorrow. Just then, Brooke bursts in. His head's covered in blood as he throws his arms around Clifford's leg. "You big bully! Don't hurt my mommy! You can have my kidney, so please save my mommy!" Staring at the face that is practically identical to his own, Clifford loses his composure for the very first time. "Kyra, this child—" I slap him hard across the face, a bitter smile on my lips. "Don't you think I'm filthy, Mr. Mitchell? He's just a bastard child. I wouldn't want to sully your precious eyes."

I was the eldest daughter of the Costa crime family until an engineered car crash killed me three years ago. When I opened my eyes again, to my shock, three years had passed. I had been reborn. For three years, hatred had blinded my three brothers, and they had welcomed our true enemy as family. They trusted Elizabeth, the woman who copied my every move, without question. They let her join forces with our enemies and gut the Costa Family from within. Fools. Since I was given a second life, I would set everything right. Rebuilding the Family would start with my youngest brother, Nick, the Wall Street prodigy.