Bedwetting Story

My husband, James Lincoln, disappeared in an accident, and my in-laws wasted no time filing to have him legally declared deceased. At the funeral, a woman, Xena Xander, suddenly showed up with a young boy, both crying hysterically. The boy, Charlie Lincoln, screamed at the top of his lungs, calling my husband “Daddy.” My ten-year-old daughter, Mia Lincoln, charged at him, shouting, “Shut up! That’s my dad!” Pretending to break it up, my in-laws instead shoved Mia to the ground. She collapsed and passed out on the spot. “If you’re looking for someone to blame, blame yourself for not giving us a grandson! This family can’t die out without an heir!” Xena smirked at me with blatant provocation. Behind her, Charlie spat in my direction and sneered, “You’re just a worthless tramp nobody cares about.” I didn’t lose my temper. Instead, I laughed. “If you want the status and the inheritance so badly, you can have them. But don’t come crying to me when you regret it.” Two weeks later, Xena showed up at my doorstep, covered in blood, banging on the door and screaming. And then, I got a phone call that felt like a nightmare come to life. But I couldn’t have cared less. By then, I was already enjoying a peaceful vacation overseas.

The first year after they finally bring me home, the impostor suggests a trip to Golden Island so we can build some brotherly rapport. For safety, my fiancee comes with us. They rack up a massive gambling debt at Golden Island's casino. To get themselves out of trouble, she leaves me behind as a hostage and disappears with him. The casino thugs pin me down, ready to take out their anger on me. I struggle to break free, and that is when I notice the leader's phone lighting up with a number for the island owner. Isn't that the number of the adoptive sister who has adored me for more than a decade?

Ayla, my wife had just returned home from a business trip when I received a call from the hotel she had booked there. The hotel receptionist sounded a little embarrassed as she explained, “Hello, is this Ms. Jewell’s husband? I’m calling from the front desk. I see that we forgot to bill you for some incidentals. It looks like your room used all eighteen condoms from the amenity kit. I apologize for the oversight. The total comes to 35 dollars. Can I get a card number over the phone to close that out for you?” My mind went completely blank. Hadn’t my wife gone on that business trip on her own? Why would she have used condoms? Suppressing my inner turmoil, I gave Ayla a call. “Honey, the hotel just called. They said there was a little issue with your room. They asked me if you had someone staying over with you?” She sounded clearly exhausted as she replied with a weak voice, “Oh, right. A lady couldn’t find a hotel room, so she crashed with me for the night.” I chuckled and asked her to rest. After hanging up, I drove directly to the hotel. “35 dollars, right? I’ll pay it in person.”

When my wife brought her lover home for the fifth time, I decided enough was enough. I said nothing, not a word of complaint or protest. Instead, I superglued the windows shut and locked the bedroom door from the outside. From the bedroom came the muffled sounds of her little escapade, breathless and feverish, carrying through the walls like a shameful melody no one asked to hear. Calmly, I sat in the living room, picked up the phone, and called my mother-in-law. "Jessie," I said, putting on my best tone of urgency, "it's bad—real bad! Your daughter's locked herself in the bedroom and says she's gonna end it all!"

When my colleagues find out that I'm pretty good at cooking, they start organizing dinners at my place. Lucy Holt, one of the junior accountants, suggests that we split the groceries evenly between us. As a result, I don't think I can reject their request without being rude. On my last day of work, the group gathers at my place for one last meal. "You're such a good cook, Jess! We'll all be transferring you 500 dollars later. It's just a token of our appreciation," Lucy declares with a bright smile. But the very next day, she sends me a message. "Hey, Jess. You know it's illegal to operate an unlicensed catering business from your home, right? Your house will get sealed off for further investigation. More importantly, the value of goods has passed the threshold of 10,000 dollars, which means the fine you'll have to pay is probably going to be about 20 times that amount. "Since we worked together, we decided not to report you to the authorities. We'll just settle this matter privately. All you have to do is give us the fine you would've had to pay instead." This is how I realized that, combined with yesterday's meal, the total amount they've given me for groceries thus far is exactly 10,001 dollars.

I drag my suitcase out of the airport and walk straight into a massive billboard. "Welcome back, Jennifer Palmer, the great love of Ivan Olsen's life." The entire Internet praises him for having waited faithfully for ten years. A star-struck reporter shoves a microphone in my face and asks, "Ms. Palmer, are you moved that Mr. Olsen has remained celibate for you all this time?" I blink in confusion at her question. "Who's Ivan?"

My husband was in the late stages of liver cancer. Afraid of dragging me down, he committed suicide by jumping into the river. I couldn’t swim, but I dove in after him without hesitation. To give him the will to live on, I told him about winning the lottery. He pretended to struggle but took the chance to shove me underwater, drowning me. Before I could rest in peace, he ran off abroad with his first love using my money. Only then did I realize that he had planned to fake his death all along just to get rid of me! When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day he jumped into the river. You wanted to die, huh? Well, let me help you with that!

I am the wife of the capital city’s esteemed tycoon. We were married in secret for three years. At the celebratory banquet, I was about to make our relationship public. However, his first love, Juvelia Shaw, stumbled into the hall clutching her torn collar. “Edwin, save me! Peri Sanders brought along her penniless brother. He just forced a kiss on me in the lounge! “He says he’s your brother-in-law. If I want to get into the Gough family, I have to please him.... Argh! I have been defiled!” The room fell deathly silent before erupting into a chorus of finger-pointing and curses. They accused me of forcing my brother to assault the esteemed tycoon’s woman just to secure his favor. Edwin Gough’s eyes blazed crimson. He ripped off his coat and wrapped it tightly around Juvelia. Then, he flung a glass of red wine at my face. Gritting his teeth, he glared at me. “Peri, bring out that beast of a brother of yours!” “Since his mouth is so vile, let’s pull out his teeth and cut his tongue off to feed the dogs! Otherwise, I’ll make the entire Sanders family pay with their lives!” Amidst the crowd’s looks of contempt and disgust, I burst into laughter. My brother had long since lost his voice. Three years ago, in a fire, he had inhaled excessive smoke while saving Edwin, which had destroyed his vocal cords. His tongue was gone too.

In eight years together, my boyfriend—Shayne Raffield—blocked me eighty-eight times. This time? Because I missed his call. At my best friend's birthday party. Usually, I'd panic-order a gift, then stand outside his office, head down, ready to beg. But today? I blocked him first. The Chat Feed popped up, loud as ever: [Nooo, Ley-Bae, don't block Shay-Shay! He's just got abandonment issues. Comfort him!] [Shay's heart = shattered; Eyes = red. Ley, go! One pout and he's yours again!] Then Shayne called. Didn't say a word. Just breathed for ten seconds and hung up. The Chat Feed freaked out. [AHHHH SHAY LOVES LEY SO MUCH HE JUST SUCKS AT SAYING IT. THIS COWARD'S GONNA LOSE HIS GIRL.]

My dad is a fan of tough love parenting. When I was a kid, there was a time when I obtained full marks on two subjects. But he told me, "Your grades don't mean anything in life. If you were a true man, you'd leap down five floors without batting an eyelash." Some time later, I was awarded for my act of bravery. But Dad scoffed in my face. "Not even a hair is harmed on your head. Why should you be awarded anyway?" I thought Dad wanted me to go through more training in life. On Christmas Eve, he ditched me on a snowy mountain under the guise of wanting me to go through more training. He didn't give me a tent or a lighter. Later on, Dad even brags about his parenting method to his relatives and friends. "A real man should survive and thrive in a desperate situation! I told Julian that he can forget about being my son if he can't even make his way back to the summit!" But the red dot on the GPS tracker installed in his phone hasn't moved for the past three hours. The truth is, I've already frozen to death in the mountains. Trapped in my fist is a scrap of paper detailing the SOS number that Dad had torn apart earlier. Meanwhile, my soul is currently floating above the dining table while watching Dad brag about his tough love parenting.