Emotional Stories Novels & Stories

Julian Vale—the undefeated actuarial prodigy—finally lost. In an international match, he got taken down by an intern who had just come back from overseas. The story blew up that same day. Reporters swarmed the training room entrance. "Ms. Clermont, Mr. Vale once said if anyone beat him even once, he'd marry her. Now that he lost to an intern, what do you think?" "Ms. Clermont, we heard the intern is his ex from overseas. Did you know?" My head buzzed. I thought about the five years I spent with Julian. I gave everything every match—and never beat him. I used to think he was just respecting the game. Thought I just wasn't good enough. Not until today—when he threw the match to that intern. That's when it clicked. The girl he wanted to marry was never me. I faced the mics and forced a smile. "That match was rigged."

My husband Justin Lansing and I run a breakfast cart in Cratertown. We're up at two in the morning every day. We made thirty thousand dollars last year. When we drove home for the holidays, Justin had a little too much to drink and slapped the car keys onto the table. That same night his uncle pulled him into a card game. By morning he had lost everything. Thirty thousand dollars and the car. He came home and went to his knees on the floor. I rolled up my sleeves and pulled our daughter's New Year money out of my pocket. "Today you're coming with me. You're going to watch how I play."

The ambulance’s siren blared as it sped toward the hospital. But an obnoxious power-walking mob blocked its path at the entrance of our residential area. As a result, the ambulance could not leave the area. I got out of the car to negotiate with that group of power-walkers. I immediately recognized that the woman who led the mob was none other than my mother-in-law, Miranda White. “Miranda, the illness of someone important to me has flared up. He’s in critical condition! “Please get these people to move and let the ambulance pass! Quick!” I was frantic with worry. But Miranda shot me a sideways glance and jumped to conclusions. “He should’ve died a long time ago! “He’s your father. What gives him the nerve to interfere in Caleb’s marital home?! If he’s sick, he deserves it!” Right after she finished her sentence, she waved her arms and called more people over. The number of people joining the power-walking mob continued to increase. They packed the road so tightly that it was completely blocked. When it became clear the ambulance could not possibly leave the area, Miranda shot me a smug glance. She picked up her phone and said in a coy voice, “Honey, what are you doing at home? Come down and join me for a power walk! Getting some exercise is what matters most for your health.” Inside the ambulance, the phone screen next to the patient lit up for a moment, then went dark again. It was not my father who had collapsed.

A young woman showed up at my door, saying she wanted to become my wife to repay me for saving her life. She drove my younger sister out of the house and wanted to transfer the family property to her parasitic parents in my name! I immediately reported her. How could someone be so bold as to commit robbery right at my home in a society governed by law?

I was born with a cursed tongue. The words I said came true. So as soon as I understood what that meant, I stopped speaking. For more than twenty years, I never said another word. Then my six-year-old son knocked his pregnant aunt over by accident, and my husband sent him to a kennel. My son had been bitten by a dog before. He was terrified of them. I begged. I went down on my knees and slammed my forehead against the floor until it was bleeding. Connor Grant lifted his sister-in-law Camille Lane up off the ground, ran a tender hand over her swollen belly, and his voice came out cold. "Don't think I can't see what's behind this. He did it because you put him up to it. You're a calculating little mute. He has your filthy blood in his veins. If we don't break him now, he grows up worthless." "Send him somewhere that knows how to teach a child his place. Teach him how things rank in this house. And teach you, while we're at it. Don't touch what isn't yours." By the time I found my son, he was in a cage with five vicious dogs. There was almost nothing left to hold. I pieced the small body back together. I opened my mouth for the first time in over twenty years, and the first words I had spoken in my life were: "Connor Grant. Blood for blood. I will see this house buried."

After my boyfriend, Jonathan Jenson, gets laid off from his work, I let him stay at my home out of the kindness of my heart. But he thinks he's the actual owner of my home now. Not only does he spend my money, but he also moves his family into my residence. The entire Jenson family spends my money nilly-willy, and yet they have the nerve to demand that I scrimp up every penny when it comes to my own needs and wants. Jonathan's mother even has the gall to slap me on the spot just because I bought myself a milkshake. "This is my son's money! What makes you think you have the right to spend it all?" I retaliate by freezing their bank cards and throwing their luggage out of my home. "What's with the ego, huh? You're leeching off me, yet you have the guts to trample all over me like that? In that case, get the hell out of my sight!"

When the half-mile sprint test is about to begin, Quiana Sullivan, the class president, and I have applied to be exempted from it. My own mother, who's the homeroom teacher of my class, approves Quiana's application with a smile. But she then throws mine to the floor. "You're having a chest pain, you say? I can't believe you're able to come up with such lies just to avoid the half-mile sprint! I'd have known if you had a heart condition! "Quiana is weak by nature, not to mention she's on her period right now, so she can't handle the agony. What about you, hmm? You've always been perfectly healthy, yet now you're telling me that you're suffering from heart pain? "Don't go around embarrassing me just because you want to slack off! I don't want others claiming that I'm being biased toward my own child! As long as you're still alive and kicking, you must finish the half-mile course no matter what!" Left without a choice, I can only return to the field. The cold wind makes me feel even dizzier now. My heart keeps contracting uncontrollably against my will. Suddenly, it just stops pumping. The next thing I know, I collapse onto the grassy field heavily. When my consciousness is about to flicker to darkness, my mom finally walks over to me. But she merely kicks my arm with a frown on her face, and her tone remains glacial. "Stop playing dead. Get up right now." She doesn't realize that I can never open my eyes ever again. Isn't this great, Mom? No one will ever claim that you're biased toward your own child. I've used my life to prove how fair and just you are. You must be happy now, right?

On my father’s sixtieth birthday, I was overseas, negotiating an energy contract. I deliberately told my wife to throw a huge banquet for him. That day, I watched the mansion’s security footage with a smile. Unexpectedly, I saw my nine adoptive siblings surrounding an unfamiliar old man. That old man wore my dad’s class ring as he happily pulled my wife onto the stage. “Thank you for coming to my birthday banquet. This is my daughter-in-law, the president of the Viapent Group. She’s the absolute best! She spent three million dollars on this banquet! It’s all thanks to my eldest son for finding such a capable wife.” In one corner, my actual father was in tattered clothes, washing dishes with my son. He accidentally splattered some water. One of the guests kicked him in disgust, causing him to cough up blood. The security footage was cut off. How dare these people mistreat my father and son? I called a special number. “I’m putting a stop to the negotiations. My father and son are being abused back home. I am returning to them now.”

As she had wished, I succumbed to sickness in that rented apartment. Fortunately for me, I woke up again to the day I first sponsored Janice.

On the eve of my wedding, my fiance's first love, Sasha Green, ruined my custom-made wedding dress worth a fortune. The gown split open down the back. I had to crouch down and clutched my chest with both hands to keep myself from being exposed. She stood there holding a pair of scissors, looking at me with an innocent expression. "Anthea, I'm really sorry. I used a little bit too much force, and I accidentally ruined your dress. Please don't blame me." My fiance, Gary Dome, immediately went up to her and took the scissors from her hand. His voice was full of concern for her. "Why would she blame you? You were just trying to help trim some loose threads. If anything, it's her fault for being too fat, stretching the dress until it tore." Still crouching on the floor, I watched the two of them behave intimately. My gaze turned cold. The dress was ruined, and so was my dream. It was time to wake up.