Emotions Show Novels & Stories

A stampede happened at my daughter's kindergarten. Timothy Horuson was in a hurry to save his first love's son, and he pulled away someone else's hand. A hand reached out to him, hoping for him to save her. His daughter's hand. And the light in my daughter's eyes faded. The longing for fatherly love she had held on to for so long vanished. I risked my life to save her. She looked at me quietly. "I'll go with you, Mom. We'll leave Dad behind and go somewhere he'll never find us."

My mother is hospitalized due to a terminal illness. She's in urgent need of a kidney transplant to save her life. I'm the only one who can perform the surgery, but I give the kidney to a stranger. My father and husband get on their knees before me on the day of the surgery. They beg me to save my mother. However, I shrug and say, "I can't do anything about this. A life is a life, regardless of who the person is. This is what she gets for coming late—death is waiting for her."

On the train back home, I found a scathing post online. [My sister-in-law is pushing thirty but isn’t married yet. She comes home all the time. Would you be bothered by it?] The comments were numerous and ran the gamut of opinions. The post got wildly popular, and there was an argument between the poster and commenters. [It’s bad enough that she won’t get married. She wants to stay with us when she’s home. Shouldn’t she feel ashamed? I’m at the end of my rope. She even drank all my lemonade last time she was here. I really hate her. [She has no boundaries. I’ve been wanting to teach her a lesson for ages. I turned her bedroom into my walk-in closet. Let’s see if she can still stay here.] When I got to this point, I closed the post. It was lucky that I bought the house where my parents and brother live. Because of that, I would not be at risk of losing my own room. But when I got out of the train station, I received a text from my mother. [Sweetie, I booked you a hotel room. You don’t have to come home and stay this time.]

My future mother-in-law, Diane Grant, loved setting rules. On the day I proposed, she sat there with that smug, superior look and told me if I wanted to marry her daughter, Olivia Grant, I had to pass her so-called "son-in-law training", which was three months working as a food delivery driver. She said she wanted to test whether I could handle hardship. For my fiancee's sake, I kept my identity hidden. I was the heir to one of the most powerful families in Crestfall City, and I agreed without hesitation. For three months, I shed every trace of privilege. I worked from dawn to night, delivering orders across the city. My parents didn’t understand. My friends disapproved. Mrs. Grant watched me like a hawk, picking me apart every single day. "Three minutes late? That’s a $3,000 penalty. The wedding shall be delayed by a month!" "Wrong unit delivery, bad review? $8,000 penalty. You don’t get to see Olivia this week!" Even then, I never gave up. Until the final day. I received an urgent order with a massive tip. The note was in bold: "Lifesaving medication. Immediate delivery." I sped through the streets, pushing myself to the limit. Just as I was about to enter the residential compound, Mrs. Grant stepped in front of me, blocking my way, her face full of disdain. Her voice shot up sharply. "The wedding gift goes up to $200,000. Not a cent less." I looked at her look of absolute certainty and suddenly laughed. My finger slid across the screen. The recipient of that urgent order was her precious son, Christopher Grant. I slowly put away the unlimited card in my pocket, along with the check I had prepared for a million-dollar wedding gift. Originally, I had planned to reveal my identity that day to give her the surprise of a lifetime. It seemed there was no need.

My cousin, Leroy Huff, is bringing his new girlfriend, Jodie Collins, home for the first time ever. At the dining table, everyone chats with each other animatedly. Suddenly, Jodie stares at my face intensely before pretending to be shocked. "Have I seen you before, Isabelle? You're a member of a high-class escort group, aren't you? I've seen your price list on the group chat's photo album before. I think… you were charging only 200 dollars per night, right?" After she's done speaking, she pretends to cover her mouth while looking all pure and innocent. All noise and chatter fade away instantly. My relatives turn to look at me in disdain. "She looks so prim and proper at first glance, but to think that she's actually involved in such business…" "You bring nothing but shame to the Huff family! Don't ever tell anyone else that you know us!" Enraged, my dad smashes his wine glass. Meanwhile, my mom just wipes her tears away quietly. But I dab my mouth with a napkin slowly before shooting Jodie a half-smile. "It's normal for you to think of me as familiar-looking. After all, I'm a member of the vice squad. Last month, I just arrested you after a stakeout."

My father loved silence. He believed noise was the mark of lesser people, so he installed a decibel meter in our home. Speaking above 40 decibels meant that we would have to pay him 10 dollars, laughing above 60 decibels meant 50 dollars, and crying or throwing a tantrum was a serious offense at 100 dollars per second. The year I turned four, I fell and broke my arm. I did not make a single sound. I bit down so hard that I cracked two teeth, but I saved thousands in noise fees. He praised me for it and called me a "high-value child," one that was worth the investment. I treasured that compliment and observed the rules carefully, keeping the house wrapped in suffocating silence. Then came the stormy night a thief broke in. He had a knife and was creeping toward my mother as she slept, and I watched it all from the gap in the wardrobe where I was hiding. I wanted to scream. I wanted to shriek and wake my father, to do something, anything. However, my eyes drifted to the decibel meter on the wall, and my hand found nothing but an empty pocket. I did not have enough allowance. One scream would cost hundreds, and I simply could not afford it.

Given a new chance at life, upon learning of my husband's supposed death, the first thing I did was to register him as dead. In my previous life, after my husband, Jonah Lloyd, learned that his elder brother, Noah, had died in an accident, he resolved to assume his brother's identity and provide for his widowed sister-in-law. All because the young widow from the city couldn't withstand the gossip of the village. As for me, coming from humble origins, even without my husband, I could survive on my own. When I heard the news, I truly believed that my husband had died in an accident. I was determined to raise our daughter with all my heart. That year, during a blizzard, while his family huddled together and celebrated in the warmth, I was out there fighting over the money after selling my body. I bled out and died in the harsh, cold night. My daughter, Tina, left waiting for me to bring back good, starved to death in the bitter winter. Only after death did I learn that my husband hadn't died. He had spent his entire life in his brother's name, protecting the widow, living to see his children and grandchildren grow old around him. And now, reopening my eyes, I had returned to the very day my husband died in an accident.

My husband, Noah Campbell, has only passed away for less than three months when my sister-in-law, Pamela Turner, starts urging me to move out. "It's not that I'm casting you out, Veronica. You see, Matthew wants to renovate your bedroom. I'm just worried that you might not have time to pack up your stuff when the time comes. "Besides, Noah is no longer around. It's inappropriate for you to continue living in an apartment that belongs to your in-laws, you know?" My mother-in-law pauses mid-bite, pretending she didn't hear a word Pamela said. Meanwhile, Matthew Campbell, Pamela's husband, continues munching on his food silently. Upon noticing that I never replied to her, Pamela adds, "Don't overthink it, Veronica. I don't want the outsiders gossiping about you, you know." Only then do I look up at her with a smile. "Thank you for your concern, Pamela. But I'm not scared of a bit of gossip." After all, I'm the owner of this apartment.

That winter, our whole family went skiing in Aespen, Amestia. It was a popular spot for werewolf nobles and the wealthy. Then, the avalanche struck. My father's first instinct was to scoop up Summer—his sleeping adopted daughter—and flee. My mother, panicked, still made sure to grab the stray puppy Summer had found. They returned to the Moonshadow Pack that same night, posting a flood of photos online and rejoicing over their miraculous escape. Not one of them remembered me. Their biological daughter was still buried beneath the snow, waiting for rescue. When I was finally rescued, I did not look back. I took my mentor's offer to study abroad and left the pack behind. I moved to Cascade City to study medicine. No more pleading, no more shrinking myself in hopes of earning back my family's love. Yet they only seemed more disgruntled. "Rose, why aren't you competing with Summer for our attention anymore?"

It was New Year's Eve. We were streaming live when my brother called. I spoke first, "I wish you peace and a happy, long life." He gave a cold laugh. "Yeah, well, I don't want you to have any of that. I hope you spend the rest of your life in misery." I'd cut him off the year he was flat broke. Now that he was successful, this was the first thing he did—get back at me. I kept my tone calm. "I wish you peace and a happy, long life." He sounded annoyed. "Cut it out. There's no way I'm wishing you well. If I have to say something, then I hope you stay miserable forever." The host hesitated, then chimed in, "Ben, that was just a recording of Hailey's message. And yes, when she left… she was in a lot of pain and quite miserable, just like you hoped for."