Literary Realism

My mother is a forensic doctor. When she's at the market for some grocery shopping, she sees human flesh being sold at a butcher's stall. She calls the police before contacting my cousin to tell her to stay safe. Her friend reminds her to also pay attention to me, but my mother is scornful. "She can die out there for all I care. I never want to see her again!" She doesn't know that she's already seen me, though. She didn't recognize her daughter from the pile of flesh that's waiting for her examination.

I called my wife, a forensic specialist, after learning that my in-laws were involved in a car accident. It was on the 80th call that she finally answered, "I'm just trying to celebrate Justin's birthday for him. What's wrong with you? Can you not get jealous over just about anything?" I informed her that Mom, Dad, and sister had died in a car accident, and that she should hurry back to arrange for their funeral. To my surprise, she scoffed at my suggestion and replied, "What does your family's death have to do with me?" She was not involved in the funeral arrangements at all. On top of that, she even falsified evidence for her love interest—the culprit who killed her family—in court as a forensics specialist. Eventually, on the day I informed her of my intention to divorce, she threw a fit. "Patrick, it's just the death of a few of your family members. Justin didn't do it on purpose. It was just an accident. "Moreover, it's because of your parents' and sister's carelessness on the road that led to the accident. Why are you making things difficult for me and insisting on divorce? I've truly misjudged you…" Noticing the indignance in her response, I finally understood. It seemed she had no idea that it was her family that died in the accident all this while.

A car accident leaves me unconscious for a full three years. When I wake up, my family bursts into tears of joy. They care for me with the utmost attention. But from their behavior, I sense something is wrong. There are women's clothes in the house that don't fit me. My mother's shopping cart is filled with mysterious baby items. My father's friends send congratulatory messages about a new child, and my husband is always working overtime. When my husband once again leaves me alone under the pretext that there is something urgent at the company, I secretly follow him. Inside a warmly decorated house, my parents and husband sit around a table. A woman who looks almost exactly like me is holding a baby just a few months old, gently coaxing the child to call my husband "Daddy".

A car accident left me with severe brain injuries. I was left hanging by a thread. My wife, a renowned medical genius, personally operated on me for 18 consecutive hours, pulling me back from death's grasp. Yet, the first words I said to her after waking up were, "Grace, I want a divorce." Her eyes were filled with tears. "Derek, I just saved your life, and now, you want to leave me? Is it because I've been too busy at the hospital? Because I haven't spent enough time with you?" I frowned. "It's exactly because you saved me that I want this divorce. I won't let you sacrifice your reputation for me." The family elders tried to reason with me. "Grace is such a wonderful wife. She takes care of everything and loves you deeply. Why insist on a divorce? Why throw away such happiness?" No matter who approached me, I dismissed them with the same response. "If you think she's so perfect, then she'll be available once we're divorced." The elders were furious. "Fine! Get your divorce! But don't come crying to us when you regret it!" I whispered under my breath, "The only thing I regret is not divorcing her sooner."

I was the heiress switched at birth by a nanny. It was not until I turned eighteen that my biological parents finally found me, and traded me back for the girl they had raised and loved as their own. However, fate played a cruel joke that very same week. My parents died in a car accident. The family business collapsed. In one night, I lost everything. My older brother survived, but his kidneys failed. I did not hesitate. I gave him mine. However, grief broke something in him. Blaming me for our parents' deaths, he spiraled into madness. "You killed Mom and Dad! Why wasn't it you who died instead?" he screamed. I gave up college and took on three jobs a day just to pay for his treatment. Years passed. One day, while cleaning a mansion as a housekeeper, I saw her, the "sister" I was traded for, gliding through a lavish party, dressed in designer clothes and dripping in jewels. I froze when I heard the voices I had long thought silenced. My parents, alive, speaking to her as gently as ever: "Jasmine, you're so compassionate… agreeing to end Helen's punishment early." My brother, the one who should still be seeing a therapist, frowned and objected. "No. Not even a day less. Just because she suffers a little doesn't mean she deserves to live." I glanced down at the medical report still warm in my hands. For the first time in years, I smiled. "Perfect," I whispered. "Now I can finally die like I wanted to."

The day my husband was away on a business trip, I received a notification for a hotel charge. As I watched the video on my phone of him kissing his secretary on their way to the room, I dialed his number. “Honey, you need to come home right away. Mom was in a serious car accident,” I said. Before I could finish, Xavier Smith cut me off. “It’s just a car accident. We’ll deal with it if she dies.” He hung up without a hint of concern and went back to his cozy time with his secretary in their hotel room. He was completely unaware that the woman in critical condition at the hospital wasn’t my mom. It was his.

Edward Sterling is playing in his university's freshman basketball tournament when my parents banish me abroad. My biological sister and my fiancée are both on the sidelines, cheering for him. That spotlight should've been mine. The jersey he's wearing, with a star player's autograph on it, was supposed to be my 14th birthday gift. Edward and I have been rivals for most of our lives. It never matters whether I'm right or wrong—the moment he plays the victim, my parents rush to defend him and scold me without hesitation. But I am their biological son! It's not until I die alone and sick in a foreign country that I finally understand one thing. If I ever get a second chance, I'll never again fight Edward for love that was never mine to begin with.

I fell in love with my wife the moment I met her, and we eventually got married. She got pregnant not too long after that. Blessed me, but barely a week later, she suffered from excessive bleeding and was taken to the hospital. We lost the baby. The doctor yelled at me because he thought I didn't hold back my urges. That was why we lost the baby. I was flabbergasted. I had never slept with my wife ever since she got pregnant.

The bedroom was dark, and I was holding my wife's hand, feeling like I wanted to do something a little daring. But as I moved her hand, she suddenly stopped me, her hand trembling slightly. When the movie ended and the lights came on, I was shocked to realize that the person beside me wasn't my wife, but our neighbor, Lesley Mendoza...

At the parent-teacher conference, Emery Carey's essay, My CEO Mom, won first place, earning thunderous applause from the class. But the mood soured when my daughter ran to me in tears, her cheeks marked with red handprints. "Emery hit me again. He said I don't belong in his class and spat in my face." I scooped her up and marched to the teacher to demand answers. The teacher brushed it off. "It's just kids' horseplay. Don't blow it out of proportion. Emery's mother is the CEO of Mills Group. Get the picture and pull your kid out. Don't affect the mood." I froze, shocked by the absurdity. Then I dialed my lawyer. "Prepare the divorce agreement. Olivia is leaving with nothing." She'd been using my money to fund her lover and his son. That betrayal would not go unpunished.