Melodramatic Music Store Novels & Stories

On the very first day Jason and I made our relationship official, he insisted on handing over his salary for me to manage. He said marriage was only a matter of time and that he trusted his future wife to keep the money safe. On the day of our engagement, Jason demanded that I hand over the $960,000 in salary I had “kept” for him over the past four years. “Each month, I gave you $20,000. In four years, that’s $960,000. After expenses, there should be at least $800,000 left, right? I can’t bear to make my parents empty their savings for my marriage. We will use my savings for the wedding, $600,000 as the down payment for the new apartment, and the remaining $200,000 will be my wedding gift to you.” I froze. “But there isn’t a single dollar left!” Jason exploded. “You wasteful woman! You spent all the money?!” His mother also erupted. “So much money, and you squandered it all! What shameful acts have you been up to?! This marriage is off!” Jason demanded to see the accounts. I immediately pulled out the records in front of everyone. Seeing this, Jason’s mother panicked.

My husband’s newly hired secretary had a terrible temper. Just because he casually picked a bite of food for me at the dinner table, she flew into a fit of rage and smashed every plate and bowl in the house. Then, she threatened to fake her death and deregister herself, saying she would disappear from my husband’s world forever. The moment he heard that, my husband panicked. He immediately abandoned me even though I was about to go into lung cancer surgery, and sped off on the highway, reenacting some over-the-top CEO drama of chase and pursuit. At three in the afternoon, the surgery was scheduled to begin. My husband called. His tone was apologetic. “As a boss, I have a responsibility to ensure the safety of my employees. “Once I find her and make sure she’s safe, I’ll definitely come to the hospital and accompany you for your surgery. I’ll even make it up to you with a wedding trip!” However, I no longer wanted to wait for him. “Julian, let’s get divorced.”

I've been in a three-year relationship with Rosalie Lowe so far. Alas, she's been nothing but courteous toward me due to the fact that she hates physical contact. But on my birthday, I witness the noble and cold-looking girlfriend of mine kissing and hugging another man passionately. Only then do I realize that Rosalie just hates me all this time. At that moment, I decide to set her free and let her stay with the man she truly loves. But Rosalie appears at my wedding and begs me to give her another chance. I just shake my head coldly. "I find women who have gotten tainted by other men filthy."

When we get into a car accident, I use all my strength to push my mother, Sheila Carver, out of the way. But after Mom is saved, she completely ignores me as I lie trapped under the wreckage. Instead, she immediately leads the rescue team over to my younger brother, Lance Howell, who has only scraped his knee, and frantically makes sure it gets disinfected and bandaged. With the last bit of my strength, I beg Mom to save me. But she simply shouts at me with annoyance, "Can't you pick a better time to fight for attention? Do you have any idea that Lance could have been left with a scar?" Soon after, I die from lack of urgent care, and my body turns cold. Mom, however, loses her mind overnight.

Sheila Jenkins was hit by a truck on the fifth anniversary of her wedding. The accident was devastating. Her legs were crushed beneath the vehicle, which rolled over them before finally coming to a stop. Her husband, Joshua Stewart, the man who had been her childhood sweetheart, was so frantic that he gave more than half the blood his body could safely spare, begging the doctors to save her life. When Sheila was finally wheeled out of the operating room, she had not even had the chance to thank him for everything he had done. Still drifting in and out of consciousness, she suddenly overheard a conversation between Joshua and his assistant. "Mr. Stewart, there's still time to save her legs. If the surgeons operate now, they can still treat the damage. Are you really going to give up and let Mrs. Stewart spend the rest of her life crippled?" Joshua's expression remained icy, and his voice was even colder. "I hired someone to hit her for that exact reason. The whole point was to make sure she ended up crippled." His assistant froze. "The only woman I have ever loved is Cecilia. If the Stewart family had not refused to accept her back then, and even threatened her life to force us apart, I never would have buried my feelings and pursued and married Sheila simply because she was the 'right' match. My greatest regret is that I could never give the woman I truly love the title of being my wife. Since I cannot give her my name, I will at least give her the wedding she deserves." He paused before continuing without a trace of emotion. "If Sheila finds out I'm holding a wedding for Cecilia, she'll definitely try to ruin it. This way, she'll be stuck at home, crippled and completely unaware of what's happening." Unable to stay silent any longer, the assistant let out a quiet sigh. "Mr. Stewart, I know the woman you love is Ms. Zeller. I just... don't think Mrs. Stewart deserves this. She hasn't done anything wrong. She has no idea your heart has always belonged to someone else. She doesn't even know that the baby she gave birth to was strangled to death by your own hands... and that the child she's been raising all these years is actually yours and Ms. Zeller's. That's already cruel enough. If she loses her legs too..." Before he could finish, Joshua cut him off, speaking with icy indifference. "What does her suffering have to do with me? The only person I care about is Cecilia. "From my perspective, even if Sheila loses both her legs and her own child... her suffering still isn’t worth a single one of Cecilia’s tears."

My mother had hated my guts for 18 years. On the day I died, they had gone on a vacation and were happily snapping photos. The cops called her, but she got upset because the news marred her mood. So, she retorted, "He'd never take his own life. I bet this is just another one of his attempts to get my money. He can die for all I care. I'm not interested." She had no idea that I was already dead.

My husband finally thinks about me three years after my death. The reason? His childhood sweetheart's leukemia has relapsed, and she needs another bone marrow transplant. He comes to my place, wanting to make me sign a donor agreement. However, he finds that the place has long been vacated. He asks a neighbor about it. "Are you talking about Kristen? She's long dead! I heard it was because someone dragged her away for a bone marrow donation when she was already sick. She died a few days after returning home." My husband refuses to believe that. He thinks my neighbor and I have conspired to lie to him. He says impatiently, "If you see her, tell her I won't pay the medical bills for that child she's been raising if she doesn't come to see me in three days." My neighbor shakes her head when she sees how stubborn my husband is. She mutters, "The poor child has already starved to death, though…"

When my wedding gets delayed for the 99th time, I call the company in charge of planning the wedding and tell them to swap my name out for Julian Foster's childhood sweetheart, Madison Hart. "We understand what you mean, Ms. Sinclair. But are you sure you want to make the change? It seems that Mr. Foster has no intention of delaying the wedding this time." As I listen to the shocked host's words, I stare at the draft on the monitor. Groom: Julian Foster Bride: Olivia Sinclair But the design's special note shows, "Adjust the theme according to champagne yellow, Madison's favorite color." Madison is Julian's childhood sweetheart. Even though he claims that she's only lending a hand in referencing the wedding's designs, the truth is, she's the one calling the shots in the wedding's flower arrangement, wedding gifts, as well as the wedding anthem during the bride's entrance. She even leaves an airy comment about my wedding dress. "A fishtail gown suits her more." After dragging the document into the recycle bin, I reply calmly, "Yes. Please change the bride's name to Madison." I shall return the wedding that's filled with Madison's traces to her and Julian without altering a single thing. After that, I will retreat from this bunch of nonsense unscathed. Finally, we shall part ways permanently. Julian can stay with the woman he truly wants to be with, while I can enjoy the unbridled freedom on my own.

Ever since my little brother died of a sudden high fever and Mom started spending all her time with Matthew Hunt, I started cutting her out of our family photos. One day, Dad got a call from my teacher. She overheard me saying I lost my mom, and I wanted to borrow my classmate's mom instead. Dad paused for a moment, then didn't correct me. "Yeah," he said quietly. "She passed away early." At the school's parent-child sports day, Dad saw me slip a cleaner ten dollars and ask her to be my mom for the day. He didn't stop me. Instead, he handed her another 200 bucks and asked if she could attend the parent meeting, too. After that, whenever something called for a mom, Dad let me go out and "hire" one. It wasn't until much later that Mom realized she hadn't heard from us in a long time. She canceled her meetings and came to pick me up from school herself. But at the gate, the teacher frowned and stopped her. Confused, she went home. The moment she stepped inside, she heard me talking to the property manager. "My mom's dead," I said. "Do you wanna be my new mom?"

I, Darlene Cooley, have an ability. Whenever I touch an object, I can see the scenes it has experienced over the past day. I've been married for five years. Every time I help my husband, Bernard Hoffman, tidy up his suits or organize his briefcase, what I see are conference rooms, whiteboards, and workstations. Once in a while, I appear in those scenes. He'll be secretly reading my messages under his desk, the corners of his mouth lifting unconsciously. Bernard is so gentle that it feels almost unreal. In winter, he places my slippers by the heater to warm them up. No matter how busy his business trips are, he video calls me right on time. When I casually mention I feel like eating caramel popcorn, he drives halfway across the city to stand in line for it. My friends all say I'm blessed, and I feel the same way. That is, until yesterday, when he comes back from a trip. I go to help him unpack, and the moment I touch that gray cashmere sweater, a flood of images rushes in. Bernard is sitting across from a short-haired woman. Her eyes are bright, and a shallow dimple appears when she smiles. He listens to her speak, earnest and focused, with his head tilted slightly to one side. A faint smile lingers at the corner of his mouth. It's been a long time since he has listened to me speak like that. The vision ends. I crouch in front of the suitcase, my hand still resting on the cashmere sweater, unable to snap out of it for a long while. Then, I stand up and walk over to the cabinet, where I pull out my own suitcase.