Psychological Realism

I was working as a security guard in one of those fancy residential areas when, one day, a property owner handed me 7,000 dollars and asked me to go down to the underground garage to lend a hand. Now, I reckon I didn’t expect what I found there. Inside one of those expensive cars was a woman—a beauty, mind you, with her eyes a little bleary and her cheeks flushed. She was stretching her long, slender legs wide apart, with one hand reaching down... well, you get the idea. It wasn’t exactly what I thought I’d be dealing with when I signed up for this job. The voice on the other end of the phone gave a command, “Take off her tight skirt, let her raise her hips, and have your way with her!"

After years of living abroad without children, I decided to return home to handle my inheritance matters. However, before I could step into my house, I was stopped by a group of people at the entrance. The woman leading the group pointed at me and started screaming. "I can't believe someone as young as you is seducing a man old enough to be your father! How disgusting can you be?" I watched her, noticing how much she resembled my older brother, and I was shaking with rage. They pulled out my fingernails, broke my ribs, and slashed my face, dragging me around the neighborhood as I begged for mercy. Yet, they remained indifferent to my pleas. Just as I was on the verge of losing hope, my brother, Edward Grange rushed over.  Through a mouthful of blood, I managed to choke out, "Ed, I’d rather die than let her inherit my inheritance…”

On Thanksgiving, my husband Steven Mandel showed up with another woman. Not just anyone—Fiona Osborne, his first love. She had Alzheimer's and only remembered him. And yeah, he said she was moving in. Steven's eyes were ice. "Erica, I stayed away from Fiona out of duty. But I'm not wasting what time I have left without her." Happy 50th anniversary to me. No gift—just a slap-in-the-face love confession. Maya, my daughter-in-law, tried to talk some sense into him, bless her. Then Anton—my own son—cut in. "Mom already kept Dad away from Fiona for years. She's tied ME to you for half my life. Now Dad just wants to take care of the woman he loves—what's so wrong with that?" Steven stepped in front of Fiona like some kind of hero. "Anton's right. Erica, I let you play the wife role for decades. Now, I want to be with the woman I truly love. "If you can't handle that, let's just get a divorce." I stood there, frozen. I'd walked away from a powerhouse law career for this family after we had Anton. I thought I had given everything, and in their eyes, I would be a perfect wife and a perfect mother. But today made it clear—I was never enough. No matter how much I gave, it was never going to be enough. I turned to Maya. She was crying. "You wanna get divorced together?"

A car accident left my mother-in-law bleeding and desperate for help, but her plea was heartlessly rejected by her own daughter. Even on her deathbed, my mother-in-law's only wish was to see her one last time. However, she was busy staying by her first love's side, euthanizing his dog. "You better stay as far away from me as possible! My mom's perfectly fine!" she shouted before hanging up on me, only to spend the night tangled with her first love in a hotel room. It was not until after the cremation ceremony that she returned—carrying a birthday cake. What greeted her was not a celebration but her mother's funeral. She cried, sobbing uncontrollably, "Mom! You haven't even celebrated my birthday yet! Don't leave me!" I stared at her and pulled the divorce papers from my bag. How fitting. This time, I was leaving too.

When Callum abandoned me, feverish and shivering on a mountain road, just to watch a meteor shower with the young woman he had raised, I decided to divorce him. His good friend, Emmet, advised him to try winning me back. "Look Cal, sisters are sisters, but a wife takes priority. You’d better not mix up what matters most." Callum, however, dismissed the idea with a confident smile. "She’s bluffing. Does she really think she’ll go through with the divorce?" "All these years, I’ve given her a place to belong. Without me, she wouldn’t even have a home. Leave me? She wouldn’t dare.  "Just wait. Before the cooling-off period ends, she’ll come back crying and begging me to take her in."  But thirty days passed, and I never looked back. While he scoured the world searching for me, I sipped tea in a misty mountain villa, utterly at peace. "James," I remarked to my step-brother, "your place truly feels like home."

My dormmate invites me to a college mate's engagement party. I choose an expensive tailor-made gown for the occasion. When I arrive at the hotel, I see several of my former classmates are already there. Everyone looks like they're doing well—they're wearing expensive clothing. Someone is even wearing something from a luxury brand. As soon as I enter the private room, a familiar classmate rolls her eyes at me. "Look at who it is—the woman who was once the most outstanding student in our class. You're dressed so plainly for such an important occasion." Everyone is circled around the classmate who's wearing something from a luxury brand. They ignore me. Only our former class monitor clinks glasses with me and consoles me softly. "It's good enough that you're here. You're dressed plainly, but don't give up. You'll succeed one day." I sip my wine and smile. "My outfit may not be too opulent, but it's an expensive, tailor-made piece. It's 100% handcrafted by a master designer."

My daughter accidentally scratched my husband's young mistress's face with her nails. For that, my husband had her fingers chopped off. Covered in blood, she came home seeking help, only to be assaulted by an intruder. I called my husband, crying, but his mistress's sweet voice answered the phone. "Stop using these lowly tricks to get Jack's attention. All you're doing is making him sick!" I begged my husband to take my call, but all I got in return was a barrage of insults. "Nothing is more important than Yvonne's face! I'm busy taking her to the hospital! I don't have time for your drama!" Later, my daughter's organs were removed by the intruder. Even in death, she was still tightly holding onto the birthday gift she had prepared for her father. My husband, a top lawyer, personally defended the criminal who assaulted our daughter. He let that man walk away scot-free after what he had done. On the day he celebrated his birthday with all our relatives, he finally knew that our daughter had died. He completely lost his mind.

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 I found out I wasn't really an Adelson, Sharon—their real daughter—stormed in and stabbed me—over and over. Just like that, my shot at being a mom? Gone. Chuck Benetton, my fiancé, lost it. My parents swore they'd disown her. To "comfort" me, Chuck proposed on the spot. My parents handed me the severance letter—Sharon officially disowned—and told me to just focus on healing. Later, they said Sharon had run off and gotten trafficked in Nyamara, some hotspot for scams and lost souls. They said it served her right. And yeah... I believed them. Six years into the lie, I saw her—very much alive, baby bump and all, curled up against my husband like she owned him. "If I hadn't snapped back then, Yasmine never would've married you, " she said. "Thank God you and Mom and Dad backed me. Otherwise, that imposter would've landed me in jail. "She probably never guessed I've been right here, carrying your baby. Once I give birth, just fake an adoption. She can nanny our kid forever. "Thanks for everything, Chuck." She smiled like he was her hero. And he blushed. "Don't thank me. Marrying her was the only way to protect you. I'd do it all again." So yeah. The guy I thought loved me? He was always lying. My "parents"? They only cared about Sharon. If that's love, I want nothing to do with it.

Jesse is an indie-band producer, a hedonistic ass, and a cynic. He doesn't believe in the idea of love and romance. For him it was all about clinical sex, small talks over cigarettes, and detached one-night stands. Everything was less about connection and more about hooking-up. And then he meets K. The beautiful, mysterious and dangerously alluring K. There was just something about K that pulled him to her. Challenged and charmed, Jesse goes on to pursue her. They get into an unlikely relationship, that pushes both their emotional, psychological and physical boundaries. ********************************************** 'K.' tells us the story of a young adult in New York, who use dating apps to meet others for fun with no strings attached. It will soon develop to another direction, as the protagonist evolves - both psychologically and emotionally.