Psychological Realism

On the day we decided to get a divorce, I saw Miranda’s account book while I was packing up my stuff. Aside from our daily expenses, Miranda had also set up a scoring sheet for me. Miranda had taken notes of all the things I had done ever since we started dating. Some of them were such miniscule things that even I had forgotten. She took note of them all with a red pen, and she scored them by either awarding me points or deducting them. However, the further down the sheet, the more points were deducted. In the end, I saw Miranda add one line in black ink. [He’s no longer the Henry Jones who used to love me: -100]

I was a washed-up singer, but my wife forced me to attend a divorce variety show. I tried my best to earn money for the family, but on the show, she said that I was worthless. She even got to know the son of an affluent family. She called the guy babe and went to his room whilst wearing seductive clothes. I couldn't stand it anymore and tried to stop her, but she cursed, "You're just a useless piece of garbage! You can't even afford to buy me a decent bag. I thought your earnings would improve over the years, but your earnings are still nowhere near enough. Why can't I pursue the happiness I want? Get out of my sight!"

In my past life, I toiled away at the Lincoln family and treated my in-laws like they were a king and a queen. I also gave my stepson the best education possible and helped him get into a renowned college. Yet, I later ended up dead on the street. My stepson said, "You're not my mother. You'll never be her!" He breaks my legs, kicks me out of the house, and watches as I starve to death. It's only after my death that I find out he's the illegitimate son of my husband and his true love! When I open my eyes again, I'm back to the day my husband, Simon Lincoln, brings my stepson home.

It's my third day of being a ghost, and I feel like I'm going to starve to death again. The underworld messenger takes pity on me because I'm a child and secretly tells me that people like me, who suffered grievances and died with resentment, have to stay by the sides of the people who loved us most in life. Then, we survive on their "guilt". I lower my head and narrow my eyes. I choke up and say, "You might as well just leave me to starve." My mother hated me to the core. Why would she ever be guilty over my death?

After the birth of our daughter, my husband left for a dangerous mission. My in-laws' initial joy soured, and they regarded my baby with disdain. Maria, my mother-in-law, was particularly scornful. In a rare show of familial love, my father-in-law Lincoln took my daughter out for a playdate. I thought he had finally grown fond of her, only for him to strike me the moment he returned. "How dare you betray my son! I'll kill you!" "Yes! Beat that loose woman to death together with that brat!" Shifting my gaze from the report on the floor to my furious father-in-law, I pulled out several photos—my naked mother-in-law Maria, caught with another man. "Let's see who the real loose woman is!"

After nursing the baby, I closed my eyes to rest for a moment. The nanny, thinking I was asleep, brazenly clung to my husband, cooing, "Harlan, if your wife finds out that the son she gave birth to was swapped out long ago and that the baby in her arms is actually ours, do you think she’d be furious?” “You’re so smart. Swapping the babies at the hospital was brilliant. Once our daughter inherits her fortune, we’ll kick her out of the house in no time!” I pretended not to hear their conversation. I continued to raise my daughter with utmost care and devotion. When she returned from her studies, I immediately transferred all my shares to her, supporting her to become the youngest heir of the company. At the handover celebration, the nanny dressed even more extravagantly than I did. She boldly grabbed my daughter and declared, “I am Yasmine’s real mother! You’ve kept her from me all these years, but now it’s time that the truth is revealed!” My husband handed me the divorce papers with a smug look. “For Yasmine’s sake, let’s part ways amicably.” My daughter folded her arms and glared at me. “Since you raised me for so many years, I’ll visit you in the nursing home once a year.” Watching their victorious smiles, I lowered my eyes. “As you wish.” I hope you’re ready to handle the kind of wealth that shatters the heavens!

On the day my daughter is discharged from the hospital after recovering from the flu, I run into my ex-husband, Zachary Levine, whom I have been divorced from for seven years. He is there to pick up his wife, who has just given birth. He looks a little surprised as his gaze moves up and down to take in my clothes, which is still stained from my child's vomit. I had no time to change out of it earlier. "Long time no see. How have you been lately?" he asks. I smile and say I am doing fine. As we are about to part, he grabs my arm. "Alyssa, our son misses you a lot. If you are having any difficulties, don't push yourself. The passcode for the house in the north of the city is still your birthday. You can go there anytime." I politely decline, and he lets out a sigh. "After all these years, you are still as stubborn as you were back then. Don't hate me." I smile but say nothing. There needs to be love for there to be hate. But now, he is just a stranger to me.

I, Lilian Newton, am the top luxury goods repair specialist. 90 percent of the store's revenue comes from me. Three years on the job, I turn a little shop that nearly goes bankrupt into a nationwide chain. Just because I am two minutes late to work, the new manager locks the front door and plans to take the staff on a trip. I ask her why I was not informed. She scoffs and says, "The capable should do more work. We are going on a trip. You stay behind to work overtime. If you can't handle it, then get lost!" I laugh in exasperation and call my husband right away. "I hear you're planning to fire me. Is that it?"

In the third year after my death, my mother finally remembered me. But it wasn't out of longing—it was because my younger sister's leukemia had relapsed, and she urgently needed a bone marrow transplant. Clutching a donation agreement, my mother made her way to the basement I once lived in. She kicked open the door and was met with a floor slick with blood and scattered medicine bottles. "Cassidy, what game are you playing this time? Do you really think a self-inflicted act of suffering could fool me? Why are you so selfish? Why won't you save your own sister?" Her voice roared with anger, echoing through the space. From the crowd that had gathered to watch, a ragged little boy stepped forward. "Are you talking about Cassidy Porter? She… she died three years ago of organ failure… she vomited so much blood…"

My dad is a rich scion who has been kidnapped to a compound. He keeps telling me that he'll escape with me since I was a little kid. When I was six years old, Dad made all the preparations to escape. He planned on leaving the compound with me. But I didn't hesitate to expose Dad's plans to my grandma just for a piece of bread. While I munched on the bread happily, Dad got strung up on a tree and whipped mercilessly by others. He glared at me resentfully while screaming at me for being a bastard. Hearing his cursing made me sad. I couldn't understand why Dad wanted to leave this home. Three days later, Dad killed himself by smashing his head against a boulder. After Mom got drunk, she accidentally beat me to death. As I felt my life slipping away, I finally understood what Dad meant. When I open my eyes again, I've returned to the day Dad wants to escape. But I choose to expose his plans to Grandma once again.