Romantic Short Story

“คุณหนูจะกลับเลยมั้ยครับ” “กลับเลย หงุดหงิดมาก” เสียงบ่นของนานี่ที่ดูจะไม่สบอารมณ์ ก่อนที่จะเดินปึงปังขึ้นรถไปโดยมีบอดี้การ์ดส่วนตัวเดินตามไปติดๆ เมื่อกลับมาถึงคอนโด นานี่ก็ล้มตัวลงนอนบนเตียงโดยที่ไม่ได้ถอดแม้กระทั้งรองเท้า “คุณหนูอาบน้ำก่อนดีกว่าครับ เดี๋ยวผมไปเตรียมนมอุ่นให้” “ทีโอ ... นายทำอะไรอ่ะ” นานี่เอ่ยทั้งที่ไม่ยอมลืมตาเมื่อรู้สึกว่าบอดี้การ์ดคู่ใจกำลังทำบางอย่าง บอดี้การ์ดหนุ่มค่อยๆถอดรองเท้าส้นสูงออกจากขาเรียวก่อนจะเดินเอามันไปเก็บที่ชั้นเก็บรองเท้าสุดหรูของนานี่ “นายดูแลฉันดีกว่าเมียอีกเนอะ”

เมื่อความเย็นชามีผลมาจากคนรักที่จากตาย เมื่อเจอรักใหม่ผลลับจากรักแรกก็มาลงที่รักปัจจุบัน เมื่อพ่อเลี้ยงเดี่ยวต้องเปิดใจอีกครั้ง

ชายหนุ่มผู้หลงไหลในการเดิมพัน ชีวิตผูกติดกับการเดิมพัน และสังเวียนการต่อสู้ ที่แลกมาด้วย เงิน ชีวิต และหญิงสาว แข็งกร้าวมาตั้งแต่เด็ก ครอบครัวหล่อหลอมให้เขาไม่ยอมใครง่ายๆ แม้จะขาดใจก็ตาม “พี่บาร์อยู่มั้ยค่ะคุณอา” หญิงสาวหน้าหวานเรียบร้อยน่ารัก กำลังเอ่ยทักหญิงวัยกลางคนแม่ของชายหนุ่ม “อ้าวลลิส มากับใครลูก” เรมี่เอ่ยทักขึ้น “พอดีหนูกำลังจะไปเรียนค่ะ แวะเอาขนมมาฝาก” “อ่อจ้า เดี๋ยวอาเก็บไว้ให้บาร์นะ เมื่อคืนไม่ได้กลับบ้าน” “อ่อ งั้นหนูฝากด้วยนะคะ” ลลิส หญิงสาววัย18ที่กำลังจะเรียนจบมัธยมปลาย เธิสดใสสมวัยและไร้เดียงสาเพราะมองโลกในแง่ดี ผลั่ก!!! ผัวะ!!!! เสียงการต่อสู้ซึ่งเกิดขึ้นหลังจากการเดิมพันผิดพลาด ชายหนุ่มที่เลือดอาบแขน อาบตัวเพราะฟาดฟันคนมานับสิบก่อนจะมาถึงห้องนี้ “อย่ามาแตะต้องหนู!!! อย่านะ!!!! หนูสกปรก!!!!”

My son was caught in a car accident. My husband said that without a cornea donor, he would be trapped in darkness forever. Heartbroken, I let him sweet-talk me into signing away my corneas. Blind, I overheard my son gloating, "Dad, the plan worked. Mom fell for it, and Rachel's got her sight back. She won't be miserable anymore." "Yeah, now we're a real family with her," replied my husband. The truth gutted me. They'd played me like a fool to save my husband's old flame. When I confronted them, Rachel Huffman shoved me down a staircase, and I died in agony. But when I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day of my son's car accident.

In my previous life, everything I do to care for myself somehow ends up benefiting my new housekeeper instead. I apply expensive skincare, yet dark spots and fine lines spread across my face, whereas the 45-year-old housekeeper's face becomes silkier. I jog every morning, yet my body only grows heavier and bulkier, while hers becomes slender and toned. When my husband notices the stretch marks on my abdomen, his face twists with disgust, and he never touches me again. "I genuinely can't bring myself to touch you. How can you look worse than Mirabelle when you take such good care of yourself?" My housekeeper looks at me with a sinister smile. A chill crawls up my spine, and the strange feeling makes me fire her on the spot. Yet, as soon as she leaves, I start aging at lightning speed, entering menopause 20 years early and developing diabetes and high blood pressure. I see every doctor I can, but after hanging on for a week, I die from a stroke. When I open my eyes again, I'm back on the day she first reports to work. This time, I push away the royal jelly she sets in front of me with a pleasant smile. "I've been avoiding certain foods lately. You can have it instead."

A video of my boyfriend proposing to his secretary makes it to the trending topics. Everyone squeals over how romantic and touching it is. His secretary even posts on social media, "I've waited so long for you to appear, and I'm glad I didn't give up. I'll leave my life in your hands, Mr. Emerson." One of the comments goes, "God, this is so sweet. A CEO and his secretary—I ship them!" I don't weep or cause a fuss. Instead, I close the webpage and ask my boyfriend for an explanation. That's when I hear him talking to his friends. "I didn't have a choice. She would've been forced to marry someone she doesn't love if I didn't help her." "What about Vicky? She's your actual girlfriend. Aren't you afraid of her getting mad?" "So what if she is? She's been with me for seven years—she can't live without me." Later, I have my wedding on the same day as his. Our cars drive past each other, and I exchange bouquets with his secretary. When he sees me, he breaks down.

My boy friend Caleb Ford's childhood sweetheart, Julia Leclair, is losing her hair from chemotherapy. So, he orders me to cut mine off and make her a wig. "Julia's allergic to synthetic wigs. You've been growing your hair for ten years—it's perfect." I refuse, but his friends tie me down. Someone shaves my head to the scalp, buzzing through my thick, glossy hair until nothing's left but a butchered mess. Julia sits in her wheelchair and laughs, saying I look like a toad. Caleb smiles and nods in agreement. He adds with a chuckle, "It's just some hair. Was that really necessary?" But back when I was bullied for having uneven, choppy short hair for six straight years, it was he who stood in front of me. He had his arms spread wide as he shielded me from harm. Now he's the one wielding the blade. One by one, their little circle chimes in. They tell me not to hold a grudge against someone who's sick. Caleb snaps impatiently, "Stop trying to talk sense into her. She can get lost! Did you see that fit she threw over a few strands of hair? It's not like they won't grow back." I turn around and walk away. I never look back. Later, I hear that Caleb begs for my forgiveness by kneeling his way up 9000 steps until his knees are ruined.

My dormmate falls in the dorm and sends the rest of us the hospital bill. She wants us to compensate her. "I only fell because you guys left a puddle of water at the door. It's only right that you compensate me, don't you think? It's not much—you each just have to give me a thousand dollars to cover the checkup, medication, transport, the classes I missed, and the mental distress I suffered." I exchange looks with my two other dormmates. All three of us politely decline. That's when she goes berserk. She screeches threateningly, "Do you know who my father is? I'll make sure you guys can't graduate if you don't compensate me!"

I was shattered to learn that my precious child was not mine. My own flesh and blood was gone forever. I was not going to crumble under the weight of the revelation or consume myself with hysteria or grief. Instead, I channeled my pain into putting my mother-in-law behind bars and breaking my husband before moving on with my life.

Trevor Farren cheated on me—with a hostess, no less. He bought her a villa, handbags, necklaces, and even whisked her away to the Maldives. Everything I had, she had too. In my fury, I resolved to retaliate. I found myself in the smoky halls of a nightclub, learning shameful, provocative moves from the women there. I would seduce him and make him fall for me all over again. I vowed to crush him in the end. I'd ruin him. Strip him of everything he held dear until he tasted the bitterness of despair, the way I had. Standing before the mirror, I traced my curves with a sly smile. "Trevor, do you like what you see?"