Hypocrisy

My sister-in-law finally became pregnant at fifty. But the family parrot, Pip, suddenly said, “Abort it. Abort it.” Hearing this, I immediately forced my sister-in-law to go to the hospital to get an abortion. My brother and parents desperately stopped me. They shouted, “Have you gone mad? Do you trust an animal’s words?” I nodded and answered firmly, “Yes. I believe everything Pip says.”

Nasa palengke ako ng may matandang babae na hindi ko kilala ang humawak sa kamay ko ng mahigpit. Agad ko na pinrotektahan ang baby bump ko, pero sinabi niya, “May naglagay ng swap spell sa iyo. Malapit na ilipat ang patay na bata sa katawan mo.” Sa tingin ko sinungaling siya, pero sinabi niya, “Bilisan mo at subukan pasukahin ang sarili mo. Dapat mo subukan isuka ang isdang kinain mo hanggang sa kaya mo.”

Maya Beckham was Oscar Francis's first love. After four long years abroad, she had assumed any feelings he once held for her had turned to dust. Yet when she returned to Elminas, he proposed. Everyone swore Maya was the love of his life—his one true love, his everything. Touched beyond words, she finally gathered the courage to say yes. …Until the day she discovered Oscar secretly marrying her half-sister, Diana Beckham. She stormed toward him like a woman possessed, her voice trembling with rage. "Explain." Oscar met her fury with infuriating calm. "You vanished without a word four years ago. Diana stayed. Now she's dying—this is her last wish. How could I refuse?" Maya's lips curled into a faint, unreadable smile. What Oscar didn't know? She was the one diagnosed with a difficult illness back then. Later, Maya got into an accident and forgot Oscar entirely. Oscar broke down. Day after day, he pounded on her door like a madman, begging her to remember.

On day two of Matthew's so-called business trip, I was wiping down the counter when I said, "Auri, play some music." Instead of music, a syrupy voice chirped, "Sure thing, my Baby Moon. Oh, and Matthew, don't forget Bibi's birthday surprise tonight." I froze. The speaker blasted some random playlist, but all I heard was 'Bibi.' Matthew Kein was my husband. So who the hell was Bibi? I called him. "Did you mess with our smart speaker?" A beat of silence, then his fake laugh. "Oh, a buddy dropped by. Probably logged his account in. Why?" I laughed back like I bought it, then hung up. Two taps later, I was scrolling the login history, already hailing a cab to the company tied to that mystery account.

On Independence Day, I was on my way to my boyfriend's house when a car slammed into me. The stretch of road was deserted. The collision jammed my door shut, and the acrid smell of gasoline filled the air. My car was about to explode. I scrambled for the emergency hammer, only to find it had been swapped out for a pink toy mallet. Panic rising in my chest, I dialed my boyfriend's number. To my horror, his ringtone sounded from the very car that had crashed into me. He stepped out, arm wrapped around his childhood sweetheart. She put on a pitiful face, tears in her eyes. "Oh no, I'm so clumsy. It's my first time driving, and I hit someone." When my boyfriend realized the victim was me, he didn't hesitate to console her. "Don't worry. She must have collided with you on purpose." I pounded on the window, desperate. "Nick! The emergency hammer's been switched out. Help me get out of here!" His childhood sweetheart lit up with a mischievous smile. "Katie, I swapped it! Isn't the pink hammer super cute?" Disgust flickered across Nick's face. "It's just a little crash. Get out on your own." By now, thick smoke was pouring into the car, and the heat was searing my lungs. I begged him to save me. But the girl only giggled, covering her nose in mock annoyance. "Katie, why are you cooking in there? The smoke is awful." Then she patted her stomach. "Oops, my tummy is rumbling. Nick, let's go home and eat." He tightened his hold around her and turned to leave. "Enough already. Stop pretending. My parents are waiting for us at home." Just as suffocation closed in on me, I slammed my hand against the car's emergency distress button.

My dad never got over his first love, so he traded me for her daughter, Irene. I spent twenty years like that before they finally took me back and named me the real heiress. So when it was time to pick a husband, I didn't care about anything else. I just wanted someone with a clean past. Like Shane Terrell. Detective captain. Cold, intimidating, and known for ignoring women—yet when he confessed, his ears went red. "Lana Laurent, you're my first. You have to take responsibility for me." I believed him. Thought I'd found the one. Then Irene came back. I stood in our house and watched Shane hold her, crying. "Why'd you make me lie to her? Why'd you make me marry her? You're the one I loved first!"

The day before my engagement to Dean was announced, his childhood sweetheart falsely claimed I had broken her fingers when she was playing the piano. Dean flew into a rage and made me join the medical relief team in Loasia. Now that I was abandoned with just the clothes on my back, I had no choice but to fend for myself. Not long after, I was informed that he was getting married. Everyone bet that I would fly back to steal him away. After all, I had been head over heels in love with him. However, I never appeared even at the end of the wedding. I didn't even call him. I had vanished into thin air. … Five years later... A man, heavily injured from a car crash, arrived at the emergency department. His significant other demanded that he be operated on by the hospital director. I calmly held up my scalpel in the operating theatre, my face hidden behind a surgical mask. "Administer the anesthesia." Before he could be sedated, the man suddenly grabbed my wrist. Tears streamed down his cheeks as he demanded weakly, "Eve, is that you?" I pulled his hand away from mine and shot the anesthetist a look. "The patient is aggravated. Increase the dosage."

Most people often see marriage as a reincarnation for women. So, countless foolish women jump into one without a second thought. Many people see my husband as the perfect husband. He cared for me and loved me in every way. Yet, he still cheated on me right under my nose. Faced with the hypocrisy and ugliness behind his facade as a perfect husband, I've decided to serve him karma on a silver platter!

When my boyfriend, Mark Jamison, gets in a car accident that leaves him paralyzed, I pawn the ring my mother left to me before she died to help him. With hands that have never been used to do any work or a single household chore in my life, I start lugging around delivery bags. In the middle of a rainstorm, I get assigned to deliver a food order worth 10,000 dollars, with a 100-dollar tip. Just as I happily celebrate my luck, I overhear the raucous laughter coming from inside the villa. "She actually believes you got paralyzed in a car accident? She now spends all day doing deliveries just to support you financially? She even sold off her dead mom's ring?" "She'd probably cry her heart out if she ever finds you're actually a wealthy scion worth tens of billions of dollars, who's just pretending to be poor!" Mark twirls the wineglass he's holding and says, "A lowly woman like her was born to wait on others. She brought it upon herself by always being better than Rosie back in school. Messing with her is the punishment she deserves." I continue to stand in the rain, tears rolling down my cheeks. This is how I find out Mark has spent the last two years faking his condition just to help his childhood sweetheart get back at me. His so-called paralyzed legs, deceased parents, and helpless tears are all just part of a meticulously executed lie. I haven't talked to my father, the richest man in town, for years. But now, I have finally decided to call him. "I lost, Dad. I'll accept the marriage alliance and marry the guy you picked for me."

For over thirty years, my wife Janet faked being broke—for her flimsy ex. When our son Asher landed in the hospital, I begged and borrowed from everyone I knew. Still came up fifty bucks short. Janet? Said she was tapped out. So my mom sold off her own meds to cover the bill—never told me. She died without treatment. I handled my mom's funeral alone. When I went to pick up Asher from the hospital, I found a stash of Janet's old shopping receipts. Custom suits. Million-dollar watches. A damn private jet. I grabbed them and stormed off to confront her. Asher cut me off. "Dad, Mr. Sackett's sick. Mom's just helping him out. Why are you freaking out?" I stared at the kid who only lived because my mom died. It felt like something cracked inside me. Janet barely looked up. "Connor's educated. He deserves the finer things. Unlike you—crying over fifty bucks like some househusband. See? I didn't give you the money, and Asher's fine." Fine. If that's how they see it, I'm done with this family.