Why Do Some Books Become Regretful Reads?

Seven years into her marriage, Maria was diagnosed with brain cancer. For her husband Richard and son Jonathan, she bet on a 50-50 percent chance of survival. Enter Eleanor, her husband's old flame and one true love. It was then that Maria realized the painful truth: her marriage to Richard was nothing but a scam. When Eleanor appeared, everything changed. Richard made her his secretary at work, while his best friend addressed her as Mrs. Shaw—a title that should belong to Maria. Even Jonathan came to believe that Eleanor would make a better mother. Maria gave up entirely. In a final act of despair, she severed all ties with Richard and Jonathan before vanishing into thin air. When Richard and Jonathan finally saw Maria's cancer diagnosis, they were filled with regret. They traced her overseas and groveled at her feet, begging for her forgiveness just so she would look their way—but she didn't spare them a glance. Who needs a heartless husband and an ungrateful son?

After the SAT, I come across a post online. Someone posts, "If you could make a choice all over again, which major would you choose this time?" The comments are filled with people wishing they had chosen a different major. They all have their own regrets. One response stands out from the rest. "I would choose literature. That way, he and I wouldn't have missed out on the four years we should have spent together because of that unwanted baggage." I chuckle and am about to scroll past when I suddenly notice the profile picture and username. They are identical to those of my childhood sweetheart, Winter Andersen. I click into the profile. Everything matches her current account exactly, except that the age is ten years older. My heart sinks to my stomach. This has to be her ten years in the future. No wonder I am the only one celebrating when we are admitted to the same major. No wonder she zones out for so long after seeing my best friend, Simon Brown, receive his acceptance letter from the literature department. It turns out I am the unwanted baggage responsible for so many of her regrets and disappointments. Since that is the case, I quietly press "Accept" on the admission offer written entirely in a foreign language. I shall end this mistake ten years ahead of schedule.

Macie Smith has been married to Edward Fowler for two years—two years of being his housekeeper, tirelessly devoted, and wholly inferior. Two years was enough to grind away every bit of her love for him. Their marriage ends when his first love returns from abroad. Starting from now, they have nothing to do with each other. They don't owe each other anything. "I'm no longer blinded by love, Edward. Do you think I'd spare you a second glance if you were to stand before me now?" … Edward signs the divorce papers without hesitation. He knows Macie loves him more than life itself—how could she possibly leave him? He waits for her to regret everything—she'll come back in tears, begging for him to take her back. However, he realizes that she seems to be serious this time. She doesn't love him anymore. … Later, the truth is revealed, and the past is unraveled. It turns out Edward has gotten Macie wrong this whole time. He panics, regrets, and begs for her forgiveness. He wants a reconciliation. Macie is so annoyed by his behavior that she sends out a notice asking for a husband. Edward is so jealous that he almost loses his mind. He wants to start again but realizes that he doesn't even meet her minimum requirements.

The seventh time Claire Fisher bailed on our marriage license appointment, I finally cut her out of my life—for good. From then on, if she was at a party, I wasn't. When she was scheduled to perform at our college's anniversary celebration, I made sure to leave early. The moment my company announced a collaboration with hers, I resigned without a second thought. Even on Christmas Eve, when she showed up at my parents' house with gifts, I slipped out with a half-hearted excuse about "visiting a friend." I blocked her number. Deleted her from my contacts. Burned every bridge and salted the earth behind me. No calls. No texts. No social media. I didn't reach out. She couldn't reach me. Simple as that. For the better part of my life, I was hopelessly in love with her—waiting on her, caring for her, putting her first in every way that mattered. I gave her all of me without ever holding back. But after the seventh time she left me sitting alone at the City Hall, something inside me broke. I was done. If that meant spending the rest of my life alone, so be it. Better that than sitting in an empty apartment, listening to the silence, holding on to hope for someone who never planned to show up.

My parents have always been biased against me, even as a child. They leave me in the countryside while raising my brother themselves. When I'm finally brought to live with them, they neglect me because they don't want my brother to be upset. When my brother says that I'm rude and falsely accuses me of getting people to assault him, my parents believe him without a shadow of doubt. And so, I'm sent to a residential treatment center. Under my parents' tacit permission and my brother's persuasion, the teachers at the center "educate" me inhumanely. In the end, I learn my lesson, as everyone wishes. I die while learning it, too.

Everette and Jack know next to nothing about romance novels.... or women. So when they accidentally join a book club full of both, they have no idea what to think. But, as the book and time goes on, the ladies in their book club become more interested in a different plot. The love lives of both men.