Short Romance Stories & Novels

During a family dinner, the older relatives smiled and encouraged Dylan Jenkin and me to sit together. But once I sat down, he casually turned away and settled beside my stepsister, Ivy Langford. One of the elders said teasingly, “Aren’t you and Nina joined at the hip? We thought you two might make it official today. Why aren’t you sitting together?” Dylan chuckled and poured Ivy a cup of tea. “Don’t get the wrong idea. Nina and I are just close friends,” he said with calm and casual ease. His gaze swept over me without a hint of affection. Then, he turned to Ivy beside him. His voice grew gentler as he said, “I’ve always liked girls like Ivy.” Laughter echoed around the table, yet a chill settled into my heart. No one knew that we had been secretly dating for three years. After countless nights in each other’s arms, he reassured me that he would tell the family about us once his older brother had a girlfriend. He said they might see his brother as irresponsible and immature if he revealed his relationship first. I finally saw the truth behind those excuses: he simply did not love me. I forced a smile and nodded along with his words. “Yes, we’re just friends.” Dylan exhaled in relief. He was clearly pleased with my response. He had no idea that I was not actually playing along. With those final words, I stopped holding on and gave up on our secret relationship.

When Asher Terrell's family crumbled into bankruptcy, I stood steadfast by his side. We lived in a dank basement, where I toiled through three jobs to help clear their crushing debts. He bounced back and proposed, promising me a true home. Three years into our marriage, I discovered the deed to our house bore the name of his first love. "This is what I owe her," he confessed. Swallowing my pain, I nodded and pushed forward a photo from back when we were crammed in that basement, with a whole table piled high with debt notices. "You've paid your debt to her with our house," I said. "But what about the debt you owe me?"

In the second year of our marriage, which Brett Mason had secured through relentless means, he brought home his latest conquest—a stunning blonde. As the door swung shut, he ran his fingers through her silky hair, flashing me a smug, triumphant grin. "Wanna join us? You might learn a thing or two about not being such a dead fish." I could still recall how he once adored my hair, claiming that just stroking it would melt away his deepest worries. It turned out any woman could serve that purpose. In that instant, a profound sense of release washed over me. I retrieved the divorce agreement I'd stashed away in a drawer and handed it to him. "Sign it, and I'll make room for her." My days were numbered, and I had no intention of wasting what little time remained entangled in his resentment.

Before my wedding to Sophie Bennett, the impoverished student I've been sponsoring for ten years posts a photo on social media. "Successfully moved into the new apartment. Soph prepared such a big, soft bed for me!" In the photo, Zachary Wells lies sprawled on the wedding bed I bought for Sophie and my new home, taking a smug selfie with his hand waving at the camera. He's even wearing my wedding ring on his ring finger. Zachary also comments on his own post, "Just thinking about how I'm the first man to lie on this bed fills me with overwhelming happiness!" I reply with a question mark under his comment. The next second, Sophie's call comes through. "I'm just letting Zach experience the warmth of home. Why are you being so passive-aggressive?" In the background, I hear Zachary softly trying to calm her down. "Soph, he's not worth getting angry over." Hearing that, Sophie laughs and banters with him, then abruptly hangs up on me. The two of us have been together for ten years, from ages 18 to 28, and we've finally made it to our wedding day. But now, I no longer intend to go through with it.

After the cruise ship strikes a hidden reef, panicked passengers shove me and Kristen Langford into the sea. My boyfriend, Elijah Jensen, is the ship's captain, so he plunges into the water. But instead of saving me, he grabs Kristen and boards the last lifeboat. I thrash and cry for help, but he slaps my hand away. "You can swim. Stop pretending for attention!" Elijah snaps. "Kristen's body temperature is dropping. I have to get her to a hospital!" The waters around me are pitch-black, and his words feel like a death sentence. When the tracking bracelet I always wear is discovered inside a shark, Elijah dives alone into shark-infested waters, searching for three days and nights. In the end, the brilliant captain who once ruled the oceans can never sail again.

Everyone in Salt City knew that Michael, the city’s richest man, doted on his wife as if his life depended on it. As his wife, I was once the object of everyone’s envy. But when Rachel appeared, I realized for the first time that even the one who loved you the most did not have their heart set in stone. Afraid I would find out, he hid Rachel in a villa on the outskirts of Salt City and spoiled her beyond imagination, all in a place I could not see. Yet every time he was intimate with her, Michael would still warn her coldly, “If you ever let Evelyn find out about this, your good days will be over.” But she was never obedient. Relying on Michael’s favor, she surreptitiously flaunted herself before me every day. Her presence constantly reminded me that Michael was no longer the man who only had me in his heart. So, I chose to respect his decision and vanish from his sight.

On the seventh year after we moved overseas, my 13-year-old daughter, Anna Jackman, is hailed as the internationally renowned piano prodigy. No matter how difficult the song is, Anna is capable of weaving beautiful melodies with it. But there's only one song that Anna refuses to play. It's a seemingly ordinary lullaby. She's worried that she might end up forgiving that despicable man again once she plays it on the piano. So, when said man, Micah Jackman, turns up on our doorstep with a piano that's handcrafted by a master craftsman and asks Anna to play him the lullaby, she just shakes her head calmly in return. "I don't know how to play that song, sir." Micah's eyes redden immediately. He grabs Anna's hand and navigates it to the piano keys. "That's impossible! Aren't you a piano prodigy, Anna? Haven't you always wanted to have a piano of your own? I've already bought you your own piano this time! From now on, if you have any wishes, you should tell me, and I'll grant them for you." Anna draws back her right hand coldly. "It's fine, sir. I can earn my own money to buy my own piano. You should take the piano back to your daughter." Micah feels as though his heart has plunged into the abyss. He immediately pulls Anna into his arms. "What are you talking about, Anna? You're my only daughter!" But Anna looks a little puzzled. "Didn't you say that Ms. Sinclair's daughter is the only one worthy of becoming your child? Didn't you give the piano you promised for me to Ms. Sinclair's daughter?" Having reached that point, Anna just smiles nonchalantly at Micah. "It's fine, sir. Since you like Ms. Sinclair, you can just raise her daughter. I'm already content enough with Mom by my side."

I received an order to feed someone's dogs at home. But when I opened the door, what greeted me wasn't a hungry pet—it was the campus belle herself. She stuck out her tongue, a glint of metal from her tongue piercing catching the light, and said, "I'm starving…"

Cecilia Jones kept a forgiveness notebook. Six months ago, on Cecilia's birthday, Jeff Lawrence abandoned her to meet Yvonne Smith. It was the 93rd time she’d forgiven him. Three months prior, when Yvonne mentioned she was allergic to cat dander, Jeff gave away the cat Cecilia had raised for years. Cecilia forgave him for the 94th time. One month ago, Jeff got drunk and woke up in the same bed as Yvonne. He insisted that nothing had happened and accused Cecilia of having a dirty mind. Cecilia forgave him for the 95th time.

We got caught in a blizzard—me, my fiancé Melvin Dunn, a few of his colleagues, including Sally Blom. Middle of the night, I woke up shaking. My heavy-duty sleeping bag—the one built for minus forty—was gone. In its place? A flimsy summer quilt. Sally was curled up in my bag, fast asleep in Melvin's arms. I shoved him hard. "Why is she in my sleeping bag?" He pulled me aside, whispering, "Keep your voice down. Sally's kinda fragile—she's about to catch a cold. You're strong. You'll be fine." I pointed at my feet, already numb. "So I'm supposed to freeze to death for you two because she's 'fragile'?" He frowned. "God, Peyton, stop being so dramatic. It's just a sleeping bag. Think about the team for once." I laughed, tears slipping down my face. Didn't say another word. Just crawled back into the corner, grabbed the sat phone, and called my brother—Captain of Stormfang Rescue, an elite international search and rescue team. "Hugh, come get me. The coordinates are... Remember—I'm alone."

On the first day of my husband's business trip, an unknown number calls me. It belongs to an employee of a pharmacy. The employee sounds very anxious over the phone. "Hello, are you related to Mr. Yates by any chance? He came to the pharmacy this afternoon to buy a box of morning-after pills, but he left right away without paying for the pills. Please pay the bill right now." My mind buzzes at the news. Morning-after pills? I suppress my emotions immediately before calling Zachary. I begin probing him afterward. "Where did you go this afternoon, honey? Your credit card statement shows that the payment you've made at a pharmacy has failed to go through." Zachary pauses for half a second before letting out a soft chuckle. "Ah, I bought the pills for a new intern in my department. She's a young woman who gets flustered easily, so I ran an errand for her." I just smile while saying "okay" to Zachary. After ending the call, I call the pharmacy once again, this time in a cold voice. "Send me your pharmacy's address. I'll head over and pay the bill in person."

The day I fail to get into university, my childhood sweetheart breaks off our engagement. Then he delivers the next blow. He's marrying my best friend, Katherine Schaffer, who actually got into a university. They've even already registered their marriage. Crushed by the double betrayal, I leave home to clear my head, only to fall into the hands of human traffickers. Katherine's stepbrother, Dominic Frizzell, spends his entire fortune rescuing me. Even after I lose a hand, he proposes. After we marry, he spoils me in every way. Sometimes it feels like he practically worships me. That goes on for seven years, until one day, I overhear my mother-in-law lecturing him. "You abducted Valerie and cut off her hand just so Katherine could take her place at the university. And to make sure Valerie couldn't get revenge, you even married her. You've done more than enough for Katherine." Dominic's voice holds a quiet melancholy. "It's still not enough. Kat always deserves the best." I freeze behind the door, stunned by the truth. It turns out that all the suffering and every supposed act of salvation were simply Dominic using me.

The hospital suddenly called to inform me that the kidney I had been scheduled to receive had been transferred—by my husband—to his first love. I confronted him. He replied casually, "It's just one kidney. Are you really in such a hurry? Daphne needs it more, so let her have it first. You're not going to die anytime soon anyway!" I stood there holding the medical report proving he had uremia, and in that moment, my three-year marriage felt like a joke. Fine. He was right. I wasn't the one who was sick—so what was I rushing for?

After eight years of dating my boyfriend, Zachary Corington, I finally can't take it anymore and suggest breaking up. Zachary asks, "You're breaking up with me just because I drove over to find you and called your name?" "Yes," I reply. He curls his lips into a mocking smile. "Go on. What do you want this time?" I shake my head and say, "Nothing. I just want you to stop showing up before me."

I was diagnosed with stomach cancer and needed a total gastrectomy. My husband, who was hailed as a rising star in the medical field, personally performed the surgery on me. However, after the operation, my health only worsened. He told me that the cancer had spread too quickly, and there was no hope left. It was not until I accidentally came across a hidden medical report and a massive insurance policy that I learned the truth—I never had stomach cancer. Not only had he removed my stomach, but he had also taken my uterus. Desperate, I confronted him, asking why he did that to me. He held his mistress in his arms, looking at me with disgust as he said, "If your father weren't the director, do you think I would've married you? You're not even worthy of being in the same room as Mabel. After one more surgery to remove your stomach, I'll be promoted to chief physician. "Didn't you claim to love me so much? I'm just using your body to help me and Mabel get ahead... I'm doing you a favor." Then, he and his mistress threw me off the building, making it look like a suicide. When I opened my eyes again, I had gone back to the day of my stomach surgery.

While attending a class reunion with my wife, we ran into her old flame—Caelum Zeth. After the gathering, Talia Grant cornered Caelum against a wall. When she found out he had fallen on hard times, she kissed him. "How much do you still owe? Be with me. I'll give you 100 thousand a month. Will that be enough?" I stood quietly at the corner of the street and snapped a photo of their heartfelt reunion before sending it to my lawyer. I also forwarded it to Talia, along with a message, "Since you two are so in love, go ahead and marry him."

In our circle, everyone assumed that the rebellious bad boy, Dominic Ashford, was madly in love with me. A sworn bachelor, he made an exception just for me. But no one knew that on the night I miscarried, he was out street racing with his unforgettable first love, Vivian Lane. Only after losing his child did he truly transform from a boy into a man. Trading his leather jacket for a suit. Removing his ear studs and putting on glasses. Settling down to stay by my side and manage the business. I thought he had finally understood the meaning of "home." Until the day I was preparing his fifth anniversary gift and, on a whim, tried on those black-rimmed glasses he never took off. In the glow of the smart lenses, I watched my reflection in the mirror transform into Vivian Lane’s face. At that same moment, his computer screen lit up with a message from Vivian: “Dominic, she hasn’t been giving you trouble again, has she? The baby kicked me again today. When are you coming to see us?” In an instant, my blood ran cold. So for the past six months, the love I thought had finally come back to me was nothing more than Dominic looking at me through those AR glasses and seeing another woman. And his sudden devotion, his doting attention to my every need, was all just to keep me, the “stand-in,” content, so the woman he truly loved could carry his child in peace. This time, I didn’t beg with red-rimmed eyes the way I always had before. Instead, I calmly placed the glasses back where I found them and dug out the divorce papers I’d prepared long ago from the bottom of the closet.

By my third month on the job, I discovered that my coworkers had been calling me "the old crow" behind my back. The nickname came from none other than Jace's condescending secretary—because at 32, I was still clutching onto an eight-year relationship that hadn't ended in marriage. I confronted Jace. "Do you know your employees have been calling me the old crow?" He didn't even bother to look up. "That's just Sadie—she speaks her mind and means no harm. You're 32; why get so worked up over what a young girl says?" Then he gave me a faint, mocking smile. "Though honestly, it's a pretty fitting nickname." It felt like a cold hand had wrapped around my heart. So that was it—eight years of my youth, nothing more than a joke to him. I turned and walked away, handed in my resignation, and blocked every way he could reach me. But for the first time, the man who had always seemed so calm and untouchable finally panicked. "Elara," he pleaded, "please come back."

The old duke had gone to the palace three times and surrendered control over three Northmere estates before my father finally agreed to the engagement. Cassian Blackwell, Duke of Northmere, was young, powerful, wealthy, and apparently handsome enough to satisfy the entire court. To me, he was simply the man my brother had chosen because he was terrified I would lose my head over some man at the border and forget my family entirely. So he ordered me home for the engagement ceremony. Out of basic respect for the occasion, I went to choose the pink diamond necklace I would wear that night. The moment I stepped into the jewelry boutique, one necklace caught my eye. “That one is pretty,” a sharp, arrogant voice said behind me. “I’ll take it. Bring it here.” Before I could react, the sales associate pulled the box out of my hand. I straightened and kept my voice even. “Did no one ever teach you that customers are served in order?” The woman looked me up and down with open contempt. “The necklace costs three point two million,” she said, smiling as she tapped the crest pinned to her jacket. “Can you afford that? I grew up with the Duke of Northmere. In this city, I decide what I get.” Blackwell. What a coincidence. Cassian Blackwell was the fiancé I was supposed to meet that night. I took out my phone and dialed his number. “Cassian, your childhood friend is trying to take the necklace I chose for our engagement ceremony. How would you like me to handle her?”

Every witch awakened a gift when she came of age. Mine was simple. I could siphon my husband's fortune. On Christmas Eve, my husband spent 20,000,000 on a ring and proposed to his mistress as if he were buying a headline. The trending page exploded. Everyone waited to see how quickly I would be thrown out. The pathetic wife was finally swept out the door. When I stayed quiet, Jasper Prescott's tone turned playful, almost indulgent. "She's just a kid. She wanted the whole 'moment.' Your place isn't going anywhere." Then he added, as if assigning me a chore, "She's young. She can't handle things. Pay more attention to the engagement party's details." As though he feared I might cause trouble, he slid a black card across the table with casual ease. "Babe, you know what I value most," he said. "You being sensible." I pinched the cold card between my fingers, smiled, and nodded. No one knew the rule hidden inside our marriage. After we married, every time Jasper betrayed me, I took a piece of his fortune, stripping it from him one point at a time and adding it to my own. Once Christmas was over, I would take whatever he had left.