Short Romance Stories & Novels

Every year, my husband, Daniel Trahan, elopes with his childhood sweetheart, Callie Reed, on our wedding anniversary. On that day, they do everything that a loving couple does. On our fifth year anniversary, Daniel ordered me to put on a maid's outfit and serve them on hand and foot for 24 hours. "You've always wanted me to spend more time with you, right? I'm giving you a chance right now. Tomorrow, I'll come home and have one meal with you. "By the way, Callie's lower back hurts. You'll have to support her whenever she needs you." I complete all of my tasks obediently. When we meet up the next day, I hand him a divorce agreement. Daniel scoffs at the sight. Then, he drops his signature casually. "Oh? Are you playing hard to get again? Every time, you'll end up begging me to return to you while crying like an abandoned pet. If you're that eager to let everyone see how big a doormat you are, I shall grant your wish. "When you come crawling back to me this time, I'll stream the whole thing live so that everyone can see how spineless you are." Daniel thinks I'm throwing another tantrum this time. What he doesn't know is that the day of his elopement with Callie is also the day I get to go on my private date. Now, that lover of mine demands a proper title from me.

After fifteen years of marriage, my wife, Tiffany Yarwood, who insisted on being child-free, wanted to become pregnant with her childhood friend’s baby. “Taylor’s grandmother is dying. Her only remaining wish was for him to have an offspring. I have to help him with this!” Unable to accept this, I went to my parents-in-law to reason with them. But they snubbed me with gentle yet cutting words. “Tiff’s womb belongs to her. She has the right to decide whose child to bear. “Don’t you love her enough to give your life to her? If you can’t even tolerate such a small matter, how can you protect her for a lifetime?” Tormented by grief, I had no choice but to compromise with teary eyes. “Fine! I agree to let you have a test-tube baby for him. But after giving birth to the baby, you can’t have any further involvement with them.” Tiffany, relying on my love for her, confidently refused. “Not a test-tube baby! Taylor’s grandma is traditional. She’ll only accept babies born naturally. “Besides, I will be taking care of the child after giving birth. I can’t let the baby grow up without a mother!” I closed my eyes and exhaled. “If that’s the case, let’s divorce. You can live with him as a family of three.”

Half a year into my death, my wife, Serena Beckett, wants me to donate my kidney to William Clark, her heavily ill first love. Serena smashes my tombstone like a madwoman in the graveyard. Then, she kicks the tokens aside. "He's dead? What sort of sick joke is this? Jason Shaw is a coward! He definitely doesn't have the guts to die! "I think he just doesn't want to save William's life! To think that he actually roped you guys into putting up this act just to pretend that he's actually dead!" Serena is furious, to say the least. The graveyard's staff members are so frightened that they dare not speak up at all. A newly-recruited staff member finally muster the courage to say something. "Ma'am, Mr. Shaw really is dead. Apparently, he died in the donation surgery that had taken place half a year ago… He—" "Shut up!" Serena slaps him while cutting him off. "You really think I'll believe that bullshit? Tell him that if he doesn't show his face in three days, his little sister can forget about getting off the surgical table alive! I mean what I said!" With a dark expression, Serena turns on her heel and leaves angrily afterward. But the staff member looks toward another tombstone not far away. Then, he lets out a heavy sigh. "It's a shame that his sister has already died due to her illness taking a turn for the worse."

Six years ago, a corporate acquisition deal I handled went up in flames, and 50 billion dollars vanished into thin air. Bankrupt investors spray red paint all over my front door for a year straight. Dad died from a stroke, and Mom lost her mind and disappeared. I ended up doing six years in prison for embezzlement. After I got out, I changed my name and started delivering food in downtown, running myself ragged for a few bucks per delivery. But then my ex-wife, Shirley Pearce, showed up, and the entire delivery station ground to a halt. She had become a financial powerhouse, a regular on the covers of business magazines. Reporters blocked my delivery scooter, shoving microphones in my face. "Mr. Marcus Quinn, Ms. Pearce has been single for six years, paid off all your debts, and she's been waiting for you to come home!" I stared at that perfectly made-up woman with her adoring eyes and felt nothing but disgust. That so-called "devoted" ex-wife of mine? Six years ago, she had forged company seals to help her boy toy short the stock market. Then, when everything fell apart, she threw me under the bus to save herself.

Cleo Carrington used to be Northvale's brightest spark—wild, fearless, impossible to pin down. And then she married Damian Joubert. The most controlled, rigid heir in their world. Damian ran like a machine. Perfect standards. Zero slack. And he expected the same from his wife. Cleo loved noise—clubs, music, bodies moving. He had every venue in the city blacklist her. She loved freedom—the blazing Afriyan sun, the northern lights in Icelorn. She raced cars. She jumped out of planes. He took her passport. Shut it all down.

When Cora Shepard's husband's first love, Kimberly Hayes, came back, her first move was to make Cora sign a wager. The terms were simple. If George Lambert abandoned Cora nine times for her, Cora would give up her place as Mrs. Lambert. Cora agreed.

After I married into a rich family as my older sister's stand-in, my powerful husband didn't touch me for six months. Then I overheard his friend. "You chased her ten years just to marry her, and you still won't touch her?" He looked down, smiling bitter. "I have a problem... I'm scared I'd scare her off." That night I stormed into his room and slapped the divorce papers on the nightstand. "Two choices—sleep with me or sign." He ripped the papers apart and pinned me to the wall, something wild breaking loose in his eyes. "Third choice... I make sure you can't get out of bed tomorrow."

On our seventh year anniversary, my girlfriend, Rachel Winters, forces me to drink a glass of drugged champagne before dumping me onto the bed of an 80-year-old widow. "It's Bryon's first time attending a business meeting. He's still pure and oblivious, so he doesn't know how to satisfy an older widow's insatiable desire. "I have no choice but to ask you to seal this business deal on his behalf. Think of this as your way of helping me repay Bryon's family for raising me since young. "Don't worry, Corey. No one will know about this." After that, Rachel turns off the lights and leaves the room while ignoring my pleas for help. But the next day, the video of me and the widow going at it is spread across the Internet. My colleagues look down on me for resorting to such underhanded methods just to get promoted. They can't believe that I'm able to stomach the idea of sleeping with an 80-year-old widow. Thanks to the video, the company's reputation is greatly affected. Rachel holds a press conference immediately to address the issue. I thought she'd defend me, but I didn't expect her to change her tune. "I've already discussed this matter with the Dalton family. Corey Dalton shall take responsibility for what he's done to the widow. As for me, I will get engaged to Bryon Parson." I feel as though lightning has struck me on the spot. I've founded this company with Rachel and has stuck by her side through thick and thin, resulting in us rising as the new-time business moguls. But in the end, she decides to ditch me. "Corey, if you really want to stay by my side, you can remain as my side piece. In exchange, I'll help you shake that old woman off your tail." As I meet Rachel's smug gaze, I shake my head decisively. "I've already thought things through and decided that I'll be marrying the widow."

My wife, Chelsea Sloane, has always been an avid user of computers when it comes to work. But one day, she suddenly falls in love with the idea of using pen and paper. In fact, she loves one particular black pen to the point that she refuses to let anyone touch it. Unable to endure her twisted obsession over that pen, I decide to bring up divorce before her on our wedding anniversary. Enraged, Chelsea points at me and yells, "Are you seriously getting a divorce over a pen?" I reply coolly, "Yup. It's precisely that."

On the day before the competition, someone knocked me out when I was on the street before locking me up in a cage. For three days and three nights, I was chased around by a ferocious dog that kept biting and attacking me. Because of that, my wounds began leaking pus due to infection. Later on, five rich ladies had me locked up in a room. After chaining me up like a dog, they began tormenting me out of fun. When I finally got rescued, I had suffered from countless fractures. Even my internal organs went out of place from the beatings. My older sister, Claire Bowman, whom I'd been relying on since young, had me sent to the hospital immediately. There, I received a rabies vaccine. Meanwhile, my fiancee, Heather Vega, killed the mutt right in front of me in order to help me exact vengeance. She also stripped those ladies down and put them through a humiliating parade in public. After that, she kicked them off to the slums, where they became playthings for the beggars. But as I was lying on the hospital bed, I accidentally overheard Claire and Heather's conversation. "Do you think Christopher will resent us if he ever finds out that we're the ones who've set the dog and the ladies on him just so we can make Samuel the winner of the competition in order to repay him for his benevolence?" Heather's tone was unusually icy. "Christopher's just a replacement for Samuel. This is his fault for not knowing his place and insisting on fighting over the top spot with Samuel! I'm just teaching him a lesson! "Soon, I'll marry him in order to make it up to him. Then, I'll take care of him for the rest of his life. This is already enough." I did my best to hold my tears back while feeling my heart throb in pain. It turned out that the most important women in my life were also the ones who had ruined my lifelong dream. Since they didn't care about me at all, I chose to abandon them as well.

To protect the assistant who had been evading taxes, she deliberately gave false testimony in her role as my superior's wife, putting all the blame on me. I protested endlessly, but the law held me accountable. I was imprisoned for two months. Upon release, my colleagues turned against me, ostracizing me and destroying my promotion chances. Seeing that I neither cried nor caused a scene, my wife assumed that I had finally submitted. She even threatened to make amends with a lavish wedding for me. However, during the wedding vows, the assistant, suddenly overtaken by jealousy, ran to the company rooftop and threatened my wife with suicide to force her to cancel the wedding. My wife, who had always been obedient to him, panicked. She abandoned everyone at the ceremony and spent the entire night comforting her assistant. Afterwards, she calmly explained: "Wilson is young and impulsive. I was just afraid he might get hurt. Besides, you were released from prison so early thanks to him. He helped a lot. By right, he's still your lifesaver. I couldn't just abandon him." I looked at the couple rings she had just put on her finger, let out a faint hum, and said nothing. She believed I accepted her excuse and was pleased, even making an unprecedented promise: once she had calmed the assistant, she would take me on a honeymoon. However, she seemed to have forgotten one thing. She had already signed the divorce papers, and I had filed a lawsuit in court to have the case heard. From that moment on, we were no longer husband and wife. We were only plaintiff and defendant.

The night my sister died during a failed emergency procedure, a gang of thugs stopped the car that was taking me to the funeral home. They desecrated her body right in front of me, then beat me until every bone in my body felt shattered and the tendons in my hands were severed. The next day, the news that my hands were ruined and I would never be able to operate again made the headlines. Because of that, my fiancée of eight years, Sandra Walker, broke off our engagement. The very next day, she left for an overseas medical conference with the man she had always loved. When I was on the verge of collapse, Sandra's aunt, Magnolia Walker, set off fireworks for me and announced our wedding to the entire city. "Kayden Foster, I've loved you for so long. Now, I can finally stand by your side. In this life, you're the only man I want to marry!" In that endless despair, I clung to her as my only lifeline. On our wedding day, after I came back from paying my respects to my sister, I accidentally overheard Magnolia talking to her assistant, Robin Myers. "Dr. Walker, for your niece Sandy to be able to marry Quinton Kerr, I arranged for an intern to operate on Kayden's sister, hired people to cripple him, and had his sister's body violated. The police are still investigating, and I'm starting to get a little nervous. Isn't this too cruel?" After a brief silence, Magnolia spoke in a tired voice. "What choice did I have? Kayden was too proud. If I hadn't removed the sister he depended on and ruined both his hands, how could I make him fall apart? How else could I have made him break things off with Sandy without anyone suspecting a thing? "Quin and I were never meant to be in this life. As long as he's happy, that's enough..."

Wendy Lloyd's first love, Hudson Clark, treats me like a walking blood bank. Because of that, I end up dying in the rented apartment Wendy has given to me out of contemptuous pity. Today is the third day of my death. My six-year-old son, Terry Heath, finally realizes that something is wrong with me. When he accidentally cuts his finger from playing with his toys, I don't coax him at all. When he tears open a pack of cookies and feeds one to me, I don't stop him at all. When he lies in my arms and grips me by the hem of my shirt while calling out to me softly, I don't respond to him at all. Feeling rather uneasy, Terry finds my phone and calls Wendy. "Mommy, why is Daddy still asleep?" Wendy responds by sending a photo of her and Hudson enjoying a holiday feast together. She then says coldly, "He's just asleep, not dead. Today is Christmas Eve, so I'm very busy right now. "Tell that arrogant father of yours that he's only free to visit me whenever he's ready to acknowledge his mistakes." After that, the call ends. Terry is left feeling stunned for a long time. Finally, he digs out the last cookie from the trash can and snaps it in half. Then, he feeds it to me again. "Daddy, let's eat."

Everyone said Colton Jones loved Whitney Thompson more than life itself. He had spent ten years pursuing her and cherishing her. If she furrowed her brow, he would worry over it for hours. Yet this same Colton betrayed her three times. The first time, he was drugged by a business rival at a corporate gala and spent the night with a female college student. The day Whitney asked for a divorce, he arranged for the young woman to be sent overseas overnight. Then he stood outside Whitney's apartment building in the pouring rain for three days and three nights. "I was wrong, Whitney," he said. "Please, forgive me just this once." Whitney looked at his pale face, and her heart softened.

Remi Sloan had been married to the top scion of the elite circle for five years. To outsiders, their marriage looked like a fairy tale. Everyone said he adored her—that he would even give his life for her if she asked. However, because she could not get pregnant, a few hints from her in-laws became outright demands. The man who had held her hands and promised to protect her for the rest of her life on their wedding day cried in front of her. “Be good… I can’t hold on anymore.” So this was how short a man’s promise could be, because less than two months later, she saw him supporting a pregnant woman in the hospital's obstetrics department, his movements gentle.

When my wife, Sandra Lane, finally returns from her business trip, I pin her against the wall, my lust overwhelming my rationality. Halfway through our session, Sandra's phone starts ringing all of a sudden. She quickly pushes me off her body before grabbing her phone. "Sandie, I'm feeling a little uncomfortable. Can you check out what's wrong with me?" A racy video is soon sent to Sandra's private chat. Angered, I question Sandra, "Has William gone nuts? Why did he send you these videos? Is he going to keep badgering you just because he can't find himself a wife?" Sandra responds by slapping me instantly. "What the hell are you talking about, Steven? What's with that gutter mind of yours? I've just rescued William from another city! His parents are already dead, so I'm the only one left in his life! Naturally, I'm obligated to take good care of him! "You disgust me to no end, Steven! Hurry up and apologize to me right now, or else we're getting a divorce!" Sandra and I have been married for six years. During these years, she has used divorce as a threat against me multiple times. But when I'm with Sandra, I've already confessed 1001 times to her. Upon noticing my silence, Sandra just smiles smugly, thinking that there's no way I will ever leave her. But this time, she's wrong.

My parents have invited all of their relatives and friends to our villa for a nice gathering to celebrate their golden anniversary. Isabel Atkinson, my wife who works as a model, suddenly calls me on the phone and claims that she needs to attend an urgent meeting hosted by her client. Before it's my turn to give a speech on the stage, my assistant suddenly hands my phone over to me. "Mr. Marsh, you might want to take a look at this…" The screen shows a social media post made by Miles Horton, an intern designer at our company. "At this moment, she belongs to me and me only." In the photo, Isabel can be seen sitting in a dimly-lit room. A few plain-looking dishes decorate the table. Her hair is slightly messy, but she continues to smile at the elder next to her. A cold, mocking smile appears on my face. It turns out that her so-called emergency meeting is a family gathering with Miles. I leave a comment in the comments section. "The food looks pretty tasty. I'd like to visit you next time." Chaos erupts on the social media feed instantly. Isabel calls me immediately. "Why are you being such a phony? You'd better delete the comment right now!" I just chuckle coldly as I end the call. Then, I send her a copy of the divorce papers I've drafted. Since Miles' matters are clearly more important to her, then she can forget about coming home forever.

Mom and I board a flight to Fangoria to visit Alicia Carter, my wife. She's a special forces soldier who's here on a peacekeeping mission in this foreign country. But the moment we walk out of the airport, we're ambushed by a group of kidnappers. One of them holds a gun to Mom's head and says, "If you don't give us the ransom in three days, we'll blow her head off!" In a panic, I make a video call to Alicia, my hands shaking as I beg her to help me. "Calm down, honey. I'll put in a request to lead a rescue mission. We'll save her within 24 hours!" But the next day, I keep failing to get in touch with Alicia. After I blow up her phone with multiple calls, one finally connects. Amid her rushed panting, she tells me, "Sorry, honey. I just got assigned to an urgent escort mission. You guys just hang in there. I've arranged for the local authorities to—" Her voice is abruptly cut off by a familiar male voice. "Alicia! Thank goodness you came over just to pick me up. I didn't have to spend 100 dollars on a cab after all! That cab driver didn't even have a license, and I can't believe he tried to ask for more money…" The three-day deadline passes, and the kidnappers keep their word, letting me hear the gunshot myself. As I clutch Mom's cold, dead body, Alicia calls me out of nowhere. "Hey, honey. I just completed the escort mission. How are things on your end? Have the kidnappers released her?" I look down at Mom. Her eyes will never open again. I gently wipe the blood off her face as I reply to Alicia in an eerily calm voice, "Yeah. They have."

I had a massive fight with my husband, Gary Mitchell, while I was six months pregnant. He kicked me out of the house. With nowhere to go and no money, I ducked into a convenience store just to get some warmth. I was staring at the steam rising from the hot food display when the cashier walked over. "Excuse me, Miss. We have one last bottle of amnesia water left. Would you be interested in it?" I froze, then let out a bitter laugh. "I don't have any money." She said, "You don't need to use money. You can exchange it for something from your body." Instinctively, I raised my hand and touched my swollen belly. "How about this?"

During the holiday break, my wife, Jayda Glover—the hospital's star surgeon and Chief of Cardiac Surgery—suddenly "had to work overtime." Our third-anniversary hot springs trip? Canceled. That night, I was scrolling social media when a post from her intern, Dillon Tripp, popped up. My ice-queen wife always said her "golden hands" were only for patients. Apparently, they cook now too. She was in a cartoon apron, calmly chopping vegetables. The caption read: [Thank you, Dr. Glover, for personally cooking to comfort me after I was bullied by a patient's family!] I tapped like and left a comment. [White coat to apron. Very domestic.] Ten minutes later, the whole hospital knew Cardiac Surgery's untouchable beauty had broken her rule—just to cook for a younger guy. Jayda called. Dishes clattered in the background. "You really had to embarrass me in public? He got hot water thrown on him by a patient's family today. I was just doing my duty as his mentor! "A pampered professor's kid like you wouldn't know the first thing about how hard broke med students have it. "Apologize to Dillon right now. Otherwise, no matter how much you beg later, I'm not going on that trip with you!" Beg her? I looked at the divorce papers that had just arrived on the coffee table and let out a quiet laugh. I wasn't begging anymore. From this moment on, we were strangers.