Short Romance Stories & Novels

After my husband's first love, Sydney Edwards, used me as a walking blood bank, I died in the run-down rental apartment my billionaire husband, Casper Hawthorne, had tossed me into like it was a blessing for me. Today was the third day since I had died. My six-year-old son, Adam, finally realized something was wrong. He had cut his finger while playing with his toys, yet I did not comfort him. He tore open a packet of crackers and raised one to my mouth to feed me, but I did not stop him. He lay in my arms, clutching my clothes and whispering for me. Still, I did not answer. Lost and panicking, he found my phone and called his father, Casper. "Dad, why is Mom still sleeping?" The man sent back a photo of himself having New Year's Eve dinner with Sydney and said in a cold voice, "She's just sleeping, she's not dead. Today is New Year's Eve. I'm busy. Tell that clueless mom of yours that when she's ready to admit she was wrong, she can come and look for me." After the call ended, Adam stood there frozen for a long time. He picked up the last biscuit in the rental apartment from the trash can, broke it in half, and held one piece to my mouth. "Mom, let's eat too."

For seven years, I've kept my identity hidden while secretly helping my girlfriend, Natasha Doyle, become one of the top designers in the world. A major design awards ceremony is being held tonight. My plan is to reveal my real identity and propose to her after she receives the award. But then, I see her walking up on stage, hand-in-hand with Connor Gibson, her partner in the design studio. "All of Natasha's accomplishments are the result of my hard work and effort," Connor proudly declares. Natasha smiles and nods in agreement. "Without him, I wouldn't be the person I am now." Thunderous applause rings from the crowd. The camera flashes keep going off. I stand in the corner, my heart in despair. As I walk out of the venue, I make a call. "Cut off all the funding and investments into Natasha's studio. Don't help her with the patent infringement lawsuit either. Let her deal with the legal consequences herself."

I worked in bottle service at a nightclub for four years just to support my boyfriend. His startup business failed. He told me he owed a fortune to loan sharks, saying that they would cut off his fingers if he failed to pay up. I gave him every dollar I had saved just to help him clear off his debt. I even gave him the emerald bracelet my mother had left me before she passed away. That night, I unintentionally overheard a conversation from one of the private rooms while I was working. "Preston, your girlfriend never would have given you that bracelet she had been hiding if Mia hadn't suggested we pretend to be debt collectors and assist you with this little show." Preston Hale laughed smugly before draining the drink in his glass. "It's just an old bracelet. Mia liked it, so I gave it to her." Then, he leaned back and added, "Now, help me think of another way to test Nora." So that was the truth. The love I dedicated for four years was just a test to him. The loan sharks, debt, fear, and desperation—he had orchestrated it all. I turned, walking out on him and out of the nightclub. Then, I reached out to my older brother, Adrian Whitmore, with whom I had been fighting for years. "Adrian," I told him, "I lost. I'll marry the man you arranged for me to meet."

As soon as Danielle Bradford has recovered from her postpartum period, she brings her baby to the county clerk's office to register for the baby's birth certificate. "My baby's full name is Taylor Gardner. Her father is Matthew Gardner." The employee types on the keyboard, but his brows draw tighter afterward. "The system has flagged another child with the same name under the same father." His words leave Danielle momentarily stunned. Thinking that her ears have deceived her, she blurts out, "That's impossible! Our baby has just turned one month old!" But Danielle feels her phone buzzing in her pocket before she can finish speaking. She taps on the screen, only to see a photo sent by Matthew's assistant, Meghan Landry. In the photo, Matthew has his left arm wrapped around Meghan's waist while carrying a five-year-old boy with his right arm. The three of them stand in front of a kindergarten's entrance with smiles so bright that they practically sting Danielle's eyes. On the boy's chest is a nametag that clearly says "Taylor Gardner".

Three days before the wedding, I was cleaning out some old boxes when I remembered the time capsule Natasha Rowe and I buried ten years ago. When I mentioned it, her face stiffened for a moment. She quickly tried to talk me out of going. "It's been so long," she said. "Someone probably dug it up already." I didn't think much of it and went back to our old high school alone. At the spot where we buried it, I started digging. Instead of one box, I pulled out five metal containers of different sizes. Two of them were the ones Natasha and I buried ten years ago, their surfaces rusted and worn. But there were three others. One of them was just as rusted as ours. The other two looked almost brand new. The old extra box had a name scratched into the lid. Vince Houle. On it were the words, [My secret crush was a war I fought alone. Natasha, I hope you're happy.] I remembered him then. He had been a quiet guy who sat behind us in class. The kind of student no one really noticed. The two newer boxes had names carved into them, too. Natasha and Vince. The date etched into both of them was today. On Natasha's box were the words, [The greatest regret of my life is that I couldn't marry you.] On Vince's box were the words, [The greatest regret of my life is that I can't openly congratulate you on getting married.]

Cornton playboy Justin Swanson openly declares that he only keeps girlfriends around for one month at a time and never falls in love. Women hoping to marry into wealth line up from one side of the city to the other. After all, when he is in a good mood, he rewards them with a villa. Even when he isn't pleased, there is still a million-dollar breakup payout. I am a joke to everyone in Cornton. They say I'm the most humiliated rich man's wife in all of history. They all assume I will put up with him forever. That is, until Justin brings home a college goer named Kayla Holt. She looks pretty ordinary, yet she becomes the first woman to make him break away from his vow of only having one woman as a girlfriend for a month. Justin gives me two choices. The first is to accept an open marriage and let Kayla stand on equal footing with me. The second is to divorce him, take half the assets, and walk away with no strings attached between us. His friends stand nearby, enjoying the show. They are convinced I will stay and keep playing the patient, long-suffering wife for the money. But I choose the second option without hesitation. In my previous life, I choose to tolerate Justin's infidelity, only for Kayla to become more and more demanding. She forbids Justin from touching me, and she forbids him from giving me any property. In my old age, I can only watch with envy as Kayla is surrounded by children and even grandchildren. When Justin dies, his will does not mention me a single time. All of his inheritance goes to Kayla. I spend my entire life clinging to the title of Mrs. Swanson, only to end up completely alone. After getting a second chance at life, I am no longer hung up on him. I understand clearly that I should take the money and leave. From now on, he and I have nothing to do with each other anymore.

To prepare for a baby, my wife, Daphne Sinclair, suggested we start working out together and keep each other accountable by tracking our daily step counts. While I was away on a two-week business trip, she ranked first on our Fitbit leaderboard every single night. Then one day, my neighbor suddenly sent me a video. The location tag showed it was filmed right in the parking lot beneath my apartment. "Bro, impressive. Your wife's even hired a personal trainer for her workouts now? That Maybach suspension really hits different." In the video, a pink sports bra I had never seen before hung from the driver’s side window. The car rocked rhythmically, accompanied by Daphne's restrained yet excited breathing. I dialed her number. "Where are you?" Her voice turned soft and coy. "On the treadmill, sprinting. Honey, I'm working so hard for our baby." "Really?" I chuckled. "You've worked so hard the entire neighborhood knows about it." Holding the phone, I said slowly, word by word, "Open the door. I'm bringing you a towel."

I have been in a long-distance relationship with my boyfriend, Eugene Walsh, for three years. I finally have enough leave time to visit him after working overtime for an entire month. But when I arrive, I can't reach him. I wait alone in an unfamiliar city for ten full hours before he finally replies. When the call connects, my best friend, Haley Woodward, greets me with a cheerful laugh. "Surprise! I explored Oakhaven for you in advance. It's so much fun! Eugene is an amazing tour guide!" She chatters nonstop about all the fun they've had, as if she never notices the 30 missed calls displayed on Eugene's phone. I listen quietly. Only when she says she's cold does Eugene finally take the phone from her and say to me, "I'll take her back to the hotel first. Wait for me a little while more." The moment he is done speaking, I ask, "Do you know how long I've been waiting?" Eugene pauses for a second before saying icily, "She's your best friend. Do you really have to compete with her over this?" The unmistakable accusation drains away any desire I have to keep talking. I hung up. Just then, the cab that will take me back to Centuria arrives. The driver takes one look at me and can't help but comment, "Miss, it's already past midnight. This area isn't very safe. How can your family leave you here all alone?" I look down at my shoes that are soaked through by snow and slush. In a soft voice, I say, "Yeah." Then, I smile and add, "They won't. Not anymore."

After they pulled me out of the surf, my fiancé, Milo Schneider, looked wrecked—eyes red, breathing all over the place. On impulse, I decided to mess with him. "I think I lost my memory. Where am I?" I kept my face blank. He froze for a second, then shoved his brother, Sean Schneider, toward me. "Sean, take your fiancée to the hospital—now." Yeah. That smile on my face? Gone. Sean pulled me into his arms. "Abigail, I'm your fiancé. Did you forget?"

The day my girlfriend’s condition worsened and she needed urgent surgery, I publicly called her a burden in front of everyone. Despite her pleas, I abandoned her cruelly. Seven years later, she became a formidable international tycoon and returned home with great fanfare. To exact her revenge on me, the heartless man, she poisoned my mother into silence and sent my father to prison. Eager to see me beg for mercy, she mobilized every connection to track me down. At this point, her parents could no longer bear to watch. With tears streaming down their faces, they revealed the entire truth. “He died seven years ago to donate his organs to you!”

I was with Grayson Redding when his phone lit up with a message that came out of nowhere. [I'm so much prettier now than I used to be. Want to see me?] "Another marketing text," he said. Before I could get a good look at it, he'd already tossed the phone aside and pulled me back into his arms. A month later, I saw another message from the same number. [Same place as last time?]

Jasper Eaton decides to ditch me at the altar just so he can meet up with Wendy Klein, his ex-girlfriend who abandoned him when he almost got crippled five years ago. All the guests are stunned, to say the least. I can only tug at Jasper's hem of his shirt while trying very hard to keep my expression intact. "Can you please stay with me now?" Mixed feelings cross his eyes, but he soon wrenches my hand off him, finger by finger. At the same time, he shakes his head. "I'm sorry, but I must go now. I need to ask Wendy why she was so heartless to me back then." Amid the crowd's shocked gasps and murmurs, Jasper leaves without even looking back. My dad, who has a bad heart, trembles violently out of fury. I can only stare in a shocked daze as he collapses to the floor shortly after. "Dad!" I break down on the spot. Still, I manage to send him to the hospital. There, I slump outside the emergency room. At that moment, my phone buzzes for a short while. Two new text messages have shown up on my screen. The first message comes from Wendy. "I told you that as long as I'm back, Jasper will never choose you. You lost again, Celeste." The second message comes from Jasper. "Give me 30 days. We'll break up for the time being. Once the period is over, I'll definitely love you and you only." My gaze is already hollow at that point. The smile curving on my lips is one of mockery and bitterness. This time, I will never lose ever again.

Morgan Olsen was the most popular girl at Oxnard University—the kind that countless guys secretly admired. That was until one day, when her private photos suddenly exploded across the campus forum. Overnight, her reputation was destroyed. Her guaranteed recommendation for graduate school was revoked, and even when she walked across campus, strangers openly asked her, “So how much for one night?” The photos spread like wildfire, and only one person had them—her boyfriend, Dean Lyon. Completely shattered, Morgan ran to find him, desperate to demand an explanation. However, just as she was about to push the door open, she heard one of Dean’s friends laughing. “Dean, that move was ruthless. The moment those private photos dropped, Morgan’s reputation was gone, and her grad offer was gone too. Let’s see if she dares to compete with Hazel for anything ever again.”

The first time I found a necklace in my fiancé’s car, his mother called me to explain. “Wylie, you’ve got the wrong idea. Rowan didn’t do anything. I accidentally left my necklace there.” The second time, I found two movie ticket stubs. My best friend, Sandy, tagged me in our shared group chat. [Wylie, don’t overthink it. I asked Rowan to help me buy those tickets.] Then came the third time, then the fourth time. Every time, someone always stepped forward to explain things on his behalf. That was, until the ninth time. I pulled a lipstick tube from the crack between the car seats and held it up in front of him. “Whose lipstick is this?” Rowan’s hand trembled almost imperceptibly on the steering wheel before he calmly dialed a number. “There’s a lipstick in my car. Which one of you left it behind?” My younger brother and Sandy answered the call. “Rowan? So that’s where I left it! No wonder Sandy’s been looking everywhere for it. But seriously, Wylie, why are you getting suspicious again? Didn’t everyone tell you at the last gathering? If you keep making a fuss like this, maybe the two of you shouldn’t get married at all.” Sandy chimed in, “Exactly! Wylie, Rowan treats you so well. Don’t you know that? You’ve really been taking things too far lately.” After hanging up, Rowan looked at me with an innocent expression. ‘Well? Can you stop doubting me now? “This is already the ninth time, Wylie. If you pull something like this again, then maybe we should reconsider the wedding—” I smiled and cut him off. “In that case, let’s not get married. We’ll just call it off.” What Rowan did not know was that the lipstick did not belong to his mistress, or my best friend. I had bought it myself and deliberately left it in his car. It was to expose the lies everyone had been telling to cover up his affair.

My mother and sister never liked me. The only son they ever truly cared about was my older brother, Lucian Vieri. Before she married me, Serafina Valcieri, the only daughter of one of the most feared syndicates in the country, was always the one who stepped in when I was cornered, mocked, or blamed for things that were never mine to carry. She never said much. She just made people back off. Then she married me. Then, not long ago, Lucian shoved me off a ski slope. I said he meant to kill me. My mother called it an accident. My sister said he had only been trying to save me. Only Serafina believed me. When I woke up in the hospital, I heard voices outside the door. “Who told you to do it like that?” Serafina said, her voice low and cold. My mother answered in a panic. “Lucian’s leukemia can’t wait. If Cassian learns the baby isn’t his, everything falls apart.” Then Serafina said the words I still can’t forget. “I chose him, and I married him for my own reasons. But Lucian still needs this child. If anything had happened to Cassian, none of you would have walked away from it.” I stood there in silence, listening to every word. The child my wife was carrying was never mine. It had been conceived through IVF to save my brother. And the marriage I had trusted from the beginning had never belonged to me alone. I had spent my whole life coming second to Lucian. I just never thought Serafina would be the one to prove it. If no one truly wanted me, then I would leave.

My wife dies in an accident, leaving me and our son, who's just started kindergarten, behind. I barely make it through the funeral. However, when I get home, my in-laws come knocking with my wife's brother in tow. They want to take over my wife's fortune, including an old bungalow my parents left me for me in the city. I finally realize that my wife has changed me so much that her family has never seen me tearing people's throats out.

On the day Owen Mercer and I get married, I place our marriage certificate beside our candlelit dinner. Just as I'm about to take a picture and upload it to social media, Owen suddenly says, "This certificate is fake." I freeze. A woman's startled voice comes through his phone, "Hey! Why did you tell her so soon? You ruined all the fun!" Owen frowns in frustration. "She's been completely clueless this entire time. Is there really any reason to keep pretending? Fine. You win the bet, Ms. McCoy. Are you satisfied now?" But my post has already been shared on social media. Everyone is sending their congratulations to Owen and me, celebrating that we have finally tied the knot after seven years together. The woman on the other end leaves a sarcastic comment, just like how she used to bully me back in the day. "Wow, look at you two finally making it official! So when's the reception? Hehe!" After a moment's thought, I respond, "Next week."

Samantha Sonnet, my wife who's also a hospital dean, decides to replace my name with Nicholas Spark, the intern's name on the surgical atlas that I've spent the last three years drafting without my permission. That atlas is then published. I burn the only original draft of the atlas in front of the entire department. Samantha blames me for being brash. "He's just leaving his name there so that he can ensure a smoother project closeout." After dusting the ashes away, I reply, "My academic achievements will always be mine. Since someone else's name is printed on my achievements, that means they are no longer pure." Later at midnight, Samantha hands me a glass of warm milk in an attempt to apologize to me. When I regain consciousness once again, I've already gotten strapped to a surgical table beneath a huge spotlight. I see a scalpel glinting coldly right above me. "You're a man of purity, right?" Samantha murmurs into my ear. "Three people's blood will be coursing through your veins soon enough. You'll be impure soon enough!" At the moment, Samantha is livestreaming an illegal organ removal surgery. As I stare at the camera hovering above my head, I say coldly, "If you've recorded enough evidence, then it's time to turn off the camera! Tell Captain Hardy that I've gotten my hands on the evidence he wants!"

Megan Hahn's older brother, Frederick Hahn, has retired from his military career. Rumors have it that he has gotten injured in one of his missions, resulting in him losing his ability to reproduce. Megan can only sigh sadly. "I plan to stay childfree, whereas Frederick has gotten hurt. It seems that my family's legacy will end at my generation." A few days later, I finally get to meet the legendary hunk of a brother Frederick is. Shock overwhelms me immediately. Why does he look exactly like the baby daddy I've slept with a few years ago?

My boyfriend was crippled when he saved me, while his adoptive sister suffered from heart failure after protecting us from misfortune. She had to depend on the expensive imported medicines to sustain life. To pay for their treatment, I sold myself as a lifecasting model on the black market. Not only were my hands and feet coated in the heated silicon, but I also needed to endure strangers touching me without flinching. I needed to pay if the replica was damaged. I begged through my tears, only to receive a few slaps to my face in return. They scolded, "You signed up for this. Don't act innocent now." Humiliated, exhausted, and aching, I still took the money straight to the hospital to buy medicine for his sister. When I passed by the VIP lounge, I heard a familiar laughter. "Chris, this is the 998th test, isn't it? Are you really marrying her once she passes the 999th test?" With a slight frown, Christopher answered, "Yeah. Although testing her is a family tradition, and they're having you to supervise, don't overdo it. I won't have another bride." I froze. Every sacrifice. Every humiliation. Every bit of pain I had endured—it had all been a test. A game to see whether I was worthy of marrying him. Staring at my bruised reflection in the fire-resistant glass, I let out a sudden chuckle. Then, with trembling hands, I turned on the old phone I hadn't touched in two years. I felt tears roll down my cheeks when I told the other person on the line, "Declan, take me home. I regret everything."