Short Romance Stories & Novels

To scrape together enough money for tickets home on New Year’s Eve, I took on a part-time job and accidentally entered a livestream where money was being thrown around. The boy on screen had fair skin and wore a high-end knit sweater, with a luxuriously decorated villa behind him. “It’s too boring being kept here. My sugar mommy gives me more money than I can spend. Let’s do some giveaways.” Excited, I grabbed several large cash drops in a row. The money for my girlfriend’s and my tickets was almost enough. Then the boy suddenly leaned close to the camera. “She keeps saying the tear mole under my eye looks like her boyfriend’s. What bad luck, sharing the same feature as some poor loser.” My fingers trembled. I had a tear mole in the exact same spot. A comment floated by: [How could a sugar mommy’s boyfriend be poor?] The boy sneered, running a hand through his hair. “She’s just playing around. Told him she’s a million in debt, and he’s dumb enough to work and help her pay it off.” My heart went cold. My girlfriend was also supposedly a million in debt. “The funniest part is, she just spent three days with me. When she left, I asked if she still had the energy to go be with him. “She said as long as she tells him she’s going to wash dishes at a barbecue place, that idiot will feel bad and go deliver food to make some extra money overnight.” Another big cash drop came in. I had enough now. My phone rang. Wren’s voice sounded tired as she said, “Aran, the ticket money isn’t enough… I made a little over two hundred dollars washing dishes. I’ll head home now.”

At the engagement banquet, Monique Walton is in the middle of telling all the guests and the viewers of the livestream that's taking place about our tale of romance. What she doesn't know is that I have already swapped out the romantic video of our sweet memories for the racy clip of her and Terry Caldwell going at it like rabbits. When the clip is presented on the monitor, everyone falls silent immediately. That's when the live comments on the livestream instantly overwhelm the comment section. Monique turns around in a fluster, the well-maintained smile on her face starting to crack bit by bit. She stumbles toward the control panel, accidentally knocking over the champagne tower in her haste. Amid the chaos, I draw to my feet and walk onto the stage. Then, I pick up the microphone Monique has just dropped. "Everyone, this engagement banquet is officially canceled. From now on, Monique Walton and I are no longer affiliated with each other."

One year after I was confirmed to be a fake heir, all my friends said I was like a completely different person. I was no longer spoiled or entitled. I no longer desperately sought even a passing glance from my parents. And I no longer exhausted myself trying every possible way to win Jane Fraser's love. The harsh reality of financial hardship left me running ragged every day. It also made me understand, with painful clarity, that affection and romance were the most useless things in this world. As they wished, I stopped fighting. I stopped competing for anything at all. Later, when Jane brought the real heir back home, I simply went quietly to the guest room and waited in silence, ready to give up everything that once belonged to me. But those who had long wanted me to be obedient and well-behaved were suddenly driven mad. They asked me, over and over, why I had stopped fighting back.

There isn't any cure for migraines. But my billionaire wife, Ashley Weston, has not had a single migraine for years thanks to my daily massage with both hands. On the day I get into a car accident, I beg a passerby to call her to save me. She replies impatiently, "So you're resorting to such shameless tricks just because I won't answer your calls?" Through the phone comes the mocking laughter of her childhood friend, Jordan Hanson. My right hand is permanently fractured, and my left hand suffers from muscle weakness after the accident. A lawyer helps me draft a divorce agreement. With much difficulty, I sign it and send it to Ashley. On the day her head throbs with unbearable pain, she looks at my drooping hands and remains silent for a long time.

Olivia Penn was the only daughter of the Penn family. She was born into privilege and status. People often called her the holy maiden of high society. She was untouchable and devout. The system gave me a mission to win her heart, but I ended up losing mine to her. After we got married, the mission was successfully completed. I should have left this world immediately, but I chose to stay for her. The cost was constant, bone-deep pain every single day. One day, I saw her being intimate with my younger brother in a church. The rosary she never took off was teasingly caught between his lips, then removed and tossed aside. Even our son wanted my brother to be his father. So, I gave them what they wanted. However, if this was what they wanted, why did they regret it after I died?

My grandmother didn't have much time left. Before she passed away, she entrusted me to my boyfriend, Hunter Jones. As we held hands with our fingers interlaced, he promised to register our marriage in front of my grandmother's sickbed. However, the day after we registered our marriage, Sarah Moore, Hunter's female colleague, posted a picture of a marriage certificate with her and Hunter's names on it. There was a caption, stating, 'I know you have no choice but to agree to marry her. But as long as I'm the person you love most, I'm satisfied with only one month.' I went to find Hunter, intending to question him about what was going on. Instead, I overheard him chatting with his friend. "I'm indebted to Audrey's grandmother. I promised her that I would take care of Audrey for the rest of my life, so I have to take responsibility for her. As for Sarah, I can die without regrets if I can be her husband for a month in this life." His friend laughed and said, "Poor Audrey White. Aren't you afraid she'll get angry and run away when she finds out that the marriage certificate you got her was fake?" Hunter fell silent for a moment. "She will never find out. I'll just tell her that there was an error in the registration system and that we need to re-register. Audrey trusts me so much. She won't suspect anything," he added. However, his plans shattered when he tried to contact me to re-register our marriage. That was because he received my wedding gift for him, along with a wish that he and Sarah would have a long and happy life instead.

At the recording studio of a divorce reality show, when Logan Barnes, the superstar, catches a fallen headset for me, he subconsciously takes my hand and kisses it. The thing is, the livestreaming camera is still rolling. The kiss leaves the entire Internet in chaos. After all, I'm not Logan's ex-wife in this reality show. Everyone can't wait to see me break down and get jealous to the point that I'll keep pestering my actual ex-husband, Eddie Hancock. But right after the reality show is over, Logan and I become the most envied Internet couple.

On our son's birthday, a few aggressive and fierce dogs have suddenly barged into our home for no reason. But my wife, Jacinda Redmont, is quick to order for all doors and windows to be closed. "Our son's still in there! Hurry up and open the door!" I quickly stop Jacinda, only to get slapped in return. That's when I notice hatred and disgust written all over her face. "You weren't alarmed in the slightest when Benny suffered from a fright yesterday, and yet you claim that you'll treat both children fairly! You're filled with nothing but lies, Vincent Fuller! "Since you're that selfish, I'll personally teach you a lesson in fairness and just!" It turns out that Jacinda is exacting vengeance on her bastard son's behalf. Yesterday, her first love, Jaden Sutton, and his son, Benson Sutton, returned to the country without a warning. The dog that I've reared for five years did nothing but bark at them a few times, only for Jacinda to order her men to beat it. "By the way, Benny shall be the one replacing Timmy in the birthday banquet. We should use this opportunity to announce his status publicly." As I gaze at the heavily bandaged child in the ward as well as the hint of provocation in Jaden's eyes, I can't help but laugh. What makes them think that my son, Timothy Fuller, is the one who got injured by the dogs?

It all started when my fiancée's adoptive brother, Afton Jackson, claimed I had used a dirty scalpel in his private parts enlargement surgery, and that had given him Syphilis. My fiancée, Mia Jackson, flew into a rage. She stomped on the hand I had used to perform surgery. Then, she stripped me naked, forced me into humiliating poses, and put me up for auction on the black market for free. [Second-hand. Free.] Her best friend tried to talk her out of it. "You and Ryan Hathaway are about to get married. Are you really going to destroy him like this?" Mia's voice was calm. "He operated on Afton so recklessly and made Afton break down after catching that disease. Afton almost jumped off a building, yet he still refuses to admit what he did. He doesn't deserve to be a doctor. I'm only trying to scare him. It's not like I'm really going to give him away and let him catch some filthy disease too." I stood in the doorway, my face pale. When our eyes met, she spoke as if every word were justified. "You made a mistake, so you deserve to suffer for just a little while. As long as you cure Afton and then apologize to him, you'll still be the fiancé I love most." I silently held back my tears and reposted the auction link to my feed. It was claimed in seconds with a single comment. [I'll take him.] But Mia's face darkened as she threw the wine glass to the floor.

My father was hospitalized with a fractured bone. He needed someone to look after him. My wife, Alma, who was also a doctor, said she had to attend the Lancet conference abroad. She claimed it was an event she could not miss. While I was caring for my father, my younger brother, Jack, forwarded a short video to me. “Clyde, you need to look at this video of Alma.” In the video, Alma, who always took great care of her hands, was assembling parts on an assembly line at an electronics factory. I looked up info on who uploaded the photo. It was Tobias Zidel, a male nurse from her department. He captioned the video: [From the operating table to my assembly line. A true woman of all trades!] I resisted the urge to confront her. Instead, I forwarded the video to the department’s group chat. [I wonder how much Dr. Ashford earns per day working at Mr. Zidel’s family factory?] The group chat instantly exploded with messages. The video spread across the entire hospital. Alma bombarded me with frantic phone calls. She demanded that I retract the message. “Come with a written apology on Monday. You will apologize to Mr. Zidel publicly during the meeting!” I hung up decisively. Then, I scheduled an appointment to file for divorce. I did not want a wife like this.

My wife's first love fell seriously ill. To save him, she gave away the kidney donor that was meant for me. Afraid I would cause a scene at the hospital, she locked me inside our home. Day after day, she stayed by his bedside, cooking for him, caring for him, never leaving his side. All she left for me was a box of stale biscuits… and expired milk. A month later, she finally opened the door. "Have you thought it through?" I looked at her, pale and desperate. "If I don't get that transplant, I'll die." "Why are you talking about dying?" she snapped. "You've endured this for so long already. A little more pain won't kill you. Are you trying to scare me?" "But Vincent is different. He's never been able to handle pain. Can't you be more understanding?" "Understand…" I nodded stiffly. Then, I walked out, without looking back. Only for her to be stabbed multiple times… yet still refuse to let go of my hand!

Jackson Dalton, my roommate, was a deeply disturbed voyeur. His greatest hobby in life was spying on me. Back in school, he stole my underwear. After we started working, he set his sights on sleeping with the woman I loved, Caitlin Watson. Because we were close, he constantly crossed the line, making crude, sexual remarks about Caitlin, who was a flight attendant. "Those legs are insane. Wonder what it’d feel like to have them on my shoulders." Every time he ran his mouth, Caitlin would throw water in his face and curse him out. "Stay the hell away from me, you freak." For my sake, she never called the police on him, but every time he acted up, she made sure to humiliate him in public. The night I successfully proposed, I bought a new house. Jackson showed up with a full set of appliances as an apology gift. Wearing her diamond ring, Caitlin leaned into my arms, smiling like she was the happiest woman alive. All my friends said I was lucky to have such a beautiful and loyal fiancee, who even put my worst friend in his place. Until I got up in the middle of the night for a drink. I noticed the guest room door was slightly open. When I pushed it open, I saw Caitlin wearing a collar and being led on a leash while crawling on the ground.

I was born with a weak heart. When I was nineteen, I got a heart transplant that allowed me to survive. Soon after, I met my wife-to-be, Vivian Cosby. Three years after we got married, I found a note in her phone that was not deleted. The date was marked as the day we met. The text simply read, [I found him. His name is Quinn Waverly. The heart is with him.] When I looked through the notes further, I saw a man’s photo, captioned with a name. [Randall] There was another line of text in her notes. It read, [Randall, through your heart in his chest, I will show you the world.] I finally understood. The first time we met, she had not been taken aback because it was love at first sight, it was simply shock. The tears she shed when she proposed were not because of me. In the night, she would always lay her head on my chest. However, she was not listening for my heartbeat, but his. Tonight, she came home very late. As usual, she held me tightly and buried her face in my chest. “Your heartbeat always makes me calm.” I did not open my eyes, nor did I ask about Randall. This was the first time I realized that one could hear a heart beat so loudly that it echoed, even through so many layers of skin and muscle.

When my wife, Rebecca Walsh, misses my chemotherapy session for the 99th time, I come across a post on social media. "I won my lover's heart with a kidney. She will surely love me to death, right?" The attached photo shows a couple kissing on a street in Targon. The woman has a small heart-shaped scar on her neck. What a coincidence—it is exactly the same as Rebecca's. The woman who nearly dies for me falls in love with someone else so easily. The comments below are full of encouragement from strangers. "Man, you're so brave. Wishing you everlasting love." "If I were the woman, I would love you to death." I leave a comment too. "I hope you are together until you are in the depths of hell, you cheating pair. As for me, the husband, I will step aside to make way for you." One minute later, the post disappears. It doesn't matter. I post on my own account. I write, "After I spent three years battling cancer, my wife fell in love with the man who's supposed to be the kidney donor." The attached images are our marriage certificate and the same photo of them kissing from earlier.

I feel unwell, so I head to the hospital alone to get myself checked. There, I find my wife, Luna Ackerman, accompanying the poor student I support financially, Levi Baker, for a health checkup. Just last night, the very same woman held me intimately in bed and said we would be together forever in every lifetime. I smile dejectedly and summon the system in my mind. "I choose to go back to my original world." What Luna doesn't know is that I'm a transmigrator. I have accomplished my mission the moment I married her. But now, I don't want her anymore.

The day the campus queen got caught shoplifting at the convenience store, I was reborn. This time, instead of pulling her into the back room for a private talk, I called the cops without a second thought. The cops locked up my childhood sweetheart, the campus goddess Samantha Creighton, for fifteen days. During those fifteen days, I cut every tie between us. After that, I dodged her completely. Whenever she organized a class gathering, I fell deathly ill. Whenever she traveled to the southern coast, I flew to the far northwest. When she went to a reunion, I got sick. When she went home, I went abroad. When she returned to school, I dropped out. I avoided every situation that might bring me near her. In my past life, I loved her for twenty years. But in all that time, she never once treated me with any real kindness. I finally found out why during a fire at our house. I held her and our daughter outside the window, shielding them until rescue came. They got out without a scratch. But my entire body was burned beyond recognition. Then my own daughter—the one I raised with everything I had—pulled her mother's one true love close and said, "He deserves this. Back then, he tore you and Mom apart. He should die for it." My wife stood beside them and sobbed uncontrollably. "I almost thought I'd never see you again." I died full of hatred. Now that I'd been given a second chance… since she loved her first love that much, I'd make sure they could stay together.

One week before our wedding, my fiancee told me she wanted to have a baby with her childhood best friend. When I said no, she looked at me as if I were the unreasonable one. "It's just IVF," my fiancee said. "Nothing is going to happen between Logan and me. His parents have been pressuring him to get married so badly that he almost died in a car accident. Now they have finally agreed to back off as long as he has a child. We should help him." I stared at her, my face drained of color. "We're getting married in a week, and you want to have another man's baby? Do you honestly think that's fair to me?" Her expression softened, and she reached for my hand as if she were soothing a child. "Daniel," she said gently, "after we're married, we'll have children of our own too." In that moment, whatever love I had left for her died completely. She was right about one thing: I would have children of my own someday, but not with her. I turned around, opened my phone, and posted a status for everyone to see, 'I'm getting married in one week, but I'm missing a bride. Anyone interested?'

In the third year since my husband, Axel Kramer, starts working as a rideshare driver, we finally manage to buy a home of our own. On the day we move in, he suddenly says to me, "Some friends want to come over for dinner tonight. I already said yes." I'm someone who values boundaries and doesn't like outsiders coming into my home. Even when we host relatives, we take them out to restaurants. "Can't we just go to a restaurant?" I ask. He looks helpless as he replies, "I already suggested that, but Lindsay said it would be more fun if we hang out at home. She said we should liven it up in our new home. And since everyone knows I'm a good cook, she wants to try my cooking too." One corner of my eye twitches with displeasure. Lindsay Brun is the female driver he's mentioned the most over these three years. She's also the only woman in their rideshare drivers' group chat.

On the eve of the wedding, Rosalie Bloom terminates her marriage with me before announcing that Evan Lockwood is the man she's in love with. So, I marry Noelle Lockwood, who has been pursuing me relentlessly this whole time. She holds a luxurious wedding of the century for me, which shakes the city to its roots. In the fourth year after our marriage, when I find out that Noelle has suffered from an unfortunate miscarriage, I'm so worried about her that I get into a car crash. That's when I accidentally overhear her conversation with her assistant. "Hurry up and withdraw Dominic's bone marrow while he's still unconscious so that we can save Ev's life." It turns out that Noelle is actually in love with Evan, her own stepbrother, instead of me. All the happiness and love I've felt in this marriage is fake…

I'm the best plastic surgeon in the industry. Hendrick Twain is a regular customer of mine who has gotten his manhood enlarged nine times via surgery. But after I performed the latest surgery on him, he decides to linger around in my clinic instead of leaving. He keeps showing off his brand-new luxury watch while gloating to me, "Isn't this watch pretty, Dr. Yard? Winona was the one who gifted it to me." Upon noticing my lack of reaction, Hendrick approaches with a smile on his face. Then, he lowers his voice. "What's the use of preserving your chastity, anyway? Winona prefers to be with a plastic hunk like me, who's gone through nine manhood enlargement procedures, than be with you, Mr. Au Naturale." As I stare at Hendrick's face, which has gone under the knife countless times for minor adjustments, I remember the excuses Winona Grahm made to my face every night to avoid going home. Just the memory makes my gut churn in disgust. All of my grievances and disgust turn into ice at that moment. Finally, I take the wedding ring off my ring finger and place it on the desk gently. Then, I grab my phone and dial the number, which I haven't called in the past three years. "Dad." I sound eerily calm on the phone. "Since Winona thinks marriage is nothing but a joke to her, then there's no need for the Grahm family to continue existing in this world."