Short Romance Stories & Novels

A lethal neurotoxin had taken hold of my lungs. My time is running out. My mother, Sofia, was the most connected lawyer in Palermo, excelling in burying crimes and twisting the law. When my brother Vincent mowed me down and shattered my leg, she called in every favor to clear his record. My father, Tommaso, the most feared private doctor in Sicily, faked my medical files, branding me unstable and delusional, all to mold me into the obedient son they needed. Then there was Lina, only daughter of Don Vitali, my wife. She said, “We let him out for Vincent’s liver. What if he says no?” Dad’s voice went cold. “He has two choices: lie quietly on that operating table… or waste away in the sanatorium for what’s left of his life.” I pushed the parlor door open, steady and slow. My voice was flat. “I’ll do it.” Every one of them let out a breath they’d been holding, showering me with hollow words. They didn’t know there was no life left to threaten. I had twenty-four hours. By sunrise, I would be dead either way. Funny… now that I’m in the ground, why are they all crying?

The day my parents travel thousands of miles to discuss our wedding, Teresa Harper and her family have yet to show up. After my third call goes straight to voicemail, Mom smiles and reassures me. "They're probably just stuck in traffic. It's fine, your dad and I can wait." Except we wait for three hours. My parents' expressions slowly shift from bright anticipation to quiet heartache. Dad tugs at his ill-fitting blazer for the 100th time. Finally, his eyes well up, and his voice cracks as he asks, "Colin… does it really have to be her? "We're just simple country folks. We know we don't have much, and we're nothing compared to city folks. We even agreed when they asked you to be their live-in son-in-law. "I don't want to break you two up. I'm just worried. You're thousands of miles away from home out here. If things get bad down the road, your mom and I… won't be able to just rush over and comfort you." Digging my fingernails into my palms, I force a smile and help them up from their seats. "Dad, Mom, let's go home. The wedding is off."

Since it's already the end of the year, I'm slacking off at my job. That's when I come across a forum post on the Internet. "My husband has gone on a business trip on his own. This is the photo he sent me when he updated me on his situation. Everyone, can you please take a look at the photo and tell me if there are any problems with it?" The Internet users are quick to go into their Sherlock Holmes mode. Still, they aren't able to spot any problems with the photo. But a comment is quick to catch my attention. "Am I the only one who thinks that this post is a clickbait? Could it be that a disloyal jerk who's cheating on his wife wants to proclaim his devotion toward her but is scared that he might get caught? Maybe that's why this photo is uploaded here instead so that everyone can help him find out what's wrong with this photo!" As soon as the comment is posted, the original poster deletes the post instantly. This makes me frown. At the same time, my husband, Gavin Prescott, sends me a photo on WhatsApp. "Honey, here's my daily update! Your darling husband is still devoted to you as always!" As I stare at the photo, which is exactly the same one that was posted on the Internet, I feel my heart sinking. This is definitely not a coincidence!

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."

After the New Year, some of my husband's former students are back to visit him. So, my husband, Isaac Cooper, treats them to dinner. They greet us warmly, but when they first see me, there is a hint of surprise in their eyes. In the private room, Isaac takes my hand. Everyone starts teasing us. "Mr. and Mrs. Cooper are so loving. I'm so jealous!" I lower my head shyly and excuse myself to the restroom, only to overhear two of his students chatting. "I was startled just now. I thought Mr. Cooper's wife would be Lilith Walker." "But Mrs. Cooper looks so much like her. When she walked in, I almost mistook her for Lilith." I freeze on the spot. I know Lilith is Isaac's ex-girlfriend, but I have never seen her in person. Cold water runs over my hands. As I look at my carefully made-up face in the mirror, I suddenly feel a wave of nausea.

I was a painter, but a car accident took my eyesight. When I was at my lowest, it was my childhood friend, Connor Pitt, who stayed by my side the whole time. He became the only light left in my life. Later, we got married. However, two years into our marriage, I accidentally discovered a recording on the computer. “Connor, thank you for saving me. But you hid the truth from Faye and took her corneas for me. When she wakes up, how are you going to explain it to her? What if she calls the police?” “She won’t find out the truth. I won’t let her. She’s blind anyway. I’ll marry her and keep her under my control, right by my side. June, for you, I’d do anything.” I was stunned, and a shiver ran down my spine. The salvation I thought I had found had been a lie from the very beginning. After sending a copy of the recording to my phone, I scheduled an abortion at the hospital. If that was the case, then it was time for us to go our separate ways.

Five years after my death, my wife, Charlotte Blake, once again asks me to take the fall for Leo Cane, her first love, in his drunk driving case. She barges into my home with fabricated evidence but finds no trace of me anywhere. Left with no other choice, she knocks on my neighbor's door. My neighbor tells her something unexpected. "Shane Foster? He's been dead for a long time. I heard the victim's family from the case he was convicted for wasn't satisfied with the verdict. "They abducted him the day he got out of prison and tortured him for three days straight." Charlotte refuses to believe it. She furiously accuses me of making up any lie to escape responsibility. She storms at the neighbor, shouting, "You think I don't know Shane paid you to cover for him? "Tell him there's no use in hiding. If he doesn't contact me within three days, he won't get a single cent of child support for that bastard." But she doesn't know that the person Leo killed in that drunk driving accident is the very "bastard" she keeps referring to.

It was the day of my wedding. Wendy Halton huddled up to me and whispered, "I slept with Joe." She pointed at the big screen, a smile curling her lips. "Summer dumped you so she could have Joe. I swore I'd make her drink from the well of betrayal. So, I slept with the man she loves." My eyes went wide with disbelief. It was then that I realized the screen wasn't showing our wedding photos. Instead, they were showing something far raunchier, filthier. It was Wendy, and she was going at it with Joe Noelson. Three years ago, I caught my then-fiancée, Summer Shaw, cheating with Joe, who happened to be the underprivileged student that I sponsored. That single moment snuffed out all hope I had for the world, but Wendy barged in like a beam of angelic light. Now, she had gouged open my chest with the same weapon Wendy destroyed me with. Tears fell before I could stop them. A frown creased Wendy's forehead. "Stop crying. I got revenge for you. You should be happy."

When I was nine, I was caught in the blast while trying to save Joel Yorks, and the loud wave took away my hearing. Since then, I have had to wear hearing aids. Joel felt guilty. He insisted on having my hand in marriage. With his eyes welling up in tears, he swore, “Helen, I’ll take care of you for the rest of your life.” However, when I turned eighteen… Everything changed because he wanted to please the prettiest girl in the school. He ripped off my hearing aid in front of her and our classmates and said in disdain, “I’ve had enough of you being a burden. I really wish you hadn’t survived that day when you were nine. It would have been better if you were dead.” I clutched my audiology report and stayed silent. When I got home, I quietly revised my college applications and formally broke the engagement along with my parents. Joel and I would go our separate ways after that. We would not need to meet again.

I'm the only heir to the wealthiest conglomerate in the world. My father, Tyrone Ferguson, is extremely powerful and has forces from both the underworld and the legal world eating out of his palm. But I witness my girlfriend, Vivian Vega, giving a "Voluntary Transfer of Body Ownership" contract to my arch nemesis, Richard Larkin, at our engagement ceremony. "Don't be mad at us, Isaac." Vivian shows me the contract, her tone still light and casual. "I love you, so I'll reserve my most treasured virginity for you. I will always be your wife, but I want to give the ownership of my body to Richard." "The hell are you on about?" With a deep frown on my face, I attempt to pull Vivian away from Richard, only to get pushed away by the latter. Vivian quickly moves to stand in front of Richard, her brows tangled into a frown. "Stop being so narrow-minded, Isaac! I'm free to give anyone my body!" She then stands on her tiptoes to kiss Richard right in front of me. At that moment, I become the biggest joke in elite society. Before the mass media begins spreading the news, I send out a text message calmly. "There's no need to help cover up for the Vega family's shady businesses anymore."

When I took my five-year-old son, Ethan Drake, for a routine medical checkup, I noticed an additional renal function test listed on the report. “This is a mandatory item for kidney donor matching. Didn’t you know?” the nurse asked. Her explanation left me confused. “The checkup I booked didn’t include this test. Could there have been a mistake?” “There’s no mistake. The appointment was made by Ms. Serena Vaughn. She specifically added this item.” The Serena the nurse mentioned was my wife. At that moment, my sharp eyes caught another form in her hand: [Diagnosis: Polycystic Kidney Disease. Patient: Noah Vaughn. Family: Serena Vaughn.] I immediately called Serena. “The nurse said you scheduled a kidney donor matching test for our son. What’s going on?” There was a three-second pause before she spoke. “The nurse must have made a mistake. I’ve been busy lately. Don’t call me if there’s nothing important.” I smiled and told her I’d do that. Then I turned to the nurse and asked, “Which ward is Noah staying in?”

In my previous life, Timothy Yance's female best friend, Selina Sunther, provoked me during my and Timothy's anniversary dinner. "Rosalie, Timothy got super drunk two days ago, and I was the one who helped him change his underwear. But we're really close buddies, so don't think too much about it." I completely lost my composure at that time, resulting in me hurling my wedding ring away and tearing the marriage certificate into pieces. Later on, I gave up on all of our joint assets just so I could stay away from the shameless pair. In the end, I died in a rehabilitation center located in another country. No one bothered to reach out to me at all. After I got buried, Timothy and Selina worked together to build their business empire. Everyone sang praises about their ethereal love for each other. While people were envious of them for being such a perfect couple, they showed nothing but disdain and mockery toward me when I was mentioned. "Timothy's ex-wife never knew how to appreciate him. No wonder she wasn't worthy of him." When I open my eyes again, I've returned to the night of the anniversary dinner. This time, I just smile serenely at Selina instead of breaking down. Then, I turn to link arms with my male best friend, Calvin Solt, whom I've specifically invited to dinner. I even rest my cheek on his chest. Timothy's expression changes drastically, whereas Selina's smile freezes on her face. Calvin merely smiles faintly before he raises his glass to Timothy as a toast. "Don't misunderstand our relationship, Timothy. Rosalie and I have known each other for 20 years, so we're used to taking care of each other. "Heck, I was also the one taking care of Rosalie the whole time on our first night together, be it in bed or the aftercare."

"We partied too hard last night and forgot to use protection—don't forget to buy morning-after pills for your wife." Looking at the woman's smooth bare back and the red mole on her neck in the photo, I felt absolutely nothing. Again. Five years of marriage, and this wasn't the first time. Kathy liked to test me this way. She called it her "little experiment." The first time, she "accidentally" left a receipt for condoms on the nightstand. I got angry and confronted her, but she just smiled with contempt. "Why are you so petty? My girlfriends and I bought that on purpose just to see how you'd react." The second time was on our wedding anniversary. A guy showed up at our door with a bouquet of roses, ready to propose to her right then and there. I got into a fistfight with him, fell down a flight of stairs, and broke three ribs. That's when she finally strolled out and told me the guy was an actor, and the whole thing was supposed to be a surprise for me. Five years. Her games kept getting more extreme. From flirty texts to explicit photos, she kept pushing my limits. And I'd gone from furious to completely numb. Since she loved testing me so much, fine—I'd give her exactly what she wanted.

For ten years, I've served as the lover supporting Catherine Sanders from the shadows. With my help, she's able to save her company from the brink of bankruptcy and eventually gets it listed. On the day before we're about to ring the bell, just as I'm about to propose to Catherine, she introduces her childhood sweetheart, Benedict Shaw. Apparently, he is to take over my position in her life. She thanks me for my contributions throughout the decade, but her company is about to embark on a new journey. That means I'm no longer suitable to stay by her side. As I watch the woman I spent the last ten years loving and sacrificing everything for using a bank card to dismiss me, I feel as though my heart has plunged into the icy abyss. "I spent ten years devoting everything I have to you. In the end, it's nothing but a huge mistake." But Catherine remains blind to the truth. Once I quit my job, her company will cease to exist, just like my love for her.

My girlfriend is the true heiress of a wealthy family, yet she suffers from severe paranoia. She's convinced that everyone is out to exploit her. She never believed in my love. In her eyes, I stayed with her only for status and money. To prove my sincerity, during our seven years together, I never spent a single cent of hers. I handed over every paycheck I earned. As for myself, I couldn't even afford a few dollars for a taxi. Every day, I walked five kilometers to work. Then one day, my mother was in a sudden car accident. The doctor called and told me to come see her for the last time. The hospital was thirty kilometers away. There was no way I could make it on foot in time. Left with no choice, I asked my girlfriend to transfer me thirty dollars for a taxi. She flew into a rage. "Simon, thirty dollars is your entire monthly living expense. How dare you ask me for that much all at once? I almost believed your feelings were genuine. But now I see—you're no different from those gold-diggers!" In the end, I never made it to see my mother one last time. When I returned home in a daze, I found my girlfriend throwing a birthday party for her childhood sweetheart. He was wearing the latest luxury watch, his face full of smug pride. "This is the one you bought at an overseas auction, right? Worth thirty million," he said. "You wouldn't even give Simon thirty dollars for a taxi. You're really generous with me." My girlfriend smiled indulgently. "It's only thirty million. It's not like I can't afford it. "Besides, how could Simon ever compare to you? Today, he dares to ask me for thirty. Tomorrow, he'll dare to ask me for thirty thousand. "I've always known it. He's been with me just to take my money." I stood there, frozen, my heart sinking into the abyss. 'It's fine. I don't want her money anymore. And I don't want her, either.'

On the day of our wedding, I went to my fiancée's house to bring her to the venue—only to find her at her ex-boyfriend's wedding. When I confronted her, she didn't even blink. "Having a wedding with me is Keith's obsession. It's just a sham. I'm only putting on a dress to go through the motions with him. We're doing the ceremony. It's not like we're actually going to sleep together. What are you so worked up about?" I didn't argue with her anymore. I chose to respect her decision. So I called the childhood friend who had secretly loved me for years. "I'm ready to marry you now." But when she saw me marrying that childhood friend, she completely lost it—like a woman possessed. She insisted on marrying me instead, demanding to know why I had chosen someone else.

My husband, Alex Walter, was the head of the Bodyguard Association. When I was about to be killed by the kidnappers, he was comforting his childhood crush, Susan Miller, who was sobbing in his arms. While the kidnappers stopped for a meal, I called Alex five times calmly. He was angry when he finally answered. "Susan was just rescued from the kidnappers, and she needs me. If you want me to come home, stop using your own kidnapping as some excuse to compete for attention. It is pathetic!" Hearing Susan's sweet and delicate voice in the background, I had no time to argue with him. Instead, I called the Bodyguard Association. The operator informed me that Alex had pulled all the city's bodyguards away thirty minutes earlier to rescue Susan. When the kidnappers returned, they mocked Alex's heroic efforts to save Susan, mobilizing the entire force for her. If I remember correctly, this was Susan's twenty-eighth kidnapping this month. As the kidnappers approached me with guns and tasers, I closed my eyes in despair. Before I died, I used all my strength to send Alex one last text message, [No matter what, I loved you. Move on from me.]

I booked a consultation with a renowned traditional medicine practitioner six months in advance to treat my surgeon wife's arousal disorder over the holidays. However, on the appointment date, Wendy did not show up. Just as I was about to call to question her, I noticed a photo her male friend had posted on social media. In the photo, my usually aloof wife was hugging the guy with a radiant smile. The caption read: [Only I can cure your problem.] But what caught my attention was my wife's flushed face in the photo, clearly displaying signs of arousal. With a cold smirk, I immediately liked and commented: [You must have magic fingers that work wonders!] The comment section exploded, with everyone speculating whether I would tear my wife's lover apart. What awaited my wife was our official divorce after the cooling-off period ended.

After the Ferguson family went bankrupt, I gave up everything I had and followed Ethan Ferguson to Stormbay. Five years later, he had fought his way back into the top three on the Forbes rich list. He rebuilt the empire everyone believed he had lost for good. He never mentioned marriage, no matter how much we had been through together. I did not understand the reason until the night before Memorial Day. I woke after midnight and saw Ethan standing alone on the terrace of our beachfront house. The cold ocean wind swept through the darkness while he lit three white candles one by one. Their flames flickered softly against the night. He faced the distant horizon across the sea and lowered his voice. “Mom, Dad… I’m sorry I couldn’t come see you again this year.” He paused, and his expression softened. “However, please keep watching over Vivi. Keep her healthy… and bless the two of us with a long, happy life together.” Warmth spread through my chest as I listened. My health had never been good, and every year near Memorial Day, Ethan refused to let me exhaust myself with the long trip home. He always went alone to visit his parents’ graves while I stayed behind in Stormbay. This year, when I saw the homesickness in his eyes, I decided to surprise him. I wanted to make the trip in his place. I never expected my entire world to collapse the moment I arrived at the cemetery. Ethan’s name was carved into the headstone. Beside it was the name of another woman. Olivia Ferguson. My gaze drifted lower. A framed family photograph sat at the foot of the headstone. Its edges had curled from the ocean wind. In the picture, Ethan held a little blond-haired boy in his arms. The child looked no older than three. Olivia stood beside him, smiling softly at the camera. A sharp pain cut through my chest. Only then did I understand the truth. The “Vivi” Ethan prayed for was never Vivian. It had been Olivia all along.

Eight years into our marriage, my husband was as childish as ever. He loved playing pranks on me, constantly leaving gag gifts around the house. I would just smile, toss them into the storage closet and think nothing of it. A few days later, while deep-cleaning the house, I remembered his latest box and decided to throw it out. But the moment I lifted the lid, a foul, putrid stench hit me. Inside the box lay a severed human hand. Terrified, I collapsed to the floor, my fingers trembling as I dialed 911. When the DNA results came back, the detective's expression was a twisted mix of confusion and horror. "Ma'am, the DNA extracted from the severed limb..." he stammered. "It belongs to Michael Miller."