Short Romance Stories & Novels

On New Year's Eve, my boyfriend, Leon Parker, proposed to Charlotte Rain in front of all our relatives.  I didn’t cry or make a scene. All I wanted was an explanation for the years of love I had invested in him. Then, I overheard a conversation he had with his brother. “You’ve been together with Annabelle for so many years. Have you never had any feelings for her?” “Feelings? What are you talking about? I only kept her around to entertain myself and kill some time.” “Aren't you worried she’ll leave you?” “That’s impossible! We’ve been together for five whole years. She’s so used to being with me that she could never leave me even if she wanted to.” After that, I had a whirlwind marriage with a blind date my family matched me with, and our wedding just so happened to be on the same day as his. Before his wedding, he was on edge, worried I’d show up to make a scene. That was when he saw the wedding invitation I posted online.

Noah left me at the altar three times—for his precious Freya. First time? She threatened to jump off a building. Second? Said she was moving abroad. Third? Sent a text saying she was getting forced into some arranged marriage. Noah, usually Mr. Cool, freaked. Left a packed venue and turned me into a total joke. Again. I called him. "If you don't come back today, I'm marrying someone else." He laughed. "Freya's young. You're too old to be playing games, aren't you?" I clutched my phone, heart sinking. He knew Freya was bluffing. Still picked her. That's when I finally gave up. Later, after he'd calmed her down, he came looking for me. "Pick a new wedding date," he said, like it was no big deal. "It'll be even grander this time." A guy's voice cut through, smiling. "Sorry, man. Gotta get my wife on the plane."

The day my cancer is diagnosed, my husband slaps me across the face. "You're vicious! You're even pretending to have cancer just to look more pitiful than your sister!" My son shouts, "Mom is horrible! I hate Mom!" I don't cry or make a scene. I quietly put the test results away and choose a grave for myself. In 15 days, I'll leave this city to die somewhere else in peace. I won't even give them the chance to regret it.

My fiancé leaves me jilted on our wedding day and marries my sister. As I stand there, feeling humiliated, William Sterling gets on one knee before me and asks me to marry him. Everyone in my city knows of him—he's an elite bachelor and every woman's dream. Yet now, he slips a wedding band onto my ring finger and confesses his love for me. "I've always loved you, and I thank the heavens for giving me the chance to spend my life with you." We get married, and he treats me well. Everyone knows that he won't fall for anyone other than me. Everything changes when I accidentally enter his studio in the seventh year of our marriage. I see that he's painted thousands of portraits of my sister, Ivy Winslow. Each one is a tender confession of his love for her. The man I love with all my heart earnestly prays to the heavens and utters his wish. He's willing to sacrifice anything for Ivy to be happy, including his life. It turns out what I thought was seven years of love was nothing but a lie. Ivy is the one he's loved all along. If that's the case, I'll back out. I'll leave in three days, and I hope he and Ivy can be happy together.

After falling head over heels for Joe Smith for three years, I finally got the proposal I had been waiting for. However, on the day of our wedding, he did not show up until the wee hours of the morning. When I found him, Joe was drinking happily with a young girl in his arms. “I’m already tired of her clinginess. She’s a joke. Who else would want her?” Much later, he made me a wedding ring and proposed with my favorite jasmine flowers. But a muscular man opened the door instead. The man had two scratch marks on his neck and smirked at the disheveled Joe. “Isn’t it a bit too shameless of you to propose to a married woman?”

My mom made me pretend to be a boy since I was a child, all in hopes of winning my father’s love. As I was about to graduate from college, I decided to leave the country for good. However, I never expected my secret crush to tie me up.

In October 2025, an explosion occurs at a remote lab. An unidentified substance is leaked, and the virus makes people go insane. Anyone who is bitten by these rabid creatures becomes one of them. It's like the zombies people see in movies and video games. On the first day of the explosion, my five-year-old, Joyce Fairfield, is still at kindergarten. I risk my life to hurry there, but I can't even find her corpse when I arrive. I can only look at the surveillance footage to see her face, which is ashen with fear. I also see her mouth, "Mommy!" 15 days after the explosion, I finally traverse the city and get to my mother's home. However, all that welcomes me is a destroyed apartment and blood everywhere. 20 days after the explosion, my husband, Emmett Fairfield, calls me one last time from his office, which zombies have surrounded. He tells me not to leave the house. Less than a month after the apocalypse arrives, I lose all my family. I'm alone as I struggle to survive in this dead world. The spread of the virus triggers chaos in mankind. I exchange all my supplies to save a neighboring couple from bandits, leading them to safety in a secure zone where they can live stable lives. However, my kindness is not repaid. Three years after the explosion, the secure zone is under siege by a wave of zombies. As we retreat, my neighbors shove me underneath a car so I'll distract the zombies. Then, they make a run for it and get away. Trusted neighbors betray me. As the zombies eat away at me, I can feel death looming. All I want is to see my family again. Now, I've been reborn. I have six hours before the zombie apocalypse breaks out.

On my wedding day, my fiancé’s childhood sweetheart arrived, wearing the exact same custom wedding dress as me. They stood together, greeting guests, while I smiled and praised them as a match made in heaven. Humiliated, she left the venue in tears. In her defense, my fiancé publicly accused me of being petty and unreasonable. After the wedding reception, he left with her for the honeymoon we had planned together. I didn’t cry. Instead, I called my lawyer immediately.

I was finally pregnant with his child after being married to Grady Winters for five years. I planned to share the wonderful news with him in person, but on that fateful day, I encountered his first love, who had just returned from abroad. She scalded me with soup, spilling it across me before shoving me down the stairs. Curled up and fighting through the piercing pain in my abdomen, I heard her cold, mocking laughter from above. "Who do you think you are to be Mrs. Winters? I've seen plenty of women who are social climbers." Then, she turned to Grady, her voice laced with pride. She playfully pouted, asking, "Didn't I do a good job, Grady? Don't you think you should reward me as well?"

My fiancé’s first love and I fell down the stairs at the same time, and he chose to save her instead, leaving me to lie there in a pool of blood as I waited for an ambulance. On the brink of death, I begged him not to abandon me, and he only kicked my hand away, saying, “Elodie, can’t you show a little kindness? Don’t you see that Celeste is unconscious?! “…I’ll make sure you pay for this later!” ‘Later’, as he put it, didn’t come to pass. As he left with his first love in his arms, I died along with the baby inside my womb.

It was my third year with Timothy Jones when he had fallen for someone else and wanted to end things. At his birthday party, he embraced a petite and cute woman, telling his friends, "It's better to go for the sweet, innocent ones." Someone asked, "What about Olivia?" "Olivia? We've been fooling around for three years. Sure, she's fun, but sometimes you need a change of pace, right?" The "Olivia" he casually dismissed was me. And his new girlfriend? None other than my dad's illegitimate daughter, Willow Lambert. It was fine. I decided it was time for me to change things up, too.

Five years after migrating abroad, my husband, Shawn Johnson, brings his true love and her son home. "Jill and Neil are new here. They'll be staying with us for a few days." He and I get into a huge fight over this. On my birthday, Shawn hands me a divorce agreement. He says, "Hurry up and sign it. Jill needs this country's citizenship, so let's divorce for show first." I frown, wanting to ask for more details. However, he points at me and calls me heartless. Shortly after, I see Jill's social media update. "Shawnie divorced his wife for me and Neil! We finally have a roof over our heads." I like the post and sign the divorce agreement. Then, I submit an application to my company to be transferred home.

The night before our wedding, Desmond Arlington got jumped out of nowhere. By the time I made it to the hospital, he stared at me like I was a total stranger. Doctor said it was memory loss—some brain rattle from the hit. Temporary, supposedly. So I went full nostalgia tour, dragging him back to all our spots, hoping something would click. Then one day at the hospital, I caught him running his mouth with his buddy. "Rhea's trying so hard. Doesn't that do anything for you?" "Do what? I'm over it. Same spots, same girl. The new ones are way more fun." "So why marry her? Just call it off and live your life." He snapped, "Shut up. I LOVE Rhea. I'd never bail on the wedding. I'm just... pushing it back a bit." I looked down at the test results—zero issues. Everything normal. And that's when it hit me: you can't help a faker.

I'm staring at this man who looks exactly like my husband, overwhelmed by fear, as I received a message that read, "He's not your husband!"What's even more bizarre is that the name displayed as the sender of the text on my phone is "My Dear Husband"!Who on earth should I believe?

To the outside world, Xavier Sullivan and I are a loving couple. In truth, my father sold me to him to repay the debt he owes the Sullivan family. When the five-year contract expires, Xavier's parents want me to extend it. They threaten me and tell me I'm heading for certain death if I refuse. I have no choice but to fake my death and leave everything behind, taking only the child in my belly with me.

I've been in a relationship with my brother's best friend, Emilio Slater, for three years, but he's never been willing to make our relationship public. Still, I never doubt his love for me. After all, he's been with 99 women before, yet he stops looking at anyone else because of me. Even if I have a slight cold, he drops billion-dollar projects and rushes home to take care of me. But on my birthday, when I'm excitedly preparing to share the news of my pregnancy with Emilio, he forgets my birthday for the first time and vanishes without a trace. The housekeeper tells me he's gone to pick up someone important from the airport. I rush there and see him holding flowers, his face full of nervous anticipation, waiting for a woman—one who looks strikingly like me. Later, my brother tells me she's Emilio's first love, the one he can never forget. Emilio defied his parents for her, and he fell apart after she dumped him. He sought out 99 women who resembled her to fill the void. My brother speaks with admiration for Emilio's deep devotion, unaware that I'm one of those stand-ins. I watch Emilio and his first love for a long, long time. Then, I return to the hospital without hesitation. "Doctor, I don't want this child anymore."

The day that I divorced my third husband, the system told me that I had completely failed my mission. I had married three times in this world and they were all targets that were supposed to fall for me. But every single one of them chose to divorce me because of Wendy Somerfield. The system pitied me for doing my best for the past 30 years, so it asked me to target my son. It said that if my son could confidently choose me, between me and Wendy, then I could live. However, it was no exception that the son I gave birth to after 40 weeks of pregnancy chose Wendy, just like my three ex-husbands. They all even pinned the cause of Wendy's illness on me. My first husband, who was my childhood sweetheart, pretended to be softhearted, but he was actually ruthless. He actually tried to convince me to donate one of my kidneys to Wendy. My second husband, who I met on a blind date, used a scalpel to personally cut open my body. My third husband, who I fell in love with at first sight, even threatened me with my son. While spitting out blood from my mouth, I agreed to their requests with a smile. However, when they saw me being pushed out of the operating room, those people who turned their backs on me went crazy.

Upon discovering I was pregnant, I excitedly rushed to my husband’s company to put our baby down as our insurance beneficiary. However, I was shocked to read my husband’s file. Partner: Victoria Winston Children: Jack Hudson, Sophia Hudson. I froze. The HR manager said the woman was his legally wedded wife and the heiress to the largest hotel chain on the East Coast. Their children were already seven years old. It felt like my world was crumbling down around me. If she was his wife, what was I? His mistress of five years? His friend with benefits? Even more absurdly, I was now pregnant with his child. A child who would never be acknowledged by their father. An illegitimate child. I nodded dazedly. My whole body felt weak. The man I considered my husband was never mine. Even after death, his gravestone would not have my name!

While my husband was chatting with his friend at the dining table, his friend suddenly spoke in Italian. “You married Lyra to write a pardon letter for River. You’ve been showing more concern toward Lyra, but you’re still lying to her and saying that the contraceptives are antidepressants. Don’t you think Lyra will break down if she learns the truth?” My husband wore a complicated expression as he chuckled bitterly and said, “Why let a child be born if I don’t want it? As for Lyra, so long as she doesn’t interfere with River’s happiness, I’ll keep my promise and protect her for life.” No one knew that I had already learned Italian to keep up with my husband. I stood in the living room with fresh hickeys on my neck. In my hand, I held the “antidepressants” and felt a chill run down my spine. So, my husband’s love for me had been fake? My salvation had actually been a meticulously planned lie? In that case, I would help them fulfill their wishes.

Right after returning from a business trip, Cecelia Moore held her ultrasound report as she hurried to the private suite at the club. She was eager to surprise her husband, Francis Rivera. Just as she was about to open the door, she caught a few words drifting through the crack that stopped her cold. "…So, Fran, did you really marry Cecelia Moore just to protect Melody Green?" In that instant, every drop of blood in Cecelia's body seemed to freeze—she couldn't move.