Short Romance Stories & Novels

My parents fly across the country for the tenth time to meet my girlfriend, Sienna Holloway, yet she's nowhere to be found. She doesn't answer my calls or reply to my texts. Somewhere between my third and fourth cup of coffee, I see a new post from my buddy, Nolan Prescott, on my feed. It features eight photos of snow-covered mountains, and the last photo shows two hands laced together. The caption reads, "She joined me for the tenth trip. A perfect ten." I nearly crush my phone in my fist, my veins standing out across my knuckles. After 27 unanswered calls, Sienna finally picks up. "Where are you?" Wind crackles through the speaker, and her voice comes back distracted and flat. "Out. Why?" "Why? This is the tenth time. My parents are too old to keep flying out here, and you—" She goes quiet for a second, then sighs. "God, relax. Nolan and I are having fun skiing up at Ridgeline Pass. I just forgot. "Tell them to wait three more days. I'll come see them when I'm done here." Before I can get another word out, she hangs up. My reflection stares back at me from the dark screen, my lips pressed into a thin line. After that, I smile at my parents and say, "Since she won't show, let's set me up with someone new."

I'm learning to swim when my childhood friend, Vivian Thorne, fakes a cramp. My boyfriend, Oliver Wilde, suddenly lets go of my hand and swims toward her. I'm left alone in the two-yard-deep pool, completely stunned. After Oliver carries Vivian ashore, he smiles as he watches me thrash around. "Vivian says you rely on me too much and need a push to learn, so just swim over here yourself." I choke on water and sink. At the sight of my struggle, Vivian laughs so hard she slaps her thigh. Oliver says something to her, then drapes a towel over her shoulders in resignation. Even though I can't hear what he says, I bet it must be, "Now that you've had your laugh, don't tease her the next time. Aria is already pitiful enough with her fear of water." It's true that I was born with a fear of water. I've known them for seven years. All this time, Oliver and Vivian have been tormenting me under the guise of helping me overcome my fear of water. In college, at the beach, Vivian deliberately pushes me off the speedboat. Oliver jumps in to shield her and watches me swallow a bellyful of seawater in the waves. On the graduation rafting trip, Vivian suddenly capsizes the kayak. Oliver swims over to pull her up and watches me slam into a rock, my leg bleeding nonstop. Last year at the water park, Vivian shoves me down the waterslide. Oliver slides down to catch her and leaves me in the pool, nearly suffocating with fear. Every time, my fear and despair are met with a burst of laughter from Vivian. Meanwhile, Oliver stands behind her, always saying the same thing. "No more next time." However, the next time always turns into Vivian's new way of having fun at my expense. Water floods into my mouth and nose, the suffocation shooting straight to the top of my skull. But suddenly, I realize that I can actually float on my own. I grab the safety rope and haul myself ashore. Two pairs of hands reach out to pull me up, but I push them away. "From now on, I don't need you two to help me build up my courage anymore."

I had worked for Customs and Border Protection for five years, but my unusually sensitive sense of smell was classified, so my husband always believed I was an ordinary office assistant. On our third wedding anniversary, I saw the husband who claimed he had to work late standing in the airport arrivals hall. He was gently brushing the hair away from his ex-girlfriend Celeste Vaughn's face, smiling at her tenderly. When he noticed me, he lowered his hand as though nothing had happened and instinctively stepped in front of her. "Nora, did you follow me? It's only a stupid anniversary. Is missing it going to kill you? "Go on, then. What do you want this time? A purse? Shoes? Jewelry?" The surrounding travelers looked me up and down with contempt. It felt like being slapped in public. I pushed the ultrasound image deeper into my pocket and pinched my trembling fingertips. "I didn't follow you." "Damien, thank you for meeting my flight, but your wife is more important. Be good and spend today with her. "And don't speak to a woman so harshly. Apologize." Damien Cole stiffly muttered, "Sorry." My eyes widened. I couldn't believe the proud, untouchable Damien had obeyed her so readily. My heart sank. Celeste patted Damien's shoulder, took the suitcase from his hand, nodded politely to me, and turned toward the exit checkpoint. Then a strange odor reached me. I stepped in front of her. "I'm sorry, but open your suitcase. Customs needs to inspect it."

Everyone said I was the most generous man alive. When my CEO wife brought her brother-in-law and his son through the door, he stood there with bloodshot eyes. "Emmett's mother is gone. Could I borrow Colette for a few days to be his mom? He cries every night. It's breaking my heart." Without a word, I went to the bedroom and packed Colette Harmon's things for her. "We're family. You don't have to ask." At my son's birthday party, Emmett Pryce wanted to go to the amusement park and told everyone he did not want to share his new mom. My son immediately turned to the guests and apologized, saying, "Ms. Harmon has an urgent matter to attend to. We'll have to wrap up today's party here. Thank you all for coming." Everyone praised us, father and son, for being so gracious about it. Only I knew what had really happened. My son and I had been reborn. In our previous life, Colette had favored her widowed brother-in-law, Stefan Pryce, just the same. I had swallowed every last bit of it. When my patience finally ran out, I forced the divorce. Not long after, my son developed a heart condition and needed an artificial heart. The medical bills were staggering, so I had nowhere else to turn but Colette. However, she laughed in my face and threw me out into the blizzard. "You'll never be half the man Stefan is. Give it up." My son's heart stopped in my arms. Now that we had been reborn, I willingly let these things slide. All I wanted was for my son to live.

After finishing the buffalo wings, I casually pick up an iced beer to cut the spice. My stepsister, Zoe Cruz, tries to copy me, fanning her mouth and sticking out her tongue from the heat. But my boyfriend, Luke Nash, snatches the beer away. He pinches her cheek playfully and says, "You just ate all that greasy, spicy food, and now you're chugging ice-cold beer? Are you trying to wreck your stomach?" Then he turns his head and frowns at me with displeasure. "Same goes for you. You know Zoe has zero self-control, so why do you have to drink that right in front of her? Go outside. Come back in after you finish your beer." My grip instantly tightens around the beer bottle. Furious, Zoe wraps her arm around his neck, pretending to strangle him. "Since when do you get to boss me around? Mia, tell Luke off! Luke, I'm older than you! Watch your tongue, or I won't give Mia permission to marry you." Refusing to back down, Luke sticks his hand into her clothes to tickle her. "Mia, you tell a certain someone that if she doesn't listen to me, she'd better not call me crying in the middle of the night complaining about a stomachache again." I watch the two of them fall back into their seats, laughing. All of a sudden, everything just feels pointless.

When Jonathan Shaw brings his seventh pregnant mistress to me for the delivery, his friends start taking bets on how long it'll take before I break down. But even after the baby's cries echo through the delivery room, they never hear me lose control. "Come on, this is the seventh one. Are you sure she isn't done with you this time?" Jonathan shrugs. "She can't have children, and I've got a family legacy to carry on. I'll end up having kids with other women so they can inherit the family business either way. I might as well have a few now and let her get used to it." As soon as he finishes speaking, I walk out carrying the newborn. Following standard procedure, I announce, "Congratulations. He weighs seven pounds, six ounces. Both the mother and the baby are doing well." Jonathan smiles as he takes the baby from my arms. Then, he hands me a divorce agreement. "Sign it," he orders. "It's just an act to humor her. She refuses to have our second child unless I divorce you first. Once the second baby's born, we'll have eight kids." I've gone along with his little charade seven times already. This time, I sign my name without hesitation. Jonathan seems to have forgotten one thing. It's not that I can't have children. We're just genetically incompatible. If I want a child, I just have to find a different man. Why would I spend the rest of my life raising someone else's children just to stay married to him?

On my birthday, I accidentally found out that the boyfriend I had secretly loved for three years and happily dated for one was actually hired by my father. It was a one-year contract with an eight-figure payout, and his mission was to make me realize the hardships of dating for love so that I’d accept an arranged marriage. Standing at the corner of the corridor, I overheard my boyfriend on the phone with my father. “Don’t worry, Mr. Hill. Everything is going exactly according to plan. I’ll crush her hopes. I guarantee that before the contract expires, she will be entirely done with me. After that, she’ll willingly marry whoever you’ve arranged for her.” I quietly followed him back to his private room, only to hear his friends teasing him. “Man, that heiress is so incredibly gullible. You put on a little show, and she bought it. She’s so naive.” “You didn’t actually fall for her, did you? How much longer do you have to keep this up anyway? Ruby has been waiting for you for a long time!” He let out a low grunt in agreement. “She’s just a client, and a client whose contract is about to expire, at that. Besides, her dad just paid way too much to pass up.” The group paused for a second and then burst into a collective roar of laughter. Standing outside, I smiled too. I had heard of renting a girlfriend before, but this was my very first time encountering a professional boyfriend. Since everyone here was such a brilliant actor, it would be a shame not to play this game to the bitter end. After all, wouldn’t it be a waste of Mr. Hill's massive investment otherwise?

All three of our families gathered for Thanksgiving. During dinner, the topic of Samuel Stanton and Tina Hayford's childhood engagement once again became the center of attention. "Plenty of people get married while they're in graduate school. Have you two thought about it?" "Exactly. You two are so close. Why not get engaged this summer? It'll put both families at ease!" As the relatives on both sides teased them, I looked up and met Samuel's eyes across the table. However, the moment our eyes met, he looked away. Lowering his head, he casually placed some roasted turkey on Tina's plate. "We'll see. It's still too early." My heart sank instantly. This was already the fourth year of our secret relationship. It had been four years, and Samuel still refused to tell anyone that I was his girlfriend. He still used matching mugs with Tina, wore matching outfits with her, and merely smiled whenever their childhood engagement was brought up. He never once denied it. He always said he didn't want to disappoint either family and that he needed to wait for the right moment before telling the truth. This time, I didn't want to wait with him anymore. "Mom, didn't you once say I also had a childhood engagement?" I put down my fork and asked Mom, who was watching Samuel and Tina with an envious smile. "W-Who could that be?" nt our eyes met, he looked away. Lowering his head, he casually placed some roasted turkey on Tina's plate. "We'll see. It's still too early." My heart sank instantly. This was already the fourth year of our secret relationship. It had been four years, and Samuel still refused to tell anyone that I was his girlfriend. He still used matching mugs with Tina, wore matching outfits with her, and merely smiled whenever their childhood engagement was brought up. He never once denied it. He always said he didn't want to disappoint either family and that he needed to wait for the right moment before telling the truth. This time, I didn't want to wait with him anymore. "Mom, didn't you once say I also had a childhood engagement?" I put down my fork and asked Mom, who was watching Samuel and Tina with an envious smile. "W-Who could that be?"

My older sister, Nina Farro, is famous in Balthor's elite circle for being indifferent and refined. But I'm the only person who knows she's just pretending. The moment she finds out she's going to be married to Tristan Conte, the heir of a powerful family in Balthor, she locks herself in the chapel of the Farro residence and refuses to leave. "I don't care how impressive the family background is or how much power they hold. All I want is a peaceful and ordinary life." She sets three conditions for Tristan. First, he has to build a chapel for her in the Conte residence where she can pray in peace. Second, Tristan has to abstain from alcohol and meat for two months before their wedding. Third, Tristan has to agree to live separately from her for three years after marriage and not touch her, as proof of his sincerity. Tristan bursts out laughing in disbelief. "Am I at the right place? Is this the Farro residence or a convent?" "Mr. Farro, if you don't want the business deal in Yak City, plenty of people are ready to take it. We'll see how much longer the Farro family can keep its books balanced." My father, Saul Farro, is quick to apologize, while his wife, Celeste Silvi, puts on a smile and says everything she can to appease Tristan. Alas, no matter what they say, Nina refuses to budge. She insists that Tristan agree to her conditions before she agrees to the marriage alliance with the Conte family. "You can't force something that isn't meant to be. Mr. Conte, if you have no real intention of committing to this marriage, then please see yourself out." When it looks like Tristan is about to storm out and call off the marriage arrangement, I take a deep breath from the corner I was hiding in and dash out to stop him. "Mr. Conte, if Nina won't marry you, I will!"

I open my eyes, only to find Monica Shepherd lying beneath me. I'm just about to get up when a sudden ringing sound prompts Monica to shove me away. Monica's previously flushed face turns completely cold the moment she hangs up. She lights up a cigarette and says indifferently, "You shouldn't come around anymore since the new man I'm seeing gets incredibly jealous. He's quite a handful to deal with." I look into her eyes and readily agree. In my past life, I refuse to let go after she falls for someone else, shamelessly clinging to her like a desperate simp. She absolutely loathes me for that, though, to the point that when she sees a group of thugs break my leg and drag me into an alley, she doesn't hesitate for a second to grab her new man, Michael Harrison, turn her back, and walk away. In this lifetime, I'm the one who doesn't want Monica anymore.

After getting married, my wife, Eva Burnham, and I have been sleeping in separate rooms. I ask her if she wants to move into the master bedroom. She declines without hesitation. "It's okay. Charlie would mind. Also, if it weren't for you, we wouldn't have come to this point in the first place. Let's just keep things like this." Charlie Springer is her first love. I stand where I am, stunned. It takes me a long time to just nod in response. Then, I realize that the marriage is only meant to help my family survive a cash flow crisis and to take care of that tricky lawsuit her company is facing. It's just a deal. When everything is settled, it will naturally be time for us to go our separate ways. So, I stop bringing it up. For the next three years, Eva attends every single event with Charlie. He's there for the family banquets and the annual meetings. Even on my dad's birthday, Charlie is the one standing next to her. Everyone is wondering if Charlie is her actual husband instead. Well, it's over now. Everything is settled. It's time for me to go.

It's our 17th wedding ceremony, and we just make it to the vows. Right on cue, Charlie Shaw's assistant crashes the ceremony. Vivian Wilson drops to her knees in the middle of the aisle, sobbing hysterically. "Please, everyone, you have to help me find my younger brother! His name is Zachary Wilson. He went missing when he was six. He's the only family I have left!" Charlie doesn't even try to stop her. Instead, his fingers clamp down on my wrist like a vice, as if he expects me to fly off the handle. "Don't make a scene," he whispers. "Look at the press coverage we have today. I'll explain everything later." Explain what, exactly? Why did he promise me she wouldn't show up this time, only to break his word all over again? I've listened to the exact conversation 16 times before, and the fight drains out of me completely. I look up, catch the officiant's eye, and signal for him to hand the microphone to Vivian. "It's fine. Give her the microphone," I say. "It's a huge turnout. We shouldn't let the publicity go to waste." Charlie stares at me in surprise. He has no idea that I'm handing the stage over to Vivian permanently. And as for Charlie himself? I'm completely done with him, too.

After seven years of running a noodle shop near her university so I could support my girlfriend through graduate school, she finally earned her doctorate. It was her birthday. I closed the shop early to prepare a proposal, only to see her walk into the restaurant next door with a group of friends. Then my phone buzzed. "I have research tonight. I'll be home late, so go to bed without me." Something made me follow her inside. She was seated at the center of the group while everyone laughed and celebrated her birthday. I smiled and started toward her. Then the man beside my girlfriend stood, dropped to one knee, and held out a diamond ring. It was much larger than mine. "Nat, today is also our third anniversary. You've done so much for me over these three years, and I'm truly grateful. "You knew I had no money, so you quietly sent me eight hundred dollars every month. You knew I was proud, so you found me a part-time job instead of calling it charity. "My laptop, tablet, and every other device I own came from you. "Nat, I love you. Will you marry me?" Every drop of blood in my body seemed to freeze. I gave my girlfriend eight hundred dollars every month for living expenses. I had bought every one of her electronic devices, too, but each one somehow disappeared soon afterward. I had only smiled, told her it was fine, and bought another. When I learned that her classmate was struggling financially, I hired him at my shop without hesitation and paid him another eight hundred dollars a month. So that was the truth. All these years, I had not been supporting one graduate student. I had been supporting my girlfriend and her boyfriend.

When my wife's student, Damon Herman, tries to kill himself again, I don't rush to save him. Instead, I calmly step back. Down below, my wife, Sophie Barrett, turns pale. She yells up at me in a panic, "Don't back away! What are you doing? Pull him down!" In my last life, at the exact same critical moment, I lunged forward to grab Damon, but he shoved me off the ledge. In that final second, there was no fear on his face. Instead, there was only a satisfied smirk. "You have to die for me to get what I want. Don't worry. I'll take good care of Professor Barrett. You can rest in peace now." After my fall, Sophie locked herself away for three days, refusing to eat or drink. I thought she would help me get revenge, but instead, she used mental instability as an excuse to help Damon escape. A year later, they got married. Mom killed herself over the grief, leaving Dad all alone to fight for justice. When I open my eyes, I'm back on the very day Damon pretends to jump.

Two weeks before the wedding, I took my parents to dinner at my fiance Derek Matthews's family home in Larkhaven, Franklin. The evening was supposed to be the last planning meeting between both sets of parents, where we would finalize the ceremony and the honor-table seating. I hadn't expected Derek's childhood friend, Paige Bennett, to be there too. Mrs. Matthews suggested a little dinner-table game. Everyone would draw a numbered envelope. Whoever drew the highest number could ask one small favor of whoever drew the lowest. I drew the lowest number. Derek drew the highest. Everyone urged him to make his request. Paige smiled as though she were only joking. "Derek, let me choose for you. "At the wedding, my parents should sit at the honor table." I thought Derek would at least say that a game was a game and wedding arrangements were not prizes to be claimed. Instead, he merely frowned at me. "It's only two seats. "Paige's parents have always been close to our family. "I won the draw, and the rules say you owe me one request. "Don't embarrass everyone over this." I set down my fork, picked up my phone, and posted a message in our family-and-friends group chat. "There has been a change to the wedding seating. My parents will no longer be at the honor table." Derek visibly relaxed. Paige smiled at me through shining eyes. "Thank you, Hannah. I knew you would be generous." I didn't look at her. I simply continued typing. "Because my parents will not be attending this wedding. "Neither will I."

I had stayed up all night to get the merchandise. It was then callously discarded by my boyfriend. On that stormy day, I knelt beside a dumpster and searched through bags of trash. Yarden Scott stopped in his tracks. “What are you looking for?” “My merch.” I did not look up. “I reminded you three times. It was in the left drawer of the sideboard.” His shirt was soaked from the rain. He subconsciously said, “Yvonne’s car broke down. I went to pick her up. I forgot.” He forgot. Last week, he threw away the commemorative ticket stubs I had stayed up all night organizing because he thought they were scraps of paper. The month before, he threw away the brooch my grandmother left me because he thought it was an old button. Every single time, he brushed it off with the same excuse. I gave a mocking smile. “You always remember everything when it comes to Yvonne, don’t you?” Yarden carefully wiped the hair tie Yvonne Jordan had left behind and answered as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “She’s your best friend. That means I have to treat her very well. “If I keep her happy, our relationship will last. Isn’t it all for your sake?” I watched his practiced movements and felt completely drained. I could not say another word. I had reminded him countless times before not to touch the drawers in my study. He ignored me and threw away my collection of rare stamps. I told him again and again that I was allergic to mangoes. At a group dinner, he still ordered a mango shake for me. But when Yvonne casually mentioned that she had trouble sleeping, he started sending her music to help her sleep every single day. If Yvonne wanted to eat at her favorite restaurant, he would pull every string he could to get a reservation. To him, everything about me was a burden. Everything about Yvonne was worth his time. If that were the case, then I should not bother him any longer.

The annual company party featured a couples' trivia contest. The grand prize was a weekend spa getaway for two. Michael looked at me but he turned and grabbed my best friend Gina’s hand. "Gina and I have better chemistry," he said. "We have a better shot at winning." The host asked the final question, "What is your partner’s biggest fear?" Michael didn’t hesitate. "The dark. She’s been terrified of the dark since childhood." He was answering for Gina. My biggest fear was heights. He had never once gotten it right. They won. The host teased, "With chemistry like that, are you sure you two aren't a couple?" Gina laughed and leaned playfully against his shoulder. "Oh, stop. We just wanted the prize." Michael didn't pull away. After the party, he handed the voucher to me. "Let’s go together." Before I could even answer, he added, "We should bring Gina, too. Her skin is sensitive. She can test the spa waters for us first." It was always like this. Every vacation, she stayed in the room first. Every restaurant, she tried the food first. Every new place we went, she had to experience it first. And with every "test," their connection only grew deeper. I slipped the voucher back into his hand. "You two go," I said. "No need to test it for me anymore.”

I have a severe case of logorrhea. Only speaking makes me feel alive. My classmates all call me a freak, but Marvin Britt is the only one willing to listen to me. One day, I bring some homemade soup over to see him, only to catch him holding his junior's hand. "Lexie, your voice is so lovely, unlike my wife at home. She sounds like a squawking duck. It's exhausting." My hands shake so violently that I drop the thermal flask. The commotion angers a nearby madman, who forces a bottle of boiling water down my throat. With my mouth full of blood and blisters, I realize I need proof. I send Marvin—a lawyer—a frantic voice note to accompany me to the police station for evidence. Marvin shoots back a single word—"Noted". Of course. He doesn't even listen to it, as usual. He used to reply to everything I said with voice notes at least a minute long. But we hit the seven-year itch, and he's sick of my endless talking. Leaving the hospital, I stare at my diagnosis of permanent mutism and laugh bitterly. He must be thrilled. His world is finally quiet.

Five years into therapy, my doctor pushed a consent form across the desk. "Electroconvulsive therapy is the most effective treatment available. But there's a strong chance you'll lose a significant portion of your memories." I stared at the form for a long moment, then picked up the phone and called my wife, Celeste Kendrick. As always, the call was routed to her company's front desk. "I'm sorry, Mr. Hartley. Ms. Kendrick is in a meeting." The receptionist's response was brief and professional. The whole exchange lasted less than three seconds. Five years ago, my mother died in an accident on the same day as our wedding. I left Celeste at the altar. After that, we were married on paper and strangers in every way that mattered. When I called to ask if she was coming home, the call would go straight to the front desk. When I needed a family member's signature for surgery, the call would go to the front desk. Even when I was falling apart and just needed to hear her voice, all I ever got was the receptionist's rehearsed reply. I opened our message history. She had read every single message and never replied to one. Yet just one minute earlier, she had posted on social media.

After my parents got divorced, my mom settled in Teania for good. Every year, I would receive a [Happy Birthday] text message from overseas. However, she never replied to the messages I sent her. I had always wanted to ask my mom in person if she actually cared about me. So, before my SATs, I worked like crazy to save money. I was even afraid I would not be able to resist spending it, so I gave the money to my boyfriend and asked him to keep it for me. However, just as I was about to buy my plane ticket, my boyfriend sent me a screenshot showing that my balance was zero. He brushed it off casually. “Last time we played Truth or Dare, I lost a wish ticket to your best friend. “She said she wanted to go see the Auroras, and there was a ‘buy two, get one free’ deal on mystery flight tickets. So, I bought two tickets. We’ll just have to visit Teania another time.” I struggled to keep my voice from trembling. “Lennon York, if you go see the auroras, we’re breaking up.” His expression did not change. He just reached up and ruffled my hair. “Don’t be silly. Once I’m in college, I’ll get a part-time job. Then, I’ll definitely take you there during semester break, okay?” I looked downwards and smiled. I messaged my childhood friend, whom I had not spoken to in a year, and typed. [Is that wish slip you promised me still valid?]