Short Romance Stories & Novels

I see an anonymous poll online after Aidan Spencer returns to me and our family. "Does a man feel guiltier to his wife or mistress after cheating?" 99% of the voters chose "mistress". I turn to Aidan. "Do you agree with this?" He puts down his book, a hint of indescribable fatigue in his cool gaze. "I'm already back with you, Lily. What else do you want from me?"

The day I win the cheerleading championship, the entire arena erupts with cheers for my team. But from the stands, my brother, Nelson Locke, hurls a water bottle straight at me. "You injured Felicia's leg before the performance just so you could win first place? She has leukemia, Victoria! Her dying wish is to become a champion. Yet you tripped her before the competition, all for a trophy! You're selfish. I don't have a sister like you!" My fiance, who also happens to be the sponsor of the competition, steps onto the stage with a cold expression and announces, "You tested positive for illegal substances. You don't deserve this title. You're disqualified." All the fans turn against me. They boycott me entirely—some even go so far as to create a fake memorial portrait of me, print it, and send it to my doorstep. I quietly keep the photo. I'll probably need it soon anyway. It's been three years since I was diagnosed with a malignant brain tumor. Knowing I don't have much time left, I choose to become the type of person they always wanted me to be—the perfect sister who loves without question, the well-mannered woman who knows when to keep quiet, and the kind of person who never, ever lies.

Due to one phone call, Carl Lorde left me behind in a deserted area on the highway, even though I had been pregnant for four months. I walked to a rest area to ask for help, but in the end, I was unable to keep the baby. I broke down and called Carl, but he kept rejecting my calls. The next day, his childhood friend posted an intimate photo of them lying side by side in bed, with a caption. [With just one call, you’d come over to my side no matter what.] Everyone was waiting for me, Carl’s girlfriend, to make a joke of myself. However, I just wiped away my tears, liked the post, and commented, [Congratulations, you two are a match made in the trash dump. I hope you rot in hell together.]

On the company's designated monthly day off, Gigi Lott, Donald Hoover's secretary, posted an Instagram story. The caption read, "So what if you're the boss of me when we're at work during the day? At night, I'm the one on top!" In the photo, she was lying atop a water bed covered in rose petals, and the usually stern Donald was kneeling down to massage her feet for her. From his pocket hung a brand new golden necklace. Just that morning, I bought several gold bars and gave them to Donald while beseeching him to make our relationship public. He happily took the locket from me, but when I tried to take a photo of us with our phone, he smacked my phone out of my hands, smashing it into pieces. With a look of pure derision, he declared, "Why don't you take a good look at yourself in the mirror first? You really are a motherless wretch who wasn't raised right. Look at the lengths you'd go to just to ruin me!" Throughout the last five years, I had meekly gone along with his demand that we keep our relationship a secret, claiming it was because office romances were forbidden. But now, I was abruptly hit with the realization of how laughable it all was. The next day, I sent my father a message. "I admit defeat. I'm willing to come home and inherit the family business."

I was about to get married, but my boyfriend of nine years had no idea. Why? All because his recently divorced ex-girlfriend waltzed back into town, and he threw himself into her life without hesitation. The knight in shining armor was back, ready to save the day. The moment they saw each other, it was like a scene from a bad romance novel. Their gazes lingered, sparks flying, the kind that screamed, “Oh, we’re soulmates reunited.” To welcome her back, he had 9,999 Juliet roses flown in to decorate her room. Why? All because it was a promise he had made to her long ago. How sweet. Except for one small problem: I’m severely allergic to pollen. When I woke up in the hospital after an emergency rescue, I didn’t cry, yell, or demand answers. No, I pulled out my phone and texted my parents, "Please help me arrange a marriage. I’m done."

After five miscarriages, I seek out a doctor to ask why I can't carry my babies to term. However, I overhear his conversation with my husband when I'm at the door. "The abortion medication you've prescribed is quite effective—she's already had five miscarriages. When can you do a hysterectomy? I can't let Adrianna have my child. "Oh, and give me something to keep a mother and baby safe. Monica is pregnant with my child; I have to make sure she gives birth to a healthy baby." The doctor says, "Adrianna's health has deteriorated over the years, though. It's highly likely she'll never have children." Reynold Scott scoffs indifferently. "So what? It's precisely because I don't want her to have children that I've been making her miscarry! Look, let's end this here. I need to accompany Monica on a shopping spree for the baby." I feel cold all over when I hear this. It turns out the love I've been defending is nothing but a joke.

After being in love with Dylan for seven years, I planned to propose to him at his birthday party. But then I overheard him speaking to his friend in Italian: "You like Lydia? I'll give her to you. I'm tired of her anyway. Sarah is better—she's a dancer, young and sexy." He thought I couldn’t understand, but he didn’t know that I had learned Italian for him. I threw away the ring I had designed for him, tore apart the wedding suit I had sewn and left. Our friends were all speculating how long it would take before I came back. Dylan sneered with disdain, "She’s just an orphan with no family. Where could she go without me? Three days at most." But to his surprise, I never returned and found a new home.

Three days before my wedding, my younger sister staged a scene—one where I supposedly abandoned her in the mountains. She claimed I locked her in a cabin, left her to be nearly assaulted, and that she barely escaped with her life. Furious, my fiancé dragged me up the mountain and locked me in that same cabin. He said, "Wendy, a woman as vicious as you won't learn her lesson without punishment. I already told you I'd marry you. Why go after Chloe? Since you're so desperate to climb your way up, you can stay here until the wedding day." I begged him, over and over, but my scorched throat could only force out hoarse, grating sounds. Three days later, Mickey O'Brien stood at the altar in his suit, waiting for me. What he got instead was my remains.

I started calling my brother "Mr. Quinn" and my childhood friend "Mr. Webb". They frown and ask why I'm being so formal with them. I smile faintly in response. "Because I think you would rather be associated with Vanessa Quinn." They scold me for being unreasonable. "Vanessa is about to marry a man in a coma for you, and her whole life will be ruined. The only reason we treat her so well is because you owe her." But what they don't know is that the one marrying a man in a coma this time isn't Vanessa. It's me—Willow Quinn.

"Mrs. Sterling, are you sure you're ready to end this marriage of twenty years and give up the custody?" "Yes. File it. I’m done." I said calmly through the phone as I scrubbed at a stubborn grease stain on the granite island. For twenty years, I poured my entire being into this family. I managed the households, handled the children's education , and stood by my husband's side, supporting his rise in the syndicate without complaint. But my husband Alexander brought his young adopted sister Chloe to the interview, saying, "My success today is all thanks to my adopted sister." Even my own children looked down on me, calling me common and crude housewife. They had formed an alliance with his ever-present "auntie," the woman who seemed to think she was the true lady of the house. I signed the divorce papers and walked away, leaving them to become the "perfect family" they clearly wanted. But that when the family panicked…

I'm Sophie Gould, the only daughter of the wealthiest man in Arberton. My mother doesn't like me, though. She treats her niece, Tanya Hall, like her own and allows her to take over my identity. At a banquet where all affluent families are gathered, Tanya takes my seat before I can. Then, she says in a voice loud enough for everyone to hear, "You wouldn't even be here if not for Mom wanting me to show you around so you can expand your horizons, Sophie. "Remember this—you might not be a member of the Gould family, but your actions are linked to us. Don't disgrace us." In the past, I would've stood there with my eyes red, at a loss for what to do. It was too bad I'd been reborn. I smile icily at Tanya and kick her off my throne. "I should've expected this of an impostor. To think an insignificant banquet like this is enough to make you act so obnoxiously! And did you say you're part of the Gould family? You have no idea the sort of trouble you'll be getting yourself into!"

I'm diagnosed with late-stage cancer after undergoing a pre-employment medical checkup. My husband says the medication for my condition is expensive. He also says it can only relieve my pain, not treat the cause. I only have a year to live. Upon my husband's pleading, I agree to do an IVF. I endure the pain and put myself through torture to leave him with a child. However, I overhear him saying the child growing inside me isn't mine—it's his and his lover's. He's the one who wants me dead!

My husband's first love gets engaged. To make her regret it, he abandons me, his newlywed wife, and joins a research project down at the southern tip of the earth. I've made 999 attempts across several years to visit him, with each one ending in failure. After five years, I stopped going. During a lively birthday party, he suddenly shows up. When he sees my slightly bulging belly, he howls in anger. "I spent five years at the research base, and not once did you care about how I was doing! Who's the father of the bastard child you're pregnant with?" "It's none of your business," I calmly reply.

I had been married to Adrian Foster for six years when I finally conceived his child. However, the doctor’s reaction upon hearing Adrian’s name left me frozen. "I clearly recall that Mrs. Foster already gave birth to a son here two years ago. She’s a famous actress, and she and Mr. Foster made the perfect couple." I stared at her in disbelief. "What are you talking about? We’re legally married. We have a certificate!" "There’s no mistake. Mr. Foster is someone notable, and he doted on his wife. He was always by her side." I stormed out of the hospital in anger, but my hope was shattered when the lawyer confirmed that my marriage certificate was a forgery. The world tilted into darkness. My ears rang, my surroundings blurred, and I could no longer hear a thing. At last, I understood. He had never been my husband. He had never once looked forward to the child growing within me. With shaking hands, I dialed my family’s number, and in my heart, I swore that this merciless liar would burn in hell.

I've been with an award-winning actor for seven years. We've been secretly married for five of those seven years. For the sake of his career, I drink so much that I get a stomach perforation. I also allow others to trample over my pride and dignity. Yet he goes on lakeside dates with another woman and kisses her underneath the fireworks. He even has the nerve to tell me not to be unreasonable. Later, I get caught in a landslide when I'm on a business trip. I make one last call to him in fear. All I hear is him singing his lover a birthday song. I ask for a divorce after losing hope in him. That's when he suddenly begs me not to leave. He even announces our relationship to the world on the day he wins an award. Our seven-year relationship is finally public, but I don't want it anymore.

The Shermans are the richest family in town, and both of the Sherman daughters are about to get married on the same day. I, the older of the two sisters, am about to marry Andrew Hammond, a wealthy scion and the man I've loved for many years now. Meanwhile, my younger sister, Celine Sherman, is set to marry the heir of the Wright family. The upcoming wedding fills me with joy and anticipation, but suddenly, Andrew disappears for three whole days. When I go to confront him about it, I end up overhearing a conversation between him and his friends. "On the wedding day in three days, you guys must ensure that the wedding cars are switched, so that it's Celine's car that comes to the Sherman residence instead. "That illegitimate son of the Wright family is a cold, heartless man. I can't let Celine suffer by marrying him!" "Relax," one of his friends replies. "We've made all the arrangements with the drivers and everything. But what about Joanna?" Brimming with confidence, Andrew declares, "The Sherman family has the Wright family's business by the throat, and everyone knows that Joanna is mine. There's no way the Wright family would dare to do anything to her. "When the time comes, I'll send Celine off and bring Joanna back for the wedding ceremony. I'm sure the Wrights won't dare to say a single word." The initial shock leaves me on the verge of a breakdown, but eventually, it morphs into the stillness of despair. In the end, I decide to go along with the plan, letting Andrew and Celine get their happy ending. Thus, when Andrew proceeds with the next part of his plan and arrives to pick me up, all he's greeted with is the sight of my cold dead body.

On my birthday, I personally prepare 16 dishes. After setting up the candlelight, I open a bottle of red wine. I take a photo and send it to my husband, Eric Sinclair. "I'm working late tonight. Don't wait for me," he replies. I choose to believe him. But after midnight, I notice an Instagram story posted by Shirley Huxley, his secretary. Eric was there with her, dressed in the trench coat I once gave him. They sat side by side in the VIP seat of football stadium where my favorite Super Bowl take place. Entwined in a passionate embrace, they kissed beneath a sea of shimmering lights and the roar of thousands of fans. That game is the one I have always longed to experience with him. I look down at the cold food on the table. Eric's words keep ringing in my head. "I hate kissing." "Marriage is a partnership, not about love and kisses." Though we've been married for ten years, we've never shared a single kiss. Meanwhile, he's out there, kissing Shirley openly and passionately. Despite it all, not a single tear falls from my eyes. The next day, Eric settles into his chair, completely unfazed. "Return the gallery to Shelly," he commands. I nod quietly, saying nothing. Suddenly, Layla Sinclair, my daughter, comes running down the stairs and throws herself into Shirley's arms. "Aunt Shirley, you're my favorite. I don't like Mom!" In that instant, it hits me—the home I devoted my heart and soul to means nothing anymore. It doesn't matter that I've been married to Eric for a decade. Now, all I want is to find myself again. I decide to accept an invitation from the Parisoir School of Fashion Design. From this moment on, I won't wait for them to come home, and I won't look back.

Scarlet blood trickled from my thigh as I clutched Arvin Owen's hand. "My belly... It hurts so much..." He shook off my hand indifferently. "Come on, I know it's chicken blood you are using. Debby just suffered abuse from her husband and is now in the hospital without anyone to care for her. Don't be so spoiled!" But what flowed from me was not chicken blood. It was my life slipping away.

The woman Lucas Kingston kept by his side was pregnant. When I found out, I was shocked to realize that she was just as far along as I was. In front of me, she gently caressed her rounded belly before settling herself onto Lucas’s lap. "I heard that Miss Carter’s equestrian skills rival those of men. I’m quite curious and would love to see it for myself. Lucas, could you ask her to give us a demonstration? “If she manages to please me…" She leaned in closer to him, her voice seductive. "Tonight, you can have whatever you want." Lucas’s gaze turned icy as it landed on me. Though he said nothing, everyone present understood his intent. My face drained of color as I pleaded desperately, "Lucas, please don’t do this! I’ll lose the baby!" Laughter rippled through the crowd, while Lucas merely looked at me with disdain. "If you lose it, you can always have another. Now get on the horse! If you can’t entertain her properly, don’t even think about leaving this racetrack tonight!" The moment his words left his mouth, several people grabbed me and forced me onto the saddle. The startled horse reared and took off in a frenzy. Every jolt sent unbearable pain through my abdomen. I glanced back. From the viewing platform, the two of them were already locked in a passionate embrace. Clutching the reins with all my strength, I forced a bitter smile. This was the seventh time. And the last. From that moment on, I would never humiliate myself for anyone again.

On the same day we were registering our marriage, my boyfriend, Levi Salfolk, had someone throw me out of the clerk's office while he led his childhood sweetheart inside. He looked at me nonchalantly. "Rosalie's child can't be illegitimate. I'll marry you once we get divorced." Everyone thought that the lovestruck me would wait for him for another month. After all, I had already waited for him for seven years. However, I went overseas that night, accepting the arranged marriage my family had set up for me and disappearing from his world. Three years later, I accompanied my husband back home to pay our respects to his ancestors. Something came up, and my husband sent someone from the local branch office to pick me up. Unexpectedly, I met Levi, whom I had not seen since I left. "Enough with the fooling around. Come back. Rosalie's child is starting preschool soon. You're in charge of picking up and dropping off the child."