Pendek Romance Cerita & Novel

Our seventh wedding anniversary. I sat at the dining table—alone. My phone buzzed, lighting up with two messages. First, from Tom: [Working late at the office tonight.] Second, anonymous: [Tom is incredible. Can you even keep up?] Attached was a picture of him, lips locked with a woman I didn't recognize. I blew out the candles on the anniversary cake. Eyes shut, I typed back: [Let's divorce.]

I had taken leave from the sealed research institute where I'd been confined for six years, just so I could attend my daughter's kindergarten graduation. The moment I stepped through the gates, I froze. A woman holding a little boy by the hand was shoving my daughter, Amy, straight into the gutter. She slapped Amy across the face, then sneered for everyone to hear, spitting venom as she called my little girl a filthy wretch. Drenched in filthy water, Amy dropped to her knees before the woman, trembling in humiliation. Rage burned through me. I stormed forward and slapped the woman across the face. But instead of shame, she jabbed a finger at my nose and shouted, "Do you even know who I am? To offend me is to offend the entire Grant family!" Tears welled in Amy's eyes as she tugged at my sleeve, pleading in a choked voice, "Please leave… she's my dad's nanny. My dad will punish you if you hurt her." The woman planted herself in front of me, her arrogance towering. "The Grant family rules this city. You think you can run from us?" For a brief moment, I stood stunned, then calmly pulled out my phone and dialed my husband. "Your nanny says you run Bexley City. Well, I think that's about to change."

My four-year-old son dies after someone crashes into him with a motorcycle. The culprit is a college freshman who's just been admitted. I'm devastated, but my husband generously forgives her. "We have to give her a chance since she's such an outstanding student. She's still young—we can't ruin her future." Ha. She has plenty of opportunities and a bright future ahead of her. What about my son? He was only four. Later, I rip his letter of forgiveness to pieces before his face. He wants me to forgive the young lady? No way in hell!

The medication I kept at the company had been switched, resulting in me suffering from acute kidney failure. After the emergency surgery, I asked my wife, Rebecca Little, to thoroughly investigate the company's employees. Instead, I discovered she had already deleted the surveillance footage from that day. When I confronted her, she brushed me off coldly. "I found the person responsible. He wanted to turn himself in, but I stopped him. Look, you're fine now, aren't you? Hendrix didn't do it on purpose. He's so young—if he went to jail, his life would be ruined. Let's just drop the matter, okay?" The person she was defending was none other than the male secretary, Hendrix Cannon, she had been flirting with lately. I was speechless. Nine years of love and trust disintegrated in an instant.

Everyone knew Peter was crazy about me. But five years into our marriage, he knocked up his mentor's daughter. Crying, Cindy grabbed his hand. "I won't let Yuna know." Peter just stared her down. "You'd better not. I'm only helping you because I owe your dad. Don't get any bright ideas." She had the baby on my birthday. Peter looked at the kid like he was already in love. Then Cindy, all smug, texted me: [Ms. Zander, don't you think my baby deserves a dad with a real title?] I signed the divorce papers and caught a flight to Hampsburg.

After a sudden, brutal breakup, I unexpectedly ran into Pierce Donovan at a hotel—with another woman in his arms. He coldly told me he wasn’t interested in my body. But that all changed when I knocked on his door late at night, wearing something a little more daring. Before I could react, he pulled me into his arms, his voice low and commanding, "Don’t cover yourself. I want to have a good look at you."

Two months into my cold war with Sean, the lover he’d been keeping finally danced her way right up to me, the real deal. Everyone expected me to react the same way I always had before, kicking up a huge scene to stake my claim. Instead, I looked at the intimate photos of Sean and her in the group chat, smiled, and sent them my blessing. [Looking good. Wishing you two a long and happy life.] The chat went dead silent. Sean must’ve sobered up from his little paradise because in the middle of the night, he drove home and pounded on my door. He was furious. “Do you think this is funny?” However, I only met his gaze calmly. “Honestly, after all these years, none of it is.”

I endured hundreds of injections just to give Stanley Brighton a child. He was moved to tears and held me, promising that even if we couldn't have children, he would love only me. I diligently followed the doctor's advice and underwent treatment. The day I confirmed my pregnancy, I was so excited that I wanted to rush home and share the good news with Stanley. But what awaited me was unimaginable. Stanley and the female tenant we shared the apartment with were lying naked together in the bathroom, sharing an intimate bath. He was behind her, holding her close, his lips incessantly biting at her earlobes. "I'll give you as many children as you want! Ten, eight—whatever it takes! Just divorce her!" "Alright, just give me some time. I'll divorce her for sure!" Hearing their whispered entanglement, I turned away, stepping into the rain, determined to leave. I would disappear to a place where Stanley could never find me, not in this lifetime.

I was a sketch artist acting for the police. On a secret mission, I was discovered by a murderer. My eyes were gouged out, and my body was dismembered, unceremoniously dumped in a garbage bin. On the brink of death, I called my boyfriend, a criminal investigator. However, he hung up on me because he was busy accompanying his first love to a prenatal checkup. A few days later, he received a painting that was a vital clue to finding the murderer, but he thought I was playing tricks on him. In his anger, he tore that portrait to shreds. After he found out the truth, he spent the whole night searching through the garbage to piece it back together.

Despite Chuck Garrison cheating on me seven times, I forgive him. He willingly hurts me for his first love, Rebecca Kerry, even though we've been married for seven years. In the second year of his openly pursuing me, Chuck takes the blow in my stead when a robber tries to stab me. I then promise him that no matter what he does, I'll forgive him up to seven times. I don't expect his passionate love to change immediately after we get married. The first time happens on our wedding anniversary. Chuck lies to me, telling me that he has a meeting to attend. In reality, he goes to pick up Rebecca, who has just returned to the country. The second time happens when Rebecca lies about being sick. Chuck doesn't hesitate for even a second and leaves, even though he's celebrating my birthday with me. The third time happens when Chuck hires Rebecca as his assistant. I stumble upon them hugging and kissing each other when I turn the corner. The sixth time happens when I'm pregnant. An unexpected issue occurs, but Chuck is accompanying Rebecca, so there's no one to take care of me. In the end, I suffered a miscarriage. I spend countless nights crying alone after being neglected. I force myself to endure everything because of the promise I made. Out of the seven chances I promised Chuck, there is only one chance left. This time, Chuck orders me to transfer ownership of my company, Starlight Group, to Rebecca. I say nothing as I sign the acquisition contract, hiding a divorce agreement among the documents before handing the stack of papers to him. This is the last time, Chuck. We will not be seeing each other anymore.

My husband had lost interest in me for many years. My son's classmate taught me how to flirt with my husband. However, when he was doing so, he placed a hand on my butt and said, "Open up, Mrs. Jackson!"

I had been married for seven years. My husband's nemesis kidnapped me and threatened my husband that they would kill me, yet he ignored it because his sweetheart had asked him to use this opportunity to subdue me and teach me a lesson so that I would give away my assets. The moment I escaped that hellhole, I asked my husband for a divorce, but he claimed his sweetheart tricked him and knelt before me to beg me not to leave.

My best friend was a "mistress breakup consultant". I had lent her money to start her business, and her very first job turned out to be breaking up my own marriage. "Jessie, what's the point of a loveless marriage? You've wasted Harold's time for five years. Are you really going to keep clinging to him and making him miserable for the rest of his life?" my best friend asked. I laughed at the self-righteous nonsense she was spouting and had security escort her out. She came right back, though, this time with a so-called "Anti-Mistress Alliance", live-streaming the chaos as they broke into my company. "The one who isn't loved is the real intruder!" "Fight for love at all costs!" They chanted while smashing up my office. I watched them calmly, waiting until they wore themselves out before pulling out a contract. "The 100,000 dollars you borrowed from me has been overdue for six months. If you don't repay it soon, I'll be forced to take legal action. "And, the lab equipment you've destroyed is valued at 5,550,000 dollars. You'll need to compensate me at full price. "Otherwise, I'll see you in court."

After three miscarriages for Xavier Lowe, I see it—my mother-in-law has three years left, my father-in-law nine years, and my sister-in-law two years. I say nothing. After the third miscarriage, my mother-in-law blames me, calling me a curse who "kills" children. My sister-in-law sneers, saying she almost died in a car crash the year I married Xavier—as if my bad luck dragged her down. My mother-in-law snaps, "She can't even keep a child. It must be because she's cursed!" Xavier just stands there, silent. He doesn't say a single word for me. I know that, deep down, he believes that I bring bad luck. Maybe it's also because he already has someone else—his secretary, Yvette Snyder. His mother has always liked her better, and he clung to her the night I lost my third child. I don't explain because I know the truth will only destroy them faster. On my 28th birthday, I catch a glimpse of my own countdown in the mirror. On that day, I take a leave of absence. I go to the funeral home and pick out an urn—pure white, just like the wedding dress I once wore. Wearing a beautiful floral dress, I text Xavier, asking him to meet me at the lake where we first met ten years ago. I wait from daylight until nightfall as my countdown ticks to zero. I die, and he never shows up.

I was on a business trip out of town when I got a text from my neighbor. [Can you and your husband keep it down? Also, one of your undies fell onto my balcony.] Shocked, I opened the photo she had sent. The underwear wasn't even my style, but it matched the one I'd seen in my husband's online shopping cart. He'd told me it was a gift for me, but I remember noticing the size—it was one size larger than mine. When confronted with the neighbor's message, my husband swore that the house must've been broken into and claimed the intruder left the item behind. But something about his story didn't sit right, so I decided to dig further. That was when I stumbled upon his social media. His latest post was just three words. [I bought this.] It was paired with a photo of a lingerie gift set. Beneath it, there was a comment. [I'm wearing it.] Attached was a picture of a woman's legs—and the unmistakable background of my living room. The evidence was undeniable. I packed up the underwear and brought it straight to the police. "My husband says our house was broken into. This was left behind by the intruder, and it might have DNA on it."

Anya Sawyer and I have been married for eight years. In that time, she brought 99 men back home. One day, I found myself looking at the 100th young man she had brought home ever since we got married. He shot me a taunting look before turning to Anya. "Ms. Sawyer, is this your useless husband?" Anya leaned into her seat and replied with a lazy yes. The young man patted my cheek with a grin. "Tonight, I'll show you what a proper man is capable of." … That evening, I was forced to sit in the living room and listen to their moans all night long. The next morning, Anya ordered me to prepare breakfast for her as usual. I refused. She seemed to have forgotten our marriage was by contract. That day just so happened to be the third-to-last day of our contract.

William Graham and Jasmine Spencer had been at odds since they were kids. But that year, fate played a trick on them—out of all the eligible matches in their circle, only the two of them were left. William swore he would rather die than marry Jasmine. That piqued her interest. She said, "Great. Then I guess I'm definitely marrying you. Go ahead and drop dead." On their wedding day, William humiliated her by releasing dozens of chickens at the ceremony. With a flat look, Jasmine picked one up and called it "Darling". Just like that, William lost all interest in the joke. He looked at the woman who insisted on marrying him and sneered. "You'll regret this." Three years into the marriage, Jasmine caught William cheating for the ninety-ninth time. It was only then that she finally understood— So this was the kind of regret William had meant.

The two brothers who were supposed to be in a marriage alliance with me fell in love with my adopted sister instead. They tricked me into shaving my hair just to cheer her up and locked me in a skiing cabin for an entire night. I tolerated their actions because of my parents' instructions. However, when my adopted sister accidentally slit her finger while cutting up some fruits, they forced me to the hospital to extract 2000 ml of blood. I cried and begged for mercy, but they said that I deserved to be punished for bullying my adopted sister. I gave up on them and turned to get into their older brother's car. The two men who had constantly been talking about canceling the wedding ended up crying in regret at my wedding.

My husband, Hank, is dead.  On our wedding anniversary, he ventured out in the pouring rain to buy me a cake, only to be hit by a truck. His body was badly mangled in the crash.  My sister-in-law, Lyra, called me a killer, claiming that I did not deserve Hank’s inheritance.  My mother-in-law, Judy, kicked me out of the house.  Overwhelmed by grief and guilt, I often wondered if he would still be alive had I stopped him that day. Eventually, emotions gripped me, and I was diagnosed with cancer.  Judy came to visit me on my deathbed. “You’re an idiot to believe everything!”  She threw a family photo in my face.  The shock and anger were more than I could handle, and I breathed my last.  It turned out that Hank was never dead. He had a child with his old flame.  When I opened my eyes once more, I returned to the day my husband faked his death.

Isaac Chance and Madeline Snow were once the model couple of Shorestone City and the target of everyone's envy. After getting engaged, everyone thought they would soon walk down the aisle together. However, there is no news of a wedding for six years. In the end, all Madeline gets is the news of Isaac returning to the country with another woman by his side. He doesn't hesitate to hurt her countless times for the woman's sake. When her grandmother is on the brink of death after an illness, Madeline has no choice but to get into a shotgun marriage. After leaving city hall with her marriage certificate, she ponders the situation. It turns out getting married is simple… as long as her husband isn't Isaac.