Short Romance Stories & Novels

In my ninth year of being with Tyler Freeman, he flaunts his relationships with other women while I'm only allowed to come and go from his bedroom. He doesn't acknowledge me as his girlfriend, yet he allows his friends to address me as such. I have a name but not an identity. His friends are bored during a private party and want me to perform a strip dance on stage to liven things up. I expect Tyler to at least turn them down on my behalf, but all he does is sip his wine and say, "Go on. You're the owner of this place, aren't you? Aren't clubs supposed to satisfy their patrons' needs? Don't let my friends down!" I look at him emotionlessly. I don't cry or throw a fuss. Instead, I splash a glass of liquor in his face. The following day, I trash the club. Three months later, Tyler finally thinks of calling me. "Where are you? Aren't you gonna get the hell back here? Do you really expect me to beg you to come back? Do you think you're worthy of that?" I pull my newlywed husband to the camera. "Sorry, Mr. Freeman. I'm getting married. You don't need to come, but do get me a wedding gift." Unexpectedly, he threatens to show my husband intimate videos of me when he sees me in a wedding gown.

My husband's childhood sweetheart is gravely ill. She says her only wish is to die in his arms. So, she boldly moves into our marital home. I demand an explanation for this, but my husband only snaps at me. "Why are you holding this against her when she already has one foot in the grave? Can't you be more magnanimous?" I sneer at that. Half a month later, the paparazzi catch me coming and going from Novak Group's heir's villa. My husband demands an explanation with bloodshot eyes. I imitate his previous response. "Why are you holding this against him? Can't you be more magnanimous?"

The day I get engaged, my brother brings home a woman who's my age. He says she's his actual sister and accuses me of stealing her life for the past 20 years. Even my fiancé says she's his rightful wife. I'm kicked out of home. Meanwhile, my brother and fiancé take the true heiress traveling. They even give her the villa they had prepared for me. Half a month later, they suddenly remember it's my birthday. To their dismay, they find that they can't see me anymore—I've joined a secret ten-year project organized by the nation. They're supposed to be happy, but they now regret everything.

"Mrs. Gardner, are you sure you want to hire our team to stage a fire and fake your death in ten days?" Camellia Shaw paused for a moment. Just as she was about to reply to the message, a video call suddenly popped up. "Camellia, look! Andres is spending a fortune on you again!" The video was of an auction in progress. At the front, a man of striking elegance and charm was decisively bidding on several antique collectibles worth hundreds of millions. The crowd was already abuzz with excitement. "Mr. Gardner is so good to his wife! He bought all these antiques just to make her smile!" "$400 million is nothing! I heard Mr. Gardner even built her a private estate and named it Eterna Haven. Just the name alone is proof of how much he loves her." A wealthy businessman nearby sneered. "It's all for show. Who knows what he's really like behind closed doors?" That comment immediately sparked a wave of backlash. Many argued back, talking about how devoted Andres Gardner was to his wife. As she listened to their murmurs, Camellia forced a bitter smile.

When Ethan was at his poorest, he came home drunk after negotiating a deal with a client. He could not even stand straight when he reached home, but he desperately pulled out two pieces of melting chocolate from his pocket. “Honey, for you! Your favorite!” During those endless days of arguments that followed, I always thought back to those two pieces of chocolate. They were the reason I compromised with him, fell pregnant for him, even miscarried for him. It all ended just now, when he forgot to log out of his WhatsApp on his computer. His friend messaged him. [Hey, your wife doesn’t know Anna joined your company yet, does she?] [Back when she was about to leave the country, you searched the whole city for her favorite chocolate, but you still couldn’t convince her to stay. After that, you got dead drunk and cried the entire way home.] [That was when I knew you would never get over her.]

The intern my husband brings home feeds our son hard liquor. My husband merely says I'm making a mountain out of a molehill when he finds out. Ultimately, our son dies. After his death, I leave the country to be with my parents. That's when my husband regrets everything.

Five years after we married, Reuben Slade wants to send me to his superior's bed. The first time, he says, "Lissy, I'll get the project once you have a few drinks with him." The second time, he says, "Sleep with him just once, Lissy. I'll be free of debt once you do." He guarantees it won't happen again, but he goes back on his word. "Maybe you should give him a child, Lissy. He'll promote me to general manager once you do." The day Reuben is promoted to general manager, I divorce him and marry his superior.

A medical report shows me my husband's true colors. I've been diagnosed with late-stage stomach cancer. Yet, my husband gives our life savings to someone else. I lunge at him to take my anger out on him, but he shoves me to the floor. "Lillian needs the money to open up a shop, you madwoman! So what if I've given her the money? "You have late-stage stomach cancer, so it's the end of the line for you! Why are you trying to compete with someone who has a long life ahead when you already have one foot in the grave? You can't expect Mom and I to lose everything because of you, right?" I sit dazedly on the floor. I've never found him more unfamiliar. After that, I sneak all my wedding gifts out, wanting to sell them for money. However, I'm told they're all fakes. My husband sneers. "I'm glad I had the foresight to switch them out for the real deal. You would've taken all the money if not for that!" Later, the hospital called to say there was an issue with their system. The names on the medical reports were wrongly indicated. I ask my husband, "Why are you competing with someone who has a long life ahead when you already have one foot in the grave?"

My girlfriend called me frantically out of the blue, saying her mother's water had broken. She begged me to take them to the hospital. But I lazily hung up the phone and turned away, buying myself an ice cream bar instead. In my previous life, her mother had also gone into labor late in life. I had risked everything to rush her to the hospital, running twelve red lights, pushing my car to the limit until the fuel gauge nearly burst. Yet, despite all that, her mother had lost the baby. Worse still, she turned around and accused me of killing the baby. My girlfriend had hated me for it, blaming me for her mother's inability to have children again. That very night, she and her shameless relatives took over my family's house, forcing my parents into such anger and despair that they ended up in the hospital. My company went bankrupt, and as if that weren't enough, I was beaten so severely that both my legs were broken. In the end, I fell into a deep depression and took my own life. But when I opened my eyes again, I found myself reborn. This time, I uncovered the secret her mother had been hiding.

My name is Dakota Wetherby. On the very day my husband, Theodore Aldridge, and I get legally married, he brings his ex-girlfriend, Sofia Moretti, into our home. "Sofia recently suffered a miscarriage, so she's going through a very difficult time. I'm genuinely worried about her," he says. "We're just friends. It's only natural for friends to comfort each other," he adds. Sofia is Theodore's college sweetheart. Rumor has it they separated on good terms when she went abroad for further studies. Clad in Theodore's jacket, she curls up on our bed. Her pale, ashen face is streaked with tears. "I'm so sorry, Dakota. I had no idea you two were getting married today. "I was too upset and didn't know who else to reach out to, so I called Theo. "He was only comforting me because I lost my child. It's completely my fault for overstepping and ruining your wedding day. "You can ask for whatever compensation you want. Just please don't blame Theo for this." I hold the freshly issued marriage certificate from the courthouse and walk up to her. "Since you've brought it up, I suppose I'll reluctantly accept your compensation. "Theodore and I are married for business reasons, with billions in projects hanging in the balance. "Tell me, how exactly do you plan to make up for all of that?"

After Nathan Seville stands me up for the seventh time we're supposed to register our marriage, I finally cut all ties with him—completely and on my own terms. If he shows up at a gathering, I don't go. If he's invited to perform at the college anniversary, I leave early. The moment my company decides to work with him, I resign on the spot. Even on Christmas Eve, when he shows up at my house with gifts, I make up an excuse about needing to visit someone. Calls? Blocked. Socials? Deleted. My strategy is simple—cut it all off. I don't reach out, and he has no way of finding me. For the first 30 years of my life, I spent most of it loving him with everything I had. I cared for him, supported him, and waited for him. But after being left hanging for the seventh time at the City Hall, I finally wake up. I don't want to live like this anymore. Even if I end up alone, it's still better than spending night after night waiting in an empty house that never feels like home!

On Valentine's Day, my husband Ethan Scott’s assistant, Taylor Winston, gifted me 360 used condoms. She leaned close to my ear and whispered that this was Ethan’s favorite brand. Then, in front of everyone, she teased, "Valentine's Day calls for some explosive fun. I hope you don't mind, Claire." Disgust churned in my stomach, and I couldn’t hold back—I vomited on the spot. Embarrassed that I had humiliated him, Ethan snapped, "It was just a joke. Why are you making such a big deal out of it?" Three months pregnant, I was so enraged that a patch of red stained my pants. I begged him to take me to the hospital. But Taylor chimed in, "It's just her physiological reaction." Furious, Ethan heartlessly locked me in the car. He spent three carefree days with Taylor before finally remembering me. But when he saw me again, the usually composed CEO of Scott Enterprise completely lost his mind.

After four years with Killian, I got pregnant. I took the pregnancy test and my ID to a private hospital to set up a file, but when entering insurance information, I was stopped by the blonde administrative specialist. "Mrs. Smith, the system shows there is a problem with your marital status." She looked at me awkwardly. "Your marriage to Mr. Killian is not legally effective." I was stunned and instinctively retorted, "That's impossible. We registered in Las Vegas, all the procedures were..." "There is only an application record, no final signed effective document." The specialist turned the screen around and tapped the keyboard a few times. "Moreover, Mr. Killian's legal wife... shows another lady's name." That name was like a thorn, piercing fiercely into my retina. Elena. Killian's personal secretary, and also publicly recognized as the benefactor who saved his life in the Alps avalanche five years ago. I felt all the blood in my body flowing backward. How could it be her?

Joel Gleason, my childhood sweetheart and fiancé, promised he'd marry no one but me. But then, to help Jenny Swisher, my adoptive sister, get through her depression, he secretly married her. I didn't hesitate for a second before agreeing to marry Conrad Lennon, Jasselton's most untouchable heir, who'd been in love with me for years. After seven years of marriage, he still spoiled me rotten. He clung to me every night like he couldn't get enough. And there was nothing he wouldn't do for me. I really thought I'd found happiness at last. But one day, after we'd slept together, I heard him talking to his best friend. "Jenny's an international best actress now. When are you dumping Jean?" "It doesn't matter. I wouldn't end up with the person I love either way. Besides, I have to keep an eye on Jean. I can't let her ruin all the happiness Jenny worked so hard for." I booted up the computer in Conrad's study and stumbled upon a hidden folder. Inside were over 100,000 photos of Jenny, plus 100 unsent love letters. I'd been fooling myself long enough. It was time to wake up. I got myself a fake body and got ready to start a fire. That was it. Conrad and I were done for good.

Running late for work, I had no choice but to call an Uber. As luck would have it, my boss turned out to be my Uber driver. We stared at each other awkwardly. He raised an eyebrow and asked, "Let me guess... running late?" Me: ... Later, he docked my pay. I gave him a one-star review.

I was diagnosed with stomach cancer, so I went online to hire an undertaker in the hopes that he would collect my body. That way, I could die and be buried. I would like to finally be at peace, even if it meant that I could only achieve it after death. I packed up my bags and left home in search of a place to die, only to receive a message from my undertaker. [Sorry, something came up. I can’t come now.] …Excuse me? I’m already half-dead, and you’re blowing me off?

My father was the CEO of a major corporation, and I was his illegitimate daughter—the one no one was supposed to know about. Growing up, I was the child nobody cared for. My father didn’t love me, and my mother wasn’t much better. From a young age, it was just me and my little brother looking out for each other. When I got into college, my father’s family decided to take my brother in. However, only a few days later, I received the news that my brother was dead.  I knew, deep down, that his death wasn’t just some accident. From that moment on, I worked even harder, determined to succeed. When I finally returned, I had a special gift prepared for my father’s family. This one’s for my brother!

My best friend's brother and I have been dating for half a year, and she has no clue. My best friend drags me out on Christmas for a singles' night out. Unexpectedly, we see her brother, Chris Lambert, holding hands and kissing a girl under the fireworks. "Damn, Chris finally got the school belle!" She looks thrilled and pulls me forward to say hi. Chris awkwardly rubs his nose and introduces me to his girlfriend, "This is my sister, and the one beside her is… sort of like my sister too." I smile silently. We have held hands and kissed, yet now, I am just sort of like his sister.

After my family went bankrupt, I begged my fiancé Ryan to pump cash into our business. He didn't just refuse. He turned around and got engaged to someone else. When I was at the end of my rope, Ethan Brooks stepped up, tossing all his savings into my family's mess. Sadly, we missed our shot, and our company crashed. My parents couldn't handle it. They jumped off a building. Even so, I was thankful to Ethan and married him to pay him back. Three years later, at Lily Carter's birthday party, I overheard her talking to him. "You tanked the Harper family so I could win that bid. Won't Kelly blame you?" "For you, I'd give up everything. I'll just make it up to her." My blood ran cold as I realized our marriage was all a lie. The one he loved was Lily all along. I turned and left. If he was that hooked, I'd set him free.

“Camille, I’ll love you forever!” Jameson let out a low, agonized growl. Just as he was about to climax, his phone suddenly began to buzz. He ignored it, of course. Now was hardly the time. However, his phone lit up again. The moment he saw the text on the screen, his body froze. Camille heard him answer the call. “Hello?” In the deep silence of the night, the voice on the phone cut through the stillness, clear and unmistakable. “Jameson, did you know that Sylvia—” Jameson switched languages and cut in with a sharp command, “Keep it down. It's not a good time.” The other person switched languages too, though he was still loud. “The hospital results came in. Sylvia is in the final stages of cancer. She only has a month left! Her last wish is to become your wife. Can you grant her that before she passes?” Jameson’s expression changed immediately. “What?! Wait for me!” He ended the call and turned to Camille. “Camille, something urgent came up. I need to step out for a bit. Be good and stay home. I’ll be back after you’ve had some sleep.” Before she could respond, he rose to wash up, changed his clothes, and left without looking back. Moments later, her phone buzzed. Sylvia: [Camille, you lost. I told you—Jameson has always been mine.] Right above it was a message from three days ago: [If I tell him I have cancer, do you think Jameson will leave you and come to me? I bet he will.] Camille’s gaze slowly shifted from her phone screen to the open bedroom door. What Jameson did not know was that she had already picked up a new language. She understood every word of that call. After a long moment, a faint, bitter smile appeared on her face. “Yeah, I lost...”