Maikling Kwento at Nobelang Romance

My two childhood friends act like they don't see anything when their assistant locks me in a cold storage. They're filled with regret when I thoroughly vanish.

“Mom, Dan, I received an offer from an overseas university. I plan to take it.” Lucille Shaw’s voice was soft in the silent living room, like a single drop of water rippling across a still pond. Her mother Victoria exclaimed with joy, "Really? Congratulations! When are you planning to go?" “In Ten days.”

At my wedding, a video of my fiancé cheating was exposed. I didn't make a scene; just turned around and walked away, left him to clean up the mess himself. I went back to my room and kissed my younger boyfriend. We were halfway through when we got interrupted. My fiancé stormed in, face red with shame and rage. "Is this really the time? All you can think about is kissing?" I smacked my lips, still savoring the moment. "Weren't you the one who introduced us?"

I run into my fiancé's childhood sweetheart at the entrance of a bar on Valentine's Day. She's been drugged and is unconscious. This time, I pretend not to see her and leave without another look back. I didn't know who she was in my past life and saved her out of kindness. Then, I accidentally saw my fiancé's name tattooed on her collarbone. I thought it was just a misunderstanding until I answered her phone and heard my fiancé's voice on the other end of the line. I hung up out of jealousy and anger. I ignored the 99 calls he gave me. I took his childhood sweetheart to one of my family's hotels and made sure she was well taken care of before leaving. Unexpectedly, she was violated that night. She committed suicide out of shame. My fiancé acted like nothing happened after hearing of this. He proceeded to give me a grand wedding. Then, when I found out I was pregnant, he broke my legs and locked me up at home. I broke down and asked him why he was doing this. He laughed manically. "Averie wouldn't have been violated if not for you. She wouldn't have taken her own life! It's all your fault!" To my surprise, when I open my eyes again, I find myself back to the day I run into Averie Lancaster outside the bar.

After my engagement to Simon Page, he secretly planned a trip abroad with Yara Watson, the woman he had loved for years. The day before their departure, he was chatting with his friends and Yara in the lounge of a golf club. "Simon, you just got engaged, and you're already taking Yara on a trip. Aren't you afraid Rosalyn will find out?" Simon scoffed. "I hired a guy to pose as her suitor. He’ll keep her so occupied that she won’t have time to bother me. "If something really happens between them, even better. I can use it as an excuse to officially end the engagement and be with Yara openly." Standing outside the door, I trembled as his words sank in. Tears streamed down my face as I looked at the handsome man behind me, his expression filled with guilt. "Then let’s grant him his wish and get married." But just as I was preparing for the wedding, Simon suddenly knelt before me in agony. "Rosalyn, I was wrong. Please, don’t marry him!"

Everyone in the social circle of Kingsford said I was nothing more than a lapdog raised by Charles Mankin. I was always at his beck and call. I did every filthy, ludicrous thing for him under the sun. When he street raced, I rode shotgun. When he drank himself senseless, I made him hangover soup. When he chased girls, I prepared protection for them. Over time, everyone knew: Charles had a dog who never ran, never bit back, no matter how hard he kicked. They all said I must be madly in love with him. Even Charles started to believe it. So he pushed further, more freely, more cruelly, crossing lines as if they never existed. Then came my twenty-fifth birthday. He, in a rare stroke of mercy, said he'd celebrate it with me. But instead, what he got was the news that I was leaving the country. He went berserk, charging through the airport like a man possessed. I peeled his fingers off my wrist one by one, smiling like I'd never been happier. "Don't be stupid," I told him, still smiling. "That was never love." That night, Charles smashed apart his family home like a rabid dog.

After my third dive in search of my missing boyfriend, I suffer a miscarriage. When I wake up in the hospital and find out he's still alive, I rip out the IV and drag myself home. But as I approach the house, I overhear Beck Wilder talking to his friends. "Maren had a child with her ex-husband. Who knows if she's really over him? "I can't go through with the wedding without being sure. I'd rather set a trap to see if she'd risk everything for me." Someone hesitates. "What if she finds out you lied? She might get furious and leave you." Beck chuckles confidently. "She's a breeze to manipulate. I'll make her sign the marriage papers and host a lavish wedding. She'll be as meek as a kitten." Two weeks later, I leave the miscarriage report on the wedding dress and walk away. The once-proud heir of the Wilder family is left in tears, scouring every inch of Larkspur in desperate search of his runaway bride.

The day after I returned to my home country, my old classmates ambushed me with an invitation to a reunion. In the hotel, I ran into my ex, Shawn Quinn, whom I hadn't seen in five years. The room froze when he pulled out a ring and proposed. Gasps rippled through the crowd. They all expected me to jump at the chance, given how hard I had chased him back in the day. They forgot the gut-punch of our graduation day. Shawn had sided with another woman, letting her paint me as a plagiarist, a cheater, a bully. The school authorities revoked my diploma and kicked me out of the ceremony. Humiliated, I fled abroad, leaving behind a shattered heart. Now, his best friend told me, "Shawn pulled strings to get your diploma back despite your past mistakes. He never forgot about you. He has been waiting for you all these years. You're his only love."

I made the decision to break up with Layla Freeman as I opened my eyes once more. She wanted to take Charles Jones and his son home so she could take care of them, so I would logically leave. I had a lot of arguments with Layla in my former life because of Charles and his son. She paid for Charles’ son’s wedding using the money I had saved for my retirement. Ultimately, the bitter cold killed me in the winter. When Layla found out about that, she was not filled with sadness. Rather, she accused me of dying on her godson’s wedding day. I would leave her and not have anything to do with her in this life.

I was the stand-in who looked most like my husband's first love. He put me through countless plastic surgeries, both major and minor ones, until I became her exact likeness. But then, she came back from the dead. All it took was her saying, "I don't like anyone looking like me," and he sent me right back to the operating table once more. I begged him, telling him that my body couldn't handle it anymore. Alas, he only looked at me with irritation. "Seeing that cheap imitation of her face just disgusts me," he sneered. "No matter how close you come, you'll never be her." In the end, I died on that operating table. Yet, he went mad, trying desperately to recall what I once looked like.

One night before our engagement, Darren Finch insisted on throwing a singles party aboard a cruise ship. He made it clear I wasn't invited. But in the middle of the night, I got a call saying he'd fallen overboard. Panic overtook me. Feverish and disoriented, I stumbled to the deck and dove into the sea without a second thought. The night waters were icy, sapping the strength from my limbs. As I was pulled back onto the deck, shivering and soaked, I heard laughter ring out from the crowd. Carrie Specter, Darren's childhood sweetheart, stood above me. She gave a soft, lilting laugh. "Seeing how far you're willing to go for Darren... I can finally hand him over to you without worry." At that, Darren wrapped an arm smugly around her waist. "Carrie, you really do know me best." "I told you," she beamed, "Paula would pass your test." I let out a cold laugh, slipped the engagement ring from my finger, and flung it at his face. "No, thanks. I wish you two eternal bliss. Just don't ever drag me into your drama again."

"Gemma, we agreed on ten years. That time is up now. I'd like to leave with Kira." "You know he never liked her," she added quietly. In the quiet of the coffee house, Josie Carr spoke with a bitter expression. She had lived with Graham Holloway for ten years—ten long years, and still, she hadn't managed to thaw his heart. It wasn't love that brought them a child—it was a night of drunken confusion. He'd pushed her onto the bed, dazed and careless, and Kira came from that. Afterward, he gave her a villa and agreed to let her keep the baby. His only condition was simple: the child must never call him father. Publicly, Graham remained a single man. "I will never marry you. Don't hold out hope. "I'll pay child support, but don't expect me to acknowledge her. That child doesn't exist to me."

For eight long years, Bryan Millan and I were married, but you’d never have known it by looking at his life. He never once acknowledged our relationship in public. Not a single post, not a single mention of me on his social media. Then came our anniversary. The day that was supposed to be about us. Instead, Bryan made an announcement on his Instagram account—just not the one I expected. There he was, hand in hand with his assistant, her draped in a wedding dress. The caption read: [When you're in love, you want the whole world to know.] The comments flooded in. [Bryan finally got married!] [Congrats! Wishing you a lifetime of happiness together!] In that moment, I could no longer lie to myself. Bryan wasn't reserved. He just never loved me. So, I decided to let go. But he wasn't ready for that. He clung to me, desperate now. But I pried his hands off and laughed—a real, genuine laugh, the kind that comes from somewhere deep inside when you realize you're finally free. Then, I looked him straight in the eye and said the words I'd been holding in, "Don't beg me to come back. Because now that I don't love you, I've never felt better."

Despite my parents' objections, I stay by Julian Grant's side for ten years. He goes from having nothing to building his own empire. The moment it's time to fulfill our ten-year promise, I proudly tell my parents I'm going to marry him. But then, he gives the vice president position meant for me to another woman. I confront him only to overhear a woman's hesitant voice behind the door. "Mr. Grant... you gave me the VP role, but what about Ms. Jones? Aren't you two getting married?" Julian's tone is cold and sharp, though his face is calm and unaffected. "Noelle's been with me for ten years. Who else would even want her? Relax—she won't dare make a scene." The words hit me like a slap to the face. Without another word, I turn and make a call to my arranged marriage contact. "Are you free?" I ask. "Let's get married."

I've spent the past seven years by Caleb Hale's side, but I don't have a proper identity. He doesn't seem interested in marrying me, either. Later, he has plans to marry the daughter of the White family in a political marriage. They only have one condition—he must throw away the sandalwood bead bracelet he always wears. Caleb doesn't even bat an eye as he says, "It's just a little trinket, and I've grown sick of it." After that, he throws the bracelet into the annex from his balcony. Coincidentally, the annex later catches fire. Everyone is stunned to see me dash inside to retrieve the bracelet without a care for my safety. Subsequently, someone in the online community reveals that I kneeled in the snow outside Highspire Hall to get that bracelet.

With God as her witness, Holly Sullivan had always been a good girl. Taken in by the Hoffman family at a young age, she had spent eighteen years longing for a way to repay Ronald Hoffman's kindness and the life he gave her. However, she could not bring herself to accept the marriage proposal he put forward—not when her heart already belonged, entirely and irreversibly, to Luke Hoffman. On the night of her eighteenth birthday, Luke—drunk and dangerously charming—lured her into bed. From that moment on, it was not just her heart she had given away. She gave him everything.

Zac Jesselton and I grew up together. From the time we were little, we never went more than three days without seeing each other. Ever since I confessed my feelings to him, he started avoiding me. He even went as far as hiring bodyguards to monitor my every move. “If Nancy ever shows up within half a mile, remind me to leave immediately.” That was the sentence he said most often to his bodyguards and friends. I did as he wished and stopped chasing after him. I married someone my parents introduced me to. However, the same man who had once insisted on keeping his distance started clinging to me and refused to leave me alone.

I've loved Jonathan Pickle for half my life. I used my family's resources to help him attain success. However, in the third year of our marriage, he brought his mistress home to stomp all over my pride. That wasn't the worst of it—he even destroyed my family. … I open my eyes to see Jonathan in his university days. Unexpectedly, I'm not the only person who's been given a second chance at life.

During a game of truth or dare, my boyfriend, Ryan Patel, chose to kiss his childhood friend, Michelle Woods, for three minutes to save her from a penalty. When I found out, I was furious. I called him in tears, confronting him about the unbearable intimacy between them. He remained silent for a long time before speaking coldly, "Are you done crying?" Then, he drove Michelle home. I crouched in the rain, watching couples huddle under umbrellas, and from that moment on, I never contacted Ryan again. Three months later, at an auction, I bought a men's wristwatch. When Ryan heard about it, he chuckled. "Forget it. In three days, I'll go and coax her back myself. She just needs a way out." His friends all sent me messages, congratulating me on how well I had him wrapped around my finger. I didn’t reply to any of them. I simply posted a picture in my feed—my newly issued marriage certificate.

The Garcia family's notorious illegitimate son — violent, obsessive, and dangerously unstable — had sent out a public marriage summons. One of us, my sister or I, was to become his bride. My father, with his career in ruins and his influence dwindling, had no choice but to agree. In desperation, I begged my boyfriend Eric Jordan to return home and make our engagement official. He did rush back, travel-worn and anxious — but only to ask for my sister's hand in marriage. Shattered, I demanded to know why. Eric frowned, his voice icy. "You're just a foster daughter of the Lynch family. You've eaten their food, lived under their roof for years. And if it weren't for Willa, you would've frozen to death on the street. Now's your chance to repay her. Don't be ungrateful." I refused to stay silent. He shoved me aside in frustration. "I told you — Willa and I are only pretending. Once she's out of danger and that lunatic forgets about the proposal, we'll divorce. I'll come back for you. However, stop embarrassing yourself like this — it's pathetic." What Eric did not know was… Willa Lynch escaped the marriage. However, I did not. Later, on the day of the wedding, as the bridal car passed the Jordan family estate, I looked out the window — and locked eyes with Eric. His face turned pale as a sheet.