Short Romance Stories & Novels

Whenever Rachel Cooper loses it, I know I'm about to get divorced again. I close my eyes. "We are divorcing for the ninth time." Marcus Miller massages his temples and says regretfully, "Vivian, Barry died all of a sudden, leaving his wife and her unborn baby behind. I can't ignore them. Relax. Once the baby's born, we'll remarry. We won't separate ever again!" I remain silent. I already heard this promise eight times before. Barry Miller's sudden death is the reason for Rachel's breakdown. It also caused Marcus and me to divorce for the first time. Back then, Rachel was already pregnant, prompting Marcus to divorce me. He will remarry me once he has comforted her. Over the past nine months, we have married and divorced eight times. Everyone mocks me by calling me the Eight-Ring Wonder. I also find it ridiculous. After I accept the divorce certificate, one of the court staff secretly asks me, "When are you getting married again?" I answer calmly, "There's no next time."

My sister accompanies me when I go for my premarital medical checkup. When I'm preparing a urine test, I hear embarrassing sounds coming from the cubicle next door. I'm about to leave when I hear the conversation. "Keep it in you, Willow. We're doing this again if it slips out." The voice belongs to my fiancé, Zachary Hilton. The woman to whom he's speaking is Willow Langley, my sister. I dial his number hysterically to see whether it really is him, but my calls go unanswered. All I hear is the incessant ringing of a phone next door and moans alongside it. I'm rooted to the spot, too stunned to do anything. Zachary once vowed to love me for life, yet he's doing something like this with Willow prior to our wedding. The moans and pants next door take a long time to subside. Once I hear them leave, I call home, my face wet with tears. "Mom, change my husband-to-be to Thomas Hilton, Zachary's youngest uncle. I don't want to have anything to do with Zachary anymore."

It's my first time going on a trip with my boyfriend. I overhear him on the phone with his friend as they discuss how he's going to deflower me. "Grayson, you should be able to have your way with Summer this time, right?" "Don't even talk about that. She's so conservative—I've said and done everything, yet she refuses to budge!" I lower my hand instead of knocking on the door. I stand outside the room and listen as he continues. "Come off it. We've given you so many ideas in the group chat, haven't we? Have none of them worked? And didn't you guys get a room yesterday? You should've just brought sedatives. Think about how easy it would've been if you could've just knocked her out!" Grayson Hale snaps, "I forgot, alright? Besides, who would've known there'd be two beds in the room? She insisted on sleeping separately, too. I sneaked onto her bed in the middle of the night when I saw she was asleep. She woke up just as I was about to take off her clothes and kicked me off!" My blood runs cold. My hands tremble as I reply to my boss' message. "I accept headquarter's decision to transfer me."

My fiancé’s pampered niece, Jenna Quinn, had just returned from abroad. The moment she got back, she caused a scene at our engagement party, throwing out so-called “evidence” of my alleged affair in front of the media. Zac Quinn had no choice but to leave me with the mess, clutching his hysterical niece as they left. His parting words? “This is just an engagement party. Jenna’s well-being is far more important.” After I painstakingly managed to control the public narrative and was waiting for Jenna to make a public clarification to settle the matter, she instead curled up in Zac’s arms, crying softly. Zac’s expression turned cold. “Jenna only has me, while you have so many people who love you. Why must you target her?” At first, I thought Zac was just being overly protective of his niece, who had lost her parents at a young age—until I saw the two of them kissing. “You’re the precious girl I’ve raised with my own hands. From now on, Nina will be your aunt, and she’ll shower you with love, too,” he said. I clenched the ultrasound report in my hand and, without hesitation, tossed it into the trash. Love that can’t be held onto isn’t worth keeping. I decided to return home, accept my family’s marriage alliance, and fully embrace my role as the heiress of the Walker Corporation.

Mom dies of rage when she discovers that the bride at my wedding has become Nelly Johnson, Harvey Fisher's business partner. My wedding turns into Mom's funeral the moment she breathes her last breath. Despite that, Harvey insists that the ceremony continue as planned. He even orders me to put the wedding ring on Nelly's finger. "Hurry up and put it on! I'll explain everything to you tonight!" he snarls. I ignore him and leave the hotel with Mom's body in my arms. The wedding ends with a banging success at 8:00 pm. Nelly updated her social media with a post that's liked by tens of thousands of people. "I've finally married the light of my life! I'd like to thank a certain homewrecker for leaving after remembering her place." Harvey updates his social media with a similar post. "Those who are unworthy don't deserve to be loved." I like both their posts in the ice-cold morgue. I comment, "I wish you two a lifetime of happiness." Then, I head home with Mom's ashes. When I enter the house, I see Harvey holding Nelly tightly while making out with her.

I've been married for eight years, but my husband won't let our daughter call him "Dad" because his childhood sweetheart's son struggles with severe depression. After he missed our daughter's parent-teacher meeting again because he was with Susan Lawson and her son, I decided to leave. I prepare the divorce papers and decide to leave with my daughter. I go to her school and find her homeroom teacher, Laura Anderson. "Ms. Anderson, I'd like to apply for a school transfer." She looks surprised. "Why the sudden decision to transfer?" I reply calmly, "Her dad has been working out of town, but he's finally settled down and wants us to move there." Laura sighs. "Well, that's not bad. I always thought you were a single mom." I smile. I'm not, for now. But I'll be one very soon.

He almost never texts me first, and in person he barely says a word. In three years together, he's never remembered a single anniversary, and he's never once suggested we celebrate a holiday. But the second I message him first, he lights up, all "baby" this and "baby" that, fussing over me, coaxing me to sleep. Sometimes I'd get this strange feeling that there were two different Noahs. His explanation was that he was just bad with words face-to-face, and that texting or voice notes felt like less pressure. I kept telling myself that being together meant meeting each other halfway. He was quiet and reserved, so I'd be the one to reach out. He forgot anniversaries, so I booked the restaurant and reminded him to keep the night free. He had no time to schedule our engagement shoot, so I handled the whole thing with the studio myself. He was too busy with work to help us move, so I packed everything alone, booked the movers, and got it all done. When I was so worn out I was about to break, I'd send him a voice note, and he'd say, "I'm so sorry, baby. The lab was insane today. I couldn't be there for you, and it kills me to watch you run yourself into the ground." Hearing how guilty he sounded, all my hurt just melted away. And that's how I carried three years of this relationship on my own, running on the flawless tenderness he only ever gave me online. Until today, when I found a program on his laptop called Boyfriend Assistant. It analyzed every message I sent and generated the perfect reply, the perfect response, every single time. Cold snap? It sent: Bundle up, baby. Time of the month? It pinged an API and auto-ordered hot chocolate to my door. All those late nights he spent "working," the gentle voice notes that lulled me to sleep, every one of them was synthesized in Noah's voice. For three years, the person who'd been there for me, day and night, was never Noah at all. For three years, I'd been performing a one-woman show.

On New Year's Eve, my husband, Max Davis, took me to a private dinner hosted by a big industry player. We had barely made our way around the room when a strange woman suddenly shoved me into the pool. When I insisted on checking the surveillance footage and calling the police, Max firmly held me back. He warned me to "remember my place" and not embarrass him in front of everyone. In the brief time I changed into another gown, I returned to find that same woman perched on my husband's lap, her red lipstick leaving traces on his collar. "Max, you're right! That nasty scar on her stomach really does look like a centipede. It's so hideous!" She giggled with mock innocence, adding, "It's been so fun messing with your wife. Next time, can I slap her when no one's looking?" Meanwhile, Max gazed at her like she was the only woman in the world, gently tracing his finger over her nose. "Of course, you can," he replied, eyes still locked on hers. "I'll even tie her hands behind her back for you."

On the day Shane Jackson and I registered our marriage, his infatuated secretary pushed me off a building. I fractured two ribs, lost my baby instantly, and slipped into a coma. Shane stayed by my side and told everyone I was his only wife, never leaving my bedside. But when no one was watching, he pressed that secretary against the hospital bed and murmured, "If it weren't for you, Lily and I would already have a three-year-old child. You owe us a baby. This is what you must repay her." Joanna Rogers trembled in his arms, eyes full of tears. "I'm sorry, Mr. Jackson. I loved you too much. I'll accept whatever punishment you give me." A moment later, I heard their heavy breathing. My eyes, which had been shut for three years, suddenly opened. Tears rolled down my cheeks.

The night before our wedding, Edward Fowler's friends gather for a celebration. A full set of sex toys lies in the gift box from his tomboy bestie, Winnie Spencer. I freeze, and Winnie shouts boisterously, "Don't you dare go easy on him, Sarah. That pup might look like someone who's abstaining, but he's actually pretty wild in the sheets. "During the start of the year, he only used three of these, yet he landed me straight in the hospital with injuries that took me half a month to heal!" She then hooks an arm around Edward's neck. "Let me give you a piece of advice as your buddy—you need to learn how to be gentle once you're married. "Sarah looks so delicate, so you'd better not pull the same stunt as last time. I was just recovering, yet you dragged me into it for two whole days. I almost died in bed!" My face darkens. Winnie covers her mouth in exaggerated shock. "It's just us buddies messing around. You're not mad, are you, Sarah?" Everyone is anticipating for me to snap. But instead, I let out a soft chuckle before replying, "Why would I be? I should be thanking you for being a free tutor instead. After all, someone who's in your line of work would charge at least three hundred dollars per night just for the same lesson."

My boyfriend, Yves Steward, is the head of the orthopedic department. When Julia Henderson and I get into an accident at the same time, he pushes my hands away and shouts, "Stop this nonsense, Summer Simpson! Julia needs to be operated on immediately!" So, I'm the one who deserves to die. The day my skeleton is donated to the orthopedic department, Yves sits in his office for a day and night. Later, the man known as the hospital's genius orthopedist never holds a scalpel ever again.

On our fifth anniversary, Henry Judd—the guy who once swore he'd propose—rented out an entire mall for Cecilia Cheape's birthday. A diamond the size of a pigeon's egg sparkled on her finger. I'd been dumb enough to think it was meant for me. "Cece, I'm gonna give you a birthday you'll never forget," he announced, loud enough for the whole world to hear. Then he yanked the tab off a soda can and handed it to me. "Lulu, those gaudy things don't suit you. You deserve something unique." He slid the can tab onto my finger—his version of a proposal. Cecilia got the dream birthday. I got a piece of trash and a slap of reality. Later, when he found out I was marrying someone else, he got down on one knee with that same ring and begged me to say yes.

It was midnight, and I was out at my stall when the cops took me to the station. They checked my profile and looked at me weirdly. "You're a Greatpeak graduate. What are you doing setting up shop in a bazaar?" That was odd. I went through the profile and realized that yes, while the student's ID was mine, the photo was not. I knew the guy in the photo. Josiah Ferguson. I had no idea I got accepted into Greatpeak University twenty years ago. Eventually, I was released, but I had no idea how I trudged back home. Then, I heard Hazel Quinley, my wife, talking to someone on the phone. "I won't let Michael get in your way, Josiah. Just go abroad." So that's it! It was her! My wife helped Josiah take what was supposed to be mine! I was sick. I wanted to throw up. I wanted to confront her and Josiah, but then she stabbed me in the back, and I died. "I'm sorry, Michael. I can't let you ruin Josiah's future." And then I woke up. I was taken back in time to my high school days. Our homeroom was giving out college application forms. This time, things would be different. This time, I would take back what was rightfully mine!

All because I opened a window to air out the room, my husband’s childhood sweetheart, Celine Ashcroft, caught a cold. In a fit of rage, my husband, Ronan Blackwood, had his men bind me and drag me down to the ice cellar despite my being five months pregnant. "Don’t think that just because you’re carrying my child, you can bully Celine. If even a single hair on her head is harmed, I’ll make you repay it a hundredfold!" Shivering violently from the cold, I knelt through tears, begging for forgiveness. I promised that from now on I would serve his precious sweetheart well to atone, that I would never again let her suffer even the slightest harm. He only gave a cold order to seal the cellar, saying I needed to be taught a lesson so it would be burned into my memory. A week later, when Celine finally recovered from her cold, he finally remembered me in the cellar. "Vesper, have you truly realized your mistake? As long as you agree to kneel and apologize to Celine immediately, I’ll spare you." What he didn’t know was that by then, I had already frozen stiff in that ice cellar. And the child he had treasured so dearly no longer showed even the faintest sign of life.

I'm the daughter of the richest man in the world, constantly surrounded by countless exceptional men. Yet I fall in love with Lance Hartley, a man who has nothing. I hide my identity and pursue him, staying by his side for six years and helping him become the company's chairman. Everyone knows I'm his girlfriend and assumes I'll be the one he marries. But he abandons me and proposes to Ella Monroe, the famous movie star. The man who once swore to love me for all eternity kneels and publicly declares his feelings for her, vowing he won't marry anyone but her in this lifetime. Puzzled, my dad confronts him and demands an explanation. "Your girlfriend is clearly Lisa. Why would you marry someone else?" Lance's expression turns cold and disdainful. "She's just some poor woman with no family, no connections, no influence. Sure, she stuck by me through the hard times, but she's not wife material. Besides, she's not even in Ella's league. Why would I settle for her?" Hiding behind the door, I feel my heart shatter. In that moment, I finally understand that I'm someone he can discard at any time. I look at my heartbroken dad and smile bitterly. "Dad, I lost." I accept the arranged marriage Dad sets up for me. But just as I'm about to marry someone else, Lance kneels before me, full of regret and remorse. "Lis, I was wrong. Please don't marry him."

After failing the mission, the System gave me one final chance, and to succeed, I had to give birth to a child. The System promised that if the baby were born safely, it would reveal the truth to my target and give me one last glimmer of hope. However, six months into my pregnancy, just when things seemed stable, I was dragged onto an operating table in the middle of the night by my husband and family. My husband stopped the anesthesiologist from giving me any pain relief. “Let her feel the pain,” he said coldly. “We need to keep the kidneys as fresh as possible.” My parents instructed the doctor to draw my blood. “She’s the same blood type as our precious girl. Let’s take some for backup.” Even my childhood friend, the boy who had always been by my side, was the one to slice open my abdomen.  They wanted my kidneys to save my sister, who was dying from kidney failure. No one believed I was pregnant. No matter how much I begged, they went ahead with the operation, tearing me open. The baby couldn’t survive, and I died on that operating table. However, as my soul began to fade away, something strange happened. Those who had murdered me—my husband, my parents, my so-called friend—they all lost their minds.

I gave up a vast fortune to be with my boyfriend Terrence. In our poorest days, we didn't even have a single grain of rice at home. Terrence went out to fight in underground rings, never surrendering once even when he was beaten black and blue. With his blood and sweat, he paved the path to our future brick by brick. In the present, his name was uttered with an undeniable tone of respect, while I was known far and wide as his missus, the woman he treasured above anyone or anything. One year, when I left the country because of a family emergency, I learned that he even started seeing a therapist due to separation anxiety. Everyone said that Terrence loved me more than life itself, and I had believed it too, wholeheartedly. Until I stood on our balcony, watching him tightly embracing another woman in the villa next door. "Even though Tanya is back, the very thought of losing you makes me lose control… I can't live without you, Mia… "If any other men ever appear by your side, I might just end up killing them…" His voice was a low rumble, tinged with a sort of unconscious madness. "B-But what about your wife? Didn't you say that she means more to you than your own life?" "Well, we just have to keep this hidden better, don't we? I want to always be with you…" My hand trembled, and I accidentally cut my hand with the fruit knife I was holding, but I felt no pain at all. To think that just one year apart was enough to shatter thirty years of love and mutual support… With trembling hands, I picked up my phone and called my mother. "Mom, I'm feeling homesick… Can you get me a new identity and a one-way ticket out of the country?"

The day my husband, Reece Malcolm, reached the pole for his polar expedition, his childhood sweetheart who was sent away reappeared in his bedroom. Everyone had kept it from me. Erica Lowell had been by his side day and night. Though Reece said he didn't want her there, he still allowed her to stay by his side for four years as his assistant. "You have to believe me, Lucy. There's nothing between Erica and me," he used to say. Always so sure. Always so convincing. But when he returned, it was with Erica in his arms—heavily pregnant. "She threatened to kill herself, Lucy. I didn't have a choice," he said. "The baby's coming. I need you to raise it. You know you're the only one I've ever loved." Four years. Four years of silence, of waiting alone in a house that never felt like home. Now, the lawyer is hired. The assets are tallied. The divorce papers are signed and sealed. I'm done.

I run into a group of rogues on my way home for my daughter's birthday. I call my wife for help, but she blocks my number. I'm dragged out of the car, stabbed a dozen times, and thrown into the bushes to die. My neck is broken, and my organs are spilling out of my body. The rogues think I'm going to die—they even mention each other's names before me. Then, they drive off in my car while whistling happily. I hold onto my head and organs as I crawl to the roadside, hoping against hope that someone will save me. Before I'm taken to the hospital, I see my wife's social media update—she and her secretary have taken a sweet photo together while celebrating our daughter's birthday. The first thing I do after being discharged is demand a divorce.

Zachary Quinn suddenly develops a fondness for going to a massage parlor after I'm discharged from the hospital—I was in an accident. He excitedly tells me that the masseuse there has the best skills he's ever experienced. "They even have free food and fruits! I bring my laptop there with me to work when I get tired at the office." I don't know why he's telling me these things. He knows my father got caught cheating at a massage parlor. I hate those places. It's only later that I learn the relaxation he describes isn't what I imagined. He's long since gone bad in places that I can't see.