Short Romance Stories & Novels

There's an unspoken rule in the high-end society—married couples who are bound by marriage alliances are allowed to branch out romantically. But if they ever buy anything for their side piece, they must buy the same gift for their legal spouse. Raymond Johnson is a very particular person. That's why he continues sticking to the rule and gives Melanie Strickland the respect she deserves by showering her with gifts that are 100 times more than his mistress', even after the Stricklands have gone into bankruptcy. If his mistress gets 100 thousand dollars' worth of allowances every month, Melanie's bank account must receive ten million dollars in return. When Raymond gifts his mistress jewelry that's worth a million dollars, he'll go for the main highlight of the auction. After that, Melanie will receive an antique emerald ring worth 100 million dollars. The rich wives, who are too used to seeing wealthy men immersing themselves in booze and beautiful women, can only sigh wistfully whenever they witness Raymond and Melanie's lovey-dovey relationship. But at the same time, they can't resist dropping Melanie words of advice—mainly to tell her to appreciate what she has now. Appreciate, huh? Of course Melanie appreciates everything she has right now. That's why on the day Raymond gives a house of very little value that's located in the suburbs to his mistress, Melanie decides to ask him a question while receiving the land deed of Villa No. 1 that's located in Northshore. "I've grown tired of this marriage. Can we get a divorce?"

Two days before my wedding, I was sorting through some old belongings when I suddenly remembered the time capsules Ethan Shaw and I buried ten years ago. His expression froze the moment he heard it. He tried to talk me out of going. “It’s been so long. Someone must’ve dug them up already.” I didn’t think much of it and went back to our old school on my own. But at the spot where we buried it, I unearthed five metal boxes of different sizes. Two of them were the ones Ethan and I buried a decade ago, now rusted all over. The other three didn’t belong there—one was just as rusty, while the remaining two looked brand-new. The old box had Rose Quinn’s name carved on it. On top were the words: “My secret crush was a war of myself. Ethan, I wish you happiness.” I remembered her then—an unremarkable girl who used to sit behind us. And the two new boxes were engraved with the names Ethan Shaw and Rose Quinn. The date marked on them was today. On Ethan’s box, it read: “My greatest regret in life is that I can’t give you a wedding.” On Rose’s box, it read: “My greatest regret in life is that I can’t openly wish you a happy wedding day.”

On the day of the World Rally Championship finals, I pressed the accelerator to the floor, ready for the final dash. The next moment, the engine exploded in a deafening roar, and thick smoke instantly filled the cockpit. Flames spread toward the fuel tank. I yanked at the door, desperate to jump out, but the handle wouldn’t budge, and the brakes felt welded in place. In that instant of despair, my husband’s voice came through the comms. “Attention, all teams, no need to rescue her. My wife is the Iron Racer! “For today’s live broadcast challenge, let’s see if she can drive this burning car across the finish line!” His co-commentator, recently recruited onto the team, chimed in with excitement. “Thomas, the sponsor just confirmed! As long as Jane holds on to the end, they’ll increase investment. I can get a permanent spot!” I understood instantly then that the husband on the commentary platform I had supported for years was using my life to pave the way for his mistress. Smoke clawed at my throat. However, I forced down the dizziness and begged, “For the sake of all our years together…” Only for him to cut me off with irritation. “Save your energy for driving. You’re skilled. Just hold on a little longer. Mandy’s promotion depends entirely on you.” The cockpit had become an inferno; my skin searing with every second. I gripped the blistering wheel, steering through the smoke for the last time. This time, my finish line was the commentary platform where the two of them were huddled together.

At the annual gala, my father had me marry Asher Ziegler, a rising star in the finance industry whom he had groomed. Back then, I, Maddison Gruber, had no idea that Asher was in love with someone else. Sometime later, my father's company is investigated for product fraud, and his company's stock plummets. He even faces criminal charges. When this happens, Asher immediately brings his first love, Cora Singer, home and tells me outright that he is going to make her his legally wedded wife. My mother-in-law admonishes me. "Your family's bankrupt now, and you're completely barren! Why shouldn't my son remarry?" Asher slides a divorce agreement in front of me, his tone condescending. "Sign this, and I can let you stay here and live alongside Cora." But I say nothing. I merely quietly book a ticket to leave this place. In seven days, I will be following my father down south.

Our place was hit by an earthquake. I was crushed by a slab of stone, but my wife, leader of the rescue squad, abandoned me in favor of her true love. She said, "You're a soldier. You can live with a little injury. Felix can't. He's always been weak, and he needs me." I was saved, eventually, and I wanted to leave my wife. I agreed to the chip research that would station me in one of the National Science Foundation's bases deep in the mountains. My leader was elated about my agreeing to this research. He grasped my hand tightly. "Marvelous. With you in our team, Jonathan, this research won't fail! But… you'll be gone for six whole years. Are you sure your partner's fine with it?" I nodded. "She will be. I'm serving the nation here. She'll understand." The leader patted my shoulder. "Good to know. The clock is ticking, so you'll only have one month to say your goodbyes. That enough for you?" I smiled. "More than enough."

I run into my former sister-in-law, whom I haven't seen in ages, during a prenatal checkup at the hospital. Wynne Jenkins glances at my belly. And just like she always does, her face crinkles with disdain as she starts nagging me. "Look at you, wandering around with a pregnant belly at your age," she hollers. "What if something happens to my baby nephew? Can't you be a little more sensible and stop making Sean worry all the time?" She must have forgotten. A year ago, Mom was gravely ill. Her only wish was to see me married with children. I staked everything and proposed to Sean Jenkins. On our big day, I waited from dawn until nightfall—only to receive a 30-second voice message from him. "I won't show up at the ceremony, and I won't marry you. This is what you get for bullying Lav." Mom was so enraged by Sean's recklessness that she suffered a heart attack and passed away. After taking care of her funeral, I erased every trace of myself. With what little I had left, I fled Horton—while Sean was still abroad, skiing with Lavender Quinn. And yet now, Wynne says, "Sean spends more than two weeks every month flying around looking for you. He's lost nearly 20 pounds in less than a year. "He's been waiting for you, Janelle. Now that you're back, please stay and build a family with him." I smirk and raise my hand, flaunting the ring on my finger. "Sorry, I like to keep a low profile. I'm already married, but we kept the ceremony simple. That's why you didn't know."

In the fifth month of my pregnancy, my husband brought back his first love, who was eight months pregnant and causing a stir about getting a divorce. I politely told him that pregnant women would influence each other, which wasn’t good for the child. Alex, however, smashed a water glass and said in disgust, "Sarah is depressed because of the divorce, and the only one she can rely on is me! Do you want her to die?" I felt nauseous and vomited, unable to sleep through the night, and my health worsened with each passing day. To make her happy, he filled the house with lilies. But he had forgotten that I was allergic to lilies and locked me in the room, saying, "Let’s see if you can get an allergic reaction if you can’t smell the lilies." I bled continuously, desperately calling him for help for both myself and the child, but he simply said that I was still early in the pregnancy and there wouldn’t be any problems. When the fetal movements stopped, I had completely given up. It was at that moment that he frantically pushed open the door.

On our wedding day, Ethan got a call and bolted from the ceremony. Grandma was so furious she started coughing up blood, and everyone just watched. Not one person stepped in to help. I raced her to the hospital, but it was too late. She was gone before they even got her inside. Then, as I sat alone in the morgue, my phone lit up. It was Ethan. "Grace, get to the hospital. Bella's hurt and needs your blood!" "Ethan Carter, it's over between us." I ended the call, leaving the last pieces of my heart—and him—behind. Months later, he was on his knees in the pouring rain, begging for forgiveness, saying he'd do anything, give anything, if I'd only look back.

After three years of relentless pursuit, I finally won over Logan—a guy who had never shown the slightest interest in women—and he cherished me like I was his entire world. On the eve of our wedding, I accidentally overheard one of his friends teasing him, "Logan, are you really ready to step into the grave of marriage for Bella? And what about Joann? She's chased you for so many years. Don't you feel anything for her?" Logan's voice was cold. "If we hadn't grown up together, I wouldn't even want to see Joann's face. She could never compare to Bella, ever." So, I held onto dreams for our future, and I married him. Two years later, at our daughter's hundred-day celebration, Joann came to me in tears, claiming her baby had leukemia—and that only my daughter could save her baby. Logan's eyes reddened instantly, and without hesitation, he sent our daughter into the operating room to have her blood drawn. I struggled in the bodyguards' grip desperately, crying and pleading, "Logan, Lily is still so little. She can't take this. She'll die! Please, use the cord blood I stored for her. I'm begging you, let her go." He kicked me aside. "It's just a bit of blood. Joann's baby is dying, and you're still this selfish? Get out!" When the surgery was over, he tossed a divorce agreement at me. "Joann's child is mine. I have to give them both a name, and I'm taking her abroad for treatment." I stared at my silent, motionless daughter in the operating room, my heart turning to ash. "Fine." Six years later, Logan saw me in a baby store, holding the hand of my five-year-old son. Logan reached out with a pained look, trying to pick him up. "Why did you cut Lily's hair so short? She looks like a boy. What were you thinking?"

Bertrand Callum was a well-known lawyer in our circle and my fiancé. We had agreed to go on our honeymoon right after registering our marriage. But he broke that promise again and again. He took his secretary to every place I had dreamed of visiting. On my birthday, he brought her to Saltorlini, the place we had planned to go together. Later, he gave up our marriage registration just because she had sprained her ankle. Even when I was in a car accident and on the verge of death, he hung up on my call for help because of something she said. After I recovered, I went alone to Acreatic, a place I had always longed to see, and moved out of the home we once shared. A week after I left, Bertrand called to scold me. "Annie, you need to stop overreacting. Are you really going to divorce me over something so trivial?" I wanted to remind him that we had never actually registered our marriage. But ultimately, I shut up and said nothing. After all, there was nothing between us anymore.

For the ninety-ninth time, Thomas Wells brought a strange woman home. Following his instructions, I was washing Chloe Brooks's feet. Without warning, she kicked the basin violently, sending hot water splashing onto my face. "Thomas, Ms. Harris just pinched my foot! My feet are for ballet—I'm in so much pain. What am I supposed to do for tomorrow's competition?" Thomas flew into a rage. To punish me, he had someone bring a brazier, and I was forced to press my foot into the burning coals. The smell of burning flesh filled the entire living room in an instant. Thomas paid no attention as I collapsed to the floor, curling up and breaking out in a cold sweat. He turned away, carrying Chloe off to the bedroom. Shortly afterward, I called Thomas's sister, Tracy. "Tracy, I'm sorry. I don't intend to be with Thomas anymore." After that, I left and vanished from his life. Later, I heard that Mr. Wells of the Wells family had gone mad.

I'm Tristan Scott's driver's daughter. Ten years ago, my father died at the hands of Tristan's abductors as he tried to save Tristan. Tristan had held me close and told me, "I'll care for you for the rest of your life on your father's behalf." Later, my mother's cancer relapsed due to her sorrow after losing my father. Before her death, she hoped to see Tristan and me marry. But on the wedding day, Tristan leaves me at the altar. I weep and try to keep him around, but he sneers and says, "You should know where to draw the line—your father gave his life in exchange for the cushy life you now have. That should be enough for you! You're dreaming if you think you can marry me!" In the end, my mother dies without seeing Tristan put a ring on me. That night, his assistant shares an Instagram story. The photo is of her and Tristan's faces plastered to each other as she shows off the ring on her finger. It's captioned, "My answer is yes."

All because his first love, Luna Harper, needed test subjects for her drug research, Jake Bertrand sent me to a mental hospital when I was pregnant just so I could serve as an experiment subject for her. I was electroshocked until I drooled and convulsed, but he simply covered his first love’s eyes in disgust, saying, “What filth. Don’t look.” Thanks to the results of this experiment, Luna received a nomination for an award, and he lit up the entire city with fireworks to celebrate her success. Meanwhile, during the freezing winter night under the dazzling fireworks, I gave birth to a deformed male fetus. The child cried just once before passing away. Numbly, I placed the stillborn into a freezing chamber. Seven days later, at the awards ceremony for Luna, it would appear in Jake’s hands as a gift.

I had just gotten hospitalization prior to my operation when my wife told me she was going on an urgent business trip, leaving me and our one-year-old daughter behind. Two days later, her childhood sweetheart proudly posted a family photo on social media with a caption that said: “Took a picture of our happy family of three on our trip!” I looked at my wife who was smiling tenderly in the picture and commented, “?” My wife immediately called and berated me, “He's a single father who doesn’t have a wife to help take care of his child! All I did was take a picture with them, what are you being so defensive about?” That same evening, her childhood sweetheart posted a picture of a million-dollar dowry given to him with the caption: “After we took the picture, she insisted on giving me this as a dowry.” I knew my wife gave it to him to appease him. But this time, I was going to leave her for good.

At a classmate’s wedding, everyone joked with me, "So when are you getting married?" I said, "Soon." My girlfriend, Fiona Hartley, said she hadn’t thought about it yet. After we spoke at the same time, she looked at me with undisguised disgust. "When did I ever agree to marry you?" That night, claiming it was out of spite, she went out with friends to a get-together centered around her long-cherished first love. I knew then that she had never intended to marry me. So I didn’t try to stop her. I let the wedding plans continue as scheduled. After all, she was never the woman I wanted to marry in the first place.

The day before my wedding, my daughter and I got into a car accident. My daughter died instantly, and I was left with broken legs, condemned to spend the rest of my life in a wheelchair. When Spencer Ford found out, he rushed us to the hospital, his actions frantic, almost out of control. In the midst of my pain, I overheard a conversation between Spencer and his assistant. "The car's been disposed of. Lorelei will never find out that we tampered with it. But I'm compelled to ask… Rowena was your own daughter. Was it really worth it, losing her for Melanie? "When Rowena was dying, she was calling for you to save her… I could hardly bring myself to do it." Spencer remained silent for a long time, the tension in the air thick. Then he slowly exhaled a plume of smoke. "Melanie's pregnant. I won't let anyone compete with her child for the inheritance. And all of this is Lorelei's fault. She brought it on herself."

Max Siegel loved me deeply and promised me the grandest wedding anyone had ever seen. However, just three days before the big day, everything changed. The custom-made wedding dress he'd ordered for me was given to his stepsister, Fawn Lewis, and instead, he handed me a pill—one that could erase memories. “Kate,” he said, “I don’t want to hurt you, but Fawn has just been diagnosed with terminal cancer. She doesn’t have long. Her last wish is to marry me. I can’t have her leave this world with regrets. “This pill will make you forget everything about us for a few days. But don’t worry. After the wedding is over, I’ll give you the antidote, and you’ll remember everything again. Then, I’ll give you the wedding you deserve.” His tone left no room for negotiation. Without hesitation, I took the pill and swallowed it. However, what he didn’t know was that I developed that drug myself, and there was no antidote. Three days from now, I would forget the man I loved most—him. And once that happens, there’s no turning back and no chance to start over.

Charles Dickson will transfer five million dollars to me every time he cheats. After three years of being together, I've saved enough money to last a lifetime. This time, he transfers ten million dollars to me. I immediately pack my things and make a run for it when I see the money in my account. By the time he tracks me down, I've started a career as a teacher. He looks disdainful. "Enough of this nonsense. What can you teach them?" I run my mouth. "I'm using my experience to teach young women how to find a rich, generous husband who's always away from home, of course!" That strikes a nerve. His eyes turn red with rage as he snaps, "Am I nothing but a teaching tool to you, Chloe?" "Of course not!" I say. Before he can feel pleased, I continue, "At most, you're a failed specimen because you always come home…"

Ashton had always been deeply devoted. However, on the day his first love was diagnosed with cancer, he handed me a pill that could erase memories. "Macie," he said gently, "Lydia doesn't have much time left. Give me three days—to give her the wedding she's always dreamed of." "I promise I won't break your heart.This pill will make you forget, just temporarily. Once it's over, you'll take the antidote, fall in love with me again, and we'll get married—properly, this time." His eyes left no room for doubt. So I took the pill and swallowed it. No hesitation. However, what Ashton did not realize... I created the memory-erasing drug. There is no antidote. In three days, I'll forget him—forever.

Back when we were still in love, I heard from someone else that Charlie Grant had been getting unusually close to his secretary. He never offered an explanation. He let me dig for the truth on my own. Over the past five years, I quietly collected countless photos of them together—having lunch, leaving late-night meetings, even traveling for business—but none of them offered conclusive proof of cheating. Until the day he proposed to me. There was a giant screen set up. It was supposed to play a romantic video Charlie had prepared just for the proposal, but the screen suddenly cut to something else. A video of Charlie at a hospital, standing beside his secretary as she underwent a pregnancy check-up. In the video, the doctor clearly referred to Charlie as her husband… and the father of her child. His secretary burst into tears on the spot and apologized to me repeatedly. She sobbed as though she were the victim. Charlie, however, stood there with a cold expression and said flatly, "She's an unwed mother. She was helpless. I was just accompanying her for the checkup. The doctor must've misunderstood." Everyone braced for a dramatic scene. However, I didn’t scream. I didn’t cry. I only reached up and slowly removed the delicate flower hairpiece from my head. I set the hairpiece down. Then I looked Charlie in the eyes and spoke calmly. "You're right. It is sad that she’s pregnant and all alone. "This marriage proposal was meant for her. Not me." I gave a faint smile. "May you enjoy a blissful life. And… congratulations on the baby."