Pendek Romance Cerita & Novel

Three years into our marriage, I finally learned from my husband. I went looking for love somewhere else. Three years ago, when his family went bankrupt, I handed him every cent I had. I nursed his dying grandfather. To support his entrepreneurial venture, I accompanied investors in drinking until I suffered stomach hemorrhages—time and time again. In the end, he honored his grandfather's dying wish and married me. Then he got blind drunk on our wedding day and walked out before the vows were finished. He said he hated me. Hated me for driving his childhood sweetheart Seraphina away. Hated me for costing him the only woman he ever loved. Our marriage was his revenge. Until the day Seraphina came home, and I slid the divorce papers across the table. The man who swore he hated me went red in the eyes, staring at the kiss mark on my throat…

In our five years of marriage, my husband, Derrick Wickham, bails on me 99 times for his childhood sweetheart, Jessica Harson. This time, after he stands me up, I find two plane tickets to Frantines in his office. "I was planning to surprise you for our anniversary. Since you've already seen them, we'll just meet at the airport," he says icily. I eagerly pack and get myself ready, arriving early at the airport. I wait from the wee hours of dawn till the late hours of night, but Derrick fails to show up. Then, I see a post on Jessica's social media. "It's my birthday today. Though he doesn't have the time to go on a trip with me to Frantines, I forgive him because he brought me to the amusement park instead!" In the past, I'd have called him, crying and demanding answers. But this time, I'm truly done.

Eight years after I broke up with Greyson Tromp, we met in the hospital. He brought his wife for a prenatal checkup and happened to have their consultation with me. I wore a mask and carefully examined the condition of her baby. The intern beside us asked how they ended up together. Elise Jacob said smugly, "You have to fight for a handsome guy. To get the best, you have to fight for it! He used to like someone else. To win his heart, I stirred up trouble between them, causing them to misunderstand each other and gradually drift apart. "Later, they had a really bad argument, and I hid the apology letter he asked me to pass on to that woman. I still keep it as our token of love. That woman was pregnant at the time, and I used every means to get rid of her baby!" After they left, I removed my mask. My hands instinctively rested on my stomach. There was an ugly scar beneath my clothes. It was from when Greyson forced me to abort our baby. A few days later, Greyson came kneeling before me, holding that apology letter and a divorce agreement.

I've been in a five-year secret relationship with Shawn Lowell. For so long, everyone thinks we're rivals who hate each other's guts. At a bachelorette party hosted by a mutual friend, the bride-to-be orders every guy who is still single to wear eye masks. After that, every single woman has to walk one lap in front of them. This is so that the men can pick up on the women's perfumes. If they find a perfume they like the most, they can embrace the woman instantly and become a couple for the day. I walk very slowly in front of the men on purpose. In fact, I even stop in front of Shawn for half a second. But as soon as Shawn takes off his eye mask, he finds himself hugging Alyssa Sutton, his childhood sweetheart and first love. "Wow! You really are amazing, Mr. Lowell! You actually recognized Alyssa from all those fragrances and hugged her on the spot! Even God thinks you two are a match made in heaven!" Alyssa's eyes slightly redden, whereas Shawn looks down at her with a doting smile playing on his lips. Both of them refuse to let go of each other. As I stand a short distance away, I just smile at the scene. Last night, Shawn was still kissing the scar on my chest in bed while telling me that he wanted to marry me. How is it that he's forgotten his promise in just the blink of an eye?

In the seventh year of my engagement with Nathan Galloway, he has inherited everything from his dead older brother, including his newly widowed sister-in-law, Catherine Wilkins. Whenever Nathan is done sleeping with Catherine, he'll hug me and comfort me gently. "Just wait for a little longer, Jojo. Once Cathy gets pregnant, we'll have our own wedding." This is the Galloways' only condition for Nathan to inherit the family's assets. In the six months following his return to Ravelton, Nathan has visited Catherine's room 52 times. He initially started off with just one visit per month. But slowly, the visits have been increasing to the point that he now visits her once every two days. Finally, when I spend my 52nd sleepless night sitting in my room and waiting for Nathan's return, I receive the news of Catherine's pregnancy. But at the same time, the news of Nathan and Catherine's upcoming marriage breaks out as well. "Mommy, is someone getting married in this household?" As I stare at the wedding decorations in the villa, I just pull my son, Theo Huber, into a hug with a blank expression. "Yeah. Your daddy is about to marry the woman he loves. That's why it's time for us to move out." What Nathan doesn't know is that we Melshes couldn't care less about marriage.

I cradled Chloe’s newborn, filled with joy and affection. The baby was not blood of mine, yet as Chloe’s best friend, I would love and protect the little one with everything I had. "Sweet boy," I whispered, gently tapping the tip of his nose. "I'm your godmother. No one would ever hurt you." The hospital room was washed in golden afternoon light. Adrian stood by the window in a dark overcoat, his profile sharp against the glass. He looked exactly like the man the whole industry knew: controlled, elegant, untouchable. Hollywood's golden producer. My newlywed husband. Then he said, in a voice as flat as if he were discussing a contract, "He's not your godson. He's my son." For a second, I thought I had misheard him. Maybe I was just exhausted from the wedding, from the endless calls and fittings and congratulations. I almost laughed. But Adrian turned around. A cruel little smile curved his lips. "The child is mine," he said again. My arms tightened around the baby. "The night you got hurt," he went on, "I was with Chloe the whole night. We went through an entire box... apparently this little guy still found a way to arrive." I couldn't move. It felt as if ice water had been poured down my throat. I opened my mouth, but no sound came out. After a long silence, I finally managed to whisper, "But... we only registered our marriage yesterday." Adrian walked over and put an arm around my shoulders, almost gently. His tone was soft, but it carried the kind of condescension people used with a child throwing a tantrum. "Don't worry. Chloe and I were never going to get married. If I had wanted to marry her, I would have done it years ago." He paused, and something almost pleased flashed in his eyes. "Didn't Chloe ever tell you? We had a history. I was her first."

At the dinner table, my wife's best friend suddenly speaks to her in Lytian. "Three years ago, you married Julian in a grand wedding just to help Jace get Julian's letter of forgiveness. Over the years, I've seen Julian fall more and more deeply in love with you. Yet, you're still lying to him. "You gave him sterilization pills but passed them off as his depression medication. Aren't you afraid that he'll fall apart if he finds out the truth?" My wife, Erica Inman, briefly shows a conflicted expression on her face. She then gives a bitter smile and says, "A child unwanted by their mother has no reason to be born. As long as Julian doesn't stand in the way of Jace's happiness, I will keep my promise and stay by his side for the rest of his life." No one knows that I've learned Lytian to keep up with Erica. I stand in the living room and look at the fresh kiss mark on my neck. As I glance at the medication I take regularly for my depression, my whole body turns cold. It turns out that all of Erica's affection toward me was fake. What I thought was my salvation turns out to be nothing but a carefully planned deception. Since that's the case, I'll do my part to make sure they all get what they want.

I always had a weakness for handsome men, so I camped out online to grab one of the very first AI incubi. The brand's whole pitch was seduction tuned a hundred percent to its owner's taste. But every time I got within ten minutes of Lucien Crane, he'd force-start a system cleaning cycle, go dark, and idle out. "Master, please don't overuse me. Bacteria buildup can cause a malfunction." Left unsatisfied every single time, I finally went to customer service, and the rep looked as baffled as I felt. "An incubus unit would never break off contact with its owner. We'd recommend restarting him at home." But on the drive back, I happened to scroll past a livestream from my live-in housekeeper. The title sat right there in bold: How a Seasoned Queen Subdues In Her AI Incubus. The lighting was low. The man's earlobes were flushed, and he knelt on one knee, every inch of bared skin crossed with messy whip marks. My housekeeper wiggled her red-painted toes, all smiles. "This one's got real stamina. Five hours straight and he never once tapped out." As the comments poured in, envious, a chill ran through me. So the so-called "cleaning system" was just his excuse to slack off and idle. Behind my back, he was happily playing somebody else's obedient little sub. If he wouldn't serve me the way he was built to, then he could wait to get shipped back to the factory and scrapped for parts.

After my husband got into a car accident, he started acting strange and unpredictable. I went to countless doctors, and every one of them told me the same thing—he couldn't be provoked, and I had to go along with whatever he wanted. When he said he didn't want me in the master bedroom, I moved my things into the guest room next door. When he said his childhood sweetheart had cancer and he wanted to spend her last days with her, I even brought her into our home. One night, when I went downstairs to get some medicine for my stomach, I heard Harvey's voice, his tone oh so tender. "Katie, you have to live on. If you don't, I'll die too." Katie's breathy, trembling voice followed. "Are you sure Jenna's willing to donate her bone marrow to me?" "Of course. Even if she had to die for me, she'd do it willingly." I froze in place. Tears streamed down my face. That's right. Five years ago, I had donated one of my kidneys to him. Back then, I loved him so much that I really would have died for him. But now, all I wanted was to leave.

On the day of my prenatal checkup, my husband's childhood sweetheart, Maya Crane, volunteered to drive me to the hospital herself. Halfway there, she suddenly let out a cold laugh. "Lara Quinn. You don't deserve Mason Sterling. "You don't deserve to carry his baby." My heart dropped. I clutched my stomach and tried to jump out of the car. However, before I could move, she jerked the steering wheel–sending my side of the car straight toward an oncoming truck. The truck swerved at the last second. Her side slammed into the guardrail. Maya was dead at the scene. I was hemorrhaging, and the baby almost came too early. In her last breath, dying in the wreck, she sent Mason a message. [Mason… Lara did this to me on purpose…] The police investigated for half a month and ruled me innocent. Mason grieved, but he stayed by my side, caring for me with obsessive tenderness while I recovered. The day I was discharged, he took me to the seaside. Then he shoved me into the ocean. His voice was cold and merciless. "Don't think destroying the evidence means you're safe. You caused her death. Pay for it with your life." The sea filled my lungs. And when I opened my eyes again–I was back to the day of my prenatal checkup.

George Milton took me eight times in a single night. By the ninth, his hand gripped my waist, his voice rough with satisfaction as he rasped, "Baby, I want you to use that innocent-but-sexy look you've got to go seduce Jordan." My entire body went rigid. Then I found out—George's first love, Sarah Byrnes, had been ditched by Jordan Baker, leaving her heartbroken. He wanted me to take revenge for her, to make Jordan taste the agony of being abandoned by the one he loved. After my family had gone bankrupt, I was delivered straight to George's bed. Naively, I believed he treated me differently. After all, I had been the woman at his side the longest. But he only sneered. "The reason I keep you is because you look like Sarah. She's hurting. Now it's your turn to do your part. With reddened eyes, I agreed, swallowing every foolish hope I should never have harbored. Soon, I captured the aloof and untouchable Jordan's heart. And for the first time, George lost control. He wept as he begged, "Catelyn, I regret it. Come back to me, please?"

There's a tradition in the clan called bride heist. The groom has to infiltrate the bride's house in the middle of the night. There, he has to carry her on his back and rush for the exit while overcoming all the obstacles. I've waited for Nicholas Tanner for three years. Finally, the night when he and his buddies infiltrate the courtyard of my house arrives. Just as I'm about to bolt toward Nicholas, I hear him murmuring to the others in a low tone. "When the chaos breaks out, go for Tricia. We can't let her marry that good-for-nothing from the next village. If that happens, she won't be able to leave the mountains ever again. "As for Charlene, she's a wild and temperamental woman, so she'll definitely fight tooth and nail to stop anyone from abducting her. You all should protect yourselves." Nicholas' buddies swap glances with each other "I don't think this is a good idea, Nicholas. You and Charlene have already registered your marriage, after all. If she were to find out the truth, she'd definitely kick up a huge ruckus!" "Let her be," Nicholas replies casually. "It's way too dark for us to see anything during the bride heist anyway, so it's completely normal if we get the wrong bride. I'll just coax Charlene later if she gets mad at me. "Besides, y'all know that the marriage certificate is a fake one. I've already promised Tricia that I'll secure a residential slot for her in Capworth. Unfortunately, Charlene will have to bear with the grievances for now." I overhear every single word in the conversation behind the door. Instead of throwing a tantrum, I retreat back into my room quietly. Nicholas and his buddies think that I'll cause a huge ruckus and beat up the people involved in the bride heist once I find out that the groom is another man. But I just quietly recline on that man's back and become the bride of the other bride heist team.

"Sir, the divorce agreement from the safe." On their fifth wedding anniversary, in a dimly-lit restaurant, Xavier Hampton's secretary placed the divorce papers in front of him. Five years ago, on the day Elizabeth Eaton and he registered their marriage— She had loved him deeply. So deeply that she had prepared the divorce agreement in advance, signed her name, and locked it away in the safe. If she ever betrayed him, all he had to do was sign. Xavier picked up the pen and swiftly signed his name. Across from him, the empty seat seemed heavier than any presence. His gaze dimmed. "Send the divorce papers to Attorney Harvey," he said, his voice calm, almost detached. "Then book a hotel and have the wedding venue set up in advance." The secretary hesitated for a moment before carefully asking, "Whose names should I write as the bride and groom?" "Elizabeth Eaton and Connor Walker."

During a company dinner, I overindulged in alcohol and mistakenly addressed my boss, Brogan Sheppard, as "husband" in front of everyone. My coworkers laughed it off. "She’s gone crazy trying to chase the boss." Brogan shot me a cold look. "If you can’t control your mouth, maybe you shouldn’t be drinking." In the brief silence that followed, the most difficult client in the room, Leon Williamson, let out a low, mocking laugh. "She was calling me. So why are you getting so worked up?"

Back when I was young and dumb, I slapped some college guy working a side gig at a nightclub. My boyfriend had just ditched me for my best friend, Vanessa Shannon. Then, not even five minutes later, I caught her in the corner, sliding her hand under another guy's shirt. He bit his lip and just took it. Something in my brain short-circuited. I stood up and walked over. If Vanessa wanted him, why couldn't I? But the second I reached for him, he smacked my hand away. Vanessa cracked up. The whole private room turned to watch. Mortified, I slapped him. "You work at a place like this. Don't play innocent." Later, my family went broke, and I ended up working at a nightclub just to get by. The private room was loud as hell. I lost a game, and everyone at the table started chanting for me to take my bra off. My face went hot. I stood there, completely frozen. Then a low voice cut through the noise with a cold laugh. "You work at a place like this. Don't play innocent." I looked up. Our eyes locked. His stare was icy, full of pure mockery. It was the college guy I'd slapped years ago.

My name was Natalia Granger. My husband, Andrew Lane, was a CEO, but he didn't love me or our son, Carl Lane. In order to spend time with his first love, Jennifer Zink, and her child, Jordan, Andrew would give one piece of candy to Carl before leaving. He promised he would return once Carl collected 100 candy wrappers. … Yet, when Carl finally gathered 100 candy wrappers, Andrew dumped him by the side of a highway instead. It was all because of another child's birthday party. Panicking, I searched everywhere for Carl. By the time I found him, he had become mute due to the trauma. However, Andrew only commented flippantly, "Jenny and Jordan didn't mean it. Can't you two be more magnanimous?" Eventually, Carl no longer became sad when Andrew left, nor did he hold out hope for Andrew's return. Instead, he simply wanted to return the candy wrappers to Andrew while also leaving a note that read, "Daddy, I don't want you to come back anymore, but could you return my voice to me?"

It was not until my death that I realized my husband would not touch me because he was deeply in love with my best friend. The two spent their entire lives longing for each other, but never crossing the line, staying loyal from afar. Even my best friend's professor husband lived his life like a celibate monk. After being reborn, I seized the moment and held the professor's hand. "I like you. Let's be together." His eyes darkened as he replied, "Perfect. I feel the same." We instantly connected. However, this time, it was my husband and best friend who were not happy about it.

Married three years. Stood up three years. Today was the last time I bothered showing up. Surprise—he bailed again. Still clinging to hope like a total idiot, I called. One last shot. "A-Aurora, I'm busy. Just wait," he muttered. And then her voice cut in. All breathy and smug: "That old woman can't satisfy you, huh? Paolo, be gentle." Click. Right on cue, Marco Medici—loyal, patient, saint-like Marco—sent his 99th proposal. This time, I didn't leave him hanging. [Want to come over for bollito misto?]

I am born with a body that draws men in, but the moment I marry, I develop a terrifying allergy to them. Every time my husband and I try to be intimate, my skin erupts in violent rashes, and I nearly suffocate. Still, I want a child so badly that one night I climb into his bed in secret, willing to gamble with my life. Strangely, nothing happens—no hives, no swelling, no shortness of breath. My husband even takes me to a clinic, where the baby is confirmed healthy. For the first time, I believe life can return to normal. Eight months in, we share a bed again. The allergic reaction hits instantly, worse than ever, and I'm rushed to the hospital. When the procedure ends, he is nowhere to be seen. I step into the hallway and hear him talking with his friends. "Did you see her face? Swollen like that. Ridiculous." Leonard Carter swings a vial of the custom serum he has been giving me and snorts. "I engineered this formula myself. It makes her break out the second a man touches her. It keeps her off me. "She wanted a baby so badly. Fine. She's carrying mine and Hannah's. That should make her feel accomplished. "When she gives birth, I'll let her spend the rest of her life calling herself Mrs. Carter." Blood drains from my face. The child I've been cherishing isn't even mine.

The last time I mentioned my engagement to Walter Reagle, everyone in the room went quiet at first. However, after seeing Walter's annoyed look, they all started laughing. "Who still believes in old-fashioned childhood betrothals these days?" "Is Ms. Lawson feeling insecure?" I ignored their teasing. I just looked at Walter, who was lounging on the couch with his shirt collar open, showing off the lovebites on his neck and collarbone. My heart felt like it was being stabbed. The pain came slowly. "We were too young to agree to something so silly," he said. Walter looked up with a faint, mocking smile. He gave me a lazy look. "We're grown up now, Emma. "Let's just forget about the past."