短編Romance のストーリーと小説

After eating a poisonous, hallucination-inducing mushroom, I genuinely thought I’d woken up inside a spicy erotica novel. I was the heroine—a live-in housekeeper working for a rich heir, the kind of impossibly handsome, impossibly wealthy man who only exists in fiction. When I opened my eyes and saw him standing there, I felt… oddly disappointed. I muttered under my breath, “Only six guys? What, do I need to take Sundays off?” The heir let out a short, disbelieving laugh. A slow, dangerous one. “If I’d known you were this bold,” he said, “I wouldn’t have bothered being gentle.” The moment the hallucination faded, I grabbed his sleeve and practically burst into tears. “Honey, I’m sorry. I swear I didn’t mean any of that.” He loosened his tie with maddening calm and murmured, “Relax. No one here takes Sundays off. And if you’re that eager to follow the plot of your little erotica novel… we can start right now.”

“Ms. Arnold, you really should sign this divorce agreement. Otherwise, I won’t be able to answer to Mr. Fisher.” Jeremy Fisher’s personal lawyer, Cole Stewart, stood in front of Hailey Arnold with an anxious expression. In his hands were a freshly printed divorce agreement, the pages still crisp. This was the thirty-third time Jeremy had asked to divorce her. The first time, Hailey climbed onto the rooftop and jumped. She survived but broke one of her legs. The second time, she slashed her wrist with a small knife, and blood flooded half the bathroom. The third time, she swallowed an entire bottle of sleeping pills and spent three days in the hospital having her stomach pumped. … Every single time, she had used death to force Jeremy to compromise, but this time, she was tired of it.

At the company's year-end awards ceremony, just as it is supposed to be my turn to go on stage and officially announce the relationship between my wife and me, my wife's first love suddenly proposes to her in front of everyone. Angela Reed does not refuse. Instead, she laughs brightly and promotes Samuel Hayden to the new department manager. Employees throughout the entire company cheer loudly for their romance. Seeing that I have no reaction, someone beside me cannot help but ask, "Ronald, you've worked for Ms. Reed for nine years. How can you show no response at all?" I smile as I walk onto the stage, take off my wedding ring, and toss it to Samuel. "How can you propose without preparing a ring? Here—it's yours."

On his birthday, Eleanor Brook's childhood sweetheart asks her to grant his wish. He says that he wants to go to Norinia to see the aurora. Eleanor ignores the fact that I'm about to undergo tumor surgery and drains all the money from my bank account. She says that seeing the aurora is the first thing Joseph Miller has ever asked her to do, so she has to make it happen. "You're so rich. What's the harm in lending me some money? You're being so stingy." But after battling illness for two years, I've already burned through all my savings from my livestreaming days. The money she takes is the last one million dollars in my account.

My wife’s new assistant recently celebrated his birthday, and she splurged on a villa as a gift to him. On the day he moved in, the assistant, Zachary Shaw, bragged on Instagram with a post and captioned: [Bagged myself a sugar mommy, just FYI.] My wife, Ivy Bennett, commented on the post: [Happy birthday, my dear Zacky! 🫰] The photo was Zachary wrapping his arm around my wife’s slender waist, looking incredibly intimate. The work group chat blew up at once. Everyone expressed their envy toward Zachary, singing his praises for being so promising at such a young age. Then, my childhood friend, Autumn Sinclair, tagged me in the group chat and teased, [Love is a blinding green light. Your wife’s cheating on you so hard it glows. Congrats, Julian!] I smiled wryly and stubbed out my cigarette. Slowly, I typed my reply, [Want a house, Autumn? I’ll get you one too, better than her gift to him.]

In the third year of Michelle Lowe’s relationship with Sigmund Lloyd, the man she had been financially supporting, her family went bankrupt. To save the company, her father tried to force her into an arranged marriage. That very night, she packed up everything she owned, ready to elope with Sigmund. However, when she arrived at the exclusive club where he worked, she saw him elegantly socializing with powerful guests. His refined manners and quiet confidence made him look nothing like the poor young man she’d been supporting for the past three years.

On the third day of my business trip out of state, someone new joined the group chat formed for my son's class. It had been quiet for weeks when she suddenly sent a voice message. I tapped it, and an unfamiliar woman's voice played through my phone. "Hello, everyone. I'm the new language teacher at the school, and I'm also Tony Gardner's mother. Looking forward to getting to know you all!" My whole body went cold. I opened the group member list and checked it over and over. My son's name was Tony Gardner, and she said she was Tony Gardner's mother. Then, who the hell was I? I immediately called my husband. "Did someone get added to the parent group by mistake?" He paused on the other end before he laughed it off like it was nothing. "Oh, probably just a mix-up. The school has so many kids. It's not unusual for kids to have the same names. What's the matter? Did something happen?" I kept my voice light and told him everything was fine. The second I hung up, I booked the next flight home and headed straight to my son's school.

On the 99th time we fall into a frosty standoff, my girlfriend, Christina Davenport, does something she's never done before—she caves and breaks the silence. But she only does so to give me a way out because she's about to leave on a month-long business trip with her longtime crush, Adrian Blackwell. This time, I, Jeremiah Kane, don't argue with her. Instead, I make her breakfast and see her off with a smile. Christina pinches my cheek and smiles at me as if I were a puppy. "You're being such a good boy today. When I get back, I'll say yes to your marriage proposal, okay?" What she doesn't know, however, is that the people who are truly intending to leave don't make a scene. A month later, she returns home glowing with happiness, only to find a completely empty apartment. That's when the panic sets in.

The year my girlfriend, Maisie Summers, and I were supposed to get married, I broke up with her. Later, she made it big and used every means necessary to force me to marry her anyway. Everyone says we're destined to be together from the start. Yet no one knows that after we got married, she's been bringing different men home every so often. I never react and pretend as if I don't see anything. While she sleeps around night after night, I silently count how many days I have left to live.

To help her lover win the rally championship, my fiancée, Alanna Johnson, deliberately sabotaged my race car. The vehicle lost control on a curve at nearly two hundred miles per hour, and in utter despair, I called her one last time. Her voice, however, brimmed with impatience. “Stop being dramatic. “This championship means nothing to you, but Jack is about to retire. This is his final chance. “Once this race ends, I’ll cut all ties with him and marry you. All right?” But she never realized that this event had drawn unprecedented global attention. After my death, the in-car surveillance footage would be released to the world. And she would face a judgment far worse than death.

After three years of pretending to be dead on livestreams, I finally earned enough money to treat my daughter. I was about to go home and tell my wife and daughter when I overheard a call between the platform administrator and my wife. The administrator said humbly, “Chairman Morgan, Mr. Wells’s livestreams have generated tens of millions in revenue over these years. “The company withheld ninety-five percent of it. Should we keep withholding more?” Stacy fell silent for a moment before answering, “No need. Three years of testing him is enough. He barely moves year-round. He even developed muscle atrophy and didn’t tell me.” John’s voice came through the phone next. He said, “Stacy, Sam can even pretend to be dead, so what if this is an act too? “Besides, Emma’s already used to Sam being gone, so she probably won’t accept having a dad again anytime soon.” After some hesitation, my wife said indifferently, “If that’s the case, then withhold it for another six months.” I smiled and tossed the diagnosis report confirming amyotrophic lateral sclerosis into the trash. There was no need for them to test me anymore. I no longer needed to pretend.

At our wedding, my wife's assistant "accidentally" uploaded the wrong photo. The big screen was supposed to display our wedding portraits. Instead, it was a picture of my wife and him in full wedding attire. Their fingers were laced together, their eyes locked in a soft, intimate gaze, looking every bit like a blissfully happy couple. The entire venue erupted in shocked whispers. The assistant froze in shock, acting like he had no idea why he was in the photo. He started panicking, asking if we should just postpone the ceremony. My wife, however, stayed surprisingly calm. She whispered her solution, “Everyone’s here. Postponing now would be humiliating and, honestly, a bad omen. Beside, most people here don’t even know what the groom looks like. Why don’t we just let him stand in for you?” Our friends were dumbfounded. They all thought I’d explode in anger and jealousy after hearing something so outrageous. Instead, I nodded, saying it was actually a great idea. Seeing how composed I remained, my wife looked pleased with herself. She told me that since we were legally married anyway, she’d make it up to me later with another ceremony. However, she seemed to have forgotten one thing: she had just signed the divorce papers.

My wife, Christine Leigh, forced me to the brink of death all for her first love, Henry Carson. To give him a liver transplant, she sent me to the surgery table. I told her I had cancer and that the doctors had advised against the surgery. She just looked at me with an undisguised contempt, "Jason Lowe, stop with your petty tricks. Don't forget, you owe our family your life!" I lowered my head and smiled bitterly. I never left the surgery table.

My wife's first love kills me without a shred of mercy. But my wife, a world-class surgeon, doesn't try to save me. Instead, she comforts her first love. "He's so ruthless! How could he hurt you this badly?" She even tells the police that I've severely injured her first love, claiming she wants to press charges for attempted murder. Then she points at my body and demands that I get up and apologize to her first love. "Charles, stop pretending! You just want me to pity you, right? Get up and apologize to Steven!" she yells.

My wife—Nancy Valente—had been "missing" for three months after some fake skiing accident. I spotted her at a bar. She was draped over Finley Bennett's shoulder, laughing like she hadn't wrecked my life. "Good thing you came up with this plan. I almost forgot what freedom felt like." Her crew kept clinking glasses, asking when she planned to pop back up. She glanced down. "Maybe in a week. I'll show up once he's lost his mind." I stayed in the shadows, watching her bask in her little escape act. Then I grabbed my phone and called a buddy at the Vital Records Office.

A homecoming banquet was organized for my wealthy boyfriend’s first love. At the banquet, he forced me to drink an entire glass of Whisky, even though I was pregnant, just to make his first love happy. My abdomen was in excruciating pain, and blood was seeping through my white dress. He kissed his first love in front of me as his friends cheered him on. As I was losing consciousness, I heard a cold remark. “Ignore her. She’s just a mistress. She won’t be able to live without me.” When I woke up in the hospital, I caressed my flat stomach and wanted to send him a photo of the medical report detailing my miscarriage. However, I realized that his profile picture had been changed to a photo of his first love’s side profile. He even blocked me again. However, this time, I did not beg him as I had in the past. Instead, I booked a flight ticket to leave the country.

After my husband's first love, Sydney Edwards, used me as a walking blood bank, I died in the run-down rental apartment my billionaire husband, Casper Hawthorne, had tossed me into like it was a blessing for me. Today was the third day since I had died. My six-year-old son, Adam, finally realized something was wrong. He had cut his finger while playing with his toys, yet I did not comfort him. He tore open a packet of crackers and raised one to my mouth to feed me, but I did not stop him. He lay in my arms, clutching my clothes and whispering for me. Still, I did not answer. Lost and panicking, he found my phone and called his father, Casper. "Dad, why is Mom still sleeping?" The man sent back a photo of himself having New Year's Eve dinner with Sydney and said in a cold voice, "She's just sleeping, she's not dead. Today is New Year's Eve. I'm busy. Tell that clueless mom of yours that when she's ready to admit she was wrong, she can come and look for me." After the call ended, Adam stood there frozen for a long time. He picked up the last biscuit in the rental apartment from the trash can, broke it in half, and held one piece to my mouth. "Mom, let's eat too."

The day my girlfriend’s condition worsened and she needed urgent surgery, I publicly called her a burden in front of everyone. Despite her pleas, I abandoned her cruelly. Seven years later, she became a formidable international tycoon and returned home with great fanfare. To exact her revenge on me, the heartless man, she poisoned my mother into silence and sent my father to prison. Eager to see me beg for mercy, she mobilized every connection to track me down. At this point, her parents could no longer bear to watch. With tears streaming down their faces, they revealed the entire truth. “He died seven years ago to donate his organs to you!”

After being reborn, I stopped preventing Rachel Jackson from having any contact with her childhood sweetheart, Logan Cole. She gave Logan all her salary to pursue his dream, while I used the money I earned through hard work to invest. She got pregnant and gave birth to a child for Logan in the hospital, so I bought a train ticket to leave the small town. Later, she said she would agree to marry me as long as I agreed to adopt Logan's child. Unfortunately, I had already made my first million dollars by relying on the memories of my previous life. In this life, I chose to fulfill their wishes and enjoy a good life myself.

After landing a major project for the company, I receive a ring from my girlfriend, Kiera Ripley. I happily share a picture of it on my socials, thinking she was finally going to announce our engagement. But Kiera's newly hired assistant, Trevor Horton, suddenly slaps me hard and overturns my entire work desk. "You're a director, for God's sake! Don't you feel the least bit ashamed, stealing the present my wife gave me?" Trevor snaps. Not only does Kiera not retort to Trevor's words, but she even says I am not fit for my position as director of the tech department. She then announces to all the staff that Trevor will be taking over the project I just secured for the company. Only then do I realize that the person Kiera wants to publicly announce as her boyfriend isn't me, but Trevor instead. All the staff immediately raise their phones to record me, enjoying the spectacle that is my misfortune. But instead of getting angry, I shove my nametag into Trevor's hands and say, "Since Mr. Horton will be taking over the project, you can take over my position as director as well. I wish you two a long and happy life together!"