Best Friend Melodramatic Short Stories & Novels

After we got married, my husband gave every piece of jewelry he bought me its own name. "This watch is Renee. This four-leaf clover bracelet is Phoebe. This diamond ring is Shannon..." My best friend looked puzzled. "Why do those all sound like women's names?" I smiled. "Because they are. "They're all named after women Derek Shaw cheated on me with. Every time I caught him, he would give me another piece." There were ninety-nine pieces in all. The first time I discovered his infidelity was the day after our wedding. I'd trashed our new home then. Derek simply wrapped his arms around me from behind, took my hand, and asked if it hurt. That night, he slipped a bracelet I had had my eye on onto my wrist. "I was just having a little fun. If you don't like her, I'll get rid of her." Over the three years we were married, some version of that scene played out almost every day. My heart went from twisting in agony to slowly being worn numb. I opened the box in my hands. Inside was a pearl necklace named Jenny. I used to tell myself that he was only fooling around and that, deep down, he still loved me. But this time was different. Derek had truly fallen for her. He took her to Tayhollow to see the ocean and laid the groundwork for her future after graduation... I ran my fingers over the pearls without the slightest flicker of emotion. "This is the hundredth, and I just don't have it in me to keep doing this anymore…"

I was slow by nature, always a beat behind in matters of love. It was Julian who loved me, who took me exactly as I was, who married me against everyone's objections. I thought I was the luckiest woman alive. Until the fifth year of our marriage, when I stumbled onto the secret between Julian and my sister. They'd been carrying on behind my back for a long time. They'd even had the gall to make a baby together. He ruffled my hair, gentle as ever, his voice soft and doting. "I've fallen for your sister. The same way I once fell for you." "You could be generous about it. Accept her. Accept us." Every drop of blood in me seemed to freeze, and the tears wouldn't stop. I didn't scream. I didn't fall apart. I just shut the door and walked away. But Julian was the one who lost his mind. Six months later, when I still assumed the two of them were long since married with a baby, he was the one crying, begging me not to leave, like a dog begging for scraps.

My best friend, Maya, flew in from Miami for my bachelorette week. My last days of freedom. She insisted on a girls' night in to celebrate, ordering all my favorite takeout. She asked me to hold her mobile phone and wait.Then her phone lit up. A message from some guy. A shirtless pic. Text: I need you tonight. Another photo buzzed through. Sex toys. Bondage gear straight out of a movie. My face burned. My heart hammered against my ribs. I’d just stumbled into her secret life. But the next image made my blood run cold. A close-up of the man's chest. A jagged scar I knew better than my own reflection. It belonged to my fiancé, Luciano Carbone.

On June nineteenth—the day my boyfriend and I had planned to get our marriage license—he vanished without a word. It wasn't until that night that I stumbled across a post on his social media. He'd forgotten to block me from seeing it. "From twenty to twenty-eight, our youth: signed, sealed, delivered." The photo attached showed two marriage certificates. In the wedding picture beside it, a girl I didn't recognize leaned into his shoulder, beaming. Furious, I opened the comments to demand an explanation, and found my best friend's message waiting there instead. [Congratulations to the old flames who finally found their way back to each other!] My chest went tight. My hands shook as I called her. After a long silence, she finally told me the truth. "Yeah. They've been together for eight years. Everyone already knew. We didn't hide it to hurt you. We were just scared you'd make a scene. "Alice and Chase were always the better match. It wasn't easy for them to get to where they are today. Why make things hard on another woman? Just be the bigger person." The tears that fell were cold as ice, but where they landed, they burned straight through me. Twelve years together, and for eight of them, Chase Peterson had loved someone else. Everyone had known. They'd just all agreed to keep it from me.

There were only two seats left at the company dinner. One was in the corner, and the other was beside my secret boyfriend of three years, Julian Locke. I had barely taken a step forward when Julian called out to my best friend, Capri Leigh. "Capri, sit here." My coworkers immediately squealed with excitement. The group chat went wild too. "They look so good together. Just seeing them sitting next to each other is a treat!" "Has Mr. Locke ever asked someone to sit with him before?" "I bet he's got a thing for Capri. I don't care. I'm shipping them anyway!" Throughout the dinner, Julian avoided even looking at me to keep people from getting suspicious. Even when a server burned my hand while bringing out a dish, he was still taking Capri's drinks for her. At that moment, one thought suddenly hit me. I didn't want to stay in this secret relationship anymore.

It was the last stop on my pre-wedding trip with my fiance, Kieran Rose. I'd stopped at a scenic overlook to take a few pictures, but when I returned, Kieran's car was nowhere to be found. I called him right away, but he didn't answer. I wandered around the park three times, trying to find a way out, only to end up even more lost. As I began to panic, I realized that my best friend, Leah Lowe, had posted something on Instagram. "Best guy friend ever! Free ride, free trip, and a personal photographer. He's a 10 out of 10!" She'd uploaded a whole carousel of photos, every single one taken by Kieran. I zoomed in on the background of one of them and realized they were already in the next town over. Kieran and I had been together for seven years, and somehow, every date we'd ever gone on had ended with Leah tagging along. Apparently, even our honeymoon was no exception. Just then, a text from Kieran popped up. "I stopped to grab some water. Where did you wander off to take pictures this time? Hurry up and get back in the car." I stared at the message for a few seconds, then laughed. He still hadn't realized I'd been out of the car for five hours.

When my best friend’s husband beat her, my boyfriend and I drove over a thousand miles through the night to get her out. We worked perfectly together. I threw the punches. He blocked the door. My best friend froze for a second, then jumped right into the fight with us. On the drive home, the three of us took one look at the bruises and scratches covering our faces and burst out laughing. But as she laughed, tears began streaming down her cheeks. “You two better not break up. If you do, who am I supposed to choose?” Ryan rolled his eyes from behind the wheel. “We’re doing just fine, thanks. We’re not breaking up. You should worry about yourself.” From that day on, Maya lived with me. I looked after her, helped her get back on her feet, and encouraged her to start a new life. Whenever Ryan saw me fussing over her, he’d jab a finger against my forehead. “Sophie, do you even remember that I’m your boyfriend?” Then I returned from a three-month business trip and found a pink beaded charm hanging in Ryan’s car. No matter how many times I asked, he refused to tell me who had made it for him. My expression hardened. “We’re done.” Then I turned to my best friend. “Come on. You’re leaving with me.” But her face went pale. Instead of coming to me, she walked toward Ryan.

On my way to the interview, my best friend—who had always warned me not to meddle in other people’s business—suddenly rushed toward the crashed luxury car without hesitation. That was when I knew she had been reborn too. In our previous life, she and I were known as the two top aces of the Finance Department. After graduation, we both made it to the final interview at one of the world’s top five hundred companies. On the day of that interview, we encountered a terrible car accident. The company’s president was inside the wreck. I gave up the interview to save him, while my friend ran straight to the interview without looking back. In the end, she got the offer, and I lost my chance at the prestigious firm. Everyone pitied me. However, the president held a grand wedding to repay me. I became the wife of my friend’s boss. I was admired and envied by all. She, on the other hand, struggled under endless performance targets. She got buried by work. At the company’s annual gala, I stood beside the president, dazzling under the lights, while she faded into the crowd—exhausted and invisible. Jealousy drove her mad. She grabbed a knife and stabbed me right there at the gala. When I opened my eyes again, she and I had both returned to the day of the president’s car accident.

On the night of the Blood Moon Pack's grand ceremony, my Alpha fiancé Ethan solemnly announced before all pack members that we would soon complete our lifelong marking. The pack's blessings surged toward us like a tide. My face flushed red as I pressed against his strong chest, which carried the scent of pine. Suddenly, a figure blocked the moonlight at the temple entrance. Ivy, my friend who had vanished five years ago, stepped inside, accompanied by a pup with eyes like stars. Ignoring everyone's gaze, she walked straight toward us. Her collar slowly slipped down, revealing a deep Alpha bite mark on her neck. Under the moonlight, that mark was as shocking as a brand. "Lucas, come to meet your father."

At my engagement party, my fiancee's male best friend pulled my pants down in front of over 500 guests. I desperately grabbed my belt and demanded to know what the hell he thought he was doing. He thought I was making a fuss over nothing. "I just wanted to see what color underwear you're wearing." As he spoke, he held up the Besties Chat Group, which included my fiancee, Justine Severin. A poll was underway. "What color underwear will Henry Banks be wearing today?" There were eight people in the group, and seven had voted. Justine only replied, "Cut it out." I froze, then turned in disbelief toward my impeccably dressed fiancee standing behind me. Justine frowned. "Everyone was just messing around to liven things up. Don't take it seriously." She turned back and continued chatting and laughing with the other guests as if nothing had happened. At that moment, I suddenly realized just how rotten the woman standing before me was. I took off my engagement ring and dropped it into a champagne glass. "Let's call off the engagement."

I had a habit. Whenever I had a meal, watched a movie, or took a cab ride, I would always save an empty seat next to me. I believed that Theo Anderson would suddenly appear in the city I lived in to surprise me. However, throughout our long-distance relationship for the past three years, he never visited me. Not even once. I hence prepared our wedding by myself, and I fell sick because of that. My hands were trembling when I sent him a text message. [I’m having a high fever, and I don’t have any medicine at home.] Half an hour later, he responded. [So? What do you want me to do? Do you want me to grow wings and fly over to your place with medicine? I’m still reviewing a proposal. You should just contact the delivery services.] I could not even lift my fingers because of the fever, so I slowly drifted into unconsciousness. When I woke up, I saw my best friend, Eleanor Reid, with teary eyes. She passed a glass of water and a pill to me. “You’re too patient with him, that’s why he’s bullying you. If it were me, I would’ve already thrown a fit.” Two weeks later, Eleanor also had a high fever, so I immediately wanted to rush over to take care of her. However, she posted a photo online, and there was a man’s hand holding a spoon in the photo. [I’m sick, but thankfully there is a knight in shining armor who flew over 500 miles to take care of me.] I recognized that hand. Theo was wearing a watch that I had bought him after saving up for six months. I suddenly understood that it was not because he was busy that he could not be by my side. It was because he did not want to come over. Since that was the case, I no longer had the need to save an empty seat for him anymore.

When I went to return my engagement ring, the jeweler asked me why. Right in front of her, I slid it onto my finger. It caught at the second knuckle and wouldn't go any farther. "You can see for yourself. This isn't my size." The jeweler went pale and offered to resize it on the spot. I shook my head, my voice eerily calm. "You can fix the ring size. You can't fix the shoe size. And you definitely can't fix the wedding dress." Everything about my wedding to Charles Garth was mine in name only — my name was on the invitation as the bride, and that was as far as it went. Every time I asked him to come try on the dress with me, he'd keep his eyes on his laptop and answer without looking up. "I'm busy. I already know your measurements. I gave them to the boutique myself. "Just show up and be the bride. Everything's already handled." But three days before the wedding, what I got was a ring that wouldn't fit and a dress I couldn't wear. The shoes, the gloves, the garter — every single piece was sized for my best friend. Something I'd been holding onto for a long time finally gave out, and it left a hole in my chest. Charles frowned, still trying to talk me into it. "It's just a ceremony. You two are so close — would it really be so bad if Maia stood in for you at the altar?" I didn't say anything. I didn't refuse, either. I just thought — maybe it wouldn't be so bad to swap out the groom instead.

Before she passed away, my best friend begged me to meet her online boyfriend in person. “Zia, please love him for me. This is my final wish.” I promised her I would. After meeting Greyson in person, we dated for three years before finally getting married. Three years into our marriage, Greyson held my late best friend’s hand and looked at me coldly. “Let’s get a divorce. I won’t hold a grudge against you for stealing Scarlett’s place to meet me.” I stared at them, completely paralyzed by disbelief. “You lied to me... You’re alive…” With tear-brimming eyes, Scarlett said, “Zia, this happiness was supposed to belong to Greyson and me from the very beginning. Please, just let go.” Refusing to give up, I desperately tried to explain the truth to Greyson. But he only sneered at me. “You’re nothing but a thief and a liar.” Driven to the brink of madness, I tried everything to tear them apart. I made scenes at his corporate office, exposed them to the media, and tore up the divorce papers he shoved in my face time after time. But Greyson controlled the media narrative. Under his manipulation, the public branded me a lunatic, a hysteric, and a thief. My love for him was finally stripped away to nothing. When he handed me the divorce papers for the ninety-eighth time, I calmly took the pen and signed my name.

Someone texted me halfway through the wedding. The message read, "I had sex with your husband. Doesn't matter if you don't believe it." The message hit me like a hammer, and I stood petrified. Then, the texter sent another message, "Second pocket on the inside of his coat. There's a used condom there from last night. Strawberry. We were setting up the room, and one thing led to another. "We did it everywhere. Balcony, kitchen, and even in your car. He's not allergic to women. He'd gladly sleep with someone before marriage. He lied to you." Everything began to spin. I walked ahead, but my movements felt stiff. I felt as if someone was yanking me forward. I approached the aloof, abstinent man I called my husband. The same man who had to think twice before holding my hand. Sure enough, I found a pink condom in his pocket. Gasps and shouts rippled across the hall, while flashes of camera blazed and blinded the scene. I spun on my heel. That was when I saw my best friend Zoe holding up her phone beneath the stage, a gentle smile hanging on her lips. Something bitter and sad filled my heart. It took me standing here, utterly humiliated, to realize that the very thing I spent my whole life fighting for was nothing but a joke.

In the seventh year of our secret relationship, Alex Timbers became the hero pilot the whole country was talking about. His flight had run into extreme weather. Somehow, on nerve and skill alone, he'd brought the plane down safely. I watched the livestream the whole time, crying so hard I could barely stand. Then, ten minutes later, during an on-site interview at the airport, a three-year-old boy ducked under the barricade and threw himself into Alex's arms, sobbing and calling him Dad. Right behind him came my best friend, Natalie Wilde, her eyes red. In front of the entire country, Alex pulled them both into his arms. Before I could even process it, two more familiar faces appeared on screen. My mother, Susan Healey, hugged Natalie, her voice breaking. "It's over now, Natalie. Alex made it back alive. You and the boy finally have someone to lean on." My father, Dale Healey, clapped Alex on the shoulder, beaming. "Your family of three is whole again. Nothing beats that." In that instant, every drop of blood in my body ran cold. Over the past seven years, I'd had three miscarriages because of Alex. Each time, he'd held me and sworn, eyes red, "Mary, for your reputation, I can't let you have a child out of wedlock. Once I make captain, we'll get married." I laughed until the laughter turned into tears, blurring my vision. It wasn't just Alex. My parents had been standing with them the whole time. I'd been the only one left waiting, seven years, in a place no one could see. I typed out in the livestream's comment section: [Congratulations.]

At the pack celebration, my Alpha boyfriend walked right past me and invited my best friend, Serena, to dance. "You can't dance. I didn't want you making a fool of yourself in front of everyone. If you're tired, go sit over there and get some rest." He spoke words of concern, but they wounded me deeply. He had no idea I'd spent a whole month practicing for tonight's dance, that I'd lost count of how many times I'd fallen, or that my legs were covered in bruises. Before I could protest, the two of them were already gliding across the dance floor. They danced like they'd completely forgotten I existed. This wasn't the first time Nathan had ignored me because of Serena. I didn't make a scene. I just quietly left the banquet hall. That night, I booked my flight ticket and submitted my application to leave the pack. I had once followed him to this distant pack because I loved him. Now that the love was gone, I could just as easily walk away.

On the first day of our honeymoon, Dante Moretti, the Mafia Don I had just married, and his childhood sweetheart left me at a gas station. They had driven for twenty minutes before realizing I wasn’t in the car. When he called, panic filled his voice. “Ariana, why didn’t you get back in? I thought you were in the back seat.” Bianca’s voice came clearly through the phone. “She isn’t a child, Dante. You don’t have to turn around for her.” I laughed bitterly. I had lost count of how many times he had left me behind for his childhood sweetheart. When I remained silent, irritation crept into his voice. “Don’t start, Ariana. I’ve sent one of the guards to pick you up. Just wait for the guard.” In the past, I would have forgiven him and waited. But this time, I didn’t want to. I canceled the rest of our honeymoon and removed the wedding ring I had worn for less than three days. Then I called my father for the first time in five years. “Father, I want to come home.” His voice trembled. “Ariana, the Bellini family has been waiting for you.”

I'm Roxanne Parker, and I'm currently smashing fire hydrants in a mall while a crowd of onlookers live-streams my rampage online. In less than ten minutes, the news of what I've done skyrockets up the trending topics. The incident catches everyone off guard, and before anyone can intervene, I've already destroyed the fire hydrants on three entire floors within the span of an hour. Once I'm done, I head up to the mall's rooftop to clear my head. When the police surround me, people online and onlookers cheer loudly. I also let out a breath of relief. "You're finally here. I've been waiting for you for a long time." I'm only doing this because, in my previous life, I took the fall for my coworker, Jasmine Powell, and my boyfriend, Callum Fisher. Both of them reported me for stealing gold bars from the bank on the day I was on duty, landing me behind bars. I spent my entire life working myself to the bone, only to have the person closest to me stab me in the back. My parents, Robert Parker and Margot Spencer, had lived their entire lives as law-abiding citizens. Yet, in their twilight years, they were branded as the parents of a criminal, dying with their names dragged through the mud. When the news of their death reached me in prison, I cried until I went blind. The moment I was released, Jasmine and Callum ran me over with a car and took my life. When I open my eyes again, I'm back on the very day they accuse me of transferring the bank's gold bars. Since they're capable of fabricating evidence to frame me for theft, I'll create an alibi that will rock the entire city.

A month before our wedding, I couldn't sleep. I picked up my fiancé's phone and found a password-protected album. I hesitated for a moment, then opened it. The album was packed with hundreds of photos, all of the same person. There were shots of her posing at Yosemite, drinking coffee outside the office, even one of her... asleep. My heart went cold. I didn't just know this woman. I knew her well. She was my best friend, Mia Porter. Tears were already streaming down my face. Eight years together. I'd been by Julian Hale's side from when he was a photography assistant all the way to becoming an established photojournalist. He never once took a photo of me, and even when I asked, he always refused. I thought he was sticking to some kind of professional principle. Turns out, the person he wanted to photograph just wasn't me. Just then, my phone buzzed. An account I'd turned on post notifications for had updated. Mia had updated her Instagram: "My favorite photographer finally agreed to take me to France! Can't wait for all the gorgeous shots. Any ideas for cute matching outfits with a European vibe?" I sat there in a daze for a long time before I quietly got up, slipped off my engagement ring, and booked a flight home. Eight years. I was finally free from walking on eggshells, terrified of crossing his so-called principles. Finally free from waiting at home, ready to cook him a hot meal the moment he walked through the door. If there was no room for me behind his lens, then I would step into a world without him and live a life that was truly my own.

While taking photos at the tourist attraction, I moved around three or four times to find the best angle. I aimed the camera at my boyfriend, Shawn Jacobson, and called out three times, "Hey, look this way." He seemed unable to hear me. His eyes were fixed on something in the distance instead. Then Nadia Sparks, my best friend, fumbled for her phone and called out to him, "Look at the camera!" He immediately struck a pose and smiled tenderly into her camera. A young couple saw the photos on Nadia's phone and teased her, "Wow, your boyfriend must really love you. You can see it in his eyes!" Nadia's face instantly turned bright red, and Shawn cleared his throat awkwardly. I looked down at my camera and saw that I had only captured a third of his profile. It looked like a paparazzi shot. Ever since we were kids, they had always ignored me. The two of them acted like I never had an opinion. As teenagers, they always excitedly picked where we would go, assuming I'd just follow along. When we grew up, the two of them decided to study medicine. They never bothered to ask what I wanted and signed me up for a medical program too. Later, they became the ER's dream team, while all my hard work only earned me a place as just a nurse. When I looked up, they were already walking side by side toward the next spot for photos. They probably expected me to just follow them, but I turned around and walked in the opposite direction. All this time, I had always stayed one step behind them. But even I had a day when I no longer wanted to follow them.