Melodramatic Short Stories & Bias Marriage Novels

In the fifth year of my marriage to Raymond Lowe, Lilian Smith, the woman he had never been able to forget, returned. From that moment on, cracks began to form in our marriage. Raymond started breaking his promises. The first time was the day I won a major design award. He had promised to take me out and celebrate. Instead, a single phone call from Lilian was enough to make him leave. The second time was on my birthday. The candles had been lit, and I had not even made a wish yet when Lilian called. Once again, he walked out without hesitation. The third time was Valentine's Day. I sat alone in the private dining room I had reserved, waiting for Raymond for four hours. He never showed up. Later that night, I saw Lilian's post on social media. Raymond was with her, standing on a bridge beneath the stars. The fourth time was our wedding anniversary. That was the night I became the laughingstock of Liberty City. The humiliation was so public that there was not a single person in the city who did not know about it. I sat alone in a nursing home that evening when a message from Lilian appeared on my phone. After reading it, I walked into the operating room without looking back and terminated the pregnancy. In that moment, I also took back the love I had once given Raymond. Raymond, it was only because I loved you that you were able to hurt me again and again. However, the moment I stopped loving you, you became nothing to me.

Over the weekend, my wife, Madeline Puth, invited her coworker, Kenneth Wilson, over for dinner. When the three of us reached the front door, Kenneth casually pressed his finger to the fingerprint lock. The door clicked open. I froze and stared at him. Madeline glanced at me and said as if it were the most natural thing in the world, "He's been here a few times before. He registered his fingerprint for convenience." Kenneth smiled at me. I returned his smile without a word. Then I walked inside, grabbed my bag, and headed straight for the door. Madeline hurried after me. "Where are you going?" I pulled the door open. "I'm clearly not the man of this house anymore, so of course I'm leaving."

My husband, Caleb Price, and I, Sienna Hart, have been married for many years. Our relationship is going strong, and our son, Tobey, is thoughtful and kind. I've always believed we would spend our whole lives together. What I don't expect is that Caleb would hurt me and Tobey three times because of the same woman. The first time, we agree to celebrate Tobey's birthday, but Caleb forgets his promise because he has to pick up his first love, Lila Monroe, from the airport. When I return home from a business trip, all I find is my heartbroken son. The second time, Caleb secretly takes our son and Lila to the amusement park. He doesn't know that Tobey is allergic to peanuts, and he ends up in the hospital. The third time, Caleb repeatedly promises to pick Tobey up from school alone, but when Caleb hears that Lila is ill, he tells Tobey to go home by himself. On the way home, Tobey is kidnapped. After he's rescued, he spends three days in the hospital in critical condition before pulling through. Each time, Caleb apologizes with utmost sincerity and swears that there won't be a next time. Maybe he's forgotten, but I once told him that I'd only forgive him three times. So, when he finishes apologizing and thinks life will return to the happy days it was before… It doesn't. Yes, I forgive him, but I'm also taking Tobey and leaving him—forever.

For the first three years of our marriage, Barney Hayes and I never shared a bed. He suffered from severe sleepwalking episodes that could turn him violent. Whenever one struck, he might attack anyone nearby, even me. One night, he nearly smothered me with a pillow before finally waking up. Horrified by what he'd done, he pulled me into his arms and spoke bitterly. "Alba, I can't keep hurting you like this. Can we sleep in separate rooms from now on?" I believed his condition would haunt him for the rest of his life. Then Hailey Miller came along. Her singing could somehow calm Barney during his episodes. The moment he heard her voice, his agitation faded, and he would settle down peacefully in her arms. "Don't worry, Alba. I've got him." From then on, night after night, I watched her take my place beside my husband. Barney sounded full of guilt over the line. "Just give me a little more time. I'll find a way to replace Hailey's singing. But until I'm cured, please don't come back to the house. I'm afraid I might lose control and hurt you again." So, I waited. On our sixth wedding anniversary, I decided to surprise him. With an ice cream cake I'd spent all day making, I slipped into the closet and waited for him to come home. Then I heard Hailey's voice. "Barney, how much longer are you going to keep pretending to sleepwalk?" A soft chuckle followed. "I haven't gotten tired of hearing you moan in bed yet. What's the rush?" In the darkness, I felt the whipped cream slowly melt onto my fingers. This marriage was rotten, and I was done with him.

On our wedding day, my wife's first love, Hank Scott, threatened to slit his wrists. She ignored him and went through with the ceremony anyway, until news arrived that he was dead, his blood staining the ground. From that moment on, Shirley Lowell withdrew into a convent, becoming the cold, distant woman everyone knew. In the name of atonement, she forced me to copy the Bible a thousand times and kneel in endless prayer, grinding me down until I was crippled. Bound to a wheelchair, I asked her for a divorce. She refused, saying we owed Hank a debt and had to atone for it together. She used my family to threaten me, keeping me by her side and tormenting me for the rest of my life. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on our wedding day. This time, I chose to push her toward Hank. I would become the first love in her heart, the one who led her onto the path of devout faith.

Over three years, I called the police on Julian Prescott 188 times to force him to marry me. When he left me burning with fever to see his first love, I reported him missing. When that same woman summoned him to fix her plumbing in the middle of the night, I tipped off the vice squad. After the last trip to the police station, I asked whether he'd finally had enough of me. He was silent for a long time before answering. "I promised my father I'd take care of you. I'm going to keep that promise." Then came the day we climbed a snowy mountain together. An avalanche trapped us, and Julian shielded me with his body. A boulder crushed half of him. Feverish and close to death, I looked at him, half-dead after everything I'd put him through, and suddenly laughed. "You must hate me, Julian. I got you killed, and I tore you away from Sophie." He met my eyes, his voice calm. "Do you want the truth? I've been sick of you for years." My heart lurched. Before I could even react, he cut his wrist and pressed it to my lips, forcing me to swallow enough blood to keep me conscious. "But I'm not letting you die. Willa, I don't owe you anything anymore. In our next life, please let me go." Only after my rescue did I learn that he'd dragged his broken body through the snow, leaving a plea for help written in his own blood. I sank into severe depression. Lost in a haze, I eventually died in a car accident. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day I would have made my 189th desperate attempt to force a wedding. Julian, this time, you'll get what you asked for.

Whitney Westbrook clutches her pregnancy test results, her heart brimming with joy as she imagines how thrilled Lennox Graham will be when he finds out she's pregnant. But a little girl suddenly rushes out from around the corner, startling her. "Mommy, hurry up and divorce Daddy! He's going to get you killed!" Whitney's first thought is: Whose kid is pulling a prank on me? She manages a strained smile, then crouches down to meet Nola at eye level. "Sweetie, you've got the wrong person." "No, I don't!" Nola suddenly raises her voice. "Mommy, Daddy doesn't love you at all! He's always been in love with Winona!" Whitney's expression freezes. People in their social circle occasionally mention that Winona Sterling is the only woman Lennox ever loved in his youth. Yet everyone insists it's nothing more than a youthful infatuation, something that no longer matters. "Who are you, exactly?" Whitney's voice trembles. "My name is Nola Graham." Nola sobs so hard she can barely catch her breath. "You just found out you were pregnant when Winona got divorced. After that, Daddy devoted himself entirely to her. After you gave birth to me, your health never recovered. When I was five, you closed your eyes in your hospital bed and never opened them again." Nola throws her arms around Whitney's legs. "I made a wish at your funeral, and that's how I got here—to stop this from happening to you." Whitney takes a sudden step backward. Her rational mind tells her that none of this makes sense. A little girl suddenly shows up claiming to be your future daughter and telling you that your own husband will be the death of you. Even a novel wouldn't dare come up with a plot like that.

For five years of marriage, my husband, Caleb Sullivan, had only one rule when it came to buying household appliances: if he could get it secondhand, he would never buy it new. He had found our refrigerator on an online marketplace, picked up our washing machine from a local seller, and even complained that the robot vacuum I had spent six months waiting for at a discounted price of 300 dollars was too expensive. "We're not putting our lives on display for other people. What matters is that the machine works." I had always assumed he had grown up poor and was simply afraid of going back to those days. That was until my best friend, Yasmine Owens, moved into her new home and Caleb asked me to help her unpack her deliveries. A 500 dollars robot vacuum, a 2,000 dollars washer-dryer set, and even the coffee machine I had wanted to buy last year but could not bring myself to splurge on were all sitting in her kitchen. I stood there, stunned for a long moment. "Did you strike it rich or something?" Yasmine laughed as she unwrapped another package. "Caleb bought them for me." Caleb did not even look up. "She lives alone, so it's safer to have new appliances. You and I both know how to find good secondhand deals. There's no need to waste money." When I got home, our old washing machine, which had been leaking for a while, broke down again. I took our shared tablet to list it on the online marketplace, but when I opened the app, I discovered Caleb had forgotten to log out of his account. I tapped on his purchase history and found a total of 47 orders—every single one had been delivered to Yasmine's address. The sideboard, the floor lamp, the juicer, the old television… The first dozen or so purchases were all things Caleb had told me he had found at a bargain over the years. Things we had been using in our own home all along. As I stared at our leaking, battered washing machine, it finally dawned on me—it was not that he knew how to find good secondhand deals. He had simply been waiting for Yasmine to wear things out first.

On my final assignment of the year, I'm sent to cover dating rumors about the woman I've been secretly married to for five years. A headline claiming that Anna Green, Asteridge's famously aloof heiress, may have found true love quickly went viral. "The woman no one could win over finally made it official. I always thought she'd never marry." "Who could possibly have won her over?" Everyone gushes over her supposed new romance, unaware that she and I have been married for five years. Then Anna calls a press conference to clear up the rumors herself. Beneath the bright lights, she commands as much admiration as ever. When they call on me, I force myself to lift the microphone. My voice shakes. "Ms. Green, is there any truth to the recent rumors?" Anna looks at me for several seconds, then turns away. She locks fingers with Tyler Cooper and kisses him with every camera in the room trained on them. "Of course there is." The world around me goes silent.

"Mr. Rogers, are you sure you want to do this? Noelle is only five—" I cut the lawyer off and signed my name on the authorization form. "I am." Outside the window, rain poured down in sheets. I looked up at the office building across the street. Behind the floor-to-ceiling windows on the thirty-seventh floor, Rachel Lloyd, the president of Lloyd Group, was in a meeting. She wore a perfectly tailored white suit, her expression icy and composed. Every gesture carried the commanding presence of the queen of the business world. No one knew that this woman was my wife, at least in the eyes of the law. Even fewer people knew that we had a five-year-old daughter. It had been three years. For all three of those years, I had worked as an ordinary driver for her company, driving her to and from work every day. "Mr. Rogers, turn left. Mr. Rogers, stop here." That was all I ever heard from her. She never gave me so much as a second glance when other people were around, as if we truly were nothing more than an employer and her driver. Noelle had learned to call me ‘Dad’ when she was two, but she had never dared call Rachel ‘Mom’. Rachel had made one thing very clear. "Don't let me hear you calling me that in public." Noelle had been a good girl. She never called her Mom again. However, I knew what happened every night. She would curl up in bed, clutching the one stuffed doll Rachel had ever bought for her, and whisper into the darkness, "Goodnight, Mommy. You looked so pretty today. Will you come see me tomorrow?" Rachel had bought that doll three years ago at a convenience store on a whim. It had cost her only $29.90. To Noelle, however, it was priceless. She had held on to it like a treasure for three long years.

I went alone to my favorite singer’s concert. During the song selection segment, I was really excited and hoped that I would be lucky enough to be picked. But in the next second, I saw my husband, who was supposed to be on a business trip, appear on the screen. Next to him was Mia Louise, his first love. “I’d like to pick Back To The Past. I want to go back three years when I hadn’t broken up with Mia.” The entire stadium cheered and celebrated their love. I was the only one in tears. During the next song selection segment, I saw my teary face show up on the screen. “I’d like to pick Back To The Past as well. I want to return to the time when I never said yes to Samuel Gardner’s proposal.”

I discover that my wife's stepbrother has secretly swapped the IVF sample I had stored at the hospital. But I pretend not to know and let my wife give birth to a son. I raise their child as if he's my own. Years later, I mold him into a business prodigy and even transfer all of my company's shares to him. At the company's celebration dinner, my wife's stepbrother suddenly produces a paternity test in front of everyone and says to me, "Jon is my biological son. Give him back to me." I smile calmly. "Take him then."

Five years ago, I was nearly killed in a car accident while saving my mother-in-law. My injuries were so severe that I spent years abroad undergoing treatment and rehabilitation. The moment I landed back home, I ran into my former college roommate, Vanessa Caldwell. She and her designer-clad friends looked me up and down with open disgust. "Gianna Lott?" Vanessa stared at me. "Is that really you?" One of her friends covered her mouth and giggled. "Vanessa, why does your old roommate look like she just got out of cleaning the airport bathrooms?" Vanessa waved a hand, pretending to defend me. "Don't be rude. Then again, Gianna's mother was a housekeeper..." She paused dramatically before giving me a fake, apologetic smile. "Oh my God, Gianna. I'm so sorry. Was I not supposed to mention that?" I had no interest in entertaining them. I turned to leave, but Vanessa stepped directly into my path. "By the way, my son's first birthday party is tomorrow," she said. "We haven't seen each other in years. You absolutely have to come." I rejected, "No, thanks. I'm not interested." Her friend's expression immediately darkened. "Don't be so ungrateful. Do you even know who Vanessa married?" She leaned closer, her voice dripping with superiority. "Her husband is the heir to the most powerful family in Crownmere. Someone like you could live 10 lifetimes and still never get close to a man like him." Another woman tittered meanly. "Just look at her. She probably doesn't even own a proper dress. Gianna, should I donate one of my old ones to you?" Vanessa raised a hand, putting on another performance. "That's enough." Then, she looked at me with exaggerated pity. "Gianna, I never imagined your life would turn out this badly." She sighed. "For old times' sake, I can arrange a catering job for you at the party. You'll earn a little money and get a glimpse of how the upper class lives." Before I could refuse, she shoved an invitation into my hand. I was about to throw it away when the name listed under "Father of the Birthday Boy" caught my eye and my breath hitched. It was my husband's name, Alexander Whitmore.

At my son's tenth birthday, I unexpectedly gained the power to read minds. Standing before the candles, he made his wish. "I hope I score a hundred on my finals." Before I could commend his maturity, a second wish slammed into my ears. "I don't like Dad. I want Mr. Shaw to be my dad.'' My hands froze halfway through a clap.

Walden Scott had always thought that his relationship of six years and his friend of ten years would never betray him. That was until his best friend, Alan Jensen, had a one-night stand and ended up with a baby at his front door. Walden could not bear to see Alan bringing up a baby on his own, so he hired a nanny for Alan and visited the hospital often to help Alan take care of it, even if it meant spending sleepless nights tending to the baby. He even postponed his civil wedding with his fiancée, Rose Sinclair, several times because of Alan. However, the truth was revealed during the baby's welcome party. The baby's real mother was actually Rose, who had just returned from overseas. The worst thing was that Rose knew the truth but chose to marry Alan instead. She even gave up the baby she had with Walden so that Alan would feel safe and secure with her. They had betrayed Walden in love and friendship. They had even almost ruined Walden's career, which he had worked so hard to build. This time, Walden did not argue or create a scene. He accepted a transfer to Lunshire and left the city that had trapped him for years.

In the three years I spent unconscious in a hospital bed, Julius Carter took care of me day and night without complaint. The very first thing he did after I woke up was get down on one knee beside my hospital bed and propose. That night, while scrolling through social media, I came across a female influencer who looked strikingly similar to me. [Another date with my boyfriend today!] [He took me to an upscale restaurant for dinner and bought me the diamond ring I wanted. He's the sweetest!] The top comment read: [You're showing off so much. I bet you're just a sugar baby!] She fired back immediately with a reply. [Being a sugar baby takes skill, too. Looking like a pig won't get you that kind of treatment.] [My boyfriend is the heir to the Carter family. Another nonsense from you, and I'll have my lawyer sue you!] My breathing hitched. Since when did Julius Carter have a girlfriend? Rage overcame me, and I tapped on her profile, ready to send her a private message. That was when I noticed a post pinned to the top of her page. The photo showed a pair of long, elegant hands placing food onto someone's plate across the table, and on the back of that hand were two small moles. They were the exact same two moles Julius had.

When a turbulence strikes an airplane that's tens of thousands of miles above ground, the pilot, Kevin Glover, uses the opportunity to confess his love for the co-pilot, Serena Burke. Both of them come clean about their feelings for each other, not knowing that Kevin's wife, Henley Johnstone is on the plane as well. The brimming affection in Kevin's tone hurts her ears. "Serena, I'll marry you." At the same time, Henley's son, Isaac Glover, who sits in the row in front of her, pipes up in a disgusted tone, "My mom isn't worthy of remaining as my mom. I want Serena to be my mom instead." Henley feels crushed and defeated. Sorrow overwhelms her senses as well. Once the plane overcomes the crisis and lands on the tarmac, she calls her assistant, Edith Pratt. "I want to sign up as the test subject of the death-faking pill. I don't want my husband and son anymore." Henley sets the date of her death on her wedding anniversary. Once all preparations are done, she takes the death-faking pill. When she wakes up, she'll embrace her new life. Some time later, when Kevin finds out about Henley's death, he wails like a madman.

The day I catch my fiancée, Autumn Freeman, in bed with another man, the guy on top of her deliberately slashes his own face. Autumn throws herself in front of him, refusing to budge. Even as I fall apart right there, she refuses to let me get a clear look at his face. She turns to me, her voice breaking as she pleads through her tears. "This is all my fault. I'll spend the rest of my life making it up to you. I only ask that you leave him alone, Clark Ballard." After that day, Autumn gives up her privacy. She hands me her phone every day and installs hidden cameras in her car herself. Even when patients text her, I grill her about it. She accepts everything without complaint, doing whatever it takes just to win me back. But when I go to pick up my suit three days before our wedding, the clerk gives me a puzzled look. "Mr. Ballard, you already picked up your suit this morning. I just came across a video of your wedding online." In the video she pulls up, Autumn's close friends, who were calling me Autumn's husband just yesterday, are handing rings to the newlyweds. Our mutual friends are standing right there, too, and Autumn looks absolutely radiant with happiness. Blushing, she gazes at the groom and softly calls out to him. "Kev." Hearing the groom's name, along with seeing a face that looks exactly like mine, leaves me rooted to the spot.

An hour into our daughter Nora Cadwell's graduation party, my husband, Samuel Cadwell, still hasn't shown up. More than a hundred calls go unanswered, and every message I send him gets the same automated reply. "On my way." Nora stands to give her speech five different times, only to sit back down again. She keeps her head down and nervously twists the hem of her dress. She just can't bring herself to say the words, "I'd like to thank my parents." When I finally run out of patience and leave the hall, I find Samuel in the hall just next door. He's standing shoulder to shoulder with his widowed first love, Riley Jackson, while her son—whose grades pale in comparison to Nora's—finishes his speech. "I'd like to thank my mom and dad!" Raymond Cooper says with a wide grin on his face. Samuel slips an arm around Riley's shoulders and gives him an approving nod. The room erupts in applause. While I quietly watch them from the side, something inside me finally gives way. I turn and walk back to Nora's graduation party. "He's not coming, sweetheart. Go up there and say what you really want to say," I tell her. I smooth the sadness from her smile with my thumb and whisper, "Remember what we talked about before? You have my full support. Let's do it your way."

At eight months pregnant, Esther Rivera went to the mall to buy a duffle bag and stock up on supplies she would need when she went into labor. She was once again mistaken for a mistress and was assaulted by Summer Moreno. To protect the baby in her belly, she could not fight back at all. Summer grabbed her hair and slapped her several times, even nearly tearing off her clothes. At her wit’s end, Esther called the police. Both of them were taken to the police station. Each of them claimed to be Jasper Clarke’s wife The police officer, John Hayward, called Jasper to verify the truth. When Jasper learned about this, he went to the police station. Summer swiftly took out a mirror to touch up her makeup before looking at Esther smugly and saying, “Esther, do you think Jasper will say I’m his wife just to protect me? “I bet he will.”