Historias cortas de Plot Twists y novelas con Childhood Sweethearts ambientadas en Marriage

My husband Julian Mercer had been gone from Seattle for nearly a year, following his ex-girlfriend and first love's family across Europe while her father was treated. When he came back, he made me breakfast, waited for me after work, showed off our relationship in public, and took care of everything, as though nothing had happened. But I kept pulling away. Friends asked why I wouldn't give us another chance. For me, love had no room for cracks. During the days when his indecision left me neglected and hurt, what we had between us had already begun to fade. What no one else knew was that we'd had a child. When my accident happened, he was still busy taking care of his ex. I lost the baby. But when I set the divorce papers in front of him, he fought to keep me like a man losing his mind.

I worked super hard during Cyber Monday and pulled in 20 million dollars in sales, only for my wife, Chelsea Abbott, to credit it to her childhood sweetheart, who had just returned from studying overseas. I was so furious that I confronted her, but she clung to Donald Dixon's arm and said righteously, "Donald just got back, and he doesn't have a solid footing yet. What's wrong with my helping him establish some authority? Are you really going to argue with me over this?" I swallowed it. But at the year-end conference, Donald actually pointed right at my face in front of the entire company and yelled, "I produced these results myself. You're just a deadweight living off your wife. You don't even deserve to be here! Keeping parasites like you in the company is a total waste of resources!" My performance was used to build his reputation, and this was how he repaid me? I turned to look at Chelsea, but she didn't even spare me a glance. Instead, she announced to everyone, "Donald's right. The industry's moving fast, and Will really can't keep up anymore. Starting tomorrow, all of his responsibilities will be taken over by Donald!" Faced with everyone's eager, gossipy stares, I didn't make a scene. Last night, the industry leader the company had been desperate to flatter just sent me an offer letter. Since Chelsea was determined to fight side by side with her childhood sweetheart, this was where we would end.

In those eight terrifying seconds when the plane dropped into darkness, my first thought was how devastated Lucas would be if I never made it to the airport. However, after surviving and landing safely, what greeted me instead…was a photo he shared with his childhood sweetheart, the two of them smiling on a hike. The caption read: [Here's to still being wild with you at sixty.] If it had been before, I probably would have blown up his phone, demanding an explanation and picking a fight. However, then, after brushing so close to death, I just felt… tired.. So I typed out a message: [Let's get a divorce.]

When my mother asked me who I wanted to marry, this time, I chose none of them. Instead, I decided to go to the Northwest and serve my country. In my previous life, both my childhood friend, once a captain, and my educated fiancé courted me. I had feelings for both. But while I was still struggling to decide who I wanted as my husband, both accidentally ingested something. In a dazed state, I spent a chaotic night. After that, my parents asked one of the men to marry me. On the wedding day, the first love in both their hearts, the woman they had always truly loved, found out the truth. Out of spite, she accepted a local thug’s proposal. After marrying him, she was forced to give birth to ten children, one after another, until she died tragically. After her death, both men grabbed me by the throat and asked, “Why did she have to die such a miserable death, while you’re still alive and well?” They strangled me to death. When I opened my eyes again, I was back to the day when my childhood friend and my fiancé had been drugged.

At my coming-of-age party, Dad told me to choose one of the three boys I had grown up with to marry into the family. The first to step back was my childhood friend, the boy who had grown up with me in the orphanage. The second was the bodyguard’s son, who had once taken three knife wounds for me. He shook his head without hesitation. As for the man I was supposed to marry through a family alliance, the same man who had held me just yesterday and promised he would never marry anyone but me, he looked at me with open ridicule. “Mr. Deen, isn’t this a bit too much? Everyone knows Emma was kidnapped for more than ten years. Those kidnappers were insane. Who knows what they might’ve done? I’m not about to marry damaged goods. If you’re really serious about an alliance, why not marry your other daughter, Isabella, to me instead? Someone like Emma is only suited for men who live in the shadows.” He glanced around the room, then pulled a boy from the corner—a quiet young man who had been standing there with his head lowered. Together with the other two, he laughed as they shoved me straight into the boy’s arms. “What a perfect match!” one of them jeered. “The used goods and a bastard son!” What was supposed to be a grand ceremony to choose my husband turned into a public humiliation for me alone. Later, they told me the reason they had done it was all part of a little game with Isabella. “As long as Bella is happy, we can honor our promises to you afterward.” They all assumed I would do what I had always done before—swallow the humiliation and shamelessly continue following them around. However, this time, I didn’t want to humiliate myself anymore, because I was indeed getting married, and the groom was the very man they pushed into my arms earlier that night. As for Isabella and their little game, I wasn’t playing along anymore.

At the welcome-home party for Geoffrey Flaig’s childhood sweetheart, Melinda Sommer, his friends started a game of Spin the Bottle. The first few rounds were harmless. They were only changing their profile pictures into ugly photos of themselves, kissing the person next to them, or confessing to the person they hated the most. When the bottle landed on Selena Brodie, they pulled out the divorce papers between her and Geoffrey and dared her to sign them. “Selena, we dare you to sign it!” She stayed motionless for a long time. She just stared at the line where he had already signed his name. The signature looked bold and flamboyant, and the ink had long since dried. Seeing this, Melinda stood up and pointed at the bottle of strong liquor on the table. “Selena, if you’re too chicken, chug this bottle.” Everyone at the table knew that Selena was allergic to alcohol. Even Geoffrey, who had always been protective of her and had never let her touch a single drop, looked at her with a frown and said, “It’s just a game. Don’t be a spoilsport.”

As soon as I got my driver's license, I immediately went to the hospital to have my corneas removed. In my previous life, on the first day of the semester, my boyfriend's childhood friend secretly took my car and drove three other students to a shopping mall near the college. She sped through red lights and killed a pregnant woman and an elderly person. However, the three students testified that I was the one who ran those people over and then fled the scene. When the police arrested me, I desperately explained that it was her who was driving the car. However, she threw herself into my boyfriend's arms and said with great grievance, "Jade, I know you don't like me, but you can't frame me like that!" Fred took out the dashcam from my car. The video showed that I was the one driving the car, killing the people, and fleeing in a panic. "Instead of repenting, you're trying to push the blame onto someone else." After seeing this, the victim's family members were enraged and stabbed me 18 times. When I opened my eyes again, I had returned to the day before my boyfriend's childhood friend took my car.

My wife, Abby Wright, is a top-tier venture capitalist who measures everything and everyone in terms of return on investment (ROI). If something promises a high return, she pours her heart into it. Anything under 20% gets tossed aside. On our fifth anniversary, she assessed our relationship at a 10% ROI. That same night, she dropped millions of dollars to host an art exhibition for her childhood friend, Edward Dawson, citing an 80% return. When Mom was rushed to the ER with a sudden heart attack, Abby calculated her survival ROI at 15%. She left me stranded all night just to fly overseas with Edward to chase the aurora—a trip she rated at a 90% return. The breaking point comes when my PhD research team gets trapped while mountain climbing and I injure my leg. With rescue teams too far away, we desperately need Abby to deploy her company's helicopter. But she coldly refuses over the phone. "A single helicopter flight costs hundreds of thousands. What kind of return can a bunch of broke students like you actually give me?" Weak from hunger, I plead, "We're completely out of food and water. We're going to starve." She snaps impatiently, "Edward's cat is a rare, award-winning breed worth a fortune. If it freezes to death, can you afford to pay for it?" As I suffer through dehydration and starvation, waiting for help that never comes, I scroll past a new post from Edward. "Turns out kitty was just hiding under the couch, but she dropped a multi-million dollar deal anyway, calling this her best investment yet." The photo shows Abby gently stroking the cat. Turns out ROI assessments were always just an excuse. The truth is, she just doesn't love me. As the sun dips below the horizon, I dial the one number I've avoided for a year. "Professor Buckner, I'll join that classified national project you mentioned."

When the fire trapped me, my Alpha mate, Graeme Blackwood, was throwing a birthday party for my little sister, Ayana. I was locked in the basement, trembling so violently my bones clattered against each other. When the flames first caught, I called him. Begged him. His voice was ice. "Evelyn, stop the act. It's Ayana's birthday. I'm not letting you out just so you can ruin it. Let her have her night. Once she's happy, I'll let you out." I tried to explain. With the last shred of strength I had, I called him again. He hung up on me. So I just watched. Watched the flames swallow everything.

Although Kate Hopkins and I have been in a relationship for ten years, our love for each other has never faded away in the slightest. In the past, she has declared on a podium that she will always stay devoted to me. Naturally, I've always thought that she'll be my soulmate in this lifetime. Three years ago, Kate was transferred to a research station in Althoria. When I head over to visit her, I witness her wrapping a naked young man up with a blanket. After choosing to believe Kate's side of the story, I return to the country and do everything I can to take care of her mother while waiting for her return. Little do I know that this is just a huge lie. Just like that, my ten-year relationship has gone down the drain. Ten years seem like a short time—as short as a cicada's lifespan while it chirps through the summer. The polar night might seem like a long time—so long that a passionate relationship carved into my flesh and bones can be erased. But no matter how long the night is, there will always be an end to it. When dawnlight shines onto my world, it still remains intact even at Kate's absence.

The day before Simon Miles and I were set to get engaged, he told me his true love was his childhood sweetheart. He secretly booked plane tickets for himself and her to travel abroad. For eight years, I would spend one day each year at the Capital Hotel. That was where my engagement to Simon was supposed to happen. Everyone thought I could not move on from him. Eight years later, he returned to the country with his childhood sweetheart for his career. He had learned that a tycoon’s mother, Laurel Windsor, loved dining at the Capital Hotel, so he immediately bought her a gift to curry favor. The moment he handed Laurel the gift, he saw me standing beside her. He frowned and snapped. “It’s been eight years, Clara. Why are you still clinging to me? You knew I was coming back, so you rushed over, didn’t you? “Listen here. I’m back for business. If you ruin this deal for me, I’ll make you pay!” I was baffled. Oh, so he still did not know why I was here. Laurel was my mother-in-law, and it was her birthday today. Every year, I would dine with her at the Capital Hotel for her birthday.

"Are you sure you want this?" The witch slid the vial across the table. "Once I cast the unbinding spell, your Fated Mate connection will dissolve over ten days. On the tenth day, it's permanent. No reversals." I didn't hesitate. "Your name?" She picked up her pen. "Mara Voss." Her hand froze. Everyone in New York's vampire community knew that name. Conrad Levin — the Prince of the New York Dominion, an eight-hundred-year-old monster who had never shown a flicker of attachment to anything — had three years ago announced to the entire supernatural world that he'd found his Fated Mate. A human girl carrying the rarest blood type in existence. Golden blood. Her name was Mara Voss. I held out my wrist. The witch began her work. I opened my phone and booked a one-way ticket to Prague. Departing in exactly ten days. This time, Conrad would never find me.

Everyone calls me shameless, accusing me of using underhanded tactics to seduce Benjamin Sterling and get into his bed. But they don't know the truth. Benjamin marries me only because it gives him an excuse to see my older sister, Rebecca Beaumont, every single day while pretending to love me. I finally reach my breaking point and tear our engagement agreement to pieces. "I'm not marrying Benjamin anymore. I'm marrying his uncle, Louis Sterling, instead." My mother turns pale with shock. "Queenie! Louis has been disabled for years! If this were ancient times, he'd practically be a eunuch!" My heart is completely numb. "Mom, it doesn't matter who I marry anymore."

In my fourth year as a substitute bride for my runaway sister, married to King Alpha Kieran Ashworth, I became pregnant with his child. When I sought the High Priestess at the sacred temple to perform the "Protective Blessing Ritual" for our unborn pup, I was devastated to learn: "You and Alpha Kieran have never established a true mate bond. I cannot perform the blessing ritual." The soul truly connected to him was my half-sister, Isabella Morgrave. Isabella suddenly returned, claiming to suffer from "Luna's Eclipse",a werewolf affliction spoken of in whispered terror, with only three full moons remaining. To fulfill Isabella's dying wish, Kieran held a mating ceremony with her. At Isabella's birthday banquet, a blood curse appeared, and everyone believed it was cast by my jealousy. They imprisoned me in an obsidian cage that absorbed moonlight energy and purified me with "demon-breaking blood," causing me to miscarry and lose our child. When I discovered Isabella's illness was fabricated and all the framing was her elaborate scheme, I decided to leave. However, when the truth came to light, Kieran went completely mad...

I am the only son of the richest man in Fairmont. Before my coming-of-age, my mother selects nine girls for me, one of whom I am to marry when I turn 18. I choose Ruth Lonsdale, the girl who had grown up by my side since we were kids. But on our wedding day, Ruth secretly leaks my whereabouts to kidnappers and takes every single bodyguard my mother had assigned to protect me. After I am abducted, I call her and beg for help, but she answers with a cold laugh, "You're still acting? You had a bunch of thugs go after Jack, and I haven't gotten even with you for that yet! Anyway, I only took your bodyguards to protect him and make him feel safe. Don't make such a big deal out of it." She then hangs up. Enraged, the kidnappers stab me repeatedly before throwing my body from the rooftop. When I open my eyes again, I'm back to the day I'm supposed to choose my bride. This time, I didn't even glance at Ruth's photo. I point to the most ordinary-looking girl of them all and say, "I choose her."

During a game of truth or dare at our pre-wedding party, my fiancee, Marissa Jones, plays a game of truth-or-dare with her childhood friend, William Chase. The one who chooses dare is required to sleep with the person next to them. Alarmed by the dare, I quickly suggest, "Why don't you choose truth instead?" However, William refuses to let that happen. He eyes me scornfully and says, "I can't believe you still have such an old-fashioned mindset. I don't mind sleeping with her, so why are you making a big deal out of it?" He turns to Marissa and asks, "Will you sleep with me, Rissa?" Everyone else in the room starts egging them on. "Kyle is way too uptight. If Marissa won't do it, I will. Pick me, William, you handsome devil!" I grab Marissa's arm and try to leave with her, but she flings my hand off. "If I leave now, what about William? We're about to get married anyway, Kyle. Can't I have one night of freedom?" She climbs right onto William's lap, and the crowd cheers wildly. As I stare at Marissa and William, I know without a doubt that my relationship with Marissa has come to an end.

On my way home from work, I realized a man I didn't know was following me. I called my husband, Cassian Bellamy, for help, hoping he could come pick me up. Instead, he sent me a few cold voice messages. "Can you stop acting like you're being followed all the time? We live in a society governed by laws. Where's this creep you're talking about?" "Also, if someone really is following you, what do you think he's going to do? You're a married woman. I'm busy right now, so take a cab home yourself." I hid in the corner of a 24-hour convenience store, trembling from head to toe. It wasn't until a torrential downpour began that the creepy figure finally left. I ran home in the dark, soaked to the skin and covered in mud. The moment I got home, a post from Cassian's childhood friend, Celine Marlowe, popped up on my phone. "This is why having a childhood friend matters. I couldn't get a ride home in the rain, so he drove across half the city just to pick me up from work." The photo showed Cassian's familiar Land Rover, with a warm cup of coffee in the passenger seat. Celine's pinned location was a full 18 miles from our home. And Cassian's car would have passed right by the street where I'd called him for help. In that moment, all the strength seemed to leave my body. Maybe I didn't need this miserable marriage after all.

It was my first time going to my boyfriend’s home for the New Year. In the middle of dinner, his childhood friend suddenly slammed her spoon on the table. “Cole, how could you bring a bar girl to our New Year’s Eve dinner?” The room fell silent. Everyone thought she simply had too much to drink. But she spoke with complete confidence. “One of my friends works on the vice squad. He arrested her himself. There’s no way he got the wrong person.” She threw a police penalty notice onto the table. My name was clearly printed on it. I was stunned. Last month, the city’s vice squad had arrested dozens of people. I was the one who approved and signed those cases. I had just taken office as bureau chief.

To make my wife Chloe Bennett's dream of owning a hot-spring lodge in the snowy mountains come true, I moved in with her family and borrowed a fortune to build it. Instead, it became a free private club for her childhood sweetheart Lucas Reed, who burned through more than $1.4 million in premium ingredients over three years. Then yesterday, the suppliers showed up at our door demanding payment, and I swallowed my pride and asked Lucas to settle his tab. He grabbed the red wine bottle off the table and smashed it against me. "You freeloading piece of trash. I bring my friends here to class up this dump, and you have the nerve to bill me?" Blood slid down my cheek. My wife rushed in and went straight to check his hand. "He doesn't know any better. Why waste your temper on him? What if you'd hurt your hand? I'd have been heartbroken." I wiped the blood off my face and left the lodge without a word. Just now, Lucas sent me a voice memo: "I'm throwing an extravagant banquet at your mountain lodge. Clear out all three floors of the main cabin and make sure my friends are impressed. Do that, and I'll let bygones be bygones." Holding the bankruptcy liquidation and receivership agreement I'd just picked up from the law firm, I smiled at my phone and replied, "Sure. Just be there on time."

On the heavy traffic road rushing my father to the hospital due to a cerebral hemorrhage, we ran into my husband, who was directing traffic as a police officer. My mother was about to wind the window down and beg him for help, but I immediately stopped her and decisively turned the steering wheel, taking a narrow side road instead. In my previous life, at this exact situation, after a brief moment of hesitation, my husband had chosen to clear a path for us and personally escorted my father to the hospital. That very night, his childhood sweetheart, out of spite because he hadn't answered her calls, turned on the gas and killed herself. He seemed utterly unaffected by her death. He even organized a welcome-home party for my father when he was discharged from the hospital. But on the day of the party, he poisoned every dish on the table. "It's because of you and your damn father! If it weren't for you, Rosalin wouldn't have killed herself! You're the ones who drove her to death! You should pay for her life!" When I opened my eyes once more, I had returned to the day my father collapsed. This time, my husband answered the phone. Without a second thought, he ran to his childhood sweetheart. Yet, why had he still come to regret it?