Childhood Sweethearts Melodramatic Short Stories & Novels

I was snow, lent to the human world by the Snow Realm. As a child, I led three lost boys out of the snowy mountains. One became my boyfriend. The other two became my closest childhood friends. The Snow Realm allowed me to stay human on one condition: Every year, before spring arrived, someone had to walk the last stretch of snow-covered trail at the summit with me. If no one came, I could no longer remain human. That first year, all three came, each trying to be the one to clear a path through the snow for me. And every year after that, they came again. Until this year, when my boyfriend Ethan’s cousin, Lily, moved to the city for school. She said she’d never seen the sea and wanted them to take her there. Before they left, I asked, “Who’s walking the snow trail with me this year?” Ethan answered first. “I am.” Noah and Lucas smiled. “Have we ever let you go alone?” But on the day we were supposed to leave, I waited at the station until dark. Then Lily sent me a photo from the beach. The three of them crowded around her, her smile as bright as a summer day. I asked, “Weren’t you supposed to come up the mountain with me?” “It’s Lily’s first time seeing the sea,” Ethan said. “I can’t just leave her here.” “You go every year,” Noah told me. “What’s the harm in skipping it once?” “We’ll go with you next year,” Lucas said. I looked toward the distant mountain. “But the snow will be gone tomorrow.” “Then we’ll go earlier next year,” Ethan replied. That night, they sent another message to the group chat. “We’re coming back to the beach next week. Want to join us?” I lowered my head. The snow on the back of my hand was slowly melting.

I built my wife’s family business from the ground up, sacrificing everything so that her world could thrive. The night I collapsed from stomach bleeding after too many business drinks, she was out laughing with her childhood sweetheart. She even had the nerve to call me dull and uptight. I smiled when I finally handed her the divorce papers. “I wish you both a happy life together.” But instead of signing it, she tore it to pieces, tears in her eyes. “I’m not letting you go,” she said.

Three years ago, Vincent Harlow slept with a college student. When I found out, I was ready to walk away from the marriage with nothing if it meant I could divorce him. The day we were supposed to finalize the paperwork, Vincent jumped off a high-rise building. Tree branches broke his fall partway down. He survived, but his leg was shattered. Now, he was in a hospital bed and sobbing through apologies, begging me to give him one more chance.

Before the birthday party even began, Jeannie Collins cast her phone screen onto the large display in the private room. Then she started an anonymous poll in the group chat she shared with all our mutual friends. The question was simple: [Should I stay with my boyfriend to cut the birthday cake tonight, or go with my childhood friend to his movie premiere?] Thirty seconds. The countdown began. The numbers kept climbing. [Childhood friend: 17 votes.] [Boyfriend: 1 vote.] Everyone assumed that one vote was mine. Jeannie leaned back against the couch, glanced at the results, and smiled. "Majority rules." Marvin Snyder immediately slipped the movie tickets into her hand. "Looks like everyone thinks I need you more." I stood in front of the birthday cake, which was still untouched, while wearing my favorite white shirt. Someone in the room whistled. "Don't be a sore loser." Fair enough. This kind of voting had been going on for three years. After every argument, a poll would decide who should apologize first. Whenever a party ended, another poll would decide who she drove home first. Even when I asked her if she loved me, she would toss the question into the group chat. "Let's see what everyone thinks." I used to believe that if I could just win once, she would finally choose me without hesitation. However, I had never won. Not once. Tonight was no different. Jeannie stood and reached for her coat. As she passed me, she casually pinched my ear. "Be good. I'll make it up to you when I get back." I stared at the poll results glowing on the screen, then turned off my phone. Without a word, I pushed the cake knife toward her. "There's no need." I looked at her. "I'm abstaining."

After the SAT scores are released, Mom says we should get a family portrait taken and hang it in the living room to remember the occasion. The studio lights are already set up. Lavinia Jenkins, the photographer and my childhood friend, cheerfully starts getting everyone into position. "Alright, let's have the parents in the middle and the kids on either side." I move to stand beside my younger brother, Mitchell Simmons. Suddenly, my older sister, Meredith Simmons, puts out a hand to stop me and shoves me aside. "Maxwell, scoot over a little. Mitchell's got his new suit on today. Let him stand in the middle." Mom nods. "Exactly. It looks better with Mitchell in the middle. We're going to get a larger print of this picture." Mitchell is already standing front and center, adjusting his tie with a bright smile. Meanwhile, I'm shoved all the way to the far left, barely making it into the frame. The makeup artist beside me speaks up hesitantly, "Ms. Jenkins, could the guy on the left move a little closer to the middle?" Lavinia waves her off. "No. Leave him there. He just needs to be in the picture." I stay put, watching as half my face disappears into shadow in the shot. It suddenly hits me that there's never really been a place for me in this family. If that's the way they want it, then I don't need to make room for them in my life anymore.

30,000 emergency meals meant for the disaster-stricken area were all sent to the incinerator as hazardous waste. The order to destroy them came from the deputy chief of the Health Department, Joanne Shea, my wife. The whistleblower was her childhood friend, Kevin Stafford, who claimed to be a retired undercover journalist. This was already the third time he had targeted my company. The first time, he reported my truck for illegal parking. Joanne then forced me to issue a public apology. The second time, he conducted an undercover investigation and accused me of violating packaging label regulations. Joanne issued a fine without hesitation and ordered my company to undergo a month-long rectification. Each time, Joanne has sided with him, using me as an example for others to learn from. This time, with water and electricity cut off in the disaster area, I rushed supplies there overnight only to be blocked at the entrance once again. Holding the certification of compliance, I pleaded, “The front lines can’t wait. If anything goes wrong, I’ll take the blame with my life!” However, Joanne coldly waved me off. “Kevin is a journalist. He would never take the disaster area lightly! Destroy the supplies immediately!” Two days later, the lab report confirmed that the food met all standards. However, the emergency rations had already been destroyed, and the “‘Poisoned Meals for Disaster Relief” scandal had spread like wildfire online. The company faced a widespread online boycott, and major clients terminated their contracts overnight. Joanne looked at the lab report. She felt guilty but still kept her arrogance. “I guess Kevin misjudged the situation, but he meant well.” I found it all hilarious and slipped off my wedding ring. “I’ve given you three chances. Let’s get a divorce.”

On the day of the SAT exam, my girlfriend’s childhood friend, Benedict Casper, forgot his admission ticket at home. She insisted on retrieving it for him, but I begged her not to go. In the end, Benedict missed his final chance for taking the exam and, overwhelmed by despair, he jumped to his death. Years later, my girlfriend, Ella Simpson, and I graduated from Whitmore Institute of Technology, landed high-paying jobs, and built a picture-perfect marriage. But on the anniversary of Benedict’s death, she stabbed me repeatedly, her voice trembling with rage, “You killed him. If I’d gotten his admission ticket, he would’ve never jumped.” When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day of the exams. Ella’s frantic voice rang in my ears, “I have to go back, Dominic. I need to get Benedict’s ticket!” This time, I smiled and said, “Go ahead. Be careful on the way.”

Three days before my wedding, I found out that Shane Dawson had changed the venue from Grandma Mae’s home in the South to Castillo de Sol, the Spanish castle that Tania Collins, his childhood sweetheart, adored. I confronted him, only to overhear him complaining to his friend, "Thank God Tania has taste. Otherwise, I’d be laughed at for life." His friend reminded him, "Didn’t you promise her you’d hold the ceremony at her grandmother’s house? Aren’t you afraid she’ll get angry and refuse to marry you?" Shane just laughed, sharp and dismissive. "The Quinns are on the verge of bankruptcy. Marrying me is her only way out. She can’t afford to gamble. I’ve already asked the planner to call her. She’s probably scrambling to change her flight right now." Anger and humiliation burned in my chest. I bit down on my lip and, in the end, turned away. Three days later, the castle wedding went on as scheduled, but I didn’t reschedule my flight. I didn’t show up. Instead, I stood in Grandma Mae’s old courtyard and exchanged rings with another man. To this day, Shane doesn’t understand. I never married him for some so-called escape route. I married him for a love that lasted ten years. However, once the dream was over, it was time for me to choose a different path.

My brother and childhood sweetheart both fall in love with my adopted sister who is about to marry someplace afar in my stead. One of them has forgotten about me, and the other has broken his vow to always be by my side. To win back Mona Pierce—who has learned the truth—they join forces to push me down the stairs on my birthday. I lose all hope in them and agree to the arranged marriage. Five days later, I leave the Greer family for good. Yet, after my departure, they regret everything.

The day she found out about the tumor, Noemi Rosales made one wild choice—she'd give her corneas to her blind husband, Daniel Gomez. Quietly. No spotlight, no drama. Too bad Daniel only cared about Ivanna Lopez. He ate up every lie she fed him and iced Noemi out like she was nothing. "I want you out of my life." Cool. Noemi could do that. "Ms. Rosales, are you certain you want Mr. Gomez listed as the cornea recipient?" "Yeah. Give them to him. Once I'm gone, the hospital can use the rest of me for science or whatever." She scrawled her signature. "Don't tell him."

My husband is a geologist. He took his soulmate, who was suffering from a terminal illness, to an active volcano, to fulfill her wishes. However, I was pushed into the lava when we were there. His soulmate then said, "Don't worry about me, just go and save her. I'm going to die soon anyway." I cried for help, "Please save me, I'm pregnant." However, my husband scolded me coldly, "A cancer patient has the right to live too. How can you be jealous of her and claim you are pregnant? Celine doesn't know anything, unlike you. You're an expert at this, you should know what to do. Just save yourself!"

On my birthday, the dining table was loaded with all my favorites. My mom had been cooking and baking the entire afternoon, insisting everything be perfect for when Mike got home from work so we could celebrate together. But then, he called and said his first love had been drugged at a bar, and he had to go help her. I stopped him and begged him not to go. Mike snapped at me. "Jesus, Em, don’t pull this jealous wife crap. She’s alone, defenseless, and unconscious—I can't let some random dude take advantage of her!" My mother heard those words and was so enraged that she had a heart attack. She died on the spot. Just like that, my mom died on my birthday. I called Mike, asking him to attend my mom's funeral. But before he could reply, I saw Cathy Miller's latest Instagram post, captioned: [Mikey… after all these years, it was always you.] Mike had liked it. My thumb moved before my brain caught up, typing out the only words that mattered: [A homewrecker and a lying bastard. Hope you rot together.]

I'd upset my fiancé again, the men I'd grown up beside. All because I wanted to borrow thirty million from him to buy back a ruby brooch. Adrian was heir to the Vampire Prince. To him, the money was nothing. But in front of every servant in the house, his face went cold. "Elena. Don't be greedy." Disdain filled his eyes. "Yes, your mother died saving me fifteen years ago, yet I agreed to marry you." "You're only human. Don't presume on that." My throat closed. I'd been about to explain that the brooch was the only thing I had left of my mother. But Adrian had already looked away, impatient. "Whatever it is, it can wait until I'm back. Stop making a scene." I ran my thumb over the few thin bills in my pocket and lowered my head. A whole year of quiet work for the manor's servants, and that was all I'd saved. I was still wiping my eyes when I got back to my room, and my father called again. "Elena, have you decided? This is for your own good. No matter how long you wait, young Master Adrian will never marry you." "Why don’t you take your stepsister's place. Marry into the North instead. You'll have an easier life." This time, I didn't argue. "Fine. I'll do it." "But I want thirty million in return."

Three nights before my wedding, I called my fiancé, Garrett. A version of him from five years in the future answered. I couldn't keep the happiness out of my voice. "Are we happy together? Has your mother finally accepted me?" A long silence hung on the other end before a low, tipsy chuckle came through. The laugh was faint, the kind you'd use to humor a naive child. "Vivi, in the last five years, you've asked me for a divorce more times than I can count." I froze. "...What do you mean?" "It means you found out about me and Kiera." My breath caught. I couldn't believe it. "My sister? I thought you couldn't stand her." He let out a quiet sigh. "Vivi, saying I couldn't stand her was just my way of hiding how I really felt." "Don't worry, I won't divorce you. We made our vows at the altar, after all." A chill ran through me. I wanted to press further, but a lazy little giggle drifted through from the other end. "Garrett, who is it?" He murmured something in response and hung up. A second later, a message from Garrett popped up on my phone. [Vivi, our wedding is almost here. You're happy, right?] [I'll be good to you for the rest of my life. If I ever break that promise, I don't deserve to live.]

My mission to win her love had failed, and the system told me I could leave this world in fifteen days. As soon as I heard the news, I agreed to the divorce my wife wanted. I stopped making a scene whenever she left me behind to take care of her childhood friend. I stopped screaming myself hoarse when she spent my money on vacations with him. At first, she even praised me for being understanding. Then she smiled and told me she planned to marry him, and I still didn't react. She began to panic.

At our friends' get-together, my girlfriend, Delilah Stallard, casually stuffs her half-eaten ice cream into the mouth of her childhood sweetheart, Noel Weston. Everyone around us instantly exchanges awkward glances. My best friend looks furious as he asks me what I'm going to do about it. What else can I do? Naturally, I give them my blessing. "Why did you even bother to look for a boyfriend? You two might as well just date each other."

Seven years into their marriage, Bella got hit with a truth—Steven had a kid. A six-year-old. She crouched behind the preschool slide, barely breathing, as Steven bent down to scoop the boy up. "Daddy, you haven't come to see me in forever." "Be good, Ollie. Work's been crazy. Listen to your mom, alright?" Bella froze. Same face. Same eyes. It was obvious. Everything about them screamed it—The man who swore he'd love her forever had been cheating on her this whole time. Steven and Bella weren't just a couple. They were childhood sweethearts. She once took a knife for him. Nearly died. Lost their baby. Lost the chance to ever have one again. Steven had held her hand back then, eyes red, saying, "I don't care if we never have kids. As long as I have you, that's enough." She still heard the shake in his voice. Now? Every promise. Every memory. All of it—gone.

At the wedding, just as we were right in the middle of exchanging rings, my fiancé, Ethan Nash, stepped away from the altar. “I just need to take care of something. I’ll be right back.” Before I could say anything, he had already hurried away. Everyone watched as he walked straight to his childhood friend, Ruth Trew, opened her water bottle for her, and then rushed back. “No harm done, right? It only took ten seconds.” I stood there frozen. I had actually believed something was wrong. My heart had been in my throat. Perhaps, to him, Ruth came before everything. It was just like the ten minutes everyone had to wait so she could be in the photo, or the two hours I had to wait while he took a detour to pick her up from work. I did not know how many more moments like that were ahead of me, be it a dozen seconds or ten minutes, ten hours, ten days, or even ten years. The officiant, Marcus Oakley, looked grim. He tried to lighten the mood, but nothing he did could save it. “Well, the groom has left the altar for a moment. Umm...” I took the microphone from him. All it took was ten seconds. At that moment, I was done. I did not want to get married any longer.

Ethan Shaw had died. Before the funeral, his wife, Stella Walker, packed his belongings and found a thick photo album. [My True Love] On the cover, it said— She opened it. The photos inside were not of her. They were Rachel Chester—the girl Ethan had adopted years ago. Not only that, Ethan left all his wealth to her. Stella died with hate in her heart. When she opened her eyes again, she had returned to the night before she married Ethan. This time, she chose to live for herself and walked away from Ethan to pursue her own dream. What she did not expect was that, in this life, Ethan went mad looking for her when she left. He searched for her everywhere.

I was bound to a Blessed Lineage System and thrown into a world of shifters. After a rabbit shifter named Rowan saved me, we slowly fell in love. Together, we had three little rabbit babies. But soon, the other shifter clans discovered my strange gift. While Rowan was out hunting, they took me away and forced me to bear their heirs. Rabbit shifters were born weak. To bring me back, Rowan fought with everything he had in the arena, only to be beaten down by the stronger clans. All he could do was watch as they dragged me away. When I finally escaped and returned to him, he did not despise me. Instead, he treated me even more tenderly, doing everything he could to make it up to me. But over the next five years, I was taken eight times. Again and again, I gave birth to children who were not his. I begged the system to send me home. But it told me I could never go back. Then, one day, I was taken again. Before I lost consciousness, I heard Rowan speaking to a wolf shifter. “Don’t hurt Ayla. She’s afraid of pain. Once she gives birth, send her back to me.” The wolf shifter let out a cold laugh. “She’s just a breeding vessel. Why are you acting so worried? Don’t worry. You’ll get what I promised. I’m far more generous than that black serpent.” Only then did I understand. Rowan had been trading me for resources all along. And because I was afraid he would blame himself, I had foolishly endured all that pain for him. I had almost given up completely. Then the system’s cold voice, silent for so long, suddenly rang in my mind. [Ding. System mission updated. Once the host has continued the bloodline of every shifter clan, she may return to her original world.] I froze. Only two clans were left. The wolves. And the foxes.