Melodramatic Countdown Short Stories & Novels

Brandon Hawthorne said if I wanted to marry him, I had to prove I was tough enough to be a Hawthorne. He took my bank cards, ditched me in a city I'd never been to, and made me figure out how to get home alone. When my fever hit 104°F, he still refused to let the family doctor through the door. Instead, I had to smile through dinner with a house full of Hawthorne relatives while I could barely stay on my feet. And every time I finally asked Brandon for help, he looked at me like I'd failed him. "You can't even handle something this simple. How are you supposed to be my wife?" But when his childhood friend, Patty Rowan, got blisters from her shoes, he picked her up and carried her away in front of everyone. She got a headache in the middle of the night, and he left me alone in the hospital to take the family doctor to her. I asked him why. He frowned. "Patty's fragile. And she's not the one trying to become a Hawthorne." Then came our engagement party. I accidentally ate peanuts. My throat started closing. I couldn't breathe. Brandon grabbed my EpiPen and locked me in the lounge. "This is your final test. If you want to marry me, tough it out." Then Patty called. She had a paper cut. Brandon immediately left with the doctor. "Hold out for ten minutes." I lost track of time. Right before everything went dark, I saw Brandon come back with Patty tucked close beside him. She had a Band-Aid on her finger. Through the haze, I heard the disappointment in his voice. "Patty was bleeding, and she didn't even cry. Are you seriously pretending to be dead?" Then came the final blow. "You failed the test. You're not ready to become a Hawthorne."

[No matter how carefully you plan, fate can erase everything with a single stroke.] The moment I confirmed that Delilah Carter was cheating on me, that post appeared on my phone. I opened it calmly and scrolled to the comments beneath a thread titled "Unfaithful". Then I added a few lines of my own. [How unbelievable can it be?] [A coworker snapped a casual vacation photo and posted it online. Out of thousands of people in the background, my fiancee and my best friend just happened to end up in the same frame.] [Our wedding is in three days, yet here I am, rushing across the country in the middle of the night to catch them together.] After posting the comment, I locked my phone. The wallpaper display happened to be our wedding portrait. Leaning against the white wall of the hotel corridor, I closed my bloodshot eyes in exhaustion. Only after the intense, frenzied noises inside finally stopped did I raise my hand—still wearing my wedding ring—and knock on the door. "Who is it?" Delilah opened the door wearing a silk camisole. I pushed past her and walked inside. Marcel Graham froze when he saw me, unsure how to react. "Cedric Davenport..." Before he could say anything else, the beautiful Delilah threw herself in front of him. "It was me! I seduced Marcel! Whatever you want to do, take it out on me! Leave him alone!" They clung to each other like tragic lovers facing the end of the world, desperate to hold on to one another. I stood silently in the darkness, my expression vacant, as I breathed in the lingering musky scent in the room. I didn't argue or make a scene. I simply committed the moment to memory. I told myself not to look back or forgive. Then I opened the invitation to Europe that had been sitting untouched in my inbox for months. On the final day before it expired, I accepted. From that moment on, the two things I treasured most—love and friendship—became nothing more than illusions.

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.

For the seven years after our marriage, I spend whole nights in the prayer room before he will even touch me. Eric Compton says it is to atone for what I owe Monica Lynch. When his mother, Barbara Lane, pushes me to fulfill my wifely duties again, I overhear Eric's friends laughing. "Let me think. How many rounds of IVF has Avery done this year? She's trying very hard to get pregnant." "She probably doesn't know there's no way she's ever getting pregnant with Eric's kid." Eric scoffs. "Every time we're done, I give her a glass of milk. After all these years of birth control, it'd be a miracle if she got pregnant." He adds, "Everything she's suffered through is just payback for driving Monica away." I smile bitterly and send the recording to Richard Compton. "I'm not the lucky one meant to carry on the Compton name. Can I go now?"

Three years after remarrying her childhood sweetheart, Greg Gilliam, Kathleen Whelan attends a casual alumni get-together. There, she overhears a secret about her husband. Rita Elway, once the prettiest woman on campus, has clearly had too much to drink. When someone asks about the wildest thing she's ever done, she swirls her glass. Her eyes are glassy, and there's a taunting edge to her voice. "Being Greg's other woman, obviously! And his wife is so stupid, she actually thinks we broke things off. I had his baby, I live in his mansion, drive one of his prized supercars, spend his money, and even have his family's staff waiting on me!" The room goes dead silent. Every eye turns to Kathleen. After all, she's Greg's wife, and everyone is waiting for her to lose it. But Kathleen doesn't cry or make a scene. When a server comes by to refill her glass, she simply says, "Thank you," as calmly as ever.

To leave something for her dying first love, my wife, Elara Wynn, decides to carry two babies at once, implanting his previously frozen embryo while she's already pregnant with our child. On the day of the procedure, she even stations 50 bodyguards outside, convinced I'll show up and try to stop her. But I never come. Once the embryo is successfully implanted, she finally relaxes. She doesn't understand why I'm making such a big deal out of it. All she wants is to leave something that belongs to her first love. She doesn't see anything wrong with that. Afterward, she comes to find me and says, as if she's doing me a favor, "Callum, aren't you happy I'm carrying twins now? Try to be the bigger person. What kind of example are you setting for the kids?" What she doesn't know is that while her first love's embryo survives the procedure, our baby doesn't. And I've already filed my immigration papers. In ten days, Callum Vane will cease to exist. I'll leave the country under a new identity, and she'll never see me again.

In the seventh year of marrying into the Dawson family, Amanda Dawson's childhood friend, Leroy Blanchard, has returned from overseas. Leroy is very outgoing and handsome, not to mention he's extremely capable, too. Soon, he becomes the apple of everyone's eye. Even my father-in-law, who has never liked me, to begin with, has nothing but praises for Leroy. On Leroy's birthday, Amanda spends a huge amount of money in organizing his birthday party before declaring her love for him in a high-profile manner. The entire city is waiting to watch me, the legally-wedded husband, embarrass myself just so I can kick up a huge fuss over the whole thing. But I merely smile faintly before packing my things and getting ready to leave. I've been in this world for seven years. Finally, I'm about to finish acting out all of my scenes as the lovesick male supporting lead.

In New York’s Upper East Side, there were two heirs. One was a speed-obsessed daredevil dominating the racetracks, the other was a brilliant actuary who controlled the flow of capital. Born into powerful families and polar opposites in temperament, yet they grew up side by side as each other’s only best friend. They had fought over girls and bickered endlessly over racing bets. However, at fifteen, there was one thing they did in perfect unison. They each put on the same roughly carved bronze badge. They were trinkets Mia had idly made during a craft class, marked only by a faint “M” scratched on the back. Back then, Mia was seated in the last row of the classroom. Her background was a complete mystery to everyone. Yet they wore that badge for ten whole years. Whether standing on the F1 podium or locking in billion-dollar trades at the exchange, the cheap little badge on their chests never changed. Until Ella showed up. She was the cherished daughter of a rising conglomerate family. She hand-stitched two gold-thread fabric patches and gifted them to them. The patches looked so ordinary they looked like the kind of trinket you would find three for a dollar at a flea market. And yet, they both replaced their bronze badges with her plain patches. Mia did not say anything. She simply folded away an old newspaper clipping with a photo of the three of them smiling together. That night, she called her father in Sicily. Her voice was emotionless. “Papa, I accept the marriage arrangement.”

One week before our engagement ceremony, fiancé took me and his foster sister to their hundredth dinner together. The maitre d' knew their table, their wine, and Serena's favorite meal. She sat beside the fireplace while I was squeezed into a chair in the aisle. Then the restaurant presented them with a silver decanter engraved: D & S. Always at the same table. The date beneath it was my birthday three years ago—the night Damian had abandoned me at a clinic because of an "emergency." He had spent those two hours here with her. Serena smiled. "After you and Evelyn get engaged, are we still keeping our monthly dinners?" "Of course," Damian said. "You're my family. If Evelyn can't accept that, she isn't fit to become a Moretti." For four years, I had fought Serena for every place in Damian's life. I fought for the seat beside him, for the bedroom meant to be ours, and for the right to be chosen whenever we both needed him. Every time, he told me to stop keeping score. That night, I finally understood how foolish I had been to abandon my own future for a love that never chose me first. So this time, I chose myself. I accepted Saint Clair Design Group's offer to become its Global Creative Director and youngest equity partner, then booked a flight to Milan for the morning of our engagement. Damian thought my silence meant I had finally accepted Serena's place in our marriage. He didn't realize I had stopped fighting because I no longer wanted a place in his life. He and Serena could keep their fifteen years of brother-and-sister devotion. In seven days, my love for him would be over.

I'm born with the ability to see how much time remains in every relationship between two people. Throughout my 13 years of marriage to my wife, Francine Spence, the rare word "Forever" glows above both our heads. But on the eve of our son Oscar Baxter's birthday, I stumble upon a conversation between Francine and her client, Dale Stratton. In it, I discover that she has been letting Dale use Oscar as a substitute for his deceased son, Zachary Stratton, to ease his grief. In an instant, the golden word "Forever" vanishes, and in its place is a glaring crimson number—7 Days.

“Shawn, Ethan and Wendy are engaged. Stop trying to come between them. We’ve already booked your flight. Stay abroad for a few years, then come back after their wedding.” Shawn Yates looked at his parents’ faces, at the way they seemed so sure they were doing what was best for him, and realized he had been reborn. He had returned to the day his parents forced him to leave the country and give up Wendy Stone for good. In his previous life, his parents talked him into leaving, but he couldn’t accept it. He told Wendy again and again that he was the one she loved. He begged his parents to tell her the truth and stop letting his brother, Ethan Yates, take his place. All it did was make Wendy despise him even more. When a car accident left him close to death, she even told the nurse on the phone coldly, “What’s he trying to pull this time? Tell him to stop trying to ruin my wedding with Ethan.”

In order to stay by Samuel Hudson's side, I decide to give up on the one-billion-dollar reward offered by the system. At the same time, I've used up all of the luck I've accumulated just to trade for a chance to fully heal Samuel's legs. But the price I need to pay is that I have to bind my life force to Samuel's devotion toward me. If he cheats on me physically or emotionally, my soul will be extracted from my body forcibly, leading to my eventual destruction. The moment I go through with the binding process, I find myself hesitating for a moment. But the sight of Samuel kneeling on one knee while proposing to me lovingly makes me believe him. I believe him with my whole heart when he promises to stay devoted to me forever. Because of this, I'm content with being the woman who will endure everything for her lover's sake. So, I tap the "confirm" button firmly. For the next seven years, Samuel and I continue to love each other as passionately as ever. Together, we've overcome countless challenges and survived many low tides together. But on our wedding anniversary, while I'm making soup for Samuel in the kitchen, I begin coughing violently all of a sudden. Soon, I spit out a huge glob of dark blood. Then, I look down to see my body starting to become transparent. In fact, my fingers can no longer touch the glass on the counter. At the same time, alarm bells begin ringing in my mind. [Warning! Samuel's affection level has dropped below the critical threshold. Destruction protocol is now activated.]

I was teleported to a parallel world by the system. After a decade of waiting, I finally received the news that I could leave. The system gave me seven days to say goodbye to this world. In my final seven days, I became exactly the person Rose Lewis wanted me to be. She and her dream man, Eden Carter, stayed up all night together, but I remained unperturbed. She used all her savings to open a store for Eden, and I happily agreed. She wanted to have a baby with Eden, and I nodded with a smile. Before leaving, I packed my luggage, wanting to bring some things from this world. Suddenly, she pushed the door open, her eyes showing an unprecedented panic. "This is your home. Where are you going?"

We'd planned a dream elopement photoshoot in Montana, but just before the trip, I came down with a severe case of acute gastroenteritis. My fiancé, Wallace Romano, looked at me with concern. "Then we'll all stay home. What's the point of going without our leading lady?" My best friend, Wallace's younger sister, and the rest of our friends all agreed. I thought I'd found my fairy-tale romance and a circle of friends who would stand by me for life. Then, while borrowing Wallace's tablet to watch a show, I accidentally opened a shared cloud album. The latest photo showed Wallace passionately kissing his ex-girlfriend, Emma Berry, beneath enormous flags in the Alps. All the friends who'd insisted they couldn't enjoy the trip without me were right there, cheering them on. "Wallace and Emma finally got their happy ending. Talk about a perfect romantic finale." "Without Miley around to ruin the mood, Emma has been so much happier." "She probably still thinks we're all staying home. We didn't even book her a plane ticket. Emma's the one who got one." "And that stomach bug? Apparently, Wallace left a glass of juice sitting out for two days just so she'd drink it." Their familiar voices washed over me, and my blood ran cold. If I wasn't the leading lady in Wallace's love story, it was time for me to find a leading man of my own.

At my engagement party, my fiance, Lorenzo Thorne, the Don, publicly took the hand of Layla Cline, the daughter of the woman who had once saved his life, and led her into the opening dance that symbolized their engagement. He declared publicly, "Layla, you are the only woman who matters tonight!" The engagement party I had looked forward to for years had been handed to someone else, right before my eyes. Just like before. At my birthday party, he had snatched the dress I'd spent weeks preparing and handed it to Layla, who hadn't brought one. "You already have me. Let Layla have the dress." I'd given up the passenger seat. I'd given up our anniversaries. Finally, I decided to give this man to her for good. I turned away and dialed the number I knew by heart. "Hi, Dad. I lost. I'll accept the arranged marriage."

Every time my husband cheated, he gave me a bracelet. I collected 99 bracelets in four years of marriage—I forgave him 99 times. He was away on a business trip for three days lately. When he came back, he brought home a rare bracelet worth Ten Million Dollars. That was when I knew it was time to ask for a divorce.

Before our graduation trip, three of my childhood friends and my boyfriend all come to me, one after another, asking to borrow money. Drake Owens claims he needs it for his startup, Evans Harding says his mother has been hospitalized, and Finley Booker mentions an overdue credit card bill. Finally, my boyfriend, Boaz Marshall, takes the money I had spent three years saving for my heart surgery. With reddened eyes, he says, "I only need it for two weeks, Ari. I swear on my life that I won't let it interfere with your surgery at all." Then came the day my heart condition flared up again. The doctor slams my test results onto the table and says in a grave voice, "You can't put this off any longer, Ms. Dawson. You need to pay the hospital fees and get admitted immediately." But after lending out 260 thousand dollars, I'm only left with 327 bucks in my bank account. I call each of them, but they all claim the funds haven't come through yet and ask me to wait a little longer. I pass by a travel agency on my way home. Through the glass, I see Boaz, Drake, Evans, and Finley gathered around my best friend, Cindy Myers, planning a trip to the Northern Pole. Five plane tickets are spread out on the table. "Who would have thought that this would be the trick that worked after all? We just had to drain her of all her cash, and she wouldn't be able to pester us to tag along anymore." "Arianna has a bad heart. She'll only be nothing but a burden. It's better just to leave her at home." "Exactly. This trip is for Cindy's birthday. There's no reason to let one person ruin the mood for everyone else." After a brief burst of laughter, someone asks, sounding a bit hesitant, "But that was money for her heart surgery. What if she has an attack in the next few days?" Boaz hands a brochure for a mountain resort to Cindy, completely unconcerned. "She's lived with that condition for years. It's not like something's going to coincidentally happen right now when we're away. We'll just pay her back once we return from the trip." Boaz happens to look up just then, facing the window. The moment he sees me, however, the smile on his face freezes.

To help Adrian Spencer get over his feelings for his cousin, his mother made a deal—with Zoey Landon, the girl who had been secretly in love with him for years. They signed a contract. It gave Zoey ninety-nine chances. If even once—just once—Adrian chose her, she’d get what she wanted: to become his wife. But if he never did, she’d be sent overseas for good. No return. No exceptions. Zoey knew how hopelessly obsessed Adrian was with Claire Spencer. Still, she signed without hesitation. Ninety-nine chances. She refused to believe he wouldn’t choose her—not even once. But what she didn’t see coming was…

On the eve of my college entrance exam, I receive a letter from ten years in the future. "Elliot Sutton, whatever you do, do not marry Sarah Gibson. Your marriage will be an absolute tragedy." I look up at Sarah Gibson, my girlfriend, who is sitting across from me. She is carefully picking the bones out of my fish for me. She is the most sought-after girl in our school, yet she has never had much of a temper. When it comes to me, she is always gentle and accommodating. Hence, the warning in the letter sounds completely absurd. Feeling unconvinced, I pick up my pen and angrily write my rebuttal on the back of the paper. "What do you know? She only has eyes for me. How could she ever treat me badly? "Ever since we were kids, she's always been the first to stand up for me whenever someone picks on me. Whenever it rains, she'd insist on holding the entire umbrella over my head, even if it meant that she'd get soaked." At the end, I conclude, "At worst, we'll just end up struggling a little. What's the worst that could happen? It's not like this relationship will cost me my life." The moment I stop scribbling, a new line of handwriting slowly appears on the paper. "That's exactly it. If you stay in this relationship, you will die."

Everyone in New Volka's underground world knows that the young Don Lorenzo Corsi is a cold-blooded lunatic. He only shows his gentle side to me. Seven years ago, Lorenzo saves me from an underground casino that belongs to the Corsi family. He also pays off my sickly Padre's astronomical medical bill on my behalf. He slips the family heirloom diamond ring that identifies me as the Donna of the family on my finger. When the heads of the family oppose his decision, he declares that he will only accept me as his wife in his lifetime. I once believed I was the only one he favored, but everything changed when his childhood friend, Viviana Rossi, returned to New Volka and became the family's new Consigliere. Lorenzo silently allows her to sit next to the main seat during family banquets—the spot that used to exclusively belong to me. "The Rossi family took a heavy blow for my sake in the past, Clara," he says. "I have to compensate her. However, my heart and the position of 'Mrs. Corsi' will forever belong to you." I believe Lorenzo's words, giving in time and time again as I remain by his side through seven bloody and turbulent years. On our seventh wedding anniversary, a rival family bombs our estate in the suburbs. Lorenzo rushes into the collapsing banquet hall and picks Viviana up. Although I'm three months pregnant, he says, "You're the strongest, Clara. Just hold on for three minutes. I'll come back for you once I send her to the bulletproof car." Three minutes pass, but Lorenzo still hasn't come back. The baby is gone when I regain consciousness. I also lose the ability to become a mother for the rest of my days. I calmly withdrew my hand and looked at Lorenzo, who had sunk to one knee beside the bed, overcome with remorse. Seven years ago, he saved Papa's life on my behalf. I've already paid off my debt to him with the seven years I spent with him and my child's life. I will leave his empire completely and live the rest of my life without him.