Nouvelles Feel-Good Story & Romans Independence Marriage

My wife, Elena Shaw, brought home a baby girl and told me she was the orphaned daughter of a distant cousin. She asked me to raise her as my own. However, I knew the truth — the girl’s biological father was the man who killed my father. I wanted to throw her out. Then, Elena showed me a single photograph. The moment I saw it, I accepted the child without another word. For twelve years, I washed her clothes, cooked her meals and sent her to an elite private school. I never scolded her, even when she pointed at me and called me a pathetic coward. Our relatives all said that I had lost my mind. Then, on her thirteenth birthday, Elena asked me to sign over my shares of the company. My mother fell to her knees and begged me not to sign, but I simply smiled and took out that same photograph. She looked at it only once before pressing her thumbprint onto the document herself. The entire room erupted into chaos.

My husband Seth and I switched bodies on the night of our wedding anniversary. When I went to the office posing as him, his colleague Jenny whispered sultrily into my ear, "Why haven't you divorced your wife yet?" I looked at the counter on my wrist. It displayed ninety-nine points—that meant we only needed to gain one more point to switch back to our own bodies. I smiled. “Points have been reset to zero! Reset! Reset! Reset!”

The delivery-app price war ended up being the smoking gun that proved my husband was cheating. A man who drank nothing but premium craft coffee somehow had a Dunkin’ iced coffee bag sitting in his car. After catching me staring at it, he explained, “The new receptionist at work gave it to me. She said there was some promotion going on and the drinks were ridiculously cheap, so she bought too many and offered me one. I only accepted it because I didn’t want to be rude.” I looked at him with amusement. “Is she pretty?” Hearing the sarcasm in my voice, Carter Freeman snapped. It was out of character. “If you’re going to keep acting jealous for no reason, get out of my car!” It seemed that so much time had passed that he had forgotten that the “Freeman” behind Freeman Group was not Carter Freeman, but me.

After ten years’ being in love with Don Bianco, I finally got the chance to take wedding photos with him. My best friend Amy, who facilitated our engagement, also came to help us. When Amy was dressed in her tailored bridesmaid dress, I saw a clear astonishment in Bianco’s eyes. Amy advised to take a photo together as a commemoration, As I stood in my wedding dress as the central one, Amy laughed at herself: “I look like a maid.” Immediately, Bianco dragged me to the edge, leaving the highlight to Amy. The flash lit up, they were the perfect match. When choosing the photos, Bianco required the photographer pick the one with me on the edge as the welcome poster for our wedding. I questioned Bianco: “Why should the middle of our wedding poster be left to another woman?” Bianco glanced at me with a dismissive smile: “You’ll be Donna anyway, sweetheart. Stop being jealous.” “Without Amy, we couldn’t have taken the photo. Picking this one shows our gratitude.” Staring at the photo, I found myself dressed up to the nines, but looked like a stranger. Even standing in the position, I couldn’t own it. I didn’t want to be in the middle anymore.

The day I broke up with my boyfriend, I was sitting in my husband’s car when I watched him buy a box of bandages for his mistress. Gavin Hart had always said he didn’t believe in love. What he wanted was novelty. The rush of something new. I laughed when I heard that. Funny. I didn’t want love either. I wanted his money. His power. And the life that came with his name. Marriage is never just about two people. I thought my affair was the betrayal that would destroy everything. Later, I realized it was the least important secret in our marriage.

13 years ago, I pulled Alexander Roswell out of a small town and gave him everything my family had. I helped the Roswell family's unwanted second son become the Don he is today. The day he accepted the scepter that symbolized his authority as Don, he proposed to me. He held out a diamond ring, his eyes soft. "Evelyn, I love you. Once I've dealt with the traitors, we'll get married." I thought I wouldn't have to wait long. I was wrong. He betrayed me before he could keep that promise. He took Sienna Brooks, his young new assistant, to one of my family's hospitals for a prenatal checkup. He didn't even seem to care that he was on my territory. When I arrived, he was stroking her belly and discussing baby names with her. She leaned against him, looking perfectly happy. "Darling, do you think our baby could be your heir?" Alexander said nothing, but his silence was answer enough. He was actually considering it. Pain stabbed through my chest. The report slipped from my hand and fell to the floor. It confirmed that my fifth round of IVF had failed.

Josie Jackson, who had been cold to me for ten years, suddenly changed her attitude. Not only did she take me on a worldwide trip, but she also personally cooked a lavish dinner for me. I thought our relationship had finally improved, but little did I know, she had put an excessive amount of sleeping pills in the food. I was taken to the hospital, where I was forcibly castrated without any anesthesia. By the time I regained consciousness, I saw Josie and her so-called brother close together. "Josie, you're so good to me! I only mentioned being envious of Andrew's health. I can't believe you actually emasculated him all for me." Josie's expression remained calm. Her eyes were filled with nothing but affection for Alex Carter. "This is what he deserves. If it weren't for him back then, you wouldn't have been in that accident and ended up with a physical disability. "I'm only returning what he took from you." Ten years ago, during an earthquake, I gave up saving Alex and chose to save her instead. So she took all the pain Alex suffered out on me. Since I felt guilty, I endured her torment for ten years. This time, I finally gave up. After finding out I didn't have much time left, I called my mother. "I agree to the heart transplant for Robert."

The night before Prince Dorian's consort-selection reception, I had a terrible dream. I dreamed I got exactly what I wanted. I became his wife, and I wasted my entire life on it. While I hemorrhaged through the birth and our baby died before it drew a breath, Dorian was at a lodge across the city, drinking to celebrate with another woman. What they were celebrating was my labor. My child hadn't been unlucky. Dorian had drugged me. He'd promised that woman she would be the only one to ever bear his children. Later I learned the truth, and I found her, and I found the son she'd given him in secret. Dorian went wild. He broke my arms and legs and kept me locked away for the rest of my life. He entered the boy into my household records and installed him openly as his heir. On the day I died, Dorian finally turned up. Decades of marriage, and it was the most he had ever said to me. "Celeste was born too low for my mother to accept her. That's the only reason you got the title. "You were useful, though. Celeste could never enter the house, but our son can inherit it under your name. "Go quietly. If there's a next life, keep your distance. Stop throwing yourself in my path." I woke with a jolt, refusing to believe it. Then, at the selection reception, I walked straight into Dorian on purpose and lifted the handkerchief from his sleeve. A pair of swans was embroidered on it, and beneath them, small and neat, the name Celeste Beaumont. The blood drained out of my face. I grabbed the girl I'd hated since childhood and headed for the door. "I'm not marrying him. And neither are you."

The day after our wedding, Justin Hudson and I are finally about to leave for our honeymoon. A trip that's supposed to be just for the two of us. But as we're about to board our flight, his mother, Karen Cruz, shows up beside him with a suitcase and a warm smile. "I'm not here to get in your way," she says. "I'm just tagging along." I freeze. Justin simply takes my hand and tries to reassure me. "My mom raised me all by herself. It wasn't easy. If she wants to come, let her. Don't start acting selfish the minute we're married." The entire trip, the two of them sit together, reminiscing about relatives I've never met and sharing stories I've never heard. Karen even jokes that the neighbor's daughter used to insist she'd only ever marry Justin. Justin laughs as he peels an orange for her. "Mom, don't start." He never even looks at me. When we arrive at the hotel, the front desk informs me that the honeymoon suite I booked has been changed to a family room. Karen immediately takes my hand. "Zoe, I was just trying to save you two some money. We're family. Why pay for two rooms?" That night, she complains that the air conditioning is too cold, the shower is too loud, and my perfume gives her a headache. By the end of the night, she's called Justin over to sit beside her bed. He stays there until dawn. Only then does he finally turn to me. "My mom's getting older. Just let her have this." I stare out at the pale gray ocean. And in that moment, I finally understand. This honeymoon gives the two of them exactly what they want. As for me, I'm nothing more than the extra bride in their story.

Ryan Becker's favorite phrase was always, "Just wait a little longer." I waited two years for his startup to stabilize so we could get married. I waited another three years for his mother to warm up to the idea of a wedding. On the night of his 30th birthday dinner, his mother slipped her emerald bracelet off her wrist in front of everyone. Passing down the heirloom was their old tradition for recognizing a daughter-in-law. I thought that this time, finally, I wouldn't have to wait anymore. "Give me your hand, dear." Yet Aurelie Becker reached right past me and smoothly fastened the bracelet around Sabine Hansen's wrist instead. The entire room fell dead silent. She patted the back of Sabine's hand warmly. "Sabine grew up with Ryan. We're all one family here, no distinctions between us." My hands were still resting on the table, my fingertips turning cold. Someone whispered, "What about Miss Solis?" Ryan leaned in close, lowering his voice. "My mom is just being sentimental. Don't take it to heart. I'll bring you a custom necklace from my business trip next month. Just wait a little longer, okay?" Sabine lifted her wrist, flaunting it right in front of my face with a provocative smile. "Look, Eliza, isn't it beautiful? Aurelie says it's an old-mine emerald." "It's beautiful," I said simply. Just then, the phone inside my bag vibrated. It was a text message that read: [Have you made up your mind? When are you coming to Phaelis?]

We'd been together seven years before Damian Caruso finally agreed to the wedding. Inside St. Patrick's Cathedral, I stood at the aisle in a lace gown, surrounded by the most dangerous mafia elders from New York and New Jersey. Three minutes, and the Don would take his vows and take over the rest of my life. Then he answered a phone call. "Bella got into a car accident. In Brooklyn." Bella. The orphan of a dead servant. The "life debt" Damian owed her. Her needs always came before mine. When a gun was to my head, he was at her therapy. When I nearly went into shock from fever, he missed my call because he was staying the night with Bella, who's afraid of the dark. Now, at our vows, Damian turned to the priest. "Apologies. Something's come up. The wedding is postponed." The room erupted. Young lieutenants laughed openly. A betting board appeared on the screen: [$100,000 says our future Donna lets the Don go to Bella. She's been trained too well.] Damian saw it. He didn't get angry. He draped his coat over my shoulders. "Viola, I have to go. You've always been the sensible one. As future Donna, you know how to handle this. Don't let them make a joke of us." Yeah. I used to be so "sensible." For seven years, I swallowed every grievance and cleaned up his messes. "Go. I'll wait here." My voice was calm. He nodded, satisfied, and strode out. The bells rang seven times—seven years of me bleeding for him. When the seventh fell, his car had vanished around the corner. And with it, the last of my hope. Damian thought I'd be waiting, like always. But this time, I was done.

I've just given Eugene Howard a lavish monetary wedding gift at his wedding when I see him passing me an instant cup noodle with a look of disdain. "You can just eat it at the entrance. You can just broaden your horizons from this spot. Why don't you take a look at yourself in the mirror, Nicholas? Do you really think you have the right to sit at the same table as the bigwigs in the wedding venue?" I suppress my rage for the sake of my fiance, Esther Howard. After all, Eugene is her younger brother. "I'm a wedding guest, so why can't I enter the venue?" Today is the day Esther will be announcing our upcoming marriage. If I get blocked outside the venue, who's going to be there with her when she makes the announcement? But Eugene scoffs at me in return. "You're worth nothing! Just because Esther flashes you a smile after seeing how good-looking you are doesn't mean you have the right to marry her! "Soon, my family will be receiving a ten-billion-dollar investment from the Warner family of Cantonia! That means we'll become the richest family in Geronton! "Plus, my future brother-in-law, Ray Atkinson, is an illegitimate son of the Warner family! A pretty boy escort like you can never compare to him!" Ray Atkinson? Wait, does Eugene seriously think that this nobody, whom I've never heard of in my life, is capable of calling the shots when it comes to my family's investment? I call Esther's number on the spot. "I heard that you want to call off our marriage and marry a bastard child hailing from the Warner family? Well then, I suppose I can retract my ten-billion-dollar wedding gift now."

On the Memorial Day weekend, Mason Hayes, the student my wife, Abigail Sullivan, had been sponsoring, insisted on riding with me back to his hometown. My car was small, the drive was long, and the trunk was already packed. There was no way to fit another adult, so I turned him down as politely as I could. That night, Abigail came home and stayed quiet for a long time before finally saying, "He ended up walking along the highway. His feet were torn up." I frowned, trying to make sense of it. "It's a holiday weekend. There are Ubers everywhere. He could've booked one in minutes." She nodded softly, the same gentle expression she always wore, and poured me a glass of water. I drank it. The next thing I knew, everything went black. When I opened my eyes again, I was standing under a brutal midday sun on an empty stretch of highway. Abigail leaned into Mason's shoulder, holding her phone up as she livestreamed. There was a faint smile on her lips, but there was nothing warm about it. "You said getting around was easy, right? Why don't you try walking home yourself?" The livestream was packed. The chat flooded with messages, people placing bets on how far I would make it. I looked straight into the camera, ran my tongue over my cracked lips, and said, "Done enjoying the show? Now come and pick me up."

My mother suddenly suffered a brain hemorrhage, and I needed to pay $80,000 for surgery immediately. I called my wife right away. Before I could finish, she cut me off impatiently. "Gabriel Cole, didn't we agree when we got married that we'd keep our finances separate? Your mother being sick is your family's problem. Why should you touch my savings? Can't you have a little respect for the contract?" Then my stepson's sneering voice came through from her side. "Uncle Gabriel, can you stop morally blackmailing my mom? As a grown man, isn't it pathetic that you can't even pay your own mother's medical bills? Stop bothering us while we're eating sushi." Because I couldn't pay the fee in time, my mother missed the best window for surgery and died. It wasn't until noon the next day that my wife called me. Her first words were an accusation. "What's wrong with you? It's already noon. Why aren't you back to cook? Don't you know Mason has tutoring this afternoon?" "My mom died of a brain hemorrhage!" I roared through gritted teeth. My wife froze for a second. The first thing she blurted out was: "Well, don't expect me to pay for the funeral. That's a matter of principle. "And your mother dying is your mother dying. That's not a reason for you to skip cooking." In that instant, I knew the devotion I'd poured out for more than ten years meant nothing to her. Rage hit my heart. I suffered a heart attack and followed my mother into death. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day my wife proposed separate finances after marriage.

In the ward, Lydia Webb leans bashfully against Hayden's chest as he tenderly feeds her soup. Lydia pouts. "It's all your fault, Hayden. You were so rough that you made me bleed." "I just couldn't help myself," Hayden says, his voice thick with affection. "I'll be gentler next time, okay?" Outside the door, Melissa Smith clutches a lab report so hard her knuckles turn white. Her heart aches as if crushed in a vice. The report states, "Two months pregnant, with healthy fetal development." The man inside is her husband—the very man who swore to love her forever. Ten days ago, Hayden said he had to work overtime and hasn't been home since. She never imagined he spent those ten days indulging in another woman's bed.

On the very day I underwent a vasectomy, Susan bought the designer tuxedo I had been eyeing for months. However, her next words struck me like a bolt of lightning. “Tomorrow is my baby’s sip-and-see. I need you looking your best.” The IV needle snapped right out of the back of my hand. With bloodshot eyes, I begged her to stop playing around. However, her face remained dead serious. “Choosing to be childfree back then was just a compromise because we were struggling. But now, I’m sitting on a multi-million dollar estate. I need an heir to inherit my fortune. My child will be your child, too. From now on, you will be the baby’s godfather.” In that exact moment, my vision blurred. “So, you pushed me to get a vasectomy just to secure the positions of your lover and your illegitimate child?" I spat out. Susan frowned, annoyed. “Myles, watch your mouth. I am giving you the status of my official husband, and I'm giving Owen the child. It’s a fair trade. Staying with me means you get to be a father without any of the pain. If you leave me, who else would ever want a sterilized man like you? Think about it wisely.” The pain hit me all at once as the anesthesia wore off. Yet, I couldn’t help but remember that once upon a time, she had carried a child of ours that she refused to accept.

Frank Carter has been my private driver and personal assistant for the past three years, but lately he has become impossible to deal with. I ask him to pick up fresh seafood for dinner, but he comes back with nothing more than a bag of frozen shrimp and a few sausages. "Frank, didn't I ask you to buy fresh seafood from the market?" He tosses the grocery bag onto the counter and shrugs. "The seafood isn't fresh today. I'll check again tomorrow." The next day, he comes back with a bottle of Worcestershire sauce. "Seafood's expensive," he says with a grin. "This is premium Worcestershire sauce. Just a splash of this, and the food will taste just as good." I sigh. "You don't have to worry about the cost. We can afford to have seafood every now and then." But things only get worse. Over the next week, Frank keeps bringing home cheaper groceries. Soon, seafood disappears from the menu altogether, along with any decent cuts of meat. Just as I'm debating whether to grab a proper meal somewhere, I overhear Frank talking on the phone in the garage. "Lucas Reed is such a loser. He doesn't deserve a wife like Vivian Grant. Once I introduce my son, Mike Carter, to her, she'll dump that freeloader in no time. Mike will take his place soon enough." I almost laugh. I've been planning to renew Frank's contract for another year. I even plan to help his newly graduated son land a job at Vivian's company. Well, not anymore.

Three years into my marriage to Vivian Rhodes, I've suffered three separate accidents. In the first year, my art studio mysteriously catches fire, and a falling easel crushes both of my hands. In the second year, I am involved in a car accident that damages my reproductive system, leaving me infertile. In the third year, I am attacked and suffer a severe head injury. When I wake up, I develop serious vision problems. The doctor tells me that my corneas are severely damaged and infected. To save my life, they have to remove one of my eyes. Devastated, I chase the doctors and nurses out of my room and flee from the hospital. But then I overhear my wife talking to her best friend, Hailey Dawson. "Vivian, you ruined Julian's hands and made him infertile for Andrew. Now you're working with the doctor to deceive him and take his eye. If Julian finds out, he'll hate you." Vivian's expression darkens, but her voice remains firm. "If Julian can still paint, Andy will never win any award. And I promise Andy that all my love and everything I own will go to Cece. So I can only have one child. Only by making Julian blind can I bring Cece home without arousing suspicion. She looks so much like me." So the happy marriage I think I have is nothing but a carefully constructed lie. All three "accidents" over the past three years are her doing. I can no longer accept a marriage that has cost me my life.

Clara Sterling, the richest woman in the city, successfully got a divorce and the custody over her daughter. I married her right away. Five years into our marriage, I've already quit my job and focused on becoming a great father and husband at home. Everything changes when Clara's ex-husband, William Sawyer, returns to the country abruptly. That night, my stepdaughter, Sarah Sterling, moves my things from Clara's room to a guest room. "You're my stepdad, so you can't sleep with my mommy. I can't make Daddy sad. You should leave our home!" The maids make fun of me. Meanwhile, Clara raises an eyebrow at me. "It's completely normal for Sarah to take her biological father's side. Don't take her words to heart. You're my husband now, anyway." I just hum in response as I pack up my luggage silently. Clara tries to climb into my bed late at night, only for me to turn her away. "Our marriage contract will come to an end in two days. Once the time comes, let's get a divorce."

On the very first day Jason and I made our relationship official, he insisted on handing over his salary for me to manage. He said marriage was only a matter of time and that he trusted his future wife to keep the money safe. On the day of our engagement, Jason demanded that I hand over the $960,000 in salary I had “kept” for him over the past four years. “Each month, I gave you $20,000. In four years, that’s $960,000. After expenses, there should be at least $800,000 left, right? I can’t bear to make my parents empty their savings for my marriage. We will use my savings for the wedding, $600,000 as the down payment for the new apartment, and the remaining $200,000 will be my wedding gift to you.” I froze. “But there isn’t a single dollar left!” Jason exploded. “You wasteful woman! You spent all the money?!” His mother also erupted. “So much money, and you squandered it all! What shameful acts have you been up to?! This marriage is off!” Jason demanded to see the accounts. I immediately pulled out the records in front of everyone. Seeing this, Jason’s mother panicked.