Inspirational Short Stories & Novels

The day before the start of a new semester, Gianna Sutton, my online girlfriend, tells me she lost me to her best friend in a dice game. I haven't even figured out what's going on when she suddenly adds me to the group chat with more than a hundred people. I notice the newly made announcement pinned to the top. "Congratulations to Natalia, our campus belle, for winning herself a 220-pound boyfriend!" Just then, someone posts a photo of me from high school. I am wearing an oversized uniform in the photo, my stomach pushing against the desk before me. I am so overweight that my eyes are barely visible. Those in the group chat immediately go wild. "That thing can't be human! It's clearly a pig in disguise!" "I actually feel kind of bad for Natalia. I mean, imagine having to complete couple tasks with a pig like him." "It's a total mismatch between a total knockout and an absolute beast!" It doesn't take long before someone sets up a betting pool over whether I'll show up tomorrow night. Gianna drops 4,500 dollars, betting that I won't show up. "I hope you won't blame me for this, Natalia. You're the one who rolled a six and won him in the game." Natalia Dafforn, the campus belle, remains completely silent. Cameron Gunter, the acknowledged scion in the freshman group chat, suddenly tags me. "You're definitely showing up tomorrow, right, Zachary?" I look at the messages piling up in the group chat and smile. I have already lost 145 pounds—from 275 to 130—just to meet Gianna in real life, something no one is aware of. In the past two months alone, I have been asked for my contact info more times than in my past 18 years combined. I quietly throw down 450 dollars, betting that I'll show up on time. Then, surrounded by everyone egging me on, I simply send one message. "A bet is a bet."

My blood-bonded mate lied to me. He said our bond—a bond of centuries—was fading. It was all for his new lover, Josie. He wanted to let her play princess. He denied me my rightful place. I was walking down a hall lined with ancient tapestries when I heard Josie’s voice, sweet and laced with venom. “Darling, if you make me your princess, just for a little while, can you taste me every night? But… won’t that old relic Lydia get suspicious? Your bond has lasted three centuries, after all.” “What can she do? She can’t leave this castle, and she needs my blood to survive.” Milton’s voice dripped with contempt. “That fool, Lydia. I told her the bond was fading, and she actually believed our connection was broken. Even if she knew the truth, she’d just hand over the Eternal Chalice without a fight and go back to being a quiet little Dreamweaver. You’re the only princess in my heart, my little wildcat.” I froze. And I let him believe his lie was safe. Then, a pain sharp enough to kill a mortal ripped through my soul. The bond shattered. I turned and melted into the shadows. Let them think their little play is flawless. They’ll soon find out what this “fool” is truly capable of.

Derrick Caldwell once promised me that on the night of our pack's founding feast, he would announce that we'd been married for eight years. However, on the big day, his childhood friend, Lilith Sterling, takes my place. She sits beside him—the spot reserved for his Luna. The warriors say, "We heard you have a mate with whom you've been married for eight years, Alpha. Is this her?" Derrick smiles without denying it. He silently allows their assumption to stand. I want him to explain this to me, but he merely says, "You may have helped me become the Alpha, but your lowly birth is nothing compared to Lilith's noble status. As my mate, you need to be more tolerant." I don't argue with him. Instead, I turn and leave the pack he and I built together. Later, I start my own pack and turn it into the largest one in the federation. Derrick stands among the crowd during a ceremony where the Alpha King confers a medal of honor to me. He proudly tells anyone who will listen that I'm his wife. I act like I don't see him, and his eyes turn red with desperation.

I came from a family of musical prodigies. Everyone had talent—except me. I was born tone-deaf, with a harsh, unpleasant voice. My parents were Grammy winners, but I couldn't even pass an audition for a school show. Everyone said listening to me was torture. Desperate to carry on the Bennett family's musical legacy, my parents adopted Layla Bennett. The moment she entered our home, she took my place. My parents called her a musical genius and brought her to exclusive dinners, industry parties, and prestigious galas. My older brother, Ron Bennett, who had once spoiled me rotten, now said Layla was a hundred times better. Within a few years, Layla became one of the hottest rising stars in the music industry. I became an embarrassment to the family. Once, I touched Layla's performance gown. They accused me of trying to ruin it out of jealousy and shipped me overseas. “A spiteful child deserves to be punished!” Years later, I finished my studies abroad and finally returned home. But nothing was the way I remembered it. Layla lifted her chin and looked down at me. "Evelyn, I'm giving my first solo recital in Vienna soon. Mom and Dad will officially announce it at the party tonight. I'm the heiress to the Bennett family's musical legacy. We only need one golden voice in this family." My hand froze over the gift I'd brought her. Everyone said I had disgraced the family name. But what would they say if they knew the daughter they'd thrown away had already won gold at an international violin competition and performed on stages around the world? Would they be proud of me?

When Luca Moretti chose the jewelry for our wedding, he still bought two pieces and let my twin sister Bianca choose first. One was a ruby cuff from a Sicilian auction. The other was an off-the-rack black onyx bracelet, the kind sold in every mall jewelry store. For the first time, I reached before Bianca could. I pointed at the ruby cuff. "This time, can I choose first?" Luca set his palm on my head with the easy affection he used to make me behave. "Bianca has always been stubborn about quality. If it's not the best, she won't take it. You don't care about this stuff, Elena. The other piece isn't bad." I didn't answer right away. Something inside my chest went quiet. In my own family, Bianca always got the first slice, the clean seat, and the room with the view. My mother said she needed the best because she carried the Bellini name better. My father called it practical. Marriage worked that way too. The Bellinis and Morettis had promised one daughter to the Moretti heir long before either of us knew what love was. Everyone assumed that daughter would be Bianca. Instead, she made her position crystal clear: she'd rather keep her freedom and her spotless public image than become Mrs. Moretti. So Luca turned to the remaining Bellini daughter. I had known Luca for twenty years, and in his world, I always stood behind Bianca. I looked at the black onyx bracelet on the table and pushed it back. "Bianca can have both. I'm not choosing." I didn't want another leftover choice. Not anymore.

The school boxing match. My son Leo’s gloves were lined with broken glass. I carried him from the ring. Blood was everywhere, staining the canvas crimson. And Isabella, the monster behind it all, just stood there smirking. A snake's smile. She dragged her son over, then slapped me. Hard. Again and again. She tried to force me to my knees. "Some gutter trash like you… thinks he can challenge the Falcone heir? This is what happens. Believe me, I say the word, and you disappear. Poof." I just raised an eyebrow. The Falcone family has one heir this generation. My son, Leo. So when did a Falcone become gutter trash? I wiped the blood from my lip. I called the Don—the man my father made. "I hear the Falcone family has a new heir." Let's see who has the nerve to touch the old Don's grandson.

I saw a trending post on a werewolf forum: "How to get your mate to break the bond with you?" The poster said he was going to lie to his mate about going on a wilderness trial, but he was really planning to run off with his "true love." I silently scoffed. What a shameless scumbag. But the next day, my Alpha mate came home, smelling of another she-wolf. "For the future of our pack, I have to go on a lone wolf trial in the wilderness," he said. "We should temporarily break our mate bond." I looked at his phony face and nodded calmly. "Okay. Whatever you say. We'll break the bond tomorrow." Later, he took the family money and his lover and disappeared. But with his parents' support, I became an executive at the family company. He blew through all the money, ditched his lover, and came crawling back to the country, trying to win me over. But by then, I was already at my engagement party with another, far better Alpha. I said it from the beginning. He was the one who chose to abandon his family. Even if he wanted to come back, this place would be nothing but his personal hell.

On Thanksgiving, my husband Steven Mandel showed up with another woman. Not just anyone—Fiona Osborne, his first love. She had Alzheimer's and only remembered him. And yeah, he said she was moving in. Steven's eyes were ice. "Erica, I stayed away from Fiona out of duty. But I'm not wasting what time I have left without her." Happy 50th anniversary to me. No gift—just a slap-in-the-face love confession. Maya, my daughter-in-law, tried to talk some sense into him, bless her. Then Anton—my own son—cut in. "Mom already kept Dad away from Fiona for years. She's tied ME to you for half my life. Now Dad just wants to take care of the woman he loves—what's so wrong with that?" Steven stepped in front of Fiona like some kind of hero. "Anton's right. Erica, I let you play the wife role for decades. Now, I want to be with the woman I truly love. "If you can't handle that, let's just get a divorce." I stood there, frozen. I'd walked away from a powerhouse law career for this family after we had Anton. I thought I had given everything, and in their eyes, I would be a perfect wife and a perfect mother. But today made it clear—I was never enough. No matter how much I gave, it was never going to be enough. I turned to Maya. She was crying. "You wanna get divorced together?"

I was always sick as a kid. My parents were desperate. They’d try anything. So they got me a bunch of "guardian angels." Next thing I know, I'm set up and tossed into a horror game. Turns out, Medusa is my godmother. The ghost girl? My childhood playmate. And the final boss, a vampire? He's my fiancé. The first time we met, I was in a blind panic. I tripped and fell right onto his chiseled chest. "Oh—I'm so sorry! I wasn't looking—" I gasped, looking up at him. The words tumbled out in a rush. "And you're really handsome—but I didn't mean to fall on you! I have a heart condition!" The boss let out a laugh. He wiped the blood from his hands and swept me up into his arms. "Don't you worry," he purred, his voice dangerously smooth. "As your fiancé, I promise... I'll fix you right up."

When the wedding invitation from my high school classmate Ella Reese arrived, a video of her and her friends shoving the two-hundred-pound girl I used to be into a mud pit was already going viral. Her caption read, "Those were the days. Sophie Aubert, you absolutely have to be my bridesmaid." Our former classmates flooded the comments with jeers. "Ella's so generous. She'd actually invite a plagiarist? Will Sophie even fit into a bridesmaid dress? Making one for her would take enough fabric for three people." "It's been seven years. By now, they'd probably need a crane just to get her into the venue!" "Didn't she write Jack a love letter back then? He'll probably be so scared he'll cry." The groom, Jack Smith, replied in the comments, "If she actually has the nerve to show up, I'll dance with her in front of everyone. Call it an apology for throwing her into the fountain back then." The comment section exploded with people cheering him on. I calmly took a sip of unsweetened black coffee. They thought I was still the fat girl with no choice but to hide in a corner and cry. They had no idea I was now a fitness influencer with millions of followers, much less that the luxury estate they had rented for the wedding belonged to me. I replied in the comments, "No need for a bridesmaid dress. I'll be there on time." This time, I would tear down her perfect facade myself and give Ella a wedding she would never forget.

On the day of the World Rally Championship finals, I pressed the accelerator to the floor, ready for the final dash. The next moment, the engine exploded in a deafening roar, and thick smoke instantly filled the cockpit. Flames spread toward the fuel tank. I yanked at the door, desperate to jump out, but the handle wouldn’t budge, and the brakes felt welded in place. In that instant of despair, my husband’s voice came through the comms. “Attention, all teams, no need to rescue her. My wife is the Iron Racer! “For today’s live broadcast challenge, let’s see if she can drive this burning car across the finish line!” His co-commentator, recently recruited onto the team, chimed in with excitement. “Thomas, the sponsor just confirmed! As long as Jane holds on to the end, they’ll increase investment. I can get a permanent spot!” I understood instantly then that the husband on the commentary platform I had supported for years was using my life to pave the way for his mistress. Smoke clawed at my throat. However, I forced down the dizziness and begged, “For the sake of all our years together…” Only for him to cut me off with irritation. “Save your energy for driving. You’re skilled. Just hold on a little longer. Mandy’s promotion depends entirely on you.” The cockpit had become an inferno; my skin searing with every second. I gripped the blistering wheel, steering through the smoke for the last time. This time, my finish line was the commentary platform where the two of them were huddled together.

It is the third year of the apocalypse. All water sources have been thoroughly polluted, making even a single bottle of clean water extremely rare. Every base has to send out search teams to find new water sources for all. My husband, Jasper Curran, is a geologist, and so, he is able to locate water sources that are still pure and unpolluted. However, when someone holds a knife to my throat for the last bottle of water—thinking that he will do anything to stop them—he hands the only bottle of clean water to Avery Grayson, the person who claimed she was my parents' real daughter instead of me. "Ave is thirsty. She's been suffering since she was little and she even had her parents taken by you, Arianne Grayson," Jasper says. "Just let her have the water." Jasper's expression is too calm and collected, as if my life is not on the line because of him. "They're just trying to scare you. You've enjoyed so many years of being spoiled with a luxurious lifestyle anyway. So what if you get bullied a little?" The people then kick me to the ground in a fit of rage as I watch Jasper huddle Avery into his arms and disappear into the desert. I get beaten up so hard that my chapped lips crack and start bleeding once again. I look at the menacing faces around me and quickly exclaim, "Wait, wait! I can help you find clean water too!"

Wyatt became the Don of the Volkov Family. His first move? Proposing to me at his celebration gala. But I pushed the ring away. "We're done, Wyatt." He frowned. Scoffed. "Over that red diamond necklace? I told you I forgot. Next time. For Christmas, I swear." I nodded. "Yes. Exactly because of that." Two weeks ago, he passed the old Don's final test. Secured a massive arms route. He bought gifts for everyone. Even the new getaway driver got a gold Rolex. But he forgot our anniversary. Forgot the red diamond necklace I always wanted. I tried to brush it off. He promised me. Next time. Then came Sarah. His secretary. She posted a photo on Instagram. A red diamond necklace. The caption? "Best boss in the world. Knows exactly what I love." Wyatt didn't say a word to me. But he liked her post. We grew up in the same orphanage. We only had each other. He protected me from the bullies. Swore to be my shield. Even when the old Don adopted him as the heir, he demanded to take me with him. But things changed. The Cartel, the shipments, the power. Everything became more important than me. Even now. At his own gala. I just rejected his ring. I dumped him. Then his phone rang. Sarah's name flashed on the screen. She needed help. He chuckled. Patted my cheek. Forced the ring onto my finger anyway. He whispered in my ear. "Alright, stop throwing a tantrum. I know you won't leave me. That necklace? ” “Next time, I promise. Sarah's in a little jam. I gotta go." He rushed off. I didn't stop him. The party raged on. I pulled out my phone. Found the Sicilian number I ignored for years. I typed a text. "Grandpa, I'm in. I'm coming back to claim my birthright. See you in Sicily tomorrow." I slid his ring off. Left it on his desk. Wyatt. From now on, we rule our own empires. We owe each other nothing.

Thor and I grew up together—we were the definition of childhood sweethearts. We'd promised to attend the same university, graduate, and marry right after senior year. Everyone envied us. They said we were a perfect match, destined for a lifetime together. And I believed that too. I truly thought I'd spend the rest of my life with him. Until the final semester of our senior year in high school, when a new transfer student named Lina joined our class. At first, the two barely spoke. But as they grew familiar, their bond deepened in ways I could no longer ignore. He started staying after school to tutor her, bringing her breakfast every morning. When she was upset, he'd take her for a drive along the coast. If she craved Italian steak, he'd have fresh cuts flown in. Even during her period, he'd quietly prepare everything she needed. I was furious. I confronted him, argued with him, and even threatened to break up. The first time I said it, he thought I was joking and coaxed me out of my anger. The second time, he dismissed it as another tantrum and tried different ways to please me. The third time, he broke down—standing outside my house in the pouring rain all night, half kneeling before me, begging for forgiveness. Again and again, I tried to leave, and every time, he refused to let me go. Yet with each reconciliation, something in him shifted. He started taking me for granted, assuming I would always come back. His patience wore thin. His apologies turned perfunctory. Even when he came to make peace, there was no sincerity left in his voice. So I said it for the hundredth time, and that was the last. That was the moment I finally gave up on him.

With spring break approaching, a post offering a cash reward went viral on our campus message board. [Offering $500 for a travel itinerary that will help me spend $20,000 in seven days.] The poster had even added a note. [I need to spend most of it, because if I don’t, then my parents, my brother, and my childhood best friend Ethan will think that I didn’t enjoy myself.] Someone in the comments asked why all four of them were funding her vacation. She posted four screenshots of bank transfers. [Because they didn’t check with each other first, and each sent me $5,000.] The comments were full of people telling her how lucky she was. I recognized that profile picture immediately. The person behind the post was my younger sister. As it happened, the $500 she was offering for a travel itinerary was exactly what I would earn working seven days at the convenience store over spring break. I smiled bitterly. My family always had a system to divide up the responsibility for supporting us. My parents, my brother, and our childhood friend were split into two pairs. One pair would cover my sister’s allowance and give her a credit card linked to their account. The other would do the same for me. They said it would keep things fair and make sure that neither of us would be overlooked. However, after the semester started, I realized that I had received neither an allowance nor a card. When I asked Dad, he frowned. “Didn’t your mom send you the money?” I went to Mom next. “Wasn’t your dad supposed to take care of you?” she asked. With no one else to turn to, I asked my brother if he could add me to his credit card account. He looked surprised. “Hasn’t Ethan already done that?” When I tracked Ethan down, he said, “Your brother already got you a card.” At first, I thought they had simply gotten their wires crossed. Only then did I realize the truth. There had been no mix-up. Every single one of them had chosen my sister first. After a moment of thought, I left a comment under her post. [I’m her older sister. Anyone got a survival guide for getting through a week of spring break on $32?]

Before the deadline for college applications in the werewolf territories, everyone gathered around my twin sister to discuss where she should go. My older brother Damian, the Beta of our pack, pointed to Blackthorn Academy. “Of course you should choose Blackthorn. It’s my alma mater. Once you’re my junior, no one will dare bully you.” My boyfriend, Noah, pushed a Northstar Academy brochure toward her. “Don’t listen to your brother. Come to the capital with me. We can be classmates for another four years.” No one thought there was anything wrong with my boyfriend planning my sister’s future—not even Noah himself. My parents smiled in agreement. “With Noah and Damian looking after you, we won’t have to worry.” It wasn’t until there were only thirty minutes left before the application system closed that they remembered I had also taken the Seven Territories College Entrance Exam that year. My mother said casually, “Your grades are average. Just choose a college near the capital.” My brother didn’t even look up. “Right. That way, you can still come over on weekends and keep your sister company.” Noah, the Alpha heir, frowned at me, his voice carrying its usual note of criticism. “There are only thirty minutes left. Don’t miss the deadline because you were careless again and make everyone clean up your mess.” No one had asked about my exam score. And no one knew that the girl they had always dismissed as mediocre had ranked first in the entire Northern Territory. I slowly unclenched my fists and turned to the final page of the admissions guide. There was a university on the coast, twelve hundred miles away. If I accepted its offer, I would leave this pack for at least four years. This time, I didn’t remind them about me. I simply turned my laptop toward myself and clicked Confirm.

I was supposed to be nothing more than a doomed side character in someone else's story. After I woke up to the truth, though, I became the male lead's best friend instead—and ended up with the wealthy girl who had always loved him, leaving him free to live happily ever after with the school's golden girl. Ten years later, though, he made a very public announcement that he was single and back in town. Then, in the old class group chat that had been inactive for a long time, he sent two messages. [I'm back. We should all get together sometime.] [@Whitney Charlton, you'll be there, right?] The group chat exploded instantly. After all, everyone still remembered the golden boy we had known back then: the charming, arrogant guy who had been the center of attention everywhere he went. When graduation came, he had not chosen the aloof top student who had pursued him for four years. Even after all those years, it was still one of those things everyone wished had ended differently. I glanced down at Whitney, asleep beside me, and raised an eyebrow. I found it regrettable too. After all, I had been waiting ten years for this opportunity.

My parents made me submit a written request to the family accountant for any expense over five dollars. They said it would keep me from becoming vain. On the day of the car accident, I sat in the ER, struggling to stay still through the pain. I charged $200 for emergency treatment to the card linked to my father's account. The bandage was barely on when my parents called to tear into me. "Who said you could steal from this family? The Bennett family has rules, and they do not include feeding parasites who bleed us dry!" They froze every card I had on the spot. The hospital discharged me because I couldn't pay for further observation. So I walked. More than ten miles back to the Bennett estate on Long Island, bleeding through my clothes. I pushed the gate open and saw every light in the main house burning. My parents were throwing Sophia an enormous 18th birthday party. The custom cake at the center of the party, made by one of New York's top pastry chefs, had cost three hundred twenty thousand dollars. This time I didn't stand there and ask them why, the way I always had. I calmly signed the waiver of inheritance and the financial settlement. Then I turned around and left.

My online boyfriend dropped a bomb on me the day before freshman orientation day. He had been playing dice with a group of friends and lost a bet. Apparently, I was the prize. Before I could even figure out whether he was joking, he added me to a gaming group chat packed with more than a hundred people. The announcement at the top had already been changed. "Congratulations, Oliver! You just won yourself a 200-pound girlfriend!" A few seconds later, someone posted an old high school photo of me. It was a picture of me in my loose school uniform. As I was at nearly 200 pounds, my neck had practically disappeared into my shoulders. The chat instantly erupted. "Holy shit! That's not a girlfriend. That's a pig in human form." "A bet's a bet. Oliver, you have to do the couple challenge with her tomorrow." The jokes only got worse from there. Before long, someone even started a betting pool over whether I would have the nerve to show up the next night. My own boyfriend threw 10,000 at me and then backed out. "Don't blame me, man. You rolled a six. You won her fair and square." Oliver, the guy who had supposedly won me, stayed completely silent. Then, the girl everyone in the freshman group had already crowned the hottest girl on campus suddenly tagged me. "Lauren, you're coming tomorrow night, right?" I watched message after message fill the screen. Then, I smiled. They had no idea that I had spent the past several months preparing for the day I finally met my boyfriend in person. I was no longer the girl in that photo. I had gone from 200 pounds to 110. I'd been stopped by plenty of guys over the past two months. I'd gotten so many men asking for my number in the past couple of months than I had during the first 18 years of my life combined. None of the people laughing in that chat knew any of that. And I… Well, I didn't see the need to explain myself. Instead, I quietly put 3,000 on myself. My bet was simple. I would show up exactly on time. The entire group chat went crazy the moment they saw it. Mocking comments, jokes, and laughing emojis flooded the screen. I didn't say anything, letting their jeers fill the screen. Then, I sent one final message. "A bet's a bet."

A business trip took an unexpected turn when our plane ran into disaster. While everyone else was penning their last words, I, an orphan with nothing to lose, decided to have a little fun with my miserly boss. “Boss, let’s keep this short—I like you.” “I really, really like you.” “Boss, this is a final goodbye.” Just when all hope seemed lost, the captain pulled off a miracle with his years of experience, saving us from the brink of catastrophe. By the time we landed safely, I was still in a daze until I saw my boss, eyes bloodshot, storming toward me, flanked by a wall of black-suited bodyguards.