Love after Marriage Short Stories & Novels

On my wedding night, I saw another me from fifty years in the future through the bronze mirror on the dressing table. The old woman in the mirror was in the same manor I had just married into. Blushing, I touched my hair. "Fifty years from now, will I be surrounded by family, living peacefully together?" But the old woman only leaned against the dark bed in silence. Then, a yellowed painted portrait slipped from her sleeve and fell at her feet. I shyly said, "Is that the portrait Matthew promised me on our wedding night? He said we would grow old together, hand in hand." Only then did the old woman scoff and slowly move closer to the mirror. I looked carefully. The woman in the portrait on the floor was... Sabella, my closest friend. A chill went through me as my future self forced a bitter smile and stared straight at me. "The truth is that Sabella Lane was abducted and violated on your wedding night, and then she died. Because you stopped Matthew Cross, he became certain that you had sent people to do it. After that, he hated you and tortured you for fifty years. "Gwendolen Shaw, I have now revealed to you the truth ahead of time. Whether you still stop him from seeking out Sabella tonight or not is your choice."

I could see floating live-chat comments from the future. And that little trick saved me from dozens of cheating scumbags. But today, my adoptive parents gave me an ultimatum. I had to pick a fiancé, or else… The family’s real daughter, Wendy Wellington, who was recently found and welcomed back with open arms, clutched my hands. Tears welled in her eyes as she pointed to a man in a wheelchair. The man, Harry Peterson, wore a faded undershirt and a tattered blanket over his knees. Word on the street was that he had gone bankrupt, owing over a hundred million dollars. "Sister, my health is too fragile for a hard life," Wendy sniffled while trying to hide her smirk. "What would people say if the real heiress was seen riding a public bus? “You’re so much stronger than me. Do this one for the sake of the family." She glanced over at a guy leaning against a blood-red Ferrari nearby. "I’ll handle the billionaire’s son," she added quickly. "You shouldn't be blinded by money to make a mistake." I looked at Harry in the wheelchair. Floating right above his head was a wall of glowing comments. “LOL! She’s dumping the city’s richest hidden billionaire for a guy who’s going to prison next week?” “He’s only playing broke and disabled to catch his rivals off guard. Once he clears his name next month, his net worth is going to skyrocket!” I squeezed my sister’s hands tight and a sweet smile spread across my face. "Since you've put so much thought into my future, I would hate to disappoint you," I said. "I'll take the guy in the wheelchair.”

I'd known Ethan for twenty years. We'd been together for five. Everyone was certain that at the Rose Crown Gala, I would place the crown in his hands and publicly confirm our engagement, sealing the alliance between our families. But when I walked onto the stage, the person standing beside him was my adopted sister, Claire. She wore a custom white gown, my mother's missing rose diamond ring glinting on her finger. Behind them, the screen that should have displayed my name alongside Ethan's had been changed to theirs. The most laughable part? They'd been together behind my back for six months. My father ordered me in front of every guest, "Give Claire the crown. We'll discuss this at home!" They wanted to throw me out of my own family. My crown was tossed aside and landed in the arms of a mud-streaked stranger the guards had mistaken for a homeless man. I didn't hesitate. I pulled off my engagement gloves and walked up to him. "Will you marry me?" But after marrying that homeless stranger, I became the most powerful woman in the country.

After my parents died in battle saving the Alpha, Theron Blackwood, the Blackmane Pack took me in as an orphan. To repay them for saving his life, Alpha Theron laid down a rule: whoever became my mate would be the next Alpha. Growing up, I always believed that person would be Damian Blackwood. He was Alpha Theron's chosen heir and the man who had pulled me away from Redfang's silver blades twelve years earlier. I loved him, loved him enough to believe him without question, no matter what he said or did. But on the night of the blood moon, when the groom who looked exactly like Damian pushed back his hood, I instinctively reached for the mole at the corner of his eye. The ink wasn't dry yet. The mole smeared. I froze, realizing that the man at the altar, the man who had just exchanged vows with me, was not Damian. He was Damian's youngest uncle, Adrian Blackwood, identical to him except for the missing mole at the corner of his eye. Damian had thrown our mating contract, and me, to someone else. He was certain I loved him more than life itself, certain he could switch everything back before long. But this time, I was done bending to his will. So the first thing I did that night was wipe away the painted mole, along with twelve years of love.

The night before the bride-selection ceremony, my best friend was having sex with my childhood friend in the most sacred underground chapel. "You're getting married tomorrow... and I'm just a stray from the slums. How could I ever be worthy of you?" Chloe said, her voice thick with tears. Victor Moretti pulled her closer into his arms. "Isn't what we're doing here proof enough of how I feel? Relax. I've already rigged tomorrow's draw. God will choose you, and only you." "But will your family accept me? Everyone knows Elia is your fiancee. Tomorrow's ceremony is just a formality..." "A formality?" He scoffed. "She doesn't even deserve the effort of me going through the motions. My wife is whoever I say she is." I stood behind the door, my nails digging deep into my palms until the sharp sting kept me alert. I used to think we were each other's rock. But from the beginning, I had been the only one who felt that way. Victor, if tomorrow's ceremony is nothing but a show you can rig however you please, I'm done playing my part. Seven days later, I walked toward the wedding car in my gown. Victor charged toward me like a man possessed, clinging to the car door as he screamed, "Elia, don't marry him! I love you..." I slapped him hard across the face and enunciated every word. "From now on, call me Aunt Elia."

My sister and I were both reborn on the very day the marriage pacts were to be chosen. In our previous life, she was the one who married Adrian, the Black-Armored Duke whose reputation for cold brutality struck fear into all. She endured his indifference until she was cast out and sent back to the Vere family in disgrace. I married Lucian, the White Knight, gentle and gracious as carved jade. I wore the Duchess's coronet and became the envy of all. She was consumed by jealousy, convinced I had stolen her true love. So she killed me. And so, this time around, she rushed ahead of everyone else, personally tying the white stag ribbon that represented Lucian, shoving the Black Wolf that everyone feared straight into my path. She was certain she had seized the glory that was meant for me. She had no idea that the dazzling life of a Duchess had cost me endless drug trials, prolonged captivity, and countless escape attempts that nearly killed me. The moment Lucian leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to the back of her hand, I heard his icy thought. [Which drug should I try tonight that won't leave marks?] My sister was still basking in the thrill of her conquest. She thought she had stolen my golden life. She had no idea that what she was clutching so tightly was the very hell I had spent my entire previous life fighting to escape.

In my past life, my sister and I got married on the same day. I married Ethan Vance, a conservative, old-school business tycoon. My fiery temper clashed with his family's rigid rules, and we fought constantly. My sister Seraphina married General Alexander Marshall, a cold and ruthless military man. She was gentle and timid, and while her husband was always away on duty, his adopted sister Sophia tormented her endlessly until she fell into depression and died. The first thing I did when I was reborn was swap husbands with my sister. Before the wedding, I made a deal with Alexander: "This is just a political marriage. We each get what we need. No feelings involved." But after we married, he became obsessed with my body. He kissed me over and over, whispering in my ear: "Are you sure about that, baby?"