Lovesick Fool Plot Twists Short Stories & Novels

I went through hell for a man I met on an underground forum. I traded my thick-rimmed glasses for laser eye surgery, wore painful wire braces for two years, and endured agonizing laser treatments for my acne. A posture coach beat a graceful walk into me with a riding crop. I clawed my way from being the Pierce family's "four-eyed ugly duckling," the girl nobody looked at twice, and became someone who turned heads. But the night before we were supposed to meet, I scrolled past a post on another dark web forum. "Selling my internet girlfriend for cheap. We're meeting soon." "Been together over a year. Sweet voice, soft personality, great emotional support. DM if interested." Someone commented to ask why he was dumping such a perfect girl. The original poster replied: "I paid a hacker to get her address and pull surveillance footage. She's some hideous hillbilly with a mouth full of metal. The sight of her made me sick." The comment section erupted in jeers: "I was going to buy her for some fun, but I lost my appetite the second I saw that picture. What an ugly country bumpkin with a mouth full of braces." "Who would want this kind of trash? She's all yours, hahaha." Scrolling to the very bottom, only one ID had replied with two words: "DM me." I tapped on the original poster's avatar and zoomed in. The black cat silhouette was identical to my online boyfriend's profile picture. The post was dated three months ago.

In our third year of marriage, Jillian Holt changed the name she had saved my number under. It wasn't "Dear" anymore. It was "7:00 pm to 7:30 pm". She said she set aside only half an hour a day for personal matters. If I messaged her a minute early, she wouldn't reply. If the text was even a minute late, she wouldn't reply either. Once, I had a fever of 102.2°F and was hooked up to an IV at the hospital. I called her seven times. At 7:00 pm, she called me back right on time. "You have 29 minutes left. Get to the point." I asked hoarsely if she could come pick me up. She glanced at her schedule. "29 minutes isn't enough for a round trip. Get a cab yourself." I had always thought she was just too busy with work, so I never dared waste a second of that half hour each night. I would write down what I wanted to say ahead of time and keep my complaints brief. Then, one night at 1:00 am, a clap of thunder woke me up. No one was beside me. In the living room, Jillian was leaning against the couch, revising a proposal for her project manager, Jesse Cohen. On the screen, Jesse chuckled. "Ms. Holt, it's already 1:00 am. Am I taking up too much of your time?" Jillian let out a soft laugh. "When have I ever kept track of the time when you needed me?" Standing behind the door, I suddenly remembered knocking on her study door three hours earlier. I was doubled over with stomach pain. She had said, "You've used up your time for today." I returned to my room and turned off the alarm I had set on my phone for 6:59 pm every day. At 7:00 pm the next day, Jillian didn't get a message from me for the first time.

Teresa Gardner, my girlfriend, is thrilled when I hand over the design drafts I spent so long working on to Quentin Solomon, her first love. She is so happy that she agrees to travel to Jarevon with me. Yet the moment we reach the airport, Quentin calls her. "I got into an accident. I really want to see you right now. Please don't leave with him, Teresa!" Teresa, who is usually so level-headed, panics and desperately pleads with me to let her go see Quentin. In the end, even as our friends keep sending us well wishes for our trip to Jarevon in the group chat, I can only smile as I release Teresa's hand and let her go to Quentin. Teresa's eyes well up with tears the moment she sees how thoughtful and understanding I am, as always. "I swear this will be the last time. I'll come back and marry you once I've checked on Quentin's condition, Aaron." I remind myself it's the 96th time I've done this for Teresa. I muse that perhaps I just have to hold on a little longer. If fulfilling these last three requests doesn't fix things between us, I'll walk away completely—Teresa and I will go our separate ways and never cross paths again.

I have been dating my manager boyfriend, Caleb Frost, for five years. He calls off our wedding 52 times for Gina Lowe, an aspiring actress on the set. On the day I am ready to give up on him and walk away, Gina falsely accuses me of using expired makeup on her that caused an allergic reaction. So Caleb shoves me into a sealed cellar and locks me inside. As he pushes me down, his face is twisted in disgust. "It's one thing to pick on Gina, but to use expired makeup on her and cause an allergy? Do you know how important an artist's face is? "Stay down there and think about your wrongdoings." With that, he drags the crying Gina to the hospital. The cellar's air vent is blocked. Every breath I take grows harder until I suffocate to death inside. Three days later, Caleb remembers me only after attending a gathering with Gina. But little does he know, I am already dead from the lack of oxygen in that dark cellar.

My online boyfriend was ridiculously clingy. Every single night, he insisted on phone calls. He needed the sound of my voice just to fall asleep. It was way past midnight. Hearing his low, heavy panting through my phone made my face burn and my heart race. "Keep it down," I whispered into the mic. "My roommate is right next door." My roommate was a total mystery. I had no idea what he actually did for a living, but he was loaded—and terrifying. I definitely didn't want to piss him off. Then, floating right before my eyes, glowing text boxes suddenly flashed into thin air: [Does she really not know? The guy next door IS her online boyfriend! It's Matteo, the mafia don!] [Matteo holds massive grudges. If he finds out she's just a paid stand-in chatting for someone else, he'll blow her head off!] [Such a shame. This whole story turns into a total angst-fest later. Otherwise, I'd high-key ship them!] Mafia don? Online boyfriend? And how on earth do these floating texts know I'm chatting on someone else's behalf?! Busted. Panic surged through me. I slammed the end button. I bolted into the hallway, desperate to splash cold water on my face in the bathroom to get a grip. But as I hurried past, a raspy, shaking murmur seeped through the steamy crack of the shower door. "Baby... why'd you hang up on me?"

When I was deep in love, I traded fifty years of my lifespan to save my girlfriend. Seven years later, on our wedding day, the System notified me that I only had three days left to live. I called my girlfriend, hoping she wouldn’t be late so I could have closure. Then, a phone began ringing behind me. I turned around to see her dressed in a white wedding dress, though it wasn’t the one I had chosen for her. She was holding my younger brother’s hand, and with her head hung low, she said sheepishly, “Henry is terminally ill and doesn’t have much time left. His only wish is to get married. Can you compromise and let him have this wedding?” My father chimed in, “An older brother should always accommodate his younger brother. It’s only right.” My mother knelt before me, begging, “Your brother is dying! Please, I’m begging you as your mother.” I saw the triumphant smirk in my brother’s eyes, but no one else in the room seemed to notice. Instead, everyone scrambled to speak up on his behalf. I smiled faintly. I no longer wanted this closure. “Alright,” I said. “He can have the wedding.” And he could have her, too. My girlfriend happily wrapped her arms around my neck. “I knew you were the kindest and most generous person! Don’t worry, this is just a game to fulfill his wish. I’ll make it up to you with a wedding every year from now on.” Unfortunately, I only had three days left. There would be no “from now on.”

My father died saving Conrad Nelson, the Don of the Nelson family. Conrad took me in to repay that debt and raised me alongside the three most promising boys in the family. From then on, I was the family's little princess. Those three boys would give me anything I asked for. I loved afternoon tea at the Ritz, so they chartered a private flight just to take me there. To make me smile, they spent three million dollars on a fireworks show. They swore they would protect me with their lives, and I trusted them with everything I had. I thought I'd spend the rest of my life with one of them. Then, during a gang war, they saved Serena Blake, a street flower seller caught in the crossfire. She barely had to do anything. Every day, she brought them a bouquet and a few soft, caring words. Two weeks later, Eli Warren scolded me for the first time. He called me spoiled because I'd thrown out the flowers Serena sent. The other two immediately defended me. "Violet's allergic to pollen! How can you hold that against her?" Eli was Conrad's most trusted advisor, the one who always thought everything through. It was the first time he'd ever taken a side against me. The next day, I walked in on Serena dressing Tristan Cole's wounds. Tristan ran security for the family. He was usually cold and ruthless, but now that hard edge was gone. He sat there and let Serena tend to him. In tears, I went to Christian Hayes, the family heir. He held me tight. "Violet, I'll always be here for you." But on my 18th birthday, Christian got a text from Serena. She said someone was harassing her. He left me without a second thought and ran off to save her. That was the last straw. I went and knocked on the door of Conrad's study. "Don, I'm ready to marry the man in Italy."

Natalie used to hate stuffed animals. Now she's head-over-heels for a cotton doll. She called it "honey" and told our daughter, Yara, it was her real dad. Cool. Guess that made me the family ghost. At Yara's parent-teacher conference, I finally snapped and handed Natalie the divorce papers. Cue the gasps. Suddenly, I'm the villain. She slapped me—full drama mode. "It's just a doll! Why are you being so extra?" Yara hugged it like it was about to save the world, giving me the death stare. I shrugged, smirking. "You're the one who said it's your dream husband and Yara's one and only dad. So, like... why am I still here?"

Five years after their breakup, Lauren Scott signed a master-servant contract with Yale Sutton, the ex-boyfriend who had been penniless when they were together. Yale would pay off her debts, and in return, Lauren had to fulfill his every demand. "Lauren, take off one piece of clothing, and I'll knock a million off your debt." Yale spoke slowly, his voice dripping with mockery. Around the private room, the men hooted and cheered while the women laughed and made teasing remarks. Lauren gritted her teeth. "Fine. Just don't go back on your word, Mr. Sutton." Without a moment's hesitation, she unbuttoned her blouse and let it fall to the floor, baring her porcelain-white skin and most of her full, rounded breasts. The room fell silent for a moment before whistles erupted from every direction.

When Penelope Lawson opened her eyes, her brother was already drugged. "Penny… I'm so hot..." Her brother—a man who was usually ice-cold and completely untouchable—was driven out of his mind by the aphrodisiac. Throwing all restraint to the wind, his ragged breath brushed against her neck as his lips pressed desperately against her skin. In her past life, she would have let the mistake happen. But this time, she shoved him off with all her strength and immediately dialed his first love’s number. Because in her last life, every single tragedy began on this exact night. A night when she had allowed herself to fall for the brother who shared none of her blood.

Josephine Ellery was dead, and everyone said Tessa Wrenford had killed her. "Tessa Wrenford, you have been found guilty of involuntary manslaughter. I sentence you to five years in prison." The judge brought down his gavel. Still dressed in her jail uniform, Tessa was led out of the courtroom by officers gripping her arms. From the gallery, Beckett Lockridge watched her with an icy stare. He was the man she'd loved for ten years. Now he was also the man who had put her behind bars. When their eyes met, she could almost hear the words he wanted to say: "Tessa, I'll make your life a living hell."

I used to think the Moon Goddess had given me three mates to choose from. Cyrus Vance was sharp-tongued, but he was always the first to come running when I got hurt. Draven Locke was quiet, but he would guard my door late into the night. Knox Hollis was gentle. He once promised to stay by my side for the rest of his life. They were the strongest warriors of the Frostmoon pack. And I was the Alpha's only daughter. From the day I was born, they protected and spoiled me as if I were their most precious treasure. Then Nara came into our lives. She had no family or allies, and she brought along a pup everyone shunned. All she had to do was show up, and suddenly, I was invisible. They said that aside from being the Alpha's daughter, I had nothing going for me. Nara, on the other hand, was strong and independent, and far more worth following. Cyrus stopped watching over me. Instead, he started protecting Nara, even treating me coldly for the first time because of her. Draven stopped coming to my door, too. To protect Nara and her pup, he volunteered for a near-suicidal mission in rogue territory. And Knox was the one who changed the most. He stopped answering when I called for him, and then, right to my face, he announced his decision. "I'm going to mark Nara." He said I had a father, a pack, and countless wolves to choose from. He said I wouldn't really lose anything. If that was how they felt, I would give them what they wanted. The night before the marking ceremony Cyrus had planned for Nara, I went to my father's office. "I'm willing to form a mating alliance with the Northern Snow Wolf Pack."

It was near the end of May when I got off my night shift and got a call from my younger self, right before the SAT. "Eight years from now, am I happy? Am I living abroad, or working at Collins Corporation? "Charlotte said I don't need the SAT. She's taking me overseas." He sounded excited, already planning to spend the next few days doing whatever he wanted. I looked down at the grease on my uniform. Behind me was a cramped factory dorm, a cramped room packed with 12 beds. "Charlotte's getting married today," I said. "But you're not the groom." He sucked in a breath. "That's impossible. She said she'd marry me." Last night, Charlotte Collins texted me. [Don't come tomorrow. You work at a factory. You'll embarrass me.] His voice caught. "Who is it? Do I know him?" I said calmly, "Open the math worksheet in your bag. Finish it, and I'll tell you who she's marrying."

Marie Hail had been groomed since childhood to be the perfect good girl. Every aspect of her life was tightly controlled. Her parents approved the colors she wore, forbade her from wearing skirts above the knee, and insisted she take small bites and chew each mouthful thoroughly. She was little more than a marionette, with her parents pulling the strings and dictating her every move. However, everything began to change when she turned eighteen and met Rylan Stafford, a boy who burst into her carefully controlled world like a blazing sun. Rylan had striking features, bright, lively eyes, and a wild, uninhibited laugh. More importantly, he was everything Marie had never dared to be. He took her on reckless motorcycle rides to the beach and drove her across the mountains to watch meteor showers. He even gave her a tattoo, a symbol of freedom inked onto her back. Through him, Marie discovered a world beyond the suffocating rules that had governed her life. As he encouraged her to challenge every restriction holding her back, she gradually found the courage to break free and embrace a passion she'd never known. Rylan was a living flame, and Marie willingly let herself be consumed by him. One day, he asked, "Princess, how about we turn in blank exam papers together during finals?"

In order to marry Layla Weiss, I cut ties with my family. My dad, Dan Cruise, crossed my name out of the family tree right then and there. My mom, Maryam Cruise, slapped me across the face and told me that she no longer considered me her son. I had no regrets. The engagement party was set for the International Trade Center banquet hall. We sent out 200 invitations. I waited for three hours wearing a borrowed suit. She did not show up. I could not reach her by phone, and she did not reply to my texts. I smiled and told the guests that she had to go on a last-minute business trip. After the party ended, I cleaned up the mess all by myself. A trending topic popped up on my phone. [The Weiss Family’s Eldest Granddaughter Gets Married. The Groom Is Her Childhood Sweetheart] In the photo, she was wearing a floor-length gown, arm-in-arm with Alban Carter. They stood outside the city hall with their copies of marriage certificate in hand. The date on the certificate was three days ago. I folded the borrowed suit, packed it into a bag, and dialed a number I had not called in three years. “Mom, can I come home?”

I was super clingy, always trailing after my boyfriend, Nate, like a lost puppy, constantly craving more of his attention. Tonight as I snuggled in his arms, pressing soft kisses to his lips as usual, I suddenly saw translucent comments fleshing across my vision, one after another. "Hasn't she noticed our Nate, the male lead, is trying his best to avoid her?" "Nate hates physical contact, especially with her. She can't seriously think he's with her because he loves her, right?” "Relax. Nate's true love, the heroine, is about to appear. Once she does, he's going to dump this stupid bitch so hard." My heart skipped a beat. The next second, I pulled away from Nate's chest. Nate glanced down at me. Something that looked suspiciously like irritation flickered across his face. “What’s wrong?" he asked.

At six in the evening, Allen Bennett prepared a perfect dinner, with each dish carefully chosen to match Sarah Foster's preferences. By seven, he had run her bath, adding lavender essential oils and rose petals to the warm water, filling the bathroom with a calming fragrance. By eight, he placed her comfortable slippers by the entrance, awaiting her return. At nine, the front door finally opened. Sarah walked in, and Allen immediately went to greet her. With practiced grace, he helped her out of her coat and placed her slippers before her feet, then hung the coat in the entryway closet. Turning to her with a gentle smile, he asked, "Would you prefer to have your bath first or would you like to eat?"

House Ashbourne had a rule for marrying off its daughters: a suitor had to shoot down the ceremonial orb hung high in the family chapel, blindfolded, before he could come to claim his bride. I'd been foretold at birth to become queen. My parents didn't want me to suffer in the palace, so they promised me as a child to the heir of House Hawthorne. But Cedric Hawthorne, an archer who never missed and was hailed as the army's rising star, failed to hit the orb for five straight years after I came of age. I went from the most envied girl in the capital to its laughingstock. When word reached the palace, the Crown Prince came to our house himself and said he'd like to try. I hurried to my father's study, only to hear Cedric's voice, low and hushed. "Next month Rosamund leaves to marry far away in the south. I don't want to spend the little time we have left as nothing more than her sister's fiance." My sister threw herself into his arms, her voice thick with tears. "If only you weren't Evelina's fiance." Even my parents, who'd always doted on me, sighed and went along with it. "He's already missed five times. What's the harm in making Evelina wait one more year?" My heart lurched as it finally hit me: every hurt I'd suffered these five years had come from the people closest to me. Fighting back the sting of tears, I turned to the man who'd followed me there. "Then, Your Highness, I'd ask you to come to the family chapel and try."

My sister and I married into wealthy families at the same time and became glamorous society wives. She had been childhood sweethearts with her husband, a CEO who was admired and respected by all. On the surface, their marriage was harmonious and respectful. But three years after the wedding, she got drunk one night and tearfully confessed to me. "Carrie… he's seeing someone else. He even has a love child now. They've been together longer than we've been married. He's been lying to me all this time. I'm just a joke to him." My eyes burned, brimming with unshed tears. "Actually… Kai's cheating too. He even bought his mistress a luxury car." We cried together all night. Gradually, our sorrow slowly turned into cold, clear resolve. "I don't want that bastard anymore, Carrie." "It's okay, Rachel. If you're walking away, I am too. I don't want my scumbag husband either." After a long talk, we made our final decision: Since this life wasn't working, we'd disappear. We'd leave it all behind and vanish without a trace.

My adopted brother, the powerful Mafia heir Knox, had one strict rule. He despised every woman who tried to climb into his bed. And I was the only woman by his side who hadn't been chased away. That was until a family dinner, when someone exposed the secret I had guarded for years in front of everyone. "Do you know that your most trusted, sweet little sister completely lusting after your body?!" The entire room went dead silent. I lowered my eyes, waiting for the inevitable abandonment. But the next second, Knox pulled me into his arms with a playful smirk. "So what if I know? We're soulmates." It turned out he had known about my secret crush all along, yet he just watched me make a fool of myself. I was too tired to play his game anymore. I turned around and accepted a marriage proposal from another man. But on the night of my engagement, that usually aloof heir kicked my bedroom door open, his eyes red with fury. Watching him completely lose his mind, I just stood to the side and let out a soft laugh. A master hunter never strikes first. She only needs to act like the prey.