Historias cortas y novelas de Male POV Awakening

I've had a crush on my fiancée for years, and we're finally about to get married. Yet I'm willing to jump off a building just to avoid marrying her—all because I've been reborn. In my past life, she and I were married for over two decades. We were the perfect couple in everyone's eyes. However, the fairy tale came to an abrupt end on our 25th wedding anniversary. She took her own life, and she did it with her true love. As I kneeled before her grave, I asked, "Did you regret marrying me?" I knew I wouldn't hear her response, so I answered myself. "I regret marrying you." When I open my eyes again, I find myself back to before the wedding happens. I decide to run away. This time, I want us to become nothing but estranged acquaintances. To my surprise, she comes to me, looking like she's terminally ill. She says, "I've never regretted marrying you. Whether in this lifetime or the past, you're the only one I've ever wanted to marry."

The year my younger brother, Casey Sullivan, is diagnosed with a heart disease, the doctor says he won't live past 25 years old. From then on, everyone keeps repeating the same thing. "Casey doesn't have much time left." Wanda Locke, my childhood friend, throws my birthday cake into the trash. "Casey doesn't have much time left. He can't eat anything sweet, so just let him have this." Gia Sullivan, my older sister, tears up my acceptance letter to the boxing program at the sports university. "Casey doesn't have much time left. He can't box, and watching you practice would upset him. So just let him have this." My fiancée, Hazel Grant, postpones our wedding three times. "Casey doesn't have much time left. He'll never get the chance to marry. Just let him have this." I ask them, "Just because Casey doesn't have long to live, does that mean I don't deserve to live either?" Mom hears this and immediately goes on a hunger strike. She lies down in the hospital bed next to Casey's. "If I can't even make this sacrifice for Casey, then I'll die with him." On the third day, I stand outside the hospital room and swear never to bring up the wedding again. Later, Casey wants to experience being in love. Mom says, "Casey doesn't have much time left. He's never been in a relationship, so let him have Hazel for a few years." I walk out of the hospital room. "Casey doesn't have much time left, but I want to live a little longer. That's why I'm leaving."

I'm an artist, but a car accident takes away my sight. My childhood sweetheart, Clara Vance, stays by my side when I'm at my lowest. She becomes the only light in my life, and we eventually get married. Two years later, I accidentally come across an audio recording on her computer. "Clara, thanks for saving me, but you told the doctor to take Brandon's corneas without his permission and used them to restore my sight. "What are you going to tell him when he wakes up? What if he calls the police? What are we going to do?" "He'll never find out the truth. He can't see anymore, so I'll marry him and keep him under my control. Desmond, I'd do anything for you." It feels as though someone has just dumped a bucket of ice water over me, sending a chill through me. The woman I thought had saved me has been lying to me from the very beginning. After sending a copy of the audio recording to my phone, I call a lawyer to draw up the divorce papers. Then I head to the hospital alone for a follow-up eye exam. If that's what really happened, then it's time for me to end things with Clara.

In my previous life, my girlfriend's childhood friend impersonated a rich heir and messed around with the fake power he had. I exposed him, and he crashed his car into me. In my final moments, my girlfriend's sister begged on her knees, pleading for my girlfriend's aid, hoping she could save me, but my girlfriend did nothing. "He wouldn't do that. Zacharias is beyond this. He would never dirty his hands for a nobody like this guy. He might be my boyfriend, but that doesn't mean he can do anything he wants. He'd better know his place." My girlfriend's sister remained on the ground for three days. In the end, Zacharias dragged her away, violated her, and killed her. Even at my dying breath, my girlfriend was still covering up for her childhood friend. She refused to believe Zacharias hit someone with a car and violated her sister. And then I was reborn. This time, I did not beg and plead for my girlfriend to give me a moment of her time. I called my brother instead. "Hey? Yeah, it's me. Some bastard impersonated me and is dragging my name through the mud. I need you to take that guy out. Also, I'm not marrying Annabelle Lawson. I'm taking her sister instead." I gave the Lawsons a lot of resources so they could grow, and what did I get in the end? An ungrateful woman who would leave me stranded and dying all for another man. With all their resources pulled, Annabelle and her childhood friend would be saying goodbye to their good old days and hello to their personal hell.

I have been reborn on the day Sierra Shepherd regains her memories. I watch as the butler hands me a check and says, "Here's 1.5 million dollars. You can think of it as a reward for taking care of Ms. Shepherd during this time." His implication is unmistakable. He wants me to take the money and get out of her life for good. In my past life, as the Shepherd family hands over the check, I feel lost and uncomfortable. Sierra grips my hand firmly and says, "You should come home with me, Caleb. I'll protect you." I return with her to the Shepherd family without looking back because of her single promise. I block every scheme aimed at her, fight alongside her step by step, and help her reclaim control of the family. I have helped her until the day she holds her wedding banquet with Mason Lund, who instructs the Lunds to kidnap me and throw me into the sea. Sierra only responds coldly after hearing the news of my death, saying, "He was just a guy using past favors to try to climb the social ladder. He's better off dead." I snap back to reality and look at the check in front of me. I then say without any hesitation, "I'm afraid 1.5 million dollars won't be enough." I smile faintly as Sierra stares at me in disbelief. "I want 4.5 million dollars. I won't bother you and Mr. Lund as soon as I receive the money." I won't go back to being someone else's sacrifice since I have this startup capital. Isn't it much better to just focus on making money and living my best life on my own?

My wife, Carla Clayton, suddenly develops a serious illness, so I rush to the hospital to donate a kidney to her. But the anesthesia wears off, and I hear Carla tell the nurse, Betty Farrell, to throw the kidney they've removed from me into the trash can after surgery. Unable to bear watching this, Betty says, "Carla, I know your husband, Trevor Draper, refused to throw the match and surrender the championship title back then. "And that drove your first love, Ivan Huston, to jump off a building, leaving him partially paralyzed. But surely you wouldn't go so far as to betray Trevor's love for you just to get back at him, would you?" Carla lets out a sigh. "Trevor was the one who wronged Ivan first, and I promised Ivan I would get justice for him 99 times." "But aren't you afraid Trevor will divorce you if you keep doing this?" "As long as none of you tells him, he won't find out. There are only three times left anyway. Once I've repaid this debt, I'll spend the rest of my life treating Trevor well to make it up to him." My heart turns ice-cold. Since Carla loves Ivan so much, I'll walk away and let them have each other.

Everyone knows I'm Sinead Powell's most loyal dog. I take bullets for her during the day and share her bed at night. In the past ten years, I've never once crossed the line. But on the day Sinead secures the western coast partnership deal, I kneel in the Powell family chapel and formally ask to leave. Sinead's grandfather, Gregory Powell, stares at me with an intimidating gaze. "Are you sure you want to leave the Powell family?" I prostrate myself and press my forehead to the ground. "Please grant my request, Mr. Powell." I came from a reclusive family that specializes in combat arts. When my father was falsely accused and sent to prison, Gregory's wife, May Powell, has stepped in and saved his life. To repay her kindness, Dad assigned me to protect her only granddaughter, Sinead. Three years ago, Wesley White appeared with the emerald pendant left behind by the late May and became Sinead's fiancé. He subjected me, her loyal bodyguard who she barely even acknowledges as her lover, to relentless torment. Over the past three years, I've had a broken leg and lost my eyesight. The worst torture I've suffered is when Wesley lost a bet and handed me over like a plaything to a sadistic South Arlian businesswoman. I was brutally carved up 99 times, and my body was still covered in scars to this day.

Wendy and James had been married for eight years. One day, Wendy told James that she wanted to have a child with another man, and she wanted to hold a wedding with that man as well. Faced with James's questioning, Wendy didn't beat around the bush. "You're infertile and he's willing to give me a child. We're only having a child and holding a wedding. That's all. We won't be getting a marriage certificate, so he has no effect on your status." James's heart turned cold. He arranged the best wedding for Wendy and the man named "Sean." Wendy was very happy with how obedient James was. When they were saying their vow, James was lying on the operating table all alone and was erasing all his memories of Wendy from his mind.

After my family went bankrupt, my wife, Claire Finley, was drowned in the river by debt collectors. To pay off our debts, I took on a job at an underground casino as a human punching bag. Every punch I took earned me 50 bucks. Then, one day, I'm about to deliver drinks to a private room. Through the crack in the door, I see Claire—supposedly dead—sitting in the seat of honor, leisurely sipping a glass of fine red wine. "It's been over three years since I last saw Nathan. I wonder how he's doing." Dad, dressed in a sharp suit despite our family's so-called bankruptcy, sighs. "He's probably been hiding away, grieving for a few years. Once he gets over it, he can always find someone else. Whatever happens, you and Victor will get to live in peace, so long as he believes you're dead." Victor Gray is Dad's son with his first love. A glance around the private room reveals nothing but familiar faces. My once-close friends are all there, along with the very people who have supposedly killed Claire. So, everything has been a setup from the start. The only thing that has been real is the hell I've endured over the past three years. Balancing 20 bottles of beer in my arms, I smile and shake my head. Once I save up 80 dollars for an urn, they can finally be free of me.

Ten years after my family finally found me, I took our family's company to new heights. To celebrate, my family prepared a special gift for me. After the meal, Mom and Dad handed me a box. I opened it, and a handwritten card slipped out. "To my precious son Logan. May you always be happy and safe. You'll forever be the heart of our family." Except my name wasn't Logan. My name was Asher. It was supposed to stand for how much they'd missed me. Logan was their adopted son. I stared at the card for ten full seconds. There were five of us in the family, including Logan. Not one person said a word. My hand froze in midair, still holding the gift. In that moment, I finally understood. No matter how hard I tried, I would never measure up to the son they'd taken in.

The royal family once helped the Foxkin of Moonveil. For generations, the Foxkin had sent their youngest daughters to the royal palace to repay that debt. Each prince had a Foxkin companion who looked after him and kept him safe. My elder brother, Alaric Ashbourne, had a Foxkin who fought fiercely by his side on the frontier for years. In the end, they fell in love and married. My Foxkin was named Evelina Wrenwood. I felt sorry for her. She had left her home and would never be able to return to her clan, so I never restricted her freedom. I always gave her the finest things first, never expecting anything in return. People said I spoiled her rotten, but I pretended not to hear them. Yet Evelina ignored all I did for her and kept urging me to put brotherly love first and entrust Alaric with greater authority. That day, I personally brought her a basket of summer peaches from the southern duchies. But when I stepped out of her room, I saw a swarm of tiny words floating in midair. [That's what you get for chasing a woman who doesn't want you. You end up with nothing!] [Why force Evelina to be yours? Her heart belongs to Prince Alaric. Doesn't he get it?] [She's doing everything she can to put Prince Alaric on the throne. Cassian, the crown prince, is just a fool!]

After Yvonne Preston's childhood sweetheart, Oliver Emerson, hits someone while drunk driving, she gets on her knees and begs me to take the fall for him. "Ollie's father saved my life. Can't you endure this for my sake? Once you get out, we'll get married." I nod with tears in my eyes, only to discover after entering prison that my two-month sentence has been turned into six years. I attempt to retract my statement, but all I get in return is a brutal beating. "We've been told to keep a close eye on you. Who the hell do you think you are? You should take a good look at yourself before you start thinking you have a chance with Ms. Preston!" I'm beaten until my eyes are red and swollen, and the last thing I see before I lose consciousness is Yvonne holding Oliver's hand on television as they announce their engagement. My heart turns to stone, and after six agonizing years that feel like an eternity, I'm finally released from prison. However, as I quietly board the train with my luggage, Yvonne's assistant, Juliette Parker, appears in front of me. "Ms. Preston wishes to see you, Mr. Clark," she says respectfully.

At 3:00 am, I'm slapped awake. "Liam had a panic disorder and knocked on your door for two whole hours! How dare you pretend to be asleep!" Mom and Dad stand beside my bed, their faces twisted with anger. My younger brother, Liam Jackson, leans against my childhood sweetheart and girlfriend, Ava Schofield, and sobs, trembling. "Logan, you're too selfish," she says reproachfully. "You know Liam can't live without you." I'm the only one who can calm Liam when his panic disorder strikes. Because of him, I've been forced to give up my spot at one of the top high schools and attend the same ordinary one he got into. Because of him, even after earning a perfect SAT score, I can only enroll in a community college in the same city as him. Tonight, just before bed, I receive a job offer from one of the top 100 companies in Perkson. "You're not taking that job in Perkson," Dad says firmly. "The restaurant downstairs needs a waiter. You'll apply tomorrow. Liam can't be without you." Mom settles Liam into my bed. "From now on, don't lock your door when you sleep. And remember to check in with Liam before bed." Ava gently pulls the covers over him, carefully tucking them around his shoulders. I look at the warm, peaceful scene before me and lower my eyes. Then, I open the email on my phone. I click "Accept" on the offer from a prestigious interior design firm in Pronce. I'll start in five days. This time, I'm going to live my own life.

The third time Queenie Stone meets Evan Sutherland's parents, she receives another message from her childhood friend, Joel Lodge. "I'm sorry, Mr. and Mrs. Sutherland. Something came up. I have to go," she says. Evan reaches out and catches her wrist, frowning. "You have to leave right now? My parents have been preparing for this all day. At least stay and finish dinner." Queenie sets her phone down in front of him. In her chat with Joel are four simple words—"The fog's rolling in". "This is my code with Joel," she explains. "He has depression. Whenever he starts spiraling, he sends me this. We agreed that no matter what I'm doing, I'll drop everything and go to him when I see those words. No exceptions." She sounds so serious, as if Joel will drop dead if she doesn't leave that very second. "Can't you wait until after dinner?" Evan asks. "At most, you'll just need to stay for two more hours." "Evan, Joel doesn't send that code lightly. If he has, it means he's at his limit. If I'm late and something happens to him, I'll never forgive myself. I'm sorry." Queenie turns to Evan's parents. "Mr. and Mrs. Sutherland, I need to head out. I'll come by another day to apologize properly." She leaves without another look back. The front door slams shut, making Evan's parents jump. "Did something happen?" his mother asks. "Queenie left in such a hurry." Evan stares at the untouched dishes on the table and forces a stiff smile. Over the last five years, Joel has sent Queenie that code over 700 times. She could be on a movie date with Evan, yet the moment Joel's message comes in, she'll walk out halfway through the film. On New Year's Eve, before the fireworks even go off, she'll ditch Evan to go to Joel. Even when Evan has a 104-degree fever and is lying in bed needing someone to care for him, she'll still rush over to Joel in the middle of the night.

My CEO wife insists on taking a young, fresh intern under her wing. She wants to train him personally. She says to me, "Don't overthink this. I just value his potential." She's always been stern and stoic, but she starts dressing in pink and pulling her hair back in high ponytails. On our third wedding anniversary, she and the intern even willfully disappear for 48 hours. When others are searching for her like mad, she shares photos of her riding a carousel and holding cotton candy. She captions them, "I found the purest of joys in the most joyful of places—all because of you!" Our company loses a huge project because of this, and I lose my wife. I slip a divorce agreement between the pages of the intern's application to become a permanent staff member. My wife signs it without even looking and says, "Knowing what Elliot can do, he's more than capable of carrying out the role of a vice president." I calmly hand her my resignation. "You're right. That's why I'll make way for him."

Lucifer told me my time wasn't up yet and that I shouldn't have died here. The problem was, I'd already died three times. And every single time, it happened after I got married. My first wife was a powerful leather factory owner from out west. But she had a crippling gambling addiction. After blowing through all her assets and my entire life savings, she let the debt collectors cut off three of my fingers to cover her debts. I ended up bleeding to death. My second wife was a respectable, glasses-wearing university professor. She even beat me with class, leaving no bruises and never hitting me in the face. I died from ruptured internal organs. My third wife was a quiet, blue-collar welder. I thought things would finally be good between us after we married. However, she just stood by while her mother, who despised me for being poor, humiliated and controlled my life. When my liver condition flared up, they blocked me from getting medical help, and I died of acute liver failure. I begged Lucifer in tears to give me a few different options. But Lucifer just said firmly, "Your destined wife is one of these three women. It's up to you to make it work. Pick one. Now." I was at a loss for words.

Nathaniel Cooper spent ten whole years slowly working his way into Audrey Sinclair's life. At last, he went from being a secret admirer no one knew about to the man she openly acknowledged as her fiancé. But just two weeks before their wedding, he decided to call it off. "I'd like to transfer to the research institute's Northwestern Branch. Please add my name to the list." Nathaniel placed the signed application form on the director's desk and spoke in a calm voice. The director, who had been looking at his computer, looked up in shock. "Nathaniel, aren't you and Audrey getting married next month? We all know you joined the institute to follow her. You're so close to finally getting what you want. Why would you choose to leave for the Northwest at such a critical time?" Nathaniel swallowed the bitterness rising in his chest and cut her off. "Just approve the transfer, please."

Melissa Mills, my wife, had allowed her lover to stay in our home for an entire week. Normally, I would've asked her to pay me for putting up with it. This time, I didn't. She must've thought I was finally learning how to be a good husband because she tossed me a check without me requesting one for the first time since… well, ever. "Nathan's moving out later. Pack his things for him. Do it, and the check is yours." That was how things had always worked between us. Every dollar Melissa gave me came at a cost. I would receive 50,000 when she wanted to parade me around as "Melissa Mills' husband." I'd be paid 100,000 to stand by and watch her flirt with Nathan Reid right in front of me. Finally, I was given 300,000 when she wanted the master bedroom for some alone time with Nathan. I'd swallowed my pride and put up with all of it because I needed her money for my mother's medical bills. However, that changed a week ago. My mother couldn't bear watching me humiliate myself for her, so she took her own life. Now, all I had left of her was nearly three pounds of ashes in an urn. There were no medical bills left to pay. So, I no longer had a reason to keep selling what remained of my dignity. Melissa knew none of this. Therefore, I wasn't really listening when she went on about Nathan moving out and told me to pack his things. Instead, I was sitting at a poker table with a few trust-fund guys, tossing another chip into the pot without even looking up. "I'm busy. If you need something, ask Nathan."

The seventh time Claire Fisher bailed on our marriage license appointment, I finally cut her out of my life—for good. From then on, if she was at a party, I wasn't. When she was scheduled to perform at our college's anniversary celebration, I made sure to leave early. The moment my company announced a collaboration with hers, I resigned without a second thought. Even on Christmas Eve, when she showed up at my parents' house with gifts, I slipped out with a half-hearted excuse about "visiting a friend." I blocked her number. Deleted her from my contacts. Burned every bridge and salted the earth behind me. No calls. No texts. No social media. I didn't reach out. She couldn't reach me. Simple as that. For the better part of my life, I was hopelessly in love with her—waiting on her, caring for her, putting her first in every way that mattered. I gave her all of me without ever holding back. But after the seventh time she left me sitting alone at the City Hall, something inside me broke. I was done. If that meant spending the rest of my life alone, so be it. Better that than sitting in an empty apartment, listening to the silence, holding on to hope for someone who never planned to show up.

To save my wife, my lungs were pierced by a knife, leaving lasting consequences. When I fell ill and struggled to breathe, she said I was dramatic and went on a business trip with her childhood friend. When she returned, I found a man's underwear in her suitcase that did not belong to me. I calmly made the call: "Director, I've made up my mind. I'm going to assist in Avrika." Later, at the airport, she bent down, publicly lowering her head and begging for my forgiveness.