Mga Maiikling Kwento tungkol sa Melodramatic at mga Nobela ng Male POV na may Marriage

The first thing I do after regaining my memories and finding my family is share the good news with my wife, Christine Blackwell. However, I discover that the woman who has shared my bed for three years is already someone else's wife. The marriage certificate she registered with me three years ago is a forgery. The real marriage certificate is the one she secretly registered with Edison Whitman, the factory director's son. She tells me that Edison comes from a far better background. As a distant relative of the Carrington family in Regalton, he can provide opportunities that I never could. She tells me to stop making a scene. What she doesn't know is that the Carrington family in Regalton which she speaks of… is actually my family.

There was a lottery at my wedding with Lumi White, and her best friend Sirius Lynch won our new house. I quickly thought I should refuse, but Lumi agreed to it right away. "Winner's keepers." I fought against my rage, thinking this could wait until the wedding was over. However, as the lottery continued, my best friend Carl Singer won my wedding ring, my brother-in-law won my grandfather's pendant, and Lumi's other best friend won my necktie. They swarmed me, catching me off guard, grabbing and pulling whatever they had won viciously. Skrrrt! My shirt was shredded as I was left standing there while everyone laughed out loud. Even as I crossed my arms to protect my modesty, I turned toward Lumi with a look of distress. However, she was busy swiping through Sirius' photo album on his phone, arguing who had taken the better photos. "See? Just look at Hal's face when I said I was giving you the new house." "No way! Mine's better—the way he crossed his arms looks just like a gorilla! It's so memeworthy!" Hundreds of photos flooded the chat group, all of them laughing at them. I had no idea what was so amusing about my tears and despair, so I turned and looked Lumi in the eye. "This wedding is over."

In the third year of Alex Shaw and Eva Laurent's marriage, her sister-in-law dies in an accident. After her younger brother, Hugh Laurent, returns to the country with his son, Eva decides to name the child her heir. Alex assumes Eva did it out of concern for Hugh, so he goes to her office to discuss the arrangements. Unexpectedly, he overhears her arguing with her best friend, Celia Inman. Celia says, "Eva, you're already married! It's one thing to bring Hugh and his son home without considering Alex's feelings, but now you want to make that child your heir? Have you ever thought about Alex at all? "Hugh is an adopted son of the Laurent family. He's not even your biological younger brother. You really don't have to go this far for him." Eva glances at the little boy sleeping peacefully in her arms. In a gentle voice, she says, "This is Hugh's only son. I have to give him the best so Hugh can feel at ease. Besides, this is my son, too." Hearing those words, Alex freezes in the doorway. It feels as though someone has struck him hard over the head, leaving him with an excruciating headache. The boy everyone thinks is Eva's nephew is actually her son!

After remarrying Odette Fairbanks, Ezra Whitlock turns into the perfect husband, one who no longer checks up on her or gets jealous. He no longer wakes up early to make her a balanced breakfast, and he no longer shows up at the hospital right on time with a home-cooked lunch for her. Even when he finds a box of ultra-thin condoms on her passenger seat, he quietly puts it away for her and pretends he hasn't seen it. Odette, however, begins to panic and starts volunteering the very explanations she's always been too proud to give.

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."

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.

My wife had been raised under an elite education system that taught her to avoid anything she considered a pointless drain on her time and energy. When I was hospitalized for a week with stomach pain, she never came. She simply arranged for a caregiver. Even sex was timed down to the second. Every time, once she counted to three hundred, she would get out of bed without another word. For three years, I lived like a shadow, following her rules and terrified of stepping out of line. I kept telling myself that this was simply how she was. Until one day, I was waiting for her at an intersection to pick me up when a group of thugs dragged me into an alley and beat me. A passerby called the police. An entire hour later, Sienna Monroe arrived at the police station. The first thing she did was glance at her watch. "Settle it. A lawsuit would only drain energy I don't need to spend." stood frozen beneath everyone's scrutiny, their gazes pricking at me like needles. Then her male assistant got out of the passenger seat, carrying a steaming container of chicken noodle soup. "It's my fault. I got a craving for the chicken noodle soup from the south side, so Ms. Monroe went out of her way to pick some up for me. Otherwise, she would've gotten here sooner to pick you up, Vincent." Sienna turned to him and gently reassured him. "It's not your fault. He should've been more careful." I suddenly let out a laugh. Tears ran into the corner of my mouth, salty and bitter. This woman who measured every minute of her life with precision was willing to drive across half the city for someone else. Her time was precious. So precious that she could not spare any more of it for me.

"Mr. Rogers, are you sure you want to do this? Noelle is only five—" I cut the lawyer off and signed my name on the authorization form. "I am." Outside the window, rain poured down in sheets. I looked up at the office building across the street. Behind the floor-to-ceiling windows on the thirty-seventh floor, Rachel Lloyd, the president of Lloyd Group, was in a meeting. She wore a perfectly tailored white suit, her expression icy and composed. Every gesture carried the commanding presence of the queen of the business world. No one knew that this woman was my wife, at least in the eyes of the law. Even fewer people knew that we had a five-year-old daughter. It had been three years. For all three of those years, I had worked as an ordinary driver for her company, driving her to and from work every day. "Mr. Rogers, turn left. Mr. Rogers, stop here." That was all I ever heard from her. She never gave me so much as a second glance when other people were around, as if we truly were nothing more than an employer and her driver. Noelle had learned to call me ‘Dad’ when she was two, but she had never dared call Rachel ‘Mom’. Rachel had made one thing very clear. "Don't let me hear you calling me that in public." Noelle had been a good girl. She never called her Mom again. However, I knew what happened every night. She would curl up in bed, clutching the one stuffed doll Rachel had ever bought for her, and whisper into the darkness, "Goodnight, Mommy. You looked so pretty today. Will you come see me tomorrow?" Rachel had bought that doll three years ago at a convenience store on a whim. It had cost her only $29.90. To Noelle, however, it was priceless. She had held on to it like a treasure for three long years.

At the height of my career, I became the youngest law professor in the field and married my childhood sweetheart, Daisy Reid. We were known as the "golden couple of the legal world," and in the eyes of many, we were the perfect loving couple. In the tenth year of our marriage, my mother took my son, Caleb Davis, out, and they were involved in a car accident. The driver had been speeding while intoxicated. My mother only had enough time to shield Caleb in her arms before she died on the spot. To my surprise, my wife, Daisy, appeared and sat next to the murderer, James Benton, as his defense attorney in the courtroom. "Our client was just driving normally when the deceased suddenly rushed out in an attempt to stage an accident, which ultimately led to the accident. The deceased party should bear the main responsibility for the accident." Upon hearing that, I stared at her in disbelief. Soon after, anger surged within me. My eyes bloodshot, I growled, "My mom would never stage an accident! I have a witness!" However, the ten-year-old Caleb, who was to testify as a witness, grabbed James' arm and said, "I testify that Grandma was trying to fake an accident by purposely crashing into Mr. Benton's car. Dad even tried to make me lie. I would never hurt Mr. Benton." The moment those words left his mouth, my heart sank completely.

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.

Josie Collins and I were supposed to get married during the upcoming long holidays, but she suddenly wanted to postpone our wedding for another month, and she asked that I wait a little longer. As I had nothing else to do during the holidays, I took up a job as a wedding driver. What I did not expect was that the bride I was picking up was Josie. She wore the wedding dress my mother made for her as her ex-boyfriend, William Locke, carried her in his arms. Everyone started yelling, "Kiss her!" Josie smiled and kissed him on the cheek. When she saw me sitting in the car, she panicked. "What are you doing here?" However, she frowned almost immediately and started blaming me. "William's grandmother is suffering from dementia and thinks that we're still together. She has always wanted us to get married, so I'm helping her to make her wish come true. "Why would you come after us all this way? Can you stop being such a schemer and wipe those dirty thoughts from your mind?!" William helped her lift the heavy skirt. "Don't be mad, Sam. I'm just the groom for one day. Josie will still be yours in the end." I stared at her wedding dress. Every thread on it was sewn by my mother before she died, and she had always wanted to see Josie put it on to marry me. However, Josie made me wait, and I did. I waited until my mother breathed her last, and still, she did not witness my wedding. Now, Josie was using the wedding dress my mother made to fulfil someone else's wish. This time, I no longer wanted to wait for her.

On the night of my birthday, I got a photo from Tyler Pattison, the college student my wife, Helen Watkins, had been keeping. In the photo, my wife lay topless in his arms, her face still flushed. Tyler: [Helen loves me. Why do you insist on holding on and refusing to let go?] I stared at the photo, expressionless, and forwarded it to my wife. [Is this what you want?] [Fine. I'll let you two have each other.] She'd forgotten that our marriage was something she had wanted with all her heart, something she had begged and pleaded for. Since she loved her freedom so much, I would give it back to her.

After five years of building a business with my wife, Jane Fletcher, our company finally goes public. Right after I close a big business deal, I head home in high spirits, ready to take her to meet my family. She transfers me 100 dollars with a hint of annoyance and says, "Buy yourself a decent shirt to wear for the financial conference on the day after tomorrow." The next day, Ansel Meyer—the underprivileged student she sponsors—shows up in a custom suit worth two million dollars. He says apologetically, "Mr. Crane, please do not be mad at Ms. Fletcher. She just wants to give me the best. Maybe she thinks you are used to these things, so she only gave you 100 dollars." I call Jane, but she replies impatiently, "It is just a suit. Why are you being so petty?" All of a sudden, I no longer want to continue this marriage. So, I make two calls decisively. "Hey, Mitch. I am not going to go through with that 50-million deal." "Mom, hold on to the 300-million wedding gift you prepared for your daughter-in-law."

On our seventh wedding anniversary, my wife, Faith Richmond, slapped me in front of everyone. "It's Bridger's birthday. Who do you think you are, showing up here and ruining the mood?" The mockery in her eyes told me she had deliberately invited me here just to humiliate me. Inside the lively karaoke room, I was treated like a servant, ordered around to queue up songs and open bottles while I watched my own wife make out passionately with Bridger right in front of me. After everyone left, a drunk Faith waited for me downstairs. "Who gave you permission to disappear for seven days? This is your punishment. If you ever do it again, get the hell out of the Richmond family! Be careful. After serving me for seven years, you might not get a single penny for it!" The farewell I'd been about to say caught in my throat. I clenched the critical-condition notice in my hand. After a moment's thought, I decided not to take it out after all.

Nathaniel Scott has been married to Jessica Sullivan for three years, but they still have no children. Worried that Jessica might be feeling too much pressure, Nathaniel goes to the hospital to get himself checked first. The doctor studies the test results for a long moment before saying in surprise, "Mr. Scott, you've had a vasectomy!" Nathaniel immediately denies it. "How could I possibly have had a vasectomy? My wife and I both love children. We've been trying for a baby ever since we got married. That's absolutely impossible!" The doctor checks his medical records on the computer and tells him, "You had a vasectomy three months ago." A vasectomy? Nathaniel immediately shakes his head. "No! I had my appendix removed three months ago!" "The surgical records clearly state that it was a vasectomy. Your wife even signed the consent form." Unwilling to accept this, Nathaniel begs the doctor to retrieve the consent form from that day. Patient: Nathaniel Scott Procedure: Vasectomy The family member's signature is in Jessica's elegant, graceful hand. It is unmistakably hers. Nathaniel is still reeling from the shock when the doctor suddenly notices something else on the computer. "Your wife's name is Jessica Sullivan, correct?" "Yes." "It seems she just came in for a prenatal checkup. Another family member accompanied her. His name is York Lawrence. Do you know him?" He does. A year ago, when Jessica was in a car accident, York was the one who saved her.

My fiancée, Summer Walker, and I were supposed to spend our honeymoon on a tropical island. Instead, she brought my two best friends along. I didn't think much of it, so I joined them for a game of Truth or Dare. After several rounds and several drinks, I was starting to feel tipsy. Adam Lewis and Joseph Thompson laughed and teased me for being such a lightweight. Then the bottle landed on my fiancée. Summer chose Truth. One of my friends asked, "What's your biggest secret?" She lowered her head, a blush slowly spreading across her face as her hand instinctively moved to cover her belly. I was about to smooth things over when both men rushed to offer to drink for her. Neither was willing to back down. Finally, Summer spoke. "I'm pregnant." Excitement surged through me, and I leaned in to kiss her. Then I noticed something was wrong. One man had clenched his knee so tightly that his knuckles had turned white. The other's fingers were trembling. They spoke at the exact same time. "Whose is it?" I froze. Summer lifted her head, her gaze darting between them. "I don't know." One of them ordered the driver to pull over. The moment the motorhome stopped, both men spilled outside and started fighting beside the guardrail along the coastal highway. Summer curled up in her seat and clung to my hand, crying as she apologized over and over. I pulled my hand free and stepped outside. The sea wind struck my face, stinging my eyes. In the distance, the two men were still wrestling with each other. We hadn't even reached the island yet, but as far as I was concerned, this trip was already over.

After three years away on business, I finally came home. My five-year-old daughter hid behind my wife, peeking out timidly as she asked, “Mommy, who’s that man?” I stood in the doorway, still holding the princess dress and puzzle I had bought for her. My wife, Heather Whitfield, had just come out of the kitchen. She had not even had time to take off her apron. The moment she saw me, she instinctively pulled our daughter, Nicole Lowe, behind her. “Desmond, why didn’t you tell me you were coming home?” My throat tightened. “The project wrapped up early. I can stay home from now on.” Nicole peeked out from behind her mother, revealing half of her little face. “Mommy, I don’t want him. I want Daddy.”

On the first day of summer break, my daughter, Mia Leighton, is scheduled to perform a solo at the closing ceremony of her youth arts camp. It's her final audition for a televised performance, but there's one requirement— both parents have to be present to sign off on her participation. Mia had practiced every single day for this opportunity, pushing her voice until her throat was nearly raw. My wife, Thea Sawyer, had promised her too. "I will definitely be there. I won't let anything get in the way of your dream." But on the day of the performance, Mia sings the entire song while staring at an empty seat in the front row. When the TV station's staff asks about the missing signature, I hold my daughter's hand and plead with them repeatedly to make an exception. But they refuse. They tell me that these are the rules, and they're not allowed to make an exception unless I can present them with divorce papers. After the performance, we run into Thea as she comes out of a class next door. Walking beside her is the son of Clark Judson, her first love. The boy, Ian Judson, is clutching a guitar. It was only an ordinary rehearsal, yet Thea stayed by his side the entire time. Thea averts her eyes awkwardly, stammering as she explains, "Darling, Ian is shy and doesn't dare to play unless someone stays with him. Mia will have other opportunities. Besides, she has you there to support her." Instead of running into Thea's arms, Mia just clutches her songbook tightly. Then, she looks up at me and asks, "Daddy, did Mommy not come because I'm too much trouble?" I scoop my daughter into my arms. The staff member's words about divorce suddenly echo in my head. If Thea wants to play mother to someone else, I won't stop her anymore.

When I finally locate my wife, Annabelle Suther, she happens to be nuzzling against a man. There are freshly used condoms littering around them as well. That's when I recall the social media post made by Annabelle's best friend. "Anna is happy once again!" In the photo, Annabelle can be seen kissing a man with her arms around him as they stand in the center of a heart formed by roses. I've left a comment there. "Make sure to use protection." Annabelle, who has always gone against every word I say, actually takes my advice very seriously this time.

Ever since my wife, Delia Sutcliffe, and Jensen Pike become an on-screen couple, accidents keep finding me. The first time, funeral wreaths line our front door, and someone swaps our Home Sweet Home sign for a funeral notice. The second time, someone douses me with a bucket of pig's blood outside my office building. The third time, a car hits me while I'm walking down the street, and I spend three months stuck in bed. Every time I fight with Delia about it, she brushes it off. "Those people just get a little carried away. If you'd listened to me and stayed home, none of this would've happened." Then, the tenth time comes. A fire breaks out in our house for no apparent reason, I end up with burns all over my body, and the doctors fight for seven days in the ICU to save my life. The day I wake up in the hospital, Delia hands me a set of divorce papers. "Jensen and I still have to work together for a while, and we need to get married to keep the buzz going. Let's divorce first, and we'll remarry once it's over. "You know it's just for publicity." This time, I don't explode. I calmly sign my name.