Nouvelles Plot Twists & Romans Male POV Marriage

I had been married to Natasha Bates for ten years, and not once did she ever join me for our family's Independence Day cookout. This year, on the night before the celebration, I finally gathered the courage to ask if she wanted to come. She scoffed and said, "What are you, stuck in the past? Who even celebrates the Fourth with a family dinner anymore?" Yet that very evening, I saw a social media post of Natasha with her male best friend, Stanley Rogers. They were quite intimate in the picture, and the caption read: [True happiness is celebrating Independence Day with your bestie!] I commented back: [Hope you two lovebirds make it official soon.] Stanley did not hold back. He messaged me a bunch of intimate photos of the two of them. Then, he added, [You're just a leech living off his wife. What right do you have to question anything about Nattie?] Everyone always thought I was a gold-digger living off Natasha's success. However, they all forgot that I was the sole major shareholder of the company. This time, I’m done staying silent.

When I learned that Holly Jones had gone to deliver cold medicine to her young assistant, even though she knew I was trapped in the elevator and suffered from claustrophobia, I asked for a divorce. Holly signed without hesitation. Smiling at her best friend, she said, "Jim is just throwing a little tantrum. His parents are gone, so there's no way he'd really divorce me. Besides, there's a thirty-day cooling-off period before it's finalized. If he regrets it, I'll graciously forgive him and take him back." The very next day, she posted a couples' photoshoot with her assistant, captioned: [Capturing your every sexy moment.] I counted the days. Calmly, I packed my belongings and made a phone call. "Uncle, buy me a ticket to Hudson City."

The underprivileged student I've been sponsoring suddenly shows up at my birthday party, swaggering in and waving around a pregnancy report. "Look—Pheebs is pregnant with my baby! You'd better be smart and divorce her already!" I point at the report, stunned and confused. "Are you sure it's Phoebe who's pregnant with your child?" Victor Thompson, my beneficiary, smirks proudly as he fiddles with the pregnancy report. "Duh! We conceived the baby last month on our cruise trip!" The entire room falls into a stunned silence. My ex-wife, Phoebe Jackman, has been dead for three years.

When I woke up that morning and happened to glance at the mirror, a scream tore from my throat before I could stop it. Because on the face I had always taken such pride in, there was now a jagged, horrifying scar. As terror gripped me, a cool, detached female voice cut through the air beside me. "What are you shrieking about so early in the morning? Scared by your own ugly face?" I looked up in shock and realized the voice belonged to my girlfriend, Alicia. Only—she wasn't the same girl from yesterday. Gone was the youthful innocence I remembered. In its place, every movement, every glance radiated the allure of a mature woman. The words slipped out before I could hold them back. "Babe… you're gorgeous…" But Alicia's brows knit together, her gaze colder than ice. "Kurt, drop the act!" Act? I was at a loss. Why would she accuse me of pretending? "Don't call me the way you used to five years ago. It's disgusting." Five years ago? But… I'm still twenty-three… am I not?

Our third wedding anniversary was coming up, but my wife, a programmer at a major tech company, suddenly claimed she had to work overtime to meet deadlines. She said she couldn't go on the trip we'd planned. That very afternoon, however, her intern posted a video on social media. My wife—the same woman who normally wouldn't even open a door for fear of chipping her manicure—was holding a screwdriver, repairing an old flip phone. The caption read: [Having a programmer wife is the best. Even when Grandma's phone breaks, we don't need to pay for repairs.] I chuckled, liked the post, and commented: [Right up her alley.] Within minutes, the company group chat exploded. There were over ninety-nine unread messages speculating on when I'd finally snap. Not long after, my wife called. Her voice was ice-cold. "What was that comment supposed to mean? How is Shawn supposed to face anyone at work now? "His grandma's phone broke, so I fixed it. What's the problem? Your parents have always spoiled you. You can't possibly understand real hardship. "Delete the comment. I'll make it up to you over the New Year; we can take that trip then." The New Year? I'd already waited through two other major public holidays. I'd even taken special leave for this trip, and she still bailed. Now she was dangling empty promises again? I hung up on her. My leave ended around the same time as our divorce cooling-off period.

Anya Sawyer and I have been married for eight years. In that time, she brought 99 men back home. One day, I found myself looking at the 100th young man she had brought home ever since we got married. He shot me a taunting look before turning to Anya. "Ms. Sawyer, is this your useless husband?" Anya leaned into her seat and replied with a lazy yes. The young man patted my cheek with a grin. "Tonight, I'll show you what a proper man is capable of." … That evening, I was forced to sit in the living room and listen to their moans all night long. The next morning, Anya ordered me to prepare breakfast for her as usual. I refused. She seemed to have forgotten our marriage was by contract. That day just so happened to be the third-to-last day of our contract.

I'm a nationally certified animal trainer running the Lion King, Caesar's final assessment. I've barely stepped into the enclosure corridor when the steel guillotine door slams down behind me. My wife's laughter crackles over the loudspeaker. "Everyone, we're doing the ultimate challenge today! We're locking the so-called number-one animal trainer in the Lion King's enclosure and taking bets on whether he wets himself in ten minutes!" Caesar crouches low and rumbles a warning. I reach for my tranquilizer gun but stop cold. The liquid isn't the right color. In a phony sing-song voice, the veterinarian, Hugh Archer, says, "Lucian, I forgot to mention, I swapped your tranquilizer darts for pepper spray so you won't hurt Caesar by mistake. "You two are so close. Just win him over with love!" I look at Caesar, his eyes bloodshot from the stimulant, and it clicks. Hugh still resents that I stopped him from touching a tiger with his bare hands a few days ago. I tune out the trash blaring over the loudspeaker, pull a remote from my pocket, and hit the button. It's the master switch for the electric fence gates around every predator enclosure in the zoo. If I don't make it out, no one does.

My mother and I pushed ourselves, slaving away to pay for my girlfriend’s debt. The work was too hard on her, and she was soon diagnosed with lung cancer. By the time I arrived at the hospital with money for her treatment, my mother had taken her own life and left behind a note. “I can’t go on, Gab. The money is best put toward settling the debts. Noelle is a good kid. She loves you. She’s just lost her way. That’s all. You two should settle down once the debts are cleared.” I held my mother’s ashes and gave Noelle the thirty thousand dollars she had left behind. Back in the office, I overheard Noelle talking to several creditors. “Ms. Strom, Mr. Lamb has passed your test. What’s next on the agenda for him?” Noelle’s childhood friend, Charles, jumped into the conversation. “Gabriel has proven that he’s willing to be there for you through thick and thin, but will he stick around in wealth? Noelle pursed her lips. “I need to know if he genuinely loves me. If he isn’t blinded by greed when learning about who I am, I’ll marry him.” I stared at my mother’s ashes, tears rolling down my face. “Noelle, my mother was wrong about you, and so was I. I don’t want to marry you anymore.” I thought to myself.

On the day of the wedding, my fiancee, Bianca Newton, approached me with a bright smile, handing me a glass of wine. I drank it down in one gulp. Suddenly, her male best friend, Xander Lynch, raised his phone and burst out laughing. "See! I told you this idiot wouldn't even notice that it was my piss! Pay up, everyone! Don't forget to follow my account! Pay up!" I started puking uncontrollably, but Bianca merely looked at me with disgust. I demanded that Xander apologize, yet Bianca placed herself in front of him and stopped me. "It was just a joke! Why are you taking it so seriously?" At the same time, Xander said smugly, "Come on, say hello to the views in my livestream! Tell them how it feels to drink piss!" I smashed a wine bottle right on his head. Bianca demanded that I kneel and apologize to him. Then, she hurriedly escorted Xander to the hospital, still in her wedding gown. Looking at the wedding venue in utter chaos, I calmly took my phone out and dialed a number. "Are you interested in marrying me?"

I had been on a business trip overseas for less than six months when I suddenly received a call from the hospital. "Mr. Jones, your wife is having a difficult labor. Should we proceed with a C-section or try to continue with a natural delivery?" The words hit me like a bolt of lightning. I stood there, frozen. When I left, my wife had not shown any sign of pregnancy. How could she be giving birth less than six months later? I quickly dialed her number. The moment the call connected, I heard her cries of pain. "Honey, what's wrong?" From the other end of the line, I could hear a nurse urging her to push harder. However, my wife forced her voice to sound calm. "Sweetheart, I just slipped and fell a moment ago. It's nothing serious. You should keep focusing on your business trip. Don't worry about me." As I listened, the faint sound of a baby crying filtered through the phone. My grip tightened so hard around the phone that it nearly cracked. "Is that so? Then, get some rest," I said calmly. After hanging up, I immediately called my father, the richest man in the country. "Dad, Rebecca's cheating on me. She's in the delivery room right now, having another man's child. Stop all investments in the Harris family immediately. I want her thrown out with nothing to her name."

My wife, Jana Webster, uses her work at the company as an excuse to skip out on Leah Haynes, our daughter's field day. She even tells us not to participate in the activity. Having noticed how disappointed Leah looks, I decide to take her to the field day myself. As soon as we walk into the school, I spot Jana sitting on the couch located on the stage with her first love, Barton Ritter, as well as his son, Trenton Ritter. They look so close, as though they were an actual family of three. With a microphone in her hand, Jana goes on and on about how she's capable of keeping her family happy while maintaining a successful career. As she speaks, she smiles at Barton from time to time. The audience beneath the stage applauds heartily, giving Jana an ego boost. Even Trenton wears a haughty look. Soon, it's time for the Q&A session. I quickly snatch the microphone over. "Ms. Webster, since when do you have a son? Does your husband know about it?"

On the fourth day after our son died, I decided to end my military marriage. Before that, I spent three days taking care of what remained of him. On the first day, I tricked my wife into signing the cremation papers. On the second day, I went to my son's school and collected the textbooks he never had the chance to use. On the third day, I prepared a table full of his favorite dishes and begged my wife to come home so we could celebrate his birthday one last time. She agreed. Then she turned around, claimed she had a mission, and spent the entire night setting off fireworks with her childhood sweetheart. That night, I sat beside my son's memorial photo and ate alone. The next day, she came home looking guilty and handed me a brand new backpack. She said it was a gift for our son to use at school. She did not know that our child would never live to see his first day of school.

I was once Fiona's consigliere. I put the Falcone Family in her hands，helping her become the untouchable Don. And when a rival family put out a hit, I took the car bomb meant for her. It cost me my eyes. She knelt by my hospital bed and swore a blood oath. She would be my eyes. I would be her only husband. Later, after an operation by a top surgeon, my eyes recovered. I couldn't wait to rush home to surprise her. But when I pushed open the door, I saw her tangled together with Leo, her bodyguard, on the desk I had custom-made for her. Fiona was pressed against Leo in revealing clothing, her face flushed. Crumpled white tissues littered the floor. Between ragged breaths, she called Leo’s name repeatedly. "Fiona, why are you still keeping that useless blind fuck around? Let me take care of him for you." "Leo, shut up. I need more time. Now, get inside me. That's all that matters." The Chicago winter rain was bone-chilling that night. I completely gave up. After walking out of the house in just my shirt, I pulled out my phone and booked a one-way ticket to Sicily. I will cut ties completely with this family and with her.

On New Year's Eve, the smell of a roast in the oven drifted through the house. My grandmother walked over to me, with an old photograph in her hand, the edges worn soft with age. "Is Zack almost home?" My throat tightened. It had been three years. She could never remember that my younger brother was long gone. I was the one who picked up his ashes. At that moment, my phone rang. The moment I saw the name on the screen, the blood in my veins seemed to freeze. I stepped out onto the balcony before answering, keeping my voice low. "What is it?" The voice on the other end of the line trembled. "It's been three years. Are you still angry? I've been waiting for you to come home. Our son has, too. We're downstairs." Downstairs? I walked over and looked down to see a tall figure and a small one standing together. Through my phone, my son's voice came with a catch in his throat, saying, "Daddy…" My thoughts snapped back into place. I said flatly, "We've been divorced for a long time. He said he didn't want to stay with me." Then, I hung up without another word.

I transmigrate into a melodramatic angst novel. My CEO wife, Victoria Gibson, hangs me up and beats me brutally to force me to agree to a divorce. But when I see the two-billion-dollar breakup fee, my eyes light up again and again. With both my hands injured, I quickly grab a pen with my foot and sign the divorce agreement. I say with a grin, "Thanks for the money. I wish you two a long and happy marriage. May you have many children."

The intern whom my CEO wife, Gemma Hawkins, just promotes claims to be a corporate machine. Not only does Leon Hart stay energetic without sleep, but he also has an exceptional mind that can handle multiple roles flawlessly. He even manages to turn a random investment in a declining industry into millions in profit for the company. But I know the truth. His prodigal work ability comes from a linked exchange system that shifts all fatigue, damage, and financial risk onto me. As he gains fame and turns into an up-and-coming elite businessman, I grow thinner, my memory worsens, and I nearly die from exhaustion and anxiety. I go to Gemma and tell her my suspicions, but she lashes out at me, calling me crazy. "If you do not want to work, then resign and give your position to Leo. Don't be petty and slander him behind his back. You are embarrassing me!" To make it up to Leon, she takes back my shares and gives them to him. Then, she demands a divorce and throws me out of the house. After that, she spends 100 million dollars to buy him a house and a car. She even hands over all company investments to him. While all the shareholders wait eagerly, believing they will become millionaires with the company's dividends, I am beaten to death by loan sharks in an abandoned parking lot... When I open my eyes again, I return to the first day Leon makes an investment for the company. This time, I immediately take out a massive loan and invest in a dying industry!

On the first day of New Year's, my good buddy, Vincent Wales, sent me a video. “Leon, take a look. Does this woman look like your wife? It’s all over.” In the video, a man and a woman were making out passionately. As the car rocked violently, the woman’s face came into view. It was unmistakably my wife. My blood rushed straight to my head. My hands shook as I dialed her number. “Hello, honey… What’s the matter?” Her breathing was uneven, like she had just been doing something intense. I was about to speak when she suddenly let out a few loud cries. “A-Ah… It’s nothing. I’ll hang up now. I’m just playing cards with friends." With that, all I heard was the dial tone. Playing cards? She had clearly told me she was working overtime!

Grandma lay bedridden, her dementia taking hold as she repeated Scarlett Hayes's name over and over. Tears streamed down my face as I dialed my wife's number. When she picked up, Scarlett sounded irritated. She said she was working late tonight and would call me back when she was free. I could clearly hear the sound of a man's laughter in the background. The moment I hung up, Grandma gasped sharply. She called out my wife's name. It was her last breath. While I sat drowning in grief, Scarlett's male best friend Chase Morrison posted a video update, geotagged at a couples' hotel. In the video, their fingers were laced together. The woman's arm bore a distinctive black mole I recognized instantly. The caption read: "When two hearts become one, why care what anyone else thinks?" In that moment, my heart turned to ash. I gritted my teeth and left a comment. "Let's file for divorce tomorrow. Then you two can be together openly and legally. You'll even save on the hotel fees. Win-win, right?"

Everyone knew I was the man the richest woman in Tova City adored most. She spoiled me constantly, giving me everything I wanted and following my every lead. One day, after waking up from a nap, I found myself tied up at an auction house. On the stage sat my wife, surrounded by her group of friends. One of them laughed and asked, "Sora, how did you find time to bring Damien out today? Everyone says you're so obsessed with your husband Cleo now that you don't have time for Damien anymore." Sora looked at the man next to her before expressing wryly, "Cleo hasn't been feeling well lately, so I've been home taking care of him. Damien's been throwing a fit about it, so I figured I'd make time to bring him out today." I squirmed desperately, trying to get Sora's attention so she would help me. She finally noticed me, but all she did was slowly raise her bidding sign. "Number nine won't stop squirming. He looks like a real handful. One million dollars! I'm picking him."

My girlfriend, Madison Carter, claims that men's hearts will rot when they start gaining wealth. Out of love toward her, I give her all of my money. But on my birthday, my severe illness has relapsed due to me not bearing to spend money on medication. So, I can only borrow money from Madison, who's also a CEO. But she begins berating me without asking me the reason why. "You really are an ingrate! I've been sustaining you for so long, and yet you never pledge your loyalty toward me! All you care about is money!" Naturally, Madison refuses to lend me even a single cent. But the next day, she doesn't hesitate to give her first love, Lucas Whitfield, a few million dollars just so he can start a business of his own. I feel my blood turn into ice as I stare at the woman I've loved for ten years. Only now do I realize that she has never loved me before.