Male POV Short Stories & Novels

On my wedding day, my fiancee, Alisson Poole, never shows up. Neither do her bridesmaids. I stand alone at the altar all day, enduring a roomful of pitying and contemptuous stares. After 999 rejected calls, I finally accept that she has fled the wedding. Back in our empty home, I see a post from her first love, Rhett Barker. "The art I want to explore with you goes beyond the soul. It includes the body, too." In the photo, Alisson wears the million-dollar custom wedding dress I bought her. She and her six bridesmaids kneel commando at his feet. Their eyes are dazed, burning with raw desire. They look at him like he's their deity, eager to be his most devoted followers. I stare at the picture for a long time, then leave a quick like and a comment. "May your noble art stay locked together forever." I screenshot the post and send it to the six bridesmaids' boyfriends. A masterpiece like this deserves a proper audience.

It is my third year in prison after taking the blame for the adopted son of the Ingram family, Seth Ingram. Because of my good behavior, I am released early and return home ahead of time. The whole family is celebrating Seth's birthday. When my sister, Sheryl Ingram, sees me in my cheap tracksuit, a hint of disgust appears on her face. My fiancee, Isabella Kennedy, who once promised to wait for me, speaks up and says she'll put me in some storage room for now. "Seth has a weak body. You just got out of prison, Matthew. You need to stay away from him so that the germs you carry won't get to him." I don't argue or make a scene. I do as I'm told without objection. I understand that I've long lost my place in this family. Sheryl's hand pauses as she cuts the cake. "I thought you'd make a fuss like you used to. Looks like prison did you some good. You've become much more sensible." I force a smile. The cramping in my stomach seems to start acting up again. I don't argue back. I've accepted my fate.

For all four years of college, my girlfriend Vanessa Moore never once let anyone know we were together. "Dating someone in your own class is asking for trouble. If we break up, it'll be humiliating." To keep our distance, I never dared say a single word to her in front of other people. But Marcus Hale, the guy she grew up with, got to be glued to her side. On the way to the graduation party, a white sedan swerved out of nowhere and slammed into my car. Glass sliced open my face and my arm. When the dizziness cleared, I saw Marcus in the other car, smiling like he had just pulled something off. Blood kept dripping from the cuts. I was pinned, and I couldn't move an inch. Then Vanessa's car came down the road toward us. I called out for help until my voice went raw. She walked straight past me to Marcus. "Are you okay? Where are you hurt?" Leaning on my girlfriend's arm, Marcus limped over to her car and got in. She didn't come for me first. Ten minutes later Vanessa finally walked back, but she stopped three feet away. "It's the graduation party today. Everyone will be there. We have to keep our distance even more carefully. "I heard someone already called an ambulance, so just hang on. I'm taking him to the hospital first." Then she drove off without looking back. She had never intended to save me. My white shirt was soaked through red, and the pain shooting through my body cleared my head completely. A love that never answers back is a love you should put down.

After my wife, Talia Rosenthal, becomes pregnant with her mentor's son, Lucas Hawthorne's, child, she asks me for a divorce. "We can get married after the baby's born. It's just for show, so don't read too much into it." To make matters worse, our daughter, Joyce Rosenthal, takes her side. "We need to repay those who help us. Besides, that's my mom's child too. Stop making things difficult for Mom, Dad." Instead of causing a scene like everyone expects, I nod quietly, swiftly finalize the divorce, and marry Sonya Silverstein, the woman who once saved my life. In my previous life, because I adamantly refuse to get a divorce, Talia and Joyce abandon me and leave for a distant land. I become a total laughingstock and hit rock bottom. Now that I've been given a second chance at life, I calmly go through with the divorce and vanish from their lives. … Six years later, at an exclusive luxury cruise party, Talia and Joyce push through the crowd on the dance floor, grab me by the wrist, and demand, "Didn't I tell you it was just for show? Where the hell have you been all these years?" I'm caught off guard. The very next second, my mischievous son, Jeremy Jensington, runs straight into my arms. "Daddy, who are you talking to? Mommy's looking for you!"

My younger brother, Lance Knight, is an illegitimate son with a shameful existence. He's always been at odds with me from a young age. Whenever I rank first in an exam, Lance will report me to the school authorities for cheating. After I've joined my family company as a member of the board of directors, Lance goes as far as ramming his sports car into the company's main entrance. Once I start dating my girlfriend, Amethyst Wyndham, Lance does everything he can to steal her from me. Thank goodness Amethyst is naturally cold, aloof, and haughty due to her scholarly background. Whenever Lance proclaims his love for her in a seemingly devoted manner, she tends to reward him with a ruthless slap. "I'm your future sister-in-law. You'd better get rid of those disgraceful thoughts of yours." Later on, Lance finally accepts his fate. He no longer fights with me. Instead, he begins tempering his skills as an employee of the lowest rank in the company. Our father, Jeremiah Knight, openly praises Lance for his efforts at the year-end company gala. Even Amethyst makes a proud remark about Lance finally becoming mature. But on the night I officially take over the company as the CEO, Lance sends me a video clip. In that video, Amethyst, who has skipped out on the ceremony, can be seen nestling against Lance seductively.

My Alpha Female, my mate, had been gone a week surveying her territory. The moment she got back, I rejected our bond. "Just because I forgot your little trinket?" She laughed, blue eyes careless as ever. "Yes." I stared at her, face a mask. Seven days ago, Rowan, Alpha Female of the Silvermoon Ridge Pack, took her core warriors to inspect a newly acquired mining territory. When she returned, she had gifts for everyone. Even the border patrol got aged liquor. She forgot the only thing that mattered. The pure Moonstone I needed to soothe my burning Alpha blood. I'd waited two months. Then her new Omega scribe, Finn, posted a selfie on the pack network—showing off a wolf-fang necklace carved from raw Moonstone. [Thank you to the most powerful Alpha Female in the world! My loyalty will never fade!] Rowan's comment sat right below: [You deserve it.] I stared a long time. Then I deleted the message I'd been typing to her: "Waiting for you to come home, my Alpha." Rowan and I grew up together. Twenty years intertwined. When we came of age, she became the Alpha Female, I became her Beta. Once, I was the only one by her throne. Then, slowly, the entire pack got in line ahead of me. Just like now. We were breaking our bond—the most serious thing imaginable. But her phone lit up with Finn's message. "Need your guidance on the territory resource files." She didn't even look up. "Stop making a scene, Caleb. It's just a rock. I'll get you one before next month's ceremony. Finn has something urgent. Drive yourself back." She hurried away. I didn't stop her. I pulled out my phone and replied to the Alpha of the Blackpeak Pack. He'd invited me seven times. "I'm in. Flight's tomorrow night. See you in Blackpeak." I pulled the moonstone bracelet from my wrist and left it in the drawer of her office desk. Rowan. From now on, you have your throne. I'll get mine.

Mandy York, my girlfriend, was practically a migratory bird that always flew away during summer. Every year, during July and August, which were the hottest months of the year, she would fly off and disappear from the face of the earth. She said that it was because her company gave her a special project abroad that required absolute secrecy from her. She was also not to contact anyone during that period of time. Even when I got into a car accident last year and lay in the ICU for two months, she never called to ask about me. Plenty of times, I had comforted myself and endured the harsh summer alone. One day, I accidentally saw the social media account of a friend of mine living abroad. It was his alternate account. Every year, during July and August, this alternate account would get really active. It would be full of videos and photos about his daily life with his daughter and a “mother” who always had her face hidden with stickers. In the videos, the mother accompanied the daughter to watch fireworks at Disneyland and pick up shells at the beach. Sometimes, I could see the side of her face. There was a mole at the corner of her eyes. I could even see a clear scar at the back of her hand. They were so familiar to me that my blood ran cold. It was Mandy. During the summer holidays, she would vanish for sixty days, and this had lasted for five years. So, she had never been flying off to work. She had gone to her other family. I sat stupefied on the couch and stared at the blinding sun outside. Suddenly, this year’s upcoming summer did not feel so difficult any longer. I picked up my phone and agreed to the marriage my family had arranged for me. Since Mandy refused to stay with me during summer, I was not going to waste my time on her.

My girlfriend, Eliana Hodson, and my so-called best friend, Austin Brock, had this thing for bets. And somehow, I was always the joke. They'd bet on how long I'd wait for them, which puddle I'd slip in when it rained, even whether the crazy-hot pepper Austin snuck into my food would make my nose run. Then Austin went overseas. Eliana and I got married, and I figured their stupid little game was finally over. Yeah. Nope. One night, I was working at a fancy lounge when I walked in on a group playing a betting game called Time Bomb. I set down their drinks just as I heard Eliana. "I lost." Her friends started yelling. "A bet's a bet! Pick a guy and dance with him!" Then Eliana—my wife, who had supposedly been paralyzed for three years—stood up and went straight to Austin. They spun across the dance floor as everyone clapped. One friend laughed. "Eliana, you're seriously messed up. Fake marriage, fake paralysis—you've kept Rafael as our entertainment for three years." Eliana laced her fingers with Austin's. "I lost the bet. Had to do it." Austin doubled over laughing. "We bet on whether Rafael would spend six years taking care of her. Eliana said no. I said yes. "Guess who's winning? "All it took was one fake marriage certificate. Even when Eliana pretended she couldn't walk, Rafael bought the whole thing. Dude carried her up and down the stairs for three years! "I know Rafael way better than she does. I'm gonna win." I stood in the shadows and smiled. 'So the bets never stopped. 'Fine. 'I'm done being part of their stupid game.'

Jewel Rivers hated nothing more than having to turn back. If she left something behind, she would move on without it. If she took a wrong turn, she kept going. She said, "Turning back is a waste of time. The only way is forward." She even drove right past me without stopping one night after I had worked late. I texted her, "I just saw your car drive by. Can you turn around and pick me up?" Three minutes later, she replied, "Rules are rules. I don't turn back. Take a cab home yourself." - The next day was our eighth anniversary. We had planned to go to the nearby theme park together. Twenty minutes after we set out, my close friend, Jason Smith, sent a message in the group chat the three of us shared: [Jewel, you left your hair clip on my couch when you drove me home last night!] I froze for a moment. "You picked him up from work last night?" "It was on the way," she said casually. Jason sent another voice message, his tone cheerful. "Jewel, Beau, you two are going to the theme park today, right? I want to go, too. Can we all go together?" We were already halfway there, and I was about to tell Jason to take a cab and meet us at the entrance. Before I could, Jewel replied, "Sure. I'll come pick you up." My throat tightened. "Didn't you say you never turned back?" She turned her car around without hesitation. "Rules aren't set in stone. We can adapt." When we reached Jason's apartment building, I got out and gave him the front passenger seat. "You two have fun. I'm not going. Jewel, I'll follow your example for once. I'm not turning back either." I had walked this road for eight years, and I had no intention of taking a single step back.

I give relationship advice online, helping the lovesick and heartbroken work through their problems. One night a young man called into my livestream. A wealthy woman had been keeping him for seven years. Now he wanted to go home and get married, but she'd threatened to kill herself if he left. I gave him the standard advice. "You want out? Go to her husband. Tell him the truth. Give everything back." Three days later a property deed arrived, along with dozens of luxury-car keys and more than a hundred designer bags. Then my phone lit up with a transfer notification. Eight hundred and fifty thousand dollars. The note read: "Thanks for the advice. Returning everything to its rightful owner." I looked at my wife's name on the deed. That night I went live. "Tonight, I'm telling you a joke about myself."

The day summer break started after my third year of college, Mom and Dad drove over in their SUV to pick us up. My older sister, Janet Gould, helped carry the luggage. My younger brother, Harvey Gould, clung to Mom and soaked up her attention. When I carried my duffel bag downstairs, they stared at me in shock. None of them recognized me. "Liam, is that you? How did you lose so much weight?" Mom looked me over, her expression hard to read. For a moment, I thought she was worried about me. But then she suddenly frowned. "You're not sick, are you? We don't have health insurance for you." Janet looked at me with disgust. "Did you lose all that weight just to compete with Harvey for attention? That's ridiculous." Dad leaned out of the car. "Stop wasting time. Our table at the restaurant will be ready any minute. Same as always. Harvey gets car sick, so he sits in the front. Janet will sit in the back. "There's not enough room. Liam, just take a cab." I gripped my duffel bag tighter. "But it's a five-seater. Now that I'm…" Before I could finish, they drove away. I stood there staring at my luggage for a long time. I used to weigh 240 pounds. When Mom bought Janet a designer jacket that cost over a thousand dollars, she said they didn't have my size, so I didn't get one. Harvey wore basketball shoes that cost a few hundred dollars. Dad said they'd be too tight on my feet because of my weight, so I didn't get a pair either. I used to think they left me out of the car because I was too heavy. But it turns out even after losing 90 pounds, there was still no place for me in this family. If that's how it is, I won't try to fit in anymore.

After five years together, Abby Young finally said she was ready to take me home to meet her parents. However, on the day of the visit, she asked my friend Gene Burke to pretend to be her boyfriend and told me to tag along for the free meal. “Abby, I’m your boyfriend! You’re supposed to introduce me to your parents today!” She did not even look up. “Gene just went through a breakup last month. He wants to know what it feels like to meet a girlfriend’s parents, so let him have this one.” I refused to move. Gene sighed. “Forget it. I was only joking. You two should go.” He started to get out of the car, but Abby held him back. “Stay where you are. You’re not going anywhere.” Then, she pulled me into the car and said to me in a persuasive tone, “Tony, it’s only one dinner. I’ll explain everything to my parents after this. Just this once.” Left with no real choice, I reluctantly agreed. When we arrived at her parents’ house, Mr. Young’s face lit up the moment he saw Gene. “Gene, you’re here! Come in! We’ve been looking forward to seeing you. I even made that dessert you love!” Abby went inside with a smile, leaving me alone on the doorstep as though I did not belong there. I turned to her. “How do your parents know Gene?” Abby rubbed her nose, looking guilty. “Actually, this is the third time I’ve brought him home. I was worried about him after his breakup, so I’ve been passing him off as my boyfriend whenever we visit my parents.” I laughed in disbelief. I threw everything I was holding at her feet and turned to leave. “You can enjoy your little family dinner without me.”

Hallie Shaw lived her life judging everyone with a rigid scorecard. When we were dating, she used to say that any person or event scoring below ninety points wasn't worth a second of her time. After marriage, every single thing I did was evaluated. On our wedding anniversary, I prepared a full spread of her favorite dishes. She took one bite and said, "Eighty-nine points." Then she set down her utensils and left to share a meal with Miles, who allegedly had a poor appetite. For the company's anniversary party, I tried on twenty-seven suits, only for her to glance at me and say, "Eighty-eight points. Not suitable to bring along." That very night, she walked into the celebration with Miles, who was wearing nothing more than a simple white shirt. To earn that perfect score, I quit my dream job, earned seven professional certifications, and learned four foreign languages. Yet no matter how hard I tried, my score remained forever stuck at eighty-nine. Meanwhile, Miles didn't have to lift a finger. Just by standing there, he was automatically a perfect hundred. I asked her once, "What does it actually take to get a ninety?" She glanced over at Miles and offered no answer. In that moment, a sudden, bitter laugh escaped my lips. Her scoring criteria had only ever had one rule from start to finish, and it wasn't me. I pulled off my wedding ring and dropped it straight into the wine glass in front of her. "Hallie, this time, I'm the one giving out the scores. Your loyalty: zero points. Your marriage: zero points. And as a person, you fail."

Gerald Dawson, my brother-in-law, is losing a lot of blood and urgently needs a transfusion. He has a rare blood type, Rh-negative, and Brian Johnson, my wife's first love, happens to be the closest person with the matching blood type. In my past life, I beg Brian to save Gerald. He gets lightheaded after donating his blood, misses a step, and tumbles down the stairs, breaking his neck and dying instantly. Gemma Dawson, my wife, pins his death entirely on me. She takes me bungee jumping on my birthday and directly pushes me off the platform. "Brian suffered so much when he died! You're going to pay it back a hundredfold, Simon!" I have been reborn, and Gemma chooses her first love over me. I respect her decision and wish her the best, but she eventually comes to regret her choice.

My wife, Claire, wanted our son to give up a kidney to save her childhood sweetheart's daughter. I refused. I fought her so hard that I thought she'd finally let it go. Then our son vanished, and Claire stopped answering my calls. I went to the hospital to find her. There, I learned that the little girl had finally found a donor. Claire would perform the transplant herself. She'd promised to keep her safe. Then I saw the name listed under deceased organ donor. It was my son's.

I waited half an hour for a cab in the pouring rain. When one finally arrived, Claire held the door open and spoke to the driver. "My friend has been through something traumatic. Could you take him home first?" Her so-called friend was Adrian Cole, her ex. The driver glanced past her at me, uneasy. "But this gentleman booked the ride." Only then did Claire seem to remember that I was standing there — her actual boyfriend. "He won't mind. I'll pay extra." Once Adrian was inside, she took a picture of the license plate, the way she always had, and reminded the driver—twice—to get him home safely. She didn't ask what I would do. She got into her own car and left. She never drove me to or from work. People might get the wrong idea. I stood alone in the storm for another two hours. Not a single driver accepted my request. Then I saw Adrian's post: a whole gallery of license-plate photos. "All these years, and she still hasn't broken the habit." I zoomed in on the screenshots. From the time they'd been together until now, Claire had taken more than thirteen hundred of those pictures. She was so careful about appearances with me. Yet as Adrian's "friend," she could make sure he got home safely every day. She said she'd forgotten him. But the habit was in her bones, and that hadn't gone anywhere. And suddenly, I knew. I didn't want a relationship where even my safety came second.

My family is democratic. Every decision is always settled by a family vote. Mom, Dad, my older brother, and my little sister each get one vote. I get one vote too. But the problem is that four votes always beat one. I never win. When I'm a sophomore in high school, my brother, Jonathan Hayes, wants a new computer. The vote passes four to one. The money I'd spent three years saving for college course fees disappears overnight. During senior year, I earn an early admission offer from North City University. My little sister, Jasmine Hayes, bursts into tears, saying she doesn't want me to move so far away. So, the family holds another vote. Dad places an application form on the table and says, "The majority has spoken. You'll attend the local teachers college." I argue that I've worked myself to the bone to get into North City University. Mom frowns. "Why are you so stubborn? If you stay here, you'll be able to help Jon later and also keep an eye on Jas. Wouldn't that be better for everyone?" Then, when Jonathan's startup business runs into financial trouble, Dad picks up my admission letter and announces that my tuition money will be loaned to Jonathan first. Jasmine links her arm through mine and says with a smile, "Josh, everyone has already voted. You can't be upset just because you lost." Looking at the admission letter that's decided by their votes, I suddenly find it absurd. So, this is what they call democracy—four of them legally deciding what I should lose. That night, I don't argue. I go online and fill in an application to a classified research program in the Northwest Podin Desert. From then on, the only vote that matters is my own.

Everyone in our circle knew me as Violet Gilman's devoted lapdog of a boyfriend. If she told me to jump into a river, I jumped. If she wanted me kneeling in the rain all night, I knelt through the night. I was so obedient that when she kept a boy toy on the side, I'd even volunteer to bring him condoms. People in our circle praised her for raising such a good lapdog, and sneered at me, certain I'd stoop to anything just to marry into money. But when she brought up marriage herself at a family dinner, I shook my head and turned her down. "I've already done everything there is to do. Marriage, though? That, we can skip."

On the 1,001st day, Ruby Anderson still hadn't shown up at the city hall. The staff member tapped on the rejected application form and laughed at me mockingly. "Mr. Scott, this makes a thousand times, You should set a time with Ms. Anderson before coming back. "Stop wasting everyone's time." Everyone knew that Ruby was the richest person in this city. She had very limited time. When she was happy, everyone would respectfully address me as "Mr. Scott". However, when she was upset, I would be treated even worse than her nanny. Everyone would take a dig at me. They seemed to have forgotten that she was the one who proposed to me 99 times with roses. She had told the whole world that I was the only man she wanted to marry. I naively believed that she was always too busy. Until I found 997 used condoms locked inside her safe. Each one was labeled with the time and place, along with the name of her first love. This time, I didn't ask her again when we were going to register our marriage. Instead, I called that number, my voice calm. "Please reserve one application form for the memory-erasure experiment for me."

On the final day of our graduation trip, an extreme heat wave struck without warning. I was unfortunate enough to suffer heat exhaustion, but my girlfriend, Claire Whitmore, gave all the electrolyte water to her male best friend, Alex Sterling. “You’re usually in good health, and you know first aid. Just drink some bottled water and take a break. “But Alex is different. He’s always been physically weak. If he doesn’t replenish his electrolytes, something could go wrong.” Too dizzy to argue, I had no choice but to ask the other members of our group for help. Instead, they rolled their eyes at me. “Daniel Hayes, there’s a limit to how jealous you can get.” “Claire is just taking extra care of someone who’s sick. You’re a grown man. Do you really have to act like you’re dying?” When the group continued ahead, Claire frowned at me sitting on the ground. “Do you really have to ruin everyone’s mood right now? “Fine. Stay here and think about what you’ve done. When you realize your mistake, catch up with us yourself.” What she didn’t know was that I had already begun showing symptoms of heatstroke. And she certainly didn’t know that the moment she left, a system notification echoed inside my mind. [Host’s life is in critical danger. Would you like to leave this world?] I calmly closed my eyes. “I accept.”