เรื่องสั้นและนิยายในฉากFeel-Good Story Marriage

Two years ago, a rogue wolf's bullet took my sight. The day I got it back, I couldn't wait to share the news with my Alpha mate Lucian. But outside the door, I overheard Lucian talking with his Beta. "Alpha, the Luna has been blind for two years. Just so you could be with your first love, you used a witch's potion to mask Silas's scent, and then you begged the Moon Goddess to tie her bond to him... Aren't you afraid the two of them will actually sleep together?" Alpha Lucian took a sip of his drink, his voice smug. "Silas has the best self-control of any wolf in the pack. Back in training, he could stay clear-headed even after he was drugged. "Besides, since Leona lost her eyes, she has had almost no interest in sex. She lives inside her own shame now." The Beta couldn't resist teasing him. "Honestly, I can't decide whether to pity the Luna or wonder whether Silas even likes women. The Luna is the most beautiful woman in the pack, and those two just talk and nothing ever happens. What a waste!" "Then you take Silas's place next time and keep Leona entertained." The laughter that followed grated in my ears. I looked at Alpha Silas, sitting in the corner. Aloof, sparing with words, his profile clean and sharp. A man that fine, that striking, left to go to waste. It really was a shame.

Three years ago, my father ran into a burning building and carried my wife Vanessa out. He came out of it with scorched lungs and one leg gone. Vanessa sat by his hospital bed and cried all night, swearing she would honor him like her own father for the rest of her life. Three years later a storm drowned the city. My father was trapped on the fourth floor, and every breath he coughed out came up with blood. I called Vanessa, who ran rescue dispatch, forty-two times. She didn't pick up once. Her only reply was, "Your father can hold on. Save the ones in worse danger first." But five minutes later, someone posted a video in the residents' group chat. Vanessa was piloting the only medical boat in the city herself, and she had gone to collect Julian Marsh, her childhood sweetheart, whose only injury was a twisted ankle, and he could still walk. To make room for his golden retriever, the emergency stretcher had been stripped out of the boat beforehand. And my father was the only critical patient on the list who needed a stretcher to be moved. Even before he lost consciousness, my father clutched my sleeve and spoke up for her. "Don't blame Nessa. Saving people comes first." The next day I carried my father out of the disaster zone on my back. Vanessa saw me and frowned. "Why didn't you just wait? Once I was done with Julian, I would have come back for your father." I didn't argue. I just handed her two documents. One was the divorce papers. The other was the critical condition notice the doctors had issued after my father missed the window when he could still have been saved.

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!"

At the auction, my fiancé's secretary raised the bidding paddle twice on his behalf. The first time, she outbid Lady Margaret Vesta by a single silver coin, snatching away the emerald brooch meant as a coming-of-age gift for her daughter. She brandished the house seal of my fiancé, Cassian Severus, with a brazen grin. "Her husband can afford to keep a woman on the side, but he won't pay what he owes Cassian. I'm just collecting a little interest for him. What's the problem?" Cassian thought I was still at sea. He just smiled and told her not to be so blunt in front of a crowd next time. The second time, she set the seal into the gold tray, activating an irrevocable, open-ended bid. This time, she was after my mother's heirloom: a silver dolphin necklace. She sat in the seat that should have been mine, wearing the custom crimson gown I had paid for, and looked across half the hall at me. "It belonged to a dead woman. Anyone can wear it. Lady Helena has plenty of jewelry already. Why not let me have it?" Cassian still had his back to me. He didn't know I was already back.

For three years running, Matteo always had a reason to push the engagement date back, all because he was certain I could never want anyone but him. The first year, his parents refused to let him marry a poor girl like me, and the engagement was shelved. The second year, he lost the engagement rings I had made myself. No rings, no ceremony. The third year, he "forgot" to tell his parents the date and only told them at the last minute. There was too little time, they could not get there, and the engagement was shelved again. This year, though, none of those earlier "accidents" happened. There was only one exception. On the day of our engagement, the gown my mother had sewn for me stitch by stitch before she died somehow ended up on my stepsister, Capucine. She let her cat climb up the skirt and bite and claw at it until the lace was full of holes. Matteo did not scold her. He soothed her in a gentle voice instead. "It's fine. If it's ruined we'll just have another one made. It's an old dress, it's not like it's anything special." He ignored my red, swollen eyes. "The gown is gone now, so it looks like the engagement will have to wait until next year." I let out a cold laugh and stepped forward to strip the gown off Capucine. "Three times is enough. There won't be an engagement next year either." What he did not know was that before she died, my mother told me a secret she had kept for twenty years. I was never some poor girl. I was the only daughter of a Sicilian mafia family. My real father had found out where I had ended up, and he was already on his way to bring me home himself. Since this engagement was not going to happen, I had decided to go home with him.

One second before the ceremony was set to begin, my groom, Alvin Mercer, suddenly turned and walked out. "Lillian, Hannah's exhibition is falling apart. She's home alone right now and I have to be with her. We'll reschedule the wedding." Hannah Deneuve was the maid's daughter he'd grown up with. I caught him by the cuff. My voice came out flat and cold. "Alvin, this is the sixth time you have called off our wedding for her. If you walk out that door today, you and I are finished." But Alvin flung my hand off. "Enough! We can get married any time. Hannah needs me right now!" He left without looking back, and my heart slowly went cold. The priest clutched his Bible, visibly uncomfortable, and quietly asked me whether the ceremony should continue. I looked past a room full of stunned guests, straight at the man sitting in the corner of the very last row. "Of course. "Just with a different groom."

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.

Five years ago, I finally had my father’s killer at gunpoint—only for my husband, Don Salvatore Rizzo, to pull the killer’s daughter into his arms. "Julia, don't kill her. She had nothing to do with our fathers' feud." My grip tightened on the gun. "Do you know my parents were tied to stones and dumped into the sea because of one lie she told?" Salvatore sighed and pressed down on my wrist. "Darling, calm down. Caterina is just an innocent girl. She was forced into it." To keep me from killing Caterina, he insisted on bringing her into the Rizzo Family. From then on, there was nothing left between us but hatred. Whenever I held a knife to Caterina's throat, Salvatore aimed a gun at my back. When I tore up the gown Caterina's mother had left her, Salvatore made me stand outside all night in the freezing cold. Until today, when Caterina appeared behind Salvatore with a pregnancy report from the Family doctor in her hand. Salvatore shielded her with his body. "She's pregnant. I can't stand by and let you hurt her." Caterina said timidly, "Julia, please. For the sake of the Rizzo heir I'm carrying, put down the gun." I was the biggest joke in the world. I took half a step back and drew the gun at my waist. "Let's play a game. There's only one bullet in this gun." "If I die, no one will stand in the way of your happy little family." "If I survive, let me go."

After a seven-year relationship, I was supposed to walk down the aisle with my fiancé, Julian Bailey, next week. Heart filled with joy, I went to try on wedding dresses. That very night, private footage of me from the fitting was turned into AI-generated deepfakes and uploaded to every major social platform. In my past life, I had tried to convince people of my innocence. No one did. In public, my fiancé took the moral high ground, declaring he’d never take back a ruined woman. My parents claimed I had humiliated them and threw me out onto the street. Cornered and desperate, I jumped off a bridge. After I died, my fiancé pulled my trembling best friend into his arms, whispering softly: “It’s over now. Nothing can stand in our way. “Good thing she was such an idiot. She went to her grave suspecting nothing, thinking it was all her fault.” The truth chilled me to the bone. When I opened my eyes again, I was back at the exact second before stepping out to the fitting. My fiancé’s call came through. “Hazel, have you left yet? Laura and I are waiting at the boutique.”

After a wild month of partying across half the world, I unexpectedly found out that I was pregnant. I flew home overnight to surprise my husband, only to find a new nanny had moved into our house. Before I could say a word, she slapped me across the face. "What's a vixen like you doing here?" she snapped, fierce and full of herself. "Get out! This is my daughter's house! Out, out, out!" My hand froze halfway to dialing 911. I shot back instead, "Who's your daughter?" She settled onto the leather sofa I'd bought, crossed her legs smugly, and said, "My daughter is Paige Griffin, and her husband is Bradley Ford, Morlene City's hottest new rising star. Did you hear that clearly, or are your ears just for show?" My head started buzzing. I looked down at the wall-sized print of my wedding photo with Bradley and let out a bitter laugh. If her daughter was Bradley's wife, then who did that make me? Me, the proud daughter of Morlene City's richest man, had been reduced to being someone's mistress?

When a wave of labor pain brought me to my knees in the hospital hallway, Orson Caldwell, a brilliant doctor, was just about to wheel me into the delivery room. Just then, his phone rang. When he answered the call, his expression fell. "Seraphina, Cressie's teddy is having trouble giving birth. It's in critical condition, but the vet clinic in her town is closed. I have to perform a C-section on it." I clutched my stomach as blood slowly began to seep between my legs. "I'm fully dilated. If you leave now, what am I supposed to do?" Orson looked annoyed. "We'll get another doctor to do it. You're only giving birth, but Cressie's dog could die. I'll make it up to you and our child someday." With that, he rushed into the elevator without even taking off his white coat. I laughed through my tears, pulled out my phone, and called my father. "Dad, I'll agree to the arranged marriage."

It was Christmas Eve. I had flown home in a hurry, hoping to surprise my wife. But the moment I stepped inside, I heard Nancy Summerson say gently, "Dad, Mom, this is Ronald Riverton. We've been secretly married for years." She heard the door open and turned around. The second she saw me, she walked over and slapped me across the face. "You thieves are getting bolder by the day. Breaking and entering during Christmas Eve? Get out now!" I stared at her, my eyes red. I grabbed her hand tightly, hoping she would give me an explanation. She flung my hand away and took a phone out. "I've called the cops, and they'll be here very soon! They'll arrest you, thief!" Then Nancy turned back to her family and took Ronald's hand, intertwining their fingers as though I were nothing more than an unwanted stranger. "It's just a thief. The cops will handle him. Ignore him." I stood petrified. The four of them looked so happy together. As for me, all I felt was exhaustion. Without another word, I turned and left. Then I tossed the share transfer agreement I had brought for her into the bin.

After graduating from college, my daughter Zoe Dunne turned into a complete deadbeat. She was twenty-three, unemployed, and spent most of her days sleeping at home. She barely bothered to brush her hair or wash her face. Even getting out of bed for a meal seemed like too much effort. I worried constantly about how she was ever going to survive on her own. Then, one day, Michelle Tyler showed up at our door. She was my husband George Dunne’s longtime coworker. Also, as it turned out, she was the woman he had been sleeping with for decades. She had a son with her who was a year older than Zoe. Before I could say a word, George jabbed a finger in my face and started yelling, “All these years, and you couldn’t even give me a son! “Take your useless daughter and get out of my house. Neither of you is getting a cent from me!” With that, he flung the divorce agreement in my face, then put an arm around Michelle and sat down beside her. I stared at the divorce agreement in shock. My hands were trembling uncontrollably. Zoe wandered over with a yawn and dropped a thick stack of documents in front of him. “You’ve been cheating on Mom for decades, and we have more than enough evidence to prove it. You can wait for the court papers. “Also, yes, you two are getting divorced, but you’re the one walking away with nothing. You should also start paying Mom back for everything you owe her.”

Ten minutes before the wedding ceremony is about to begin, I receive a disturbing photo on my phone. In it, a man with deeply sunken eyes is crawling on the ground like a dog. He is so skinny that he's nothing more than skin and bones. Meanwhile, my bride, Waverly Suther, is looming over the man on the floor as she gazes down at him with a disdainful sneer. Just as I'm about to block the number of the person who sent me this disturbing prank photo, that person sends me another two messages. "Run away from the wedding! Right now! Don't marry Waverly Suther, no matter what!" "That man on the floor is you ten years from now!"

My wife is pregnant, and I'm a little worried. Before bed, I scroll through a parenting forum and come across an anonymous post. "My husband won't let me have my male best friend's baby. Is this a serious violation of my reproductive rights?" The poster pours her heart out, each line of the post dripping with self-pity. "My doctor said my progesterone levels are low, my her HCG levels aren't doubling as expected, and the gestational sac is implanted close to the scar tissue from my last surgery. If the pregnancy continues, it could cause massive bleeding and put my life at risk. "That's why my husband refuses to let me continue the pregnancy. But he doesn't understand. This baby is the only reminder my best friend left me. How can I force my husband to willingly raise another man's child?" The comments section is buzzing. Then, one highly upvoted reply makes my blood run cold. "Girl, you can't fight a man like that head-on. You have to destroy his confidence at the root. You should slip something into his drinks that reduces sperm activity. Then, trick him into getting a fertility test. When he sees a diagnosis saying he has a low sperm count, he'll be devastated. "After that, when you tell him that you're determined to give him a child no matter what, he'll be so grateful that he'll worship both you and that baby for the rest of his life!" Staring at the vicious scheme on the screen, I break out in a cold sweat. Just then, my wife walks into the bedroom carrying a warm glass of milk. "Honey, you've been so stressed taking care of me lately. You're even starting to get gray hairs. Here, have a glass of milk."

The villagers raised me as a child. So, when I became successful, I initiated a development plan for the village to repay their kindness. However, because of forced evictions, the village chief’s family, who were the kindest to me, four villagers, and two youngsters died miserably under the excavator’s shovel. I gave away every penny I had, knelt in the rubble to beg forgiveness, and was beaten bloody by the enraged villagers. I was left disfigured, crippled, and eventually thrown in prison for ten years. After I came out of prison, I went to a faraway place, changed my name, and worked on a construction site. I planned to just drift through the rest of my miserable life in obscurity. However, my ex-wife and daughter tracked me down. “Max, why didn’t you tell me when you got out? That whole thing has passed now. Weylon has built a great career. He can get you a decent job. “Come home. Our daughter and I miss you.” Our daughter, Josie, glared at me with grievance. “Who misses this murderer? He’s the reason I can’t hold my head up. Everywhere I go, people curse me. I don’t want a beast like him for a father. “Mom, you and Uncle Weylon are all the family I need…” I caressed the scar on my face, looked at my crippled right leg, and felt my numb heart ache once more. Back then, the person who skimmed the compensation money, forced the evictions, and caused those deaths was Weylon, my ex-wife’s foster brother. To protect him, she had threatened me with our daughter’s life and made me take the fall. At that moment, she was standing before me, offering charity from on high.

At the final meeting before the company's IPO, my wife, who was supposed to give the presentation, was absent. I called her multiple times, but she never answered. Because of her absence, the company lost the bid and became the laughingstock of the industry. Right at that moment, her male best friend uploaded a new post. "It's just a cold. Look at how worried she is." I clicked on it. There was my wife, whom I hadn't seen in days, crouched beside him, fawning over him as she gave him his medicine. I was utterly disappointed. In that moment, the five years we had spent together vanished completely.

I had always been the one who kept my husband, Julian Whitmore, in line. After the car accident, I finally stopped. Julian threw a party with his friends to celebrate. "Elena's finally off my back. Now I can mess around like the rest of you." He even brought Chloe Marsh, his pregnant secretary, back to our home. Chloe was gorgeous and she knew it. But around Julian, she turned sweet and helpless. She'd stroke her flat stomach and talk to me like we were best friends. Julian pulled her close and dropped another bombshell. "Once Chloe gives birth, you'll adopt the baby. He'll be your son." "You can't have children anyway. I'm willing to let her baby call you Mom. That's more than fair to you." He didn't know I had found out I was pregnant after the accident. He also had no idea that while I was unconscious, I'd seen exactly how my life with him would end. In the dream, I lost my baby. I got my parents and my best friend killed. And in the end, I couldn't even find a place to bury my child. When I woke up, I made one choice. Leave Julian and take my child home.

I took the fall for my husband over an illegal arms deal and spent three years in federal prison. By the time I got out, he already had a child with another woman. On the day of the christening, I calmly handed him divorce papers. Everyone said I had lost my mind—that I was declaring war on the Nelli family. I was perfectly clear-headed. Before I went in, my husband, Silvio Nelli, held my hand and swore he would never betray me as long as he lived. But the night before my release, I dreamed that he wiped out the Thorne family for that woman and took everything I had. I died beside my parents' bodies while he held that woman's child. In the end, he was the only one who came out ahead. Now the child from my dream was real. I wasn't going to wait for the nightmare to come true. I would take back everything my three years in prison had bought him. Then I'd make him pay in blood.

Halfway through our reunion with some friends, my fiancée went missing. I was about to look for her when comments started popping right in front of me. "What's the second lead doing, coming to his car? The male and female lead are still going at it!" "I love seeing how his new car has become the stage for the lead characters' first time!" "That's what he gets for taking the male lead's spot for too long!" Our mutuals stopped us. "Helga's gone to get you a present. You should go back and wait." "Friends for life. They're covering up for the male and female leads," read one comment. "The beautiful female lead belongs to no one but the male lead! If I were there, I’d lie to that jerk too!" "Man, they kissed so passionately before getting in that they even damaged the bumper." I looked at the scorching sun, then at the car. The AC wasn't on. I called my car insurance agency. "Hey, my bumper was damaged. Come over here in an hour. I'll be waiting by my car." "An hour? The male and female leads are going to die from the heat!!"