Melodramatic Marriage Short Stories & Novels

I was the only human at the vampire banquet, and the fiancée of the Prince's heir, Lucien. As a child, I once saved Lucien from vampire hunters, and the Prince and his wife chose me for him, sealing our engagement. Everyone envied me. I was merely the daughter of a human nobleman, yet I had the fortune to marry above my station into the Prince's family. To be worthy of him, I worked to make everything perfect. But among vampires, I always seemed slow and clumsy. They moved faster than me, heard far more than I could, and even the simplest vampire customs took me longer to memorize. Every time I reacted a step too slow, Lucien would remind me with a frown. "How are you ever going to be a proper wife like this?" He always said that compared to the girl he grew up with, his former fiancée, I still fell far short. Every single time, I was laughed at without mercy. Lucien would never let anyone hurt me, but he never once defended my dignity. Eventually, I broke off the engagement and decided to marry someone else. Lucien's face darkened. "You're really going to marry this human?" "Yes. Because he has never once called me stupid." Lucien scoffed. "That's your reason?" I nodded. "That's my reason."

A day before my wedding, my fiancee, Claudia George, was suddenly required to go on a business trip to North City. “There are some issues with the project. The issue should be settled by tomorrow morning, and I’ll return immediately. I won’t delay the wedding at all.” She was afraid that I would overthink the situation, so she video-called me right after she landed. In the video call, she was wearing the down jacket that I had bought her. Behind her was the white wall of the hotel. It was snowing heavily outside the window. She showed me the entire room. There was one pillow on the bed, and one set of toiletries on the sink. She even opened the closet for me to have a look. I nodded with a smile and urged her to go to sleep early. However, after she hung up, my tears trickled down my cheeks uncontrollably. It was a super El Nino year. No snow was supposed to fall upon North City.

When I reach the underground parking lot, I find out that my husband, Victor Blake, has parked his car in a slanted manner. Great, his car has taken over my parking slot again. I call him and tell him to get his ass downstairs so that he can move the car out of my parking slot. While waiting for him, I come across a post on the Internet. "I'm screwing the brains out of my mistress right now. What should I do to avoid getting discovered by my wife, who might be home anytime soon?" The comment section goes nuts. Apparently, the original poster has left a like on one of the comments. "Park your car in a way that it eats into your wife's parking slot. That way, she'll have to call you every time she gets home. Not only do you have time to clean up the scene and protect your mistress, but you also get to tell your wife in a righteous manner that you're reserving a parking slot for her." I frown immediately. As soon as I tap on the WhatsApp chat, I hear someone knocking on my window. Victor can be seen jiggling his car keys outside the car. "What's with the rush? I did this just so I can reserve a parking slot for you, you know."

The night we fought for the port, I took a ricin-laced bullet for my husband, Don Nick Valenti. As I lay dying, Dr. Bruno Esposito, the Valenti family's doctor, brought out the last dose of antiserum. He said a shot right away would save me. But Nick injected the lifesaving serum into Mia Conti instead. Mia suddenly developed stomach cramps, so Nick ordered Bruno to give her the antiserum slowly through an IV. He ignored the fact that I could barely breathe and my skin was turning blue. Isabella Valenti, Nick's mother and the former Donna, clutched her crucifix. “Your wife is the one who was poisoned, Nick! Why are you saving Mia?” Nick pressed a cotton ball to Mia's arm to stop the bleeding. “Mia's been sheltered her whole life. She's never had so much as a scratch. Julia's survived more gunshot wounds than I can count. She'll pull through this one too.” Isabella's face went cold and hard. “Julia has pulled you out of gunfire at least ten times. Her father and brother both died helping you seize power! And you won't even give her the antiserum that could save her life?” Nick's voice was cold. “Mother, I never forced them to do any of it! When Julia married me, she made her vows before God. She loves me. She chose all of this.” He came over to my bed and touched my face. “Julia, I know you're stronger than this. I'll have Bruno do everything he can. You're my wife and the Donna of the Valenti family.” He looked as tender as he had the night before, when he had held me in his arms. I looked at the empty syringe in his hand, and suddenly, none of it felt worth it anymore. “Nick Valenti! You had better pray I don't survive. “Because if I do, you'll answer to God for everything you've done!”

Three years ago, Vincent Harlow slept with a college student. When I found out, I was ready to walk away from the marriage with nothing if it meant I could divorce him. The day we were supposed to finalize the paperwork, Vincent jumped off a high-rise building. Tree branches broke his fall partway down. He survived, but his leg was shattered. Now, he was in a hospital bed and sobbing through apologies, begging me to give him one more chance.

I plan on ordering some food using my husband's phone, yet I've noticed a remark that's been saved on the delivery app. "The food is for a pregnant lady. Please make sure to be hygienic and use less oil and salt when making the dishes." I can feel my heart sink. I turn my gaze toward the bathroom, where my husband is. I can't figure out why my husband, who's been firm about not wanting a child, has been ordering meals for pregnant women. After a moment of hesitation, I scroll through the delivery app's order history with shaky hands. Numerous orders have been placed with the same restaurant, one that specializes in making exquisite dishes designed for pregnant women. Each of these food orders costs more than ten thousand dollars. My husband's company address has been chosen as the delivery address, and he's also the recipient. … After exiting the delivery app, I sit on the couch and stare into space. As I look at my husband's well-defined muscles, I recall how he, who's about to hit 40, is suddenly quite invested in getting in shape over the past year. I blurt out asking, "Have you been ordering food to your office often lately?" My husband freezes for a split second. Then, he fixes me with a gentle gaze. "I do that once in a while. Why are you suddenly asking about that? By the way, I haven't had the sweet and sour meatballs you make in a long while. Can you make some for me so that I can bring them to the office for my lunch tomorrow?" I smile at him and agree to his request. Still, I toss and turn in bed as the remark about the pregnant lady in his phone keeps gnawing at me that night.

My sister Isolde and I used to be human. The twin vampire princes, Caelum and Dorian, turned us and married us. The entire vampire world celebrated. Two human sisters, personally turned by the Crown Princes? It was the highest honor a mortal could receive. We believed we were loved. We were fools. Five months into my pregnancy, I was attacked by a group of exiled vampires in the forest beyond our territory. I called Caelum nine times. He didn’t pick up. The exiles circled me, cutting into my arms and legs with blades that burned. Pain tore through my body. I called a tenth time. This time, Caelum’s cold voice came through: “Haven’t you had enough? Vivienne is being tracked by hunters. Stop bothering me.” Vivienne was the human girl that both princes truly loved. The one who had refused to be turned. With nothing to stop them now, the exiles closed in. Their leader drove a blade into my stomach. I watched the light leave my body from the inside out, and felt my unborn child die. When I was close to death, my sister Isolde found me and fought the exiles off. But there were too many. Isolde was badly wounded. She called her husband Dorian for help. All she got was: “Looking for Vivienne. Don’t bother me.” Isolde carried me and ran. A storm hit and we were caught in the open at dawn—deadly for wounded vampires. The border patrol found us just in time. We barely survived. When I woke up in the infirmary, my first thought was simple: Sever the bond.

On the night of our seventh anniversary, I was pulled into an emergency C-section. Before I could scrub in, my director caught my arm. “Gianna, the woman on that table is under the protection of a man powerful enough to ruin this hospital by morning. Do not make a mistake.” I glanced at the patient chart and frowned. Men in our world including Enzo were all obsessed with their wives. How could a man like that possibly have another woman he cherished? The surgery went well. Clean incision. Clean closure. No complications. I had barely exhaled in relief when a swarm of men in black dragged me to my knees outside the recovery room and forced me to my knees outside a private recovery suite.

I begged my husband 304 times before he finally agreed to spend a birthday with our seriously ill daughter. We waited until the cake on the table melted and the warmth slowly left our daughter’s body, but he never showed up. Then, his first love shared a photo on social media. In it, my husband had one arm around her and the other holding her child. Behind them stood a towering birthday cake display. Our daughter had waited five years for a birthday cake that never came. Yet another child received it without even trying. The caption read: The promised tiered cake is finally here! I quietly liked the post. Soon after, he texted me, demanding an explanation. [How many times do I have to tell you? Miranda’s daughter is dealing with depression, and I need to be there for her. Don’t call me unless it’s urgent.] I looked down at the child in my arms, whose body had gone completely cold. “Alright,” I said softly. “I won’t do that again.”

My alpha mate Damien had no idea that I'd been secretly in love with him for seven years. The day his first love Sofia ran away from their mating ceremony, I put on the wedding dress and took Luna's place without hesitation. Despite everyone's dissuasion, I insisted on mating to the devastated man. After mating, he was incredibly caring and thoughtful, remembering every anniversary. I thought he'd finally fallen in love with me. Until the day his first love returned, all my illusions were shattered. When the rogue wolves attacked, he left me behind without hesitation to save Sofia: "She's not as strong as you. She needs me." This time, I didn't stop him. I simply severed our mate bond and leave our Pack. But why was this Alpha, who deeply loved Sofia, frantically searching the world for me?

I'm waiting for my wife, Sophia Young, to pick me up. My colleague, Tony Shaw, who habitually hitches a ride with us, stays with me. He complains incessantly, "Why isn't your wife here yet? It's freezing cold! I'd prefer to be home by today!" He lives in the western part of the city. Every time we drive him home, Sophia has to make a large detour. However, my stomach is killing me that day, so I politely break things to him while cradling my stomach. "Tony, I'm not feeling well today and would like to get home early to rest. You should take a taxi home yourself. I'll let you hitch a ride next time." Tony snorts coldly and walks away. I wait downstairs for another 30 minutes, only to receive a call from Sophia. She informs me, "Traffic along the street outside your office is unusually congested. I've stopped the car at the intersection up ahead, so come find me there." I venture into the rain to find her car while struggling to keep the umbrella up and open. When I open the car door, I realize it's already filled with her colleagues and there's no space for me. Sophia rolls the window halfway down and points at the blond-haired man drying his hair with a towel in the front passenger seat. She explains, "Ian saw his friend at the intersection just now. The handsome young man looked rather pitiful soaking in the rain, so I gave him a lift. Your company's close by anyway, so why don't you head back in there first? I'll come back to pick you up once I've sent them home." The storm ruins my umbrella, and rain gets in my eyes, making them sting painfully. As I gaze at Sophia's packed car, I find that my marriage to her suddenly feels incredibly meaningless.

I've gone on a business trip. It's 3:00 am when my best friend suddenly calls me. He asks me why I didn't tell him that I already have a baby, seeing as we haven't met for a year. That question takes me by surprise. Josephine Bennett and I have been married for many years, but we've been using contraception all this time. Since when do we have a baby together? My best friend then sends me a screenshot of Josephine's social media feed. The caption shows, "This marks our 100th day together, my darling baby! I love you so much!" My heart goes tense when I see the screenshot. Immediately, I call Josephine to ask her what's going on. Her reaction is very cool and collected, though. "That's a relative's baby. I found the baby super adorable, so I decided to share the post. I didn't think I'd end up sharing the caption too." I just smile when I hear Josephine's answer. Later on, I call my older brother, Leonard Sterling. "Cut the funding for Josephine's research project. Turns out she's been cheating on me."

To snatch a limited-edition piece of jewelry for his mistress, my blind brother was shoved down a flight of stairs. Ethan Sterling, one of the best surgeons in the country, refused to enter the operating room — all because of a tiny cut on his precious sweetheart's finger. He forged a forensic report and bought Daniel's life for a mere fifty thousand dollars. Even my own daughter turned against me: "You're a liar! Aunt Vivian is the best person in the whole world!" Later, in front of everyone, I stepped off the third-floor terrace and plunged into the void. Ethan Sterling lost his mind. He knelt by the river for three days and three nights, clawing his fingers raw against the stone. A year later, desperate to save his daughter from going blind, he knelt in a downpour begging that mysterious, world-renowned surgeon. I stood there holding my umbrella, utterly unmoved. "I'm afraid you have the wrong person, Mr. Sterling. Miss Holloway died a year ago." "I'm Mrs. Ashford. I'm here to acquire Sterling Medical."

On Christmas Eve, I giddily wait for my husband, Hunter Gibson, to come home while nursing my eight-month pregnancy. Unexpectedly, Hunter bursts through the front door with his childhood friend, Winter Jones, in his arms. I attempt to help him out, only to get shoved to the floor instead. My belly bumps into a corner of the coffee table, causing pain to shoot up my nerves. Cold sweat soon beads on my forehead, and yet Hunter doesn't even spare me another glance. "Get out of my way! Someone drugged Winnie's drink at the bar! If I don't purge the poison out of her, she'll die!" As I shield my belly, I dig out my phone. "I'll call an ambulance for her—" But Hunter snatches my phone away before hurling it at the floor, breaking it into splinters. Then, he grabs me by the neck angrily. "Are you trying to ruin Winnie's reputation? If word gets out, how is she going to live with her head hung high?" In order to prevent me from "ruining his plan", Hunter decides to trap me on the balcony while disregarding my pleas and the fact that I'm only wearing thin pajamas. "You should take some time to cool off! Once you've finally learned your lesson, you're only permitted entry!" I can only slam my palms onto the glass door desperately with tears running down my face. There, I'm forced to watch as Hunter and Winter go at it like desperate rabbits on the carpet in the living room, with the Christmas songs serving as their ambiance. A heavy snowfall has occurred that night. At the crack of dawn the next morning, Hunter finally remembers that I exist. He calls my number, yet my phone was turned off. Furious, Hunter yells, "Where the hell did you go? Winnie's stomach is in discomfort! Get your ass back here right now and cook her some soup!" What he doesn't know is that I'm right outside the balcony door. The thing is, dead people are incapable of answering phone calls, not to mention Hunter has already broken my phone, to begin with.

For five years, I had stood by my girlfriend as she worked her way from a tiny street stall to a successful chain of stores. Three times, I waited for her to finally give me a home. The first time, she bought a one-bedroom apartment. I packed my bags, ready to move in, only for her to hand the keys to her childhood friend, who had just gone through a divorce. "He's raising his daughter on his own. It isn't safe for them to live somewhere else," she told me. "Just stay with me in the basement for a few more months." The second time, she bought a two-bedroom apartment. I had already bought new sheets and gotten everything ready. Then, by some twist of fate, her childhood friend's apartment caught fire. She gave the new place to him and his daughter, then took me back to the cramped room behind the store. When I told her I wanted to leave, she hugged me with tears in her eyes. "Just wait a little longer. Once we buy a three-bedroom place, I promise I'll finally give you a real home." I stayed with her for another two years because of that promise. Finally, the day came when the new house was ready. I rushed over with the suit lookbook I had kept for so long, only to find her childhood friend already there, holding his daughter's hand as they picked out bedrooms. My girlfriend stopped me and lowered her voice. "He's fighting his ex-wife for custody. He needs a stable home if he wants a chance of keeping his daughter. Stay at the store with me for one more year. Once he gets custody, I'll bring you home right away." The suit catalog slipped from my hands and hit the floor. That was when I finally understood. It was not that she had never been able to give me a home. It was that every time, she chose someone else. This time, I was not waiting anymore. I no longer wanted the "home" she spoke of. I would leave her to care for the one person she had always wanted to protect.

A blizzard had buried the mountain, turning every road into a death trap. Locals called it Deadman's Pass—seventy-two icy switchbacks with zero room for error. As the only person who had ever made it through without a scratch, I'd just gotten a million-dollar rescue call from beyond the final curve. Ten years ago, I went there once. My seventeen-year-old daughter, Maya, was skydiving with her classmates when a violent air current forced an emergency landing. The rescue came too late. She died there. Later, I learned my husband, Jayden Boone, had ignored Maya's safety. He poured hundreds of thousands of dollars into the rescue effort and redirected every team to save his ex's daughter instead. The girl had only sprained her ankle on a hiking trip. The day Maya died, I walked away from my career as a professor and stayed here, living as a broke driver. I risked my life running Deadman's Pass again and again until I knew every turn by heart. In the ten years since, no one else had died on that road. Today, a friend shoved a million-dollar rescue job in front of me and told me to leave right away. I looked at the face in the photo—the one I could never forget. Then I smiled and tossed my keys onto the table. "I can't take this job."

Right before New Year’s, the sports car I had waited six months for was finally delivered. However, my wife Vanessa snatched the keys from my hand. “Ryan likes sports cars. Let him take yours for a quick spin.” I refused. I knew her godbrother, Ryan, did not even have a driver’s license. Still, she secretly gave him the keys anyway. When I saw my car again, the car hood was covered in blood. Vanessa was holding Ryan. Her face was full of distress, and her words left me stunned. “Honey, please take the blame for Ryan. No one will make things hard for you with your background.” I immediately refused, but Vanessa then pulled out her phone. “I already turned you in. Just go along with it. You’ll be fine.” I could not believe my eyes when I saw the police call history.

My wife, Jenna Cruise, is allergic to men's bodily fluids. Even the slightest skin contact makes her break out in red, swollen patches immediately. We have been married for three years, but we've never been intimate. We even use IVF to have a baby. While I'm with Jenna at her prenatal appointment, a violent patient starts a fight at the hospital, and I get stabbed multiple times just to protect her. I almost lose my life, but the thought of her and our unborn baby is what keeps me going. On the day I'm discharged from the hospital, I receive a video. It shows Jenna making love to another man, doing all sorts of things in bed. Her skin looks flawless. Aside from the love bite the man leaves on her chest, there isn't a single red welt on her body. I look up and see Jenna peeling an apple for me. She's wearing a mask, and her dress is buttoned all the way to the top. She's wearing gloves too, completely covering herself up. The timestamp shows that the video was taken just yesterday. I reach for the buttons on her dress, my hands trembling, but she immediately shoves my hand away. "Don't touch me! Stay away from me!" The look in her eyes makes me feel like I'm something disgusting. I also finally realize that she's not allergic to men's bodily fluids. She's just allergic to me. As Jenna heads to the bathroom to change, I call the number I've had blocked for the past five years. The person on the other end answers almost immediately. "Give me your location. I'll be right there," I say.

Everyone in Sicily knew that the one person Don Dario cared about above all else was his wife, Eliana. To secure my position as his donna, he had even wiped out three whole families just for talking trash about me. However, I was the only one who knew the truth. The person who truly stood by his side had never been me. It was his most trusted right-hand person, Scarlett. Last week, we got ambushed down at the docks. The second gunshots rang out, his instinct wasn't to grab me, but to pull Scarlett into his arms and shield her. By the time he snapped back to reality and looked for me, a stray bullet had already grazed my upper arm. He brushed the plaster dust off Scarlett’s shoulders, making sure she didn't have a single scratch. Only then did he turn around and notice my bleeding arm. Shock crossed his face, as if he never expected me to get hit. “Eliana, are you okay?” I didn't answer him. I kept telling myself I needed to be understanding of his duties as don—until today. Dario had promised to take me to a charity auction tonight. He said he would buy me whatever I wanted just to make it up to me. Yet, right after I put on my gown, he walked in with a guilty look. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I forgot to tell you that Vincent's crew will be there tonight. We need to discuss the shipping dock business, so I’ve already arranged for Scarlett to be my date.” Before I could even reply, Scarlett stepped out wearing a dress color-coordinated with his suit. As I watched them walk away, the last bit of hope in my heart shattered. From now on, I was done watching their backs. They could stand side by side all they wanted. I took off my gown and booked a flight to Quebec in five days.

Before my wife, Camille Lamberg, left the house, she dropped an invitation in the entryway. It was for a sip-and-see party, a celebration to welcome a month-old baby. Since I was heading that way anyway, I figured I'd drop it off for her. But the moment I pushed open the doors to the hotel ballroom, I froze as if I'd been struck by lightning. My wife, the woman who'd sworn she wanted to stay child-free, was holding a chubby, rosy-cheeked baby and making the rounds with a glass raised alongside another man. My in-laws gathered around the three of them, beaming as they posed for a family photo. And the photographer was none other than my best friend since childhood, Jonah Grant. The second he spotted me, he rushed over and blocked me from going into the ballroom. "Adam, calm down! Camille just wants a baby. You can't take away her chance to be a mother just because you can't have kids!" It wasn't until the man turned around that I got a good look at him. The man my wife was cheating on me with was Oliver Weaver, my father's illegitimate son. My wife, my in-laws, and my closest friend had all known the truth, and every one of them had still betrayed me.