After Death Romance-Kurzgeschichten & -Kurzromane

To help my husband, Julian Parker, pay off the debt from his stock-market losses, I agreed to sell one of my kidneys. But on the day of the surgery, our six-year-old daughter, Ella Parker, ran to the clinic all by herself and frantically called Julian for help. Julian sounded conflicted. "Mom's only having one kidney removed. It'll get Dad out of this mess for good. But if she doesn't do it, Dad's whole future is ruined." Ella kept begging him to stop the surgery, but Julian simply hung up. Then he hurried toward a private hospital suite nearby, his face filled with worry. Inside lay Claire Morgan, the woman he'd never gotten over. Her face was deathly pale. "Don't worry. We've got a kidney for you. You're going to be fine." He lowered his voice. "And don't feel guilty. I'm the one who chose to lie to her. She's still young. She can live just fine with one kidney." Claire's transplant was a success. Julian was in such a good mood afterward that, for once, he even suggested taking Ella and me on a trip, calling it a belated honeymoon. But he had no idea I was already dead. After my kidney was removed, I couldn't even afford $9.90 for the antibiotics I needed. The wound became infected, and I died. And Ella finally gave up on her father, too.

In the second year of our marriage, which Brett Mason had secured through relentless means, he brought home his latest conquest—a stunning blonde. As the door swung shut, he ran his fingers through her silky hair, flashing me a smug, triumphant grin. "Wanna join us? You might learn a thing or two about not being such a dead fish." I could still recall how he once adored my hair, claiming that just stroking it would melt away his deepest worries. It turned out any woman could serve that purpose. In that instant, a profound sense of release washed over me. I retrieved the divorce agreement I'd stashed away in a drawer and handed it to him. "Sign it, and I'll make room for her." My days were numbered, and I had no intention of wasting what little time remained entangled in his resentment.

When I was trapped by large columns of fire alongside Reya, my firefighter husband appeared and chose to only rescue her. I got on my knees inside the sea of fire and begged him to save me, too. He jabbed a merciless kick at me. “You are evil through and through, Amaranth. Are you not going to give Reya a chance to live at least? I will never forgive you for starting this fire to kill her!” At this point, his forgiveness no longer mattered. After he rescued his former lover from the scene, I was burned to a crisp alongside the baby inside me.

On the day I was released from the psychiatric hospital, my husband, Steve Machleit, spoke up out of nowhere, "The day Jess hit and killed your mother, I was the one who hired a lawyer to defend her." My father, David Plaxton, the most elite doctor in Melhorn City, kept his hands on the wheel and said breezily, "I forged your psychiatric records myself." For three years, I was tormented in that psychiatric hospital, and not a moment went by that I didn't relive the horror of my half-sister, Jess Plaxton, running down my mother, Catherine Eaton. Yet, my husband had chosen to defend her, and my father had locked me away in a psychiatric hospital. I forced myself to stay upright, my voice trembling. "Why?" My father looked away. It was Steve who answered, as if it were nothing, "It's simple. You already have everything, but Jess has had to carry the stigma of being an illegitimate child. She's suffered enough. "Now you have two choices. Either make peace with Jess, or spend the rest of your life in the psychiatric hospital."

My fiancé sent me overseas and immediately burned my wallet, threw away my phone, and tore up my visa. He did it all to make sure I couldn't return home and ruin his wedding to his first love. His friends tried to warn him. "Don't go too far. What if your fiancée really gets angry?" But my fiancé didn't care at all. "She's gotten too spoiled because I've always treated her too well. I'm just teaching her to be more understanding. Besides, Yvonne and I aren't really getting married. I'm only doing this so her dying grandmother can pass away without regrets. Nothing will happen between us. Once the wedding is over, I'll make it up to Winnie." The moment his wedding ended, he rushed to find me and apologize. But he never got the chance to see me. Later, he even took my documents and planned to register our marriage first as a way to make it up to me. It seemed he truly had no idea that I had already died the night he sent me overseas.

The ninth time Julian Hale chose Vivian Cross over me, I held a knife to Vivian's throat and made her beg for forgiveness in the middle of a crowded downtown plaza. I thought that would finally be enough to end the affair. Instead, Julian made me pay for hurting her. He went after my father's company and destroyed it, leaving my family broke and buried in debt to loan sharks. In the end, my father, Martin Ellison, couldn't take it anymore. He swallowed an entire bottle of pills beside my mother, Diane Ellison. The shock was too much for her heart, and she died soon after. I lost both my parents in a single day. The day after the funerals, the doctor gave me more bad news. I had late-stage stomach cancer. I had three months left, maybe less. And just like that, I was done fighting. I moved out of our bedroom, threw away my wedding ring, and stopped calling him hundreds of times whenever he stayed out all night. Even when he brought Vivian home just to provoke me, I didn't argue. Instead, I hired a top chef to cook her favorite dishes. Julian thought I had finally learned my place. Then came Vivian's birthday. With a shy smile, she said her birthday wish was to marry Julian. I pulled the signed divorce papers from my bag and slid them across the table. Julian panicked. He ripped them apart and grabbed my wrist, his eyes bloodshot. "Nora, what game are you playing now? Trying to make me chase you? Where did all that fight in you go?" Before I could answer, I coughed up a mouthful of blood.

After getting into another argument with Marilyn Cortell, I miss out on the chance to see my mother one last time. From then on, I become Marilyn's perfect husband—never possessive, never jealous, and never asking for a divorce. Even when a photo of her and Henry Solon together in bed makes it onto the trending topics online, all I do is tell the media that I hope she gets what she wishes for. However, for once, Marilyn attempts to explain to me without me confronting her about it. I smile and tell her that I understand. "I know that it's all for work. You're only able to get inspiration for your songs when you're with him. I don't mind." Everyone in the industry praises her for training me so well, turning me from an easily jealous man who will go crazy at the very mention of Henry's name to the ideal husband that I am that day. One day, Marilyn gets drunk and initiates intimacy with me. Yet, I push her away and call Henry's number. Snatching the phone from me, she throws it to the ground and snaps, "Why are you pushing me toward another man?" I reply in confusion, "Didn't you tell me previously that you had no inspiration when sleeping with me?"

Once upon a time, Kayla thought she and Winston would be together until the day they died. She would never have expected them to take separate paths so soon. After retrieving her diagnosis report, she sees him holding another woman in his arms. A final tear trickles down her face. She's tired and doesn't want to use whatever time she has left to argue with him. She makes the arrangements for everything that will happen after her death. Then, she prepares a final gift for Winston. From this day onward, she'll leave for the afterworld while he remains on Earth. They won't see each other again.

When I was young, my uncle and his family had died in a fire to save me, leaving behind only their three-year-old daughter. Thus, she became the most lovable member of our family. Later, she and I were involved in a car accident. As the blood and amniotic fluid mixed together, I clutched my husband's hand and begged him to save me and our children. However, he swatted my hand away and said impatiently, "Don't you realize Alice had hurt her bones?" My mother also scolded me, "Why are you still craving attention at a crucial moment like this? You are so cruel. Do you want Alice to be crippled for the rest of her life?" Just like that, I watched helplessly as they left with all the doctors, leaving me all alone. In the end, I died along with my adorable twin babies. When they heard the news, the ones who despised me most went crazy.

In my third year as a blind massage therapist, Henry Young took his employees on a company retreat. By sheer coincidence, he ended up booking me. When he saw me, he remained perfectly composed, so much so that even his breathing did not falter. I served him the same way I treated every other client. Then his phone rang. My hands paused for a moment as my own voice, young and girlish, came through his phone speaker. His employees immediately started teasing him. Henry simply explained in a gentle voice, “My wife recorded that when she was young and didn’t know any better.” Just as he was leaving, Henry suddenly turned around. “Anya Walt, I’ve never forgotten you. “Are you really going to keep living this hard life, with my child by your side?” I rubbed my fingertips again and again, but said nothing. It seemed he still had no idea. Back then, I kept our child and delivered the baby. But the baby was stillborn.

My wife's first love broke into our home and killed me. Yet my wife, one of the world's top defense attorneys, stood in court to secure his acquittal. She insisted that the entire incident was nothing more than an act I had staged myself—a desperate attempt to win her attention. She even appeared at my funeral. Pointing at my coffin with open disgust, she sneered, "You'd stoop this low just to get my sympathy? Stop pretending and come out right now to apologize to Marvin."

Three years after my death, Logan Grant finally married the woman he'd always loved. To get revenge on her behalf, he had my father thrown in prison, drove my mother to jump to her death, and demanded that I get on my knees and beg for mercy. The problem was, Logan, I'd been dead for years. All that remained of me was a pile of dry bones. When my death certificate was finally placed before him, he lost his mind. He dug up my remains, cradled my bones in his arms, and sobbed as he begged me to forgive him.

Two years after I die, my husband, Devin Pollard, kidnaps my best friend, Vanessa Harper's, son. He stands before her with the arrogance of a man in power. "Nicole is sick and urgently needs a kidney transplant. Tell me where Shirley is, and you'll get your son back. "She's perfectly healthy even after donating blood to Nicole for three years, so I'm sure giving up a kidney isn't an issue." My brother, Scott Weber, tags along. He gives Vanessa an annoyed look and says, "Shirley always has to make trouble. We wouldn't have sent her to a psychiatric hospital if she hadn't maniacally stabbed Nicole back then. "But now, it's bad enough that she refuses to show remorse, but she also runs away. "Tell her that if she comes back and donates her kidney to Nicole, I'll consider her my sister again." Looking at the way they arrogantly demand my kidney, Vanessa suddenly laughs. "You want Shirley's kidney, don't you? She's been dead for two years, so search through these ashes and see if you can dig up a kidney!"

Three years ago, I broke up with my girlfriend—Audrey Hades—while she was on the verge of going bankrupt. Immediately after, I got engaged to her biggest rival, Clara Sterling. Later, she turns into a celebrated and adored rising star of the business world. She allows people around her to mock and label me as a gold-digger who leeches off rich women. But what she doesn't know is that I've been dead for three years.

In the seventh year of my illness, I was finally so broke that I couldn't even scrape together enough money for my medication the next day. To raise the money, my best friend went back to the nightclub and started taking clients. By the time I found out and rushed over, I could already hear her suppressed, trembling voice coming from the private room. "Duncan, we can't do this! "Wendy will be devastated if she finds out!" The next second, I heard my boyfriend's low, ragged moan. "How else are you going to counteract the drug's effects?" My fingernails dug into my palms. The pain made my vision turn black. What hurt even more was that after it was over, Katie came to my bedside with tear-filled eyes and shoved a crumpled stack of bills into my hand. "Wendy, I made enough money working the club tonight to cover your medical expenses tomorrow." Duncan looked at Katie's scraped knees and bruised wrists. His eyes instantly turned bloodshot. The next second, he turned to face me. Those eyes that had once been filled with affection now held nothing but exhaustion and resentment. "Wendy, why won't you just die? "How much longer are you going to drag us down?" Right after cursing at me, he still used the money he'd earned by selling his blood to buy me hot oatmeal and painkillers. On the other hand, he could afford to gnaw on only half of a cold, hardened slice of bread. I watched as he carefully pulled a blanket over Katie. His movements were gentle as he tried not to wake her. An aching sensation spread from my chest through my entire body. It felt like countless knives slowly scraping away at me from the inside. Silent tears slipped onto my pillow. It didn't matter. I was going to die soon. Soon enough, I would stop being a burden to them.

On the fateful day my asthma struck, Lucas was with his first love, Ariana, blissfully unaware of the storm brewing on the horizon.  He clutched my life-saving medicine, a lifeline that would soon slip through his fingers.  As I lay trapped in the shadows, I witnessed his desperation, his frantic calls echoing in the void when he discovered the shocking news of my pregnancy.  In that moment, everything changed. From that day forward, he became the guardian at my grave, a silent testament to a love that transcended even death.

The day I found out that I was a fake heiress who had taken the place of the Jones family’s real daughter, my husband, Timothy Lane, was brought back as the true heir of the Lane family. The man who once said he loved me quickly abandoned both me and our daughter. At that very moment, the real heiress, Nancy Jones, decisively broke up with the fake heir of the Lane family and got together with Timothy. According to them, this was simply ‘making things right’. After losing everything in the blink of an eye, Micah Lane, the fake heir, kidnapped my daughter and me, forcing me to call Timothy for help. However, Timothy ignored our desperate pleas and mocked us. "You two are really something. Of course the fake heiress and fake heir go together. No wonder you make such a perfect pair of actors." On the other end of the line, I could occasionally hear Nancy's raspy, suggestive voice. As I listened to them, Micah stabbed me and my daughter to death. I died a tragic, painful death. After we died, my daughter and I were my husband's final assignment as a mortician before he left the job. The man who claimed he did not care about us fell apart the moment he saw our lifeless bodies. "Wasn't it all supposed to be a lie?! Why weren't you lying to me?! "Please, don't die! Don't leave me!"

I made a deal with the Devil. My soul, in exchange for seven days on earth after I died. The eleventh hour after my death happened to fall on our third wedding anniversary. The moment I walked through the door, he had just come home from another woman's place. He had an anniversary gift waiting for me. A set of sapphires. But the card tucked beside them bore another woman's name. I spotted a pale lavender hair tie in his hand. Once, I would have fought him over a hair tie like that, all the way from the front hall to the study. This time, I said nothing. It was him who froze instead, staring at me like I was a stranger. "You didn't used to be like this. I almost miss the way you used to fall apart over everything." He was right. The old me would have thrown a fit over something as small as him forgetting to cut my steak. But ever since the miscarriage, my heart had been dying by slow degrees. When I found out I was pregnant, I was overjoyed. I wanted him to be the first to know. But I couldn't reach him, no matter how many times I called. I lost the baby. I hemorrhaged. That very afternoon, while I lay on the operating table, a photo of him and that woman hit the entertainment headlines. He never even knew I had carried a child. Now there was only one last thing I wanted from him. To drive me up to the northern coast, and bury me with his own hands. But when he realized I had truly vanished from this world, he came undone.

Three years after I died, Stella, my wife, decided to divorce me and marry her dying ex. She stormed into my old house like she owned the place, forcing me to sign the divorce agreement. Mom told her the truth—I was already gone. Stella rolled her eyes. "Why's he still pretending? Harvey's dying. I just wanna be there for him. What's so wrong about that? If he won't come out, I'm done paying your medical bills." She thought threatening Mom would shake something loose. But what Stella didn't get? Mom had already stopped treatment. She was just hanging on to watch her crack.

After being diagnosed with cancer, I look at the last meager 1,000 dollars left in my bank account and have no choice but to buy myself the cheapest casket for later. My boyfriend, Aaron Olsen, rushes back from out of town upon hearing the news. Then, he sells his car, takes out a loan, and uses all of the savings that he accumulated from his Uber deliveries to send me back to the hospital. He holds my hand tightly while I'm in the hospital bed, looking at my skinny figure while choking down a sob. "Let's make a bet, okay? Viola, let's make a bet to see if you'll get any better. Even if you lose, I'll still stay with you! "After all, the casket you bought is big enough to fit both of us." I chuckle and call him a fool for even saying that. However, the heavens decided to have mercy on me, and I successfully beat cancer for the first time. Later on, Aaron proposes to me in the same year, and I accept it. However, on the day before we are supposed to register our marriage, I catch him cheating on me inside the casket that I prepared for myself. Aaron's first reaction upon being discovered is to use his body to shield the woman's body from me. Tears blur my vision, and I lower my head, letting out a bitter laugh. "How can you do this to me, Aaron Olsen?"