Nouvelles Melodramatic Romance & Romans Bias Awakening

Everyone says Zachary Suffold is hopelessly in love with Madison Fulmer. He's stayed by her side at her poorest, working three jobs a day to support her so she can focus on playing the piano. He's drunk himself into the hospital with a bleeding stomach just to secure performance opportunities for her. Over the last three years, he has poured his heart and soul into turning her into a renowned pianist. He's especially protective of her hands, the very hands she uses to play the piano. Once, a rival deliberately threw boiling water at Madison's hands. Without a second thought, Zachary threw himself in front of her, using his own body to shield her from the scalding water. Madison walked away unharmed, but Zachary suffered third-degree burns. Even now, an ugly scar remains on his arm. Later, someone from the orchestra asks Madison, "When do you plan to marry Zachary?" She merely frowns in displeasure. "When did I ever say I'd marry him? He's not even my boyfriend. He's just a loyal little simp who does whatever I tell him. He's not good enough to marry me." Little does Madison know, she's not good enough for him, either. After all, she's nothing but a stand-in.

The third time Queenie Stone meets Evan Sutherland's parents, she receives another message from her childhood friend, Joel Lodge. "I'm sorry, Mr. and Mrs. Sutherland. Something came up. I have to go," she says. Evan reaches out and catches her wrist, frowning. "You have to leave right now? My parents have been preparing for this all day. At least stay and finish dinner." Queenie sets her phone down in front of him. In her chat with Joel are four simple words—"The fog's rolling in". "This is my code with Joel," she explains. "He has depression. Whenever he starts spiraling, he sends me this. We agreed that no matter what I'm doing, I'll drop everything and go to him when I see those words. No exceptions." She sounds so serious, as if Joel will drop dead if she doesn't leave that very second. "Can't you wait until after dinner?" Evan asks. "At most, you'll just need to stay for two more hours." "Evan, Joel doesn't send that code lightly. If he has, it means he's at his limit. If I'm late and something happens to him, I'll never forgive myself. I'm sorry." Queenie turns to Evan's parents. "Mr. and Mrs. Sutherland, I need to head out. I'll come by another day to apologize properly." She leaves without another look back. The front door slams shut, making Evan's parents jump. "Did something happen?" his mother asks. "Queenie left in such a hurry." Evan stares at the untouched dishes on the table and forces a stiff smile. Over the last five years, Joel has sent Queenie that code over 700 times. She could be on a movie date with Evan, yet the moment Joel's message comes in, she'll walk out halfway through the film. On New Year's Eve, before the fireworks even go off, she'll ditch Evan to go to Joel. Even when Evan has a 104-degree fever and is lying in bed needing someone to care for him, she'll still rush over to Joel in the middle of the night.

On the day of our fifth anniversary, I got into a fight with my boyfriend, Tyrus Aberg. My best friend, Claire Dawson, sent me a screenshot. [Proxy Girlfriend: Thirty Days] Below it was Tyrus' reply. [Approved.] Every time we fought, Tyrus would deliberately have Claire act as his proxy girlfriend. He said I only dared to pick fights with him because I felt too secure in the relationship. He figured that as long as Claire got close to him and made me feel threatened, I would get jealous and tearfully beg him to reconcile. Three years ago, after one argument, he and Claire changed to matching couple profile pictures. "You've got one day to think it over. She'll be my proxy girlfriend for now. I'll only reconcile with you when you apologize." One day turned into three days. What started as switching profile pictures escalated into dates, hand-holding, and hugging. The last time I refused to cave for a whole week, he moved in with Claire. Claire spent the night wearing his shirt and showed up to parties with him as his girlfriend. He said, "You'll only feel jealous when Claire becomes my proxy girlfriend. "She's your best friend. No matter how close she and I get, it doesn't count as cheating." After this fight, he extended Claire's stint as his proxy girlfriend to a full month. A video call came in right after. "Lay-lay, it's your fifth anniversary today. "If you don't apologize soon, I'll be the one going home with Tyrus to meet his parents this Thanksgiving." On the other end, friends started laughing and counting down. They were all waiting for me to get jealous, cry, and beg Tyrus to reconcile, just like always. But I just left the three-person "Proxy Girlfriend" group chat. [A month is too short.] [Make it permanent this time.]

Over the weekend, my wife, Madeline Puth, invited her coworker, Kenneth Wilson, over for dinner. When the three of us reached the front door, Kenneth casually pressed his finger to the fingerprint lock. The door clicked open. I froze and stared at him. Madeline glanced at me and said as if it were the most natural thing in the world, "He's been here a few times before. He registered his fingerprint for convenience." Kenneth smiled at me. I returned his smile without a word. Then I walked inside, grabbed my bag, and headed straight for the door. Madeline hurried after me. "Where are you going?" I pulled the door open. "I'm clearly not the man of this house anymore, so of course I'm leaving."

By the time I'm done interviewing the final guest, the blister on my ankle has been rubbed raw, turning the spot into a bloody mess. Sadie Jensen, whom I've been secretly dating, appears with a plaster. However, she brushes right past me and walks up to Connor Lewis, my best friend. "You've been standing in those dress shoes for over ten hours now! Are you trying to destroy your feet on purpose? Don't come complaining to me about the pain later!" Laughter ripples through the crowd. "Ms. Jensen is so stubborn. If she's worried about him, she should just say it! Why's she hiding her concern behind her sharp tongue?" "When it gets cold, she brings him a jacket. When his blood sugar level drops, she brings him chocolate. The second he says he's tired, she immediately cancels everyone's overtime!" "I'll bet a month's worth of breakfast that she's hopelessly in love with Connor. I'm positive the two of them are secretly involved with each other." The entire department erupts in teasing hoots and whistles. Blushing, Connor waves them down. "Oh, you guys… Stop being so ridiculous!" He hands me the plaster. "My feet are fine. You can have this." I withdraw my outstretched hand and force out a weak smile. "It's fine. I don't need it." To avoid raising any suspicion about our relationship, Sadie shoves me aside. She pushes Connor down onto a chair before crouching down in front of him. Then she takes off his shoes and socks and, in one swift motion, puts the plaster on for him. By now, our colleagues are practically hollering with glee. As their cheery voices echoed all around me, I'm hit with a realization. All that talk about not wanting to arouse any suspicion? That's just a lie. The truth is, Sadie's heart belongs to someone else now.

After secretly dating Nicholas Jones for three years, I got tired of keeping our relationship hidden, so I decided to share a little something about us online. But before I could hit publish, my coworker leaned over my shoulder and squealed, "Oh my God! You're following those two, too?" I followed her finger to the hottest thread on our company's gossip forum. One glance was enough to make my heart ache. The couple everyone in the building was obsessed with? My boyfriend and my best friend. My coworker kept gushing, completely unaware. "They meet on the fourth-floor terrace every single day. He always brings her cigarettes and snacks. "And you know what's even cuter? They lean in close to light each other's cigarettes. When it snows, they even tuck their hands into each other's coat pockets! Everyone's betting on when they'll finally go public." She kept talking, but I barely heard a word. The ringing in my ears drowned out everything. I took a screenshot of the thread and sent it to our group chat, the one with just the three of us. Nicholas replied with a single sentence. "It's a misunderstanding." … That evening, I ran into Nicholas and my best friend by the elevators. I had spent three years pretending we were not together, but maybe it was finally time for everyone to know the truth. I reached for the scarf in Nicholas' hand, ready to make our relationship public. Yet, he casually moved out of my reach and wrapped it around my best friend's neck instead. A few people nearby started snickering, and suddenly everything clicked. I thought, 'Of course everyone thought they were dating. Neither of them had ever bothered to set the record straight.' The elevator doors opened. Nicholas held one open, frowning at me. "Come on. We'll talk on the way." I stepped back and smiled. "No. I'm not going with you." After three years of being his dirty little secret, I was done—and so were we.

Inside a banquet hall packed with high-profile guests, everyone is congratulating Benjamin Foster on becoming the male lead in a famous director's film despite having only recently entered the industry. Benedict Foster, who should have been the leading man, stands dejectedly in a corner of the terrace. At that moment, he makes up his mind. "System, I want to return to my original world." The system is shocked. [What? Your target, Mikaela Jepsen, has reached 99% in her affection level toward you. Once it reaches 100, you'll complete the mission and have your wish granted. You're only one point away. Don't you want to try a little harder?] Benedict shakes his head bitterly. "There's no need. I just want to go home." To persuade the director to replace Benedict with Benjamin as the male lead, Mikaela is willing to invest ten times the original amount. Now, she stays by Benjamin's side at every moment and stares at him with eyes full of affection. Some things are just not meant to be, no matter how much effort one puts in. That final point is something he can never earn, no matter what he does. The system sighs and laments, [What a shame. You're just one point away from changing your fate... Your application has been submitted. You'll be able to leave this world in a month. Think it over in the meantime. You can change your mind at any time.] "Okay. Thank you."

For ten years, he remained tangled up with her, and everyone in their circle laughed at him for being her forever backup plan. She had once said, “The housekeeper’s son? He’s fun to mess around with, but marry him? Not a chance.” No one noticed him standing just outside the door. With his fists clenched and his eyes burning red, he turned and walked away. That very day, he married someone else.

My girlfriend used to answer every call I made. Then her first love came back to town. Since then, she’d begun ignoring my calls. The first time, she rolled out a red carpet at the airport to welcome that man home. With cameras flashing around her, she glanced at my name on her phone and let it ring. The second time, she was throwing him a birthday party while I sat alone at the restaurant where we'd agreed to meet. I waited until the staff locked up for the night. And then came the hundredth call. Acute appendicitis had left me in so much pain I could barely stay conscious, but I managed to dial her number one last time. All I heard was the same automated message: "The number you dailed is busy now..." I later learned she'd been celebrating a major contract win with him at a restaurant overlooking the city. He even posted a picture of them together. "Thanks for making me your top priority," his caption read. Someone commented, "You two are practically a couple already. When are you making it official?" He replied with a blushing emoji. By the time she reached the hospital, my surgery was over. She smelled of another man's tobacco smoke. "Sorry. I couldn't get away from the business dinner," she told me. "You know he just moved back. He needs my help getting established. I promise it won't happen again." The anesthesia hadn't fully worn off, but somehow I managed a polite smile. "Okay," I said. Don't worry. There won't be a next time. Not for us.

When Stella Everette's junior went looking for death again, I knew she would come to peel off my skin next. It had been this way for a hundred years. Her beloved, Louie Linfield, kept throwing himself into the demon cave, trying to die for the lover he had lost there. Every time, Stella saved him and used the healthy skin from my body to replace his flesh that was burned away by the primordial flames. The skin on my body had been replaced repeatedly. There wasn't a single patch of untouched skin left. Only my face still looked somewhat like it had before. But this time, Louie burned half his face. When Stella locked me in the demon realm's prison and used torture tools to tear the skin from my entire face, there wasn't a trace of warmth in her eyes. "Lucian, Louie is my mentor's only blood relative left, and he once saved my life. You're my husband. Isn't it only right for you to help me?" She hurried away with my blood-soaked skin, leaving me alone in the lightless prison. She had forgotten that I had lost all my demonic power. I could no longer grow new skin, and I couldn't withstand the corrosive demonic energy in this place. The freezing demonic energy pierced through my entire body, tearing into what little flesh I had left. With the last bit of strength I had, I took the beaded bracelet from my wrist and pressed it against my chest. Whispering, I called out to my mentor, "I want to go home."

Three days after my boyfriend’s adopted sister died a tragic death, I clutched a so-called "hush money" check in my hand and became an accomplice in everyone’s eyes. My boyfriend once knelt in the pouring rain to beg me, and his sister’s five-year-old daughter cried and begged me to testify, but I refused them both. Ten years later, when I was dying of cancer, my boyfriend had become a billionaire. The first thing he did upon returning to the country was to forcibly extract my memories, even though I would suffer endless pain. "Elara, you vain, heartless monster! Lily and I must have been blind to ever treat you like family!" "Lily has been dead for ten years, and you’ve been walking free with that dirty money the whole time!" "Today, I’m going to find out exactly who paid you off—the person you protected just for money!" My boyfriend held a press conference to publicly crucify me for my crimes. But after seeing the whole truth, he went completely insane.

My boyfriend returned from his volunteer teacher post with a quiet girl. She wore bleached clothes and always spoke timidly, calling my boyfriend's name intimately. Since then, everything in our house had an extra copy for her. Winona Chaucer had everything I had and didn't have. I could put up with that, but then came the day of the proposal. My boyfriend knelt on one knee and pulled out a ring box with two rings inside. He looked at me and softened his voice to the point I thought he was convincing a child to accept an unreasonable request. "Winona said she wanted one too. Don't take it to heart, alright? Will you marry me, Liliana Davis" I looked at the identical diamond rings but took neither of them. Chris Samson, my boyfriend, had no idea that the one thing I couldn't stand was sharing anything with someone else, not even the person who was supposed to stand by my side for the rest of my life.

After my family went bankrupt, my wife, Claire Finley, was drowned in the river by debt collectors. To pay off our debts, I took on a job at an underground casino as a human punching bag. Every punch I took earned me 50 bucks. Then, one day, I'm about to deliver drinks to a private room. Through the crack in the door, I see Claire—supposedly dead—sitting in the seat of honor, leisurely sipping a glass of fine red wine. "It's been over three years since I last saw Nathan. I wonder how he's doing." Dad, dressed in a sharp suit despite our family's so-called bankruptcy, sighs. "He's probably been hiding away, grieving for a few years. Once he gets over it, he can always find someone else. Whatever happens, you and Victor will get to live in peace, so long as he believes you're dead." Victor Gray is Dad's son with his first love. A glance around the private room reveals nothing but familiar faces. My once-close friends are all there, along with the very people who have supposedly killed Claire. So, everything has been a setup from the start. The only thing that has been real is the hell I've endured over the past three years. Balancing 20 bottles of beer in my arms, I smile and shake my head. Once I save up 80 dollars for an urn, they can finally be free of me.

Caroline Reed is sleeping with her childhood friend, Sheldon Graham, for the 999th time, and she's as passionate as ever. The next morning, Sheldon is covered in scratches and love bites. Every time he moves, he's reminded of the passion and the wildness of the night before. The tension from the night before lingers. Caroline rests against him, her slender fingers tracing circles over his firm chest. "Wear something nice tomorrow. You're coming home with me," she says casually. Sheldon looks up in shock, hope rising in his voice as he asks, "Are you… finally going to tell everyone about us?" Caroline raises an eyebrow and shoots him a sidelong glance. "Tell them what? I've got a date set up at home tomorrow. I need you there so things don't get awkward for him."

Someone uses AI to put my face in a pornographic video, and it gets over 20 million views. The day I decide to take legal action, everyone close to me tries to stop me. My childhood friend, Vivian Clark, corners me at the door, warning that suing will only make people believe the video is real. My best friend, Mike Crain, snatches the evidence out of my hands and throws it in the trash, insisting the people behind it are overseas, and the police will never track them down. Even my older brother, Graham Campbell, calls, telling me to think about our parents' health and stop disgracing the family. I take a deep breath. I finally manage to get away and head straight to my girlfriend Wanda Beckham's apartment. She's a lawyer. If anyone will help me clear my name, it's her. But when I walk in, I find her curled up on the couch in the arms of her childhood friend, Everett Patterson. He's casually admitting that he's the one who made the video, brushing it off as a mistake with the AI software. Wanda just laughs and hands him a beer. Vivian and Mike are there too, sipping their drinks as they joke about how Everett should have been the one dating Wanda all along. They say I've been standing in his way for years and had it coming. I freeze in the doorway. The people who ruined my life were right there beside me all along—and I was blind to it.

Elvira Skye is the idol of every pilot. At 16, she single-handedly rescues hostages. At 25, she takes command of the Northern Air Base. Across tens of thousands of missions, she never makes a single mistake. She is the greatest flight commander of the century. She is different from everyone else. In her world, duty always comes first, and there's no place for personal feelings. To follow in her footsteps, Lance Archer spends five years scaling hundred-meter cliffs with his bare hands and crossing tightropes stretched across two oceans. He graduates top of his class from the flight academy and earns a place at the Northern Air Base. Another five years of evaluations, and he will become an ace pilot—and also Elvira's sole flight partner. But all three missions he undertakes over those five years end in disaster. In the first, he bleeds from every orifice. In the second, his entire family is brutally slaughtered in retaliation. In the third, he suffers multiple comminuted fractures. Each incident is deliberate. Lance tracks down the mastermind behind them, only to overhear Elvira say, "Andre Mosley just couldn't accept that I'm going to marry Lance, so I buried the whole matter. There's no need to ruin Andre's life over such trivial matters." Lance laughs, then leaves behind three things that will haunt her with regret for the rest of her life.

My wife, Carla Clayton, suddenly develops a serious illness, so I rush to the hospital to donate a kidney to her. But the anesthesia wears off, and I hear Carla tell the nurse, Betty Farrell, to throw the kidney they've removed from me into the trash can after surgery. Unable to bear watching this, Betty says, "Carla, I know your husband, Trevor Draper, refused to throw the match and surrender the championship title back then. "And that drove your first love, Ivan Huston, to jump off a building, leaving him partially paralyzed. But surely you wouldn't go so far as to betray Trevor's love for you just to get back at him, would you?" Carla lets out a sigh. "Trevor was the one who wronged Ivan first, and I promised Ivan I would get justice for him 99 times." "But aren't you afraid Trevor will divorce you if you keep doing this?" "As long as none of you tells him, he won't find out. There are only three times left anyway. Once I've repaid this debt, I'll spend the rest of my life treating Trevor well to make it up to him." My heart turns ice-cold. Since Carla loves Ivan so much, I'll walk away and let them have each other.

Gavin Prescott always said he hated rushed, disposable relationships. So ours had to follow a strict progress chart. Three months into dating, I wanted to hold his hand. He pointed to the chart and told me not to skip ahead. I agreed. For three years, I followed every rule. Then someone broke into my apartment, and I called him for help. He was silent for a long time before answering. "According to the chart, I'm not supposed to enter your home for another hour. Just hang on until then." He hung up. The intruder broke into my bedroom, realized I was alone, and tried to assault me. I fought him with everything I had. An hour later, Gavin finally arrived with the police. He ignored my injuries. His eyes went straight to my torn, disheveled clothes. "Don't do that. We're not at that stage yet. Hurry up and get dressed." I couldn't stop shaking. I screamed at him. "I was nearly assaulted, and you're worried about my clothes?" He looked at me without a trace of emotion. "All I know is that I can't break the boundaries I'm supposed to keep." Then his childhood friend, Sylvie Locke, appeared behind him. She slipped an arm around his and teased him with a smile. "By your rules, doesn't me holding on to you count as skipping a stage?" Gavin didn't push her away. He even shifted closer to make it easier for her to hold him. "That's different. We don't have a progress chart." Only then did I understand: that precious chart had never applied to anyone but me. I booked a flight home for the next day without hesitation. I was done with his rules. As far as I was concerned, our love had reached zero.

When my wife, Hazel Zimmerman, is diagnosed with a terminal disease, she insists on divorcing me just to set me free. I refuse to do so. Instead, I travel all over the world to seek doctors and treatment remedies in hopes of finding Hazel a cure. I keep going at it until I start vomiting blood from exhaustion. But as soon as I reach home, I overhear Hazel bragging to her best friend smugly. "Brandon, that idiot, actually thinks that I really have cancer! I just wanted to use this excuse to divorce him so I could go on a world trip with Nathan. "Once I've had my fun, I'll claim that I'm cured of my disease. Then, I'll remarry Brandon again." "Do you really think Brandon will believe your excuse?" the best friend asks. Hazel just sneers in disdain. "That idiot loves me so much that he can't live without me. Ever since he found out that I have cancer, he's been crying his eyes out. What can he tell, anyway?" When Hazel brings up divorce once again, I don't hesitate to accept it this time.

Rhys Lockhart, a brash and unruly trust-fund heir, comes back home from abroad and discovers he's already been married off without his consent. His bride is Elara Waverly, the head of Waverly Corp, and a full eight years older than him. Rhys naturally wants no part of it. So, when he hears she's the disciplined, immaculate type with a serious thing about cleanliness, he makes a point of it. He shows up in ripped streetwear and a backward baseball cap, a row of silver studs lining his ear. His parents turn red with embarrassment and move to apologize, but Elara simply leans forward with quiet composure, her slender fingers gently steadying them. Her voice is cool and clear. "This arrangement already asks too much of Mr. Lockhart. If anyone should be apologizing, it's me." Rhys freezes, and he slowly lifts his head. Beneath the cool detachment in her gaze, her amber eyes are filled with warmth.