Bias Romance Short Stories & Awakening Novels

Three hours before our wedding, I found out Denise Benson had picked up the wrong suit for me. Instead of the custom white tuxedo with intricate gold embroidery, she had brought home a plain gray janitor's uniform. When I pointed out the mistake, she was busy adjusting my best friend Eric Jones's bow tie. She barely glanced in my direction. "I grabbed the wrong one. It's too late to do anything about it now, so just wear it." I had heard some version of that excuse countless times over the past eight years. When I had gastritis, she brought me the wrong medication, yet somehow remembered exactly what Eric needed for his cough. On our third anniversary trip, she claimed she had mixed up our IDs and ended up booking a romantic suite for herself and Eric. At our engagement party, she somehow mixed up our families and introduced Eric's parents as her future in-laws instead of mine. I had had enough of her so-called mix-ups. This time, I wanted to make absolutely sure nothing went wrong. I spent almost a whole year working on my wedding suit, carefully choosing every detail of the design. The gold embroidery was especially meaningful, with patterns that represented different moments in our relationship. I sent Denise countless photos of the finished suit, making sure she knew exactly what it looked like. Even when she went to pick it up, I stayed on the phone with her, going over the details one last time. And somehow, she still brought back the wrong thing. She had no trouble picking up Eric's suit, which was almost identical to mine except for the embroidery. Yet when it came to my outfit, she couldn't even get the color right. She brought me a janitor's uniform, for God's sake. Denise caught me looking at Eric's suit and immediately frowned. "Don't start. It's just a wedding ceremony. Who cares what you're wearing?" As usual, she expected me to let it go and pretend nothing had happened. But after eight years of putting up with her excuses, I was done. I reached into my pocket, pulled out the engagement ring Denise had given me, and tossed it to Eric. "You're right. It's just a ceremony. Guess it doesn't matter who you marry, either."

Whenever the three of us—me, Darius Shaffer, and Sonya Berger—are together, everything I say always gets ignored outright. At first, I just assumed that they simply hadn't heard me. After all, I've been in a relationship with Darius for seven years, and Sonya has been my childhood best friend for 18 years. But today, I speak up as I usually do and ask, "How about we go to Mistland for a trip during the holidays?" They keep their heads down and continue scrolling through their phones. Neither of them acknowledges me. Moments later, Sonya holds up her phone and grins. "Look at this Mistland grill! It's their signature dish. It looks so delicious!" Darius looks up immediately and jumps into the conversation. They begin chatting animatedly. I try to interject and ask again, "So, shall we all go to Mistland together?" Still, nobody pays me any mind. I end up just listening to their conversation in silence. Yesterday, I sighed and said, "I'm thinking of quitting my job. I'm so exhausted and burned out." However, neither of them even looked up at me or acknowledged what I said. They just continued tapping away on their phones. And the day before that, Sonya pouted and said, "My skin looks terrible. I'm so damn upset." But Darius immediately leaned in toward her, saying, "Nonsense! You look beautiful!" Then, they launched into an enthusiastic discussion about skincare. I tried asking them if they wanted to grab a meal together the next day, but again, I was met with complete indifference. Yet, when I walked into the restaurant alone the next day, I saw them having lunch together just a few tables away. Last week, Darius sent a movie trailer into our group chat, and Sonya immediately replied, "I wanna watch this movie!" I also replied, "Me too. Let's go!" As always, nobody replied. When I asked Darius about it later, he told me that they had already watched it together. So, as it turned out, they had heard me. They simply didn't want to pay me any heed. This time, I don't act out or throw a tantrum. I don't even question any of them on the spot. Instead, I shift my gaze away and keep myself company. On the day I resign from my company, Darius finally pays me some attention, something he rarely ever does. He says, "Rennie, my mom has been asking us to set a wedding date. Sonya was asking me about it earlier too. Why didn't you say anything?" I stand up and reply with only four lines. "You guys continue chatting. Just ignore me. Also, we're breaking up. Good riddance."

Kelly and I had been in a long-distance relationship for three years. After working overtime for a month to make time so I could see her, she could not be reached. I waited alone in that unfamiliar place for ten whole hours before I finally got a reply from her. My best friend, Hayden, called me and said gleefully, "Zachary, surprise! I've already explored Stranton for you. It's amazing. Kelly is a great tour guide!" He excitedly shared his experiences, as if he had not noticed the 30 missed calls I left on Kelly's phone. I listened quietly until he mentioned feeling cold. Kelly took the phone and said bluntly, "I'll take him back to the hotel first. Give us a minute." After she finished speaking, I asked, "Do you know how long I've been waiting?" Kelly paused, her tone turning cold. "He's your friend. Are you really going to make a fuss out of this?" The blatant rebuke completely extinguished my desire to reply. After hanging up, my ride back to Jazzville arrived. The driver glanced at me and could not help but say, "Young man, it's the middle of the night. This area is quite dangerous. What urgent matter kept you waiting until now?" Looking at my shoes, which had been soaked by the snow, I softly replied, "It was urgent at the time." Then, I smiled and continued, "But not anymore."

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 engagement, my girlfriend, Alessia Pratt, was nowhere to be found. My mom, Lizzie Spencer, looked more and more displeased. I finally stepped out to call Alessia. As I passed a private dining room, I caught a glimpse of her through the door, which hadn't been fully closed. She was having dinner with her first love, Amos Farrell, and his family. Amos's hand slid onto her waist, and he leaned in until his head was against her ear. They looked incredibly intimate. Mom had come out looking for me, and she saw it too. She gave a cold snort. "You treat her like a treasure. You treated her like a treasure and were even willing to give her a share of our family's fortune, worth tens of millions of dollars. And what do you get for it?" I sighed, finally giving up on her for good. "If she doesn't care about it, there's no reason for me to keep throwing it at her."

I've been in a long-distance relationship with Xavier Harrington for four years. Every time we meet up with each other, the first thing he says to me is, "You've gotten fatter… and shorter." When my friend finds out about it, she jokes to me, "Maybe he has another girlfriend who's taller and thinner than you." It's supposed to be a joke, and yet I take it seriously. It explains why I've decided to travel a span of 1,800 miles just to seek Xavier out at the city he's stationed to. But that's when I accidentally stumble upon Xavier going on a stroll with a young woman side by side. I trail behind them, only to see them going to a cafe that's filled with people. There, they line up so that they can snap commemorative photos. However, whenever Xavier's hanging out with me, he often turns my suggestions down impatiently. To him, lining up at such places is a waste of time. Later on, Xavier and the woman secure a table in a restaurant. There, Xavier pulls out a chair for her before he starts setting out the cutlery for her. Even when the food is served, he will subconsciously push the woman's favorite dish in her direction. For the first time ever in our relationship of eight years, I find out that Xavier can be caring when he feels like it. I watch as Xavier chats animatedly with the woman at the table. He shares everything with her, be it the irritating experiences at work or the funny and interesting incidents that have happened to him so far. Then, I lower my head to look at the short text messages Xavier has sent to me in the past. "Time for work. It's lunch time. I'm about to nap." Suddenly, I find my relationship with Xavier extremely boring, so I dig out the invitation sent by my company regarding their outstation request and tap on it. After all, I no longer want anything to do with this flawed relationship anymore.

A week after I gave birth via C-section, Mark Whitman invited his friends over to celebrate the birth of our son. The crowd was boisterous—more than a dozen people. Not one of them bothered to remove their dirty shoes. The wooden floor was soon covered in muddy footprints. Mark came into the room and, without a hint of concern, ordered me out of bed. "Everyone's waiting outside. Don't just hide here and rest—you're embarrassing me in front of our guests." I had no choice but to push through the pain, forcing my body to prepare a huge meal for the large crowd, all on my own. When I carried the final bowl of steaming soup to the table, Lily Hoyte—whether intentionally or not—jabbed her hand against the wound on my abdomen. My hand trembled from the sudden pain, and the bowl slipped slightly, spilling the hot soup onto Lily's shoes. Mark's face darkened instantly. "What the heck did you do, Cammy? Lily rushed here right after her plane landed from overseas to see our son, and this is how you treat her?" The crowd quickly chimed in. "Come on, Cammy, no need to be so petty." "Mark and Lily grew up together. If there was really something between them, do you think you'd even be here now?" "Do you even know how much those shoes cost? They're limited edition—easily over ten thousand dollars. And you just ruined them." Lily stood up awkwardly, her eyes misting with tears. "If Cammy doesn't like me," she said softly, "then I'll leave. I don't want to be a bother." But Mark grabbed her hand in an exaggerated display of protection, his voice harsh as he turned to me. "Wipe Lily's shoes clean. Right now." His partiality for Lily made something sharp twist in my chest. My lips quivered as I fought back tears. "The wound on my stomach hasn't healed yet. I can't bend over." At that, his expression grew colder. "Don't use childbirth as an excuse. If you can't bend over, then kneel and wipe them. And if you won't, get out of my house!"

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.

At one in the morning, my husband Grayson's phone lit up. A message from Leah popped up on the screen: [I sprained my ankle during rehearsal. It hurts so bad I can't sleep. Can you come hold me?] Watching Grayson throw on his clothes, I leaned back against the headboard and nearly laughed out loud. She was pouting in the middle of the night and making a married man drive halfway across Seattle to take care of her. For a twenty-two-year-old dance academy intern, she really wasn't very considerate. At least nowhere near as thoughtful as a certain sports science major I knew. That evening, Nolan had just gotten his professional motorcycle racing license and ridden his new bike across the bay to deliver the silver-gray heels I needed for tomorrow's board meeting right to my office building. Before he left, he'd pinned me between the car door and his chest in the parking garage and kissed me until my knees went weak.

After the family exchange program ended, the poor girl I swapped lives with became my parents' adopted daughter. Sophie Miller was everything I wasn't—soft-spoken, obedient, and endlessly grateful. She knew how to smile, say the right things, and make my parents feel needed. So, little by little, they began favoring her. My parents criticized me for being too cold, too stubborn, too independent. They gave Sophie the love, patience, and affection I had spent seventeen years believing were mine. Even my boyfriend, Ethan, took her side. He pitied her humble background and constantly overlooked me to make her feel better. I fought for years. I believed seventeen years of shared history meant they would not erase me so easily. Then I saw my parents' revised will. Sophie would inherit everything, the entire estate and controlling interest in Harrington Group. They were planning a wedding for Sophie and Ethan and wanted me to attend as the sister. After the fight, I drove away alone. Rain blinded me, and I died in a pileup near the Brooklyn Bridge. When I opened my eyes again, it was the day the exchange program ended. My parents sat across from me, telling me they planned to become Sophie's guardians. In my first life, I fought to keep her out. This time, I said nothing against it.

Damon Westbrook was kidnapped and held in the mountains for three months, subjected to every kind of humiliation. Three hellish months ground away every bit of fight he had. After his rescue, he developed severe PTSD. He hurt himself. He tried to end his life. Nightmares came every night. Through it all, Eleanor Carrington never left his side, holding him and comforting him again and again. "Damon, I'll always be here. When you're better, we'll get married." To help him heal, Eleanor brought back Marcus Keane, a former upperclassman of hers in college, who was finishing his doctorate in psychology overseas. The first time Damon met Marcus, he seemed calm and gentle, considerate in every way. "Don't be afraid. Eleanor and I will make sure you recover completely." Damon was deeply grateful. He cooperated with every treatment. Even when the sessions left him wishing he were dead, he gritted his teeth and endured. He believed everyone was doing everything they could to save him. Until tonight. The sliding glass door to the balcony hadn't closed all the way, and two low voices carried clearly to him. Eleanor and Marcus. Marcus took out a cigarette, his tone light. "When my research hit a dead end, I had no choice but to come to you for help. I never expected—" Eleanor turned her back to the wind and lit it for him. "Once the experiment is done, your dissertation is guaranteed to win the top international award." Marcus exhaled a stream of smoke and chuckled. "I only said in passing that a real case would be nice. I never thought you'd arrange a kidnapping yourself—let alone the kidnapping of the man you're about to marry."

On the day our couple channel hit thirty million followers, the milestone video was supposed to be my official debut on camera. I woke up at five in the morning to do my makeup and tried on a dozen different dresses. However, right before the cameras rolled, Julian stopped me. "Willow, let's have Evangeline do it instead. She's just more camera-ready. The fans will love her." Evangeline was my best friend. I stood frozen for a long time, but in the end, I simply nodded. From that day on, Julian and Evangeline played a romantic couple on screen for three years. I stood behind the lens, writing their scripts, setting up their lighting, and editing every single frame. I watched the comment section explode day after day. [They look so deeply in love! My favorite ship ever!] And I watched Julian hold Evangeline's hand with more and more ease. Until the night of our three-year anniversary stream, when the host asked them a question live on camera. "When was the exact moment you two felt the strongest spark for each other?" Julian and Evangeline smiled in perfect sync. "The very first day we shot together on camera." In an instant, the live stream chat erupted into wild cheers and screams. Sitting in the dark corner of the studio behind the control monitor, my heart sank. They had spent three years pretending to be in love, and I was the only fool who treated it like an act. As soon as the broadcast wrapped, I logged into the channel dashboard and revoked all my admin access. Then, I opened an email invitation for an overseas film project I had received two weeks ago and accepted it. From now on, I was done writing their love story.

While strolling around the mall, I bend down to tie my shoelaces. When I lift my head again, my boyfriend, Lucas Carter, and my best friend, Kimberly Wendell, are already over 30 feet away. Just as I am about to catch up with them, I notice that the spot that should've been mine is slowly vanishing as the two walk closer and closer. Eventually, they are shoulder to shoulder as they talk about topics that I can't join in on. It's as though a third person was never there. During our university years, Lucas and Kimberly were known as the the school’s most promising “twin stars”. This continued even after we graduated, with them becoming the youngest chief physicians at the hospital. Meanwhile, no matter how hard I work, I can only trail behind them as an ordinary nurse. Lucas is always patting my head, saying, "You're cute, even when you're a little slow sometimes." Then he turns around and works seamlessly with Kimberly to perform one complex surgery after another. As I stare at their backs, I suddenly feel utterly exhausted. I no longer want to continue down this road, forever chasing after Lucas.

My girlfriend, Quinn Simmons, my best friend, Seth Johnson, and I were one the outs. When I apologized to Quinn, she just fingered her nails. Then I tried to talk to Seth. He scrolled through his phone and turned a deaf ear to me. I was stuck between a rock and a hard place. I begged for their forgiveness, but my efforts were fruitless. In high school, Quinn and Seth asked me which electives I intended to take. Seth gave me the cold shoulder for a whole month after I chose the same electives as Quinn. Seth threw the 20 apology letters that I wrote for him into the trash, saying, "I don't really care. You two are a couple. I'm not forcing you to choose the same electives with me." During our university days, both Quinn and Seth rented places off campus and asked me to move in with them. When I chose Seth, Quinn chased me out of her place with a frosty expression, saying, “Go find your new roommate. Just leave me alone.” Quinn's disregard lasted two months. I kept chasing after her, trying to coax her the whole time. One day, I accidentally tumbled down the stairs. My whole body shook as I clutched my injured leg, but Quinn didn’t even spare me a single glance. She just stepped over me. Ten minutes ago, we were choosing a movie to watch. Quinn wanted to watch a sci-fi film, while Seth wanted to watch a romance movie. They asked me to choose again. In the end, after I chose a comedy, they spent the entire time ignoring me and chatting among themselves. "I want to watch a romance movie," Seth said while looking at Quinn. "It's fine if you don't." Quinn scoffed. "Can you watch something logical for once? What's so interesting about a romance movie anyway?" As Seth rolled his eyes, a flash of panic flickered across Quinn's eyes. She sighed and said, "Fine. We'll watch whatever you want to watch." I stood rooted to the spot, clutching the three tickets for the comedy movie. Suddenly, I didn't feel like watching the movie anymore.

Dorian Keller hated hassle more than anything—so much that he kept a "standard schedule." Every gift was bought in bulk and shipped to arrive on the birthday itself. We always went to the same date spot. Trying a new restaurant took a written request a month in advance. Even intimacy had an alarm set for it. "Life's about keeping things simple. Let's not make trouble for each other." For seven years, I thought he was like that with everyone. Then, at a get-together with friends, the server brought out a plate of pomegranate. He took it and peeled it seed by seed into a glass bowl, picking away every bit of white pith. I was sitting right next to him. I reached for it. He paused and looked at me. Then he set the bowl in front of Arabella Crane. The girl who used to bully me. In high school, she tore up my homework, poured glue on my chair, and locked me in a bathroom through an entire class. Back then, Dorian pointed in her face and told her she'd die a miserable death. Now he sat beside me, slid the only bowl of pomegranate over to her, and said softly, "Slow down." I pulled my hand back. In that moment, I didn't want to stay there a second longer. And I didn't want him anymore either.

Conan Hamilton's true love secretly wears my wedding gown. She's pregnant, and she slips and falls when we argue. After being taken to the hospital, she's told that she'll never have another child. Conan is furious. He banishes me abroad to be a nun. A year later, he comes to the nunnery to take me home. However, all he finds is that I've long since broken free. I even have a child in my arms. His eyes are red as he snarls, "Are you trying to use the child to force me to marry you? Or do you just want to mock Queenie for not being able to bear children anymore?" He has no idea that the child isn't his. He also doesn't know that I'm about to marry someone else.

I have intermittent aphasia. Whenever I get too emotional, I lose the ability to speak. Everyone mocks me for being mute, but my best friend and stepbrother, Julian Cadwell, and my childhood sweetheart, Vivian Wilder, are the only ones who stand up for me. When I confess my feelings to Vivian, Julian reads the love letter aloud on my behalf. On the day I propose, it is Julian who asks her for me. I thought they understood me best. When we start planning the wedding, I want a traditional ceremony, but Julian changes that plan because, in his words, "Modern ceremonies are more romantic." I want our new home to be in the heart of the city. But before I can say anything, Julian says, "Anton doesn't like the hustle and bustle. The suburbs are just right." Just like that, Vivian immediately decides on a new house in the suburbs. On the day of the wedding, I change into my suit and walk out, only to find the house completely empty. I ask about the situation in our family's group chat. Then, I get a video call almost instantly. Everyone is already at the wedding venue. Vivian tells me, "Anton, you don't need to come to the wedding. Julian will go through the motions in your place." My mother says, "Anton, a wedding is a big occasion. What if you can't speak when the time comes? Our family can't afford the embarrassment!" Julian says with a smile, "Anton, the wedding is just a formality. It doesn't matter who the groom is. I'm also Mom's son." For the first time in years, I speak in front of everyone. "You two can get married. I'm done."

Lucas Ashton and I have secretly dated for five years. We're preparing to announce our relationship during a business dinner. However, he doesn't mention a word of it during the dinner. Instead, he leans close to me and whispers half-jokingly, "I'm sick of sleeping with you and want to call it quits. Shall we not disclose our relationship?" I smile and nod. Then, I point at Emily Lane, his first love. "This is Lucas' girlfriend." In my past life, I pleaded with him not to leave me. All that got me was torment and death.

The royal family once helped the Foxkin of Moonveil. For generations, the Foxkin had sent their youngest daughters to the royal palace to repay that debt. Each prince had a Foxkin companion who looked after him and kept him safe. My elder brother, Alaric Ashbourne, had a Foxkin who fought fiercely by his side on the frontier for years. In the end, they fell in love and married. My Foxkin was named Evelina Wrenwood. I felt sorry for her. She had left her home and would never be able to return to her clan, so I never restricted her freedom. I always gave her the finest things first, never expecting anything in return. People said I spoiled her rotten, but I pretended not to hear them. Yet Evelina ignored all I did for her and kept urging me to put brotherly love first and entrust Alaric with greater authority. That day, I personally brought her a basket of summer peaches from the southern duchies. But when I stepped out of her room, I saw a swarm of tiny words floating in midair. [That's what you get for chasing a woman who doesn't want you. You end up with nothing!] [Why force Evelina to be yours? Her heart belongs to Prince Alaric. Doesn't he get it?] [She's doing everything she can to put Prince Alaric on the throne. Cassian, the crown prince, is just a fool!]

Dominic Fletcher and Sabine Mercer were high-society rivals known throughout the entire city for their bitter feuds. Yet by a twist of fate, the former was my childhood sweetheart and fiancé, while the latter was my best friend. Every time they crossed paths, teeth flared and claws came out. Now that I was pregnant, the two were locked in a relentless shouting match over who the baby would later address first. Hoping to ease the tension, I organized a road trip for the holiday weekend. Never did I imagine we would run into a violent landslide along the way. At the threshold of life and death, staring down at me as I lay pooled in my own blood, Dominic turned to scoop Sabine, who was suffering nothing more than a scraped elbow, into his arms. Just then, a massive boulder was about to crush down on me. He suddenly bolted back, wrapping his arms around me in a desperate, suffocating embrace. “The wedding we miss... I'll make it up to you in the next life.” I opened my eyes again to find myself alive again. I could hear the frantic bickering echoing clearly from outside the door. “You were willing to die alongside Elaine. Why didn’t you save her first? “Her baby’s gone! How on earth am I supposed to explain…” Dominic’s voice cut through, a restrained, low growl. “I couldn’t just stand there and watch the woman I love die, could I? “You know full well how indebted I feel...” I froze on the bed, half my body turning numb. Years ago, my father was hit by a truck and knocked off a cliff in an attempt to save Dominic’s life. I had always interpreted the look in Dominic’s eyes as affection, never realizing it was nothing more than guilt. Turned out I had been the villain breaking up the tragic lovers all along. It was time to step aside.