Bias Romance Short Stories & Awakening Novels

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!"

Because of her first love's piano competition, my fiancee, Ashley Blake, postpones our wedding for the 17th time seven years into our relationship. On the eve of the competition, she chops off my ring finger just because Marc Tyson claims I injured his hand and ruined his ability to compete. The pain of losing my finger leaves me crying in agony, but she simply holds him in her arms and stares me down with indifferent eyes. She says, "Stop pretending, Troy Clinton. You're a grown man. What's all this fuss over losing a finger? Besides, you merely lost one finger. Marc has lost the dream he spent his whole life chasing! This is what you owe him." Her cruel words shatter my heart into tiny pieces. She has forgotten that my fingers are also meant to dance across piano keys. "The wedding next week is postponed," she says dismissively while covering Marc's reddened fingers. She adds, "This has nothing to do with Marc. It's simply because you can't wear a wedding ring with a missing finger anyway." Clutching my bleeding hand, I finally wake up to reality. From this moment onwards, we owe each other nothing.

I was easy to fool. I believed almost everything that people said. During the worst year of my life, a girl in the grade above me tricked me out of my entire living allowance. Juno Halloran split hers with me and helped me get by. She was the only person who had never lied to me. "It's not that you're dumb. Other people are just rotten," she told me. "Stop trusting them. Trust me instead." Then, 1 hour before I was supposed to walk into my grad school entrance exam, she texted me. [I was in a car accident. I'm at the hospital. Get here now.] I rushed to the hospital and found her and her best friend, Brent Ostrow, sitting in the convenience store downstairs, eating nachos. Brent laughed so hard he slapped his thigh. "See? I told you he'd fall for it. One text and he ditches his exam to come running." Juno held a chip to his mouth. "Fine, a bet is a bet. I'll take you to Starfall Park today." I stared at them in disbelief. Juno pulled out a napkin and wiped the sweat from my face. "You're about to graduate, and the world is a nasty place. Consider this lesson number one." My voice shook. "Today's my grad school exam!" Brent rolled his eyes. "Okay, okay, Cooper's about to cry. We'd better get him back before he flunks and blames us for it." When she saw my eyes reddening, Juno panicked too. She sped the entire way there and got me to the exam hall with only 1 minute to spare. I had barely breathed a sigh of relief when the proctor stopped me. "Excuse me, your admission ticket is fake. I need you to leave." I looked down at the paper in my hand. At some point, someone had switched out my admission ticket. In its place was a huge drawing of a pig's head with a message scrawled beside it. [Dumbass Cooper, I'm holding on to your ticket! Surprise!] Beneath that was another line. [Don't trip in the same spot twice. That's lesson number two.] It was Brent's handwriting. It was Juno's idea. I still could not tell truth from lies, but I could tell the difference between genuine care and fake concern. From that day forward, I never trusted anyone so easily again.

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.

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.

"Forget it, I'll marry him!" The moment Margot Johanson said those words, she suddenly felt a sense of relief. She could hear her parents' voices full of smiles in her ears. "Gigi, we’re glad you’ve made up your mind. Your fiancé may be in a coma, but he’s quite handsome.  “Although he’s been out for years, what if he wakes up? After all, he’s the one set to inherit the family business..." Her parents, trying to persuade their own daughter to marry a comatose man, actually thought she was getting the better deal.  They seemed convinced that no one else in the world would be foolish enough to take on such a situation.  Margot smiled bitterly. "Don’t worry. Since I’ve made up my mind to marry, I won’t back out. I won’t let your precious Maisie take my place."

Don Petty is a man of ironclad principles. When he makes a promise—no matter what it is—he'll definitely honor it. So when his ex-girlfriend, Taylor Stapley, shows up clutching a stack of long-expired relationship coupons, he honors each and every one of them. "This is a 'Movie Time' coupon. You promised to watch this re-release with me." So he abandons me, his fever-ridden wife, to spend the entire night at the movie theater with her. "This is a 'Let's Go On a Trip' coupon. You promised we'd take a trip every year." So he ignores me, his heavily pregnant wife, to watch the stars with her in the desert. "This is a 'Companionship' coupon. You need to come keep me company when I'm feeling down." So he promptly walks out on me, fresh out of surgery after a miscarriage, to be with her. That is the last time I make a scene. With bloodshot eyes and tears streaming down my face, I cling to him, begging him to stay. But Don simply yanks his hand away with a frown. "I need to honor the promises I've made," he says irritably. "That is a matter of principle! Don't be unreasonable!" But he seems to have forgotten that he's broken every promise he's made to me. Not long after I'm discharged from the hospital comes the anniversary of Mom's death. And once again, Taylor cashes in another coupon and takes him away. This time, I don't bother stopping him. This marriage that's long past its expiry date, I don't want it anymore.

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.

Olivia Hall was 18 when her parents died in a bloody gang war. Henry West, the city's most powerful crime boss, took her captive and forced her into a relationship. He kept her at his side, never letting her leave. Olivia fought him every step of the way, willing to risk her life rather than give in. But no matter how much she hated him or how hard she pushed him away, Henry lavished her with affection and made sure no one could hurt her. Over time, his relentless devotion wore down her defenses. Against her better judgment, Olivia fell in love with him. Everyone said she was Henry's greatest strength and the one weakness that could destroy him. The day Olivia agreed to marry him, Henry wiped out half the city's criminal world to make sure no one left could threaten her. Then he announced he was retiring. "Olivia, you're the only woman I'll ever love. There'll never be anyone else. I promise." Years later, Olivia discovered that Henry was secretly looking after another woman, someone he treated like she was too precious for the world to touch. "Olivia, I still love you more than anyone, but Grace is sweet and innocent. She reminds me of you when we first met, and I can't just walk away from her. Once this is over, I'll make it up to you. I swear." Olivia wasn't going to give him another chance. He had ruined what they had, and she had no interest in holding on to what was left. She burned every keepsake from their relationship and boarded a flight overseas, determined to leave Henry behind for good.

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.

I ignored my friends and family’s objections and insisted on pursuing my now-girlfriend, who was disfigured in a car crash when she tried to save her first love. Some laughed at me for being a back-up plan, but I didn’t care. I worked day and night, earning money for her plastic surgery, and stayed by her side as she walked out of depression. But on the eve of our wedding day, as I was doing her laundry, a marriage certificate dropped out of her pants pocket. The groom was her first love. I was about to make things clear with her when I overheard her conversation with her best friend. “I know Steve saved me, but if Yves doesn’t marry me, he’ll be forced into a marriage alliance. I don’t want to see him lose his freedom. “As for Steve, I’ll find someone to forge a certificate for me. Don’t blurt this out, okay…” I felt my blood then grow cold as I quietly changed the groom of our wedding three days later to her first love. By the time she found out about the surprise, I would have left for abroad, never to return.

Victoria Blackwood was a completely different person after being reborn. She no longer woke up before sunrise to make breakfast for Sebastian Blackwood and deliver it to his military unit so he could enjoy a home-cooked meal. She no longer picked up their son from daycare every evening, holding his little hand as he excitedly told her about the new songs he had learned that day. Even after their son, Ethan Blackwood, was injured in a car accident and rushed to the hospital, Victoria ignored Sebastian's repeated calls. It wasn't until his 38th call that she finally answered, taking her time as if nothing were wrong. Sebastian's voice was filled with worry, but he was clearly holding back his anger. "Do you even know Ethan was in a car accident?" Victoria held the phone to her ear while looking over the documents in front of her. She replied calmly, "I know. Haven't you already called me dozens of times?"

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.

Three years after his release from prison, Cody Lawson finally learns how to coexist peacefully with Titus Sweeney, his sugar mommy's husband. When Titus is neglected, Cody encourages her to spend more time with him. When Titus gets worried that Cody might have a child with her, Cody makes sure to use strict contraceptive measures, going so far as to undergo a vasectomy for his sake. In their social circle, Cody is jokingly dubbed the "ideal kept man", the one who gives the legal spouse the least amount of trouble. Andrew Lloyd, a social-media-influencer friend of Titus', arranges a live-streamed interview with Cody. The camera is angled straight at Cody's face as Andrew asks with a hint of disdain, "So, Mr. Lawson, you dropped out of Strawford University at 20 and became the star performer at Nirvana Host Club. "Later, you latched onto Ms. Harvey, who was already engaged to Titus, and even stabbed Titus in a fit of jealousy, landing yourself a five-year prison sentence. "I'm curious, though. Can a gold-digger like you ever truly love someone?" Cody pauses, then offers a faint, wry smile as he replies, "I can. When I was 18, I had my first-ever girlfriend. Her name was Jennifer Harvey." She had been so good to him, and yet, later on, she faked her own death just to deceive him.

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."

Every time Millie Johnson, my daughter, returns home from playing with my best friend's dog at his place during summer break, she brings home an expensive doll. I have no choice but to pinch pennies and save up for a gift for my best friend after seeing how much Millie loves the dolls. I return home earlier than usual one day and overhear Millie talking excitedly into her smartwatch from her hiding spot in her room. "Mission accomplished, Mommy! Daddy didn't suspect a thing!" I am momentarily stunned. I am convinced that I have misheard, but then I hear Millie ask for a reward. "You're taking your wedding anniversary photos with Papa today, right? Can I come along, too? I'm so sick of eating plain pasta with Daddy every day, Mommy!" I freeze, my breath catching as I snatch the smartwatch from her. I happen to see the photo that has just been sent over. Sophie Johnson, my wife—who is supposed to be on her janitorial duty this morning—is actually wearing a pure white wedding dress. I stare at the screen, my hands trembling uncontrollably as my heart skips a beat. Millie tosses her doll aside and hurriedly tells me off, "You can't just snoop on me, Daddy! I'll be heading out to play with the doggy later, so don't bother us!" She excitedly peers out the window and waits for her ride after saying that. I stand frozen in place, staring at the apology message Sophie sent just a minute earlier. "I'm so sorry, Steven. It's all my fault for blowing the business and making you and Millie suffer so much all these years. I swear I'll make it up to you, Steven." I feel a sharp pang in my chest, leaving me barely able to breathe. I don't want to confront Sophie yet, so I simply trail the car that has come to pick Millie up instead.

The peach I’d given my childhood friend was rotting in the corner of his desk again. Juice had soaked through the little note I’d written, and the sickly sweet smell had everyone nearby complaining. One of my classmates covered his nose. “Mia Ander, is that your trash again? It stinks.” My face burned as I hurried over and picked up the peach. “It’s not trash! “It only went bad because no one bothered to take care of it.” Just then, Julian Waterson walked into the classroom. He paused for a moment. Then, without saying a word, he picked up the strawberry milk the prettiest girl in class had given him, pushed the straw through the lid, and took a sip. The next day, I brought another peach. But this time, I didn’t leave it on the corner of Julian’s desk. His longtime rival leaned across his desk and held out a hand with a grin. “If he doesn’t want it, give it to me.” “No.” “Why not?” I looked down and took a bite from the sweetest part of the peach. “Because from now on, I’m keeping the best for myself.”

In the seventh year of our relationship, my boyfriend, Hunter Jenkin, seemed to have lost interest in everything. Desperate to figure out what still excited him, I bought a wristband that measured romantic excitement and fastened it around his wrist myself. When we watched a movie together, the wristband registered just 1 point. When we climbed a snow-covered mountain and kissed at the summit, the score was only 5. On his birthday, when I slipped a ring onto his finger, it rose to a mere 8. No matter what I did, I could never spark any real excitement in him. I was almost ready to give up, and I even suspected that the wristband was nothing more than an overpriced gimmick. Then, on the first night of Hunter’s business trip, my phone suddenly began vibrating nonstop. [Your partner’s romantic excitement score: 90.] I stared at the screen, stunned. By 1 a.m., the score had hit 100 and stayed there all night. I opened the location tracker, only to find an address so familiar that it sent a chill through me. It was the home of my best friend, Candace Lindhurst. Hunter had not lost his capacity for love. He had simply directed it all to someone else.

I was in the parking garage of my Beverly Hills high-rise. And I backed my car into my neighbor's Ferrari. On purpose. I got out, a half-empty bottle of tequila in my hand, right in front of her. "Are you blind? Do you know how much this car costs? Can you even afford to fix it?" She was furious, her face turning red as she whipped out her phone to call 911. I just smirked. "You should probably call them. Get the LAPD down here to arrest me. I'll wait." The first time around, I was the fall guy for my fiancé, Grant, and his sister, Blair. They got high at some Hollywood party, went joyriding, and killed an innocent valet. But the car was my Porsche. And they swore I was the one driving. I rotted in a California state prison for ten years. The shock killed my mom. A heart attack. When I got out, they weren't done. They forged offshore debts to drain my trust fund and drove me to suicide. I woke up 24 hours before it all happened again.

Marty Greene, a newly hired assistant, publicly humiliates me by calling me a worthless nobody who hangs around Audrey Melton. As my girlfriend and an award-winning actress who loves me more than life itself, Audrey promises to stand up for me. She devises a seven-day plan to build Marty up before bringing him crashing down. On the first day, she replaces me with Marty as her personal assistant, claiming she wants him to understand how hard I work. On the third day, she gives him a luxury car and a mansion, supposedly to make him lose himself in vanity. On the fifth day, she bakes him a birthday cake on a live reality show. She insists it's a crucial part of her plan and begs me to be patient. Then on the seventh day, my mother, Deborah Faulkner, suddenly falls gravely ill. As she lies dying, her final wish is to see Audrey one last time. Audrey readily agrees. But I wait at the hospital all night, and she never shows up. Instead, all I see is a post from Marty on X. "Audrey is simply too kind for her own good. She almost falls for a scam after just one phone call. Luckily, I'm smart enough to see through it and stop her from falling for it." Mom dies without ever getting to see Audrey again. It's not until the following day that Audrey finally calls. "Babe, just hang in there a little longer. I'm going to expose Marty's vanity and ruin his reputation at today's awards ceremony. Then, we'll go public with our relationship and have the wedding of the century to make Mrs. Landry happy." Audrey has no idea that Mom is already dead, and that I'm done waiting for her.