Historias cortas de Plot Twists Romance y novelas con Bias ambientadas en Marriage

Not long after Josh Stewart proposed to me, the Stewart family went bankrupt. He took on three jobs, pouring everything he had into taking care of me. Every morning, he handed me the first cup of coffee, and the only fresh bagel on the table was always mine. He would pull me into his arms and promise, softly but firmly, that once he had saved his first 100,000 dollars, he would marry me. I believed every word. Until the day I stepped into an exclusive private club and saw him with his childhood sweetheart, their fingers intertwined, as he ordered a bottle of Lafite without a second thought. "If Yvette still hasn't realized in three days that Donald's been pretending to be you, then you win," she said with a smile. "Her eyesight isn't great," Josh replied, a hint of amusement in his voice. "And Donald avoids women. She won't notice. If I win, you're coming abroad with me for the wedding." I stood there, just out of sight, listening. A small smile tugged at my lips. Perhaps… it was time to find myself a different groom.

I'm famous in the rich wives' society for having an ostrich-like personality—cowardly and often loves escaping from reality. In my three-year marriage, I've personally conducted cosmetic surgeries on 99 substitutes of Callum Holden's first love, Alice Teller. Veronica Dane, the 99th substitute, stares at her reflection in the mirror in delight. There's a trace of mockery in her eyes at the same time. "Mrs. Holden, I heard that you've been alone throughout your marriage. What a shame… To think that the nation's best plastic surgeon can't work on altering her own face. "In order to thank you for your efforts, I'll give you a glimpse of Callum's bedroom performance when the time comes. How about that?" I tune out Veronica's mocking words. After all, I've gone through similar situations 98 times in the past, and I have fought back before. But all Callum said to me was, "You owe me this much, Talia. You can never finish atoning for your sins, even if it takes you your entire life!" The thing is, he has forgotten that I've given him 99 substitutes, just as I had promised. Now, I will never go looking for the love that is never mine, to begin with.

One week before our wedding, my fiance, Ashton Fraser, suddenly cancels the world-tour wedding trip that I've been preparing for the past two years. Thinking that he's misclicked something, I turn on my tablet and am about to ask the wedding planner what's going on when I see the WhatsApp on the tablet syncing with the version Ashton has on his phone. That's when numerous text messages from one of Ashton's friends begin popping up. "Wait, did you seriously cancel your fiancee's world-tour wedding trip just because you wanted to fulfill Mariah's wish? You even entrusted the authority to organize your wedding to Mariah? "I'm not exaggerating when I say this wedding is practically your fiancee's life's work! Everyone knows that she went so far as to force herself to continue planning the wedding even when she relapsed from her cardiac arrest! Aren't you worried that she might not marry you at all once she finds out about this?" With a trembling finger, I tap on the notification. Ashton replies to the friend nonchalantly, "Laura has already given her life to me; why would she care about how her wedding goes? Mariah wants to try her hand at organizing a wedding. This is her dream. "Don't worry. Laura cares more about this wedding than anyone else in this world. She's even willing to cut half of her heart just for me. Clearly, she loves me to the moon and back. Even if she finds out about this matter, she will never have the heart to leave me. At most, she'll only throw a tantrum that lasts for a few days. I'll make sure to coax her properly when the time comes." I take a deep breath to suppress the irregular rate at which my heart is beating at the moment. Then, I tell another man, "Are you interested in getting married? I still need a groom for my wedding."

We had been married for three years, and together, our income was decent at twenty-six grand a month. Yet, we barely had two hundred bucks in savings. My husband was a nice guy, lending practically his entire wages to our next-door widow and her daughter. He covered their expenses when the daughter needed money for school, when the widow needed a little time at the spa, and when they wanted to give their home a new facelift. The moment my father fell ill and needed surgery, I went next door to ask for the money back. However, my neighbors slammed the door in my face. “Your husband chose to give us the money. Why should we pay you back?” Enraged, I sought help from my husband, only to be criticized. “I felt bad for them. Why did you demand payment when they are already struggling? What’s wrong with you?” I smirked. That night, I decided to do a good deed by spending my entire paycheck to help a broke college hunk. The next day, our power was cut off for unpaid bills, and my husband lost an unfinished document he hadn’t saved. Putting his finger up my nose, he gave me a piece of his mind. “Where’s your money? Why didn’t you pay the bills?” I replied with the most innocent look on my face, “I helped a struggling college student. His life was falling apart because he had to deal with a sick mom and a deadbeat dad. His needs should come before the utility bills.”

I won a hundred million. Without a second thought, I quit my job, the one that paid me twenty thousand a month. My husband, who earned barely six thousand, assumed I had been laid off, and in that instant, he showed his true colors. "Let's get a divorce," he said calmly. "You're not good enough for me anymore." Even my mother-in-law, who had always seemed so gentle, turned on me without hesitation. "Get out of this house," she snapped. "And take your sick daughter with you. From now on, you're on your own." That was the moment I gave up on both of them. I did not argue. I did not try to stay. Meanwhile, they were thrilled, convinced they had finally rid themselves of me and my daughter, the burdens they no longer wanted. What they did not know was that inside my bag was not just a lottery ticket worth a hundred million. There was also a diagnosis. My husband, Wade Zeller, had late-stage stomach cancer.

Three years of marriage, and I'd become known in our social circle as the ultimate doormat. My husband staying out all night, his silent treatment, bringing his first love home to flaunt in my face—through it all, I'd smile and make him hangover soup, keeping the house spotless. Everyone thought I loved him to the point of madness. Even he believed it. Until the day of the divorce, when he begged me with tears in his eyes not to leave—and then watched "me" collapse rigid to the floor after a power outage, revealing a charging port on the back of my neck. He lost his mind. Meanwhile, the real me was lying on a beach in the Maldives, running my fingers through the hair of a gorgeous twenty-something with a six-pack, cheerfully pressing the "factory reset" button.

'Ms. Johnson, your marriage certificate is fake. 'The system shows that the name of Mr. William Clark's spouse is Sophia Lopez, and they have a six-year-old son.' I was holding my daughter, Emmy, at the time. My ears were rang as I recalled the words that escaped the lips of the staff member at the vital records office while passing the piece of marriage certificate, which now had a trashy feel to it, back to me. Suddenly, my phone vibrated, snapping me out of my thoughts. I checked and saw that it was a message from Sophia. 'Heather Johnson, my beloved husband, William, is attending my son's parent-teacher meeting and doesn't have time to help you with your illegitimate daughter's birth certificate application.' I clutched my phone and stared at the text message. Tears blurred my vision, for it made my eyes sting when I saw Sophia calling Emmy illegitimate. I kissed Emmy's forehead and carried her out of the hospital. … When I was on my way home, I called William's archnemesis, the very man he despised with every fiber of his being. "I'm currently single. If your offer still stands, I'll marry you in five days."

My husband is the director of a private hospital. During the three years of work, he would always find his "female best friend" with all kinds of excuses. The first time he went, he bought me a new purse I had been longing for. The second time he went, he credited one thousand dollars to the beauty salon I frequented. Only after he gave his family member's spot for the hospital's retreat did I finally ask for my one-hundredth request. He simply signed the form, thinking that it was some kind of order for a luxurious item. "I've neglected you lately. Shall I take you to see the aurora after I come back this time?" When he gracefully gave me that promise, I calmly smiled. That was because he didn't know the last thing I asked him to sign was divorce papers.

On our tenth anniversary, Evan Rodger and I decided to tattoo each other's names on our chests. After the tattoo session, I woke up with my head still feeling groggy. To my dismay, I found the words "Old Crone" tattooed in a bold font across my chest. Upon noticing the way my expression dropped, Isabel Hawthorn, who was the tattooist, snickered, "You’ve been dating Evan for a decade, but he still hasn’t registered your marriage together. What does that make you if not an old crone?" I smashed the mirror on the spot, which spewed broken shards in her direction. Evan practically threw himself in her direction and pulled her into his arms to protect her. He snapped at me with a ferocious scowl, "She’s just a young, naive girl who was trying to make a joke. Why are you picking on her?" I stared intently at the parted collar of his shirt. What was supposed to be my name tattooed on his chest had been replaced with "Isabel Hawthorn, My Only Love". Isabel wrapped her arms around Evan. She expertly played the victim and appealed dearly to him, "Evan said he liked my name last time, so I was only trying to make a joke. You wouldn’t be upset at me, would you, Claire?"

On the day my husband, Samuel Fletcher, and I flew home, our plane ran into great turbulence, causing it to crash. We both died in that crash. When we wake up again, we've returned to the night of our graduation day. That's when I find out Samuel has never let go of his feelings for his first love, Sienna Blake, the whole time. I decide to grant his wish in this lifetime. I take off my wedding dress and no longer simp over him. After that, I part ways with him, not planning to contact him ever again. Seven years later, Samuel becomes a famous artist in the city. He and Sienna announce their relationship publicly at an art gallery. Upon noticing that I've come to the art gallery on my own, Samuel mocks me right away. "I know you love me deeply, but can you please stop being so shameless? I can't believe you stalked me all the way here!" At that moment, my daughter, Elena Dalton, runs over and takes my hand. Samuel looks extremely shell-shocked. With raised brows, he demands, "Didn't you promise you'd love me and me only? Who the hell did you have this bastard child with?"

After my grandpa receives a critical notice regarding his illness, he takes my boyfriend, Layne Harper, by the hand and pleads with him. "Layne, please marry Aleah while I'm still alive this month. I want to see her live happily ever after." Everyone sheds tears in the hospital room, thinking that Layne will heed Grandpa's words right away by getting down on one knee and proposing to me. After all, I have been waiting for him for the past ten years. With tears brimming in my eyes, I wait for Layne's response eagerly. But he covers the speaker of his phone out of worry that he might awaken his childhood friend, Ruby Martin, whom he has spent the last five hours coaxing to sleep. Finally, Layne replies gently, "Don't worry, Grandpa. I will give Aleah the happiness she deserves. Even if we don't get married in the end, I'll stick with my promise." My relatives stop cheering Layne on immediately. Then, they turn to look at me sympathetically. But I just smile and go with the flow. "I'll still be happy even if I don't marry Layne, Grandpa." After all, in two hours, I will accept another man's marriage proposal.

At the family dinner over the holidays, Elias Barrett has given all of our relatives and their children thick wads of cash. When it's my turn, he just frowns at me. "We've been together for so long. What's the point in going through the motions? You're the one managing the finances, so you can just withdraw what you need from the account." I merely nod without saying anything. But soon, I notice a text message from his bank popping out on the notifications' list. "You have transferred 1,430 dollars to Jamie Sutton. Remark: Babe, happy holidays. XOXO Elias." It turns out that Elias' anti-formalism rule is meant for me, not others. I don't bother starting a fight or throwing a tantrum. Instead, I just cancel the booking on my wedding venue that will be used next month. After that, I shred the kidney donation consent form meant for Elias into pieces. Once the holidays are over, I'm not going to extend Elias' life for him anymore.

After my husband, Samson Ferrell, receives his year-end bonus, he takes his godsister, Maya Taylors, on a three-month overseas trip. Meanwhile, I'm forced to continue working while taking care of our children on my own. In the middle of the night, when my children catch fevers simultaneously, I have to console my younger daughter with soothing words while wiping my oldest daughters down with a damp towel. My phone doesn't stop buzzing the whole time. From time to time, I receive pictures of Samson and Maya in swimwear while lounging under the Moldave sun. Sometimes, I see photos of them skiing happily in Chwiss. Honestly speaking, if Samson is just a friend of mine, I'll find myself admiring his relaxed and casual lifestyle. Unfortunately, he is my legal husband. My phone screen lights up again. This time, it's a racy picture sent by Maya. "Hey, I heard that you're taking care of the children at home. Well then, I shall take good care of Samson." After saving all of the photos and purchase history, I book an appointment with a divorce attorney. The day of Samson's return to the country will be the day he receives a lawsuit to recover marital assets.

My cousin, Myra Walsh, leaves a voice message in the family group chat in a mean and uncouth manner. "Mom, I'm not meeting that guy who drives a rundown car. One look at him tells me that he's a single pathetic loser." She then kicks my chair. "Hey Sam, that useless piece of shit is a good match for you. Why don't you take my place on the blind date?" I follow Myra's line of sight. There's an old-looking car parked outside, and the owner, Henry Quinton, is currently reclining against the car while smoking. My entire family thinks he's just an ex-convict who has just gotten released from prison and is unable to land a job yet. I'm the only one who knows that's not the truth. Last week, when I was carrying out my internship at a bank, I witnessed the bank manager inviting Henry into the vault. Apparently, the trail of numbers Henry has in his savings is as long as a phone number. After putting on some makeup on my face to make me pure and innocent, I put on an oversized shirt before heading out of the apartment. In the cold wind, I cower slightly from the cold as I hand a thermos flask over to Henry. "Sir, Maya said she's not a match for you, so I'm here in her place." Henry snuffs out his cigarette, his gaze fixing on my flapping hem for three seconds. "Lass, if you want to be with me, you'll have to suffer tremendously in life." "I'm willing to go through anything as long as I get to be with you." That night, Maya flaunts photos of the bag a rich scion has given her. As for me, I've gone over to Henry's apartment.

My husband, Henry Gibbons, is a man with a heart of gold. He has sponsored Felicity Lambert, an impoverished female college student who has come from the mountains, and yet I've never seen this person before. During the New Year holidays, Henry has traveled to the mountains to give Felicity some well-needed resources, but he ends up getting trapped there because of a blizzard. My heart aches for him, so I've shared the local news while praying for his quick return. But that's when I come across a video clip featuring a comic convention on the trending list. Henry, who claims that he's trapped in the mountains, can be seen wearing a cosplaying outfit. In the video, he's kneeling on the floor while helping a scantily-dressed young woman tie the bells to her ankles. The woman titters as she pats him on the head. "Thank you, Henry!" The caption of the video reads, "Daddy's love is the salvation meant for me and me only." I tap into the uploader's profile picture. The pinned post is a photo of the luxurious goods meant to be flaunted to the Internet. A pregnancy report sits next to those goods as well. "Daddy has told me that once that hag of a wife dies, these things will be mine!" In the comment section, Henry's smurf account has responded, "Be patient, my little minx. Her time will be up soon." At that moment, I find myself staring down at the New Year's dinner that I've just whipped up. Then, I dump everything into the trash can without hesitation.

Jaxon Slater and I had lived as a married couple for five years, but we had never made it official. Every time we went to City Hall to sign the papers, Lisa Clark, Jaxon's coworker, found a way to derail it. The first time, she did not know how to format a document, so he stayed behind at the office to help her. The second time, she came down with a fever. He hung up on me mid-call and left without a backward glance. The third time, she had a performance review. He got so caught up in it that he left me at City Hall for an entire day. It happened fifteen times. Every attempt to make our marriage legal was interrupted by something involving her. I saw the pattern for what it was. A man like that was not worth keeping. Thus, I left for good. And the moment I did, he came after me as if nothing else in his life mattered.

In order to give my boyfriend, Alaric Lovell, a surprise on our anniversary, I manage to finish my work in three days on my business trip that's originally set to be five days. But as soon as I reach the front door after a whole night's travel, I hear laughter coming from within. Just one minute ago, Alaric has texted me, saying that he misses me greatly because he's home alone. The next thing I know, the sounds of people egging on someone grow even louder. "It's your turn now, Alaric. Truth or dare? Remember, we want the juiciest details!" "Damn, you guys really are nosy, huh? Fine, I'll spill the tea. Not a single word to Elena, alright?" "Just spill already! Don't you trust us with your secrets?" "I've given my virginity to Tracy," Alaric reveals. Everyone starts going "ooh" knowingly. Meanwhile, the revelation has me stunned. Tracy? As in Tracy Sanderson, Alaric's female friend who acts like a guy around him? Before I can register what's going on, Tracy adds smilingly, "Oh, he did more than give me his virginity. He's even impregnated me in the past." That's when I fling the door open and step into the house. As I stare at the shameless couple, I smile at them. "Is that so? Where's your baby, then?"

Yesterday, my fiancé told me he didn’t have time to come home with me for the holidays, but secretly, he had booked a flight to my hometown. I couldn’t help feeling a quiet thrill. Justin Baker had always been good at surprises back when we were dating. I just didn’t expect that now, when we were practically like an old married couple, he’d still do something like this. I was just about to tell my dad the news when my stepsister suddenly dropped a message in the family group chat that she was bringing her boyfriend home for the holidays. The relatives in the family immediately started teasing her, wanting to see what he looked like. The next second, photo after photo of her and Justin’s couple pictures flooded the chat. “I told you he’s really handsome, right? And he’s the same age as me.” “Oh wow, you locked him down so young? Dawn, you’re impressive.” “Hmph, of course. He’s crazy about me.” I stopped breathing. So that was why, when he found out I’d be spending the holidays at my mom’s place this year, he suddenly said he didn’t have time to come with me. It was because he already knew we wouldn’t run into each other. My hands trembled as I sent him one last message. [I’ve returned the engagement gift to you. We’re done.]

I've been engaged to my boyfriend, Evan Shaw, for five years. He's a military commander, which is probably why he has delayed our wedding 56 times so far. The first delay has occurred because one of his female soldiers, Chloe Brooks, has gotten injured. Evan needs to rush back to the military camp due to the incident, which causes the wedding to be delayed. The second delay has occurred because Chloe has received a promotion. After sending me to the church's entrance, Evan quickly leaves with the celebratory gifts. … The 56th delay has occurred halfway throughout the ceremony. Apparently, Chloe has called Evans on the phone and crying about her break-up. Of course, Evan gets ready to ditch me at the altar without hesitation. I've begged him to not leave me, only for him to remove my hand coldly. "We can always delay the wedding. The thing is, Chloe wants to jump off a building right now because she's gotten her heart broken. How could you ever compare the importance of your wedding to the life of a nation's pride?" Evan has told me before that if I want to become a military wife, I need to have a higher endurance limit than others. I need to get used to the fact that he prioritizes others before me. But I've never even had a proper wedding of my own. How can I be considered a military wife just yet? So, I submit an application that makes me a covert operative that needs to be transferred back into the government's ranks. But after I've left, Evan breaks down in tears. With the wedding ring in hand, he tries to make it up to me by promising to complete the unfinished wedding ceremony with me.

Did you know that there is no cure for a migraine? However, my wealthy husband never suffered from it because my hands massaged him every day. On the day of my car accident, I begged a passerby to call my husband to save me, but he answered impatiently, "Is it necessary to use such a cheap trick on me just because I refused to take your call?" I could hear the malicious laughter of his childhood crush from the other end of the line. My right hand suffered a permanent bone fracture, while my left hand had signs of muscle deterioration. When the lawyer was done drafting the divorce papers, I signed them with great difficulty and delivered them to him. On the day he suffered a massive migraine, my husband looked at my limp hands and stayed silent for a long time.