Childhood Sweethearts Romance Short Stories & Awakening Novels

This was the ninth year since Luca and I met, and the fourth time we had honored our ridiculous thirty-day break. Luca believed it was the secret to making our relationship last. Every year after our anniversary, we paused our relationship for thirty days. We did not call, ask questions, or interfere with whom the other person dated. If either of us found someone better, we would part gracefully. If not, we would return to each other at the end of the month. Tonight, the Westbridge University racing team had reserved the upstairs room of a bar just off campus. Around me, the guys shook bottles of champagne. "To another year of freedom! Congratulations to our captain on being single again!" "The betting pool is open! Bet left if you think Luca and Elena will marry after graduation. Bet right if you think they'll finally break up!" Champagne flew as laughter blended with the music. I sat alone in one corner, watching as though they were not gambling on my relationship. While everyone laughed, Luca entered the party with his arm around Sienna—the same woman he had chosen last year. He leaned close to me and smiled. “Don’t overthink it. You’re still the only woman in my future.” I rested one hand over the child he did not know I was carrying. Everyone was betting that I would forgive Luca on the thirty-first day. This time, they were all going to lose.

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.”

After Nathan Seville stands me up for the seventh time we're supposed to register our marriage, I finally cut all ties with him—completely and on my own terms. If he shows up at a gathering, I don't go. If he's invited to perform at the college anniversary, I leave early. The moment my company decides to work with him, I resign on the spot. Even on Christmas Eve, when he shows up at my house with gifts, I make up an excuse about needing to visit someone. Calls? Blocked. Socials? Deleted. My strategy is simple—cut it all off. I don't reach out, and he has no way of finding me. For the first 30 years of my life, I spent most of it loving him with everything I had. I cared for him, supported him, and waited for him. But after being left hanging for the seventh time at the City Hall, I finally wake up. I don't want to live like this anymore. Even if I end up alone, it's still better than spending night after night waiting in an empty house that never feels like home!

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."

The year the Lawson family was on the edge of bankruptcy, my father made a deal with Rory Lawson and arranged for me to marry him. I didn't know he already had a fiancée, who was also his childhood sweetheart. Later, when my father became embroiled in a scandal and the company faced collapse, Rory brought her home, promising her the grand wedding she deserved. I didn't cry or make a scene. I just quietly packed my bags. Rory sneered, "Don't pull that hard-to-get act. You think you're still the pampered heiress?" Unknown to him, I had the divorce agreement he signed while drunk. In seven days, I'd be leaving the country with my father.

This was our last road trip before graduation. My girlfriend, my two childhood friends, and my best friend had all agreed that the five of us would do the whole trip together. But on the third day, one of our cars broke down, leaving only four free seats. My girlfriend, Eleanor Delaney, handed me a six-hour bus ticket without hesitation. “You don’t get carsick anyway. Just tough it out. We’ll wait for you at the next stop.” Just when my best friend, Edmund Turner, was about to volunteer to take the ticket, my two other childhood friends, Faye Howard and Lily Concord, cut him off. Faye frowned. “You were throwing up yesterday. Why are you trying to play the hero?” Lily chimed in, “Are you sure you can handle six hours on the bus?” Eleanor had already carried my luggage out for me. She said with a smile, “Everett will be fine. He can handle it.” As always, I agreed. But six hours later, when I reached the destination we had agreed on, I discovered that they had changed their route and gone to another city on a whim. In the group chat, the four of them ate barbecue and laughed happily. No one even remembered to inform me about the change of plans. At that moment, I recalled what had happened over the past few years. When Edmund felt cold, they offered him three jackets. When he felt tired, everyone would stop to let him rest. The less I complained, the more they took me for granted. This time, I was done chasing after them. I bought a return ticket and replied to the out-of-town company that I had turned down two weeks earlier. [Hello, I’d like to accept the position you offered me before.] I did not want to be around people I had known for over a decade anymore.

In order to marry Layla Weiss, I cut ties with my family. My dad, Dan Cruise, crossed my name out of the family tree right then and there. My mom, Maryam Cruise, slapped me across the face and told me that she no longer considered me her son. I had no regrets. The engagement party was set for the International Trade Center banquet hall. We sent out 200 invitations. I waited for three hours wearing a borrowed suit. She did not show up. I could not reach her by phone, and she did not reply to my texts. I smiled and told the guests that she had to go on a last-minute business trip. After the party ended, I cleaned up the mess all by myself. A trending topic popped up on my phone. [The Weiss Family’s Eldest Granddaughter Gets Married. The Groom Is Her Childhood Sweetheart] In the photo, she was wearing a floor-length gown, arm-in-arm with Alban Carter. They stood outside the city hall with their copies of marriage certificate in hand. The date on the certificate was three days ago. I folded the borrowed suit, packed it into a bag, and dialed a number I had not called in three years. “Mom, can I come home?”

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.

After five long years of dating, Winona Shaw finally said yes. I was elated, like a scavenger who'd struck gold. I put everything I had into the engagement party, but out of the blue, Winona embraced Claude Landton instead. She even tried to frame me and boot me to jail. I canceled the party and called the cops instead. That made Winona mad, and Claude started panicking. Icily, I said, "Now, calm down. We have a lot of trials to go through. See you in court."

The day my husband, Eric Johnson, brought his foster sister home from overseas, he gave her our master bedroom. "Yvonne just lost her husband. She's heartbroken, so I want her to feel comfortable," he said. I nodded obediently. "Okay." The next day was my birthday. Yvonne said she was feeling down and wanted her brother, Eric, to go stargazing with her. Eric turned to me and said, "She really needs me right now. I'll celebrate your birthday with you later." Still, I smiled and nodded. "Okay." Ten years of marriage and I was ready to walk away from it all… Because I have lived this life once already. In my previous life, I made the mistake of asking Eric to stay with me on my birthday. I did not let him go stargazing with Yvonne. She ended up falling into the water in her sorrow and was rushed to the hospital. After that, Eric shoved my head into a bathtub and held me there until I drowned. In this second life, when Eric handed me the divorce papers and said, "I’m only marrying Yvonne to help her revoke her foreign citizenship and restore her citizenship here. Once it's done, we'll remarry." I did not hesitate. I signed my name without a second thought. By the time he came looking for me again, I was already sitting on his archenemy's lap, smiling like a flower in full bloom.

Everyone in Brontville knew that Noah Wilder only lived for Ana Avery. In kindergarten, he once shielded her from being pierced by the sharp tip of a pencil. When they were teenagers, he would climb a tree to catch the cicadas whose constant buzzing disturbed her afternoon naps. After they grew up, she once casually mentioned how much she loved spring. He bought properties in a dozen cities around the world known for their springtime beauty, just so he could take her on a spontaneous spring getaway whenever she wanted. Other than the period when he suffered from amnesia, Noah had been devoted to Ana for nearly all his life. After their marriage, Ana was diagnosed with Amyotrophic Lateral Sclerosis, or ALS, a neurodegenerative condition. When everyone urged Noah to get a divorce, he remained devoted to her. Even when she had lost all sensation, he hoisted her on his back and took a pilgrimage up a mountain to an ancient church. Upon his arrival, he took her hand and helped her engrave a Bible verse onto a pendant. He hoped and prayed that she would survive despite the adversity. Alas, she was pronounced dead on a particularly chilly winter day. Noah sat motionless next to the bed with Ana’s body cradled in his arms. He pressed his forehead against her cheek and whispered something that was wholly unexpected, given everything he had done. "Ana, I’ve fulfilled my duty and repaid everything I owe you in this lifetime. If there’s a next life, I hope you’ll grant me the chance to be with her."

After an accident and miscarriage, Hansel Saddler and I are so devastated that we're both diagnosed with depression. For the next five years, I try my best to act like I'm normal as I care for him and try to cheer him up. This lasts until I overhear him speaking to the psychologist at the clinic's door. "Work's been getting busy lately, and pretending to be depressed makes it inconvenient to deal with that. Can you change my diagnosis to manic disorder?" The psychologist giggles. "You have been quite manic lately, darling. You've been making me feel really sore down there." "I can make you feel even more sore now." Then, I hear moans and groans. It turns out everything I've done over the past five years is nothing but a joke. I pull up my conversation with Colin Foster. "I agree to undergo secluded treatment deep in the mountains abroad."

"Interested in having a date with me? Hurry up and get over here!" Elliot Coleman sends me a photo of a venue that's decorated romantically. It's followed by that sentence and an address. He and his friends laugh hysterically when I arrive in a carefully selected dress. "I told you, right? She'd come running with just a single sentence! Trust me, she'll do whatever I want her to do!" Elliot ignores my embarrassment and publicly confesses his feelings for Isabelle Stevens. He even falsely accuses me of refusing to leave him alone and tries to chase me off. Then, he turns pale when my newlywed husband arrives and shields me.

For three years, Quinn Walker had been engaged to Liam Grant. During that time, she'd chased off countless women he'd flirted with and buried more rumors about his love life than she could count. None of it had ever bothered her. Quinn had everything going for her: beauty, a great figure, and social standing. More importantly, she and Liam had grown up together, and their bond ran deep. She had never doubted that he loved her. He was simply angry with his family for trying to control his life. So whenever she dealt with another woman, she'd turn to her fiancé with a smile and ask, "Are you done being mad yet? When are we getting married?" Liam would always give the same lazy reply. "Just wait a little longer." And somehow, a little longer turned into three years. Then one day, something changed. Her friends began warning her to keep an eye on a girl Liam was financially supporting. This was a first. Never before had anyone felt the need to warn her about another woman.

At the wedding, just as we were right in the middle of exchanging rings, my fiancé, Ethan Nash, stepped away from the altar. “I just need to take care of something. I’ll be right back.” Before I could say anything, he had already hurried away. Everyone watched as he walked straight to his childhood friend, Ruth Trew, opened her water bottle for her, and then rushed back. “No harm done, right? It only took ten seconds.” I stood there frozen. I had actually believed something was wrong. My heart had been in my throat. Perhaps, to him, Ruth came before everything. It was just like the ten minutes everyone had to wait so she could be in the photo, or the two hours I had to wait while he took a detour to pick her up from work. I did not know how many more moments like that were ahead of me, be it a dozen seconds or ten minutes, ten hours, ten days, or even ten years. The officiant, Marcus Oakley, looked grim. He tried to lighten the mood, but nothing he did could save it. “Well, the groom has left the altar for a moment. Umm...” I took the microphone from him. All it took was ten seconds. At that moment, I was done. I did not want to get married any longer.

After I announced that my boyfriend, James Lane, and I were getting married, his childhood sweetheart came after me again. She dumped an entire bucket of chicken blood over my head, turning my pristine white wedding dress a hideous dark red. Lily Zane stood there watching me without the slightest hint of fear. She knew she could get away with it. Instead of backing down, I looked at James, who had been silent the entire time. "Are you calling the police, or am I?" This was already the ninth time this year. She'd rammed my car, slapped me, and harassed me online. Any time I dared post anything about James, there was always some new form of torment waiting for me. James had begged me to let it go, so I'd swallowed it again and again. Not this time. I dialed 911 without hesitation. James, who hadn't lifted a finger until then, suddenly snatched the phone from my hand and smashed it against the floor. Pieces went flying, and his face was dark with anger. "Are you seriously making this a big deal? It's just a bucket of chicken blood!" Calmly, I wiped the blood from my face and nodded. "Yes, I am, James. And the wedding's off."

On my thirtieth birthday, Levi Maddox's childhood friend sent me a screenshot of her latest post. She'd tagged it at an amusement park. In the photo, Levi was bent down, tying her shoelace. The caption read: "Somebody said thirty-year-old women are way too boring. Taking a little kid like me out to play is so much more fun!" I stared at the screen for a long time. I didn't like it, and I didn't reply. Less than five minutes later, Levi called. Amusement park music played in the background, and Tessa Wynn was shouting beside him that she wanted cotton candy. Levi sounded casual. "Saw it? Tessa insisted on coming. If you're willing to swallow your pride today, admit you were wrong, and promise you'll never check my phone again, I'll rush home tonight and cut the cake with you." I knew this was his usual trick. Every time we fought over his total lack of boundaries, he'd run off to Tessa. He'd take her to the movies, on trips, dress in matching outfits with her, and then sit back, smug and superior, waiting for me to break down and give in. He'd once said, "Only when you see me with someone else will you learn to rein in that scary need to control everything. Besides, Tessa's like a little sister to me. It's not like you'd really be mad." Tessa always played along sweetly, too. "Sienna, please don't be upset. Levi just sees me as a little sister." On the other end of the line, Levi was still waiting for me to say, "I was wrong. Please come home." But as I looked at the birthday dinner going cold in front of me, I suddenly felt bone-tired. "Don't bother rushing back. "I'm thirty now. "I'm done being your nanny."

On college decision night, my entire family crowded around my twin sister, Lily. My brother Ethan pulled up a map of Boston and compared the distance between her dorm and his campus. Ryan, my childhood best friend, gave up his place at McGill because Lily admitted she was scared to start college without someone familiar nearby. My parents couldn't have been happier. Now Lily would always have someone ready to take care of her. It took them most of the evening to remember that I had a decision to make too. "Nora has always been our independent one," Mom said, choosing for me without so much as looking up. "She can go to UMass Boston. It's close to Lily, so she can help out on weekends." No one asked which schools had accepted me. No one knew there was still an offer from Scotland sitting in my inbox. If they had never planned to let me have a life of my own, I no longer owed them updates about it. I turned my laptop away from them and accepted my place at the University of Edinburgh. For once, I chose the place farthest from all of them.

After Yvonne Preston's childhood sweetheart, Oliver Emerson, hits someone while drunk driving, she gets on her knees and begs me to take the fall for him. "Ollie's father saved my life. Can't you endure this for my sake? Once you get out, we'll get married." I nod with tears in my eyes, only to discover after entering prison that my two-month sentence has been turned into six years. I attempt to retract my statement, but all I get in return is a brutal beating. "We've been told to keep a close eye on you. Who the hell do you think you are? You should take a good look at yourself before you start thinking you have a chance with Ms. Preston!" I'm beaten until my eyes are red and swollen, and the last thing I see before I lose consciousness is Yvonne holding Oliver's hand on television as they announce their engagement. My heart turns to stone, and after six agonizing years that feel like an eternity, I'm finally released from prison. However, as I quietly board the train with my luggage, Yvonne's assistant, Juliette Parker, appears in front of me. "Ms. Preston wishes to see you, Mr. Clark," she says respectfully.

Nikolai Edevane and I had grown up together in a psychiatric hospital. We were childhood sweethearts who had known each other since we were young. Everyone in our circle said the Edevane family had raised a pair of vicious monsters, and no one dared cross us. "Anthea, monsters that crawl out of Hell are meant to stick together. Neither of us will ever be allowed to leave the other." On Nikolai's birthday, I helped him complete the final piece of his business empire. What I received in return was news that our twin sons had died in a car accident. The chauffeur had been drunk and fled the scene. On the eve of the trial, Nikolai set off fireworks across the entire city to celebrate his "recovery." Then, he took a pregnant woman by the hand and brought her before me. "Daphne is the only light in my life. She saved me. This ends here! Stop making a scene!" My eyes were bloodshot with grief and rage. "Nikolai, your sons died!" Nikolai said quietly, "Our sons may be dead, but you still have me. You still have your status as Mrs. Edevane. We'll have plenty more children in the future. However, Daphne only has her father left in this world."