Plot Twists Romance Short Stories & Childhood Sweethearts Novels

Chelsea Fischer's childhood sweetheart, Patrick Goldstein, loves fighting with me over everything. After I get reborn, I realize that I can never win against Patrick. So, I decide to attach price tags to everything I own. Since Patrick loves taking over Chelsea's front passenger seat under the guise of getting carsick easily, I slap a price tag onto the front passenger seat immediately. "That'll be 100 thousand dollars per year. If you decide to continue the subscription, you'll get a 20% discount." Patrick has his eye on my project proposal. As soon as Chelsea knocks on my office door, I say to her without even looking up, "Wire me 500 thousand dollars, and I'll change the project lead's name to Patrick's as soon as I receive the money." On the day of my daughter Callista Hammond's birthday, I reschedule all of my work matters so that I can hurry over to the kindergarten to pick her up. But Callista tells her teacher, "He's not my dad. I'm not leaving with him." While we're stuck in a stalemate, Patrick arrives at the kindergarten with the gift I've prepared for Callista. That's when Callista rushes over to hug his leg. "Take a good look, miss! This is my actual dad!" Chelsea is about to provide an explanation to me when I extend a hand to Callista. "Give me five million dollars, and I'll make sure that he gets your custody by the end of today."

When applying for colleges, I give up a prestigious university for Priscilla Reed's sake. But in the fifth year of our relationship, I break up with her. I see her outside the dorms, diving into Jeremy Stark's arms and tilting her face up to kiss him as no one else matters. Priscilla sneers at me. "You're just some farmer. What kind of life can you possibly give me?" She seems to forget that the Chanel dress she wears and the Hermès bag she carries are things I bought for her. That's the moment I end things with her. Let someone else play the doormat. I'm done. After that, I focus on farming, even managing to grow crops on the moon. Then, the press reveals who I really am—the son of Javonbury's richest man. Jeremy's father comes to me, bowing and scraping. He even forces Jeremy to kneel in front of me so that he can beg me for a partnership. Priscilla's eyes are red and swollen as she tugs on my sleeve and tells me she regrets everything.

After an extreme dust storm swallowed half the mall, I was searching for my missing daughter when I received a call from Evelyn Mercer five years in the future. [Ryan, you have to do exactly what I say. I'm the only one who can save my little girl.] Without hesitating, I led the rescue team to the collapsed section she named. Sure enough, I heard a weak child's voice. I shouted in relief, "Thank God for you, Evelyn! I found her!" Evelyn laughed softly. [That's right. I came back to fix a regret.] But when the rescue crew lifted the concrete slab, the child they pulled out was not my daughter. It was the daughter of Evelyn's childhood sweetheart, Marcus Hale. I froze. Evelyn, however, sounded relieved. [Five years ago, Marcus lost his daughter and nearly broke. After that, he only had me. That night, we ended up together.] [I'm sorry, Ryan. I came back to fix Marcus's regret.] [Our daughter is buried on the other side of the mall. Hurry. Go save her.] When I rushed back, Evelyn's future voice was smug. [Well? Was she there?] I looked at my daughter's body, already cold and breathless. Then I clenched my fist and hung up.

The day I decided to marry the heir to one of the East Coast's wealthiest families, my ex-boyfriend Jack Harris showed up in my dream again. This time was different from all the others. He was on his knees in front of me, sobbing until his voice gave out. "Nora, I regret it." "Won't you come back to me?" The old me would have softened. But this time, I woke up and only wanted to laugh. For ten years I thought I dreamed of him because I couldn't let go, that I was pathetic for it. Then my best friend, a therapist, told me a colleague of hers had picked up a very strange client, a man who'd sold off everything he owned to learn a form of hypnosis that let him control people's dreams deeply. That man was Jack Harris. His wife was Vivian, the classmate who'd bullied me for years. The three of us had grown up together, childhood friends from the same small town. He'd tormented me for ten years, dumping me a different way in my dreams every single night, all to keep Vivian happy. And now he had me listening to his confessions in my dreams. It wasn't his conscience turning over. It was so I'd kill myself, so my heart could be transplanted into Vivian whole and undamaged. What he never imagined was that I'd found out everything ahead of time. This time, I was going to watch this rotten pair destroy themselves, one rotting away in his dreams, the other rotting in a hospital bed.

A week before our wedding, my fiance, Michael Gordon, secretly accepts a classified government job. He departs in a hurry, only leaving me with a simple, "Wait for me." Hope and expectation fill me as I hear that. Yet, for the next three years, he spends his monthly visitation day with someone else. Even when my mother falls terribly sick and I'm in desperate need of money; even when I cry heartrendingly just for a chance to meet with him or make a phone call, the only response I receive is the guard's exasperated message. "Mr. Gordon has already used up his visitation day. Please wait for the next month." Dejected, I get ready to leave. However, in the next second, Michael's childhood sweetheart, Liliana Zink, easily gains entry. "Mr. Gordon specifically instructed us to bring you straight to his office. He really does treat you very well. It's been a year since your breakup, yet he still worries about you being in a bad mood and spends his visitation days with you." As I move to rush inside again, the guard hastily stops me. "Don't even think about it. As if Mr. Gordon could possibly have any money. All his allowance goes to Ms. Zink." That night, I can't even afford to get Mom any painkillers. This is all my fault for being so useless. Nevertheless, I don't want to wait any longer. At last, Michael completes the project and returns, but I'm already married to someone else.

The day I found out that my pilot husband, George, had given our wedding band to his widowed childhood sweetheart as a talisman, I changed his contact name to Captain Tanner. When I was suffering from a severe stomach bleed, George got a call from Tammy, saying that her son had woken up from his sleep, missing his late father. Without another word, George walked out on me. He promised to be there for my follow-up appointment, but he was quick to change his flight for Tammy because she was afraid of the thunderstorm while at the airport. I snapped a photo of my medical evaluation and texted, “Have a safe flight, Captain Tanner.” It was the same old reply. “Quit acting up. Tammy and her son have had it tough enough.” Later, he booked our favorite restaurant to slip the ring back onto my finger in celebration of our seventh wedding anniversary. Before we could get inside the establishment, the call from Tammy came in. “George, I’m scared. Can you pick me up? Liam said that you’re the only father he’s got…” George took one look at me and opened his mouth to explain. I handed the ring box to the server. “Please dispose of this for me.” I then turned to him. “Captain Tanner, your passengers are waiting.”

During our engagement banquet, Samuel Hill, my fiance, has the nerve to put our marital home up as a prize in an anonymous draw. Nathan Ziegler, my childhood friend, smiles and says, "Samuel prepared this surprise for you, Charlotte." Ultimately, Naomi Sutton, Samuel's first love, gets the marital home from the draw. I, on the other hand, receive a box from Samuel's assistant, and inside it is a photo of the three of us. There is even a message on the back. "I hope that you remember that the three of us grew up together." In that instant, everyone in the room falls into silence. Samuel wraps an arm around Naomi's shoulder and says, "It's just a game, Charlotte. You're not going to make a big deal out of it, are you?" Nathan tries to reason with me as well. "Naomi just returned from abroad, so she doesn't have a place to stay. You should let her have it for now, Charlotte." I later notice a message on Samuel's phone. It was from the host of the banquet. "Mr. Hill, per your instructions, Ms. Sutton gets the marital home, and Ms. Gardner gets the keepsake." Samuel merely replied, "Got it." I smash the framed photo right at Samuel's feet in front of everyone and say, "The engagement banquet is canceled." I refuse to go along with this performance designed to humiliate me.

I'm burning with a 104-degree fever in the middle of the night. I groggily reach out, wanting my boyfriend, Joshua Sanders, to get me a glass of water, only to feel cold sheets. I unlock my phone out of sheer habit, and the first thing I see is Joshua's message, pinned at the top of the list, sent three hours ago. "Lynnie just had her heart broken, so I'm going to keep her company. I left the antipyretics on the nightstand. Remember to take it when you wake up." I force my weak body out of bed, pour myself a glass of water, and take the medicine. However, the words on the box clearly read, "Menstrual pain relief." To make matters worse, it's the brand his childhood sweetheart, Lynn Nelson, always takes. I calmly set the medicine back in its original place and take a cab to the hospital on my own. It's time for this five-year high fever called "love" to finally break.

A sudden burst of screams erupted in the living room at 3 AM. I pushed open the door to hear the commentator announcing that my fiancé Noah Lucas' favorite team had advanced to the quarter-finals. Our best friend, Jessie Newman, jumped up excitedly and kissed Noah on the cheek. I would be taking wedding photos with Noah in another five hours. The hangover soup on the table had long since gone cold, with a cigarette butt floating in it. I could not help coughing. The two of them froze mid-conversation. Jessie realized what it looked like and stepped over the wine bottles on the floor with her fair legs. She hugged me and kissed me on the cheek, too. Her voice was gentle and innocent. "Lola, why are you awake? Don't overthink. I've been best friends with Noah since kindergarten. We were just messing around! Noah was too noisy, wasn't he? I'll teach him a lesson for you." Noah casually tossed a cushion at her, hitting her squarely on her bottom, and teased with a laugh, "You're blaming me? You were the one shouting!" Then, he nonchalantly reassured me, "Lola, we're about to take our wedding photos soon. Go and get some more sleep. We'll turn the volume down." There was no apology or explanation. They were just trying to brush me off, as always. They assumed I was being paranoid and petty, tainting their 20-year friendship by overthinking. I loosened my grip on my nightgown. "It's okay. You guys continue." I had had enough of this three-person farce. I was done.

I'm just about to cross the street when the pedestrian light starts flashing. I hesitate, unsure whether to make a run for it. Wendy Sherman, my girlfriend, and Sawyer Young, my close friend, have already crossed to the other side. I'm the only one left behind after the pedestrian light changes to red. They reach the other side of the street without looking back at me once. A black car speeds past, splashing mud onto my pant legs before I finally react and take a step back. I have always been a little slow ever since childhood. I'm the last one to finish my meal and the one walking behind everyone else. Wendy and Sawyer worried I would fall behind in my studies, so one explains the questions to me while the other takes notes for me. They eventually end up leaning close together, arguing for the rest of the afternoon about geometric auxiliary lines. I remain sitting beside them, unable to get a word in. They insist on coming along to help me screen places when I go apartment hunting. They both grab a brochure from the real estate agent and walk together, talking about commute times and how much natural light the apartments get. Sawyer casually reaches over and helps Wendy carry her handbag. Wendy glances up at him, smiling and joking as they walk along. I end up as the one constantly trailing behind, watching their backs. That's when I suddenly get it—only people who move at the same pace can cross on the same green light, and the ones moving a beat too slow have to wait for the next light by themselves. I step forward and walk onto the crosswalk as the pedestrian light turns green. If I can't keep pace with them, I'll walk on my own from here on out.

On our fifth anniversary, I booked out the rooftop lounge to propose to James. Everything was set. Roses, champagne, candles. The only thing missing was him. Then my phone buzzed with a text from an unknown number. “Don’t bother waiting. He’s across the street buying a ring for his childhood sweetheart.” I laughed. Thinking it was a sick prank, I just looked out the window. Directly across the street, in the glass window of a luxury jeweler, James was sliding a diamond ring onto another woman’s finger. My phone vibrated again. “I confessed to you three years ago. “Knowing this now... Will you marry me?” ---

I always thought Danny was just bad at showing how he felt. He called me a pain, but he carried me to the nurse’s office when I was doubled over in pain. He complained I was needy, but stayed on the phone with me all night whenever the lights went out. So when he told everyone, “She’s just my annoying neighbor. I’ve always seen her like a little sister,” I made excuses for him. Until the night it poured. I watched him lean his umbrella over Maya while letting his own shoulder get soaked. He never turned back to check on me once. My mom called a minute later. “Are you sure you want to turn down that study program in London?” Watching Danny shield Maya from the rain, I finally let go. “Mom,” I said. “I’m taking it.” ---

The most spineless heiress and the most arrogant heiress in Jindale happen to come from the same family. When my half-sister, Sienna Thomson, holds my head over a toilet bowl, the fleeing wealthy heir, Daniel Lowe, shoots clean through both of her hands. "She is the future mistress of Jindale! No one touches her!" Spiteful to her core, Sienna doubles down on tormenting me while sabotaging Daniel at every turn on his path to power. Daniel fights tooth and nail for ten years. On the very day he finally claims the throne of the Lowe family, he books a luxury suite to propose to me. Yet when I push open the door, I find him naked in bed with Sienna. Everyone gasps in shock. After all, it's no secret that Sienna is our common enemy. Sienna sneers, brazenly flaunting the red marks all over her body. "Daniel, don't tell me you mistook me for Charlotte again. You're as sharp as a tack tonight. You handed that Eastia project to me on a silver platter, didn't you? How long are you going to keep fooling yourself? You like a powerful woman. You can't stand a weakling like Charlotte." A faint smile stays fixed on Daniel's face, yet he doesn't deny it. Amidst collective gasps, he casually picks up the ring and tries to slide it onto my finger. But I hold back my hand. I just ask, "You once told me that the moment you were in charge, I could do whatever I wanted with Jindale. Does that still stand?" He freezes, assuming I will yield as I always have over the last decade, and nods with a smile. "Of course." I smile too.

Three nights before my wedding, I called my fiancé, Garrett. A version of him from five years in the future answered. I couldn't keep the happiness out of my voice. "Are we happy together? Has your mother finally accepted me?" A long silence hung on the other end before a low, tipsy chuckle came through. The laugh was faint, the kind you'd use to humor a naive child. "Vivi, in the last five years, you've asked me for a divorce more times than I can count." I froze. "...What do you mean?" "It means you found out about me and Kiera." My breath caught. I couldn't believe it. "My sister? I thought you couldn't stand her." He let out a quiet sigh. "Vivi, saying I couldn't stand her was just my way of hiding how I really felt." "Don't worry, I won't divorce you. We made our vows at the altar, after all." A chill ran through me. I wanted to press further, but a lazy little giggle drifted through from the other end. "Garrett, who is it?" He murmured something in response and hung up. A second later, a message from Garrett popped up on my phone. [Vivi, our wedding is almost here. You're happy, right?] [I'll be good to you for the rest of my life. If I ever break that promise, I don't deserve to live.]

30,000 emergency meals meant for the disaster-stricken area were all sent to the incinerator as hazardous waste. The order to destroy them came from the deputy chief of the Health Department, Joanne Shea, my wife. The whistleblower was her childhood friend, Kevin Stafford, who claimed to be a retired undercover journalist. This was already the third time he had targeted my company. The first time, he reported my truck for illegal parking. Joanne then forced me to issue a public apology. The second time, he conducted an undercover investigation and accused me of violating packaging label regulations. Joanne issued a fine without hesitation and ordered my company to undergo a month-long rectification. Each time, Joanne has sided with him, using me as an example for others to learn from. This time, with water and electricity cut off in the disaster area, I rushed supplies there overnight only to be blocked at the entrance once again. Holding the certification of compliance, I pleaded, “The front lines can’t wait. If anything goes wrong, I’ll take the blame with my life!” However, Joanne coldly waved me off. “Kevin is a journalist. He would never take the disaster area lightly! Destroy the supplies immediately!” Two days later, the lab report confirmed that the food met all standards. However, the emergency rations had already been destroyed, and the “‘Poisoned Meals for Disaster Relief” scandal had spread like wildfire online. The company faced a widespread online boycott, and major clients terminated their contracts overnight. Joanne looked at the lab report. She felt guilty but still kept her arrogance. “I guess Kevin misjudged the situation, but he meant well.” I found it all hilarious and slipped off my wedding ring. “I’ve given you three chances. Let’s get a divorce.”

My fiancé’s childhood sweetheart Vivian knew about my deadly asthma. She secretly mixed strong liquor into my drink. Fire poured down my throat. Then, my airway clamped shut. Panic hit me. My hands shook as I dug out my emergency inhaler. But the spray hitting my lungs wasn't medicine. It was strong mint spray. She had swapped it. The second I inhaled, my airways slammed shut. Lack of oxygen drained my strength. I collapsed onto the floor, pathetic and weak. "Aria, this is mint spray I specially prepared for you. It can give you an effective energy boost." Vivian said, rushing over with a look of innocent concern. She crossed her arms, her possessive eyes locked onto my fiancé—Silas Thorne, the CEO of Thorne Group. "Silas, is Aria practicing for a play? I've been a top private doctor for years. I've never seen anyone react to mint spray that strongly." I bit my inner cheek hard. The taste of blood filled my mouth. Cold sweat stung my eyes. I gripped Silas’s pant leg tight. "Please... Silas... ambulance... I can't breathe..." Real panic flashed in his deep eyes for a second. He leaned forward instinctively. But the mocking voices from the executives around us stopped him cold. "Come on, stop pretending! Nobody dies from a bit of beverage and mint spray." "Yeah, she's just throwing a tantrum. Vivian was appointed as the Chief Medical Officer of Thorne Group today, and Aria is clearly jealous." Silas’s jaw tightened. He forced down the worry in his eyes. He ruthlessly pulled his leg away from my twitching fingers, taking a cold step back. "Vivian is a doctor. With her here, you won't die." I stopped begging. I used my last breath to text my father，the President of the Federation.

My wife's the captain of an ocean freighter, spending ten months of every year at sea. I've always trusted her completely, though I have one quiet habit nobody notices. Every time her ship docks for resupply, I invite the first mate's husband out for a couple of drinks. The first mate is the silent type, but her husband talks too much and can't hold his liquor. We chat about everyday life, what goes on aboard, and by the third round, he leans in close and says, "Your wife's so romantic. Last month when the ship docked in Beauhaven, she found a local craftsman to custom-make a full set of wave-patterned men's accessories. "A watch, cufflinks, tie clip, the works. She even had them sent back on the supply ship. I'm honestly jealous." I say quietly, "Really? I never got anything like that." I don't push it, and he's smart enough to change the subject. That night at home, I open the voyage ledger. On the Beauhaven supply manifest, the delivery address listed next to the accessories isn't mine. The storms at sea never end. It's time for me to get off this ship.

Years after graduation, I walked into a college reunion with a freshly printed wedding invitation in my hand, ready to give it to the man across the table. His eyes turned red as he asked me a question. "Do you remember an upperclassman named Derek Ashford? The one who brought you breakfast every morning and spent hours with you in the library?" I smiled and shook my head. He pressed on. "Do you remember running two miles through a downpour for his birthday? He said he'd love you forever." I frowned instinctively, my hand pausing halfway across the table with the invitation. Nathan Sterling, the boy I'd grown up with, came over and slipped an arm around my waist. "Who's Derek Ashford?" I leaned into Nathan's shoulder and lifted our clasped hands for everyone to see. "Let me introduce you all. This is my husband, Nathan Sterling." The moment those words left my mouth, every pair of eyes in the room turned to the man who had just knocked over his cup of tea. Tea dripped off the table edge onto his pants, but he didn't seem to notice. His gaze was locked on the diamond ring on my finger. His reaction baffled me. Six months earlier, Derek had brought Selene Dawson, his graduate advisor's daughter, back to the apartment we'd prepared for our wedding. She claimed to have amnesia. I ran out into a rainstorm and was hit by an out-of-control truck. When I woke up, every memory of Derek Ashford was gone. The only person left in my world was Nathan Sterling, my childhood sweetheart and the man I had come to love all over again. We had just made it legal at the courthouse.

On my fifth birthday after getting together with Kimberly Rivers, I sit at a table filled with dishes that have gone cold, just like I have for the past few years. Much like she did last year, Kimberly promises to celebrate my birthday with me this year, but then she goes back on her word. This year, her excuse is that her childhood friend, Gregory Morales, has invited her and several of her best friends to appear in his glamor shoot. Hence, she stands me up once again and runs off to him without any hesitation. At 11:00 pm that night, Gregory uploads a photo onto his Instagram and sets it so that only I can see it. In the photo, four women in skimpy bikinis are partially kneeling around a man who stood with the unshakable confidence of truth itself. The attached caption read, "I want more than just your heart—I want your body too." I take a screenshot of the photo, then send it to the boyfriends of Kimberly's three best friends. Since they look down on me so much, they'd better hope that they won't need to come begging me on their knees in the future.

I’m Chloe. Daughter of the richest man in the world. I spend money like water. To stop me from blowing his fortune, my dad put me on a strict allowance. But right before my engagement party, he made an exception. Handed me a black card. Told me to pick out my own wedding jewelry. I went straight to Manhattan. To the most exclusive, biggest rough diamond trading center in the US. Because real top-tier jewels? You don’t just buy them. You bid for them in blood. I spotted a flawless rough pink diamond. It had this faint, perfect glow. Just as I picked it up, smack! A hand slapped mine hard. It stung. I dropped the stone. "Don't touch what you can't afford. You break it, can you pay for it?" “Five hundred thousand. Wrap it up. Now.” I frowned and looked over. A woman in a designer evening gown was rubbing her hand with disgust, as if she’d touched something filthy. Before I could even speak, a staff member snatched the stone right from me. "Right away, Miss Mia! I'll wrap it up for you!" I actually laughed from sheer disbelief. “Excuse me? That's daylight robbery.” Mia folded her arms and looked me up and down with a sneer. “Robbery?” “I’m Liam Astor’s childhood sweetheart. He's the heir to Wall Street's biggest empire. Around here, whatever I want, I get.” “So who the hell do you think you are, calling that robbery?” Liam. At the familiar name, I raised an eyebrow. Wasn’t he the fiancé my father had forced on me? I pulled out my phone and dialed. "Liam. Your little childhood friend is trying to steal my wedding jewelry in public. Are you going to handle this?"