Plot Twists Romance 단편 소설 & Childhood Sweethearts 소설

The temperature starts to drop once we reach the top of the mountain. My two childhood friends, who swore to protect me with their lives, don't even spare me a glance. One is hastily wrapping all his clothes around Lisette Locke, while the other is warming her with his body. I'm so cold that my heart condition acts up; I beg them to save me. However, they're infuriated by this. "How can you still be trying to get our attention at a time like this, Cecilia? Run around for a while if you're cold!" "We'll buy you that white down jacket you wanted when we get back, but you can't take it from Lise now!" The rescue team arrives, and I barely make it out alive. I'm hospitalized for a week, but neither of them come to visit me. I see from my social media that they're busy celebrating Lisette's birthday. We've been friends for over a decade, yet I mean nothing when compared to the driver's daughter. I call my father and say, "Dad, "I'm willing to marry into the Jorgensen family!"

Every year at the Grant family's Christmas charity ball, their unmarried daughter's first dance always opened the auction. By tradition, the man who won the dance was expected to marry her. Everyone was waiting for my childhood sweetheart, Lucas Reed, to raise his paddle for me. The auctioneer called for bids three times. Lucas never raised his paddle. Just before the gavel fell, Lucas's phone rang, and he walked straight out of the ballroom. In the dead silence that followed, Adrian Holt raised his paddle. "The Holt family will cover any shortfall in tonight's fundraising." Eight point seven million dollars. With that one bid, he closed the gap on the whole night's fundraising. Then he walked over to me and held out his hand. "If he doesn't want this dance, give it to me. "Elena, I fell for you the moment I saw you." Six months later, I married him. Adrian was good to me after the wedding. He taught me how to invest and brought me in on the Holt Group's key projects. When my father's company was on the verge of bankruptcy, he handed over all the cash he had and didn't even ask for collateral. I was scared of thunder, so on stormy nights he held my hand until I fell asleep. Even when he didn't get home until four in the morning, he always looked in on me before anything else. He used to say, "Elena, the best thing I've ever done in my life was raise that paddle." I believed him for two years. In our second year of marriage, I was kidnapped on my way home from a trip. I was gone for three whole months. When I finally came back, I was pregnant, and Lucas, who had just rescued me, stood at my side. And the husband I'd loved for two years pinned me to a hospital bed with his own hands and killed our baby.

After five years of harboring an unrequited love for Lara Lawson, I am physically and emotionally exhausted. So, I marry my childhood friend, Celine Young, instead. To the outside world, Celine and I are the perfect couple. We share a wonderful life together and eventually welcome an adorable baby boy. I regard her as someone who has been by my side my entire life. But one day, I turn on her phone and discover two unsent messages. "If you want, I can divorce him immediately." "You're the only man I'll ever love." As it turns out, what I thought was my salvation is nothing but a cruel joke. I am nothing but a convenient stand-in. And to make matters worse, even my own flesh and blood is on her side. Heartbroken, I cut off contact and walk out of their lives without a trace of hesitation. After I leave them, they begin to panic. "Can you please stay, honey?" "Please don't go, Dad."

“Have you decided, Alara?” Mason Whitmore slid the agreement across his desk. “Of my four sons, which one will you choose?” Ten years ago, I saved his life. He brought me into the Whitmore family and made me a promise: when I turned eighteen, I could choose one of his sons as my fiancé. The man I chose would inherit the Whitmore company. Everyone thought I would choose Ethan. He was Mason’s eldest son, a champion race car driver, and the boy I had loved for years. Then I heard him tell Jenny: “Alara was never my choice. I only said I’d marry her to keep my father happy.” So I made my decision. Not Ethan. Not Julian. Not Ryan. I would choose the son they all ignored. Noah Whitmore. The one in the wheelchair.

At our friends' get-together, my girlfriend, Delilah Stallard, casually stuffs her half-eaten ice cream into the mouth of her childhood sweetheart, Noel Weston. Everyone around us instantly exchanges awkward glances. My best friend looks furious as he asks me what I'm going to do about it. What else can I do? Naturally, I give them my blessing. "Why did you even bother to look for a boyfriend? You two might as well just date each other."

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."

I once believed mutual respect was the bare minimum in a political marriage. My fiancé, Cassian Blackwell, Duke of Northmere, proved how foolish that belief was. On the day of our engagement ceremony, his childhood sweetheart stole the necklace I had chosen and threatened me with the Blackwell protection crest he had personally given her. I called Cassian and asked him to handle it. He hung up before I could tell him who I was. When he finally arrived, he ordered his guards to force me to my knees and gave her permission to do whatever she wanted. She slapped me, kicked me, and cut off my hair while Cassian watched without lifting a finger. To him, I was nothing more than a bargaining piece my family had offered for an alliance. What he didn’t know was that the Blackwells had surrendered three of their richest estates for the privilege of marrying me—or that my brother was the Crown Prince of Aurelia. Ten minutes later, the royal guard sealed off the street. Only then did Cassian realize the woman kneeling at his feet was Aurelia’s only princess—the bride his family had sacrificed everything to obtain.

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."

When I wake up, I find out that my childhood friend, Brandon Moore, is the one lying next to me instead of my husband, Jake Watson. Angrily, I berate Brandon for betraying his wife, Rachel Schneider. But he asks me in confusion, "Aren't you my wife? Are you rambling drunken nonsense, or are you having a fever? "Rachel is already married and has a child of her own. Don't go around pinning the bigamy crime on me for no reason!" I'm stunned, to say the least. Brandon and Rachel are a loving married couple, and yet here he is, telling me that they aren't married at all. Just as I'm about to call Brandon a jerk, I raise my head to see the wedding portrait. It features me and Brandon. Cold sweat soon rolls down my forehead. I ask Brandon tentatively, "Then… do you still remember my husband, Jake Watson?" In the past, Brandon used to be best friends with Jake. Both families even have a betrothal pact with each other. But Brandon angrily accuses me of cheating on him with another man. He even claims that he doesn't know Jake at all. The thing is, Jake and I have been married for ten years. How the hell is it possible for Brandon to not know Jake at all? Thinking that Brandon is lying to me, I show Jake's photo to my parents and everyone around me. They all tell me that they've never seen Jake before, and they even claim that Brandon is the one I've been married to for ten years. I refuse to accept this reality, which causes me to go dazed all the time. Gradually, I go crazy overtime. Because of that, Brandon files for a divorce from me. My parents soon admit me into a mental hospital. After dying a terrible death from the electric therapy, I open my eyes to see that I've returned to the day Brandon becomes my husband.

The day she found out about the tumor, Noemi Rosales made one wild choice—she'd give her corneas to her blind husband, Daniel Gomez. Quietly. No spotlight, no drama. Too bad Daniel only cared about Ivanna Lopez. He ate up every lie she fed him and iced Noemi out like she was nothing. "I want you out of my life." Cool. Noemi could do that. "Ms. Rosales, are you certain you want Mr. Gomez listed as the cornea recipient?" "Yeah. Give them to him. Once I'm gone, the hospital can use the rest of me for science or whatever." She scrawled her signature. "Don't tell him."

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?”

On Christmas Eve, my childhood friend's mom suddenly laughed and tried to set me up with her son, George Allen. My face flushed hot, and I was about to tell her we’d actually been secretly dating for two years. However, before I could even open my mouth, George cut me off in a panic. "Mom, stop playing matchmaker! I already have a girlfriend. In fact... we’re planning to get married this year." He gave me a guilty look. "Madison, you should hurry up and find someone too. Don't waste your time..." Tears stung my eyes, nearly spilling over. So this was the real reason he had insisted on keeping our relationship a secret all this time. Biting my lip until it bled, I forced back the tears and managed a cold, breezy smile. "What are you talking about? My boyfriend and I are actually planning to get married this year, too."

On the day of my prenatal checkup, my husband's childhood sweetheart, Maya Crane, volunteered to drive me to the hospital herself. Halfway there, she suddenly let out a cold laugh. "Lara Quinn. You don't deserve Mason Sterling. "You don't deserve to carry his baby." My heart dropped. I clutched my stomach and tried to jump out of the car. However, before I could move, she jerked the steering wheel–sending my side of the car straight toward an oncoming truck. The truck swerved at the last second. Her side slammed into the guardrail. Maya was dead at the scene. I was hemorrhaging, and the baby almost came too early. In her last breath, dying in the wreck, she sent Mason a message. [Mason… Lara did this to me on purpose…] The police investigated for half a month and ruled me innocent. Mason grieved, but he stayed by my side, caring for me with obsessive tenderness while I recovered. The day I was discharged, he took me to the seaside. Then he shoved me into the ocean. His voice was cold and merciless. "Don't think destroying the evidence means you're safe. You caused her death. Pay for it with your life." The sea filled my lungs. And when I opened my eyes again–I was back to the day of my prenatal checkup.

After being reborn, I stopped preventing Rachel Jackson from having any contact with her childhood sweetheart, Logan Cole. She gave Logan all her salary to pursue his dream, while I used the money I earned through hard work to invest. She got pregnant and gave birth to a child for Logan in the hospital, so I bought a train ticket to leave the small town. Later, she said she would agree to marry me as long as I agreed to adopt Logan's child. Unfortunately, I had already made my first million dollars by relying on the memories of my previous life. In this life, I chose to fulfill their wishes and enjoy a good life myself.

Caleb Lawson's childhood sweetheart, Yvette Grant, is pregnant. No one knows who the father is. Caleb decides to claim the child as his for the sake of her reputation. Meanwhile, my child turns into a bastard whose father is unknown. "Yvie has always been obedient—getting pregnant out of wedlock is too cruel a fate for her. She won't be able to accept the criticism and mockery." His simple explanation turns our five-year relationship into a joke. Later, my family bring me to the hospital for an abortion. Caleb stays by Yvette's side, caring for her like she's a precious treasure. By the time he gets home, I've already aborted the baby and left him.

For our ninety-ninth engagement ceremony, Julian booked us a skydive. He said he wanted to tell me he loved me at thirty thousand feet. My chute didn't open. I got tangled in a big tree. I survived, yet suffered multiple fractures all over my body. In the ward, I accidentally saw a message on the screen of our jump instructor's phone. It was addressed to Julian, and it carried a video. The video showed someone tampering with my chute before we boarded. So the "accident" was Julian's idea? I dragged myself out of bed on crutches, every bone in my body screaming, ready to confront him. I made it as far as the hallway. He was already there, talking to someone, and the moment I saw the other man, the floor tilted under me. The man across from him was the same driver who'd hit me with his car the night before our last engagement. The hit-and-run that should have killed me. "Mr. Veil, if you ever need me again, please reach out." Julian's voice was flat, almost tired. "There won't be a next time. I've tried everything I can think of. The engagement can't be postponed anymore." "And the woman you actually love, sir?" "I'll keep loving her," Julian said. "But Ada is the one I marry. Her mother gave my father a kidney. That's the debt. I have to pay it." I stood there shaking, and the truth rearranged itself behind my eyes. The camping trip he had planned, where I got lost and nearly died of hypothermia in the woods. That had been him. The vitamin C he had handed me, the one that put me in the ICU. Him too. And this time — the skydive, thirty thousand feet, “I want the sky to witness our love”. All of it. Every single one of those accidents was him trying to delay the wedding. But Julian, I thought, I could save you the trouble. The next morning I accepted an offer that had been sitting in my inbox for weeks: an invitation from a world-class orchestra on the other side of the planet.

When I propose to Hailey Morgan for the 18th time, she turns me down for the sake of her childhood friend, Eric Dawson, once again. We've been dating for eight years. So far, I've proposed 18 times to her. But whenever the proposal takes place, Hailey keeps saying that Eric is depressed, so she can't leave his side. As I look at the ring, I can't resist asking, "If Eric is depressed for the rest of his life, does this mean you won't marry me in this lifetime?" Hailey gets mad at me right away. She snatches the ring before throwing it at the floor. "He's my childhood sweetheart! I can't just ditch him, can I? Besides, you've already endured my rejection 17 times! Can't you just keep enduring it for my sake?"

My husband, Matthew Glover, fabricates a scandal to help his childhood sweetheart, reporter Melanie Reed, boost her numbers. "Mrs. Glover Sleeps Around—Multiple Affairs Lead to Repeated Miscarriages." He uses it as a gimmick to grab attention. Next thing I know, my name's in the mud and the internet's tearing me to pieces. When I bring up divorce, Matthew says I'm blowing things out of proportion. "Melanie just started at the TV station. If she doesn't deliver, her coworkers will laugh at her. You're just doing her a favor. It's not like you're actually losing anything." I don't even bother arguing with him. I simply push the divorce agreement toward him. "If you want to help her, go ahead. But we're getting divorced!"

My boyfriend, Hugh Specter, is the best psychologist in town. I struggle with severe anxious attachment, and he tells me I need to undergo exposure therapy. The treatment is designed to gradually break my dependence on him for comfort. For the first week, I'm not allowed to initiate physical contact. The second week, hugs longer than three seconds are forbidden. The third week, I'm not allowed to text him while he's working. The fourth week, all physical contact is off-limits. I'm supposed to learn how to soothe myself instead of relying on him. I follow every rule. Whenever anxiety hits, I bite down on my pillow and force myself through it. I fill an entire journal with reminders to stay calm and reassure myself. At the start of the fifth week, I arrive at Hugh's clinic early to drop off my progress report. I see him sitting on a couch at the end of the hallway, holding his childhood sweetheart, Sonia Rafferty, in his arms. He lowers his head and presses a gentle kiss to her hair, his thumb slowly stroking the back of her hand. "It's okay," he murmurs. "Hold on to me. I'm right here." I stare at the hand that has pulled away from me countless times, only to see it comforting someone else without hesitation. The receptionist lets out a quiet laugh. "Dr. Specter is usually extremely strict about professional boundaries. Somehow, Ms. Rafferty is the one person who always gets him to make an exception." So that's what his boundaries were. They were only reserved for me. I feed my progress report into the shredder, cancel the rest of my appointments, and delete his number. By the end of the fifth week, I finally complete my exposure therapy. Not because I've learned to resist the urge to depend on him, but because I've realized I don't need him anymore.

My husband, Michael Collins, has offered to buy his childhood sweetheart, Natalie Sweeney's virginity for ten million dollars so that she can afford to treat her cancer. I'm about to stop him from doing so when he begins berating me instead. "Natalie has always been prideful since young. If I were to give her money outright, she'd think that I was giving it to her out of pity. It'll bruise her ego instead. "Can you please be more sympathetic toward her? Must you feel jealous over such a small thing?" Instead of replying to Michael, I just smile and nod in agreement. What Michael doesn't know is that I, an infectious disease specialist, have already picked up on Natalie's weird symptoms. She doesn't have cancer at all—she actually has late-stage AIDS infection.