Feel-Good Story Romance Short Stories & Devotion Novels

The Langston brothers once vowed that they wouldn't marry anyone but me. However, when it's time for me to pick one of them as my husband, they both turn me down. Nigel says, "My career is my priority. I'm not considering marriage at the moment." Shawn says, "Sorry, but I haven't had enough fun yet." Shortly after, they make my asthma act up during my engagement party just so they can please their new princess. As I writhe from the lack of oxygen, they cover her eyes so she won't see. They also mock me, saying I won't die from this. That kills me inside. When I wake up in the hospital, I call my father. "I'll marry the heir of the Blackwell family."

What a small world. As Elaine Johnson was checking in at the hotel front desk, she happened to bump into Jasper Carter's young mistress —a girl who looked like an innocent college student. She was dressed in a simple white cotton dress, pure and demure, with a shy, sweet smile. "Hello, here's your room key. You'll be staying in the executive suite on the top floor," the receptionist said. "Thank you, miss," the girl replied softly, taking the key. Just then, her phone rang. Elaine overheard her speaking bashfully to the person on the other end: "Mr. Carter, I... I'm already here. When will you be coming?" Her tone was soft, a little nervous, filled with affectionate anticipation. A moment later, Elaine heard her add, "Mhm, I'll wait for you. No rush. Please drive carefully, Mr. Carter." The girl's voice was so sweet and tender, it could have melted anyone's heart. Elaine could not help thinking that her husband had good taste — the girl was young and beautiful, gentle and thoughtful, the kind of woman any man would find hard to resist.

My boyfriend has depression. To help cure him, I pass on the opportunity for a recital abroad. Instead, I accept commercial gigs so I can rake in the cash. After one performance, I see my boyfriend holding hands with a woman who looks like me in a private room. He wears a sharp suit and smiles so brightly that he doesn't even look ill. The people around him cheer and tease him. "You really are different with your true love back in the country. When are you two going to make things official?" "I heard you'd been dating another woman for seven years, though. Do you love her?" Charles Foster smiles indifferently. "I was just having some fun with her. Only an idiot like her would take me seriously." I sob with devastation while hiding behind a door. Suddenly, I feel like a fool for spending seven years with him. I call my mentor, who suggested that I take part in the international piano competition. "I will take part in the competition."

When my father's business collapsed, he racked up an astronomical debt to the Andor family. And when they finally came knocking, he did what no loving parent should ever do—he collateralized me, his only daughter, handing me over to Cassian before vanishing off the face of the earth. For ten long years, I stayed by Cassian Andor's side. He treated me with a tenderness so indulgent it bordered on worship. There was nothing I asked for that he would not give; there was no whim of mine he would not entertain. Everyone in our world knew me as his princess. I grew up believing with certainty that once I came of age, he would sweep me into his arms, march me down the aisle, and make me his wife. But reality—cold, brutal, and as dazzlingly cruel as the world we lived in—had other plans. Instead of the ring I had dreamed of, Cassian gifted a breathtaking pink diamond—the very symbol of eternal devotion—to his assistant, Heidi Torres. As if that wasn't betrayal enough, he threw a lavish celebration in her honor, a veritable explosion of flowers. He knew I was deathly allergic to pollen. Yet he still left me stranded there, drowning in a sea of blossoms. Eventually, I collapsed in a violent asthma attack, gasping and clawing for air, teetering on the edge of consciousness. And Cassian? He merely tightened his hold around Heidi in his arms and cast me a cold glance. "Your allergies have been fine for ages," he said with a sneer. "Why the sudden drama today? Don't tell me you're faking it." At that moment, as I lay there humiliated and struggling to breathe, I realized there were exactly seven days left until my twentieth birthday since when I could register a marriage.

At the coming-of-age ceremony my sister and I shared at twenty-one, our father produced two marriage contracts. One came from the ducal House of Beaumont. A century-old line with power beyond measure, whose heir Alexander was composed, wealthy, and the dream of every unmarried girl in Saint-Vérain. The other came from the bankrupt Moreau family. Their estate mortgaged, creditors at the door, their heir Elias had nothing but a handsome face. In my last life, my sister Vivienne chose Alexander first and left Elias to me. Later, she was caught in an affair, and the Beaumont family confined her for life under the name of "psychiatric rest." Elias, with my help, climbed from ruined nobility into City Hall and became the youngest chief secretary to the mayor. Vivienne didn't hate the in-laws who destroyed her, or the husband who was cold to her. She hated only that I lived better than she did. The day I visited her, she smashed my skull with a silver candlestick. When I opened my eyes again, we were back at the moment of choosing. Vivienne snatched the Moreau letter and said smugly, "Little sister, this time it's my turn to be the wife of the rising star of politics." I looked at her and smiled. She didn't know that in the last life, the one who had truly raised Elias to high office was never fate. And that Alexander, who had never touched her, had never been cold by nature. He had simply married the wrong woman.

By year four of our marriage, Scott had picked up a college girl—Gigi. Bright, beautiful, full of life. She had him, a billionaire, eating street food and chasing after her favorite esports player. Scott called. "Not coming home. Watching Joel Arnoult's match." Beside him, Gigi scoffed. "That boring old woman—does she even know who Joel Arnoult is?" They had no clue. The second the call ended, Joel had me pinned in the back of a dimly lit car. His teeth grazed my neck—sharp, teasing, a little painful. "Leila, if I win, how are you gonna reward me?"

My childhood sweetheart has aplastic anemia and desperately needs a bone marrow transplant. His brother agrees to help, but there's a catch. "I can save him, but you need to marry me." My lover ultimately dies because of medical negligence. I'm heartbroken but still marry Martin Steinfeld per my promise. During the wedding, he gets on one knee before me. His gaze is loving as he says, "I'll treat you well for life, Audrey Lynch. I'll be a thousand times better than Henry; I won't let you shed another tear." I look at his face, which is so much like Henry Steinfeld's. I believe him. Three years after our marriage, I'm five months along when I stumble upon Martin with his mistress. He wraps an arm around her and sighs. "She still can't forget about that dead guy despite us being married for so long. She's not like you, who only has eyes for me. "If not for her insisting on marrying Henry and ruining my future, I wouldn't have had to take my own brother down so much earlier than planned." My blood runs cold, and I tremble all over. Hatred consumes me, and I only have one thought—I have to destroy Martin!

On my 30th birthday, my boyfriend of seven years asked to meet at the City Hall. He even told me to bring my ID and wear a wedding dress. But when I showed up just as he asked, he was laughing and looked really excited. “Pay up, pay up! I told you all. No matter how embarrassing it is, Wrenna will always do what I say!” I just looked at him wordlessly. Matthew Young raised his eyebrows at me. “Come on, it was just a joke. You’re not mad, are you?” When I stayed quiet, he got annoyed. “Alright, alright. I said I’d marry you, and I will. Just not right now.” His good-for-nothing friends started laughing and making fun of me. They said I was his simp and would never get angry. And they were right. I was not angry. I did not come here today for him anyway. After everyone left, I walked into the City Hall. “Sorry I’m late. Let’s go get married.”

At my wedding, a video of my fiancé cheating was exposed. I didn't make a scene; just turned around and walked away, left him to clean up the mess himself. I went back to my room and kissed my younger boyfriend. We were halfway through when we got interrupted. My fiancé stormed in, face red with shame and rage. "Is this really the time? All you can think about is kissing?" I smacked my lips, still savoring the moment. "Weren't you the one who introduced us?"

At the banquet, the most wanted bachelor of Rivenport announced that my stepsister was the woman he truly wished to marry. Without hesitation, I stepped aside and married Simon Barker, who had been pursuing me for years. Our married life was filled with love and happiness. That joy lasted until I finally became pregnant, when I discovered he had been slipping contraceptives into the milk he gave me every night. I also found a custom diamond necklace he kept in his safe that was labelled "For proposal", but the engraving bore my stepsister's initials. It became clear that I had only ever been an obstacle he needed to remove for the woman he truly loved. All those years, he had pretended to love me, but he was just using me as a stepping stone for my stepsister's bright future. No matter how blind I had been before, now I was fully awake to the truth. With a consent form for abortion and a divorce agreement in hand, Simon and I became strangers forever.

The night before graduation, my best friend Sophie talked me into confessing to Lucas Sterling, the boy I'd secretly loved for three years. She said Lucas was at the basketball court, wearing a white T-shirt. I gathered every ounce of courage I had, grabbed the bouquet of roses, and rushed over. I came up behind a boy and covered his eyes with my hands. "Lucas, I've liked you for so long!" I felt his body go rigid. He turned around — and the face staring back at me was dangerously handsome, with a wild edge to his gaze. It was Dominic Blackwood. The one person at Westfield High that nobody dared to cross. I spun around to run, but he grabbed my arm and pulled me against his chest. He dipped his head, breathing in the scent of my hair, his voice rough and low. "What did you just say? That you like me?" "Say it again." "If you don't, I'll kiss you right here in front of the whole school."

After my father passes away, my mother—now married into the wealthy Hawthorne family—brings me to live with them. Everyone laughs, saying I'm being groomed to become either of the Hawthorne brothers' bride. Even I start to believe it. But later, when I try to marry one of them, both reject me. The older brother says, "I'll need to marry for business one day. Why would I marry her?" The younger one scoffs. "She's older than me. Who'd want an old woman?" But the very next day, the two of them propose—together—to my assistant. I instantly become a joke. After that, I call my mother. "Mom, I'm willing to marry into the Grant family."

I brought my son, who was around a year old, to visit my parents’ graves, only to run into my childhood friend’s mother. She asked me whether I had returned because I was no longer angry. “Yelena, you’re finally back! You must’ve returned to marry Niel. “I’ll make sure your wedding goes smoothly this time. I won’t allow any random person to ruin it!” Niel Stalner was my childhood friend and ex-fiance. During my engagement party, Cloud Stalner, his foster sister, had barged in while wearing the same gown as I did. She also said that she would kill herself if Niel refused to leave with her. The guests burst into a ruckus, and in the end, I was left alone in the venue. Everyone criticized me, and Niel’s family abandoned me. Eventually, I left the country like a dog with its tail tucked between its legs. I smiled at Neil’s mother, Iris, and pushed the baby stroller forward. “Iris, are you seriously telling me that Niel hasn’t married Cloud yet? Anyway, Michael, say hello.”

For eight years I was Ethan Black's right hand, his ride-or-die. Then I finally married him and became Mrs. Black. Three months into the marriage, I deliberately shredded one of his contemporary art pieces, a million dollars gone in a few clean strokes, all because his eyes had lingered a second too long on the new intern. Before Ethan could lose his temper, lines of text bloomed in the air in front of me, telling me I was nothing but the villainess in someone else's novel. [This woman's completely lost it. Does she really think Ethan married her out of love?] [He keeps his old buddy around as a human shield to protect his real love. Once she's served her purpose, he ships her off to a psych ward.] [Watch, the male lead's about to slap her.] I stared hard at the man coming through the door. But when Ethan reached me, he didn't even glance at the ruined canvas. He grabbed my hand instead, his voice almost pleading. "Babe, does it hurt? Did it feel good, ripping it up? If that wasn't enough, there's another hundred of them in the storage room."

During a company retreat to Colmar, I found out my boyfriend was going to propose at sunset, surrounded by colleagues. Instead, in the golden light, he dropped to one knee with a ring in hand in front of someone else. “Lana, I’m ready to be the father of your child. Will you marry me?” Lana, the woman Mark had loved for ten years, his unforgettable first love. I stared at the two, watching them embrace. Then I quietly turned away, booked myself a trip three days out, and went home for an arranged date. A year later, I ran into him again when I returned to the country. Mark’s eyes were bloodshot as he grabbed my wrist. “Rosie, you’re finally back. Don’t leave me again…”