Feel-Good Story Romance Short Stories & Face Slapping Novels

My girlfriend, Natalie Charlton, had one rule about everything. We always split the cost. She believed nothing ruined a relationship faster than taking advantage of each other. She insisted that if we wanted to stay together, every expense had to be calculated and settled fairly. For four years, we split every meal, bought our own movie tickets, and divided the cost of our Valentine's Day gifts. Whenever she bought me something, she asked me to transfer half of the money back to her. Once, I came down with a fever of 102.2 degrees and called to ask if she could pick up some medicine and bring it to me. She sounded irritated over the phone. "You are a grown man. You have a fever, and you still need your girlfriend to bring you medicine?" "Did we not agree that we were each responsible for ourselves? Why should I pay for your illness?" I braced myself against the wall and made my own way to the pharmacy. After that, I learned to stop asking for anything. I convinced myself that a mature man should never trouble his girlfriend. Then, just before our graduation trip, I borrowed her tablet to look up travel information. I accidentally tapped into her photo album. It was filled with screenshots of old orders. Couples' packages, two movie tickets, VIP passes for two to music festivals, and limited‑edition sneakers. The notes beside them repeated the same words. "He likes this." However, the person she bought all those things for was not me. It was my best friend, Ronald Larkins. The earliest order dated back to our first year together. I took screenshots of the pages, then canceled my own plane ticket. After four years together, the final thing Natalie taught me was this. Never ask again, and never look back.

After eight years of loving him in vain, my boyfriend, Gilbert Hughes, finally proposed. The wedding is set for a week from now. However, just as I'm happily preparing for it, I accidentally overhear a conversation between him and his friends. "I have to give it to Gilbert. The moment he proposes, his first love, Cheryl, gets restless." "But now that Cheryl's back, what are you going to do with your girlfriend?" Gilbert pauses for a moment, then replies casually, "It's fine. I'm not actually going to register my marriage with Jennifer. At worst, I'll just hold a wedding and play along." At the party the next day, he wraps his arm around me dotingly and socializes with our guests. Yet, the moment Cheryl Manning runs out in tears, he instantly lets go of me and chases after her in a panic. I follow quietly and watch them embrace tightly in the dark, kissing each other deeply. With my heart completely shattered, I turn away and dial a number. "Want to get married? I need a groom."

I was made the subject of an explicit AI deepfake video that skyrocketed past twenty million views across the internet. On the day I set out to file a lawsuit, everyone came together to block my path. My childhood friend trapped me in the foyer, arguing, "Penelope, don't act impulsively. The video quality is blurry anyway, so nobody online can confirm it's really you. Filing a lawsuit is basically hand-delivering a public confirmation." My best friend snatched the legal documents out of my hands and tossed them straight into the trash. "I looked into it, and the account is hosted overseas. Even if you go to the police, they won't trace it, and the case will just sit in bureaucratic limbo forever." Even my older sister called, her voice dripping with self-serving indignation. "Mom and Dad aren't in good health. Don't go making our family a laughingstock for the whole town!" I wiped away my tears, and the moment they let their guard down and left, I rushed straight over to my boyfriend's apartment. Sam was a practicing lawyer; I knew he would support me in fighting for my rights. Yet when I opened the door, I froze. Sam's childhood friend, Ruby, was leaning into his chest with tear-rimmed eyes. "I really didn't mean to do it. I just typed the wrong AI prompt, and it somehow got generated like that." Sam was wrapping his arm around her, softly reassuring her, "It's really no big deal." Meanwhile, my best friend and my childhood friend were drinking on the couch, looking completely relaxed. "If Penelope hadn't barged into the picture back then, the person standing by your side would've been Ruby all along." "Exactly. She took someone else's place for years. It's about time she learned a lesson." I stood frozen in place. It turned out the culprits who destroyed me were right beside me all along while I had been kept blind to the truth.

It was no secret that Frank Leclerc, the gang leader, was severely allergic to women. I was the only exception, which was why I was his fiancée. Unfortunately, a university student whose life he had saved refused to believe his condition was real. She relentlessly stalked him and clung to him at every opportunity. After her 99th attempt to sneak into his bed, Frank ordered his men to abandon her on a nearby snow-capped mountain. That same day, an avalanche struck, and she was presumed buried beneath the snow and missing. The news drove Frank mad. He rushed to the mountain himself and disappeared while searching for her. Not long afterward, a video went viral online. It showed Frank and that woman locked in a passionate kiss at the mountain's summit. Overnight, I became a laughingstock and the butt of everyone's jokes. Well, his allergy finally caught up with him that night. Gravely ill and pale as death, he looked at me and whispered, "She just... wanted to bear a child... for herself. Don't trouble her..." I sneered. Why the hell should I care about whatever pathetic reason she had? He had made one very critical mistake. He believed I had no other option but to marry him. The truth was quite the opposite. He was the one who depended on me. Too bad for him. The moment he threw himself into that search party, I had already found myself a new beau.

I have been reborn on the day Sierra Shepherd regains her memories. I watch as the butler hands me a check and says, "Here's 1.5 million dollars. You can think of it as a reward for taking care of Ms. Shepherd during this time." His implication is unmistakable. He wants me to take the money and get out of her life for good. In my past life, as the Shepherd family hands over the check, I feel lost and uncomfortable. Sierra grips my hand firmly and says, "You should come home with me, Caleb. I'll protect you." I return with her to the Shepherd family without looking back because of her single promise. I block every scheme aimed at her, fight alongside her step by step, and help her reclaim control of the family. I have helped her until the day she holds her wedding banquet with Mason Lund, who instructs the Lunds to kidnap me and throw me into the sea. Sierra only responds coldly after hearing the news of my death, saying, "He was just a guy using past favors to try to climb the social ladder. He's better off dead." I snap back to reality and look at the check in front of me. I then say without any hesitation, "I'm afraid 1.5 million dollars won't be enough." I smile faintly as Sierra stares at me in disbelief. "I want 4.5 million dollars. I won't bother you and Mr. Lund as soon as I receive the money." I won't go back to being someone else's sacrifice since I have this startup capital. Isn't it much better to just focus on making money and living my best life on my own?

It was near the end of May when I got off my night shift and got a call from my younger self, right before the SAT. "Eight years from now, am I happy? Am I living abroad, or working at Collins Corporation? "Charlotte said I don't need the SAT. She's taking me overseas." He sounded excited, already planning to spend the next few days doing whatever he wanted. I looked down at the grease on my uniform. Behind me was a cramped factory dorm, a cramped room packed with 12 beds. "Charlotte's getting married today," I said. "But you're not the groom." He sucked in a breath. "That's impossible. She said she'd marry me." Last night, Charlotte Collins texted me. [Don't come tomorrow. You work at a factory. You'll embarrass me.] His voice caught. "Who is it? Do I know him?" I said calmly, "Open the math worksheet in your bag. Finish it, and I'll tell you who she's marrying."

On the day after proposing to me, Edward Harrington takes his first love, Lily Monroe, on an overseas trip. All that's left is a note on the nightstand. "Lily has been wanting to travel to Marinova for the longest time. I'll spend a few days with her there before coming home to marry you." As I stare at the low-quality ring Edward has purchased from a convenience store at the very last minute, I can only smile silently. Well, it turns out that the so-called "a few days" ends up being 1095 days. Three years later, Edward and Lily return to the country in a high-profile manner. The first thing Edward has done is to seek me out and request that I become their bridesmaid. "Audrey, I couldn't resist Lily's charms, so I slept with her once. But she got pregnant right away." Guilt flickers across Edward's face. "The doctor said Lily can't get an abortion. Otherwise, she won't be able to get pregnant anymore." Upon noticing my silence, Edward suddenly leans down and starts peppering kisses down the side of my neck. "The wedding is just a show for the elders in our families. Trust me, Audrey. Once Lily gives birth to her baby, I'll divorce her and marry you right away." That's when I shove Edward off me forcefully. Then, I roughly dab a piece of wet tissue over the patch of skin Edward's lips have touched. Scott Miller, my CEO husband, is extremely domineering and possessive. It's only thanks to him being on a business trip these few days that Edward has the chance to get close to me. If Scott were to find out about the truth, neither Edward, Lily, nor their unborn child can think about surviving at all!

When I was reborn, Horace was pressing me down on the bed. His phone rang with a piercing ringtone, interrupting him from undressing me. After seeing the caller ID, the desire in his eyes instantly disappeared. Throwing a random bath towel on my body, he said, "Leave. My new girlfriend doesn't like it when I smell like someone else." Without another word, I got dressed and left without any complaint. In my past life, I wasn't willing to leave, and clung onto him, throwing away all my dignity, and I even became crippled after saving him during a car accident. As I wished, I became his wife, only because he said, "Let's have a baby. Then, even if I was no longer around, our child would be able to take care of you." I endured several life-threatening medical crises during my pregnancy, but then I overheard him talking to Vivian, "Vivi, you'll be saved once the kid is born." "But that's you and Rose's child, isn't it? Wouldn't she get mad if she knew?" Horace's voice was ice-cold. "I only let her live because she could still give birth. Did she think that I'd fall for a cripple?" In my anger, I pulled out my oxygen tube, and both I and my baby died. Now that I was reborn, I would never walk the same path once more.

I'm a born egotist. I never spiral or beat myself up over anything. If someone screws with me, I screw them right back. As a kid, my parents always favored my elder sister. One Children's Day, they bought her a cake and got me nothing. I flipped the table and smashed the cake into a complete mess. "Who are you trying to bullshit? If you can't afford two kids, don't have two. If you're that broke, why didn't you just get sterilized back then?" In high school, my cousin snatched one of my toys. My aunt said that he was still little and that I should let him have his way. I didn't even bother holding back. I kick him so hard that he howled in pain. "He's not my kid. Why the hell should I baby him?" After enough incidents like that, everyone around me learns not to test me. When I grew up, I got engaged to Liam Zeller, my childhood sweetheart. But the day before the wedding, I caught him cheating on me with my best friend, Mia Shaw. Liam leaned back against the couch and drawled, "Erica, I'll be honest with you. I'll admit I really did like you before, but after being with you, I realized you're just way too selfish. Any man who stays with you would lose his mind. You really ought to reflect on yourself once in a while." None of that got to me. I straddled him and slapped him across the face over and over again. "You knew I was selfish and still had the balls to cheat on me? You've got some nerve!"

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?"

In Reychelle City, a contest was held to crown the most beautiful woman. After my cousin scarred my face, she seized first place with ease. What she never expected was that this year's contest wasn't for fame; it was to select the future wife of the Third Prince, a ruthless, bloodthirsty eunuch. That very afternoon, gifts poured in by the cartload. My betrothed panicked. That night, he tore up our engagement contract and carried my cousin into the bridal chamber. The next day, she trailed her lacquered fingertips across my cheek and sneered, "Alicia, with your ruined face, who would ever want you? Perhaps the beggar at the street corner might take you in." I caught her wrist, let out a cold laugh, and said, "Who told you I would marry a beggar?" Before her stunned eyes, I pushed open my parents' chamber doors. "Mom, since Maggie doesn't wish to be the prince's consort… let me take her place." Three years later, before the eyes of a shocked court, the Third Prince entered the grand hall with me at his side, with two children in tow. No one had foreseen it. This body of mine, blessed with the rarest gift of fertility, was the perfect match for a man believed incapable of siring heirs.

I arrived at yet another family gathering to see Declan Mercer's assistant sitting in my seat. I turned to him. "She's sitting in the hostess's seat. Do you really have nothing to say?" He looked at me like I was wasting his time. "You showed up late, so don't blame her for taking your spot. There's an empty seat right there. You can sit there, or you can get out." I was about to respond when Declan's inner voice flooded my head. "Come on, babe. Get mad already. "Tell me you need me. Tell me you want to sit next to me. "Prove to me that you love me. That's the only way I'll feel secure." This time, I did not give his inner voice what it wanted. I simply looked down and slid the ring off my finger. "If there isn't a place for me at this table, then I suppose I'm not needed here anymore. "Let's get a divorce."

I worked night shifts for three straight months, finally saving enough to cover the cost of a bone marrow transplant for my fiancé Vance Dalton's younger sister, Margot. When I arrived at the VIP ward with a bank card containing $300,000, I saw Vance leaning down to kiss his so-called sister. My best friend, Bridget Lewis, was standing beside them, recording the whole thing on her phone. "Margot, that stupid woman just sent another $50,000. Your European vacation fund is fully stocked." Bridget giggled beside them. "Of course she did. She eats expired instant noodles every day and still thinks she's out there saving the world." I stared at them, gripping the freshly signed house-sale agreement so tightly that its edge cut into my palm.

The company had just taken off when a project my wife, Lenora Peterson, was in charge of ran into trouble. To ease her mind during her pregnancy, I went overseas in her stead, spending ten perilous years abroad before finally returning home, barely alive. Instead of the joyful reunion I had imagined, she greeted me with cold detachment and thinly veiled disgust. "Why are you back?" Lenora asked. "Today is Nathan’s housewarming party," she added. "Let’s head there first—we’ll talk later." We rode in silence the entire way. When we arrived, a ten-year-old girl came dashing over and clung to Lenora affectionately. “Mommy, why did you take so long? Daddy’s been waiting for you forever!” Daddy? My eyes burned with rage—until I saw my old friend Nathan Grant stepping out to greet us with a smile. "Lily, come to Daddy. Mommy’s tired—don’t bother her now." When I met Lenora’s eyes, the guilt I saw there told me everything I needed to know. I turned away and texted my assistant, Morgan Williamson, to begin acquiring the company that, by right, had always belonged to me. He soon reported back. "Mr. Brooke, the acquisition process will be completed in three days."

I was an employee of Starmax Group, the country’s business giant, and the husband of its president, Willow Lawrence. To keep our love untainted, I refused every shortcut she offered me and stubbornly chose to work my way up from the bottom, determined to prove through my own abilities that I was worthy of her. Until Jasper White came along. He was more handsome than I was and had a more tragic past. The way he pretended to be strong easily brought out Willow’s instinct to protect him. Thus, Willow personally gave him the promotion meant for me at the most pivotal moment in my career. Afterward, she offered me hefty ‘compensation’. I did not argue or make a scene. I accepted it all with a smile, completely at peace with the outcome. Because from that moment on, Willow was no longer my lover. She was simply my ‘top-tier investor’ and a reliable ‘human ATM’.

I was the lowest-born black serpent in the Serpent Clan, yet the Dragon Court's most honored crown prince chose me as his bride. He gave up his betrothal to my sister, surrendered his place as heir, and walked away from the Dragon Court for me. I was moved beyond words and became his wife. But after I gave birth to only a black serpent, he flew into a rage. He crushed our baby beneath his foot, then killed me with a single strike of his sword. As I was dying, I saw hatred burning in his eyes. "If I'd known you were this useless, I should've married your sister!" Only then did I learn the truth. I was the woman of fate named in the Dragon Court's forbidden book, the one born with primordial blood. If I gave birth to a primordial child, he would be able to secure the dragon throne. When I opened my eyes again, I had returned to the day of the bride selection. This time, Adrian chose my sister, the woman who had given birth to a golden dragon in our previous life, without the slightest hesitation. I laughed and chose a lowly worm servant instead. Adrian didn't know that I truly did carry primordial power. He was simply born with a broken essence. Without me, he was meant to die childless. In this life, I would give birth to the true primordial child. And I would make sure he never inherited the Dragon Court.

After my husband cheated on me for the 99th time, I finally completed my collection of 99 Hermes bags. That was just his way of compensating for his guilt. I was a high school advisory teacher, working from 8 a.m. to 4 p.m. every day. After going home, I took care of his parents, who were both paralyzed and bedridden. To outsiders, I was a perfect wife. He figured he could keep me in the dark for the rest of his life. Little did he know, the mistresses he chased for a thrill were all arranged by me.

My wife, Valerie Larson, had a congenital heart condition. Despite that, she still wanted to have a child with her first love, Eugene Dyer. I refused without a second thought. Ten months later, Eugene's mother, Susan Turner, passed away. Her eyes were still wide open as if refusing to accept death without ever holding her grandchild. Overcome with guilt for failing his mother, Eugene took his own life in his small, rundown apartment. Valerie, consumed by grief and anger, took us on a road trip, only to crash the car head-on into a truck without hesitation. She shouted, "It's your fault Eugene died! If you had let me give him a child, he never would have ended up like that! His whole family is gone, so yours doesn't deserve to live either!" When I opened my eyes again, I found myself back on the day Valerie first asked to have Eugene's child. This time, I forced a small smile and said, "Darling, go ahead. Our whole family will support you."

Due to my outstanding work performance, my boss grants me special permission to have flexible working hours. I am out until very late last night meeting a client, and I have only been asleep for a while when a call from my colleague wakes me up. "It's already 9:30 am! Why are you late again today?" I explain to her patiently that I worked overtime last night to finalize things with a client and have them sign the contract, so I won't be going into the office in the morning. My colleague snickers. "You'd better not think that you can skip work whenever you like just because you've achieved top sales in our department. "Today is our boss' son, Mr. Hammond's first day in the office. He might just tell you to pack your things and leave if you were to upset him in any way!" Despite the splitting headache I'm having, I try to recall it in my head. Alex Hammond, the man she's just mentioned, sounds very much like that fiance of mine, who desperately wants to tie the knot with me.

I spent countless sleepless nights developing a breakthrough drug for a devastating illness, and I expected at least some recognition from my CEO girlfriend. Instead, she accused me of wasting the company research budget and promoted a newly hired young assistant to oversee the company finances. It was the middle of a brutal heatwave with temperatures that soared past ninety-eight degrees. The assistant locked the lab air-conditioning controls away so no one else could use them, while he shut himself inside his private office with the AC set to sixty degrees. He wrapped himself in a blanket and played video games. I complained to my girlfriend, and she brushed it off as part of building company culture. She claimed she gave him authority for my own good because she believed it would prepare me for a future management position. According to her, I was too narrow-minded to understand her intentions. She then shut off the lab main power supply and locked the control panel as if she wanted to teach me a lesson. The fans stopped working, and the heat grew worse. Several coworkers collapsed from heat exhaustion and were taken to the hospital. The assistant posted photos of himself and my girlfriend at an indoor ski resort. They wore winter jackets and ate ice cream together. The caption read, “Some people are sweeter than ice cream.” I finally understood everything. Her idea of company culture had never been anything more than an excuse to favor him. Everyone expected me to confront her or demand an explanation. I packed up my things instead. She mistook my silence for obedience. She believed her air-conditioning punishment had worked, and she promised that once she returned from closing her business deal, she might consider letting me enjoy the AC again. She did not know that when she shut down the lab power, the research equipment stopped running. The drug we had just finished developing became unstable, and the experimental data was destroyed. By the time the delivery deadline arrived, there would be no formula left to hand over. She would face a catastrophic breach-of-contract lawsuit and enormous financial penalties. Without access to the medication in time, she would also suffer permanent long-term complications from the illness we had tried to treat.