Feel-Good Story Romance Short Stories & Novels

It's been three years since I went against my family to be with my boyfriend, Marvin Stuart. At last, my parents have finally agreed to let me marry him. I rush back to our place at once, eager to share the news with him—only to end up overhearing his conversation with his childhood friend, Camellia Hough. "They're redeveloping the area where my family home is, and we're going to get a huge buyout payment! You can finally abandon that loser and officially be with me now," she declares. "You wouldn't have had to settle for being with her if my family hadn't gone bankrupt back then." Marvin agrees to it right away. "I'll lie to her, saying that my family is in debt, so that she'll break up with me. Let's get married right after that." I swallow down the words I'd been prepared to say and calmly enter the house. Marvin turns to me with a sorrowful expression. "My family owes a debt of five million dollars. I don't want you to have to suffer with me. Let's break up." I nod. "Sure." Soon after, I sent my parents a text. "You don't need to transfer the three buildings to Marvin anymore. Also, call off the redevelopment project on the south side of the city." Since Marvin wants to break up with me, I'll grant him his wish. As it stands, we've always been from two different worlds.

Since it's already the end of the year, the music app I use produces a report on the songs I've listened to in 2025. The keyword of my report is "resonance". Over the year, I don't spend much time listening to the songs on this app. My girlfriend, Sienna Fletcher, is the one who's been using my account this whole time. There's a row beneath the keyword that's written in a tiny font. "You had listened to this song with someone at 4:00 am on December 1st. It turns out that love can go beyond a night's sleep." My breath gets hitched in my throat. December 1st is my birthday. But that night, I had gone to bed at an early hour. Meanwhile, Sienna had left hurriedly after cutting my birthday cake with me with the excuse that she needed to pull an overnight shift at the company. For some reason, I tap onto the unfamiliar-looking profile that has been interacting frequently with my account with a trembling finger. Their keyword of the year is "favor". My heart skips a beat at the sight. Then, I tap on the details. "Over the year, you've listened to songs with this user 688 times in the middle of the night. Every time you do, it's a secretive conversation meant for your souls." The next thing I know, I receive a message from Sienna. "Babe, I need to work overtime tonight again. You don't have to wait up for me. Just go to bed early." At the same time, a new post is uploaded on the unfamiliar profile. It features a photo of two hands that are intertwined together. "I love working overtime with her the most. I want to listen to songs with her forever."

On the day of my wedding, I immediately recognized that the masked man before me, Wyatt Sterling, was an impostor. I said nothing. I smiled and went through with the ceremony. This was because, in my previous life, I had exposed the fake groom publicly, forcing Wyatt to return and marry me against his will. That very night, his childhood sweetheart and cousin swallowed gold and took her own life. When Wyatt heard the news, he showed no grief. He cursed her for dying. After our marriage, he treated me with devotion, or so it seemed. I poured money from my family into the failing Sterling family, helping him rise bit by bit. However, on the day I was seven months pregnant, he personally had me dragged to the top of Astraeus Tower, the tallest building in the capital. There was no warmth left in his gaze. "If you hadn't forced me to come back to that wedding, Becky wouldn't have died. "Anna, why should you get to live in peace and happiness? I want you to feel the same despair she felt when she died." Then he pushed me. From that towering height, I fell. My body shattered on impact. Two lives were lost. When I opened my eyes again, I was back there on my wedding day. This time, I pretended not to know and married the impostor. I wanted to see, without the Larson family's wealth behind him, how he planned to save a house already on the brink of collapse.

Right before the last full-length practice exam ahead of the SAT, my boyfriend, Blake Romero, who had always ranked in the top ten, somehow ended up with a score of zero. His eyes were red as he clung to me, his voice shaking while he said he had developed severe test anxiety. "Samantha, there's no way I'll get in this year. Can you stay back and retake the year with me? I can't do this without you." Looking at how pale he was, I almost gave in. On my way to the school clinic to grab him some meds to calm his nerves, I accidentally overheard him talking to a girl from a poor family. "Blake, what if Samantha finds out you're lying to her?" His voice turned soft, almost indulgent. "Relax. She loves me so much that she would give up anything for me. Even if she finds out, so what? Besides, her family's loaded. Losing a year won't matter to her. Arrington University only has two spots this year. As long as Samantha doesn't take the exam, those spots are ours." Standing outside the door, I felt as if I had just had a bucket of ice poured over me. So this was his plan! He was willing to ruin my future just to clear the way for the girl he really cared about. What he didn't realize was that Arrington University had only ever been my backup, something I chose just to stay by his side. Without him dragging me down, I could aim for something better.

I suspected my husband's young assistant had signed up for some kind of socialite training program, all so she could try to become his mistress. She didn't call him "Mr. Anderson." She called him "Cocoa" because he loved drinking mocha lattes. It was her way of making herself seem special. Whenever he assigned her work, she didn't even move. She would just throw him a flirtatious look, twist her body into some exaggerated pose, and say, "What, you need me?" with a pout. In the end, I couldn't take it anymore. I told Perry Anderson to fire her. The second I said it, Faye Dawson leaned right into his ear and whined, "I know, I messed up. Don't be mad. I'll give you a kiss and make it better, okay?" And somehow, Perry actually fell for it. He smoothed things over like it was nothing. "Honey, Faye's a socialite. That's just how she is. Try to be a little more understanding." Fine. If he wanted to protect that fake socialite and throw away the real one, then he could forget about the billion-dollar contract from my father.

The new junior researcher in our lab destroyed my antigen. Because of that, I could not submit my thesis. I lost my chance to study abroad. Three years of work gone, just like that. I was furious. I wanted to call the police, to have it investigated, to make sure she was held responsible. However, my fiancé stood in front of her, shielding her, and turned on me instead. "It's just a small experiment," he said. "Is it really worth making such a big deal out of it?" I nodded. "Of course," I said calmly. "After all, it was only an antigen that could treat your lupus. Definitely not worth making a fuss over." He froze on the spot.

Terrance Burgess slapped me in front of the entire company, all because I accidentally knocked over his assistant's vase. My five-year-old son, Claude Burgess, stood off to the side, clapping like it was something worth cheering for. Afterward, the assistant walked up to me while holding the bouquet the father and son had given her, showing it off right in my face. "So what if you're the wife? The one who isn't loved is the real outsider." I looked at her calmly. "Then you'd better watch yourself. If he can have you on the side, he can just as easily find someone else after you." I used to think I had a happy, complete family. Until Terrance's assistant came along and made me realize it had all been in my head. The love from that father and son had already moved on to someone else. That was the moment something in me went completely still. I called a number I hadn't contacted in years. "Dad, I want to come home and take over the family business."

For three years, I played the humble housewife to protect Gabriel’s ego, secretly using my power as the Pearl Group’s heiress to build his empire from the shadows. But at his victory gala, the man I made a King crowns another Queen—the woman who abandoned him when he was broke. "While others were just present," Gabriel sneers, his arm around his ex, "Anna was the fire behind my success." He thinks my silence was weakness. He thinks his contract was earned by merit. He’s about to find out that the humble woman he sidelined owns the very stage he’s standing on. I’m done being your sun, Gabriel. Enjoy the darkness—because by morning, I’m taking the light with me.

Everyone knew William had turned his back on the entire Jamison family for me. He refused the marriage alliance with the Wyndham family in public, and the Jamisons locked him up for it. He even lost his right to inherit. When they finally released him from the cellar, he collapsed into my arms, pale and shaking. "Stephy, even if I die, I will never marry anyone else." Later, the Jamisons relented. Since I could not have children, they agreed to let us be together on one condition: William had to give Elvira an heir. From that day on, he repeated the same words to me: "Just wait a little longer." The first time, I caught him and Elvira in bed with my own eyes and broke down on the spot. He held me and said, "Just wait. She'll be pregnant soon." The second time, after she safely gave birth to a daughter, he said, "Father still wants a grandson. Just wait a little longer." Hence, I kept waiting. I continued to serve Elvira. I saw the marks on her neck every day and said nothing. By the third spring, she finally gave birth to a son. I thought everything was finally over. But at the baby's one-month celebration, he suddenly went into allergic shock. Everyone decided I was responsible. William locked me in the cellar with his own hands. Then he looked at me with cold eyes and said, "Stephanie, no matter how desperate you were, you should never have hurt my child." At that moment, I finally understood how ridiculous I had been all those years. Thus, when the cellar door opened again, I called his father, Brent Jamison. "Didn't you always want me gone? Fine. I'll leave. But I'm leaving clean. And when I'm gone, William will never find me again."

I stumbled across an encrypted folder on my husband's phone, filled with photos of a little girl I'd never seen before. From newborn to first steps, sorted by month—two full years' worth. But the child in those photos wasn't our daughter. When I confronted him, he said she was a girl named Rosie from the children's home I sponsored. The director sent growth updates, and he'd been saving them for me. I never imagined that my warm, thoughtful husband would use my charity to spin a lie. Because every single photo was geotagged to the apartment complex next to his office. And the children's home was on the other side of the city. I didn't call him out right then. Because I wanted to know whose child she really was.

When I'm cleaning my home, I sweep out an extremely thin condom that has already been used from under the bed. The sight of it makes my heart sink to the pits of my stomach. I'm severely allergic to latex, so there's no way I would ever use such things. Just as I'm contemplating whether I should ask my fiancee, Shelly Hartman, about the condom, she sends me a voice message on WhatsApp at that moment. "Babe, I have a company dinner to attend tonight, so I won't be going home for dinner. I might be home later than usual. You can just go to bed early. There's no need to wait up for me. Love you so much!"

Five years ago, for the sake of my fiancee, Ellia Murdock, I went overseas alone to deal with all the obstacles her family faced. The day I returned, she sent a car to pick me up to attend her son's birthday party. She smiled and introduced me as her long-lost uncle, who was also crazy, in front of all the guests. Her son clapped his hands and exclaimed, "Mommy, I want to ride the crazy horse!" Ellia's smile vanished. Her voice turned cold as she ordered, "Jason, don't ruin Nial's fun. Get down." My heart jolted. I glared at her. "Ellia, you want me to let a brat ride me like a horse?" Right after I finished my sentence, her current husband slapped me across the face. "What's with the act? You're just a lunatic. Cut the nonsense." I touched my burning cheek and smiled. She had forgotten that I left to clean up her family's mess. I could clean things up, but I could make a mess too.

To help my younger sister, Emily Lambert, recover from her asthma, I went out of my way to buy a private island known for its pristine air. However, on the very day she arrived, someone kicked her so hard that they broke her ribs, and she called me crying. "Arthur, they're saying this island belongs to someone else! They're going to throw me into the ocean." Through the phone, I heard the island manager's harsh voice. "This island is a gift from Ms. Wynter to her boyfriend! Who do you think you are? You're just a trash picker, and you think you can just show up here?" Suddenly, everything clicked. My wife, Cassie Wynter, had a boy toy on the side, and he was now trying to take over the island meant for Emily's recovery. Well, that score needed to be settled. Cassie and I had been married for two years. In that time, she had transformed from a nobody in a third-rate family to a powerful CEO controlling the luxury goods market. Everyone said she had a gift for business, that she had the Midas touch. However, no one knew the truth: the exclusive royal supplier connections she wielded were resources I had risked my life for in the United Zahara. I dialed the Zaharan Royal Family. "Prince Khalid, it's time you repaid the favor you owe me."

Midway through the banquet, the clasp on Carrie Ellison's bra suddenly snapped open. I was just about to take her to the dressing room when she turned around, letting her childhood sweetheart, Gabe Allen, slip his hand inside her dress and fasten it for her. I frowned. Carrie rolled her eyes, completely unconcerned. "Why are you getting jealous over nothing? Back then, Gabe even used his teeth to undo my bra clasp. What's the big deal about him fastening it now?" That very day, news of the "perfect childhood sweethearts" shot to the top of the trending charts. After the banquet, Carrie didn't receive my apology. Instead, she received my resignation letter. In front of everyone, she splashed champagne in my face. "It's just fastening a clasp! Do you really have to nitpick and make me look bad?" I said nothing. I simply placed the divorce agreement I had just drafted in front of her.

The ER had taken in over a dozen patients on New Year's Eve. Yet, my widowed sister-in-law had called my husband into the on-call room to breastfeed him. When I caught them in the act, Diana hurriedly straightened her rumpled top, her face flushed with embarrassment. "Amber, please don't get the wrong idea. I was treating Elliot! He thinks I'm his late mother. He comes to me to relive his childhood every night. I've gotten used to it." Elliot Cladwell showed no trace of guilt as he remarked, "Diana has been doing everything she can to help me with my adult attachment disorder. As a doctor, you of all people should understand." I smiled and quietly stepped aside, giving them space. What I didn't say was that I had just activated the system's wish-granting function. Since Diana wanted so badly to be his dead mother, I might as well help her fulfill that wish.

At the celebration dinner, my wife lifted her glass and drank on behalf of her male assistant. I overturned the table without hesitation, then walked out and called my lawyer to draw up the divorce papers. By that night, she had already received notice. She would be leaving with nothing. She called right away, fury in her voice. "Are you serious? You're divorcing me over a single drink?" "Yes," I said. "Over that one drink." I would not tolerate betrayal. Not even a hint of it.

While I was in the middle of getting intimate with my boyfriend, Hendrick West, a sudden burst of laughter came from under the bed. A chill ran straight through me. I shoved Hendrick away, scrambling to get up and check, but he pushed me right back down. "You're spacing out at a time like this? Guess you don't get to leave this bed today." I didn't question it. I let myself get pulled back in, eyes slipping shut as I tried to relax. Then the bedframe slammed loudly from underneath. I yelped and shrank under the blanket. A second later, his best friend burst out from under the bed, laughing like it was the funniest thing in the world. "No wonder you've been ditching us lately," Linda Fairbank said, grinning. "If I had such a horny girlfriend, I'd forget my friends, too!" The humiliation hit so hard that my face went pale. But Linda didn't care. She reached over and started tugging at my blanket. "He won't stop going on about how soft and full you are. What are you hiding for? Let me take a look." Hendrick finally stepped in, trying to stop her when she went too far. Linda just smacked his bare backside without hesitation. "I've been stuck under that bed forever waiting on you," she said lazily. "And instead of taking care of me first, you're busy standing up for someone else?" Without missing a beat, Hendrick took her calf into his hands and started massaging it. She shot me a smug, challenging smile. I picked up my phone and called Hendrick's mother. I said evenly, "Julie, are you aware that your son lets other people run his life like this?"

After I switched from a private company to a foreign enterprise, my salary rose accordingly. My husband, who was always frugal, suggested that I hand over my entire salary to him. He claimed it would be used for daily household expenses. Watching him calculate the numbers, I asked, “What about your salary?” He said casually, “I’m saving it for our retirement.” I said nothing and followed his instructions. I spent my entire salary within a month. My husband finally felt uneasy when he saw how many packages kept showing up at our home. Seeing his doubts, I happily said, “You’re the one who said to use my whole salary for household expenses.” He exclaimed, “What are we, the Rockefellers?! How can one month cost this much?” That was funny. It turned out that he knew that a normal family’s expenses would never take my entire salary.

As the end of the year approached, I begged my father, the king, for three days and three nights before he finally agreed to let me travel to the frontier and reunite with my husband. But the moment I approached the military camp, the guards stopped me. When they found out I'd come to see Liam Foster, they burst out laughing. "Another girl who came all this way because she's got a crush on General Foster! You'd better turn back. General Foster is famously devoted to his wife. Aside from her, he wouldn't give any other woman a second look." I smiled faintly and was about to pull out my royal pendant to prove that I was the very "Mrs. Foster" they were talking about, when one of the guards pointed toward a woman not far away. "See her over there? That's our general's wife. Their love story has already spread all across the camp." I froze. By the time I came back to my senses, the woman had already walked over. She was wearing bright, elegant clothes—completely out of place in a military camp. With a gentle smile, she asked, "Miss, what business do you have with my husband? He had urgent matters to attend to and left earlier. It may be a while before he returns."

On the eve of my wedding, I catch my boyfriend of seven years, Eddy Stark, and my best friend, Jane Holman, going at it in the company break room. All my coworkers crowd outside the glass door, watching the spectacle. "My gosh! That's your boyfriend, right? It turns out…" At the most humiliating moment in my life, Rylen Huff, the CEO who never got along with me, walks over and drapes his coat over my shoulders. Before everyone present, he makes an announcement. "She is my fiancée. Save your nonsense." From that day on, I go from being the company's joke to the CEO's wife who everyone envies. After we get married, Rylen treats me very well. He gives me everything from jewelry and mansion to power. But only one thing never goes as planned—we don't have a child. To give him an heir, I go through injections and egg retrieval again and again. After 99 IVF attempts, I finally get pregnant. But on the day of my prenatal checkup, I overhear his conversation with the doctor. "Mr. Huff, the IVF procedure has already severely damaged her health and body. If she finds out that this embryo is actually Jane's, I fear she may have a mental meltdown." Rylen falls silent for a moment. Then, he says evenly, "I've already given her a life most people could never have. She should feel contented. When she gives birth, I'll tell her that her body was too weak, and the baby didn't make it. "Jane cannot handle the pain and hardship of childbirth. We are childhood friends who grew up together, after all. Of course, I should handle a minor matter like this for her." So the timely rescue and unconditional favor from Rylen were nothing but lies. I immediately schedule an abortion, as I don't intend to give birth to a child that isn't mine. In addition, I won't stay with a man who has never loved me.