Hypocrisy Romance Short Stories & Regret Novels

My husband’s newly hired secretary had a terrible temper. Just because he casually picked a bite of food for me at the dinner table, she flew into a fit of rage and smashed every plate and bowl in the house. Then, she threatened to fake her death and deregister herself, saying she would disappear from my husband’s world forever. The moment he heard that, my husband panicked. He immediately abandoned me even though I was about to go into lung cancer surgery, and sped off on the highway, reenacting some over-the-top CEO drama of chase and pursuit. At three in the afternoon, the surgery was scheduled to begin. My husband called. His tone was apologetic. “As a boss, I have a responsibility to ensure the safety of my employees. “Once I find her and make sure she’s safe, I’ll definitely come to the hospital and accompany you for your surgery. I’ll even make it up to you with a wedding trip!” However, I no longer wanted to wait for him. “Julian, let’s get divorced.”

I dated my lawyer boyfriend for five years. He canceled our wedding. Fifty-two times. First time? His intern messed up some paperwork. He ditched me at the beach to fix it. I waited all day. Alone. Second time, we were mid-ceremony when he bolted. Heard that intern was getting heat from another lawyer and left me to face the guests and their stares. After that, every time we tried again, there was always some "emergency" with her. Always. I finally hit my limit. I was done. Packed up and broke it off. But the day I left Ainsley? He totally lost it trying to find me.

On Valentine’s Day, my girlfriend Florence Higgins was rushed to the hospital after accidentally eating undercooked wild mushrooms. Half-conscious on the hospital bed, she murmured, “Michael… I owed you too much. If my family’s company hadn’t been on the brink of collapse, you wouldn’t have left, and I wouldn’t have ended up with Noah.” I am Noah Owens. As for Michael Connor, he was the love of her life. The one she cherished most during her youth. What she seemed to forget was that when her family’s company was about to collapse, Michael had been the first to walk away. During those seven years, I was the one who helped revive her company, the one who stayed by her side. I believed she might eventually have a change of heart, but I never expected her to abort our child for the sake of her first love. At that moment, I finally understood that you can’t force warmth where there is none.

At my nephew's college celebration, I ran into my ex-fiancée, whom I hadn't seen in five years. She was dressed to the nines, surrounded by our former classmates. The moment Willow Radcliff saw me, her eyes went red. "You were alive this whole time, Orson. Why didn't you come back to me?" I looked away, wanting to leave. She stopped me and pulled out the engagement ring from years ago. "I sabotaged your college applications three times and forced you to repeat your senior year for three years. And when the fire happened, I chose Gareth over you. I was wrong. "For five years, I've regretted what I did. Now, I want to keep my promise. I want to marry you. Please, give me a chance to make it up to you." She looked at me, silently pleading. Her old classmates immediately started cheering and teasing her. Everyone assumed I would say yes. After all, I'd spent 15 years trying to win Willow over. Even after she sabotaged my college applications three times, I never broke things off with her. But I simply held up my hand, showing her the ring on my finger. "I'm already married."

Owen Gray and I get into an accident. I'm seven months pregnant, but I save him anyway. I end up in a coma. I wake up after three years. Owen has amnesia, and he's now my sister's husband. My child also calls her his mother. I try everything, but Owen doesn't remember me. Instead, his love for my sister grows deeper. Even our son blames me for waking him and ruining their happy lives. When I finally decide to let go, I overhear a conversation between Owen and someone else. "Shannon was willing to give up her life for you, Owen. If she finds out your amnesia is an act…" "There's only a week to go before my three-year agreement with her sister is over. I'll give Vivian the wedding she wants. Then, I'll act like I've recovered from my amnesia. Luca and I will return to Shannon's side." I'm stunned. I never would've expected Owen to be pretending to be an amnesiac. I look at the diagnosis report in my hands. It's too bad I can't even wait for a week.

When Edna Crossby ditches the marriage registration for the fifth time, I block her contact number and social media accounts on the spot. If she's in any of the social gatherings, I turn down the invitations right away. I'd rather take the long route than walk past the cafe Edna frequents. If she attends a team-building session, I take the day off without hesitation. Even when Edna shows up on my doorstep with gifts in hand on Christmas Eve, I pretend that I'm not home at all. I don't answer any calls from her. I don't respond to texts she sends me. Just like that, I completely fade away from Edna's world. In the past, Edna used to be the focus of my life. My emotions fluctuated all the time because of her. When Edna flakes out on me for the fifth time, I finally snap out of my lovesick stupor. I don't want to live life like this anymore. Rather than getting abandoned time and again, I might as well live my life on my own happily.

My fiancé is one of the country's top neurosurgeons. One day, he discovers that his childhood sweetheart has been diagnosed with cancer and only has a month to live. He wants to spend this time with her, so he feeds me a newly developed memory-wiping drug to make me forget him for a month. During that time, he throws his childhood sweetheart a wedding and goes on a honeymoon with her. As they stand amid an ocean of flowers, they vow to be together in another lifetime. One month later, he kneels before me in the rain. Tears stream down his face as he says hoarsely, "The drug's effects were only supposed to last for a month. Why have you permanently forgotten me?"

The day I discovered Sean's affair, I cornered him and my stepsister Tina in the company warehouse. A fire broke out afterward. Tina died saving me from the flames, and Sean was injured when a pillar collapsed on him. His shoulder was wrapped in bandages. "Joanna, are you happy now?" His ragged scream that day echoed in my ears for a long, long time. Two months later, the company went bankrupt because of the fire. To pay off the debts, Sean and I moved to a run-down neighborhood. I worked three jobs a day, all to ease the guilt eating me alive. A few years passed, and our relationship seemed to find its way back to what it once was—right up until Valentine's Day. That was when I spotted the supposedly dead Tina at the supermarket, shopping for seafood with Patricia, my mother-in-law. "Patricia, thank you. Without you, Sean and I wouldn't be this happy." "Don't mention it. If we hadn't gotten rid of that crazy woman back then, what would've happened to my precious grandson?" Patricia smiled and patted Tina's hand. "It's Valentine's Day. Sean reserved that rooftop restaurant just for you two. Go enjoy yourselves." My first instinct was to call Sean, but before I could even dial, a text from him came through first. "Babe, picking up a coworker's shift tonight. Night pay and the bonus come out to almost two hundred dollars. I'll bring you something good on my way back." I froze where I stood. So that was it. Three years of hardship, and all of it had been a lie they'd carefully woven around me.

I run into my former sister-in-law, whom I haven't seen in ages, during a prenatal checkup at the hospital. Wynne Jenkins glances at my belly. And just like she always does, her face crinkles with disdain as she starts nagging me. "Look at you, wandering around with a pregnant belly at your age," she hollers. "What if something happens to my baby nephew? Can't you be a little more sensible and stop making Sean worry all the time?" She must have forgotten. A year ago, Mom was gravely ill. Her only wish was to see me married with children. I staked everything and proposed to Sean Jenkins. On our big day, I waited from dawn until nightfall—only to receive a 30-second voice message from him. "I won't show up at the ceremony, and I won't marry you. This is what you get for bullying Lav." Mom was so enraged by Sean's recklessness that she suffered a heart attack and passed away. After taking care of her funeral, I erased every trace of myself. With what little I had left, I fled Horton—while Sean was still abroad, skiing with Lavender Quinn. And yet now, Wynne says, "Sean spends more than two weeks every month flying around looking for you. He's lost nearly 20 pounds in less than a year. "He's been waiting for you, Janelle. Now that you're back, please stay and build a family with him." I smirk and raise my hand, flaunting the ring on my finger. "Sorry, I like to keep a low profile. I'm already married, but we kept the ceremony simple. That's why you didn't know."

My husband’s family has a tradition of couples living apart together, and he can't publicly acknowledge our relationship until a son is born. He forces me to respect his family's traditions and tells me to raise our daughter alone. Six years after we got married, Andrew Sonovan inherits everything his late brother left behind, including his widow, Kasey Jordan. To satisfy his family's demands for him to carry on both lines, he sleeps with Kasey time and time again. Then, he holds me in his arms. "I can have a proper wedding with you once Kasey gets pregnant and carries on my brother's line. Hold on for a bit longer…" However, all I get is the news of him marrying Kasey. "Marry me, Kasey! I'll make you the happiest woman in the world!" I watch as Andrew gets on one knee in the glow of the flickering candlelight. He looks at Kasey lovingly as he proposes. Meanwhile, she rubs her baby bump, looking blissful. My daughter and I stand outside the room and witness their happiness. It's only then do I understand that I'm the only one who's been in the dark for the past six years.

The day we divorced, I gave up custody of our son. For once, Logan looked up at me. “Coral. “You nearly died on the operating table giving birth to him. “And now you want to abandon him as well?” I slid the signed divorce papers across the table. “That’s right.” Logan stared at me long and hard before letting out a scoff. “So you’re weaponizing the boy to force me to come back to you?” I didn’t offer an explanation. Instead, I placed my access card on the table–the one that had once granted me access to every conference room in the Reed Group. Five years ago, I stayed by his side throughout when the business faced its darkest chapter, edging on bankruptcy. Logan had declared there and then that I was the only lady of the household. Yet now, he believed that social standing was all I cared about. Not at all convinced, Logan refused to sign the petition on my terms. He simply uttered icily, “I have no time for your games.” Days later, my body was laid before him. Reality sank in. There was no turning back for us anymore.

I spent seven years drafting divorce papers for other people. I never expected that the ninety-ninth agreement would be my own. That night, my husband, Carter, lost a tabletop game during a live stream with his childhood sweetheart, Chloe. The penalty was to give up the thing he treasured most. Chloe smiled at the camera, tapping his wedding ring. "Lend me your marriage for a day." The comment section blew up. Carter looked at me like he was giving orders to an assistant. "Evelyn, you know the drill. "Sign a temporary divorce agreement. I’ll cancel it with you tomorrow morning." Chloe lowered her eyes, her voice trembling. "Forget it. She won't let you. You always choose her over me anyway." I reached into my bag and touched the positive IVF result. Seven years of hormone shots. Four miscarriages. I didn't even have the energy to tell him anymore. As the camera zoomed in on my face, I pushed the papers back across the table. "Carter, this time, I’m putting down a bet, too. “I bet the thing you lose tonight isn't just me.”

Maren Reeves, my best friend, suddenly told me she'd gotten back together with her ex. I tore into her for going back to a man who'd already hurt her, but she only gave me a bitter smile. "Maybe some people are just destined to keep getting tangled up with each other. Renee, I don't need your validation. I just don't want you to be mad at me." At the time, I didn't understand what Maren really meant. I thought she was only worried I'd get worked up over that jerk again. Seeing the conflict on her face, I couldn't bring myself to keep scolding her. I simply hugged her and told her not to settle for anything that made her unhappy. Then, a year later, I went to the hospital because of severe menstrual cramps and unexpectedly saw her leaving the maternity ward. Confused, I was about to approach her when a man hurried over, carefully helping her along and fussing over her every need. In an instant, I instinctively ducked behind the corner, my entire body trembling uncontrollably. Because that man was none other than Isaiah Cole, my husband of three years.

After Emily Cross died in an accident, I went through three years of absolute hell. This year, on the anniversary of her death, I escaped from a rehab facility overseas just to see her one last time. Stumbling into the cemetery in a daze, I passed a couple walking the other way. The man's voice was laced with annoyance. "You're almost at your due date, and you still insisted on coming to the cemetery. What a hassle." The woman gave a soft laugh. "We agreed we'd come pay respects to your father. I couldn't just back out." That voice stopped me cold. Turning my neck stiffly, I saw the face that had haunted me for three years. Emily Cross, heavily pregnant. And beside her was my mother's illegitimate son, Jake. A chill ran through me. Shaking, I pulled out my phone and snapped a photo. Then I sent it to her forensic pathologist friend. [She's not dead, is she?]

When I am diagnosed with congenital heart disease, I am forced to leave the dance company and give up the career I have spent my entire life working toward. My best friend, Vivian Carter, steps into my place, promising to fulfill my dream in my stead. My boyfriend, Ethan Bennett, proposes to me on the spot. He swears that no matter what happens to me—or what becomes of me—he will never leave my side. Over the next five years, I devote myself to helping Vivian rise through the ranks until she becomes the company's principal dancer. With my support, Ethan's career flourishes as well. And through it all, they never stop telling me they are searching for a way to cure me. This year, while both of them are busy preparing for an upcoming competition, I go to my follow-up appointment alone. But when I receive the results, I am stunned. There is nothing wrong with my heart. Overwhelmed with joy, I clutch the medical report to my chest and rush home, eager to share the news with them. Then, before I can step inside, I hear voices coming from within. Vivian speaks first. "Evelyn's follow-up appointment is coming up. Are you sure nothing will go wrong?" Ethan's voice is calm and unconcerned. "I already took care of it. Her test results will still show that she has heart disease." He pauses before adding, "Besides, she hasn't danced in five years. Even if she somehow finds out, what can she possibly do?" Vivian lets out a quiet laugh. "You're right." I freeze outside the door. The blood drains from my face as their words sink in. So this is the truth. My best friend and the man who promised to love me forever have been lying to me all along. Every promise. Every act of devotion. Every sacrifice I thought they had made for me. It has all been a lie.

After my family went bankrupt, my fiancé, Thaddeus Blackwood, firmly broke off our engagement and chose Vivienne Winters instead. It was Sterling Knight who helped me clear my debts and arranged my father's funeral, rescuing me from financial ruin. For the next three years, he remained steadfastly by my side. Just when I believed I had found my salvation, I overheard a conversation between Sterling and his friend the day before our wedding. "Do you really plan to marry Arabella Frost? Aren't you afraid she'll eventually discover that you orchestrated her father's death and her family's bankruptcy?" "Vivienne has already married Thaddeus," Sterling replied. "I might as well marry her. And if she finds out, so what? I paid off her debts and gave her father a proper burial. I've done right by her." Only then did I realize that Sterling had deceived me too. From beginning to end, I was the only one truly invested in this relationship.

During college, while we were dating, Elias Longheart would bring me breakfast every day. There would be two portions—one for me, and one for my dormmate, Winnie Romger. For me? It was always the same—buns and oatmeal. For her? It was always different—a meal that was nutritionally balanced with meat and vegetables. Even on my birthday, he gave out gifts in pairs. For me, it was just four simple greeting cards. For her, it was concert tickets, a handmade crystal collage photo frame, a dreamy white dress, and a promise ring. … It wasn't until our graduation trip, when the three of us arrived at the train station, that everything became clear. The two of them passed through with no issue after scanning their IDs—but I was stopped at the gate. Elias slapped his forehead in frustration, giving an awkward, apologetic smile. "I was so focused on booking Winnie's ticket that I forgot yours. Look, we've already passed through. Don't waste the money—next time, I'll take you on a proper trip. It'd be just the two of us." Winnie patted her chest and assured me confidently, "Don't worry, girl. I'll keep an eye on him for you." Watching the two of them walk away side by side, laughing and chatting, I let out a bitter smile. I didn't want to keep lying to myself anymore. I turned and bought a ticket home. "Dad? That requirement for me to marry after graduation? I'll agree to it. As for that internship candidate you suggested—Elias Longheart? Cancel it."

After I landed in the hospital—again—from working myself into the ground, Jacob swore he was done playing house stockbroker. "Starting tomorrow, I'll do anything. Haul bricks, deliver pizza, whatever. I'm not letting you carry this alone." His eyes were glassy as he stormed out of the exam room like he was about to save the day or something. Then the doctor walked in and handed me a report. I was pregnant. Again. Heart racing, I chased after Jacob... and froze. He was standing outside some super VIP room. The same guys who used to bang on our door for money were suddenly all respectful. "Mr. Klein, should we block her door again tomorrow?" Jacob twirled our engagement ring around his finger. "No need. She already lost one baby paying off those debts. The test's over. Time she knew who I really am." Then my best friend—Lillian Morvain—strolled out and wrapped her arms around his waist like she belonged there. "Jacob, don't go soft. Your tests usually last at least five years. What if she's just another gold digger? Plus... I'd miss you." He hesitated. Smirked. "Fine. We'll do it your way. She's not going anywhere anyway." I stood there, clutching my stomach, sliding down the wall like the air had been punched out of me. Later, I pushed open the office door. "Dr. Spencer, I need a termination. Three days from now."

I've infiltrated into a private group chat called "The Domestication Project". The group owner is in the middle of spamming her experience of her destroying her husband's mental willpower. "I've secretly swapped out my husband's anti-depressants for something else. Every day, I keep telling him that he's a useless, pathetic loser. Once he's hopelessly dependent on me, I'll have him thrown into a mental hospital and take over his company naturally." All the group members keep praising the group owner for being a total professional in gaslighting her husband. Soon, they start asking for her methods and experience. I tap on the photo of an experimental journal that the group owner has just sent. To my shock, the name listed on the mental health report with a diagnosis of severe depression is actually my own! As for the haughty group owner, she's Sophie Hayes, my wife of ten years! Yesterday, that woman told me with red-rimmed eyes that she'd rather go bankrupt just to cure me of my depression! It turns out that her devotion and love toward me for the past ten years is nothing but a grand yet cruel plot to murder me slowly! Since Sophie wants me to get reduced into a lunatic who has lost all of his marbles, then I shall put on an insane show for her. After that, I lock the doors in the mansion and dump the gasoline that I've just bought all over the living room.

After I was rescued from a staged kidnapping, my wife, Vanessa, moved out of our bedroom on her own. No matter how I explained, she insisted I had been attacked because I had cheated. Even when I tried to touch her, she screamed and threw up on me. Friends and relatives looked at me with more and more pity. Everyone told me, "Vanessa's a good woman. Stop tormenting her." Even my son snapped, "You're so filthy. Why do you have to force Mom?" From then on, I was branded a cheater and a lunatic. I spent the rest of my life in misery and despair, and in my old age, I ended that wretched life by throwing myself into a lake. Only after I died did I learn that the kidnapping had been staged by Vanessa herself. She used my guilt to make me take care of our son and her father. Meanwhile, she kept herself "pure" for the man she'd never gotten over and lived a carefree life with him. When I opened my eyes again, I had returned to the day I was rescued.