Independence Romance Short Stories & Countdown Novels

In seven years of marriage, Dominic had brought up divorce seventeen times. Every single time ended in an ugly scene, because I couldn't stand Serena taking my place. She was the sister of Lucas, his late right-hand man, yet she'd climbed into his bed. I'd openly thrown her out during a Family council and had her name added to the exile list behind his back. Because of me, she was ambushed on the way into exile and lost the use of both legs, confined to a wheelchair for the rest of her life. Dominic should have hated me. But he suddenly stopped asking for a divorce. He even let me sit beside him again at Family councils, where everyone respectfully addressed me as Donna. As if everything had gone back to the way it was. Until the day I couldn't help but ask him why he wouldn't divorce me anymore. He finally told me the truth. "I got a phone call from myself, ten years in the future. "He told me that if I went through with the divorce, I'd be destroyed. Because you'd tie her up in a car and burn her alive." He looked at me, nothing but exhaustion in his eyes. "I already owe her a pair of legs. I can't owe her a life too. "As for you... "This is the life we've got. Let's just leave it at that." With that, he wheeled Serena past me without another glance. In that moment, I felt like a clown. A life spent chasing him for answers. Suddenly, I didn't want it anymore.

My fiancé Gavin decides by drawing lots whether I or his childhood friend Chloe gets to accompany him to the World Cup. In our twelve years together, Chloe won the chance to accompany him to both previous World Cups. Each time, he’d gently coax me: "The draw chose Chloe. I can’t go back on it, can I?" "Next time, no drawing lots. I promise I’ll go with you." I believed him and waited four years. This year, I excitedly bought new sunscreen and packed my luggage early because he said that, after the World Cup, we’d go to the Maldives for an early honeymoon. I was full of anticipation, but when we were about to leave, my fiancé froze. He looked at me, his eyes filled with guilt once again: "Chloe’s birthday wish was to accompany me to one more World Cup. This time, I’m still going with her." "I’m sorry, babe. Next time, I promise I’ll go with you." My heart suddenly clenched, and I stood there in silence. Meanwhile, he was meticulously planning the trip, even thoughtfully packing pads for the other woman. Suddenly, I didn’t want to wait anymore. I called my company’s director: "I’ll take the overseas assignment to Northern Europe."

For the seven years after our marriage, I spend whole nights in the prayer room before he will even touch me. Eric Compton says it is to atone for what I owe Monica Lynch. When his mother, Barbara Lane, pushes me to fulfill my wifely duties again, I overhear Eric's friends laughing. "Let me think. How many rounds of IVF has Avery done this year? She's trying very hard to get pregnant." "She probably doesn't know there's no way she's ever getting pregnant with Eric's kid." Eric scoffs. "Every time we're done, I give her a glass of milk. After all these years of birth control, it'd be a miracle if she got pregnant." He adds, "Everything she's suffered through is just payback for driving Monica away." I smile bitterly and send the recording to Richard Compton. "I'm not the lucky one meant to carry on the Compton name. Can I go now?"

On a trip to Chicily, my wife, Rosa Stone, and her first love, Jack Cud, insisted on feeding wild, starving wolves. I simply reminded them, "You might attract more hungry wolves." They turned on me, calling me a heartless monster. In the end, I was right. A pack of wolves really did show up. They circled the car, watching us hungrily. Jack was bitten by one. To my surprise, Rosa kicked me out of the car, yelling, "Jack is hurt! He needs to be taken to the hospital! Distract the wolves, I'll come back for you!" I watched them drive away, leaving me behind, surrounded by hungry wolves closing in from all sides. My heart sank. But, Rosa forgot one thing—I was a great Wolvesmith.

My husband can't find his way anywhere. He can't read a map, and turn-by-turn directions only confuse him more. He got lost on our wedding day and turned up so late the ceremony had to be pushed back three days. He got lost on our anniversary while a table of food I'd cooked went cold. Eight months pregnant, I fell in the bathroom and called him for help. He sounded frantic on the phone, and then he got lost on the road home, the one he'd driven for five years. By the time he reached the hospital, our son had already been taken to the funeral home and cremated. I couldn't climb out of it, and everyone around me took his side. "That thick head of his can't hold a road. He wasn't late on purpose. Don't start a fight over it. You'll have another baby." I nodded, numb. Then, on the way to my son's funeral, I found out my husband had sent the driver away and taken a long detour to his assistant's house without a single wrong turn. "Grace, the service won't start for a while. I'll run Paige to the airport first. She's got to get back home." Before I could say no, we were already at her door. His assistant slid into the front passenger seat like it belonged to her, and every word out of her mouth landed somewhere tender. "See how well I've trained you? You forget the way to my place and I'll pull your pants down and deal with you." It was only when she noticed me in the back seat that she stuck out her tongue, embarrassed. "Sorry, Ms. Ellison. I was joking." I swallowed it and said nothing. And after Owen dropped her off, he lost the route to the cemetery again, and my son's service started half an hour late. Holding that small urn against me, I stopped hoping. So there was someone he could make an exception for. It just wasn't me, and it wasn't our son.

We had been together for seven years, yet my CEO boyfriend canceled our marriage registration 99 times. The first time, his newly hired assistant got locked in the office. He rushed back to deal with it, leaving me standing outside the County Clerk's Office until midnight. The fifth time, we were about to sign when he heard his assistant had been harassed by a client. He left me there and ran off to "rescue" her, while I was left behind, humiliated and laughed at by others. After that, no matter when we scheduled our registration, there was always some emergency with his assistant that needed him more. Eventually, I gave up completely and chose to leave. However, after I moved away from Twilight City, he spent the next five years desperately searching for me, like a man who had finally lost his mind.

In my third year at the front as a military doctor, a bomb dropped from an aircraft struck our makeshift medical station. I ran desperately toward the military vehicle outside, trying to find my fiancé, Robert. Then I saw him barreling toward the medical station through the incoming fire. Tears immediately filled my eyes. But when he was barely fifteen feet away, he suddenly swerved and drove straight past me. He was heading toward Nora. He threw open the door, reached out, and pulled Nora from the ground into the vehicle before wrapping his arms tightly around her. He looked straight through me, even though I had been standing directly in his path only moments earlier. Someone shouted hoarsely, “Run! The second shell is coming—” The warning was swallowed by the explosion. Robert turned his head. Our eyes met. For the first time, I saw genuine fear in his eyes. The next moment, the shock wave hurled me through the air. When I slammed into the ground, the last thing I saw was a single tear sliding down the face of Lieutenant Robert, the hardened soldier known for never showing weakness. Yet his first instinct was still to step on the accelerator and drive Nora toward safety. As blood ran into my eyes and blurred my vision, memories from the past three years flashed through my mind. If I lived to see tomorrow’s sunrise, Robert could go his way, and I would go mine. Our paths would never cross again.

For the eighteenth time, Samson brought home his new lover and enjoyed their intimacy right in front of me. Knowing he was doing this to get back at me, I just quietly picked up their scattered clothes. Five years ago, Samson was nearly killed in a kidnapping. Ignoring all his desperate pleas, I broke up with him and left the country. Five years later, he became the CEO of a major corporation and used his wealth to keep me at his side as his personal assistant. Every so often, he would bring home a different woman and flaunt their affection in front of me just to humiliate me. Samson never knew that I had saved him from those kidnappers five years ago—and that I was the one who couldn't let go of him. Things went on this way until he brought Judy back. My cousin, someone I had financially supported for years. When Judy proudly stroked her belly and told me she was pregnant with Samson’s baby, I just congratulated her calmly. Then, I turned and made a phone call. “Hello, about that Medical Support Project we discussed? I’ve decided—I’m ready to join.”

An hour into my daughter's college-sendoff dinner, Marissa Langley still hadn't arrived. Every one of the hundred-plus calls we made was rejected. Every message she sent back was the same automatic reply: "On my way." My daughter stood up and sat back down five times, head lowered as she twisted the hem of her dress, not knowing how she was supposed to read the line in her speech that said, "Thank you to my parents." When I finally couldn't take it anymore and left the room— I saw Marissa in the banquet hall next door. She was standing shoulder to shoulder with her first love, Adrian Pierce. In front of them was Adrian Pierce's son, whose GPA fell more than a full point and a half short of my daughter's. "Thank you, Mom and Dad, for raising me!" The boy bowed to them. Marissa held Adrian's arm, smiled softly, and gave a gentle nod. Amid the thunderous applause, I stood there watching them for a long time. Suddenly, I felt more tired than I had ever felt in my life. So I turned around and went back to my daughter's table. "She isn't coming, sweetheart. Go onstage and say what you want to say." I reached out, patted my daughter's shoulder, and said softly, "And the thing you asked Dad about before— "I've thought it through. We'll do it your way."

There are only 12 minutes left until the lucky moment for me to leave my family home as a bride. Charles Lumley finally makes it past the games and hands me my bouquet. My relatives crowd around the doorway, urging him on. "Hurry up and take your bride to the car! The lucky moment is almost here!" With red-rimmed eyes, Mom carefully straightens my veil. Just as we're about to leave, I hear my bridesmaid, Winnie Simpson, cry out behind me. "Wait! My eyeliner is smudged. I need a quick touch-up!" I stop in my tracks, and Charles comes to a halt too. "Sure. No rush," he says. As Winnie rummages through her makeup bag, she smiles at me. "Don't worry, Nat. I'll be quick. I wouldn't want to embarrass you at your wedding by showing up with ruined makeup." Then, as casually as if it's the most natural thing in the world, she hands her bag to Charles. "Hold this for me." He takes it. The room falls silent. Mom's face grows paler by the second. I look at him. "Charles, the lucky moment for me to leave is 8:58 am. If we leave now, we'll make it just in time." But he frowns and argues, "I'm already here. A few more minutes won't make a difference." I look at the pink makeup bag in his hand and suddenly smile. Turning around, I pick up my phone and send a message to a number. I text, "Weren't you going to steal me away? Come get me at 8:58 am."

Clara Sterling, the richest woman in the city, successfully got a divorce and the custody over her daughter. I married her right away. Five years into our marriage, I've already quit my job and focused on becoming a great father and husband at home. Everything changes when Clara's ex-husband, William Sawyer, returns to the country abruptly. That night, my stepdaughter, Sarah Sterling, moves my things from Clara's room to a guest room. "You're my stepdad, so you can't sleep with my mommy. I can't make Daddy sad. You should leave our home!" The maids make fun of me. Meanwhile, Clara raises an eyebrow at me. "It's completely normal for Sarah to take her biological father's side. Don't take her words to heart. You're my husband now, anyway." I just hum in response as I pack up my luggage silently. Clara tries to climb into my bed late at night, only for me to turn her away. "Our marriage contract will come to an end in two days. Once the time comes, let's get a divorce."

My husband sent me to prison on our third wedding anniversary. I thought Bryce Holloway was the love of my life. My high school sweetheart and husband. The man I had spent three years trying to build a family with. So when I found out I was pregnant, I couldn’t wait to surprise him. But instead of celebrating our anniversary, I was arrested for my father’s murder. “I didn’t kill my father!” The evidence said otherwise. And when Bryce finally came to the police station, I thought he would save me. Instead, he leaned closer and whispered, “Didn’t you say you wanted something unforgettable for our anniversary?” My heart shattered when he added, “Enjoy your life sentence.” He had framed me. While I was rotting in prison, he divorced me and married my stepsister, Daniella. “He should’ve chosen me from the beginning.” Daniella said. I thought my life was over. Then I discovered I wasn’t carrying one baby. I was carrying twins. And I made one decision… Bryce would never know they existed. But keeping my children a secret wasn’t enough. My stepmother wanted me dead, my inheritance was at risk, and the people who destroyed my life were determined to make sure I never walked out of prison. Until someone helped me disappear. My father’s attorney, Roman Ashford. Two years later, everyone believed Kaia Bennett was dead. But they were wrong. I returned to California under a new identity, with my twins by my side and one goal in mind. Taking back everything that belonged to me.

My husband, Arthur Banks, had just been promoted to colonel and ordered to report to his new post in Miami immediately. Under the military relocation program, he could bring two family members with him. Our neighbors envied me. They thought my daughter and I would have a better life in Miami. But I knew he'd already promised those two spots to his widowed adopted sister, Emily Carter, and her daughter, Lucy. In my last life, his decision had hurt and angered me so much that I'd filed a complaint. That forced Arthur to change the list. A few years later, Arthur came home a success, ready to take Emily and Lucy to Miami, only to learn that Emily had sunk into depression and died. He took Lucy, thin and frail, back to Miami with him and divorced me. Soon after, he sent his own daughter more than 1,000 miles north to learn etiquette. No one expected the car to get caught in a blizzard on a mountain road. My daughter's body was never found. But he wasn't the least bit heartbroken. He even told everyone that Lucy was his real daughter. "Isabelle is your own daughter! How could you be so heartless!" When I confronted him, he backhanded me across the face. "If you hadn't filed that complaint, I could've taken Emily away from here, and she never would have died of depression! "You two killed her, so it's a life for a life!" Hatred swallowed me whole. I soaked the house in gasoline and dragged Arthur into the flames with me. When I opened my eyes again, Arthur and I were both back on the day he filled out the list of dependents.

By our sixth year of marriage, Derrick hadn't touched me in three months. Said he was swamped at work. Always tired. After everything, I still believed him. Then on my birthday, I caught his friend talking in Garmenian—a language Derrick didn't think I understood. "You cut off the side piece yet? You were with her nonstop. Surprised you didn't drop dead. Your wife cool with that?" Derrick let out a smoke ring. "Haven't touched Audrey in months. Sabrina's insane in bed—I'm not over her yet. Sucks she got pregnant. Audrey doesn't want kids, so I gave Sabrina some cash. She'll have the baby overseas." My hands curled into fists. Silent tears streamed down my face. He glanced over, nervous. "What's wrong?" I smiled. "The cake you made is amazing. I'm really touched." It was sweet—but when you understand Garmenian, all you taste is betrayal.

A hostage situation broke out at a shopping mall, and a female college student and I were backed into a corner by the attacker. My husband, hostage negotiator Logan Callum, was the first to arrive on the scene. I shielded the girl behind me and discreetly flashed Logan a tactical hand signal. If he could pull the attacker's attention away for just one second, I could take the man down. We had drilled this kind of life-or-death coordination countless times. But this time, Logan, who was always so composed, lost control. He ignored my signal, his eyes bloodshot as he roared at the attacker, "She's pregnant! Don't hurt her! I'll give you anything you want!" My heart softened, and my hand drifted to my belly. He must have seen the pregnancy test results I'd picked up last night. The attacker was spiraling out of control, his blade a hair's breadth from slitting our throats. Then Logan broke every rule of negotiation. He forced his way past the cordon and yanked the girl out from behind me. Losing his hostage sent the attacker into a rage, and he brought the knife down. With no time left, I had no choice but to grab the blade with my bare hand to save myself. The steel sliced open my palm, and warm blood gushed out, but I didn't feel a thing. I stared numbly at the scene a short distance away. Logan was crushing the girl against his chest, comforting her in a trembling voice, "Don't be scared. I won't let anything happen to you or the baby." Only then did it hit me. The "she" Logan had been talking about wasn't me.

When the kidnappers shoved a gun into Elena Vaughn's mouth and demanded ten million dollars from her husband, Julian Vaughn was busy with another woman. He focused all his attention on slowly zipping up Chloe Bennett's gown, without a thought for what Elena was going through. Julian only agreed to pay the ransom after Elena said through gritted teeth that the kidnappers might actually kill her. Soon after, a transfer landed in the kidnappers' account. Amount received: one dollar. Then Julian's ice-cold voice came through the phone. "Elena, consider this dollar your acting fee. "Chloe's having an asthma attack. I don't have time for your little show." The line went dead. Her face covered in blood, Elena begged the kidnappers for three days. This time, she didn't want his love. She wanted to survive.

Pine Hollow has followed the same wedding custom for more than a century: the groom must hand-stitch a pair of bridal shoes for his bride to wear during the wedding send-off. If the shoes fit, it means the ancestors have blessed the couple with a lifetime of happiness. I tried on six pairs, but each one was either too large or too small. Every wedding had to be canceled. Each time, Cole Bennett promised me guiltily, "Audrey, wait for me. I swear I'll make you a pair of bridal shoes that fits perfectly." I believed him. Then, at our seventh send-off, I put on the shoes and my toe tore straight through a hole in the front. I froze, but Piper Dawson, who had come with the groom's party, pointed at me and burst out laughing. "Sorry, Audrey. I didn't know the pair I bought this time would be so poorly made. They're even worse than the first six!" I stared at Cole in disbelief. "She bought all the shoes? We prepared for seven weddings, and you let her turn every one into a game?" He frowned and looked at me as though I were the unreasonable one. "Piper is a tomboy. Why are you making such a big deal out of this? You already waited through six weddings. What difference does one more make?" Then he stroked my hair and spoke casually. "Stop making a scene. I promised Piper I wouldn't marry you until she turns twenty-five and can live independently. "I promise I'll stitch the next pair myself." I watched him in silence. He had forgotten that I no longer had the right to make a scene. In Pine Hollow, seven failed wedding send-offs marked a bride as ill-fated. Within three days, she had to enter an alliance marriage with someone outside the community. And she was forbidden from returning home for seven years.