Plot Twists Romance-Kurzgeschichten & Independence Face Slapping-Kurzromane

For our fifth anniversary, Zach Jennings made a reservation at an exclusive resort outside the city. But when Zach came to pick me up, Lily Lane was sitting in the back seat. She was the daughter of his former advisor and a junior in his program. He rolled down the window. "Lily's headed out that way too. I'll drop her off on the way." We'd barely been driving for ten minutes when we got caught in a chain-reaction crash on the overpass. In that split second, Zach yanked the wheel and flung his right arm across Lily to shield her. Five years earlier, he'd put his body between me and danger in the same way. It had convinced me I'd found someone who would always put me first, someone I could trust with my life. I sat in the passenger seat, and the impact threw me into the windshield. Blood immediately streamed down my forehead. Still shaken, Zach twisted around. The first person he checked on was Lily. "Are you okay? Did you get hurt?" It wasn't until Lily pointed at me, close to tears, that Zach spun toward me in a panic. His eyes darted away from my bleeding forehead as he hurried to explain, "Eva, don't read too much into it. There's an airbag up front. I only put my arm out for her on reflex." I wiped the blood from the corner of my eye. I'd never been more clearheaded. When lives are on the line, instinct doesn't lie. The person he cared about most wasn't me anymore. So I wasn't going to stay with him.

On the flight to the World Healthcare Competition, the lead professor had been checking the samples of the experimental drugs for the competition. When he got to Sabrina, the junior member of the team, she blinked innocently and said. "I replaced all the samples with highly toxic reagents. I wanted to test everyone's emergency response in unexpected situations. "Not just ours, though. I secretly swapped the other teams' samples, too." In my previous life, I immediately contacted airport security and forced all flights to be grounded, narrowly preventing a global medical disaster. Sabrina was arrested for deploying hazardous substances, missed the finals, and became a pariah in the medical world after that. At the celebration banquet, my boyfriend, the lead surgeon, locked me inside a negative-110-degree freezer. He looked at me with cold, unfeeling eyes as he said, "Sabrina was just joking. You could've quietly switched the samples back. If you hadn't called the police, she wouldn't have been ruined, and she wouldn't have slit her wrists in prison. "You should experience the cold and despair she felt before death." They pressed the cooling switch, and so my blood congealed as I suffocated in agony in the extreme cold. … When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the flight. Sabrina was cupping her face, looking at the lead professor with bright anticipation. I quietly put on my eye mask and said nothing. I wasn't going to stop her this time. Instead, I would let the entire team die from the poison together.

Three months after my patron sent me to finishing school, I ended our eight-year arrangement myself. "I'm done being your kept woman." Duncan paused. "Is someone at school giving you a hard time? If you want another present, just say so. You know I hate it when you play hard to get." I looked at my savings, barely double digits, and thought about the math my classmates had done for me. So I told him the truth. "They get tens of thousands a month and only have to show up to two parties. "I get five hundred, and I take care of Grandma, go to your business dinners, and keep track of your stomach medicine. I ran the numbers three times, and it still doesn't add up. "Isn't that why you sent me there? Because you think I spend too much and need to learn how to please you? I can't learn it, so I won't waste any more of your time." Duncan's breathing grew heavy. "Who said anything about replacing you? Last month I gave you five hundred thousand. Diana said it wasn't enough, so this month I added another two hundred thousand. And now you're leaving me over five hundred dollars? How much is enough for you?"

Natalie Shaw, the dance company's new understudy, slipped razor blades into my practice outfit and left my back slashed and bloody. My boyfriend, Derek Mercer, the theater's associate director, sent her makeup case skidding across the room with one furious kick. "Touch her again, and I'll end you!" Natalie was thrown out of the rehearsal room, her eyes rimmed red. After that, she didn't just refuse to back down. She hired a few thugs to corner me in the alley behind the theater. Derek threw himself in front of me to block a steel pipe, fracturing his arm. Everyone said Derek would die for me. Then, at a sponsors' dinner the night before the tour, I drank a glass of wine Natalie handed me. Within minutes, my limbs went slack and my skin began to burn. I dragged myself into a storage closet at the end of the hall, only to hear Natalie's syrupy voice just outside the door. "The way you took that beating for her two days ago almost broke my heart. But..." Fabric rustled, and Natalie giggled. "Back in the private dining room, you watched me slip something into her drink. You knew those sponsors had cameras ready and were waiting for her. And you just stepped out for a smoke." "You let me destroy her reputation, so the principal role is mine now. Right?" Derek said nothing. He only pinned her against the door. The door vibrated slightly, striking a heavy blow against my heart. He had already given his heart to someone else.

Susan Langley has always said that her father was a difficult man. That's why, after eight years of dating, Shawn Carter still hasn't met her parents. Determined to win over his future father-in-law, Shawn disguises himself as a staff member and deliberately orchestrates a chance encounter with Susan's father, Thomas Langley. Before long, the two become unlikely friends despite their age difference. Just as Shawn finally works up the courage to reveal his true identity, Thomas suddenly announces, "My picky daughter is finally getting married!" Shawn is overjoyed. But before he can tell Thomas who he is, he sees a photograph of Susan standing beside a man he's never seen before. "Susan insists on marrying him," Thomas continues. "She says that if she can't marry him, she'd rather remain single for the rest of her life. What do you think of my future son-in-law?"

I've been able to smell people's emotions since I was a child. Affection smells sweet. Sorrow smells bitter. Disgust and anger smell spicy. I'd been with Bruce Dawson for ten years, and the scent that clung to him had never changed. It was always sweet, cloyingly so. The only thing that ever shifted was the day my older sister left the country. That night, when he came home late, his scent had turned bitter enough to make me frown. But I never connected the two. Not until three years later, when my sister came home to get married. That day, his scent was bitter laced with something spicy, a mix I'd never smelled on him before. It struck me as strange. Without thinking, I followed him when he stepped away from the reception, and outside in the stairwell I heard his voice, low and pained. "That's enough, Jasmine! You'd rather marry a stranger just to make me give up on you?" My sister's voice cracked as she cried back at him. "What else can I do? You're my brother-in-law. Rosalie is my sister. We can't keep doing this to her!" I froze in the doorway, my whole body shaking with shock, my heart wrung out like a fist closing around it until I couldn't breathe. That was when my phone lit up with a reminder: my wedding to Bruce was next week. I stood there blank for two seconds. Then I called the hotel and canceled the wedding.

The day before our engagement, Stellan Graves came shopping with me, but his mind was clearly elsewhere. I bought a chili dog from a street stall and held it up to his mouth only for him to swat it out of my hand, sending it flying to the ground. Fury flashed across his face as he snapped, "Ivy Stein, the Graves family needs a woman who can actually show her face in public. Stop buying cheap trash like this. You're embarrassing me. How do you expect my parents to accept you like this?" I picked up the food in humiliation, threw it into the trash, and nodded meekly for the sake of our four years together in college. "As you wish." … However, the very next day, he switched his fiancee to Amelia Lane. "Ivy, Amelia tried to kill herself just to marry me. She's in the hospital now. Once she's stable again, I'll come back and marry you." Four years later, he showed up at my tiny apartment with a diamond ring in hand. "Ivy, Amelia has already agreed to divorce me. We can finally be together. I told you before—once Amelia lets go of her obsession with me and stops hurting herself, I'll come and marry you." I frowned at Stellan's so-called heartfelt expression. I must have had terrible luck that day. Who'd have thought I'd run into this wacko when I'd come back to my place on a whim?! "Move," I demanded, shoving him out the door. "You're blocking the way. I need to pick up my kid from school."

At the reunion, someone asked when I was getting married. Grinning, I pulled out the invites. "Mid-October. Be there." Cheers broke out. Everyone peeked at the girl next to me. "You've been with Daphne forever, right? Finally making it official?" Daphne hurled her drink at me. "Ethan Everett, is this your idea of pressuring me into marriage?" The room froze. I wiped my face, cool as ever, and opened the invite in front of her. "Maybe check the name. It doesn't say you're the bride."

In the third year of his remarriage with his childhood friend, Charlotte Davidson, Henry Fowler attends an inconspicuous college reunion, where he stumbles upon a secret about Charlotte. Gavin Redfield, the campus heartthrob, swirls his wine glass in a drunken stupor. Someone asks him, "What's the most thrilling thing you've ever done in your life?" His eyes are glazed over as he answers in a provocative tone, "Becoming the lover of Charlotte, the renowned Ms. Davidson, of course! Her husband is such a moron. He thinks we already broke up! "But in reality, we already have a child together. I get to live in her villa, drive her limited edition supercar, spend her money, and order her maids around!" As soon as he finished speaking, all hell breaks loose. Everyone turns to look at Henry, eager to see him lose his composure. After all, he is Charlotte's legal husband. However, Henry doesn't budge an inch, nor does he make a fuss about it. Even when the waiter is pouring him some wine, he seems unaffected as he thanks the waiter. Not long after the reunion ends, everyone realizes something is off about him…

As soon as I leave the hospital after my abortion, I send my husband, Rykel Heffer, a message. "I terminated the pregnancy." I get an instant reply. "Okay." I stare at that single word and suddenly find it almost funny. For years, whenever I gave him a heads-up before heading into a high-risk assignment, the only reply I got was "okay". And whenever I reminded him that if he was unable to reach me for 24 hours, he should come looking for me, I also got a simple "okay". When I was trapped under the rubble after a building collapsed and lost contact for 72 hours, I sent Rykel 309 desperate messages, consumed by fear. He replied with 309 "okay"s. Only now do I realize that every reply I have ever received has been an automated response. Since Rykel never reads my messages, naturally, he has no idea that half a month ago, I told him I would be taking an overseas assignment and terminating the pregnancy today. His attention and affection have always belonged to the woman who fills his social media feed—Joey Mugbrey. "It's our thousand-day anniversary, and it's Joey's birthday too!" The post is accompanied by a screenshot of their chat history. Above the countless messages is a 1,000-day streak, celebrating their thousand days together. I tap "Like" on his post and leave a comment. "A wonderful day indeed." Today marks the anniversary of the day I narrowly escaped death in that collapse years ago. More importantly, it is the day I decide to leave Rykel for good.

I was the King's most favored mistress — more indulged than any other woman at court. And yet, after all this time, I still hadn't given him an heir. That day, just as I lifted the fertility tonic Doctor Rose Saylon had prepared for me to my lips, a string of glowing text appeared out of nowhere, hanging in the air in front of me. [The hero really does spoil the heroine rotten, letting her waltz in and out of the palace disguised as a physician.] [Well, our girl doesn't want to be caged up at court, does she? Forget being the King's favorite — he would hand her the crown itself if she asked.] [Meanwhile the other woman is over here choking down her medicine like a good girl, no idea it's the slow-acting poison the heroine cooked up just for her. Poor thing comes from a military family, and the hero's only using her.] [And every single time our hero "visits" her, she's actually drugged unconscious first. Then his captain of the guard, Connor Browning, takes his place in bed.] My head was spinning. What in the world were these words even talking about? Had someone found out that I'd been eyeing that broad-shouldered, narrow-waisted guard at the King's side this whole time?

A week before our wedding, Damian Hale threw me a pre-wedding party at his family's private racetrack. His racing partner, Sienna Belmont, tossed a set of car keys into my lap. "Every bride should take a spin, right?" I wanted to refuse, but Damian slung an arm around me and said with a laugh, "It's just for fun. Sienna will show you around the track. You'll be fine." I let my guard down. But when I reached the third turn, I hit the brakes. Nothing happened. The car crashed through the barrier. My spine snapped, leaving me in a wheelchair. Three months later, I saw Sienna walk out of Damian's bedroom wearing my engagement ring. All he had to say was, "Avery, I need a wife who can stand beside me." Sienna wheeled me out to the rooftop terrace. "Want to know why your brakes failed?" With a smile, she released my wheelchair's brake and gave me a hard shove. I plunged 40 stories. When I opened my eyes again, I was back a month before the party. I called my father, who was out driving his cab. "Dad, before you became a cab driver, you were a championship coach. You trained some of the best racers in the business. Would you teach your daughter to beat one?"

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.

It had been five years since Julian threw away his status as the heir to the Young family just to be with me. Now, we were crammed into a leaky, run-down apartment, screaming at each other because we couldn’t make ends meet. The rent was one thousand five hundred dollars, our child’s medical bills were three thousand dollars, and he needed thirty thousand dollars just to smooth things over for his career. Yet, right in the middle of all this, Julian got into a fight with his boss and impulsively quit his job. I yelled at him, saying he still thought he was some high-and-mighty rich kid who refused to grow up. He just sneered at me coldly, claiming I had deliberately set a trap years ago to get pregnant and ruin his life. “If you hadn’t gotten pregnant on purpose, would I ever have ended up in a place like this?” I wanted nothing more than to slap him hard across the face. However, I remembered that last month, just to land a contract, his former business associates forced so many drinks on that once-arrogant man that he ended up with alcohol poisoning. With a quiet sigh, I accepted a fifth part-time gig from an agency, working as a clinical trial subject at a private hospital. By the time they drew my twelfth vial of blood over the course of seven days, I was so dizzy I could barely stand. However, as I finally stumbled back to our neighbourhood, I saw one of his old high school sweethearts hugging him, crying. “As long as you leave them behind, you can go back to the Young family! Why are you suffering like this? I’ve… I’ve been waiting for you this whole time.” Julian stayed silent for a moment before gently pushing her away. “She bore my child. Where else could I possibly go?” That very night, however, he came home wasted. He stumbled over, his trembling hands reaching out to choke me. “Why do I have to waste the rest of my life on you? Why couldn’t you and that sickly kid just die on the operating table?”

My online boyfriend dropped a bomb on me the day before freshman orientation day. He had been playing dice with a group of friends and lost a bet. Apparently, I was the prize. Before I could even figure out whether he was joking, he added me to a gaming group chat packed with more than a hundred people. The announcement at the top had already been changed. "Congratulations, Oliver! You just won yourself a 200-pound girlfriend!" A few seconds later, someone posted an old high school photo of me. It was a picture of me in my loose school uniform. As I was at nearly 200 pounds, my neck had practically disappeared into my shoulders. The chat instantly erupted. "Holy shit! That's not a girlfriend. That's a pig in human form." "A bet's a bet. Oliver, you have to do the couple challenge with her tomorrow." The jokes only got worse from there. Before long, someone even started a betting pool over whether I would have the nerve to show up the next night. My own boyfriend threw 10,000 at me and then backed out. "Don't blame me, man. You rolled a six. You won her fair and square." Oliver, the guy who had supposedly won me, stayed completely silent. Then, the girl everyone in the freshman group had already crowned the hottest girl on campus suddenly tagged me. "Lauren, you're coming tomorrow night, right?" I watched message after message fill the screen. Then, I smiled. They had no idea that I had spent the past several months preparing for the day I finally met my boyfriend in person. I was no longer the girl in that photo. I had gone from 200 pounds to 110. I'd been stopped by plenty of guys over the past two months. I'd gotten so many men asking for my number in the past couple of months than I had during the first 18 years of my life combined. None of the people laughing in that chat knew any of that. And I… Well, I didn't see the need to explain myself. Instead, I quietly put 3,000 on myself. My bet was simple. I would show up exactly on time. The entire group chat went crazy the moment they saw it. Mocking comments, jokes, and laughing emojis flooded the screen. I didn't say anything, letting their jeers fill the screen. Then, I sent one final message. "A bet's a bet."

News of my groom's death arrived, but I shed no tears. Instead, I quickly reclaimed his shares and had his death officially recorded. Why? I was reborn. In my previous life, my family had adopted three boys to accompany me since childhood, all of whom were potential candidates to be my husband. As the heiress of the wealthiest family in the country, my father feared I wouldn't be happy marrying someone else we weren't familiar with. I chose Jayden, the most capable of the three brothers—but just three days after the wedding, he passed away. In my grief, I gave up on remarriage. With Jesse and Joel's persuasion, I lived the rest of my life as a widow. Upon reaching eighty, I went to Massalia, where we once pledged our love. There, I encountered Jayden…who had supposedly died sixty years ago! He was living with my maid, who had gone missing decades ago, surrounded by children and grandchildren, living a happy and contented life. When I realized I had been deceived my whole life, I was so enraged that my vision suddenly darkened. I died of a brain hemorrhage on the spot. When I awoke, I had returned to the day the news of his death had arrived. Let's see how a man who should have died intended to continue living!

To help my husband, Ryan Whitaker, compete for the director position, I spend an entire month securing the sale of a luxury apartment worth tens of millions of dollars. On the day the contract is signed, Ryan hands the primary contract to Lucinda Brooks, a new employee who has just joined the company. When I demand an explanation, his eyes flicker with guilt. Still, he argues, "Lucinda studied abroad. She is more academically accomplished than you, and her Iridian is better. The client happens to have a foreign business partner, so it'll be smoother if she takes the lead on the signing." As he speaks, he wraps an arm around my shoulders, expecting me to compromise like I always do. But this time, I don't smile but continue to pull a long face. That very afternoon, I submit my resignation letter and hand over every core client under my management. Ryan is furious as he tears up the resignation letter and mocks me. "When I married you, I didn't even care that you only graduated from high school. Why are you picking a fight with a newcomer now?" I laugh. It's true that I don't have an impressive educational background, but he's forgotten one most crucial thing. I didn't earn my title as the company's sales champion through academic credentials.

For five years, Yale Xander worked as a lowly servant in the Xavier household, all to help his girlfriend, Moon Xavier, who lost her memory, remember him. He treated every man she dated with respect and humility. He let her take her anger out on him whenever she was in a bad mood. Even after her childhood friend kicked him down the stairs and broke both his legs, Yale still forced a smile and told her it was fine. All he asked in return was that she visit him more often. Just when Moon finally agreed to seek treatment for her memory loss, Yale went to the butler and asked to end his employment and leave. His best friend, Cody Xavier, rushed over. He grabbed Yale by the shoulders and shook him. “You’re leaving now? Yale, have you lost your mind? “Is this because Moon is marrying Justin? She has lost her memory! Just hold on a little longer. Once she remembers you, she’ll regret everything she’s done to you.” Yale fell silent for a moment. Then, he let out a bitter laugh. “I can’t do this anymore.”

I was superstar Grant's most obedient canary. By day, I handled multi-million dollar deals for him. By night, I played the role of his perfect plus-one. I never questioned his whereabouts, never fought for his favor, and never asked for a title. Until Tessa, the new starlet at his agency, showed up. She took my seat, took over my mansion, and even clung to Grant's arm to rub it in my face. "Reese is so understanding. She definitely won't mind, right?" And the superstar who usually cared so much about his public image just smiled, silently allowing her to cross the line. It was a pity Tessa didn't know that a canary who forgot her place would eventually get torn apart. And Grant didn't know that once the canary decided to settle the score, he wouldn't be able to survive in this industry anymore.

People in our circle told the same joke at every gathering. "Jason's wife can't give him children, so she sends women to his bed every day. I wish the hag at my house had that kind of sense." They had no idea that my mother-in-law, Kate, was the one who had found those women and used my name to send them in. The first time, Jason Gibson threw the woman out and had a terrible fight with me. Afterward, he spent over ten million dollars on jewelry to make it up to me at the auction house. The second time it happened, he had barely touched her hand when he threw up. Then, he fought with me again. Afterward, he bought an estate and told me I would be the only woman by his side. - That was until the tenth woman. This time, he shut the bedroom door and did not come out all night. We stopped fighting. We stopped speaking. Everyone thought I would do anything to secure my place in the Gibson family and hang on to them for the rest of my life. But when I finally took out the divorce agreement, no one believed it. Not even Jason himself.