Historias cortas de Independence Romance y novelas ambientadas en Face Slapping

At the hockey game, my neighbor Bianca confessed her feelings to the team captain, Hudson, right in front of everyone. The moment she finished speaking, someone dumped an ice-cold soda right over her head. "Look at this greasy freak. Does she really think she has a chance with our star player?" The bleachers instantly erupted into cruel laughter. I watched her soaked hair stick to her face as tears mixed with the dripping soda. I walked over and shielded her from the cruel jokes. Then I pushed through the crowd and offered her a tissue. She slapped my hand away. "Stop being so fake, Harper! You're the biggest hypocrite in this school!" The next morning, I woke up and realized I was in Bianca's body. Before I could process it, my phone rang. It was a FaceTime call from Bianca from my own account. On the screen, wearing my face, she gave a smug smile. "I paid a witch a fortune to swap our bodies." "Now it's your turn to see what it feels like to be a loser everyone steps on." "Your life as a top model is mine now. As for Hudson and his insane abs, I'm keeping them for myself!" I hung up, stared at myself in the mirror, and smiled. I finally escaped the toxic mother who was draining the life out of me. I was also totally free from that cheating jerk who only played games with my heart. This idiot had no idea what kind of nightmare was hiding beneath my supposedly flawless skin.

Fairmont's golden boy, Hugo Fisher, posted a video on X late one night of himself playing with his dog. In the video, the dog ran toward the back of the room as soon as he heard footsteps. Hugo laughed and called out, "Your Mommy isn't going anywhere. What's the rush?" Fans immediately started trying to figure out who the "Mommy" he was talking about could be. Ten minutes later, rising starlet Lily Southall posted a photo of herself with the same dog. She was also wearing a ring on her finger. She captioned it. "Slow down next time." The post went viral in no time. Everyone knew Hugo had a secret lover, but no one expected it to be Lily. Social media quickly filled with hashtags. #GoldenBoyGoesPublic #DoggyGotAMommy #WeddingBellsSoon That same night, someone spotted Hugo kneeling outside a mansion with the dog beside him. He stayed there all night. Hugo said, "I swear you're the only woman I'll ever have. I don't know why this dog thinks some other woman is his mom, but if he really doesn't recognize you, I won't let him off the hook." The dog thought to himself, "That's so unfair. You're the one who can't win your wife back. Why are you blaming me?"

Years after graduation, I walked into a college reunion with a freshly printed wedding invitation in my hand, ready to give it to the man across the table. His eyes turned red as he asked me a question. "Do you remember an upperclassman named Derek Ashford? The one who brought you breakfast every morning and spent hours with you in the library?" I smiled and shook my head. He pressed on. "Do you remember running two miles through a downpour for his birthday? He said he'd love you forever." I frowned instinctively, my hand pausing halfway across the table with the invitation. Nathan Sterling, the boy I'd grown up with, came over and slipped an arm around my waist. "Who's Derek Ashford?" I leaned into Nathan's shoulder and lifted our clasped hands for everyone to see. "Let me introduce you all. This is my husband, Nathan Sterling." The moment those words left my mouth, every pair of eyes in the room turned to the man who had just knocked over his cup of tea. Tea dripped off the table edge onto his pants, but he didn't seem to notice. His gaze was locked on the diamond ring on my finger. His reaction baffled me. Six months earlier, Derek had brought Selene Dawson, his graduate advisor's daughter, back to the apartment we'd prepared for our wedding. She claimed to have amnesia. I ran out into a rainstorm and was hit by an out-of-control truck. When I woke up, every memory of Derek Ashford was gone. The only person left in my world was Nathan Sterling, my childhood sweetheart and the man I had come to love all over again. We had just made it legal at the courthouse.

I have a secret. If I touch anyone, I will be able to see the face of the person they love the most. Ever since Dominic Hatterson has moved to the house next door when he was seven years old, I'm the one he loves the most. When he holds hands with me as an 18-year-old, I remain the person he loves the most. When he proposes to me at the age of 22, I'm still the person he loves the most. On the morning of our third year anniversary, I tidy his collar for him. The moment my fingertips touch his Adam's apple, I close my eyes out of reflex. Yet, that's when I see two faces. One belongs to me. The other belongs to a woman I've never seen before. That night, Dominic's phone lights up. "Thank you for spending the day with me, Dom." It's been 21 years since Dominic and I met. I've touched him over 100 thousand times already. And yet, this is my first time finding a mistake.

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.”

Before graduation, the five of us decide to rent a four-bedroom apartment together. My older brother, Brandon Wiley, takes the master bedroom with the balcony. My childhood friend, Ricky Sparks, who streams for a living, claims the most soundproof room. My boyfriend, Gerard Albon, says he's swamped with work and needs a room that doubles as an office. And the bedroom with the best natural light goes to my best friend, Joan Corbet. No one asks where I'm supposed to sleep. Joan offers to share her room with me, but Brandon shuts it down at once. "Joan is a light sleeper." Ricky says, "Cynthia can sleep anywhere. She's been doing it since she was a kid. We can buy a sofa bed for the living room." Gerard nods. "She gets up early anyway, so the living room is perfect. She can make breakfast for everyone." They remember that Joan is a light sleeper. They forget why I've had to learn to sleep anywhere. When I was 17 years old, Brandon had to repeat a year and needed a quiet room to study, so I gave up my bedroom and slept in the living room for a whole year. At 19, I stayed up countless nights with Ricky while he streamed. At 20, when Joan couldn't sleep, I held her hand and sat with her until dawn. At 21, when Gerard had an internship in another city, I took a six-hour train ride just to bring him medicine for his fever. For five years, I gave up my bed, my time, and my own needs for them. So of course, they expect me to give in yet again. The rent is 4,000 dollars a month. I have paid the security deposit and agreed to cover half the rent, with the other four splitting the rest. And still, everyone gets a room except me. The real estate agent hands me the lease and asks me to sign as the primary tenant. Brandon urges me to hurry. "Come on. Joan is waiting to pick out the curtains." I take the pen, cross out my name, and hand the lease back. "I'm not renting this place anymore." I'm going to find a place where I have a room of my own.

I waited at the bus stop for three hours in the pouring rain, but Brandon Cruz never showed up like he promised. Just as I was about to call an Uber, I noticed the text he sent five minutes earlier. [Something came up. I can't make it.] A minute later, his assistant posted a photo on social media. I recognized the dashboard immediately. It was Brandon's car. Her caption read, [Best boss ever. Thanks for the ride home!] In the past, I would've blown up Brandon's phone, calling and texting him nonstop until he gave me an explanation. This time, I just tapped the heart beneath her post. Then I went home, packed my bags, and left without saying a word. That was when Brandon finally panicked. He searched everywhere for me. When he finally found me, he begged, “I can change! Just don't leave me!”

In saving Aspen Reid, I went blind. She said she would be my eyes forever and watch all the scenery that I would not be able to enjoy anymore. She taught me how to read braille and gave me a lot of love. I thought this was the best love ever. That was until my best friend, Liam Anderson, returned to the country. When we were travelling, she held Liam’s hand. I lost her and immediately called after her, but she said, “Ted, you’ve been blind for three years. Liam said you shouldn’t always rely on me. The hike down isn’t too difficult. You should be able to navigate the way out on your own.” She was right. She did not need to take responsibility for me. From then on, I decided that I would no longer need her.

On our anniversary, Gus King overslept again. When he woke up, I was curling my lashes in front of the mirror. He looked apologetic. “I’m still adjusting to the time difference. Please try to understand.” For the past month, he and a junior labmate had been traveling around the world collecting marine samples. I calmly put away my mascara. “It’s fine. I made plans with a friend instead. This makeup is too nice to let go to waste.” He relaxed, though his expression turned a little strange. After all, in the past, I would have thrown a fit and cried at him. Gus hugged me from behind and smiled. “You’re getting so mature, sweetheart. By the way, I saw the new photos you posted. Where did you go?” “Oh, Seaview City,” I said casually. “While you were away in the North Isles.” He froze. I’d spent the whole first year of our relationship begging Gus to take me to Seaview City to see the ocean. He always said he’d take me when he had time. For our second, third, and fourth anniversaries, he kept telling me to be more understanding, then headed off with his junior labmate to their next destination. In the fifth year of our relationship, I suddenly stopped waiting. It turned out that traveling alone was pretty fun too.

Five years of marriage, and I was finally pregnant. I couldn't wait to tell Neil—until I heard his mom say: "When are you going to tell Angela? Cece's already showing. This family needs an heir." "Just give me a little more time. I'll handle it." I froze in the doorway, the ultrasound report burning in my pocket. Neil Schmidt, your promises mean nothing.

Right after I had my uterine scraping procedure, Ian called. "Construction on Tina's new home officially starts today. I'm going over to keep an eye on things, so don't wait for me for dinner. "You're on your period today. Don't wander around outside for too long. Go home and get some rest." I touched my flat stomach and couldn't speak for a long time. All this time, Ian and Tina had been the design firm's poster children. One was a specialist in hard finishes, while the other was a prodigy in soft furnishings. Even our marital home had been designed by the two of them working together. But every time we discussed the plans, Ian would pull out another set of blueprints he had painstakingly refined and patiently explain to Tina the entire hardscape design he had created specifically for her new home. Every detail was a perfect replica of the dream house he and I had once imagined together. "Tina lives alone, and the house is small. Designing it for her is no big deal. "Besides, you're not pregnant yet. Once we have a baby, we can renovate the entire house, including the nursery, all at once. It'll save us trouble." For the sake of 'saving us trouble,' I had waited three years in a house where not even the walls had been painted. All I got in return were Ian's repeated excuses and empty promises. He didn't even know I was pregnant. He had mistaken the symptoms of my threatened miscarriage for a normal period. Tina's flirty voice came through the phone. "Ian, don't slack off! Come help me double-check the measurements we left for the bathroom cabinets!" The call ended abruptly. I took a deep breath as I listened to the harsh beeping tone. After waiting three years for this unfinished house, I suddenly didn't want to wait anymore.

My Android Husband Cheated On our wedding anniversary, I waited at home from morning until well after dark. The dishes in front of me had gone cold no matter how many times I reheated them. My husband, Adrian Hart, finally came home carrying a shopping bag. Beside him stood his pregnant assistant, Rachel Palmer. She stroked her belly and gave me a smug, triumphant look. Adrian slipped an arm around her waist and spoke to me in a gentle voice. "Sophie, move out of the bedroom. Rachel is pregnant, so she and I will share it. That way I can take care of her." I froze, unable to believe what I was hearing. "You got her pregnant?" He nodded under my shocked gaze. But Adrian was an android. He could not possibly get a human woman pregnant.

One night before our engagement, Darren Finch insisted on throwing a singles party aboard a cruise ship. He made it clear I wasn't invited. But in the middle of the night, I got a call saying he'd fallen overboard. Panic overtook me. Feverish and disoriented, I stumbled to the deck and dove into the sea without a second thought. The night waters were icy, sapping the strength from my limbs. As I was pulled back onto the deck, shivering and soaked, I heard laughter ring out from the crowd. Carrie Specter, Darren's childhood sweetheart, stood above me. She gave a soft, lilting laugh. "Seeing how far you're willing to go for Darren... I can finally hand him over to you without worry." At that, Darren wrapped an arm smugly around her waist. "Carrie, you really do know me best." "I told you," she beamed, "Paula would pass your test." I let out a cold laugh, slipped the engagement ring from my finger, and flung it at his face. "No, thanks. I wish you two eternal bliss. Just don't ever drag me into your drama again."

I donated so much blood to save the person Dakota Lennox had never gotten over that I went into shock. When I woke up, she tossed a divorce agreement at me. "I'm pregnant. Walter deserves a place in this family." When I refused, she showed up with Walter Kingsleigh and caused a scene at my mother's funeral, trashing the place. "Asher, sign this house over to Walter. He likes how peaceful it is here." I gritted my teeth, wishing I could tear her apart. But she only scoffed dismissively. "What? Are you refusing? In that case, you can forget about getting your mother's ashes." Walter put an arm around her shoulders and called out, "Dakota, we could put the urn on display in our new house. That'd be pretty unusual decor." I laughed, turned, and dialed a number. "Yeah. Dig up every one of the Lennox family's ancestral graves. Have them all moved to a public restroom downtown. I want every last one of the Lennox family's ancestors to watch those two shameless bastards kneel in front of a cesspool and cry, day after day."

Ten minutes before the IPO, my lower body started burning with intense pain. The pain was so bad that my knees buckled and I fell from the stairs on the third floor. I hit my forehead, which started bleeding, and fresh blood dripped into my eyes. As I convulsed on the ground, my hands covered my crotch as my skin felt like it was being fried in boiling oil. My fiancée, Yvette James, came over in her high heels and kicked me in the thigh. "What's with all the pretense? It's just half a bottle of ointment poured down your pants." Her bestie, Henry Curtis, had his phone held toward me as he livestreamed the situation. He was bent over from laughing too hard. "Check this out, fam! This penniless loser is burning from the waist down! It's too funny!" I could hardly breathe from the pain, and I begged Yvette to get me an ambulance. Yvette rolled her eyes and pushed the camera into my face. "Henry is targeting 100,000 viewers for this live stream! Can you scream louder? Don't be a buzzkill! That thing between your legs is just like a toothpick. That ointment might give you a growth spurt, so you should thank me for it." My lower body had gone numb from the pain, and I saw the comments section ridiculing me. I stopped begging for help as I stared coldly at Yvette while giving the orders to pull her funds. "The wedding is off. Be prepared for your company's bankruptcy."

In the year I came of age, my father, the King, intended to confer upon me the title of Princess of the State. My mother suggested that good things come in pairs, and proposed that a prince consort be named on the same day as my coronation. The court selected four proper young nobles. I would decide my choice by drawing lots. In my previous timeline, without hesitation, I had chosen Henry Lapointe, the heir to the Duke’s mansion, whom I had long admired, as my prince consort. But after we were married, I learned that he had a beloved. She was a woman who was said to possess the beauty of a goddess. She slashed her face eighteen times and sold herself into servitude at the Princess’s residence just to stay by his side. For years after our marriage, his heart would twist in agony every time he saw that woman. He believed that I had used my power to force her to disfigure herself and become a lowly servant to prevent them from being together. To seek revenge, he secretly poisoned me with a slow-acting toxin and conspired with his beloved to betray the capital’s defense maps. This led to the Ubury empire’s territory being seized, and I was forced into prison. He ordered men to force-feed me the poison day and night, which compelled me to serve dozens of perverted old guards. They literally tortured me to death. When I opened my eyes again, I had returned to the day of the Prince Consort selection. Amidst the uproar in the court, I drew the lot for Justin Yale, the hostage prince with the weakest political base. But on the day the royal decree was issued, Henry broke down.

The day Brianna Lindt is supposed to meet my adoptive parents, her phone stays off the entire day. Just the night before, she confidently promises that, as their future daughter-in-law, she'll win Mom and Dad over. But even after the server comes in for the sixth time to refill our drinks, I still can't reach her. A few hours later, I stumble upon a new post from Brianna's assistant, Elliot Collins. In the photo, Brianna is surrounded by shopping bags full of high-end gifts as she chats over drinks with his family. The caption reads, "My family's been hounding me to get married, so huge thanks to my boss for coming to the rescue and pretending to be my girlfriend." Brianna finally arrives at the restaurant that evening. "Michael, I'm sorry I'm late. Something urgent came up at work, and I had to deal with it." She takes my ice-cold hand in hers and soothes me in a gentle voice. "Knowing I was meeting Mr. and Mrs. Pearson today made me so nervous last night that I completely forgot to plug in my phone, so it stayed dead all day. Can you reschedule with your parents for another time, please?" We've been together for seven years, yet she can't even tell me the truth. Furthermore, the so-called work emergency is merely pretending to be Elliot's girlfriend so he can get his family off his back. Years of built-up disappointment finally spill over. I gently pull my hand away from hers, slip off my engagement ring, and say, "Let's call off the wedding. You can play his girlfriend for the rest of your life."

The day I found out I was pregnant, my fiancé, Shawn Gibson, told me he was going to marry the woman who was his first love, Suzie Sanders. Then, he asked me to marry his comatose older brother to help him get a wife. He said, "Suzie's family is forcing her into marriage. She's at the end of her rope. I'll marry her first, then figure out how to handle both families. We can still be together." I was shaking with anger and was about to throw the pregnancy test into his face. Suddenly, a young voice rang out in my head. "Mom, hurry and say yes! You mistook him for someone else that night! My real dad is his brother! And that coma? He's faking it! My dad is the richest man in the country! He's clearing out the traitors in the family and is about to make his grand return. "Marry him! This fortune is literally being given to us for free! We have to take it!" The richest man in the country? Then I was definitely marrying him.

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!

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.