Independence Romance Short Stories & Novels

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.

A week before our wedding, my fiance, Michael Gordon, secretly accepts a classified government job. He departs in a hurry, only leaving me with a simple, "Wait for me." Hope and expectation fill me as I hear that. Yet, for the next three years, he spends his monthly visitation day with someone else. Even when my mother falls terribly sick and I'm in desperate need of money; even when I cry heartrendingly just for a chance to meet with him or make a phone call, the only response I receive is the guard's exasperated message. "Mr. Gordon has already used up his visitation day. Please wait for the next month." Dejected, I get ready to leave. However, in the next second, Michael's childhood sweetheart, Liliana Zink, easily gains entry. "Mr. Gordon specifically instructed us to bring you straight to his office. He really does treat you very well. It's been a year since your breakup, yet he still worries about you being in a bad mood and spends his visitation days with you." As I move to rush inside again, the guard hastily stops me. "Don't even think about it. As if Mr. Gordon could possibly have any money. All his allowance goes to Ms. Zink." That night, I can't even afford to get Mom any painkillers. This is all my fault for being so useless. Nevertheless, I don't want to wait any longer. At last, Michael completes the project and returns, but I'm already married to someone else.

Whenever people from Meyruelle praised the 'beauty of the century', everyone would burst into laughter at once, scoffing. "Not only is she gorgeous, but she has the patience of a saint! She’s even raised two children for her husband’s mistress!" So when I finally asked for a divorce, not a single person took me seriously. David Thompson didn't even blink, casually tossing a check in front of me. "Stop making a scene and go buy yourself a couple of bags." My oldest son didn't even look up from his video game. "Stop bothering Dad. If you're going to get the hell out, just do it. Stop faking it." My youngest son called his biological mother directly. "That old witch looks like she's finally leaving. Mom, get ready!" Even the house staff shook their heads, warning me to stop playing hard to get. However, facing everyone's mockery, I didn't feel any sadness or anger. I simply dialed the phone number I knew by heart. "Muriel, our ten-year agreement is up. The debt I owed you for saving my sister's life is officially paid off."

Everyone in the circle called me the chatty woman around Wilson Lewis, who had poor hearing and was notoriously aloof. I would stand up for him, take drinks on his behalf, and accompany him to the hospital. When he had to get his hearing aid adjusted, I would crouch beside the table to replace its batteries for him, yet he never so much as looked up at me. One time, I drank on his behalf until I was dead drunk at a wine party, but he only glanced down at me calmly. Another time, I spent the entire morning waiting with him on the day of his follow-up checkup, but he texted his unattainable love, Noelle Surrey, instead. Wilson: [Have you eaten lunch yet?] During our three years of marriage, I became a joke in the eyes of others. On the night of our wedding anniversary, he wanted to make things up for the birthday celebration he owed me. When I was being dragged away through the back alley of a convenience store, I saw him sitting in the Maybach parked at the alley entrance through the half-open car window, unboxing a cake. I screamed until my throat bled, my fingernails digging into the wall. He glanced up at the alleyway entrance, took off his hearing aid, and put it in his pocket. When I got home in the wee hours, he was still helping Noelle with her resume. Seeing my disheveled state, he just frowned and said, "Jaclyn Scott, can you please stop making such a scene every time?" Noelle chuckled on the other end of the phone. "Wilson, is she playing victim again?" I pushed the divorce papers and a USB drive in front of him. "Wilson, I'm done making a scene. This time, it's your turn to listen."

Holding the recommendation letter that would secure a return to the city, my fiance, Wesley Dalton, came to find me. Right behind him stood the fake heiress, Madelyn Hart, quietly wiping away her tears. Without hesitation, he ordered me to give up Willowville's only spot at Ashford Textiles. Madelyn was too fragile, he said. There was no way she could endure being sent to work in the countryside. Every elder in Willowville urged me to be sensible. Certain I'd do anything to save this engagement, they waited for me to break down in tears and give in. Instead, I smiled and tore our marriage contract to pieces right in front of both families. "She can have the position. And I won't be marrying you either." Everyone laughed, convinced I'd gone mad. They bet I wouldn't last three days before begging Wesley to take me back. Defying them all, I went to register my marriage with Logan Cross, a rugged retired veteran whom everyone else looked down upon. Three months later, Wesley kicked open my front door, his eyes red. He dropped to his knees and choked out that he regretted everything. But when he looked up and saw Logan kneeling on one knee, washing my feet, he instantly snapped to attention. "Sir!"

On the day of my pre-wedding photoshoot, the photographer compliments me, saying I look just like my sister, Jenna Shaw, when I smile. My fiance, Clifton Cooper, immediately asks Jenna to change into a white wedding dress as well, saying she might as well take a few photos for keepsakes. When selecting the photos, the whole family gathers around Jenna's set of pictures and praises them. My mother, Victoria Winn, says Jenna is naturally suited to wearing a wedding dress. My father, Reginald Shaw, says she looks more radiant and poised than me, the bride-to-be. Clifton stares at the screen for a long time, then points to the one where Jenna glances back over her shoulder. "Jenna looks great in this one. Let's put this one at the wedding welcome area." Only when I ask him where my photos will go does he finally seem to remember my existence. "Since you and Jenna look so much alike, the guests won't be able to tell the difference. Besides, Jenna isn't getting married, so it isn't easy for her to get a chance to wear a wedding dress." A laugh suddenly escapes me. Ever since we were little, it's never been easy for Jenna, so I'm supposed to give in to her. Not only do I have to give her whatever she wants, but I'm not allowed to have anything she doesn't have either. Even my wedding has to be about making her dream come true. I pull the only photo of Clifton and me together from the album. In the photo, I stand beside Clifton, smiling with all my might. But looking at it now, all I feel is that I'm looking at a stranger. It turns out spring is never late. It's just that I've been standing in someone else's shadow, waiting for it. Well, this time, I don't want to wait anymore.

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.

Winter came again, and my husband and son broke out in rashes the moment the cold settled in. No doctor identified the allergen. To keep themselves safe, they drew a hard line and moved to a separate house for the season. It did not matter that I slipped and cracked my head open, or that I ended up in the hospital after a car accident. I fought every battle alone. We became strangers who shared a family name, and I became the thing that could kill them. I endured the bitter cold by myself, lonely and aching. I counted the days hoping that spring would bring my family back to me, until I overheard a conversation I was never meant to hear. "Daddy, we only get to see Daphne in winter. Cannot the allergies last a little longer?" Daphne Bullman, my husband's childhood sweetheart. My husband ruffled our son's hair. "All that allergy medicine is not good for you, and Daphne would worry. I will bring you to see her when I can." My son clapped his hands. "Yay! I love the mango candy Daphne gives me in winter, and I get to see her!" Mango. That was the fatal allergen I spent years keeping out of my son's reach. I stood in the freezing wind for a long time before I quietly walked home. Spring returned, and I stopped caring. "Eat whatever you want. If you think I am abusing you, call the police. I do not want custody anyway."

I am the last priestess of the Wintermoor tribe, blessed with the power to make wishes on behalf of others. But every time a wish is granted, I become physically younger. The year I get engaged to Ethan Hayes, I am 28. Three years into our engagement, he's left at death's door after a plane crash. That's the first time I make a wish for him. He survives, yet I become 23. Five years into our engagement, Ethan loses everything and attempts to jump from a building. I make another wish for him. He's wealthy again, and I become 18. Seven years into our engagement, Ethan brings home a terminally ill woman. He then drops to his knees, begging me to save her. I shake my head. "I can't. If I do it one more time, I'll turn three. By then, I won't be your fiancee anymore, and I won't even remember you." But Ethan sneers. "You saved me twice, and you were fine. One time for her, and you'll drop dead? Mirabel, spare me the excuses for your heartlessness." Later, Ethan stands at the edge of the sacred mountain cliff and threatens me with his own life. In the end, I save the woman. The next day, she's completely healed. Ethan holds her close, his gaze soft with affection. Then, he looks up at me and says, "I'll marry you once she's stable enough." I look down at my hands, now no bigger than a child's, and turn to leave. There's no need. In three days, I'll turn into a baby.

The day I found out that my pilot husband, George, had given our wedding band to his widowed childhood sweetheart as a talisman, I changed his contact name to Captain Tanner. When I was suffering from a severe stomach bleed, George got a call from Tammy, saying that her son had woken up from his sleep, missing his late father. Without another word, George walked out on me. He promised to be there for my follow-up appointment, but he was quick to change his flight for Tammy because she was afraid of the thunderstorm while at the airport. I snapped a photo of my medical evaluation and texted, “Have a safe flight, Captain Tanner.” It was the same old reply. “Quit acting up. Tammy and her son have had it tough enough.” Later, he booked our favorite restaurant to slip the ring back onto my finger in celebration of our seventh wedding anniversary. Before we could get inside the establishment, the call from Tammy came in. “George, I’m scared. Can you pick me up? Liam said that you’re the only father he’s got…” George took one look at me and opened his mouth to explain. I handed the ring box to the server. “Please dispose of this for me.” I then turned to him. “Captain Tanner, your passengers are waiting.”

On the day my wife, Rachel Carter, receives her Ph.D., I rush back from overseas. But when I approach her with a carefully chosen gift, she slaps me in front of everyone. "I'm a married woman with a family of my own. Stop trying to make me your lover!" I watch as she turns away from me and makes her way over to a family of four. "Honey, Mom, Dad, don't mind him. This man is crazy. Let's go," she says gently. Refusing to give up, I catch up to her and grab her arm. "What happened, Rach?" I ask. "Who's this scary man, Mommy?" a child asks. "Why does he keep bothering you?" Rachel yanks her hand away and pulls out her phone. "I've already called the police. Stop harassing me, you piece of trash!" As I stare at her retreating figure, a wave of exhaustion suddenly washes over me. I pull out my phone and make a call. "Notify headquarters, William. Cancel all plans to relocate our global headquarters back to Jekovia." After I hang up, I toss the gift into a nearby trash can and walk away without looking back.

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."

I spent three years winning the heart of Audrey Levingston, a woman everyone thought was untouchable. I gave up my entire career just to marry her and willingly became a stay-at-home husband. When she told me she was afraid of childbirth, I underwent a vasectomy the very next day. Everyone who knew us believed we would grow old together and love each other for the rest of our lives. But on our fifth wedding anniversary, I decided to file for divorce. My best friend and divorce attorney, Evan Chauncey, asked me again and again, “Are you sure? Back then, you turned down an offer from Vogue without hesitation just to marry her, and now, you’re telling me you want a divorce?” I swallowed the ache in my chest and replied, “Just draft the divorce agreement. The sooner, the better.” “Why?” he asked, clearly bewildered. My gaze fell on the exquisitely wrapped bouquet of black roses sitting on the dining table. After a long silence, I finally gave him my answer. “Because of a single bouquet.”

Six years after my divorce from my ex-wife, Enya Taylor, we meet again in a courtroom. She sits at the prosecution table, representing the prosecution in the case brought against me. I stand in the defendant's dock, accused of five counts of murder. The moment Enya sees my face, her eyes widen in shock. "Eric?" Her reaction doesn't surprise me. After all, no one would ever imagine that Eric Beckett, the man known for his gentle nature, and Ezra Beckett, the serial killer, were the same person. Tears well up in her eyes, and she clenches her jaw so fiercely that it trembles. "Six years. Five lives. Five families destroyed forever... Eric, how could you do something like this?" A low chuckle escapes me as I watch her. "Not just five, Ms. Taylor. Ryan White, your fiance and my former best friend, has been missing for a week, hasn't he? Care to guess where he is?"

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…

The It Girl, Kelly Hilton, claims she's an airhead beauty. When a D-list nobody like me joins her on a variety show, she takes my mother's keepsake pendant without saying a word. Then, she breaks it into pieces. Yet, Kelly shows no remorse, saying, "Oh, I'm just such an airhead. It's normal for me to break things by accident. Your mom is already dead, so just let it go, okay? Everyone has to move on!" I laugh in disbelief. "You think causing trouble is cute and having no manners is being genuine? 'Airhead beauty'? You're just an idiot. Don't try to make yourself sound better than you are." Kelly's eyes redden. "How could you scold me? I quit! I'll have my brothers deal with you!" The crew is stunned. "Is she crazy? Doesn't she know how protective the Litt family brothers are of their sister?" "They are obsessed with Kelly. They'd do anything for her!" I can't help but laugh. I've entered the entertainment industry in the first place because my brothers are too clingy. I may be a nobody, but I haven't lost my memory. How come I don't know that my brothers have a sister named Kelly?

She had served the king for three years, but the king, seemingly devoid of passion, had summoned her to his bedchamber no fewer than 999 times. When, at last, he succumbed once more to slumber, she slipped carefully from the bed, taking great care not to disturb him. Every mark of their recent intimacy remained upon her person. Very softly, she whistled. Within moments, a dark-cloaked figure alighted upon the window ledge with scarcely a sound. “Have you considered this thoroughly?” Ciaran Noche’s voice was cooler than the night itself. Gathering her robe more tightly about herself, she answered in little more than a whisper. “I have. I wish to quit the palace.” Ciaran regarded her. “Your name is entered in the palace rolls. You cannot simply walk away. Unless you are prepared to feign your own death and forsake your present face for the remainder of your days, there is no escape.” “So be it.” Snow nodded. Whether she must die in the eyes of the world or assume another countenance altogether mattered little. If it purchased her freedom, she would pay the price without hesitation. “I shall return for you in a fortnight.” Ciaran disappeared into the darkness, leaving no trace that he had ever been there. Snow looked up at the slender crescent moon in the sky and released a long, weary sigh. Soon, it would all end. She had never been meant to belong within the palace. Her arrival at court had been nothing more than an accident of fate.

I have an ability in which I can see the countdown to someone's emotional departure. The day Dad's countdown hits zero, he leaves behind divorce papers and abandons Mom and me. The day my best friend's countdown hits zero, she finally dumps her jerk of a boyfriend. I'm always terrified of seeing a countdown appear above Levi Hammond's head. But thankfully, seven years into our marriage, his head is still clear. I am thankful every day that I married a good man. However, when he picks me up from work last month, I look up and see bright red text burning into my vision. [702 days, 14 hours, 22 minutes.] That's less than two years from now. My heart clenches, and I frantically search for answers in my head. Have I done something wrong? Has he changed his mind? Things don't fall into place until our anniversary, when we run into his intern, Belinda Manning, outside his office building during a torrential downpour. She's soaked to the skin, but she still has a bright smile on her face. Levi hands her a pack of tissues to dry off, his face unreadable. However, in that instant, the countdown suddenly jumps. [327 days, 4 hours, 47 minutes.] The number of days has dropped by more than 300. The sound of rain is deafening in my ears. But I know now that I have found the reason for it.

The yacht carrying my parents and my younger brother, Dylan Marsh, exploded at sea. There were no survivors. I came home to an empty house and a mountain of debt I had no way to pay off. Numb with despair, I climbed onto the roof, ready to jump—when a stream of comments suddenly scrolled past my vision, as if I were watching myself from the outside. [Plot twist: your parents actually won three hundred million dollars in the lottery. They took your brother abroad to live it up.] [Lol, Dylan has no idea the poor, blind girlfriend he dumped is actually the eldest daughter of the Ross family. She's just been playing along, pretending to be broke.] [Once Dylan blows through all his money and comes crawling back, Celeste Ross is going to lock him in a room and make him pay for it.] [Come on, cannon fodder, jump already. Everyone's waiting for Dylan's big comeback.] I decided, right then, that I wasn't going to die after all. That night, soaked to the bone and half-drunk, I knocked on Celeste Ross's door.

My boyfriend, Zack Henderson, has a notebook that he specially uses to record my mistakes. He writes down every time I'm late for our dates, even if it's only by a minute. He also makes a note whenever the breakfast I buy for him gets cold. Once I make a total of ten mistakes, he punishes me by blocking my number for a week. Terrified of upsetting him, I do everything I can to keep him happy. I assume that Zack acts this way out of habit because he's a strict science student. However, I realize I'm wrong when I find a diary under his bed while helping him move into his dorm room. The diary is filled with photos of the prettiest girl on campus, Quinn Lombardt. "Her clumsiness is adorable." Zack writes when Quinn damages his limited-edition figurine. "I'm willing to travel as far as I need to to satisfy her cravings." He writes when she asks him to buy a viral cake in the middle of the night. On the last page is a hand-drawn wedding dress design. "I'm going to give Quinn the grandest wedding ceremony once she graduates." I place the diary back in its original spot. Then I make a call to secure my spot to further my studies abroad.