Contos de Romance sobre Melodramatic e Romances com Lovesick Fool

The day I found out I was dying, I ran into my ex-husband—yeah, the richest guy in the country—and his three-months-pregnant wife. He asked if I regretted leaving him when he got sick. I just asked for twenty grand. He told me I didn't deserve to live. What he never knew? Back then, when he was fighting leukemia, the only bone marrow match he had... was me.

On the day Zachary Lake stands at the pinnacle of global technology, accepting his award, I'm lying in a hospital bed, abandoned by doctors because I can't afford treatment for kidney failure. On TV, the host asks him to call the person he's most grateful for. Without hesitation, he dials my number. "Shannon, do you regret leaving me?" he asks. I clutch the astronomical medical bill in my hand, the paper crumpling beneath my fingers. Forcing a light tone, I reply, "Can you take me on as your kept woman now that you're a big deal?" On screen, his face remains expressionless as he hangs up without a word. Then, his cold voice pierces through the broadcast. "Now, I have nothing to feel grateful for." But what he doesn't know is that when he was on the brink of death years ago, I was the one who gave him my kidney.

To help Adrian Spencer get over his feelings for his cousin, his mother made a deal—with Zoey Landon, the girl who had been secretly in love with him for years. They signed a contract. It gave Zoey ninety-nine chances. If even once—just once—Adrian chose her, she’d get what she wanted: to become his wife. But if he never did, she’d be sent overseas for good. No return. No exceptions. Zoey knew how hopelessly obsessed Adrian was with Claire Spencer. Still, she signed without hesitation. Ninety-nine chances. She refused to believe he wouldn’t choose her—not even once. But what she didn’t see coming was…

Right after I die, my wife goes on a date with her first love. I once told her, "If I die, I swear I won't love you in the next life." She scoffs. "Gladly. But people like you live forever, don't they?" Just as she wishes, I die. However, right then, she holds my urn close, whispering, "Are you still mad at me?"

My boyfriend of three years had a secret true love: my vicious best friend. For her, he swallowed my family business whole, froze every cent I had, and crushed my dignity into the dirt. When my father lay dying from a brain hemorrhage, I begged him for $50,000 to save his life. He refused cold-heartedly. At the exact moment my father died on the operating table, he was busy spending millions on rare jewelry for her. I didn't show up to our engagement party. Instead, I sent a "gift" that played on the big screen. That arrogant man went completely insane in front of the whole world.

One of Ethan Sterling's closest friends got drunk and humiliated me. Called me a nobody orphan who married above her station, said I'd never be accepted by the Sterlings, that I wasn't fit to sit at their table. Ethan smashed a bottle over the man's head. He announced in front of everyone that if anyone ever disrespected me again, he'd make them pay. When I was pregnant and the morning sickness was so brutal I couldn't keep anything down, he went and scheduled a vasectomy. He didn't want me to suffer through another pregnancy. This was a man who loved me like I was his whole world. And yet — when I was lying on the operating table about to give birth, he was standing right in front of me with his arms around Iris, putting on a show for anyone watching. Iris was the daughter of another old-money family and she'd donated bone marrow to save Ethan's mother's life. The night before her own engagement, her fiance betrayed her, and the trauma wiped her memory clean. Now the only thing she knew for certain was that Ethan Sterling was her husband. In her world, I was the homewrecker — the scheming woman using the bastard in her belly to force her husband into a divorce. Ethan promised me it was all an act. Just repaying the debt for his mother's life. Once Iris recovered, he'd walk away from her immediately. But when I picked up the surgical consent form for him to sign, and his first instinct was to pull Iris behind him — to shield her — I knew. His heart had already drifted off course. The fairy tale of a Cinderella marrying into high society was over. Time to wake up.

When Yasmin Smith comes to the courthouse to pick me up from work, she suddenly hands me a copy of her marriage certificate. "To tell you the truth, our marriage certificate is forged. I was just messing with you when I told you that I wanted to remarry you." Before I can register the news, Yasmin produces a brand new—and certified—copy of her other marriage certificate. She's already smiling bashfully. "Last night, Zach embraced me and kissed me throughout the night. It felt so good that I couldn't resist him at all. So, we ended up getting our marriage registered for real." I feel nothing but chills seeping through my pores thanks to Yasmin's second betrayal. As I stare at her in disbelief, I feel my voice starting to quiver. "Why?" "Because you're dumb." Yasmin chuckles lightly as she taps a finger on my face, which is starting to go pale. "Previously, it took you three years to find out about my affair with Zach. That's why I made another bet with him to see how long it'd take you to realize that I'm cheating on you again." My gaze lands on the hickey decorating her neck, which has yet to fade away. Then, she shrugs at me. "Zach thought that it'd take you one year. That's why I slipped up many times purposefully over the year. But I've already grown tired of acting, and yet you never picked up a single clue. "Today is the last day of the bet. I want Zach to win, so I have no choice but to come clean to you."

To leave something for her dying first love, my wife, Elara Wynn, decides to carry two babies at once, implanting his previously frozen embryo while she's already pregnant with our child. On the day of the procedure, she even stations 50 bodyguards outside, convinced I'll show up and try to stop her. But I never come. Once the embryo is successfully implanted, she finally relaxes. She doesn't understand why I'm making such a big deal out of it. All she wants is to leave something that belongs to her first love. She doesn't see anything wrong with that. Afterward, she comes to find me and says, as if she's doing me a favor, "Callum, aren't you happy I'm carrying twins now? Try to be the bigger person. What kind of example are you setting for the kids?" What she doesn't know is that while her first love's embryo survives the procedure, our baby doesn't. And I've already filed my immigration papers. In ten days, Callum Vane will cease to exist. I'll leave the country under a new identity, and she'll never see me again.