Plot Twists Romance Short Stories & Lovesick Fool Novels

Hannah Neate hated having her picture taken more than anything. When her company held a press conference, she forbade any reporter from bringing a camera inside. I had been married to her for three years, but we never had a single wedding photo. She had an effortlessly frigid personality and would not waste her time getting her photo taken. She believed that it was a poor use of energy and time. One day, I saw a photo of her and a man in a photo booth at the mall. It was displayed as a couple’s photo template at the center of the wall. They were nestled close together. The man’s gaze was doting, and she was smiling sweetly. I tore the photo down and threw it onto her desk. She merely glanced at it and said lightly, “Dwade was just being playful. He insisted on dragging me there. Why are you upset? It’s just a photo.” I laughed exasperatedly. I had spent three years trying to get a photo with her, but another man got one in just three minutes, like it was nothing but a game to him. I took off my wedding ring and placed it on top of that photo. Since that was the case, I might as well disappear from her life for good.

For ten years, he remained tangled up with her, and everyone in their circle laughed at him for being her forever backup plan. She had once said, “The housekeeper’s son? He’s fun to mess around with, but marry him? Not a chance.” No one noticed him standing just outside the door. With his fists clenched and his eyes burning red, he turned and walked away. That very day, he married someone else.

From the time I was 22 until I turned 30, Brianna Everly and I had a wedding every year. The only thing we never had was a marriage certificate. She said she was afraid of marriage, terrified that we'd end up like her parents. So I gave her eight years to prepare herself—until our eighth wedding, when Brianna showed up in the wrong wedding dress. It looked just like the wedding dress she'd always worn for our ceremonies, except for one detail. The name embroidered along the neckline wasn't mine. It was my best friend, Leon Stratford's. I was about to confront Brianna when my brother, Dominic Sterling, grabbed my arm. "Harrison, it's been eight years. What's the point of digging into it now? Just pretend you never saw anything." I stared at him in disbelief. "Dominic, you knew all along?" He stiffened and glanced at all the family and friends gathered at the wedding. "I'm not the only one who knows. Everyone does too." I stood there stunned, unable to find my voice for a long moment. "Why? Why did Brianna hold a wedding with me every year for the past eight years?" Dominic explained with pity in his eyes, "Having a wedding every year was Leon's idea. Except for the wedding when they actually got legally married, every wedding after that was one Leon had, and you had one too." It turned out the marriage certificate I'd spent eight years waiting for had been given to someone else long ago. Worse, I was the last person to find out.

"Mr. Reed, your request for euthanasia has been approved. The procedure is scheduled for next month. Please sign here to confirm." The staff member handed Ryan Reed a thick stack of papers. His fingers trembled over the page. After a few seconds, he slowly signed, his name scrawled as if it had taken all his strength.

For their fifth wedding anniversary, Xavier Parker gave Riley Quinn a gift: he forced 999 bottles of hard liquor down her throat. "Xavier, I really can't drink anymore..." Riley begged, her voice hoarse. He let out a cold laugh and leaned over her. "Your parents loved drinking so much they drove drunk and killed my entire family. You're their daughter. You must love drinking just as much." "I'm sorry." Riley's eyes reddened with despair. She had apologized countless times, so often that the words had become second nature. "But my parents already died to atone for that accident. Isn't that... enough?"

“Strip off her clothes!” It never occurred to Gwen White that her husband would order a bunch of men to strip her! Throughout the ten years of crushing on him and two years of marriage, Gwen loved Jared Crawford madly, but he despised and hated her to her bones. That said, when Gwen decided to leave Jared for good, he personally brought her back from the depths of hell and begged her to start all over again...

At six in the evening, Allen Bennett prepared a perfect dinner, with each dish carefully chosen to match Sarah Foster's preferences. By seven, he had run her bath, adding lavender essential oils and rose petals to the warm water, filling the bathroom with a calming fragrance. By eight, he placed her comfortable slippers by the entrance, awaiting her return. At nine, the front door finally opened. Sarah walked in, and Allen immediately went to greet her. With practiced grace, he helped her out of her coat and placed her slippers before her feet, then hung the coat in the entryway closet. Turning to her with a gentle smile, he asked, "Would you prefer to have your bath first or would you like to eat?"

My daughter Mia's congenital heart condition had worsened. She desperately needed the one-of-a-kind miniature artificial heart I'd spent five years developing. The night before surgery, my wife Victoria stole it from the cold storage unit. I rushed to the hospital like a madman, only to find her at the bedside of her first love Dominic Forsythe's son, prepping him for surgery. "Mia can hold on for another six months. Dominic's son can't wait." "What kind of father are you, being this selfish?" Victoria stood there, righteous indignation written all over her face. I looked at my daughter lying in her hospital bed, barely clinging to life, and dialed the overseas number I'd refused a dozen times before. "Professor Ellsworth, this is Nathan Hartley." "I'll accept your offer. But I need you to arrange a medical transport—immediately—to bring my daughter to your facility. Her heart needs emergency intervention." I spent five years developing a life-saving heart for my daughter. Victoria stole it overnight and gave it to Dominic Forsythe’s son. “Mia can hold on for another six months. Dominic's son can't wait.” She had no idea I held all the core patents for that heart. That same night, I took my daughter aboard a medical jet and fled the country. The next time we met, you would be on your knees begging me.

Teresa Gardner, my girlfriend, is thrilled when I hand over the design drafts I spent so long working on to Quentin Solomon, her first love. She is so happy that she agrees to travel to Jarevon with me. Yet the moment we reach the airport, Quentin calls her. "I got into an accident. I really want to see you right now. Please don't leave with him, Teresa!" Teresa, who is usually so level-headed, panics and desperately pleads with me to let her go see Quentin. In the end, even as our friends keep sending us well wishes for our trip to Jarevon in the group chat, I can only smile as I release Teresa's hand and let her go to Quentin. Teresa's eyes well up with tears the moment she sees how thoughtful and understanding I am, as always. "I swear this will be the last time. I'll come back and marry you once I've checked on Quentin's condition, Aaron." I remind myself it's the 96th time I've done this for Teresa. I muse that perhaps I just have to hold on a little longer. If fulfilling these last three requests doesn't fix things between us, I'll walk away completely—Teresa and I will go our separate ways and never cross paths again.

Josephine Ellery was dead, and everyone said Tessa Wrenford had killed her. "Tessa Wrenford, you have been found guilty of involuntary manslaughter. I sentence you to five years in prison." The judge brought down his gavel. Still dressed in her jail uniform, Tessa was led out of the courtroom by officers gripping her arms. From the gallery, Beckett Lockridge watched her with an icy stare. He was the man she'd loved for ten years. Now he was also the man who had put her behind bars. When their eyes met, she could almost hear the words he wanted to say: "Tessa, I'll make your life a living hell."

My wife, Jolene Stephens, and I both cheated. The difference was that she chose to betray me while I had been made to cheat. She got me blackout drunk the same night her affair with Leon Homes came to light. Then, she stripped me naked and left me in a hotel room with a stranger. She posed my unconscious body in degrading positions and took photos to create evidence of my "affair." Both our cheating photos were exposed consecutively, and the public outrage against her little lover was offset. A huge wave of nausea rolled over me, making me dry-heave over the sink. My body was covered in red marks. The thought of what the stranger had done to me drove me to fits of terror. My wife watched as I scrubbed my skin until it split and bled before saying quietly, "I didn't have a choice. Leon's from a conservative family. It would destroy him if word got out that he was a homewrecker." The internet tore me apart overnight. My grandfather, Bruce Tillman, the only kin I had left, suffered a heart attack after seeing the news and was rushed into the emergency room. I had to protect her just to protect myself. So, I repeated the lie she needed me to tell under a wall of flashing cameras and microphones. "Neither of us cheated. Ms. Stephens and I had already separated long ago."

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.

I slit my palm and fed Irene Arlington my blood to keep her alive when we were trapped in a blizzard. The tissue in my legs had died from hypothermia. I had been in a vegetative state for five years. When I woke up, I heard a conversation between her and the doctor. “Mrs. Bradshaw, your husband’s condition is stable right now. There’s a good chance he’ll wake up. Are you sure you want to go through with euthanasia?” She spoke calmly, like she had already made up her mind. “Money isn’t the issue. I’ve already poured five years into him. I just can’t do this anymore. “With the way he is now, he’d be better off dead.” Those words hit me like a ton of bricks. Irene used to cry and beg me to stay alive. Five years had worn her down, and the woman I once knew was no longer the same.

She'd loved him for four years. But just before their wedding, she was forced to pretend she'd betrayed him, leaving him no choice but to let her go. When he found out she'd cheated on him, he flew into a rage and made her life a living hell. “Summer Blake, you should be grateful I haven't killed you.” It wasn't until much later that he realized just how empty his world had become without her.

I have been dating my manager boyfriend, Caleb Frost, for five years. He calls off our wedding 52 times for Gina Lowe, an aspiring actress on the set. On the day I am ready to give up on him and walk away, Gina falsely accuses me of using expired makeup on her that caused an allergic reaction. So Caleb shoves me into a sealed cellar and locks me inside. As he pushes me down, his face is twisted in disgust. "It's one thing to pick on Gina, but to use expired makeup on her and cause an allergy? Do you know how important an artist's face is? "Stay down there and think about your wrongdoings." With that, he drags the crying Gina to the hospital. The cellar's air vent is blocked. Every breath I take grows harder until I suffocate to death inside. Three days later, Caleb remembers me only after attending a gathering with Gina. But little does he know, I am already dead from the lack of oxygen in that dark cellar.

I've been with Dominic Hayes, a gang leader, for ten years. But on the day he goes clean and leaves the underworld behind, his men address someone else as his woman. The hands that once held guns and spilled blood now gently slip a crystal shoe onto another woman's foot. He says, "Violet, she's not like you. You were willing to follow me through chaos without needing a title, but she can't do that." That day, I don't look back. What Dominic doesn't know is that I'm the only daughter of an underground mafia king. When my family found out I was running wild, they quietly prepared a good man for me. All that's left is for me to say yes.

Five years ago, I threw Jase Prescott out of my mansion like a dog. Five years later, he'd become a renowned professor, while I'd been told my illness was incurable. He swirled the red wine in his glass, his gaze icy. "Why aren't you out making the big bucks, Audrey? What made you switch careers and start drinking with men for money?" Bitterness rose in my throat. I forced a smile. "Can't be helped. I'm buried in debt. Jase, would you be generous enough to lend me a hundred thousand?" He splashed the red wine across my face. "Same old story." His voice was as sharp as a blade. "You're still rotten with greed." Looking at the way he hated me to the core, I finally breathed a sigh of relief. Thank God. He had no idea that the heart beating in his chest was mine.

Caroline Reed is sleeping with her childhood friend, Sheldon Graham, for the 999th time, and she's as passionate as ever. The next morning, Sheldon is covered in scratches and love bites. Every time he moves, he's reminded of the passion and the wildness of the night before. The tension from the night before lingers. Caroline rests against him, her slender fingers tracing circles over his firm chest. "Wear something nice tomorrow. You're coming home with me," she says casually. Sheldon looks up in shock, hope rising in his voice as he asks, "Are you… finally going to tell everyone about us?" Caroline raises an eyebrow and shoots him a sidelong glance. "Tell them what? I've got a date set up at home tomorrow. I need you there so things don't get awkward for him."

The biggest laughingstock at the city's most exclusive society gala is none other than Camille Ellery's boy toy, who completely loses his mind over his love for her. Ansel Wells is devastatingly handsome, with an air of innate nobility. Yet here he is, groveling on the floor in utter humiliation. "Ms. Ellery, being by your side and serving you for the past three years has been my greatest privilege. I'm willing to do anything for you. Just please, don't ever leave me." His slightly husky voice rings out across the entire ballroom. After a brief moment of stunned silence, Camille's girlfriends all burst into laughter, clearly envious. "As expected of Camille. Only you could turn a man this gorgeous into a shameless lapdog!" "But we've all seen how hopelessly devoted he's been to you these past three years. When are you finally going to make it official?" "If you don't want to give him an official title, why don't you lend him to me for a bit of fun?" Camille holds a glass of champagne, swirling it with lazy indifference as a soft laugh slips from her lips. "I'd be happy to lend him out, but you'd have to ask whether he's willing. As for making it official?" She scoffs. "Sure, he's gorgeous and all, but there's no soul behind those pretty eyes." As everyone showers her with compliments for her irresistible charm, her gaze cuts straight across the ballroom and locks onto Stellan Loxley, who's dressed as a waiter.

As the upcoming tour approached, the dance troupe suddenly revoked my position as the lead dancer. Anxious to get an explanation in person, I lost my footing due to my distracted state and tumbled down the stairs. While enduring the sharp pain and preparing to call for emergency services, a notification popped up on my phone screen: “Redwood Dance Troupe: Welcome our new lead dancer, Averil Wells, and our generous sponsor, Julian Ford." The accompanying photo featured two smiling faces—my husband of seven years, whom I had secretly married, and his pampered mistress. Julian had his arm wrapped around Averil's waist as he placed a gentle kiss on her cheek. Meanwhile, Averil clung to Julian's neck, her face radiating shyness and delight.