Male POV Romance Short Stories & Family Emotions Novels

Every time Millie Johnson, my daughter, returns home from playing with my best friend's dog at his place during summer break, she brings home an expensive doll. I have no choice but to pinch pennies and save up for a gift for my best friend after seeing how much Millie loves the dolls. I return home earlier than usual one day and overhear Millie talking excitedly into her smartwatch from her hiding spot in her room. "Mission accomplished, Mommy! Daddy didn't suspect a thing!" I am momentarily stunned. I am convinced that I have misheard, but then I hear Millie ask for a reward. "You're taking your wedding anniversary photos with Papa today, right? Can I come along, too? I'm so sick of eating plain pasta with Daddy every day, Mommy!" I freeze, my breath catching as I snatch the smartwatch from her. I happen to see the photo that has just been sent over. Sophie Johnson, my wife—who is supposed to be on her janitorial duty this morning—is actually wearing a pure white wedding dress. I stare at the screen, my hands trembling uncontrollably as my heart skips a beat. Millie tosses her doll aside and hurriedly tells me off, "You can't just snoop on me, Daddy! I'll be heading out to play with the doggy later, so don't bother us!" She excitedly peers out the window and waits for her ride after saying that. I stand frozen in place, staring at the apology message Sophie sent just a minute earlier. "I'm so sorry, Steven. It's all my fault for blowing the business and making you and Millie suffer so much all these years. I swear I'll make it up to you, Steven." I feel a sharp pang in my chest, leaving me barely able to breathe. I don't want to confront Sophie yet, so I simply trail the car that has come to pick Millie up instead.

The morning of my wedding, my own sister locked me in a bathroom stall. The boy I had sponsored out of poverty couldn't bear to see my fiancée standing alone at the altar, so he stepped up and married Lillian Gates in my place. My sister was so moved that she claimed him on the spot as a brother and let him complete the marriage alliance with the Gates family in my name. My fiancée said, "Silas, you healed my legs. I love you. I respect you. But Liam and I have already registered our marriage. From here on, one of you is my husband, and the other is my boyfriend. Things between us can stay the same… alright?" I slapped her across the face. What she did not know was that her legs were never fully healed. In seven days, without my brace, she would be unable to walk again. What she also did not know was that my sister–so certain of her schemes–had never even seen our parents' will. So what made her think the company had been left to her?

After spending three years in a coma following a car accident, I finally woke up. Ever since then, everyone treated me with caution. They were so afraid of something happening to me again that they'd even worked out a schedule to make sure I was never left alone. Each morning, my younger sister, Jemma Cobb, helped me exercise and regain my strength. In the afternoon, my childhood best friend, Kian Mason, kept me entertained with video games. My parents cooked huge dinners to help me recover, while my girlfriend, Elsie Reid, picked me up afterward and drove me home. One night, as Elsie and I lay in bed, I wrapped my arms around her and laughed. "You guys don't have to worry about me so much. I'm a grown man, you know. I promise I'll take good care of myself." But Elsie shook her head, her expression unusually serious. "Kellan, you mean everything to us. We can't bear the thought of losing you again." Her words made me emotional. After everything I'd been through, I couldn't believe how lucky I was to have so many people who loved and cared about me. At least, that was what I thought until the day I accidentally discovered a group chat on Kian's phone. Everyone was involved—my parents, my sister, my best friend, and even my girlfriend. Everyone but me. The group was called "Save Elsie's Love Life." The latest message was from Kian. "Kellan and I just got to the arcade. You're good to bring Jude home now." Confused, I scrolled up and found a message from my sister. Jemma said, "I've got Kellan at the park near our neighborhood. Elsie, don't bring Jude here for breakfast today." Then, I saw one from my parents. "Kellan's finished dinner. Drop Jude off first, then come pick him up." My fingers went numb as I stared at the screen. I tapped on the profile picture of the group member named Jude Johnston, and my blood ran cold. I recognized him immediately. He was the man responsible for the accident that had left me in a coma for three years. Now, he was dating my girlfriend. Worse still, everyone I'd trusted—everyone who'd claimed to love and protect me—had been helping them keep their relationship a secret all along.

A week before we're supposed to register our marriage, my fiancee, Celine Payton, asks me to book eight train tickets to the beach. She says it's our last trip before we get married, and everyone close to us is going. I spend three days scrambling for tickets and finally manage to get eight seats together. After I pay, a group poll pops up in a chat called "No Henry Sharp Travel Group." The question is simple. "Should Henry come with us?" Seven votes are against it while one person abstains. Not a single vote is in my favor. The voters include Celine, my older sister, Celine's childhood best friend, and my younger cousin, whom I had practically raised. I ask Celine if she's the one who abstained. She rubs her temples. "Yes. I didn't vote against you, and that's already me looking out for you. "Everyone's worried you'll try to control everything and complain about this or that. No one will have any fun. Just give me some space before we get married, okay?" I ask, "Then why do you still have me book eight tickets?" Her answer comes naturally. "You're good at getting tickets. The eighth seat gives us extra room for luggage. I'll send you the money later." My older sister, Joanne Sharp, tries to reason with me. "We're about to be family. Don't let a few tickets ruin your marriage." I look down at the eight seats sitting side by side. So I spend three days scrambling for tickets, not because I'm going with them. I'm only helping everyone else book a trip that doesn't include me. The app reminds me that I have ten minutes left to cancel the tickets. But by then, I don't care whether I can get a refund. What matters is the woman I'm about to marry. Even when everyone else turns against me, she can't bring herself to cast a single vote in my favor.

My wife forces my sister to accompany some men for drinks so she can help her first love get investments. My sister finds an opportunity to run but gets harassed by other drunken men. As she tries to break free, she has a heart attack, and she dies. I'm devastated as I handle her funeral alone. That's when my wife calls and snaps, "Tell your sister to apologize to Claude! Do you know how much trouble she's caused for him?" I don't know how much trouble he's in. All I know is that one must pay the price for the things they've done.

On the day of my wedding, I waited on the stage for six long hours with the wedding ring in my hand. The bride never came. Instead, I was greeted with the sight of my older sister's bloodied corpse. To make things worse, my wife, Winona Graham, was the one who defended the murderer in the court. I demanded answers from Winona like a madman, only to be locked up in an oven that was toggled to 200 degrees Fahrenheit by her. "Are you done, Arthur? It's Annabelle's own fault that she died in the first place! This has nothing to do with Hudson at all! He has just started his life as a young adult, and I won't let you ruin his life! "Just sit here and reflect on yourself! The moment you decide to sign the Letter of Understanding is the moment I'll get someone here to free you from the oven!" After that, I was trapped in the oven for 12 hours, resulting in my death from getting burned alive. When I open my eyes again, I've returned to the day Winona throws the Letter of Understanding in my face.

I'm born different, with two hearts inside my body. This is the only thing about me that makes my parents happy, because my brother, Tristan Foster, has congenital heart disease. They bring me into this world only so he can keep living. Then I meet Cindy Green and marry her. She pulls me out of the desperate need to chase my family's love. I think she's going to be different from my parents. But when Tristan's condition flares up, she becomes obsessed with wanting me to donate one of my hearts to him. What she doesn't know is that I only have one heart left. The other one is already beating inside her.

My wife has an emotional breakdown after being violated. She insists I'm the one who orchestrated it, but both our parents know her true love is the actual culprit. Still, they don't object to her insane retaliation. They even have me locked up in a prison abroad. As I'm tormented, she sells my company to help her true love get away scot-free. Ultimately, he's set free, but I die without even having a final resting place. When a judge informs her to collect my body, she sneers and says, "I've had enough of this nonsense. Does he think he can get away with a fake corpse? I won't even bat an eye if his body is flushed down the drain! He's nothing but a disgusting criminal!" Later, she realizes that I've truly died. She's delighted, but her laughter soon turns to tears as she holds my corpse.

My bride went missing on the night of our big day but woke up in my brother's room the next day. My parents persuaded me to ignore it for the sake of fame but scolded my wife as an easy girl. Angrily, I moved out of the villa with my wife. Soon after, my wife had a miscarriage and suffered from depression due to gossip. She jumped off from the top floor in front of me. Desperately, I followed her. Opening my eyes again, I found myself back to the time when the wedding ended.

On the day my daughter, Dakota Bradshaw, gets into a car accident, I rush over to save her, only to get crippled instead. Both my wife, Delilah Rowland, and Dakota don't mind the fact that I'm being a burden to them. Instead, they put in a lot of effort to take good care of me. But one day, a fire breaks out at home. Yet, Delilah personally closes my room door. Since I'm crippled, I end up falling to the floor in my state of panic. That's when I notice Dakota's shoes through the gap under the door. "Dakota, save me!" I call for help at the top of my lungs. But only the sounds of the crackling flames respond to me. I have no idea how much time has passed when I catch wisps of a conversation hazily. "Mom, the firefighters are here. What should we do?" Dakota's voice is very low. Delilah replies calmly, "Tell the police that your father started the fire when he was cooking. We just reached the corridor at that time, so the doorknob was already warped from the fire." Dakota simply says one word. "Okay."

On the day my wife, Adele Bellamy, rang the opening bell on Merrow Street to take her company public, my daughter and I sat in the audience. When my daughter was invited onstage to speak, she took the microphone and asked me in her small, childish voice, "Daddy, did you really get Mommy by being a homewrecker?" The hushed hall erupted as if a boulder had crashed into still water, and countless camera flashes swung toward my pale face. "Mr. Linwood, is what your daughter said true?" "If his own daughter said it, it has to be true! That's a juicy high-society secret. Bet he never expected his own kid to be the one to spill it." "Haven't you heard? Ms. Bellamy used to have a childhood sweetheart, and then they split up out of nowhere. Maybe he broke them up so that he could take that guy's place!" Amid the uproar, I rushed onto the stage in a panic to explain myself, but the moment I opened my mouth, Adele pressed her hand down on the back of mine. "Yes. He was the homewrecker."

In the third year of working to raise money for the medical expenses of my girlfriend, Christine White, she once again fell into a critical condition. During these three years, I used up all my savings and mortgaged the house my parents had left me. I delivered takeout food, washed dishes, and even sold my blood just because she said she would marry me when she recovered. I continued to naively gather money for her medical expenses. While delivering takeout at the entrance of an upscale nightclub, I heard her boasting to her friends. "That idiot Micah Jenning. I just made up an excuse about being sick, and he believed me like a lapdog! Not only did he empty his tiny savings, but he actually worked delivering food and driving Uber! I heard he even worked on a construction site a few days ago to make money! Tell me. Isn't he the ultimate simp? How pathetic.” At that moment, the heart that loved her for three years suddenly died. I dropped the food delivery and turned to call the rich heiress who had waited for me for three years. "Hayley Smith, you once said that you would marry me if I were willing to marry you. Does that statement still stand?"

I'm a nationally certified animal trainer running the Lion King, Caesar's final assessment. I've barely stepped into the enclosure corridor when the steel guillotine door slams down behind me. My wife's laughter crackles over the loudspeaker. "Everyone, we're doing the ultimate challenge today! We're locking the so-called number-one animal trainer in the Lion King's enclosure and taking bets on whether he wets himself in ten minutes!" Caesar crouches low and rumbles a warning. I reach for my tranquilizer gun but stop cold. The liquid isn't the right color. In a phony sing-song voice, the veterinarian, Hugh Archer, says, "Lucian, I forgot to mention, I swapped your tranquilizer darts for pepper spray so you won't hurt Caesar by mistake. "You two are so close. Just win him over with love!" I look at Caesar, his eyes bloodshot from the stimulant, and it clicks. Hugh still resents that I stopped him from touching a tiger with his bare hands a few days ago. I tune out the trash blaring over the loudspeaker, pull a remote from my pocket, and hit the button. It's the master switch for the electric fence gates around every predator enclosure in the zoo. If I don't make it out, no one does.

When my best friend died, his wife, Mia Lewis, was eight months pregnant. Mia said she didn't want her baby growing up without a father. I owed my best friend my life. He saved me, literally pulled me from death's door. So I stepped up, marrying Mia and raising their son as my own. Mia loved her career, so I quit mine. Traded my job for diapers and school runs. For seven whole years, I cooked, cleaned, folded laundry, and handled the housework. Rain or shine, sickness or health, I was there—every single day. Mia, though? She stayed cold, distant. Her warmth only surfaced in the bedroom—and even then, it was a flicker, never a flame. Just soft sighs and breathy murmurs, like she was playing a role she couldn't wait to finish. Afterward, she would quietly check the condom, as if she couldn't trust me. Then came New Year's Eve. A snap. A tear. A broken condom. Her fury struck like a thunderclap. She locked me out on the balcony, left me standing in the freezing rain, soaked to the bone as the wind howled like a wounded beast. Teeth chattering, I shivered as I watched the door like a dog, waiting to be let in. Then I saw him. Our boy, Ethan Bailey. Six years old. My son, at least in name. He came running with an umbrella in his hand. For a second, my heart leapt. 'Maybe, just maybe…' But he didn't even look at me. Just walked past in silence and handed the umbrella to the nanny heading out. Right then and there, something inside me cracked. I knew it was time to go.

My girlfriend was a police officer. One day, I got kidnapped, and the explosives on my body were ten minutes away from detonating when the kidnappers ordered me to call her. Instead of worry, all I got was relentless scorn and a tongue-lashing. "Caleb, are you seriously doing this right now? How could you be so petty and jealous when a life is on the line?! Lucas' cat is in danger. It has been stuck on a tree for three days, and that cat is as important to him as his own life! "If I don't save them in time, you'll be the one at fault!" Over the line, I heard the voice of a young man that sounded, to my ears, anything but genuine. "Thank you Jamie, you're the best!" That man was my girlfriend's childhood friend, Lucas White. Before the bomb exploded, I sent her a final message. [I hope we never see each other again. Not in this life, and not in the next.]

My in-laws were old-fashioned. They insisted that spending New Year's in their hometown was a must for a smooth year ahead. We could not get train tickets, so we decided to drive back. When my wife’s first love heard about it, he insisted on coming with us. He even brazenly took the front passenger seat from me. “Charles, I get carsick easily. I can only sit in the front.” Evan shot me a disdainful look. "It's just a seat. Why are you being so touchy?" “If you knew how to drive, would this even be an issue?” My in-laws chimed in as well. “You’re a grown man. Why are you making such a fuss over something so small?” Outnumbered, I had no choice but to squeeze into the back seat with my in-laws. Then, when we were passing a toll booth, Yvonne spotted a stray dog and was suddenly overcome with compassion. “That poor dog. Let’s bring it home with us.” I immediately objected, “The car is already full. If we bring a dog too, we’ll be over the limit. We won’t even be allowed on the road.” Before I had even finished speaking, Evan turned on me without hesitation. “Charles, in that case, why don’t you give up your seat for the dog? You can just take a cab back!”

The day I was released from prison, a woman claiming to be my ex-wife came to take me home. Instinctively, I pulled away when she reached for my hand. "I don't know you." She frowned, assuming I was still upset. "Five years ago, we agreed that once you got out, we'd remarry. Mom's getting older, and she misses you." Hearing that, I opened the diary I always carried with me. Written inside was an instruction: 'If someone claims to be your ex-wife, go home with her.' So, I did. After I returned home, I became the perfect husband and the perfect son in their eyes. When my ex-wife seemed to be fooling around with my younger half-brother, I pretended not to notice. When my mother openly admitted she loved my brother more, I never argued or complained. Yet, they kept asking me why I had changed. I didn't know how to answer. But the diary had made it perfectly clear: as long as I behaved and did as I was told, I could save enough money to leave quietly. What they didn't know was that I had been diagnosed with early-onset Alzheimer's disease. Be it hatred or love, I'd forgotten it all long ago, them included.

When Bradley Jaeger heard that his mother had suffered a sudden brain hemorrhage and slipped into a coma, his mind went completely blank. Without a second thought, he rushed out of his office. However, Sierra Perkins stopped him with a cool, flat voice. "It's still working hours. Where do you think you're going?" Bradley's eyes reddened as he faced the woman he was about to marry. "My mom is in the hospital, fighting for her life." "Going there won't change anything. You're going to be my husband; you should be setting an example, not ditching work." Sierra remained unmoved, and her delicate features were beautiful but coldly distant. Bradley froze for a moment. "But this is an emergency. I'm only asking to leave ten minutes early..." Sierra's tone grew firmer, and her voice was as cold as frost. "Bradley, go back to your desk. It's rush hour, so you won't be able to get a cab. Just wait for ten minutes, and you can ride over with me." It was indeed rush hour, and rides were hard to come by. Besides, all he had to do was wait ten minutes. In a daze, Bradley turned around and sat back down at his desk. Over and over, he tried to convince himself that Sierra had a point. Yet for some reason, his eyes burned and ached unbearably.

At Opaline Corp, the lowest-performing employee had to eat a plate of pasta mixed with live worms. This time, Tristan Crocker lost three clients and landed dead last. To keep Tristan from feeling singled out, my wife, Wendy Kline, hit me with a nine-million-dollar performance penalty because I showed up one minute late while sick—even though I'd brought in three million in revenue. Just like that, I became the first employee in company history with negative earnings. Grinning, Tristan shoved the plate toward me. "Wendy updated the company rules last night to keep everyone in line. Anyone who's late gets penalized three times their performance. You always said mistakes deserve punishment. Now that it's your turn, you're not backing out, right?" Every eye in the room locked on me, waiting for me to lose it. Wendy quickly sent me a message: [The nine million is only on paper. It's not a real fine. With your talent, you'll earn it back in three months. Tristan's allergic to worms. If he ends up in the hospital over a punishment, it'll damage the company's reputation. And if people hear we punished an outsider, that'll look even worse.] [You're my husband. You're one of us. I love you, which is why I'm giving you the chance to show some leadership.] [Once this blows over, I'll give you an extra twenty dollars a month, okay?] When I didn't reply, she finally snapped. "Company rules apply to everyone, even the top performer. If you don't like it, you're free to leave." I nodded, unclipped my badge, and set it on the table. "Fine. I quit." I looked at her. "And while we're at it, let's get divorced."

As the iron gates of the mental institute swing open, my wife, Serena Seacrest, walks in with her childhood sweetheart, Adrian Cross, beside her. She looks at me with utter disgust. I am strapped tightly to the bed, unable to move. She sneers, "Damian, you've been subjected to electroshock treatments for an entire month. Is your mania any better? You pushed Adrian down the stairs and nearly broke his leg, so I sent you here to teach you how to be a normal person." Serena tosses a worn-out pink comfort bunny onto the floor and speaks as though she is granting me a favor. "Get down on your knees and apologize to Adrian. If you do, I'll be kind enough to let you see Lila next month." I stare blankly at the dusty bunny, but I am unable to make a sound. Serena frowns and curses, "What a complete nutjob." Then, she turns around and closes the door. What she doesn't know is that a month ago, on the day she forcibly dragged me onto the mental institute's transport van, our daughter, Delilah Vale, ran after me and was run over by a truck at an intersection, her body mangled beyond recognition. Delilah is dead now, and she will never hold her bunny again. And everything between Serena and me had ended that same night.