Feel-Good Story Romance Short Stories & Male POV Novels

On the day of my wedding, the eldest princess, Selena Winchester, suddenly fell critically ill. As she lay dying, she made one final request. She wanted one of the prime minister's sons to accompany her to death. The moment my half-brother, Nathan Carter, heard the news, he collapsed on the spot. Since he was the only unmarried son, everyone assumed he would be the one chosen. When my fiancée saw that, she tore off her veil. In front of everyone, she dropped to her knees before me. "Jonathan, I've never begged anyone in my life. But today, I'm begging you. Please let Nathan take your place in this marriage." I froze, unable to believe what I was hearing. Her eyes turned red-rimmed as she struggled to continue. "I taught you how to hold your breath. If you stay inside the sealed tomb for seven days, I'll find a way to rescue you. Once you're out, you can still stay by my side. But Nathan's different. He doesn't know how to hold his breath. He's timid and terrified of the dark. If he's buried alive with Her Highness, he'll die." I slowly closed my eyes, a bitter laugh escaping me. "And if I refuse?" The guilt in her eyes disappeared, replaced by cold determination. "Jonathan, once I've made up my mind, no one can change it." I opened my eyes and held her gaze for a long moment. Then I let out a cold, mocking laugh. "Fine. I do it."

On April Fools’ Day, I texted my wife and told her I was terminally ill. I told her that I had no more than a month left to live. I thought that if I made her cry, I would make it up to her with a villa. But as soon as I reached the front door, I heard her complaining inside. “Terminally ill? He’s already dying. Don’t tell me he’s going to waste money on treatment. “That money will be ours sooner or later. Why should he spend it on himself? “No. When he gets home, I’ll tell him I’m pregnant. “He loves me so much. He’ll definitely give up treatment for the baby and me.” Before I could process her words, I heard my best friend’s voice right after. “It’s no wonder you always say he’s up to no good. Every time you finish with him, you come to me so I can satisfy you. “I thought you were just greedy. It turns out he’s really that pathetic! “What do you think will happen if he finds out you’re carrying my baby? Do you think he’ll die even sooner?” Only then did I realize that my wife and my best friend had been having an affair for a long time. I laughed bitterly. Then, I turned around and called my assistant. “Don’t transfer the deed to the Bayhaven villa yet. Draft a divorce agreement instead.” She cheated on me and still thought she could take my money! She could keep dreaming.

I had been begging my wife for weeks, and she finally agreed to come to the movie theater with our son and me to catch the latest blockbuster. My plan was to wait until the credits rolled, then hit her with the big news: I’d just been promoted to general manager of the entire multiplex. Then, right in the middle of the movie, my phone buzzed with a wave of notifications from the work group chat. [Holy crap! Hall 3 is wild right now, 4K quality!] [Are people for real right now? Doing it in a movie theater like they’re glued together?] [Seriously though, ping janitorial ASAP. That row is gonna need a deep clean.] My mind went blank. Hall 3? That was the exact theater we were sitting in. Curiosity got the better of me, and I tapped on the video file. The second the screen lit up, my whole body froze. The couple in the video was sitting right in our row. It was my wife, sitting just past our son, locked together with the guy next to her. I spun my head toward her. Her cheeks were flushed, her breathing heavy. "What the hell are you doing?!" I snapped.

Mackenzie Lister, my germaphobe wife, refuses to let any man besides me touch her. She stays a full arm's length away even when posing for photos with investors. It stays that way until the day of my birthday, when Colin Sumner, her assistant, suddenly posts a photo on his social media. In the photo, Mackenzie lets Colin hold her around the waist from behind. "I finally got to meet the role model I grew up looking up to! I have to keep pushing forward and chase my dreams!" I leave a comment on the post. "You two are an item now?" Mackenzie calls me. "He has always looked up to me, that's all. Why do you always have to twist things around? You'd better not make a fool of yourself and delete that comment this instant!" Additionally, my colleagues also blame me for meddling too much in other people's business. Colin immediately posts an update. "I've learned my first lesson from my role model—don't waste your time arguing with petty people." I look at my social media feed, which is getting spammed with comments, and place a single phone call. The next day, every investment in Mackenzie's company is withdrawn.

The day I walk free, my wife is standing in the wind, waiting for me. There's no screaming, no hysterics. It's nothing like what I once imagined. Then our eyes meet. She's holding a black coat as she says, "Jude, you've lost weight." Before, I would have reached for her hand. I would have asked, in a raw voice, if it could just be the two of us from now on. But right now, I just turn away without a word. This time, we're only going to drift further apart. Lena Cartwright, I don't love you anymore.

On the day of our wedding ceremony, Nalani Smith shows up with her family of three to marry me. Her younger brother, Felix Smith, follows closely behind her, holding a child in his arms. I stub out my cigarette and ask apathetically, "Why don't I step aside and let you two have each other?" Tears immediately well up in her eyes, and she raises her hand to swear that there's absolutely nothing going on between them and that all those rumors are nothing but malicious slander from outsiders. I nod. When the officiant announces that it's time for the couple to exchange rings, Felix abruptly drops to his knees. Pointing his finger at her, his voice trembles. "But I'm the one you love!" Nalani neither confirms nor denies it. She merely stands there, tears streaming down her face. Noticing the anguish on her face, I fling her hand away and push her straight into his arms. "Go ahead. No one's stopping you from keeping it in the family," I say nonchalantly.

Jeannie Gray kicks me to the ground. I get on my feet, dust off the shoeprint she left on my pants, and smile as I straighten her shoe, which crookedly dangles from her foot. At that moment, my phone buzzes with a message informing me that Jeannie's older brother has wired my five-million-dollar severance pay into my account. I get on a flight and flee overnight, posting a link on Facebook Marketplace with the caption, "Hiring emotional support companion for S-tier psychotic female CEO from Elmsdale. Includes onboarding training. Pays 200,000 a month." Not three minutes later, young men in college looking for a shortcut to success flood the comment section with biddings. Two years later, I'm sprawled over a cot in a massage parlor. The masseuse, Rory Jacobs, has just begun kneading the knots in my lower back when someone kicks the lounge door open. As the door rattles against its frame, Jeannie storms in and pulls me into a tight embrace. Her voice is hoarse and shaking, and I feel hot tears falling on my neck. "Please come back. Gray Corporation is yours, and so am I!"

I'm playing hide-and-seek with my little niece. I close my eyes, count to 20, and head up to the attic, only to find the door padlocked shut. I turn to leave, but then I hear rustling on the other side. I tiptoe closer and press my ear against the wooden door. I'm about to shout, "Found you!" when I catch the sound of my buddy Alec Redmond's breathless breathing. "Cassidy, you think anyone's going to come up here?" My girlfriend, Cassidy Brennan, laughs softly. "Don't worry. I promised Cora I'd buy her that Barbie she's been wanting. She locked the door, so no one's going to find us." I freeze outside the door. My blood runs cold. This morning, Cassidy and Alec tell me they have a surprise planned for me. Then the two of them drive off together. I clench my fists until my knuckles go white. So, this is the real surprise.

After getting married, my financially savvy wife, Sophie Devine, takes charge of our family's finances. She questions me about every penny I ask for and gives me a monthly allowance of 1,500 dollars and nothing more. Sophie holds up the bill. "What do you need the money for again? You're going to exceed your spending limit this month. I don't have any extra to give you." I stare at the itemized list totaling 1,500 dollars. It includes our kid, Terry Parker's medical expenses and the cost of daily household necessities. I even have to cover the bill for the mess Sophie leaves behind after her business dinners. I don't spend any of the money on myself. Before I can say anything, Sophie's phone vibrates on the table. She answers it, her voice softening. "Emily got into a fight again? How much is the settlement this time? I'll transfer it to you right away." Ron Gellar sounds agitated. "They want 10,000 dollars. If not, Emily is going to jail." Sophie hangs up and immediately transfers the required amount to Ron. Emily Gellar is the younger sister of Sophie's assistant, Ron. Sophie is more attentive to Ron than she is to me, her own husband. I tell her calmly, "Mom got into an accident. She needs the money for her medical bills. How much can you give me?" Sophie casually tosses the ledger in front of me. "I told you, there's no extra money for you this month. She'll just have to hold on until next month, even if she's dying." This time, I don't make a scene or pester her. Instead, I just nod and say okay. Then I call my mother-in-law, Gina Reed, who is currently in the emergency room. "Your daughter refuses to pay for your medical bills."

I simultaneously become the kept man of three powerful, high-ranking women. The first is the aloof Grand Tutor, Misty Standish. Her heart belongs solely to her childhood sweetheart, the son of the chancellor's legal wife. The second is the rakish Marchioness, Sienna Fairfax. She flutters her fan and chuckles. "We both get what we want. There's no need to complicate business with feelings." The third is the all-powerful Princess Royal, Christina Livingstone. "Know your place. My consort will only ever be a nobleman," she coldly warns me. Everything changes when I save up enough money and return to my hometown to marry my childhood sweetheart and fiancee, Claire Mortimer. Ms. Standish lays her entire fortune before me. "I've called off my engagement. Please don't abandon me," Lady Fairfax pleads with teary eyes. Princess Christina shows up at my door with a groom's tuxedo. Hold on… Didn't we agree to keep things strictly casual from the very beginning?

My girlfriend, Eleanor Reed, tells me that her ex's father and grandfather have sadly passed away, so out of concern for her ex's mental health, she wants to be there for him. Meanwhile, her father, who's still bedridden at the hospital, becomes my responsibility. She tells me to take this opportunity to get on his good side so that I can win his approval sooner. After hearing that, I find myself admiring her relationship with her ex. Therefore, I decide to be her ex as well.

On the third night of my business trip out of state, I scrolled past a video of my wife locking lips with my best friend at a music festival. Jack Wilson and I had been brothers for twenty years. The day I married Emily, he cried like a baby and swore he'd give up everything he had if it meant I'd be happy for the rest of my life. But tonight, my best friend and my wife proved that promises don't mean a damn thing. After a few minutes of silence, I called Jack. "Hey, you end up catching that Bruce Springsteen show? Heard the production was insane." He paused. Then, casual as ever: "Yeah, it looked good. Saw some clips online." "Too bad you weren't there, though. Kinda boring going alone. When you getting back? We'll catch the next one together." I said sure. Hung up. Caught the next red-eye straight to his apartment. They took everything I gave them—my loyalty, my trust, my love. Now I'm going to take everything they have.

Before my mother died, she arranged a marriage for me. My bride-to-be was Rosalind Young, Kingsford's most formidable financial tycoon. Before I married her, I added three clauses to the prenuptial agreement. First, no feelings. Our marriage was purely business. Second, she could live her life however she pleased, while I'd live mine. Third, I would step aside immediately if her true love ever came along. Nevertheless, I would be getting double the alimony. Rosalind was quite pleased that I knew my place. Our marriage was a peaceful one until the day a teenage girl who bore a striking resemblance to her knocked on the door of our mansion and calmly said, "Sir, I'm Rosalind's daughter. She raised me elsewhere. I'm 17."

My fiancée canceled the five-million-dollar investment I'd made in my best friend's company and replaced it with a five-hundred-dollar transfer. She told me that real friendship shouldn't be measured in money. Three days later, she invested a hundred million dollars in her childhood sweetheart's company at the most expensive hotel in Manhattan, in front of Wall Street investors and the media. Everyone started cheering, telling her she might as well just marry the guy. She didn't stop them. Why would she? She believed that no matter what she did, I'd never leave. What she didn't know was that I owned the core system that generated most of Nexora's profits. I'd spent eight years building Nexora, the company she was so proud of, from the ground up. She also didn't know my last name was Hale. I was the sole heir to Hale Global Group, a conglomerate powerful enough to bankrupt Nexora with a single word.

My fiancée is beautiful and has a steady job. She's into drones, and she joined a group chat. I hinted to her, carefully, that the people in that group weren't right, and that if anything went wrong she'd be on the hook too. Then I joined the group myself on a burner account, and saw the way Alyssa carried herself in there. Several men who were obviously close with her kept posting flirty stickers. Alyssa's voice messages came back all bashful. “Stop it! You're all married men, and you're picking on me like this!” “Next flight, let's all go camping together.” Their plan was five men and one woman, two days and one night. And a drone taking photographs at twenty-six thousand feet. You'd have to have something wrong with your head to do that.

After my daughter was admitted to the ICU for liver failure, the doctor said she had at most seven days to live. My wife, Jessica Holland, grabbed my hand tightly. "Kevin, Tanya can still be saved!" The doctor handed me the organ donation consent form, but I didn't take it. Instead, I pulled out three documents and laid them in front of Jessica. "Sign these, and I'll donate." She glanced down and completely froze. The first was a divorce agreement, the second was a waiver of joint assets, and the third was a share transfer agreement. Jessica held a 12% stake in Eterspring Pharmaceutical. She earned that by building the business with me for eight years. I wanted her to transfer every single share to me. "Are you out of your mind?!" My mother rushed up and slapped me. She looked at me in disbelief. "Tanya's in there, fighting for her life, but you're using her to force your wife to divorce you without taking any assets?" I pushed the pen toward Jessica. "Once all the paperwork is done, I'll do the surgery immediately. All three documents must be signed." Jessica grabbed the divorce agreement and threw it in my face. I walked out without looking back.

On my wedding day, my fiancee, Alisson Poole, never shows up. Neither do her bridesmaids. I stand alone at the altar all day, enduring a roomful of pitying and contemptuous stares. After 999 rejected calls, I finally accept that she has fled the wedding. Back in our empty home, I see a post from her first love, Rhett Barker. "The art I want to explore with you goes beyond the soul. It includes the body, too." In the photo, Alisson wears the million-dollar custom wedding dress I bought her. She and her six bridesmaids kneel commando at his feet. Their eyes are dazed, burning with raw desire. They look at him like he's their deity, eager to be his most devoted followers. I stare at the picture for a long time, then leave a quick like and a comment. "May your noble art stay locked together forever." I screenshot the post and send it to the six bridesmaids' boyfriends. A masterpiece like this deserves a proper audience.

After my wife, Talia Rosenthal, becomes pregnant with her mentor's son, Lucas Hawthorne's, child, she asks me for a divorce. "We can get married after the baby's born. It's just for show, so don't read too much into it." To make matters worse, our daughter, Joyce Rosenthal, takes her side. "We need to repay those who help us. Besides, that's my mom's child too. Stop making things difficult for Mom, Dad." Instead of causing a scene like everyone expects, I nod quietly, swiftly finalize the divorce, and marry Sonya Silverstein, the woman who once saved my life. In my previous life, because I adamantly refuse to get a divorce, Talia and Joyce abandon me and leave for a distant land. I become a total laughingstock and hit rock bottom. Now that I've been given a second chance at life, I calmly go through with the divorce and vanish from their lives. … Six years later, at an exclusive luxury cruise party, Talia and Joyce push through the crowd on the dance floor, grab me by the wrist, and demand, "Didn't I tell you it was just for show? Where the hell have you been all these years?" I'm caught off guard. The very next second, my mischievous son, Jeremy Jensington, runs straight into my arms. "Daddy, who are you talking to? Mommy's looking for you!"

Gerald Dawson, my brother-in-law, is losing a lot of blood and urgently needs a transfusion. He has a rare blood type, Rh-negative, and Brian Johnson, my wife's first love, happens to be the closest person with the matching blood type. In my past life, I beg Brian to save Gerald. He gets lightheaded after donating his blood, misses a step, and tumbles down the stairs, breaking his neck and dying instantly. Gemma Dawson, my wife, pins his death entirely on me. She takes me bungee jumping on my birthday and directly pushes me off the platform. "Brian suffered so much when he died! You're going to pay it back a hundredfold, Simon!" I have been reborn, and Gemma chooses her first love over me. I respect her decision and wish her the best, but she eventually comes to regret her choice.

My wife and I had kept our marriage secret for three years. Then she became a fraud-busting influencer with ten million followers, and I was the first person she exposed. On her livestream, she sobbed that I was a freeloader who beat her, bled her dry, and even forced her to entertain men over drinks for money. The internet buried me in abuse. Delivery orders I never placed and funeral wreaths piled up outside my door. Her top donor announced he was going to break my legs to get justice for her. On camera, my wife was a fragile victim. Off camera, she was texting me threats. If I did not sign the thirty-million-dollar penthouse downtown over to her, she would burn my name to the ground. She thought that owning public opinion meant owning me. What she did not know was that her top donor, the man showering her with gifts every night, was one of my security guards. And when she brought New York's richest man onto her stream, intending to expose my supposed crimes, something else happened. The richest man in New York turned toward where I was standing and called me boss.