Nouvelles Male POV Romance & Romans

After returning from a business trip, I discovered that my wife had unexpectedly replaced the floor-to-ceiling window in her office with an entire wall of mirrors. When I questioned her about it, she looked at me with gentle eyes and smiled as she straightened my tie. "This way, when you come to keep me company during overtime, you won't have to fuss over checking your appearance. Don't overthink it. I had the nutritionist prepare some soup to help you recover. Drink it while it's hot." I found it strange. She was a career-driven woman who had always complained that my suits made me look too stiff and formal. Yet now, she had suddenly changed her tune. Still, I did not say anything. I simply smiled and walked over to the mirror, unscrewing the lid of the thermos. But the moment the hot steam rose into the air, two large oval-shaped marks slowly emerged on the previously spotless mirror. And in the corner, there was a faint smear of lipstick. I compared the height with a quick gesture and let out a cold laugh. 'A familiar height of five foot three and a C-cup. Office mirror reflections. How bold and thrilling.' I pulled out a tissue and calmly wiped the mirror clean before calling my assistant. "Get a renovation crew ready. Tonight, replace the mirror in Ms. Sutton's office with a two-way mirror. And notify the media. Three days from now, I'll be holding a live press conference downstairs."

After I got back with Lily Reid, I finally had a chance to catch a breather. She no longer returned home late, and she no longer hid her social media posts from me. Finally, I no longer felt like an insecure madman in our relationship. It was as if nothing had happened before. Things were very peaceful. It seemed as though love could ease everything. One day, Lily got into a car accident. My childhood friend was with her, and he was found completely naked. The police passed the mediation letter to me and said sternly, “The surveillance footage showed that your girlfriend was driving distractedly and hit the car in the opposite lane.” I signed the letter numbly. Then, I collected the items from the car accident. There were a pair of sexy leggings, birth control products, and a guarantee letter that had been torn into pieces. [I, Lily Reid, promise to cut all ties with David Anderson, or I will rot in hell.] When I rushed to the hospital, Lily was struggling to sit upright and shield David. “I was the one who went to him. If you’re angry, direct it to me!” I shook my head and laughed in relief. It turned out no matter how hard I held on, I could not save the romance. The air tickets that I bought for our anniversary trip became my exit.

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."

I've placed a no-limit bid just so I can buy Eloise Kane, the best underground boxer, from an underground boxing ring. Without even sparing me a proper glance, she's already naming her conditions with a sneer on her face. Apparently, she wants a deluxe apartment that's located in the heart of the city, a monthly allowance of ten million dollars, and most importantly, I mustn't interfere with her social circle. Everyone thinks I've gone nuts for buying myself a mistress just so I can cater to her whims and needs. But I don't mind at all. I just point at her left chest and tell her, "Just maintain a regular lifestyle. Don't let anything happen to your heart." I even go so far as to offend the heiress of the most prominent family in the elite society in order to defend Eloise. That is, until I heard Eloise gets stabbed for her jealous antics in a bar. By the time I arrive at the private room, I see her embracing a male escort while laughing at the top of her lungs. "Oh, I'm the one who hired someone to hit his sister with a car! It's best if she dies, though! That way, his assets will be mine! "Besides, he's just an idiot whose only purpose is to give me money! Who does he think he is, anyway?" Amid the eerie silence, I snatch up a wine bottle and smash it into Eloise's head. Then, I slam her head into the pile of blood-stained glass shards. After that, I dial the hospital's number. "Her heart is in top shape, and it's a perfect match. Tonight, you can wheel my sister into the emergency room. Time to prep for the heart transplant surgery."

At a certain class reunion, the former class president brought out the time capsules everyone had written years ago and read them aloud one by one. When it was Harper Langley’s turn, he opened her note and read, [Marry Jayden as soon as possible.] The room immediately broke into teasing laughter. “You two must already be married. Why didn’t you invite us to the wedding?” Before Harper could respond, the man sitting beside her spoke up with a smile. “She’s my boss now. She’s been busy building her company, so she hasn’t had time to get married. If any of you keep pressuring her to settle down and mess with my paycheck, you’re going to have a problem with me.” The speaker was Eugene Rowe. Back in school, he had been Harper’s obsessive pursuer, and she had deeply disliked him for it. He had since become her assistant. Harper did not deny anything. She simply took my hand and smiled, as gently as she always had. I pulled my hand away and smiled at everyone. “I’m getting married at the beginning of next month. You’re all invited.” Eugene’s face turned deathly pale. He stared at Harper in disbelief. She frowned and pulled out her phone. A moment later, my phone buzzed with a message. She texted: You didn’t have to lie to our classmates just to avoid embarrassment. My company is at a critical stage right now, so marriage can wait. I locked my phone without replying. I had not lied. I really was getting married at the beginning of next month. Harper was just not the bride.

When my wife, Emilia Sinclair, tortures me for the 98th time just to appease Wyatt Mercer, my love for her officially dies. That's when I decide to be with her best friend, Celia Ashford, who has been pursuing me for quite some time. After spending a wonderful night with Celia, she agrees to help me fake my death so that I can receive a brand new identity and marry her in an overseas country. So, I ingest the drug that can fake my death, only to wake up in the casket in advance. I can't move an inch no matter how hard I try. That's when I overhear Celia speaking with a subordinate outside the casket. "Ms. Ashford, you first told Emilia to torture Elliot, then you pretended to become his salvation. Now that you've completely earned his trust, why are you still arranging for his burial after faking his death?" "Only by doing this will the Mercers fully believe that Elliot is truly dead. That way, Wyatt can secure his position as the heir even more. No one will ever bring up the fact that he's a bastard child." The subordinate hesitates for a moment before asking, "Isn't leaving Elliot in the casket for one week a little too long? After all, we're only digging him up on the seventh day after you hold your wedding with Wyatt." "The drug can last for five days. I've already had someone place food, water, and an oxygen tank inside the casket. There's no way Elliot will die."

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 Valentine's Day, Lily Compton's youngest uncle, Cecil Compton, makes a grand show of putting a no-limit bid on Lily's first night at the auction. "Lily, we've been childhood friends since young! I must be the first man to pop your cherry!" I let out a scoff before taking off my engagement ring and throwing it at Lily's face. "Our engagement ceremony will be taking place soon. Your behavior reflects both our families' reputations." Cecil glares at me maliciously. "Lily, you and Jerry have yet to get engaged, and yet here he is, already setting up rules for you! Things will definitely get worse for you if you do end up marrying him!" Lily's gaze turns glacial as she lets out a cold huff. "This is just a marriage alliance. Is my virginity really that important, in any case? Besides, Cecil has already dumped his money on the bid. I can't just let him walk away with nothing, can I?" As I coldly watch the shameless pair walk into a washroom, I dial a number. "Since Lily treats our marriage like child's play, then I suppose there's absolutely no reason for the Comptons to continue existing in this world."

Seven years into my marriage, my wife’s assistant Jonah Johnson showed off a multi-million dollar racecar on his social media. The caption was, “I love my job, but I love my boss even more!” As soon as I liked his post, I was blocked from it. My wife immediately called to yell at me. “Jonah just signed a huge contract, so I gave him a little reward. Did you have to scold him on social media over something like that? Don’t push your limits just because I’m kind to you!” I heard Jonah blaming himself and my wife Nia comforting him on the other side of the phone. Before I could say anything else, she hung up on me and blocked my number. The next instant, Jonah posted a screenshot of a million-dollar transfer. I knew that was Nia’s way of consoling and compensating him. This time, however, I did not care anymore.

When my wife's childhood friend's depression flared up again, she handed me divorce papers. I signed them without a fuss and told her I was leaving the country. She looked surprised, then seemed to figure it out. "So you're finally behaving? Realized your little tantrums won't work, so now you're trying something new to get me back? Fine. Go abroad. Stay out of Asher's sight so you don't trigger him. When he gets better, I'll come get you." I slipped off my wedding ring and handed it to her. My gaze fell to the jagged scar on my wrist. "No need," I said. "Let's just let each other go. Stop holding on."

"We partied too hard last night and forgot to use protection—don't forget to buy morning-after pills for your wife." Looking at the woman's smooth bare back and the red mole on her neck in the photo, I felt absolutely nothing. Again. Five years of marriage, and this wasn't the first time. Kathy liked to test me this way. She called it her "little experiment." The first time, she "accidentally" left a receipt for condoms on the nightstand. I got angry and confronted her, but she just smiled with contempt. "Why are you so petty? My girlfriends and I bought that on purpose just to see how you'd react." The second time was on our wedding anniversary. A guy showed up at our door with a bouquet of roses, ready to propose to her right then and there. I got into a fistfight with him, fell down a flight of stairs, and broke three ribs. That's when she finally strolled out and told me the guy was an actor, and the whole thing was supposed to be a surprise for me. Five years. Her games kept getting more extreme. From flirty texts to explicit photos, she kept pushing my limits. And I'd gone from furious to completely numb. Since she loved testing me so much, fine—I'd give her exactly what she wanted.

My wife, Eunice Quill's adoptive younger brother, Shawn Quill, calls himself a human lie detector. During a game of truth and dare, I answer the truth question that I've given my virginity to Eunice. But Shawn "exposes" me in front of everyone by claiming that I've bedded at least three women before Eunice. He even gives me a nickname "Cope-More" out of jest. I question Eunice on the spot, only to see her mocking me back with a chuckle. "Shawn has been detecting lies since he was a kid. His observations are often very accurate. Don't tell me you're mad at him because of the way he humiliated you!" I decide to endure the farce for the sake of my young son, Callum Riverson. But when Callum gets into a car crash and needs 20 thousand dollars for his surgical bills, I stumble over to Eunice's company, hoping to borrow money from her. However, Shawn lets out a cold huff in return. "Finn must be lying! His lips are red, meaning he's very healthy. Also, the sweat dotting on his forehead must be droplets left behind by the mineral water that he's splashed onto himself in advance! "Hmph! It's way too easy for me to detect such a shoddy lie!" The impatient Eunice kicks me out of her company immediately. "Just tell me out right if you want to buy yourself a new watch! You won't receive a single cent if you lie to me!" When I recall the way Callum keeps struggling in pain and agony, I can only call Connie Bronson, Eunice's mom, with tears streaming down my face. "Give me 20 thousand dollars, and I'll leave Eunice voluntarily."

When Camille Prescott's young lover, Bryce Whitfield, threatens suicide yet again, she postpones our wedding. This is the ninth time in five months. Everyone thinks I'm a joke. This time, I refuse to back down. I stare at Camille intently and ask, "Are we getting married or not?" In my previous life, due to my meekness, I allowed the wedding to be delayed again and again. My mom was so furious that she ended up in the hospital. I went to speak with Bryce, hoping to resolve things peacefully. Instead, he accused me of trying to drive him to suicide. Then, he deliberately pushed me off a balcony. I survived, but I was left paralyzed and stripped of all dignity. Not only did Camille refuse to hold him accountable, but she even pinned the blame on me and said that I was asking for it. Consumed by despair, I pulled out my own oxygen tube. After getting a second chance at life, I finally understand one thing—I should never have wasted my entire life on a piece of trash like her.

Late one night, my wife called me, her voice carrying a hint of apology. "Drew, I'm sorry. I cheated." Everyone in our lives knew she loved me more than anything. So how could she possibly cheat? After realizing it was April Fool's Day, I replied with a smile, "I cheated too." She didn't sound surprised at all. Instead, she seemed relieved. "That's good. At least I don't feel as guilty now. "The divorce papers are in the second drawer of the study. Just sign them." I was about to tell her she was putting on a pretty convincing act when the call suddenly ended. Smiling, I opened the drawer and froze. The divorce agreement was real, with her unmistakable signature at the bottom of the final page. My eyes stung as I reached for my phone, about to ask whether this was really some kind of joke, when a message arrived from one of my wife's graduate students. [Mr. Jensen, so it turns out you cheated too. In that case, just step aside already. Then Ms. Jones and I can finally celebrate our first anniversary out in the open!]

Vivian Grant lost her memory and forgot everything about me. Her memory stopped in the year when she loved her ex-husband most. No matter how the people around her tried to explain it, she still believed I was the third party who had come between them. The doctors said her amnesia might be treatable, so I held on to that hope and refused to let go. For three years, we got divorced and remarried over and over again. We became the biggest joke in the city's elite circles. Some people even started betting on us. They bet on when I would finally give up, and when Vivian would finally remember. Then news of our eighth divorce hit the trending charts again. Reporters rushed into the law firm with cameras on their shoulders. They shoved microphones in my face, their questions full of provocation. "Mr. Sterling, as a divorce attorney, how does it feel to have been divorced eight times yourself?" The firm's sign was smashed. The commendation banners clients had given me were trampled underfoot. Before I could respond, my supervisor fired me for damaging the profession's reputation. "Julian Sterling, let me give you some advice. Have some self-respect. Stop clinging to Ms. Grant." I clenched my trembling hands and suddenly felt exhausted. They were right. This time, I really should give up.

The first time I found out that Jessica Blake was cheating on me was in our own bedroom. I was young and hot-headed, and I wanted a divorce on the spot. She cried and said she'd gotten drunk and mistaken the guy for me. She fell to her knees, begging me to forgive her. "If you divorce me, I'll jump from this window right now." That one line softened my heart for the next five years. During those years, she was gentle and caring, as if that night had never happened. Everyone could see it—Jessica loved me so much she was willing to die for me. But then came her mother's 60th birthday party. Out of nowhere, my mother-in-law, Linda, asked her, "Jess, where's my grandson? Why didn't he come?" I was confused. I thought she was just having a moment, so I smiled and said, "Mom, you forgot—Jess's due date is still two months away." Linda glanced at me calmly and murmured, "Oh… so you still don't know." My heart sank. I looked over at Jessica instinctively. She quietly put down her fork, as if she were talking about something as ordinary as the weather. "Actually, I have a son. He's five years old."

I woke up in the middle of the night to find my wife crying and begging me to let her see that young man one last time. "I’ll come right back after seeing him one last time. Please, I’m begging you." In our seven years of marriage, this was only the second time she’d spoken to me in such a pleading, ingratiating tone. The last time was when I caught the kid running out of her office, his clothes in disarray. Afraid I’d make a scene, she grabbed my hand and pleaded, "Honey, I promise I’ll cut him off. Please don’t divorce me. I’ll die without you." So, I gave her another chance. Just as she promised, she devoted herself to our family, becoming the perfect wife everyone admired. Until today. I turned on the bedside lamp, looked into her eyes, and told her seriously, "Go. Don’t leave yourself with any regrets." I had no regrets left. I hoped the same for you.

Just before the end of my shift, the last patient I see is my wife, Tracy Montgomery. Her prenatal test report clearly states that she is three weeks pregnant. She is the mother, and the father is her lover of five years, Max Lockwood. Calmly, I slide the report across the desk and say softly, "Congratulations. You finally got what you wanted." Tracy pauses for a moment before frowning hard. "That's it? Are you just congratulating me? Don't you have anything else to say?" I stare at the piece of paper and at the child who isn't mine. I initially think I would react the way I always do, which entails throwing away my pride and causing a huge scene in front of her. But in the end, I don't even have the strength for that anymore. Her fingertips brush gently across her stomach as she says, "I've had my fun over the years. Once the baby is born, I'll settle down." Hearing those words, I lift my head and meet her eyes. I say evenly, "Tracy, our contract has expired."

For ten years, I have stayed by Maren Hale's side without her formally acknowledging me as her boyfriend. Thus, I become the oldest kept man in Harborfield. After I turn 30, I have asked her to marry me more than 30 times. Each time, she smiles and kisses me. "Reid, I'll marry you when I'm ready," she says. When I'm 31, a car accident nearly kills me. Still shaken, I propose to Maren. She tells me to wait a little longer. By the time I'm 33, a doctor warns me that my kidney function is declining. I wave the diagnosis report in front of her and press for marriage. Yet, she still tells me to wait. While I wait for her, the sun rises and sets over Mount Carlisle more than 3,600 times. Finally, I think she is ready. Holding back tears, I promise my seriously ill father that he will live to see me get married. What I don't know is that Maren is not opposed to marriage. It's just that the ten years she spends fooling around with me are nothing more than an act of rebellion against her mother, who has driven away her former fiancé. Before the banquet, I see the ring I give Maren inside her handbag. I think she is finally going to accept my proposal. Nervous and hopeful, I wait the entire evening. But just moments ago, during a game of dare, she casually tosses the ring to a male model she has just met. "The kid is turning 20. A pink diamond suits him perfectly. Next time, I'll have an emerald one made for us." The entire room bursts into laughter. I laugh along with them. "Don't bother," I said. "Someone else already has a rock waiting for me, and I said yes."

After Halle Anderson cheated on me and came back to me, I gave her three chances to cut ties with her lover. She grabbed the opportunity and spent those times with him. They had dinners together, did crafts, and she even spent whole nights with him. After that, she threw everything that was related to her lover away and held my hand again. “Believe me, I’ll never betray you again.” One day, I got into a car accident with an energetic young man. He angrily gave someone a call, and I heard my wife’s best friend’s voice coming through. “Halle, I’m telling you to not go. You’ve used up all three chances. Grant will definitely divorce you if you do so.” Immediately after, I heard Halle say fearlessly, “Grant’s an orphan. He’s been deprived of love his whole life, so he’s even more terrified of divorce than I am. “Just keep this a secret. I know where to draw the line. This is going to be the last time.” I lay in a pool of my blood and felt cold. It turned out that this confident young man standing before me was the lover Halle was protecting. Twenty minutes later, Halle, who had promised to come back to me for good, arrived at the hospital in a rush.