Feel-Good Story Romance Short Stories & Marriage Novels

My best friend, Ricky Watson, yanked the oxygen tube from my nose as he grinned down at me maliciously. "I guess there's no point pretending anymore. Remember those leaked files that cost you the promotion? I'm the one who planted them in that storage box under your bed." Then, he slipped an arm around my wife, Andrea Gates, looking even more pleased with himself. "And that son you've spent the last 10 years raising?" His grin widened. "He's mine." Andrea slowly turned the gold bracelet around her wrist and looked at me with open contempt. "I would've taken the kid and left you for Ricky years ago if you hadn't been so subservient to my needs and given me all your paycheck every month." Her gaze swept over me. "A loser like you isn't even fit to shine his shoes." I stared at the two of them as rage burned through me. Alas, I couldn't even force out a curse due to the lack of oxygen. Years earlier, I had been in line for a promotion to Chief Engineer. However, that was also when someone accused me of leaking confidential company documents. That single accusation destroyed my life. It went on my record, cost me my promotion, and ended my engineering career almost overnight. Still, I did whatever it took to support my wife and the son I believed was mine for the next 10 years. During the day, I would haul rebar and equipment across construction sites. When night fell, I would stay up taking freelance drafting and design jobs just to earn a little more to support my little family. I worked myself to the bone. I wasn't even 40 when my heart finally gave out. Meanwhile, Ricky stepped straight into the position that should have been mine. He used the project proposal I had created to climb up the corporate ladder year after year until he became one of the most respected engineering directors in the industry. I thought that was how my life would end, miserable and wrathful. However, that was when I opened my eyes again. I was back on the night before my Chief Engineer promotion interview.

After Princess Winona Green abandons me at the border's military camp for five years, she finally remembers my existence and decides to bring me home. When a dozen or so carriages that are laden with wedding gifts arrive at the military camp, Winona's expression is filled with unbridled smugness. "I did tell you that once I gave birth to Shane's child, I'd marry you, Gideon. See? I didn't lie to you at all. Today, I've personally come to the border just to pick you up." Then, Winona approaches me haughtily. "Shane might be a musician, but I've already sired the oldest child with him. It's only reasonable for him to be made an equal consort, just like you, the son of an official." I merely frown without saying anything. All I do is look at Winona. She lets out a sigh before walking toward me again. "I know that you've been hopelessly waiting for me for the past five years, Gideon. That's why I traveled all the way to this barren wasteland just to prove my sincerity to you. In half a month, we shall get married." The sight of Winona immersed in her own fantasy of fake devotion makes me chuckle coldly. "Seize them!" How dare Winona make me, the general of the border, fight with a mere musician over her affections! Does she really think that my blade is just a decoration?

After three years in a long-distance relationship, I went straight to the courthouse as soon as my flight landed, ready to marry Willow Payne. Instead, she showed up holding a newborn baby. Without a trace of guilt, she placed the baby in my arms. "This is Rachel, my daughter with Preston. You can raise her from now on." My mind went blank. Standing beside her, my childhood friend, Preston Webb, burst out laughing. "Willow and I got drunk one night, and one thing led to another. We ended up sleeping together. Your time working out of town is finally over, and now you get to come home and be a dad. Hell of a surprise, right?" I stared at them. "Do you seriously think this is funny?" Preston only grinned wider. "Willow and I made a bet about whether you'd cry when you found out she had my baby. I said you wouldn't. So I won. Willow promised to travel the world with me until I get bored and feel like coming back." Willow gave him an amused look, then turned to me like she was doing me a favor. "My daughter is your daughter, too. Take good care of her. When I get back, I'll marry you." She took Preston's hand and walked away with him. I looked down at the baby in my arms. Her skin and the whites of her eyes were so yellow that even I knew something was wrong. I called after them, but neither one looked back. Three years later, Willow showed up at my workplace. "Michael, I'm here to keep my promise. Let's get married. "But Preston and I have a daughter together. We thought it would be better for her if her parents were legally married, so Preston and I got married. "I can't legally marry you anymore, but I can still give you the wedding." She pulled out a wedding band and reached for my hand, trying to slip it onto my finger. I knocked her hand away and stepped back. "I already have a wedding ring. My wife gave it to me."

To help my "destitute" husband pay off his debts, I scavenged for scraps for five years. My son and I survived on expired canned food. That changed on my son's birthday. I saw him in a bespoke suit, spending millions to celebrate the birthday of the woman he truly loved. That was the moment I realized he was actually the most powerful billionaire on Wall Street. To please the love of his life, he let our child be injected with unknown drugs, leaving him on the brink of death. He even forced me to drain my own blood to save her son. Later, I became someone he could no longer reach. I linked arms with a man far more powerful than him and walked away. That once arrogant man ended up kneeling in the Arctic snow, clutching a photo I had burned, weeping like a stray dog.

Damien and his ex-wife got divorced five years ago, and then he married me. When I married him, he had a 13-year-old adopted daughter named Lily. After our marriage, Damien treated me exceptionally well and I always treated Lily like my own daughter, even when she occasionally showed hostility towards me, I didn't mind. That's normal for a teenage girl. Until my father was accidentally hit by a car and left in a vegetative state, I accidentally overheard a conversation between Damien and his assistant. "Boss, I don't get it. Why block the craniotomy?" the assistant asked, sounding confused. "The doctors say there’s a high chance he could recover. Why are you insisting on conservative treatment?" "He can't wake up," Damien’s voice was suppressed with pain. "He saw Lily's face." I clamped my hand over my mouth, my fingernails digging deep into my flesh. Lily is the adopted daughter of Damien and his late ex-wife, Sarah. Sarah died saving Damien, so he has always treated Lily with a mix of guilt and utter indulgence. Damien continued, his tone incredibly conflicted. " But Lily didn't do it on purpose! She is only thirteen... If she gets a criminal record, her life is over. Sarah’s only dying wish was for me to take care of Lily and see her grow up safe and sound. I can't give up on her." The assistant fell silent for a few seconds. "And what about your wife?" "I’ll make it up to her," Damien’s voice softened. "I’ll provide her with the most prosperous life, and secure the largest private ward along with the best caregivers for her father who’s suffered from the car accident. I don’t care how much it costs." My heart sank completely. Just because you feel guilty towards Sarah and Lily, you're going to sacrifice my father? With trembling hands, I saved the recording and had my lawyer prepare the divorce papers. But when I completely disappeared, the once powerful CEO went mad.

When Ethan Lane came back from his business trip, he pulled two dolls out of his suitcase. One was pink, the other blue. His daughter, Nina Lane's eyes lit up for a second when she saw the pink one. But instead of reaching for it, she glanced over at Crystal Shaw, Vivian Shaw's daughter. That five-year-old girl had already stretched out her hand for the pink doll. So Nina pulled her hand back and said quietly, "I'll take the blue one." I froze. Nina's loved pink ever since she was little. Her backpack is pink, her water bottle is pink, even her hair clips are always pink. But the moment Crystal was in the picture, she stepped aside. Later, when Ethan drove Vivian and Crystal home, I asked Nina why she chose blue. She looked up at me timidly and said, "If I give up what I like, just like Mommy does, will Daddy come home more?" My throat tightened. I've given in so many times over the years. But looking at my daughter right now, I suddenly realized—I don't want to hold back anymore.

After my drill instructor husband, Vincent Bennett, returns home from a business trip and gives me an intense "punishment session," I collapse onto the bed and start scrolling through my phone. That is when I come across a trending local post. "My boyfriend is cheating on me, and I am about to catch him in the act! Anyone in this city wants to come with me and catch him with his mistress?" The comments below are full of people egging her on. "Where? Hurry and drop the address! I am bringing my toilet plunger to beat that scumbag!" "Kitchen knife ready. Miss, I am with you. We'll chop up that homewrecker first!" I am instantly excited. If I were not so exhausted, I would want to join the drama too. Just as I am thinking that, the poster uploads the address. I tap it open. In the next moment, I freeze. Unit 1203 of Building C, Jarmond Heights. Isn't that my address?

On our sixth anniversary, I waited ten hours for my boyfriend in the middle of a Colorado blizzard. I waited until the coffee stand closed, the last shuttle was canceled, and my toes went numb. I called Mason thirty-one times. He never picked up. At 9:53 p.m., the video call finally connected. But the person on the screen wasn't Mason. It was my best friend, Tessa. She was sitting in his passenger seat, smiling. "I came up a couple of days early. Figured I'd borrow your tour guide." I asked Mason why he hadn't come. He said impatiently, "It's Tessa's first time here. I can't just leave her alone." It wasn't that he couldn't come. He had simply chosen to leave me behind. Ten minutes later, I called about the London project I'd turned down two weeks earlier. "Is the offer still open? I'm in." The snow still hadn't stopped, but I'd already decided to leave.

Colonel Rachel Melton promises me she will only stay by her first love's side during his depressive episodes 99 times. Yet, the moment I mark down the 99th time, I catch them locked in a tight embrace. After that, I no longer stand in her way when she goes to him. I only ask her for a good luck charm to serve as our child's first birthday gift. At the mention of our child, Rachel's expression softens. "When I get back, I'll make sure to give Diana a wonderful first birthday." "Okay," I murmur, completely omitting the fact that I have submitted our divorce papers ten days ago, and that our daughter died on the very day she chose to be with Todd Weber. Now, we are already divorced.

When Tristan Pierce falls in love with the 99th woman he's met online, I heave a mental sigh of relief. He gazes at me as he passes a divorce agreement to me. "Serena, I'm sorry for falling for someone else. She makes me feel something that you've never made me feel before." I just stare at him with teary eyes as I utter the same old words any phony will say. "I'm the one who failed to take care of you. I'll be fine as long as you're happy." Having noticed how pitiful I look, Tristan transfers 50 million dollars into my account at once. When I notice the automated text sent from my bank regarding the transaction that I've just received, I do my best to suppress my smile. After all, this is my 99th fake identity. The three-year contract that I've signed with Tristan's older brother, Graham Pierce, is coming to an end. Finally, my loveless relationship with Tristan shall come to an end.

Mallory Spencer despises disorder and unnecessary trouble above all else. To eradicate such issues from her life, she sticks to a rigidly predetermined schedule. Gifts are purchased in bulk and sent out on the day of the recipient's birthday. Our date spots are always the same. If I want to pick a new restaurant, I have to submit a written request a month in advance. Even our intimate moments are governed by an alarm. "Living a stress-free life matters more than anything else. Let's not cause any trouble for the other," she says. We've been together for seven years now. All along, I've assumed she maintains the same attitude with everyone else. Then one day, we attend a gathering together. When the waiter serves us a plate of pomegranates, she takes one and carefully extracts the pomegranate seeds into a bowl, separating out the pith. Sitting beside her, I reach out for the bowl. She pauses, glances at me, and proceeds to set the bowl down in front of Hank Coleman, the man who used to be my biggest bully. During our days in high school, he used to tear up my books, pour glue on my chair, and lock me in the restroom after school. Even Mallory had once chewed him out for his behavior, saying he'd pay for it. But now, as she sits beside me, she hands him the bowl of pomegranate seeds she has prepared and says, "Dig in." I pull my hand back, feeling uninclined to stick around any longer. I also lose all desire to hold onto her.

On the night of our wedding, my gold-medal lawyer wife, Aurora Sterling, abandoned me and tangled herself with her assistant, Kieran Holt. Kieran barged into our bridal suite carrying his vegetative-state fiancee, Elara Holt, and demanded we swap spouses. I refused without hesitation. Right there on the spot, he drugged me and forcibly locked me in a room with Elara. Meanwhile, he held Aurora in our newlywed bed and used eighteen condoms that night. The next morning, I stormed into the office to confront him. Instead, I saw Aurora kneeling between his legs. When she noticed me, Kieran shuddered and quickly pulled away before standing up. "Rowan, Aurora didn’t get enough last night, so I brought her out for some fun again. Don’t worry. This will be the last time. I won’t disturb you two anymore." He turned to leave. However, Aurora stopped him reluctantly. "Kieran, you're not the one who should leave." Then she turned to me, her face dark with anger. "Elara became a vegetable because she saved my life. I have an obligation to fulfill a wife’s duties for her. "From now on, I’ll accompany Kieran on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays. The rest of the days I’ll stay with you. I’m even giving you an extra day, so you should be satisfied." As I watched the absurd scene unfold before me, rage finally exploded inside my chest. Just as I was about to erupt, my phone suddenly chimed. Ding. "Hey, handsome, your skills are pretty good. Interested in developing a long-term arrangement?"

I'm the only heir to the wealthiest conglomerate in the world. My father, Tyrone Ferguson, is extremely powerful and has forces from both the underworld and the legal world eating out of his palm. But I witness my girlfriend, Vivian Vega, giving a "Voluntary Transfer of Body Ownership" contract to my arch nemesis, Richard Larkin, at our engagement ceremony. "Don't be mad at us, Isaac." Vivian shows me the contract, her tone still light and casual. "I love you, so I'll reserve my most treasured virginity for you. I will always be your wife, but I want to give the ownership of my body to Richard." "The hell are you on about?" With a deep frown on my face, I attempt to pull Vivian away from Richard, only to get pushed away by the latter. Vivian quickly moves to stand in front of Richard, her brows tangled into a frown. "Stop being so narrow-minded, Isaac! I'm free to give anyone my body!" She then stands on her tiptoes to kiss Richard right in front of me. At that moment, I become the biggest joke in elite society. Before the mass media begins spreading the news, I send out a text message calmly. "There's no need to help cover up for the Vega family's shady businesses anymore."

For six years of marriage, Cyran Valehart and I lived with measured respect, as if we were partners holding the same scale in perfect balance. For the sake of my equestrian career, I refused to have children. He shouldered the gossip, endured the judgment, and stood beside me without hesitation. But when I rode into what should have been my final international competition, he went back home with his first love—her hand resting protectively over her swollen belly. "All these years, you chose the horses over me," he spat. "That damned competition meant more to you than our family ever did." His voice shook with righteous anger, but his next words cut far deeper. "Six years ago, I abandoned Celia once. Now she carries my child. I won't betray her again." In that instant, my marriage became nothing but a title. I was reduced to a wife in name only, a figurehead in his home, a shadow he no longer cared to see. During the very competition meant to crown my life's work, Cyran laced a sharp needle beneath my saddle, each stride of my horse a fresh stab of pain meant to break us both. I lost the match. My horse collapsed with a shattered leg. And in that fall, my dream and my marriage were crushed together—ruined by the very man who once swore to protect them. Later, he paid with everything he had, desperate to make amends. But no matter what he sacrificed, Cyran Valehart was already behind me, nothing more than a ghost I would never turn to face again.

The day Arthur Reed and I signed our divorce papers, his stepsister, Chloe Bennett, watched me with red-rimmed eyes. "Lilith, I'm sorry. Once I get better, I'll step aside and give Arthur back to you. You have to believe me." I could recite that apology in my sleep. Whenever Chloe cried, Arthur gave in. To keep his depressed stepsister happy, he would put another set of divorce papers in front of me. We had married four times and divorced four times. Everyone praised Arthur as a caring brother, while I was the one who had to suffer for it. Every time the paperwork was done, Arthur would kiss my cheek and say, "It's just a piece of paper. It's temporary. Once Chloe is stable, we'll remarry. You know you're the only one I've ever loved." I believed him. I kept waiting for him to come back to me. Then last month, I was rushed to the hospital after a car accident. The doctors needed my emergency contact before they could operate. I called Arthur. He sounded annoyed. "Chloe's in a terrible state right now. She needs me. You're so strong. Can't you look after yourself?" So today, when he put the divorce papers in front of me for the fifth time to calm Chloe down, I signed without hesitating. Arthur assumed I would do what I had done the other four times and go home to wait for him to marry me again. He was wrong. This time, I meant it. He would lose both me and his fortune!

The Dempsey family has two adopted sons. I'm one of them, and the other is Julius Haysworth. On the day Elena Dempsey and Julius get engaged, a car accident leaves her crippled. Julius tearfully breaks off the engagement, while I marry Elena to repay the Dempseys for taking me in. For the next ten years, I wait on her hand and foot, support her rehabilitation, and help her walk again. I even give up my chance to attend college for her. Yet, on the very day Elena regains her mobility and takes over the family business, she announces that she wants to bring Julius home. A wealthy woman has scammed him out of every penny, and Elena now wants to divorce me for him. I confront her in fury, destroy everything in our home, and even beg her to reconsider, but Elena refuses to change her mind. Even my adoptive parents believe that a man without a college education is no longer good enough for the now-successful Elena. I'm so furious that I spit out a mouthful of blood and jump from the top floor of the Dempsey residence. When I open my eyes again, I'm back on the day Elena will choose between Julius and me as her future husband.

On our tenth anniversary, Evan Rodger and I decided to tattoo each other's names on our chests. After the tattoo session, I woke up with my head still feeling groggy. To my dismay, I found the words "Old Crone" tattooed in a bold font across my chest. Upon noticing the way my expression dropped, Isabel Hawthorn, who was the tattooist, snickered, "You’ve been dating Evan for a decade, but he still hasn’t registered your marriage together. What does that make you if not an old crone?" I smashed the mirror on the spot, which spewed broken shards in her direction. Evan practically threw himself in her direction and pulled her into his arms to protect her. He snapped at me with a ferocious scowl, "She’s just a young, naive girl who was trying to make a joke. Why are you picking on her?" I stared intently at the parted collar of his shirt. What was supposed to be my name tattooed on his chest had been replaced with "Isabel Hawthorn, My Only Love". Isabel wrapped her arms around Evan. She expertly played the victim and appealed dearly to him, "Evan said he liked my name last time, so I was only trying to make a joke. You wouldn’t be upset at me, would you, Claire?"

Our daughter was diagnosed with a genetic illness. To save her, my husband founded a charity in her name. To raise the funds, he pushed himself to the brink—working three hundred days straight, surviving on three hours of sleep a night. His relentless drive moved countless people. The media hailed him as "Father of the Year." Everyone congratulated me on having such a devoted partner. Then came the day he rallied the entire nation, securing pledges for millions in donations to fund our daughter's cure. At the gala, with over ten million dollars moments from being transferred, I suddenly hit the pause button. "And now, we'll take a brief intermission for a signing," I announced. The room erupted. They shouted at me, called me selfish, a monster. My husband stared at me, utterly stunned. "Have you lost your mind? Children around the world are waiting on this money to survive! What in God's name are you talking about?" I lifted my gaze to meet his. "A divorce agreement."

Whitney Sands was in a coma for three years because of an accident, and when she woke up from the coma, everyone said she had changed. She used to cling to Henry Jordan wherever he was, but now, she would only see him once every few days. When Henry ended up in the hospital because he was sick, all Whitney did was instruct the domestic help to make some food to be delivered to him. Whitney did not question him whenever he came home late, and when she heard rumors of him having another woman, she acted indifferent about it as well. This continued until one night, Whitney was watching male models dancing at a bar, and her best friend, Summer Thompson, showed her a photo of a grand hall. Henry was holding a woman's hand in the photo and carrying a baby while standing at the doors to greet guests. The electronic banner at the top of his head read, 'Congratulations on your newborn baby boy! Wishing your family a lifetime of happiness.' Summer asked curiously, "I didn't believe it when they said you didn't care about Henry anymore. Do you really feel nothing seeing him having a baby with another woman?" Whitney raised an eyebrow and pushed several bills down a male model's pants before standing up from the couch. "Who says I don't care about Henry anymore? He just had a baby, and as his wife, I should pay them a visit."

On the fifth year of their marriage, finding the vitamin C her husband bought tasted too bitter, Jeanne Dotson went to the hospital with the bottle. The doctor took one look and frowned. "This isn't vitamin C." "I-I'm sorry, Doctor?" "I could say it a dozen times and it'd still be the same," the doctor replied, pointing at the bottle. "This is Mifepristone. Taking too much of it doesn't just cause infertility—it can do serious harm to your body." Jeanne felt a lump stuck in her throat, and her fingers turned pale from clenching the bottle. "That's impossible. My husband got this for me. His name is Darren Walsh—he's a doctor here too." The doctor looked up at her, his expression turning strange, tinged with something she couldn't quite read. After a pause, he gave a small smile. "Miss, you might want to visit the psych ward instead. We all know Dr. Walsh's wife—she gave birth just two months ago. Don't let your imagination run wild, all right? There's no point."