Marriage Romance Short Stories & Novels

The day before my period, I found a note on my fiancé's phone. [Her period starts tomorrow. I already packed pads and painkillers in her bag.] I smiled. It was such a small thing, but it felt thoughtful. The next day, a dull ache twisted in my lower stomach. Pale and uncomfortable, I dug through my crossbody bag. Nothing. Dark red blood stained my pants. Students pointed behind me and whispered with awkward laughs. I figured he'd just forgotten at the last minute. Then the new intern teacher posted on social media. [Just started working, and my supervising teacher is literally the sweetest! He even got me pads and painkillers. This period has been pain-free!] The photo showed a pack of pads, an ibuprofen tablet, and a mug of ginger tea. The painkillers were mine—the ones I'd kept stocked at home for years because of my cramps. The pads were the only brand my skin could tolerate. I turned off my phone and stared at the engagement ring on my finger for a long time. Then I stood up and headed to the principal's office to apply for the overseas teacher exchange program. Seven years. He still couldn't remember my cycle. And now, he never would have to.

I'm famous in the rich wives' society for having an ostrich-like personality—cowardly and often loves escaping from reality. In my three-year marriage, I've personally conducted cosmetic surgeries on 99 substitutes of Callum Holden's first love, Alice Teller. Veronica Dane, the 99th substitute, stares at her reflection in the mirror in delight. There's a trace of mockery in her eyes at the same time. "Mrs. Holden, I heard that you've been alone throughout your marriage. What a shame… To think that the nation's best plastic surgeon can't work on altering her own face. "In order to thank you for your efforts, I'll give you a glimpse of Callum's bedroom performance when the time comes. How about that?" I tune out Veronica's mocking words. After all, I've gone through similar situations 98 times in the past, and I have fought back before. But all Callum said to me was, "You owe me this much, Talia. You can never finish atoning for your sins, even if it takes you your entire life!" The thing is, he has forgotten that I've given him 99 substitutes, just as I had promised. Now, I will never go looking for the love that is never mine, to begin with.

To avoid being the topic of gossip, I could only use disposable items every time I went to my girlfriend, Erica Livingston's, house. She made me use disposable slippers in her house, and disposable utensils when we had our meals. Even when I stayed the night, she prepared disposable sheets for me. "If someone saw any of your things at my house, I wouldn't know how to explain it," she would tell me every time. "I'll get you everything you deserve once we go public." I waited three years for that to happen, and I had to enter her house every time as if I was a guest. This continued until one day, when she held a birthday party for her assistant, Ryan Strobe, at her house. When I opened the door, I saw Ryan taking out their matching house slippers from the shoe cabinet in her house. Erica's best friends arrived next and wore all of the other disposable house slippers available at her house. I was left standing by myself at the door. "You can come in barefoot. It's not cold in the summer," Erica said to me without looking up. It felt like she was calling out to a stranger to enter her house. I stared at the table, full of food, from afar, with utensils printed with Ryan's favorite anime character. In the far corner was a pair of cheap, disposable utensils that belonged to me, and I suddenly felt like everything I had with her was disposable as well. It was time that this love that was buried deep in secret should also be disposable to me, and I should throw it away now that I was done with it.

My wife, Eira Primrose, has forgotten to disconnect the car's Bluetooth from her phone when she gets out to answer a call. A man's explicit, suggestive words echo through the vehicle. "Didn't you say you were coming over tonight? I bought some new toys. Are you sure you don't want to come over and try them with me?" I pause for a moment before reaching out and turning it off. The instant silence falls over the car, Eira teases the man on the phone without the slightest change in her expression. Yet, her gaze lingers on my face for a brief moment through the window. After hopping back into the car, she casually reaches over and straightens my collar. "I was actually planning to stay with you tonight. After all, you were just discharged from the hospital. Yet, you heard him too. He has many tricks up his sleeve, and he's super clingy, so do me a favor and drive yourself home, okay?" I nod. "Do you need me to drop you at his place?" Eira freezes for a moment. "Look at you, making progress. You're not causing a scene and giving me headaches like you did the previous eight times. However, you're my husband. Why would I make you do a driver's job?" Then, she leans in and pecks my cheek. The love bites just beneath her collarbone are faintly visible. "Forget it, babe. We're not heading in the same direction." I plaster a smile on my face. That's right. In the 30 seconds she spends answering that phone call, I accept a job offer overseas. For the rest of our lives, we won't be heading in the same direction.

'Ms. Johnson, your marriage certificate is fake. 'The system shows that the name of Mr. William Clark's spouse is Sophia Lopez, and they have a six-year-old son.' I was holding my daughter, Emmy, at the time. My ears were rang as I recalled the words that escaped the lips of the staff member at the vital records office while passing the piece of marriage certificate, which now had a trashy feel to it, back to me. Suddenly, my phone vibrated, snapping me out of my thoughts. I checked and saw that it was a message from Sophia. 'Heather Johnson, my beloved husband, William, is attending my son's parent-teacher meeting and doesn't have time to help you with your illegitimate daughter's birth certificate application.' I clutched my phone and stared at the text message. Tears blurred my vision, for it made my eyes sting when I saw Sophia calling Emmy illegitimate. I kissed Emmy's forehead and carried her out of the hospital. … When I was on my way home, I called William's archnemesis, the very man he despised with every fiber of his being. "I'm currently single. If your offer still stands, I'll marry you in five days."

On our son's fifth birthday, the three of us went to watch a meteor shower. In the middle of it, my husband answered a phone call and left in a hurry. Late that night, our son had an asthma attack. The only medicine he needed was in my husband's car. I clutched my son and ran through the empty wilderness, stumbling in the dark as I called my husband over and over again. All I got back was an icy message: [Something urgent. Do not disturb.] The next day, he finally called. However, the voice on the other end was not his. "Last night, my dog suddenly fell ill and died. Elias was worried I wouldn't take it well, so he stayed with me all night. He has just fallen asleep. If you have anything to say, you can tell me." I stroked my son's pale, bluish face. "Tell him," I said, "we're getting a divorce."

My husband kept making me see a psychiatrist. He said I had delusional disorder and kept imagining I was a corporate heiress. He once grabbed me by the throat and screamed that my parents had died in a car accident years ago. To cure my "illness" and stop him from worrying about me, I took my medication on time and tried to forget those "delusions". One day, I was handing out flyers on the street when a Rolls-Royce stopped in front of me. The driver respectfully opened the door. My father, who had only ever appeared in my "delusions", stepped out, pain written across his face. "The one million dollars I transfer to your account every month is supposed to let you see what life is like. Why are you out here putting yourself through this?" One million dollars? I could hear my ears ring. What exactly had my husband been hiding from me when he said he had spent all our savings treating my illness?

I'd been "married" to Zachary for two years—until I tried applying for a loan and the bank's system flagged someone else as his legal wife. Our wedding? Just a private show. The real marriage license had his name next to hers. So yeah. I wasn't the wife. I was the other woman. Crushed, I went home—only to hear Zachary talking to his friend, Ethan, by the door. "Man, watching you stress is exhausting," Ethan said. "You clearly love Sierra. So why marry Cathryn?" Zachary looked torn. "At first, she was just a stand-in. But when she left, I couldn't stop thinking about her. So I brought her back—as my assistant." He paused, then muttered, "I can't live without Sierra. But I can't let go of Cathryn either. So I gave Sierra my love in public and kept Cathryn hidden with the title. That's fair, right?" I stood frozen, heart splitting open. He loved us both. Me—his childhood sweetheart. Her—the hidden wife. I thought I was the one. Turns out, I was just the game. He didn't break my heart. He shattered my whole world. But I didn't cry. I didn't scream. I walked away. And started planning two things.

I refused to donate one of my kidneys to my younger sister, Ella. As a result, my parents forced me to marry a wealthy man in Pinetown. People said Johnson kept his distance from everyone else. His first love had never truly left his heart. Everyone waited to watch my miserable ending. Unexpectedly, Johnson actually deeply doted on me. During the three years of our marriage, regardless of the place, he never seemed able to keep his hands off me. Even when I went to the washroom, he followed me and pressed me against the sink. We never took any contraceptive measures. Yet, I never got pregnant. One day, when I thought I was finally expecting, we went to the hospital for a checkup. There, I accidentally overheard his conversation with a doctor. “Johnson, three years ago, you asked me to secretly transplant Amber’s kidney to Ella. Today, you want me to lie to her that she’s naturally sterile. How could you be so cruel to a woman who loves you?” “There’s no other way. Ella’s health is weak. If she can’t bear a child, she’ll suffer in her husband’s family. Only Amber’s kidney is a match for her.” The voice I knew so well sounded so cold that it felt unfamiliar. The love and salvation I had basked in so comfortably turned out to be nothing but a lie. If that was the truth, all that was left for me to do was to leave him.

The year my girlfriend, Maisie Summers, and I were supposed to get married, I broke up with her. Later, she made it big and used every means necessary to force me to marry her anyway. Everyone says we're destined to be together from the start. Yet no one knows that after we got married, she's been bringing different men home every so often. I never react and pretend as if I don't see anything. While she sleeps around night after night, I silently count how many days I have left to live.

I was married to one of the world’s richest men—Zayne Ford— yet no one knew I existed. To the world, he was a charming billionaire. To me, he was the man who once promised love… then buried me in silence. For five years, I lived as his secret wife, convincing myself that love was enough. That it didn’t matter if no one knew my name, as long as he still looked at me the way he once did. But when his childhood sweetheart returned from abroad, I finally saw the truth. The only thing holding our marriage together was a legal document—cold, lifeless, and easily replaced. So I disguised my divorce papers as a school form and watched him sign them without even glancing up. That careless signature ended our marriage— and freed me. Now, as I start a new life in another country, I carry more than my independence. I carry his child. When Zayne discovers what he’s lost—his wife and his heir— he’ll do anything to find me. But the woman he once ignored no longer exists. He taught me how to break. Now he’ll learn what it means to lose me.

My boyfriend, Cedric Lambert, and I have been in a long-distance relationship for three years. I video call him every night. The first time I notice a pink scarf that doesn't belong in his room, I take a screenshot and confront him. But before he can answer, his older sister, Cecilia Lambert, messages me. "Naomi, that's my scarf. I must've accidentally left it at his place the last time I visited." The second time, I spot two used condom wrappers in the corner of the screen. One of his friends immediately sends me a screenshot of a hotel booking. "Naomi, this one's on me," Kian Callahan explains. "I was just messing around with Ced and didn't think about how it would look. I'm sorry." These incidents keep happening for the third and fourth time. But every time something suspicious appears in the background of his video calls, someone conveniently steps forward to claim it. Then comes Cedric's birthday. Without telling anyone, I take an eight-hour train to his city, hoping to surprise him. Instead, I find the area outside his apartment building decorated for a wedding. A large sign beside the entrance reads, "Congratulations, Cedric Lambert & Addison Ross!" Beside the entrance is a large wedding portrait of Cedric with a woman I've never seen before, his arms wrapped around her as they kiss. I bite down hard on my lip until I taste blood. With trembling fingers, I type a message into our group chat. "I just received a wedding invitation from a woman named Addison Ross. Does anyone know her?" The group falls completely silent. After a long moment, my best friend, Scarlett Crosby, finally breaks the silence. "Addison's a friend of mine. She must've sent it to the wrong address by mistake," she explains. "Just keep the invitation, Naomi. I'll explain everything later." Hot tears splatter against the glass of my screen as my chest tightens. So it turns out Cedric isn't the only one who's been betraying me these past three years.

During the long National Day holidays, I planned a Golden Highlands trip for the whole family. I even booked tickets for a luxurious train ride so we could enjoy the scenery. But on departure day, my husband and son vanished. I called my husband. I could hear an airport boarding announcement in the background. My voice trembled. "Where are you?" He panicked and mumbled that the company had an emergency before hanging up. I tried calling again, but the line was busy. The next day, he posted an update on his social media. In the photo, he stood beneath the snowy peaks of Wintercrown with one arm around his old love while the other held our son. The caption read: [If we had been a little braver back then...] A friend commented: [Where is your wife?] I stared at his reply: [She's sick and resting at home.] Three expired train tickets sat on the table as my eyes welled up with tears. A decade of marriage. A pack of lies. It was time to bring it all to a close.

The day I land a hundred-million-dollar deal for the company, my girlfriend—Paisley Needham, the CEO—finally agrees to marry me. The next day, I wait at the city hall until it closes. She never shows up. Instead, what I get is her official announcement with her assistant, Jude Grayford. In the photo, she nestles in his arms. A crisp marriage license sits in her hand, impossible to miss. The caption reads, "My CEO, Ms. Paisley Needham, couldn't bear to see me going on blind dates, so she just went ahead and got the marriage license with me today. I'm so happy!" My colleagues gossip, assuming I'll be jealous and furious. I don't. I just like the post and comment, "So, when's the ceremony? Don't forget to invite me!" Paisley calls immediately, cursing me out. "I just didn't want to see him being pressured into blind dates by his parents, so I agreed to get married on paper to keep them off his back. It's not like we're actually married. Do you really have to be so petty? "Delete your comment right now and get on your knees to apologize to Jude. If you don't, I'll never marry you." I laughed bitterly. "Even better," I say. "I hope you two have a long, happy life together… and have lots of kids."

My cheating husband, Steve Manson, gets hit by a car and suffers brain damage. After the accident, he can only say two words—"Yes" and "No". He can't say anything else. And somehow, every answer he gives has to be the truth. For once, it feels like heaven is finally on my side. I ask, "Is the woman you're having an affair with my best friend?" His face turns pale, but his mouth moves against his will. "Yes." "Did you transfer assets behind my back?" "Yes." "Is your bank account password your first love's birthday?" "Yes." Thanks to this bizarre ability of his, I successfully send the mistress to prison and walk away with all of his assets. Yet, he can't even curse me out no matter how much he wants it. Then one day, a handsome food delivery guy flirts with me. I turn to look at Steve, who stands there with the same dull expression as always. "Are you really my husband? Why aren't you even jealous?" Without hesitation, he blurts out, "No." I freeze instantly and stare into his eyes. After a long silence, I finally ask, "Then is my husband... dead?" He answers, "Yes and no."

With the start of school approaching, my son's long-dormant parent-teacher group chat suddenly announces that there will be a Parent-Teacher Community Night this evening, which also serves as the first parent-teacher conference of the semester. The only requirement is that both parents need to be present. A flurry of messages from the other students' parents appear below the announcement, all of them confirming their attendance. I'm just about to reply when I notice that someone else has already done it faster than me. A woman with a family photo as her profile picture sends a voice message into the group. "Got it! Teddy's parents will both be there!" I stiffen at once and click through all the accounts in the group chat to double-check everyone. My son's name is Theodore Baird, and everyone calls him "Teddy" for short. But, if she's representing Teddy's parents, then who am I supposed to be? I immediately call up my husband, Joseph Baird. However, before I can even get a word in, I hear him speaking in a cheerful voice. "Darling? Derrick just invited me over for dinner tonight. I'll be bringing Teddy along. You can just have dinner without me and go to bed early." I feel my heart drop to my stomach. Derrick Johnson's wife, Angela Peters, is one of my good friends. However, I clearly remember seeing her showing off a vacation photo of her and Derrick having the time of their lives in the Palmives just this morning. How can Derrick possibly be inviting Joseph over for dinner, then? I remain silent for a short while. Then, I smile and reply that I got it. After hanging up, I immediately call an Uber to bring me to Teddy's school. I'm going to see for myself who this "other parent" of Teddy's really is.

The day Stella Jameson was released early from prison for good behavior, my husband Samuel Xenos, who was always so calm and collected, lost control. He did everything he could to please Stella in her bed. He said that our marriage was nothing but fake. He never had any real feelings for me. And that lawsuit, for which he risked his life to win for me three years ago, was nothing but a complete setup. [Zara, the man you love most is just my dog. He comes whenever I call. He has always been like this. He’s no different from Victor back then.] That was the message Stella sent me to taunt me. I wiped my tears and prepared a big surprise for them.

My wife, Regina Morgan, insists on being childfree. Yet, she gets pregnant with her first love, Lucas Jenson's, child and is now about to give birth. My mom can't tolerate her behavior, so she confronts Regina. Regina calls Mom a crude, unreasonable country bumpkin and locks her inside a coffin to teach her a lesson. The moment I learn about it, I rush over and beg Regina to let Mom out. After all, Mom is claustrophobic. Regina, however, is too busy rushing to the delivery room. She finds me annoying, so she orders her bodyguards to knock me out and lock me in a storage room. When I come to, Mom's already dead. The inside of the coffin is covered in claw marks from her desperate struggle. Meanwhile, Regina successfully welcomes her son into the world. Her family gathers around her, celebrating the newborn's arrival. When she doesn't see me around, she finally remembers to call and check on me. "Have you and your mother finally had enough? You should've calmed down by now. Give me six months to recover, and I'll bear you a child, too. Consider it my way of making it up to Winona." Little does she know, the second Mom dies, our marriage is over.

My wife, Giselle Stone, has severe face blindness. She can't remember anyone's looks, including mine. It's already a norm for her to chat with me animatedly one moment, then her illness kicks in, resulting in her mistaking me as a stranger the next. Giselle screams at the top of her lungs as she fights with me over the steering wheel, causing me to crash the car at the side of the road. As I lie in my puddle of blood, I beg her in a quivering tone to call 911. But Giselle steps over my blood as she bolts over to the police. "Officer, this man is a human trafficker! I don't know him! Please arrest him!" Thank goodness I've already developed the habit of bringing my marriage license and Giselle's medical records with me all the time over the years. After clearing the misunderstanding with the police, I deal with the damages and get my injuries treated before going home. That's when Giselle blocks me at the front door while glaring at me vigilantly. "Why are you here again? I don't know you! Please leave right now!" When I'm about to explain, Giselle's childhood friend, Jasper Langley, steps out and wraps an arm around her shoulders. "He's your husband, Giselle. Calm down now." As I watch the pair hugging each other, I suddenly let out a soft chuckle. We've been married for three years, and yet this is the 677th time Giselle doesn't recognize me. The thing is, she can recognize Jasper every time and always listens to him. In that case, I might as well let Jasper take care of her from now on.

In our third year of trying for a baby, Gideon Tarrant insisted that I go to the snowy peaks of the Kestrel Range to pray for a child. "The old folks say that if a wife climbs Hallow Peak and kneels to pray every three steps, heaven will send her a baby." Because of that, I faced the blizzard in the bitter subzero cold and knelt my way up from the foot of the mountain. When I was nearly at the summit, the smartwatch on my wrist suddenly buzzed. The health app showed that Gideon's heart rate was spiking. Right after that, a video synced automatically to our family cloud album. In a delivery room, Gideon was cutting the umbilical cord with red-rimmed eyes. The woman in the bed was my best friend, Amanda Crowley. Six months earlier, she had come to me in tears and told me she was pregnant and unmarried. My heart went out to her, so I sent her 80,000 dollars. She did not accept it. She only sent back one line: [Hazel, thank you for giving me the best of everything.] I thought she meant all the ways I had looked after her over the years. At this moment, as I watched the video, I saw that the people gathered around her bed were my own family. My father was holding the baby, tears of joy running down his weathered face. My mother sat at the bedside, her eyes full of tenderness. "Just focus on getting your strength back. We'll make sure Hazel doesn't find out." My brother went even further and pressed a thick envelope of cash into Gideon's hand. "Gideon, once Hazel's prayed that blessing down for Mandy, we'll have her clear out and make room for our big boy!" My husband, Gideon, held Amanda's hand tightly and pressed a tender kiss to her forehead. "This time, I'm never going to let you or the baby get hurt again." I lifted my head stiffly and looked up at the prayer ribbon tied to the branch above me. Gideon had written the wish on it himself. It read: [May my beloved be kept safe.] It turned out I was never a part of the beloved he had been praying for.