Melodramatic Romance Short Stories & Novels

My fiancé, Skyler Grant, barges into the art gallery where my work is being exhibited and trashes the place. "You plagiarized Leah's work and pushed her to jump off a building! I can't believe you have the gall to have an exhibition here! I have to seek justice for her!" He sets the gallery on fire, leading to stray glass shards damaging my eyes. I'm tormented by the pain of losing my work and vision when Leah Rivers returns. She says indifferently, "It was April Fool's yesterday, and I was just fooling around. You're not mad at me, are you?" I charge at her hysterically, but Skyler shields her. "They're just some canvases—so what if they're gone? You can paint them again." He has no idea that I'll never paint again.

After five years of building a business with my wife, Jane Fletcher, our company finally goes public. Right after I close a big business deal, I head home in high spirits, ready to take her to meet my family. She transfers me 100 dollars with a hint of annoyance and says, "Buy yourself a decent shirt to wear for the financial conference on the day after tomorrow." The next day, Ansel Meyer—the underprivileged student she sponsors—shows up in a custom suit worth two million dollars. He says apologetically, "Mr. Crane, please do not be mad at Ms. Fletcher. She just wants to give me the best. Maybe she thinks you are used to these things, so she only gave you 100 dollars." I call Jane, but she replies impatiently, "It is just a suit. Why are you being so petty?" All of a sudden, I no longer want to continue this marriage. So, I make two calls decisively. "Hey, Mitch. I am not going to go through with that 50-million deal." "Mom, hold on to the 300-million wedding gift you prepared for your daughter-in-law."

"I always thought I had found the perf 'Once she gives birth, I’ll divorce her.' 'When I have sex with her, I cover her head with a pillow because the other side of the pillow has your picture It turns out, I was just surrogate tool, and all his affection was fake. So, I When I started a new life, Gu Songqian came knocking on my door: 'Actually, I love both of you equally. From now on, you’ll live on the west side, and she’ll live on the east side, and you won’t disturb each other.'"

On the eve of my wedding, my wife, Sharon Moonstone, drugged me and knocked me unconscious. She let her first love, Aaron Miller, take my place as the groom, standing beside her as they held the wedding that was supposed to belong to both of us. By the time I finally found them, they had already gone into the bridal suite and consummated their marriage. When I demanded answers, Sharon did not show a trace of guilt. "You live off me. You'd better behave. Make a scene, and we'll divorce." My heart went cold. I handed her the divorce papers, but she barely looked at them. "Looks like you've improved," she said lightly. "At least you know a performance should be convincing from start to finish."

After finishing my meal, I went to the cashier counter to settle the bill as usual. It took me longer than usual because the signal was poor. By the time I settled the bill, I could not find Corbin, my boyfriend, or Mabel, my best friend, anywhere inside or outside the restaurant. I called over a dozen times before they finally answered. “You were taking too long, so we just went ahead. “We’re at the Perler bead craft store on the second floor. Hurry up and get over here. The mall was packed and even more crowded than usual for the holiday. The elevator came twice, and both times it was full. So, I gave up and took the escalator instead. By the time I got to the store, every seat at the craft table was already taken. Corbin and Mabel were sitting together, talking about starting at Northbridge University this September and planning out the next ten years of their lives, from graduate school all the way to their doctorates. It was this grand plan for their future, and I had no place in it. They had already made plans to enroll in prestigious universities as early as May. I, however, failed my PSATs and was still considering repeating a year to catch up. Seeing me standing frozen at the door, Corbin said in a helpless tone, “You’re always so slow. Just wait outside for now.” I watched their backs, and a sudden exhaustion washed over me. “Corbin, I’m done chasing you.”

I ended my business trip earlier and went back home, but the moment I pushed the door open, I nearly vomited from the rotten stench that stank up the entire house. Ten minutes ago, Selena Niles, my wife, posted in the Moms Unite group. [I read together with Dolce today again. It might be tiring bringing up a kid, but mothers need to be part of their children’s growth.] Dolce looked up. Her face was dirty, and she said to me sadly, “Dad, Mom is playing with Howard in the bedroom.” Howard Zimmer. That was my childhood best friend. I treated him like a brother of mine, gave him a job, and let him move into my house. I was not expecting him to “take care” of my wife and daughter like this during the few days I was away on a business trip. While I squashed down my anger and cleaned the living room, I found a long, black thing among Dolce’s toys. At first I thought that it was my stun baton, but when I did a Google search on it with my phone, the item description made my stomach churn. [An adult toy. Silent. Easy to carry and can vibrate.] Meanwhile, my stun baton was nowhere to be found. At 2 a.m., a pained screech tore through the air.

During an ambush, I risked everything to save Matthew, but in doing so, I lost the ability to stand—my legs were permanently damaged. Matthew was devastated. Holding me close, he swore he would love me forever and never betray me. Overwhelmed with emotion, I agreed to marry him. In secret, I sought medical treatment, and after a long, gruelling journey, the day finally came when the doctor told me I could walk again. Overjoyed, I rushed home, eager to share the incredible news with him. However, the moment I pushed open the door, my world collapsed. Matthew was fooling around with his female assistant—right there in our home. On our bed. Wrapped in each other's arms, they kissed passionately, completely lost in the moment. As things heated up, the woman gazed at him and murmured, "Matt, why don't you just leave that cripple? She can't satisfy you at all." "Don't you love the thrill of sneaking around? It wouldn't be nearly as exciting if I left her." A wave of icy rage surged through me. So that was what our marriage meant to him—nothing more than a twisted game, a joke between him and his mistress. Drained and heartbroken, I turned and walked out. That night, I booked a flight back to my hometown. I was done with this city. Let Matthew live with his regret.

When my wedding gets delayed for the 99th time, I call the company in charge of planning the wedding and tell them to swap my name out for Julian Foster's childhood sweetheart, Madison Hart. "We understand what you mean, Ms. Sinclair. But are you sure you want to make the change? It seems that Mr. Foster has no intention of delaying the wedding this time." As I listen to the shocked host's words, I stare at the draft on the monitor. Groom: Julian Foster Bride: Olivia Sinclair But the design's special note shows, "Adjust the theme according to champagne yellow, Madison's favorite color." Madison is Julian's childhood sweetheart. Even though he claims that she's only lending a hand in referencing the wedding's designs, the truth is, she's the one calling the shots in the wedding's flower arrangement, wedding gifts, as well as the wedding anthem during the bride's entrance. She even leaves an airy comment about my wedding dress. "A fishtail gown suits her more." After dragging the document into the recycle bin, I reply calmly, "Yes. Please change the bride's name to Madison." I shall return the wedding that's filled with Madison's traces to her and Julian without altering a single thing. After that, I will retreat from this bunch of nonsense unscathed. Finally, we shall part ways permanently. Julian can stay with the woman he truly wants to be with, while I can enjoy the unbridled freedom on my own.

My husband was ruled by his obsessive-compulsive disorder, enforcing rigid schedules that governed our household. On our daughter's birthday, he and his assistant showed up late. The girl, who mirrored her father's need for order, wasn't upset. She just smiled and invited them to cut her cake. My heart shattered as I watched their cream-covered faces and joyful photos. The next day, I handed him the divorce agreement, confusing him. "Just because Edith didn't cut the cake with you?" "Yes."

After four years of supporting the prettiest girl on campus who was secretly penniless, Hayden Simpson had spoiled Sylvie Scott so rotten that even a single strand of her hair was precious. He used his connections to search for kidney donors across the country, saving her mother from the clutches of death. He pulled strings at an elite school in Jamesville to enroll her younger brother, Morgan Scott, grooming him into a proper gentleman. He spent a fortune investing in her entrepreneurial project, making her a successful businesswoman. On the eve of their wedding, Hayden unexpectedly saw her childhood sweetheart, Joshua Gillman, embracing her. His eyes were rimmed red as his heart broke inside his chest.

Rhys Lockhart, a brash and unruly trust-fund heir, comes back home from abroad and discovers he's already been married off without his consent. His bride is Elara Waverly, the head of Waverly Corp, and a full eight years older than him. Rhys naturally wants no part of it. So, when he hears she's the disciplined, immaculate type with a serious thing about cleanliness, he makes a point of it. He shows up in ripped streetwear and a backward baseball cap, a row of silver studs lining his ear. His parents turn red with embarrassment and move to apologize, but Elara simply leans forward with quiet composure, her slender fingers gently steadying them. Her voice is cool and clear. "This arrangement already asks too much of Mr. Lockhart. If anyone should be apologizing, it's me." Rhys freezes, and he slowly lifts his head. Beneath the cool detachment in her gaze, her amber eyes are filled with warmth.

After we got married, my husband gave every piece of jewelry he bought me its own name. "This watch is Renee. This four-leaf clover bracelet is Phoebe. This diamond ring is Shannon..." My best friend looked puzzled. "Why do those all sound like women's names?" I smiled. "Because they are. "They're all named after women Derek Shaw cheated on me with. Every time I caught him, he would give me another piece." There were ninety-nine pieces in all. The first time I discovered his infidelity was the day after our wedding. I'd trashed our new home then. Derek simply wrapped his arms around me from behind, took my hand, and asked if it hurt. That night, he slipped a bracelet I had had my eye on onto my wrist. "I was just having a little fun. If you don't like her, I'll get rid of her." Over the three years we were married, some version of that scene played out almost every day. My heart went from twisting in agony to slowly being worn numb. I opened the box in my hands. Inside was a pearl necklace named Jenny. I used to tell myself that he was only fooling around and that, deep down, he still loved me. But this time was different. Derek had truly fallen for her. He took her to Tayhollow to see the ocean and laid the groundwork for her future after graduation... I ran my fingers over the pearls without the slightest flicker of emotion. "This is the hundredth, and I just don't have it in me to keep doing this anymore…"

When I remarried Thomas Quinn, Stacie Browning, the fake heiress, showed up in funeral clothes to make a scene. Instead of getting angry, Thomas turned to me, still in my wedding gown, and said offhandedly, "Rose, Stacie has been delicate ever since she was little. She can't wear scratchy burlap like this. "You're thick-skinned anyway. Swap clothes with her." Stacie stared at my slightly rounded belly with jealous eyes, then pouted and whined at Thomas, "The wedding dress has to be disinfected first, or it'll be all stinky, and I won't wear it!" I was trading my wedding gown for funeral clothes, and she still turned her nose up at it. Snickers rippled through the crowd. But I didn't scream or throw a fit the way I used to. Instead, with stiff fingers, I peeled off the ill-fitting wedding gown layer by layer. It felt like flaying away more than ten years of love between Thomas and me, skin and flesh together. Just as I was about to strip completely bare, Thomas suddenly yanked off his suit jacket and hurled it at me. "Rose, do you have any shame left at all?!" The jacket still held the warmth of his body, even warmer than the day we first met. Yet draped over me now, it felt bone-chillingly cold. The truth was, the wedding gown didn't matter. Neither did my pride. What mattered was that I could save my daughter, Poppy. And soon, I would be flying far away from here, taking the little life growing inside me with me.

I've just received a text from my CEO wife, Cara Lavigne. Apparently, she's gone on another last-minute business trip again, so she can't accompany me to the funeral home. But soon, I see Cara's silhouette being captured in a photo, where she celebrates her assistant, Warren Stone's birthday with him in a work-related post he has just uploaded. The caption reads, "Thank you for the amazing cake, boss! I feel so happy to be able to celebrate my birthday!" I just smile calmly before leaving a like and a comment. "Happy birthday." My colleagues, on the other hand, start betting pools like mad to see what kind of tricks I'm going to pull this time in order to kick up a ruckus. Cara calls me immediately just to scold me. "Warren is just celebrating his birthday, so what's with the comment? He's a very sensitive person, you know! How is he going to survive in this company now that you've passive-aggressively humiliated him in that public post? "It's been barely two years since Warren joined this company, not to mention he doesn't have any friends! What's wrong with me celebrating his birthday with him, huh? People like you, who are born with silver spoons in their mouths, will never understand Warren's plight! "I want you to delete your comment right now! We'll talk more about this once I'm home! Your dad is already dead anyway, so you can just wait for a few more days before claiming his body!" I can only clench my fists tightly as I listen to Cara's heartless and nonchalant words. "No need for that." Once she is back, the divorce procedures will be done.

We finally made it to the County Clerk's Office with only fifteen minutes to spare before they stopped processing marriage licenses. Our friends were already gathered at the bottom of the steps, urging us to go inside. "Come on, get in there! After everything you two have been through, you finally made it in time for the eighth try!" My best friend, Ryan Chapman, had red-rimmed eyes as he reached over and straightened my tie for me. I was just about to walk inside when Chester Snyder, Melissa's childhood friend, suddenly spoke from the back seat. "Wait. My lucky bracelet broke. I need to fix it first." I stopped. Melissa stopped, too. "Okay. No rush." Chester lowered his head and began adjusting the bracelet, then looked up at me with a smile. "Don't worry, Zane. I will have it fixed in a minute. "I made these lucky bracelets especially for the two of you. They are supposed to bring good luck and help keep your marriage smooth." When he finished, he casually handed his phone to Melissa. "Can you hold this for me?" Melissa took it without a word. The chatter around us suddenly died. The friends who had been cheering us on moments ago exchanged uneasy looks. I looked at Melissa. "Melissa, the County Clerk's Office stops processing marriage licenses at five. "If we go in now, we will make it just in time." Melissa frowned and glanced at the time. "I'm already here. A few more minutes won't make a difference." I watched her stand beside the car, patiently waiting while Chester fixed his bracelet. Then, suddenly, I smiled. I lowered my head, took out my phone, and sent a message to a number I knew by heart. [You said that if the eighth attempt failed, you'd consider giving me a chance.] [Get to the County Clerk's Office before five.]

Six years after marrying Rhiannon Westley, she takes a lover. He's like a puppy—timid and clingy. He flinches at the slightest raised voice, so Rhiannon never loses her temper in front of him. But when he acts up in front of me, Rhiannon snaps. She's furious, and she gives him a harsh scolding. The next day, he sends me a photo of his neck covered in red marks. "Zane, Ms. Westley is so fierce..."

Before my wedding, I went to find my fiancé with a pregnancy test in hand, intending to surprise him. Instead, I overheard a heated argument between two men on the terrace. "My dear brother, didn't you personally send her to my bed just to get revenge for Elena?" The man, identical to my fiancé, twirled a USB drive in his hand, a wicked smirk playing on his lips. I had been with my fiancé for seven years, yet I had no idea he had a twin brother. What was worse, I never realized that during those passionate nights when I thought my fiancé was finally showing me affection, the man lying beside me was actually his twin. And all of this happened simply because their "savior" despised me. To repay his debt to her, my fiancé tacitly allowed this humiliation. It turned out that the love I had cherished for seven years was nothing more than a twisted game of revenge the brothers had orchestrated together, all to please another woman.

On the day of our graduation trip, my boyfriend, Josiah Holt, and my childhood friend, Meredith Sloan, leave me behind at a highway rest stop. They drive for half an hour before realizing that I am missing. When Josiah calls me, there is no panic in his voice, only impatience. "Calliope, why didn't you get in the car? Stop messing around. We're rushing to catch the sunset. We can't turn back for you. Just take a taxi and catch up with us yourself." Through the phone, Meredith's voice comes through clearly. "She's not a child. You can't expect to take care of her forever, can you?" In the past, I would have apologized with tears in my eyes. Then I would drag my luggage along and do everything I could to catch up with them. But this time, as I stare at the gray-blue sky outside the rest stop, I suddenly no longer want to chase after them. I cancel all the hotels I have booked for the rest of the trip. Then, I change my ticket and head to a seaside town I have always wanted to visit—the one they always dismissed as boring. From this moment on, the world is my oyster. I finally set out on my own journey, no longer trailing after anyone.

Being naturally competitive, I must take first place in any game. So, when someone on the yacht suggests playing the no-looking-back game, everyone laughs and says I'm sure to win. The rule is that I stay where I am and can't turn around. If I do, I lose. My girlfriend, Selena Hodge, and good friend, Ivan Motley, stand behind me. Meanwhile, my older brother, Mack Carson, is in charge of finding a way to trick me into looking back. Not long after the game starts, Mack suddenly shouts, "Chuck, Selena is holding Ivan's hand!" When Mack sees that I don't even bat an eye, he says with a smile, "You're really not going to look back? Those two are already hugging." I remain unmoving. That is, until Mack says drily, "Chuck, they're kissing." Even though I know it's a trick to make me turn around, I still do it anyway. Ivan's head is bowed, while Selena's face is tilted upward. The two of them are indeed kissing. My mind goes blank, and I walk over to pull the two apart. Ivan's face instantly goes pale, and Selena too falls silent for a long time. In the end, it's Mack who finally speaks up. "Chuck, the two of them must have just acted on impulse. Besides, we all thought you'd never look back for the sake of winning. Who'd have guessed you actually did?" Only then does Ivan speak. "Chuck, I'm not going to lie to you—Selena spent four years chasing me. We just don't want to look back on our four years in college with regret." I have always known that Selena spent four years chasing a guy in college. During those four years, I watch her get drunk over that guy and comfort her as she curses him for having no taste. However, I never know that guy is Ivan. Yet, everyone knows. Only I am always the one kept in the dark.

It was the seventh year that I spent with Tristan Zabel. His junior from school, Cassandra White, cried over a breakup for the twelfth time in the middle of the night. He got anxious and put on his jacket to leave. “Jimelle, Cass’ supervisor is giving her a hard time, and she just got played by some douchebag. If I don’t go, she’s going to spiral, and something bad could happen to her.” In the past, I would turn hysterical, call her a fake, and block the door to keep him from leaving. But this time, I endured the cramps from my acute gastritis and calmly nodded. “Poor Cass. You should go be with her. Stay a few days if you need to.” Just then, Cassandra’s tearful voice came through his phone. “Tristan, I’m so scared! When are you coming?” He was stunned when he noticed the cold sweat on my forehead. “You look pale. I can stay tonight if you’re not feeling well—” “It’s fine. I’ll take some medicine and sleep it off.” I cut him off, pressed the car keys into his hand and said, “Go. Don’t keep her waiting.” He had no idea I was keeping score. It was strike twelve, and he had just run out of chances. Tomorrow, I would get on a plane and fly to the overseas headquarters with a visa in hand. By the time he realized I was gone, it would be too late for him to find me again.