Melodramatic Romance Short Stories & Novels

I'm ridiculously easy to fool. I trust every word that comes from others. One particularly awful year, an older student scams me out of all the money I have to live on. Dustin Emerson gives me half of what he has. He's the one person I know won't lie to me. He tells me, "You're not stupid. People are just awful, so stop trusting them and trust me instead." An hour before my grad school entrance exam, Dustin texts me. "I got into a car accident. I'm at the hospital. Come quick." I rush to the hospital, only to find Dustin and my best friend, Emily Levine, sitting at a convenience store eating nachos. Emily bursts out laughing, slapping her thigh. "See? I told you she'd fall for it. One text, and she came running instead of going to her exam." Dustin picks up a chip and holds it to her mouth. "Alright, you win. A bet's a bet. I'll take you to the theme park today." I stare at them in disbelief. Dustin pulls out a tissue and wipes the sweat from my face. "You're about to graduate, and the real world can be brutal. This is your first lesson." My voice shakes. "My entrance exam is today!" Emily purses her lips. "Okay, okay. Sharon's so upset she's about to cry. Let's get her back before she fails and blames us for it." The moment Dustin sees me crying, he gets worried too. He floors it and gets me to the exam center with just one minute to spare. I'm just starting to relax when a proctor stops me. "This exam ID is fake. You need to leave." When I look down at the paper in my hand, I realize someone has swapped out my real exam ID. There's a huge doodle of a pig's face on it, with a message written beside it. "Sharon, you dummy! I'm keeping your exam ID safe for you. Surprise!" Underneath is another message. "Don't make the same mistake twice. This is lesson number two." I recognize Emily's handwriting and Dustin's. I may not always know when I'm being lied to, but now I know who truly means well and who doesn't. I won't be so quick to trust anyone again.

My wife and I were both messed up in our own ways. I was possessive, while she liked seeing me get angry. She said emotions were proof of love. If you loved someone, you would get angry. Just to see me lose my temper, she deliberately went against me at every turn. I hated her staying in contact with her first love, Chris, yet she arranged for him to work under her. I repeatedly warned her not to meet him in private, but she still went on dates with him and even made a point of telling me about them. I hated the smell of cigarette smoke on Chris, so she brought him home to stay for a week and made me smell cigarette smoke every single day. I completely lost my temper and, for the first time, threatened to leave home. Nicole panicked. To win me back, she stood outside in the pouring rain all night. She probably apologized to me ten thousand times, and only then did I forgive her. I warned her that she wasn't allowed to pull anything like that again, or I would never forgive her. But on the day of the family gathering, she still brought Chris with her. She introduced him to my parents without the slightest hesitation. "This is my ex-boyfriend, Chris. From now on, the three of us are going to live together. Honey, isn't that right?" Nicole looked at me expectantly. She was waiting for me to get angry and lose my temper again. She wanted the intensity of my reaction to prove just how deeply I loved her. But this time, I saw my parents' faces turn red with anger. I also saw my in-laws smiling from ear to ear. Suddenly, I felt neither anger nor affection toward her. Right there and then, I scheduled a divorce appointment and calmly told her, "That won't be necessary. Three people in one relationship is too restrictive. Let's get divorced. You can be with him."

Kelly and I had been in a long-distance relationship for three years. After working overtime for a month to make time so I could see her, she could not be reached. I waited alone in that unfamiliar place for ten whole hours before I finally got a reply from her. My best friend, Hayden, called me and said gleefully, "Zachary, surprise! I've already explored Stranton for you. It's amazing. Kelly is a great tour guide!" He excitedly shared his experiences, as if he had not noticed the 30 missed calls I left on Kelly's phone. I listened quietly until he mentioned feeling cold. Kelly took the phone and said bluntly, "I'll take him back to the hotel first. Give us a minute." After she finished speaking, I asked, "Do you know how long I've been waiting?" Kelly paused, her tone turning cold. "He's your friend. Are you really going to make a fuss out of this?" The blatant rebuke completely extinguished my desire to reply. After hanging up, my ride back to Jazzville arrived. The driver glanced at me and could not help but say, "Young man, it's the middle of the night. This area is quite dangerous. What urgent matter kept you waiting until now?" Looking at my shoes, which had been soaked by the snow, I softly replied, "It was urgent at the time." Then, I smiled and continued, "But not anymore."

My wife, Sienna Fairchild, has one ironclad rule. Every Monday, she has dinner with her brother-in-law. During that time, she turns off her phone and blocks every message. Nothing, no matter how urgent, takes priority over their little family gathering. Then one day, our daughter falls down the stairs at preschool and breaks her arm. I call Sienna over a dozen times, but not a single one goes through. With no other option, I call her brother-in-law instead. "Abby got hurt at school. Can you have Sienna come to the hospital?" The other end goes quiet. Just when I think the call has been dropped, Sienna's voice comes through. "My whole day belongs to them. Don't bother me unless it's actually important." The line goes dead. I stand frozen, staring at my daughter crying on the hospital bed. She looks up at me with red, tear-filled eyes. "Daddy, does Mommy not want me anymore?" I choke back the lump in my throat as exhaustion washes over me. Maybe it's time to find my daughter a new mother.

In the seventh year of standing by Ethan Cole as we built our company from nothing, we finally took it public. And on the very same day, he couldn’t wait to block me and make his relationship with his first love official. The social feed exploded. “Back then, Nina left a six-figure job to help you start this company. Now that you’ve gone public, you’re just going to kick her to the curb?” Ethan replied, clearly annoyed: “People settle when they’re broke. Back then, I didn’t have options. “And after seven years with her, I’m more sure than ever that if I ever get married, it’ll be to someone I actually love.” His friends kept trying to talk sense into him. “Nina’s handling most of the company on her own now. What if she quits because of this? What are you going to do then?” Ethan hesitated for a second, then doubled down. “She’s just a secretary. You could pull anyone off the street and train them to do her job. The company doesn’t need her.” What he didn’t know was that on the other side of the screen, I was watching his still-logged-in account as those words appeared one by one. I drained my iced Americano in one go. Then I booked a flight home for three days later.

The day the university released the family placement positions for doctoral graduates, I went straight to the Human Resources Office to register. But the staff member barely looked up before rolling their eyes. "Mr. Slater, everyone at this university knows you cheated on your wife and are about to leave the marriage with nothing. How do you still have the nerve to ask about the placement position?" I thought there had been some kind of misunderstanding. I rushed home, hoping to explain everything to my wife, only for my mother to slap me across the face. "I don't have a shameless son like you. Get out of Natalie's house!" I was driven back to the rural school where I had spent the past three years teaching. But by then, the entire village was filled with rumors about me, and even the children avoided me. The day I received the divorce papers my wife had mailed me, I returned home. But before I could enter, I overheard her talking to her friends through the half-open door. "Natalie, you spread those rumors and forced your husband into divorcing you just so Mr. Talbot could get that placement position. Aren't you worried your husband won't remarry you afterward?" She let out a dismissive laugh. "Not even my mother-in-law has a problem with it. No one but me would marry a penniless man like him! Ian needs this job more than he does. In a week, once everything's settled, I'll forgive him for 'cheating' and take him back. He'll be so grateful that he'll probably thank me for the rest of his life." My grip tightened around the divorce agreement until my knuckles turned white. If that was how it was going to be, then I would give her the divorce. But once I signed those papers, she could forget about ever remarrying me.

It's the third year of our secret marriage, and there are still only three pairs of indoor slippers in the shoe cabinet—a pair for my wife, Renee Hickman, a pair for her friend, Penny Falcon, and a pair for her student, Aspen Frost. However, mine's not there. I look at the disposable indoor slippers Renee hands me and ask flatly, "Where are the cotton slippers that I bought?" She doesn't even look at me as she replies, "I threw them away before they came here." I reply with a grunt. Suppressing the bitterness rising in my chest, I ask casually, "Did Aspen come along this time too?" "No." She's lying. I know that because Aspen just sent me a taunting text message earlier. "I actually feel pity for you. You always have to pretend like you're just the garbage disposal guy every time we're here. Have you ever wondered whether she can't make your marriage public, or simply doesn't want to?" I turn off my phone and enter the bathroom. The smudged intertwined handprints on the mirror stare back at me like some declaration of war. As I walk past Renee, I don't bother asking her why she's lying to me. I don't even question why her pinned contact is someone with an aspen tree as their profile photo instead of mine. After watching a movie with her while she applies a facial beauty mask, I pull out the slippers she hid inside the safe and slide them toward her, smiling. "If you cherish him so much, then you shouldn't keep him hidden in the shadows anymore."

The day I found out we had only $2,200 left in savings, I spent $2,000 on a ticket to a piano recital. When my friend found out, he asked if I'd lost my mind. I said without expression, "I just want to see what kind of man is worth her draining all our savings just to buy him a high-end piano. That money was supposed to save our daughter's life. Annie was waiting for it so she could have surgery." The recital lasted two full hours. Everyone around me marveled at the beautiful music. But all I could think about was the man onstage, and—Audrey McMillan, my wife, seated directly in front of him in an expensive evening gown, looking so elegant and privileged that I barely recognized her. After every piece, she was the first to applaud. There was an eagerness in her eyes I'd never seen before. It wasn't until the recital ended that I finally received a message from her after two months of silence, along with a bank transfer. [I'm sorry, Samuel. The factory was having cash-flow problems a while back, so I borrowed the savings from that account.] [My boss said he'll pay me back the rest as soon as the money comes in. Didn't you say Annie got sick and was hospitalized recently? Take this $5,000 for now in case you need it.] I looked up at the two people embracing in the center of the stage, declined the transfer, and replied that I didn't need it. There was no need anymore. I'd never need her money again. Our daughter, Annie Davidson, was dead. None of it mattered anymore.

In the seventh year of my long-distance relationship with my girlfriend Quinn Summers, I quit my job without telling her and traveled more than six-hundred miles to Oceanton. I only wanted to surprise her and ask her to marry me. When the receptionist heard I was looking for Quinn, her expression slightly shifted. "Our CEO Ms. Summers is still in a meeting. Please wait a moment." I was surprised. Quinn had never told me she had been promoted. During our video call last week, she had even complained about how stressful work was and how far away a promotion felt. When I turned around, I heard the receptionist whispering to her coworker. "So… This is the guy Ms. Summers is keeping on the side? Seriously, he has some nerve, coming all the way to the company." "If Mr. Gomez finds out Ms. Summers is cheating during their marriage, this is going to be very bad." I was about to turn back and tell them they had the wrong person. Quinn was not married, and I was her real boyfriend of ten years. But before I could speak, a man in a black suit walked in from the revolving door. The receptionists immediately fell silent and greeted him with deep respect. "Mr. Gomez." The man was on the phone, his voice low and gentle. "Honey, I'm downstairs. You must come with me to your prenatal checkup today!" A clear female voice came through the phone, agonizingly sweet. "I know, honey. The meeting's almost over. Wait for me at the guest lounge." I had listened to that voice for seven years. I knew it far too well. It was my girlfriend, Quinn.

My mother-in-law, Susan Thorne, was trapped in a fire, and her life was in grave danger. She called me for help. When I arrived, I saw a male actor, Maximus Lance, pouring gasoline onto the fire for a variety show’s effect. I tried to stop him, but he simply threw a lawyer’s letter in my face and said, “Who are you to mess with our show’s filming? I’ll sue you into bankruptcy!” I smashed the camera and yelled that someone was still inside. The male actor just lit a cigarette nonchalantly and said, “So? My wife is the fire chief. She’s the one who told them to light this fire. “Even if someone’s in there, it’s probably just a nobody. She can fix it.” I saw the ring on his finger. It was the ring I thought would be mine. I scoffed and dialed 911. “Hello? I want to report someone for deliberate arson and attempted murder at an abandoned factory.”

As I sign the form to terminate my pregnancy, the doctor asks me for the third time, "You were willing to risk your health to keep this baby. What changed?" I press my hand to my belly. "A bottle of essential oil." Yesterday, the moment I open the car door, a sharp wave of rosemary hits me and sends my morning sickness spiraling. I reach for the window, but Adrian Lockwood grabs my hand. "Don't open it. Sloane loves this scent. She'll be upset if it fades." I freeze. "I'm pregnant. This isn't safe for the baby." He frowns, his voice full of impatience. "Stop being dramatic. You always use the baby as an excuse. It's just essential oil. What's it going to do?" Then he pulls the bottle from the glove compartment, places it right next to my air vent, and cranks the dial higher. "Just tough it out. We're almost home. Sloane can't fall asleep without it." The smell thickens until my eyes sting and my temples throb. I don't say another word. I quietly unbuckle my seatbelt and get out. Adrian never indulges my moods. He leans over, slams the passenger door shut, and drives off. I stare at the ultrasound, at the tiny shadow that already has a heartbeat, and close my eyes. If he doesn't care about me, I don't need him either.

My father was dying. There was no time to waste. Every flight and express-train seat to Meadowridge was sold out that day. The only remaining option was a last-minute business-class airline ticket costing twelve hundred dollars. My wife, Marissa Langley, a corporate president earning eight figures a year, frowned at the price. "Do you know what that much money means to this family?" "You're a stay-at-home husband who gets to live comfortably while I work. You never think about how hard I earn our money." Then she froze my cards. She took my phone. She kept my driver's license so I couldn't buy the ticket. Because of her, I missed my father's final moments completely. After the funeral, I saw a social-media post showing her celebrating the birthday of Tyler Beckett, the college intern in her department. The cheapest present she gave him was a custom Velvet Swan cake that cost thirty-three hundred dollars.

Penelope Rivera's little boy toy, Theodore Schneider, is throwing another tantrum. She slides the divorce papers across the table toward me. "Just sign them for show. It's to keep Teddy happy." I clench the cuff of my suit and nod in silence. I sign my name in one swift stroke. As I'm walking out, I hear one of her girlfriends teasing, "Samuel's way too easygoing. Does he actually do everything you say?" Penelope takes a graceful sip of red wine and smirks. "Wanna bet?" They bet that I will quietly go through with the divorce at the courthouse, even if my eyes are red with tears. Listening their laughter, I rub my thumb over my phone screen and reply to the message I've just received. "Will you marry me?" it says. "I will."

A new game had become the latest craze among Jexford’s wealthy elite: drawing lots to choose a bride. On the day of Grandpa’s eightieth birthday celebration, the two women I had grown up with decided to settle which of them would get to marry me by drawing lots. However, when the time came, they drew a mute waitress into the game on a whim. After the waitress drew the losing slip, they started egging me on to marry her, all because they wanted to make the underprivileged student I was sponsoring happy. I watched the mute waitress stand surrounded by the crowd. She seemed overwhelmed and unsure of what to do, so I stepped forward to defend her. “Fine. I’ll marry her!”

“Lenny, I’m not telling you to hand over your engagement to Ava for nothing. I will make it up to you…” The familiar voice echoed in her ears, and the pain made Lena snap her eyes open. In a daze, she realized with a jolt that she had been sent back in time to exactly one month before her wedding to Henry. Her father, Chase Johnson’s earnest, pleading expression was identical to the one in her memories when he had forced her to give up her engagement. “Fine,” Lena said, her voice slightly hoarse as she abruptly cut him off. Chase could not hide the joy on his face. “Lenny, you’ve finally come to your senses!” A cold, detached look flickered in Lena’s eyes, and her lips curled into a faint, mocking smile. “I want one billion dollars–” “One billion? Have you lost your mind?” Before she could even finish her sentence, her father's face turned a deep, angry purple, the veins on his temples bulging out. Lena casually tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear, taking her time to finish the rest of her sentence. “Plus, a legally binding document cutting all ties with you. We will no longer be father and daughter.”

For the ninth time, my best friend was left at the altar. And for the ninth time, my fiance was dragged in to play the part of her pretend groom. I was holding two cups of coffee. Before I could knock on the dressing room's door, I heard my best friend purring at someone. "You're the best, Anton. You knew this was an act, but you played along anyway." My breath caught. Through the half-open door, I stole a glance inside. My fiance, who had always been cold and unreadable, was looking at my best friend as if she were the most precious thing in his world. "Getting left at the altar must've traumatized you. If I don't help you get over it, Emilia's going to be worried even if she marries me." My best friend tugged lightly at the hem of his shirt. "But this is going to affect your relationship with her." "Not like it's the first time. She's still with me. We're still a couple." My fiance took out a diamond ring and held it against my best friend's finger. "We've been together for ten years. She has no other choice, anyway." The summer heat was scorching, yet part of me felt frozen solid. Slowly, I took my phone out and dialed a certain number. "Hey, I'd like to show you what I look like in that wedding gown."

My daughter, Jane Lavoy, ranks first among her peers in the city for the SAT. Her graduation banquet is being held at the most expensive underwater restaurant in town. With less than an hour before the banquet begins, my wife, Mandy Schilller, who is in charge of coordinating the event, is nowhere to be found. My widowed brother-in-law, Zachary Grant, is also missing. As I walk toward the massive aquarium in the center of the dining hall, a barrage of floating comments suddenly appears before my eyes. "That annoying supporting male character is such an idiot! He definitely has no idea that his wife and widowed brother-in-law are hiding inside the aquarium right now." "Aww, there's just no holding back true love! They can't even wait until the banquet starts in an hour. The female lead, Mandy, has even put on a revealing mermaid costume, while Zachary is wearing a deep-V sea god outfit. Their mermaid romance role-play is just too adorable!" "It's a little dangerous, though. Mandy can't swim at all, and Zachary barely knows how. The aquarium is still half-filled with water, so he's holding her up underwater and giving her mouth-to-mouth! Stupid husband, hurry up and get lost! Stop getting in the way of their true love!" I freeze. I'm the stupid husband? And my wife and my widowed brother-in-law are sneaking and fooling around at my daughter's graduation banquet?

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.

My mother-in-law spreads lies about me having contracted an STD during my sister-in-law's wedding. When I hear this, I want to demand an explanation. However, my sister-in-law stops me and begs me to prioritize her happiness since it's her wedding. I hold myself back and wait until the reception is over. Later, my mother-in-law merely sweeps the matter under the rug and say she doesn't remember anything because she was drunk. However, the lies spread like wildfire. My neighbors scorn me, and my colleagues isolate me, treating me like a walking bacteria. I become dispirited from the constant mental distress and end up getting knocked by a car when I leave the house one day. I die from the accident. When I open my eyes again, I'm taken back to the day my mother-in-law lies about me having contracted an STD.

My boyfriend, Gabriel, was a romance junkie. For ten years, we chased the ultimate high, skydiving from thousands of feet, diving into the deepest oceans. We lived fast and hard. Until I got pregnant. Gabriel held me tight, eyes gleaming. "Let’s climb Mount Denali. I’ll propose to you at the top of the continent." I hesitated. The doctor said my chances of conceiving were near zero. This baby couldn't survive that kind of strain. Gabriel didn't argue. He just slipped the ring onto my finger and walked out. Seven days later, I saw his post on Instagram. It was a photo of him at the snowy peak, down on one knee before another woman. My best friend, Tiana, commented underneath, “I survived days in a cramped truck just to make your dream come true.” Gabriel replied, “You’re still the best. If I were with you back then, you would’ve climbed this peak with me, pregnant or not, right?” A tear dropped onto my stomach. I finally got it. He didn't care about me. All he cared about was the thrill. So, anyone could fill the role. Ten years of his wild romance was enough. It’s time for me to choose peace.