Melodramatic Romance Short Stories & Mistress Cheating Novels

To keep anyone from getting suspicious, I can only use disposable things whenever I go to my boyfriend Seth Larson's house. I wear disposable slippers and eat with disposable cutlery. Even when I stay the night, he gives me a one-time-use bedsheet. "If someone happens to see your things, I won't be able to explain it." He always reassures me, saying, "Once we make our relationship public, I'll get you some proper things." For three years, I wait. Yet every time I go to his house, I'm treated like a guest. Then, one day, he throws a birthday party at home for his assistant, Regina Skinner. The moment the door opens, Regina casually pulls a matching pair of designer slippers from the shoe cabinet and slips them on. Seth's friends follow right behind her, each taking a pair and using up all the remaining disposable slippers. That leaves me standing alone at the door. "Just come in barefoot. It's not cold in the summer," Seth says. He doesn't even look up, as if he's inviting a stranger inside. From across the room, I see a full set of dishes already laid out on the dining table, all printed with Regina's favorite cartoon characters. Suddenly, I realize something. Since everything is disposable, now that I've given this love that can never see the light of day a chance, it's time for me to throw it away.

My boyfriend always said he liked independent women. So, whether it was paying for dates, hotel rooms, or even birth control, he insisted we split every expense. He always said, "I hate women who think men should pay for everything. They expect guys to buy them gifts on special occasions and even feed them while they eat. They're adults. Do they really think they're princesses? You're so much better." I told him I only agreed to split the bills because I knew he loved me. Then one day, I saw a message on his computer after he forgot to lock the screen. A female coworker had thanked him. "Thanks for treating me to dinner and even slicing the steak for me. Next time, I'll buy the movie tickets." My boyfriend replied almost instantly. "How could I let a lady pay?" I kept scrolling through their chat history. On a rainy night, he had driven across half the city just to take her home. Whenever she had a nightmare, he would stand outside her apartment building and stay on the phone with her until she fell asleep. That was when I realized the truth. He didn't love independent women. He only loved the convenience that came with an independent woman. Just then, he walked in carrying my cat. "Your cat can't be a freeloader. The expenses should be split three ways between the three of us. Since the cat can't pay, you'll cover his share too. That means you pay two-thirds, and I'll pay one-third. Transfer me 800 dollars."

Since my bone cancer is already terminal, my doctor asks me if I wish to receive an amputation. My breath is lodged in my throat. After hesitating for a few moments, I end up texting my husband, Jordan Parker. "If I undergo the amputation surgery, I'll get to live for another year. Do you want me to take up the surgery?" One minute before I'm scheduled to undergo the surgery, my phone finally buzzes. "Best wishes." It's the same response as the one I've been receiving for every message I've sent him over the past three years. Of course, Jordan has responded by transferring me money and a note that says "best wishes". I put down my phone quietly. Ever since I've borrowed 500 thousand dollars from him on our wedding night, Jordan has already determined that I'm a gold digger, just like what his friends have been saying about me. That's why Jordan transfers me money when I go through a miscarriage. When I beg him to attend my dad's funeral, he gives me money as well. Half a year ago, I'm diagnosed with bone cancer. The thought about having to live my life with tubes inserted into various parts of my body while lying on my sick bed and waiting for Death to grace me with its presence in the near future triggers a mental breakdown immediately. With tears rolling down my cheeks, I send 97 long audio messages to Jordan. In return, I've received 97 money transfers. Now, I'm about to get amputated just so I can extend my life span, and here Jordan is, fusing beads with his childhood sweetheart, Camille Laurent. As I stare at Camille's romantic social media post and the barrage of comments that wish her and Jordan well, I pluck out the needle with a bitter smile on my face. There is once when Jordan has told me in a tone filled with hatred and resentment that his biggest regret is his decision to call off his engagement with Camille over a gold digger like me. Well, I hope that this time, he won't have any regrets anymore.

The day I turn 18, Jacob Pratt and I make a promise to watch the sunset at Crescent Lake together after we graduate from college. He says that when the sunset spreads across the lake, we'll have a bright future waiting for us too. Four years later, the day finally comes. But on the day we're supposed to leave, I suddenly come down with a high fever and have to stay at the hotel. That evening, I still can't bring myself to miss the sunset I've been waiting years to see. So after taking some medicine, I go to the lake alone. When I step onto the viewing platform, I see Jacob kissing my best friend, Susie Kinsella, under the sunset. His best friend, Andy Hall, is holding a camera, grinning as he records them. Susie leans against Jacob. "What if Hannah finds out about us?" Andy snorts. "You've hidden it from her for six months without getting caught. Why are you worried now?" "When are you going to tell her?" Susie looks at Jacob. With his eyes on the sunset, Jacob replies calmly, "I'll tell her when we get back. I promised to come with her to Crescent Lake, and I've kept my promise." He pulls Susie close. "From now on, you're the only one I'll share views like this with." Their laughter blends into the cheers from the crowd. No one notices me just a few steps away. I take off the necklace Jacob gave me, put it on the bench by the lake, and leave. At 18, I thought watching a sunset together was the perfect ending to love. At 22, I finally understand that even though the promise has been fulfilled, the person who promised to watch it with me has already fallen for someone else.

All of our old college friends consider Simon Horne and me the model couple. We've been dating for eight years now. He has driven across half the city just to bring me breakfast before, and he once skipped a business meeting for a deal worth ten million dollars just to be with me when I felt sick. Our old classmates always tease us by saying, "If you guys break up, none of us would ever believe in true love again." … During one of our regular meetups, everyone decides to play truth or dare. The one who's chosen has to show everyone what they've saved their partner as in their phone. Smiling, I flash my screen at everyone. Simon's profile picture bears the name "My Beloved Mr. Horne". The crowd hollers in response. Meanwhile, Natalie Adams, my best friend, hesitates and refuses to show us her phone. "You've been secretly married to your husband for seven years now! Why are you still so bashful? Come on. Show us! We wanna see that mysterious husband of yours who spends all his time abroad!" Natalie forces a weak smile and says, "He doesn't want to be revealed. How about giving me a different punishment?" Thinking that Natalie's just shy, I tease her for a bit and snatch her phone away when she's distracted. "It's been seven years! Now it's time for me to find out who you married—" My voice cuts off sharply. On the screen, displayed below the word "Hubby", was Simon's profile picture. Natalie's expression stiffens as she grabs her phone at once. "It's not what you think!" The next moment, her phone starts ringing. In her panic, she accidentally takes the call on speaker mode. Simon's familiar voice fills the room. "Hey, babe. Why aren't you home yet? I've picked Andy up from the babysitter, and he's been asking for you." A young boy's voice calls out after, "Daddy, when is Mommy coming home?" The laughter in the room dies out. I look down at the engagement ring on my finger. As it turns out, hidden behind an eight-year-long relationship that has been the envy of all others is the truth that has evaded me this whole time—that my fiancé has long since married my best friend and started a family with her.

Caitlin Wiggins' assistant, Bryan Shepard, complains about a client's bad breath, causing the company's project to be ruined. I do everything I can to help Bryan salvage the situation. But all I do is remind Bryan to watch his words, and yet he has the audacity to pin the blame on me. "Zane, your incapability is the reason why the client got mad at us. I used my family's resources to help you salvage the situation out of the kindness of my heart, you know! How could you accuse me like that?" Despite knowing the truth, Caitlin still chooses to side with Bryan. The punishment she issues me is a one-month suspension from my position. On top of that, I need to transfer the project to Bryan. Everyone in the meeting room turns to look at me. They think I'll definitely argue with Caitlin and fight for my rights. But I just hand over the rights of the project to Bryan obediently. Seeing as I've finally learned my lesson, Caitlin happily promises me that she'll marry me once the project turns out to be a huge success and that she gets promoted to the CEO's position. But what she doesn't know is that the client isn't Bryan's relative at all, but rather, my own uncle, Donovan Eaton. It all depends on me whether or not he wishes to continue working with Caitlin's company. In fact, I don't plan on helping Caitlin clean up her mess anymore. When the time comes, not only will she lose her promotion, but she'll also get kicked out of the company.

The pair of pink diamonds I've had my eye on for the longest time is finally auctioned off for a staggering price. Outside the auction hall, the young woman who won the bid is talking sweetly to someone on the phone. "Babe, you really don't have to come all the way here. Margot will be with me, so I'm good… Okay, fine. Love you!" I watch her with slight envy. Those pink diamonds are supposed to be my fifth-anniversary wedding gift. Before the auction, I've called my husband, Gabriel Hudson, and asked if he could come with me. But he said it was a trivial matter and that I could handle the bidding myself. The woman was on the phone earlier, and from what I could make out, they're planning to have dinner together to celebrate. My rideshare arrives. I'm about to leave when the woman suddenly shouts excitedly, "Margot, over here!" I follow her gaze. The person approaching is none other than my housekeeper, Margot Lawrence.

"Hi there, I'd like to emigrate." Christina stood at the counter and handed over the neatly prepared documents to the clerk on the other side of the glass. The clerk quickly stamped each page. The red ink spread like tiny ripples on still water. Then, without looking up, he pulled out another form and passed it back to her. "Ma'am, your paperwork will be processed in fifteen days." Christina nodded, turned on her heel, and headed for the exit. But before she could step outside, whispers trailed after her. "Did I see that right? Mrs. Waldorf is applying for emigration? Did she have a squabble with Mr. Waldorf?" "Even if they argued, would it go this far? Mr. Waldorf practically worships her. What could possibly make her leave so decisively?" "Exactly. Five years ago, their wedding was the event of the century. Even someone like me, who barely goes online, heard about it. And three years ago, after her car accident, the blood bank ran out of stock. Mr. Waldorf ignored everyone's objections and nearly drained himself to save her. Then, just last year, when she disappeared for an hour, he mobilized every media outlet worldwide to find her. Now she's leaving without a word—won't that drive him insane?" The murmurs swirled and lingered, but Christina only smiled faintly. Her expression was calm, but her eyes darkened with a bitterness that deepened with every step. Yes, she thought. Everyone knew just how much Lucien Waldorf loved her.

I could see everyone’s loyalty score above their head. Anyone whose score fell below 60% would leave. The day Mom cheated, her loyalty score dropped from 71% to 20%. The day my brother ran away from home, his score fell to 13%. So, whenever I fell in love after that, I always knew when to walk away. Then I met Natalie Farr. Her loyalty score for me stayed at 100%. I thought I’d found true love. But she broke her promise on our son’s third birthday. When she came home that night, the score above her head had plummeted from 100% to 88%. I knew it was time to start planning my exit again.

One day, after getting rear-ended outside my office, I, Maeve Dahlman, call out for help, but Austin Cooper, who is simply passing by with Carmen Holt, merely glances at me impatiently, annoyed that I've disrupted their lunch plans. Instead of helping, he has his assistant take me to his private club and lock me in a room, accusing me of being paranoid and dramatic. "I'll give you three days to calm down," he says before walking away and leaving me in isolation. Eventually, I escape and call the police. An ambulance rushes me to the hospital, where doctors diagnose me with a brain injury that requires immediate surgery. I keep calling Austin, only to realize that he has blocked my number. Then, I see Carmen's latest post online, gushing about a romantic luxurious dinner with him. After I'm discharged, I cancel the wedding, destroy all the invitations, and finally call my mother. "Mom," I say, "I've made up my mind. I'm ready to meet him."

After eight years of loving him in vain, my boyfriend, Gilbert Hughes, finally proposed. The wedding is set for a week from now. However, just as I'm happily preparing for it, I accidentally overhear a conversation between him and his friends. "I have to give it to Gilbert. The moment he proposes, his first love, Cheryl, gets restless." "But now that Cheryl's back, what are you going to do with your girlfriend?" Gilbert pauses for a moment, then replies casually, "It's fine. I'm not actually going to register my marriage with Jennifer. At worst, I'll just hold a wedding and play along." At the party the next day, he wraps his arm around me dotingly and socializes with our guests. Yet, the moment Cheryl Manning runs out in tears, he instantly lets go of me and chases after her in a panic. I follow quietly and watch them embrace tightly in the dark, kissing each other deeply. With my heart completely shattered, I turn away and dial a number. "Want to get married? I need a groom."

After I exposed Scott Brophy's emotional affair online, I was ordered to post an apology video every day for fifteen days straight. [I should not have made your explicit chat logs with Ms. Kelsey Rowe public, and I should not have forgotten to blur them out.] [I should not have secretly recorded your flirty voice messages with Kelsey when I knew about them, and I should not have spread those recordings everywhere.] To show my "sincerity," I even included photos of the two of them along with their real names. ... Scott was furious and humiliated. Every time I posted a video, we'd end up in a huge fight. Then my thirteenth video went up. This time, I tagged his assistant, Kelsey, and offered her a "formal" apology. He stormed off in anger, yet to my surprise, he didn't lash out at me. I naively believed he was finally ready to admit his mistake and come back to our family for good. The next day, I cooked his favorite dishes and brought them to his office. The moment I pushed the door open, I was hit by the sound of intimate gasps and panting. Scott had his little assistant pinned down as she tried to get away, a nasty grin on his face. "Since we're already under suspicion, we might as well go all the way. Otherwise, the two of us are getting a raw deal." Seeing my eyes turn red, he sneered, "Who's to blame for this? You drove me to it." I stood there, frozen. It wasn't just Scott who was dirty now. Our seven-year marriage had been tainted too.

I had always been terrible with directions. The moment I stepped outside my familiar neighborhood, I could lose my bearings completely. My fiancé insisted that after we got married, we'd move to the suburbs, so I needed to learn how to find my way around on my own. For six months, he repeatedly dropped me off in unfamiliar places and watched me break down in tears as I wandered in circles. Tonight, as a torrential storm battered the city and the old waterfront industrial district prepared to close for construction, he left me at its entrance with a map marked with incorrect exits. "Find your way to the parking garage, and I'll consider your training complete." I followed the street signs for more than ten minutes before realizing I'd wandered into an abandoned rail yard. Floodwater surged past my ankles, and my phone signal dropped to a single bar. I called Maurice Rivas in tears and begged him to tell me which way to go, but he only sneered. "After all this time, you still haven't learned? Stop using your terrible sense of direction to fish for sympathy." The call remained connected, and I heard my brother and my best friend laughing in the background. "Watching Josefin wander around in the storm finally got Carla to take her medicine," Hakon Tanner chuckled. Carla Hickman giggled. "This is so much fun! Can we let her wander around a little longer? I want to keep watching." Maurice answered gently, "Of course. She got you fired, so it's only fair that she learns her lesson." I looked up and saw warning lights flashing ahead. Beneath my feet, the drainage gates were slowly rising. That was when I finally understood. In the past six months, Maurice had never tried to teach me how to find my way. He had simply been using my helplessness to entertain someone else.

At the company's annual event, an oddly shaped necklace tumbled out of my wife's purse. It was engraved with her friend's initials, L.L. To protect his privacy, Camille Sinclair announced our secret seven-year marriage right there in front of everyone. She pulled me up on stage and gave the cameras a shy little smile. "Those letters are my husband's initials, Liam Locke. It's got nothing to do with anyone else." After the show ended, I let go of her hand and quietly begged, "I did what you wanted. Now can I get my mom's medication for this month?" That was when her best friend, Logan Lane, showed up carrying a box stuffed full of erectile dysfunction pills. He made sure the whole room heard him as he said, "Hey, bro, before you worry about your mother's illness, maybe worry about getting it up first. Camille's always complaining to me that you can't get the job done. She can't keep using toys to get by, can she?" The spotlight swung onto me, and thousands of people burst out laughing. By the next afternoon, I was the laughingstock of the entire industry. I was known as the husband who couldn't perform. Camille savored the sight of me falling apart. "Honey, you should learn some gratitude. Why don't you thank Logan?" I walked out under everyone's mocking stares. When I got back to the hospital, I found my dying mother hanging from the ceiling fan. Clutched in her hand was a suicide note, stained with blood. [Don't waste money treating me anymore. Don't beg her for anything ever again. Don't let her make you suffer another day.]

While I was nine months pregnant, the apple of my husband’s eye moved into our house. Whenever she saw me, she would make a sad face. My husband was sure that I was flaunting my pregnancy to make her angry. “Rachel is frail, and she can’t get pregnant, yet you’re walking around making her upset?! Do I seriously have to teach you a lesson?!” He ordered the bodyguards to lock me in the attic that had not been in use for a long time and told them not to give me food. I pleaded for mercy and told him that the ultrasound scan showed that the twin babies were too big. I told him that the doctor had claimed that I had to be hospitalized while I waited for my delivery. But he laughed as if he had heard the world’s greatest joke. When he spoke, his voice was as cold as ice. “You’re still three days away from your delivery date! Enough with the pitiful act! Repent while you’re in the attic! This is what you get for making Rachel upset!” The contractions hurt so much that I clenched my fists to the point that my nails broke, but no one unlocked the door to the attic. My piercing screams echoed in the attic for a long time until my whole body was soaked in blood, and one of my babies was stuck between my bloody legs. Three days later, my husband ate his breakfast that was not up to his taste and said, “Have Jane make breakfast for me, then have her apologize to Rachel with a gift. If she’s sincere enough, I’ll send her to the hospital to deliver the babies.” But no one dared go up to the attic because the blood that flowed down from it had already reached the second step of the stairs.

My husband's true love developed acute kidney failure, and I was the only matching donor. To save her life, he forced me to terminate my pregnancy at six months. Despite his gentle tone, he said the most heart-wrenching words, "Can't you be a little kinder? You're just losing a child, but she's losing her life." I resisted with every fiber of my being, but he threatened his own life to force my hand. On the operating table, both my child and I died. Meanwhile, his true love's transplant was a success, and she lived. Although the outcome was exactly what he wanted, he spiraled into madness upon hearing news of my death.

Mom dies of rage when she discovers that the bride at my wedding has become Nelly Johnson, Harvey Fisher's business partner. My wedding turns into Mom's funeral the moment she breathes her last breath. Despite that, Harvey insists that the ceremony continue as planned. He even orders me to put the wedding ring on Nelly's finger. "Hurry up and put it on! I'll explain everything to you tonight!" he snarls. I ignore him and leave the hotel with Mom's body in my arms. The wedding ends with a banging success at 8:00 pm. Nelly updated her social media with a post that's liked by tens of thousands of people. "I've finally married the light of my life! I'd like to thank a certain homewrecker for leaving after remembering her place." Harvey updates his social media with a similar post. "Those who are unworthy don't deserve to be loved." I like both their posts in the ice-cold morgue. I comment, "I wish you two a lifetime of happiness." Then, I head home with Mom's ashes. When I enter the house, I see Harvey holding Nelly tightly while making out with her.

Yvonne Sawyer had fallen for a sweet, innocent college guy. Everyone in Kingsport was waiting to see Jaxon Wilder get humiliated. Someone purposely asked, “Ms. Sawyer, you used to be so in love with Mr. Wilder that you nearly turned against your own family for him. How come you’re moving on to someone else?” Yvonne swirled the whiskey in her glass and gave a cold smile. “In love? He was nothing but my boy toy. I’ve had enough of him after all this time. Just looking at him annoys me.” Jaxon was on one knee as he helped a customer try on a new pair of shoes. Eventually, the rumors reached him. His fingers froze for a moment, and his jaw tightened slightly. But he kept smiling. The customer looked around to make sure they were alone before lowering his voice. “Officer Wilder, you’ve been undercover with Yvonne for two years, and you still haven’t found anything. She’s not in love with you anymore; why not walk away and return to the force?” The last trace of emotion in Jaxon’s eyes disappeared. He replied calmly, “There’s no rush. Her new relationship might be the breakthrough I need.”

It's been seven years since our graduation. One day, I drop a message in our five-member group chat. "I got laid off." Not a single reply comes in. It's as if no one in the group has even noticed my message. Ten minutes later, my best friend, Emily Piper, texts the group. "I got promoted! Let's celebrate at our usual spot tonight!" My boyfriend, Julian Dickson, and my two childhood friends, Francis Loomis and Henry Parsons, immediately pop up in the chat. "Congrats, Emmie!" "I'll book the restaurant." "Don't forget to get her favorite strawberry shortcake." I stare at the screen and can't help sending another message. "I just got laid off. Can you guys comfort me a little?" Still, nobody replies. Then, somebody asks, "There are no private rooms available at our usual spot. How about that place by the river?" Julian replies almost immediately, "Sounds good. I'll go get a gift ready." Emily sends a shy emoji. "It's just a small promotion. You guys really don't need to go all out like this." But the three of them are quick to reassure her. "How could we not make a big deal out of something like this?" "You've been working so hard all this time, so of course the five of us have to have a proper celebration!" I stare at that message, my tears blurring the screen. I find myself wondering just when I stopped being part of the group of five. Over the years, whenever Emily works late, they take turns bringing her food. When Emily gets her heart broken, they rush over that same night to drink with her. When Emily's birthday comes around, the three of them remember it better than their own. But when I get promoted, all they say is, "We'll treat you to a meal some other time." Before I leave the group chat, my ex-roommate from college, Rose Wilson, sends me a message. "My new company is looking for a project lead. Would you be interested in joining us?" I glance at the celebratory messages still flooding the group chat before replying, "I'd love to." It's time for the people who've been part of my life for over ten years to make their exit.

To help my husband, Julian Parker, pay off the debt from his stock-market losses, I agreed to sell one of my kidneys. But on the day of the surgery, our six-year-old daughter, Ella Parker, ran to the clinic all by herself and frantically called Julian for help. Julian sounded conflicted. "Mom's only having one kidney removed. It'll get Dad out of this mess for good. But if she doesn't do it, Dad's whole future is ruined." Ella kept begging him to stop the surgery, but Julian simply hung up. Then he hurried toward a private hospital suite nearby, his face filled with worry. Inside lay Claire Morgan, the woman he'd never gotten over. Her face was deathly pale. "Don't worry. We've got a kidney for you. You're going to be fine." He lowered his voice. "And don't feel guilty. I'm the one who chose to lie to her. She's still young. She can live just fine with one kidney." Claire's transplant was a success. Julian was in such a good mood afterward that, for once, he even suggested taking Ella and me on a trip, calling it a belated honeymoon. But he had no idea I was already dead. After my kidney was removed, I couldn't even afford $9.90 for the antibiotics I needed. The wound became infected, and I died. And Ella finally gave up on her father, too.