Melodramatic Romance Short Stories & Mistress Marriage Novels

I begged my husband 304 times before he finally agreed to spend a birthday with our seriously ill daughter. We waited until the cake on the table melted and the warmth slowly left our daughter’s body, but he never showed up. Then, his first love shared a photo on social media. In it, my husband had one arm around her and the other holding her child. Behind them stood a towering birthday cake display. Our daughter had waited five years for a birthday cake that never came. Yet another child received it without even trying. The caption read: The promised tiered cake is finally here! I quietly liked the post. Soon after, he texted me, demanding an explanation. [How many times do I have to tell you? Miranda’s daughter is dealing with depression, and I need to be there for her. Don’t call me unless it’s urgent.] I looked down at the child in my arms, whose body had gone completely cold. “Alright,” I said softly. “I won’t do that again.”

There's a saying that circulates within our circle. "Eric Tuttle catches adultery twice as fast as Joanna Lockwood commits it." Whenever anyone's wife cheats, I get dragged out as the undisputed role model. Behind my back, though, they joke, "Eric is nothing but a jealous brute. No husband from a wealthy family has ever fallen this low." But what shocks the entire elite circle this time is that when the paparazzi shove Joanna's intimate photos from her affair right in my face, I just laugh it off. Even Joanna herself pulls up her pants and rushes back at the first moment. She looks at me with confusion, but I just shrug and say, "I'm tired." Joanna's tears turn to laughter. Then, she touches up her makeup smugly. "Eric, are you admitting defeat this time?" she asks. My gaze falls on the scattered explicit photos, then I reply calmly, "Yeah." Because this time, she's fallen for my bone marrow donor, Marcus Kern.

I was born naturally dazed, living every day as if I were tipsy. So when Adrian Blake forced his way into my life, I thought he was only playing with me. Every time I failed to run away and he caught me again, I gave him a thumbs-up. "Your hide-and-seek skills are improving fast. I only hid for half an hour and you already found me." And just like that, I muddled through three years of a game where I ran and he chased. Until today. I found out I was pregnant after nausea and vomiting, and I took the report home, wanting to tell Adrian Blake, whom doctors had diagnosed as infertile. But then he got into a car accident and lost his memory. His childhood sweetheart cried as she blamed me. "If he had not rushed back to celebrate your birthday, none of this would have happened." "He has forgotten you completely. I am begging you. Stop clinging to him, okay?" I slowly walked away for a while, my lower belly aching faintly. I had the feeling I had forgotten something. Forget it. I would think of it when I remembered.

A day before my wedding, my fiancee, Claudia George, was suddenly required to go on a business trip to North City. “There are some issues with the project. The issue should be settled by tomorrow morning, and I’ll return immediately. I won’t delay the wedding at all.” She was afraid that I would overthink the situation, so she video-called me right after she landed. In the video call, she was wearing the down jacket that I had bought her. Behind her was the white wall of the hotel. It was snowing heavily outside the window. She showed me the entire room. There was one pillow on the bed, and one set of toiletries on the sink. She even opened the closet for me to have a look. I nodded with a smile and urged her to go to sleep early. However, after she hung up, my tears trickled down my cheeks uncontrollably. It was a super El Nino year. No snow was supposed to fall upon North City.

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.

At the company's tenth-anniversary celebration, my wife's male secretary was in charge of the raffle. When it was time for the grand prize, he somehow drew his own name. My wife asked him what he wanted, and he pointed at the watch on my wrist. I flatly refused. How could a personal belonging be used as a prize? But the male secretary turned to my wife and whined, "That watch is a limited edition. There's only one in the world." My wife signaled for me to give the watch to him. I argued my case, but my wife slapped me across the face instead. "It's just a watch. Don't ruin the mood of the anniversary celebration." I smiled, took off the watch, and handed it to her secretary. It was a wedding gift from her that I had treasured for years, but now, I had decided to throw away both the watch and her.

Jennifer Koch, my childhood friend, has spent years helping me "test" my boyfriend, Tyler Sloan, to see if he's someone worth being with. When she sends a message in our group chat saying that she wants a beach vacation, her boyfriend immediately books first-class flight tickets for the two of them. Meanwhile, I wait up, checking my phone constantly. The clock strikes midnight before Tyler's reply comes in. "I'm busy." On Valentine's Day, Jennifer is showered with gifts and flowers. What I get is a lecture from Tyler. "Can you not be so childish? Who cares about these frivolous things?" Every time, I hold back my tears and try to excuse his behavior for him. "He's just not a very sentimental guy. He doesn't know how to be romantic, but I know he cares about me." Once we get engaged, however, it seems as though Tyler has learned to be romantic at last. He has decided to hold a grand wedding ceremony for us. Yet, every time he meets with the wedding planners, he gets Jennifer to go with him. He even lets her try on the wedding gown in my place and walk down the aisle at the dress rehearsal for me. "I just want to keep it a surprise for you," he tells me. During my bachelorette party, a fire breaks out at the hotel because of some faulty wiring. Jennifer pulls me into a corner to hide. "Cassie, if Tyler doesn't save you first this time, you should dump him at the altar, okay?" The next second, Tyler kicks down the door, his eyes red. Just as I'm about to stretch my hand out, he scoops Jennifer up in his arms and rushes for the door, saying to me, "You can escape by yourself. Jenny can't stand being in pain!" I freeze up. The smoke swirls around me. I watch as the emergency responders call out, "The bride's safe! Where's her family?" Tyler grips Jennifer's hand tightly and chokes out, "I'm here. I'm her husband." As I stare at their embraced figures, it finally hits me. Tyler does have it in him to be sentimental and romantic after all. I'm just not the woman he shows that side of himself to.

My fiancée, Gina Winston, never liked to be troubled. In the five years we had been together, I was the one who decided where we should go on all our dates. All she did was tell the driver where to take her. For every birthday and anniversary, Gina would always get me the same thing, which was a blue and black striped tie. She was the same way when it came to planning our wedding. Every time I wanted to discuss the guest list with her, she would say it was too much trouble and refused to get into the details. Even when we were taking our wedding photos, she was not happy that it took too long, and she picked the basic package. When I came to the wedding planner's office alone to confirm the wedding plans, the planner chatted with me while showing me the design sketches. "Speaking of which, we took in a client not long ago who was very particular about the wedding details. She tested more than 20 types of dessert because her husband doesn't enjoy anything sweet, and she insisted on making sure every piece of dessert had the correct sugar level." The planner smiled as she continued, "Coincidentally, she shares the same surname as your fiancée. She's also a Winston and doesn't like roses, just like your fiancée." I was about to sign the contract when I suddenly stopped. The planner did not notice anything strange about me, and smiled as she looked at the door. "Look. Ms. Winston is here again. This time, she wants to add outdoor fireworks to the program because she's worried that the groom will find it too boring indoors." I looked toward the door and saw Gina entering the office. Shock and disappointment exploded inside of me. Gina had never been afraid of trouble. She was just not willing to be troubled by me. Since her heart was not with me, maybe it was time to end our relationship.

When Wendy Chance's father, Josiah, was rendered speechless, I was the only one he wanted to go to speech therapy with. Every time Wendy and I wanted to go out, Josiah would clutch the corner of my shirt. Once again, Wendy would stuff an unused train ticket in my hand and pat my shoulder apologetically. "Treat my dad well, and I'll make it up to you on another trip. Evan can accompany me on this business trip instead. Don’t overthink this." Evan Striker was the secretary she claimed knew his place. I had collected 27 unused tickets over the past three years. They were from unrealized trips to the mountains, historical towns, and the beach. Every ticket turned into a post on Evan's social media accounts. I thought Wendy was just busy with work until one day, I overheard Josiah speaking clearly in the study as I brought him some water. "Did Evan have fun this time?" Wendy laughed. "You're a pretty good actor, Dad. Joel doesn't suspect a thing." Through the crack of the door, I could see Wendy and my best friend, Eli Conway, sitting at the table. Eli was holding up his phone to remind everyone about something. "Joel is supposed to accompany Wendy to the celebration party tomorrow. Remember to follow the plan and be sick tomorrow, Mr. Chance. That should stop him from attending the party and embarrassing Wendy." Everyone laughed, agreeing with the plan, and Josiah even started practising vague hand gestures. I lowered my head to look at the latest ticket in my hand. I had been duped, doing my best to make these schemers’ web of lies come to life. The ticket fell from my hand, and I no longer wanted to wait for Wendy to finally keep her promises.

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."

My husband was out cold. Middle of the night, his phone lit up on the nightstand—chat app blowing up. I leaned over and grabbed it, quiet as a breath. Messages from someone named 'Viv.' Her last one? [Goodnight, Matt.] I had my fingerprint saved, but I'd never used it. Six years of trust. Six years of believing he was loyal—maybe too awkward to cheat. But something felt off. So I tapped in. And just like that, I opened Pandora's box. My heart? Tanked.

When she was finally certain that Luke Jefferson would never fall in love with her, Raine Stone asked for a divorce and left with Zach Jefferson, their son. After the divorce, the usually aloof Luke abruptly started trying to win her heart back. He was no longer as cold as before, and he started to beg for her forgiveness by blocking Raine’s path. During his breaks, he spent time with Zach and prepared all sorts of surprise gifts. He even protected them and shielded them when a robber tried to stab them, leading to him spending some time close to death’s door. As Zach begged for them to reunite, Raine finally felt her determination crumble and agreed to get remarried with Luke. But right after getting remarried, she and Zach were on their way back home when they got into an accident. They went through more than ten hours of treatment, and Raine came out of it with a kidney gone, while Zach lost his vision. On the second day of the accident, when Raine and her son were taken past the doctor’s office, she heard a shocking secret.

One week before our wedding, my fiance, Ashton Fraser, suddenly cancels the world-tour wedding trip that I've been preparing for the past two years. Thinking that he's misclicked something, I turn on my tablet and am about to ask the wedding planner what's going on when I see the WhatsApp on the tablet syncing with the version Ashton has on his phone. That's when numerous text messages from one of Ashton's friends begin popping up. "Wait, did you seriously cancel your fiancee's world-tour wedding trip just because you wanted to fulfill Mariah's wish? You even entrusted the authority to organize your wedding to Mariah? "I'm not exaggerating when I say this wedding is practically your fiancee's life's work! Everyone knows that she went so far as to force herself to continue planning the wedding even when she relapsed from her cardiac arrest! Aren't you worried that she might not marry you at all once she finds out about this?" With a trembling finger, I tap on the notification. Ashton replies to the friend nonchalantly, "Laura has already given her life to me; why would she care about how her wedding goes? Mariah wants to try her hand at organizing a wedding. This is her dream. "Don't worry. Laura cares more about this wedding than anyone else in this world. She's even willing to cut half of her heart just for me. Clearly, she loves me to the moon and back. Even if she finds out about this matter, she will never have the heart to leave me. At most, she'll only throw a tantrum that lasts for a few days. I'll make sure to coax her properly when the time comes." I take a deep breath to suppress the irregular rate at which my heart is beating at the moment. Then, I tell another man, "Are you interested in getting married? I still need a groom for my wedding."

After Lyra Beaumont, a financially disadvantaged student I sponsored, was sexually harassed at work, she came close to taking her own life. I paid to open a pottery shop for her so she could run her own business. When Forrest Croft found out, he spoke with open disdain. "There's no smoke without fire. Why do you insist on bringing someone like her into our lives? Don't blame anyone else if you end up getting hurt." I stared at him in disbelief. "Forrest, how can you say something so cruel?" After that argument, I left the country in a huff and spent two months abroad. There were 58 ceramic mugs in the display cabinet in our living room. During a video call, Forrest proudly announced what he had been up to. "Honey, I've been stopping by her shop every day to support her business. You must be happy now, right?" Seeing the tenderness in his eyes, I suddenly felt a little guilty for being so stubborn. I changed my ticket to the earliest available flight and rushed home, hoping to surprise him. But the moment I opened the front door, I heard wet, squelching sounds coming from our bedroom. "Forrest, you take a mug every time we're done. My hands are getting sore." "That's barely anything. I'm going to fill that cabinet." I stared at the 58 mugs in the cabinet, and suddenly the whole thing seemed absurd. Two months. Sixty days. Fifty-eight times. He had not just been supporting her business. He had been sleeping with her in my bed too.

Today was the seventh anniversary of the plane crash that took my twin sister, Chloe. My husband, Julian, checked the watch on his wrist and urged me on. “I’ve only blocked off ten minutes for this visit. Hurry up and lay the flowers.” He was a pathological stickler for time, meticulously managing every minute and second of his life. Shopping was sixty minutes, intimacy was fifteen minutes, and dinner was ten minutes… As he walked back to the car to grab an umbrella, his phone slipped from his hand, hit the ground, and lit up with a cloud calendar notification. It was his hidden master schedule for family. I stole a glance at it, and my blood instantly ran cold. The entry for me read, “Spend two hours.” And the very next entry ten minutes later read, “Cemetery visit ends. Head to the Southside residence immediately to pick up Chloe and our son for his toddler’s gym class.” I stared at my sister’s photo on the tombstone, finding it all ironic. So the past seven years, spent racing against the clock, were nothing more than an extreme time-management strategy Julian had devised for her while she was pretending to be dead. Julian walked back over under the umbrella. He picked up his phone and frowned. “Riley, your ten minutes are up. Stop dawdling.” Wiping the rainwater from the tombstone, I let out a liberated smile and said, “I'm not dawdling. It just struck me that Chloe must be having a wonderful time in hell. With the Devil and his demons keeping her company, I’m sure she’d never want to leave.”

On my first day at a new hospital, I treated a pregnant woman in critical condition. With the nurses’ help, we stabilized her condition and safely delivered her baby. As soon as she could speak, she reached for her phone. Her voice was filled with pride as she said, “Honey, I gave birth to a son!” The voice that came through the speaker made me freeze. “Baby, you’re amazing!” Those few words were enough to send me spiraling into despair. I had known that voice for ten years. It belonged to my husband, Liam Stretton.

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.

The biggest gossip in Nashford lately is that Silas Fitzroy, the town fool, is trying to divorce his wife again. When he takes Nadine Larson to court once more, she once again fails to show up. He pulls his phone, takes a deep breath, and dials her number with practised ease, never expecting her to actually answer this time. "Where are you?" "What are you trying to pull now?" Nadine demands, her voice cold. "Same trick again. How many more times are you going to make a fool of yourself?" Silas tightens his grip on the phone. "So you know I did it again. Then what about the 39 times I called you a month ago? Why didn't you answer a single one of them?"

When the call came that her mother had suffered a massive brain hemorrhage and was in a coma, Clara Gabriel's mind went blank. She bolted from her desk. "Where do you think you're going?" The cold voice of her fiance, Julian Vance, cut through the office. "You're still on the clock." As Clara turned to the man she was supposed to marry, her eyes were filled with tears. "My mother is in the ICU." "Going there won't change the outcome," Julian said, his expression completely unreadable. "You are the future first lady of this company. Are you really going to set an example of abandoning your post?" Clara's chest tightened. "This is an emergency. It's only ten minutes before my shift ends…" "Clara," Julian interrupted, his tone darkening. "Sit back down." He paused and adjusted his cuffs. "Rush-hour traffic is backed up for miles. You won't find a cab anyway. Wait ten minutes, and I'll drive you." Rush hour was brutal. It was only ten minutes... Clara walked back to her desk in a daze. She kept telling herself that Julian was just being pragmatic. He was right. But despite how she kept staring at her screen, the burn behind her eyes refused to go away. ---

Six weeks before their wedding, Marielle Rousseau tells Dorian Halberg she wants to have another man's baby. When he refuses, she brings it up day after day. Fifteen days before the ceremony, Dorian finds her pregnancy report. She's already nearly a month along. She never intended to wait for his consent. In that moment, the love he's carried for years begins to disappear. Dorian cancels the wedding, destroys the keepsakes of their relationship, and on what should have been his wedding day, walks into a high-security research facility that cuts him off from the outside world. From then on, Marielle has no place in his life.