Plot Twists Romance Short Stories & Mistress Regret Novels

During our beach vacation, my wife, Carla Locke, lets her guy best friend, Alex Dugan, rub sunscreen all over her. "What have you been eating lately? Feels like you've gone up a cup size." The moment I see Alex's hand lingering on Carla's chest, the drink slips from my hand and shatters on the ground. Carla gets upset and tells me off for being so insecure. "We're just messing around. Why do you always overthink everything?" Alex shoots me a challenging look. "Don't be upset, Hubert. Carla and I are just friends. Sometimes, I wish I'd been born a woman. Then, people wouldn't keep misunderstanding our relationship." Carla leans into his embrace and shakes her head as she looks at me. "I wish you'd stop being so sensitive about this. Stop trying to ruin our friendship." However, Carla and Alex don't know that I'm from another world. After completing my mission in the previous world, the system rewards me with one wish. Since they insist they're just best friends, I'll be more than happy to grant his wish to become a woman.

On the night before we're supposed to register our marriage, our friends suggested playing a mystery box game. Each of the men puts a gift into a box, and the boxes are randomly handed out to the women. They all say this is the fairest way to play this game. When I open mine, there's only a single card inside that reads, "Thank you for participating." The room falls silent for a moment. Then, someone can't help snickering. My fiance, Hunter Sinclair, ruffles my hair. "Your luck is still as bad as ever." My childhood friend, Gabriel Unwin, lowers his voice and says, "Smile. Don't make people think you can't take a joke." At the same round, Tiffany West opens her box and finds the grand prize inside. The box contains a pink diamond necklace personally chosen by Hunter and a voucher for the island getaway I've talked about for three years. There is also a handwritten card from Gabriel. It says, "We'll always be here to protect you." I smile along with everyone else and slip my card back into the empty box. A raffle is all about luck, after all. Later, as I head to the restroom, I overhear the host checking the prize list in the lounge. He says, "Mr. Sinclair, everything was handed out correctly, right? The grand prize went to Ms. West, and the consolation prize went to Ms. Lawson." Hunter hums in confirmation. Gabriel laughs and adds, "That's right. She'll find a way to make herself feel better." Standing outside the door, I suddenly remember my 18th birthday. I waited in the rain for the midnight fireworks celebrating my coming of age. But Hunter and Gabriel held the only umbrella over Tiffany instead. Looking back at me, they said, "Natalie, your house is closer. Just run a couple of steps, and you're safe from the rain." That night, I went home soaked to the bone. I even made excuses for them, telling myself that it was just my bad luck. But tonight, I finally understand. The umbrella was never meant for me in the first place. So this time, I tear up that card and decide not to go through with our marriage registration. I'm done playing the game of luck they've rigged from the very beginning.

Seven years into my marriage to Sebastian, we had our first child. On Logan's first birthday party, one of the old friends Sebastian had known since prep school rattled a little velvet cup of dice in Logan's face and laughed. "Come on, Mrs. Forsythe, humor us. Let the birthday boy roll. A game. For old times' sake." Logan giggled and slapped at the cup. "If he rolls a six," the groomsman went on, grinning sideways at Sebastian, "Sebastian goes and picks Serena up from the airport tonight. Deal?" The moment I heard her name, my blood went cold. I turned to Sebastian. He'd been keeping in touch with her behind my back. All this time. He caught my eyes. He covered my shaking fingers with his and frowned slightly. "Don't be jealous over nothing. We're all friends. It's just a ride from the airport." And then, without quite meaning to, he nodded. Permission given. Logan laughed and opened his little fist. The dice clattered across the linen. A six. "That's fate!" someone whooped. "Serena's flight lands in two hours. You'll make it!" The room erupted. Glasses up. Backs slapped. Sebastian surrounded. His face softened and he turned and went for the door. Watching his back disappear through that door, I didn't do what I used to do. This seven-year bet of mine — I had lost it, completely.

"I've been assigned to work out of town for a year, Hunter, but we'll finally be able to buy a house once I return," Queenie Sorenson, my newlywed wife, says. She then moves her paralyzed grandfather, Oscar Sorenson, and her younger brother, Adam Sorenson, straight into our rental apartment after telling me that. She looks at me and says, "I'll have to trouble you to take care of Grandpa and Adam." She leaves in a hurry after that. I have taken care of Oscar's daily needs entirely on my own and handled dropping off and picking up Adam from kindergarten since that day, working around the clock. Queenie goes from frequently sending messages to check in on me to claiming she is too swamped with work to have any free time, rarely even calling. I finally make it through the year, but Queenie sends me a message, saying, "I'm still not done with my work, so I might need to stay for another year." It isn't until Adam's birthday that I find a message from Queenie on his smartwatch. "Joseph and I will pick you up at the usual spot on Friday to celebrate your birthday. You can just tell Hunter that you're sleeping over at a classmate's house Friday night and won't be home. You have to make sure he doesn't catch on." I realize then that Queenie's supposed out-of-town assignment has actually always been within the city.

Marcus's sixth patent had just gone through, and he said he was going to give me the grand proposal, the one that would close out four years of dating. The campus quad was covered in candles and roses. Marcus stood in the middle of it holding a bouquet, his eyes shining. He was halfway through his speech when his graduate student Claire threw herself into his arms. The plain silver band on her finger, identical to his, caught the candlelight. The crowd went still, then started murmuring. Every face turned toward them with the kind of look people get when they think they've stumbled onto a secret. And I was standing in the middle of that crowd. His girlfriend of four years, the one he had kept hidden the entire time, watching them hold each other. Watching him swallow the rest of his speech. Watching him hand my flowers to her. My phone buzzed in my hand. A message from S. "Sweetheart. Have you thought about it? We know we were wrong."

On our son's fifth birthday, I found the texts on Stanley's phone—from his best friend's widow: [Stanley, the kid misses his dad again. When are you coming over?] [Stanley, Archie liked a set of matching family outfits. I already ordered them. Let's wear them together this weekend.] [Stanley, Archie starts school tomorrow. I put your name down under "father." Hope that's okay?] And Stanley? He was all in: [Loretta's asleep. I'll head over now.] [My size is 3XL. Don't get the wrong one.] [It's fine. You two have always been my responsibility.] I stood there, frozen. Then I called him back in from the living room, where he'd been helping Luca open gifts. He didn't deny it. Just hugged me and started rambling. "Hallie's Howard's widow. I promised I'd look out for her and Archie. I know I messed up. It won't happen again." We'd been together ten years. Luca had just turned five. Ending a marriage over a few texts felt dramatic. So I let it slide. Believed him. We even went out to celebrate Luca's birthday. Then his phone lit up on the table: [Stanley, the kid's crying for his dad before bed. I can't calm him down.] Stanley shoved his chair back and walked out—no hesitation. I looked at Luca. He was startled at the noise. And just like that, divorce didn't feel so dramatic anymore.

In the third year since my husband, Axel Kramer, starts working as a rideshare driver, we finally manage to buy a home of our own. On the day we move in, he suddenly says to me, "Some friends want to come over for dinner tonight. I already said yes." I'm someone who values boundaries and doesn't like outsiders coming into my home. Even when we host relatives, we take them out to restaurants. "Can't we just go to a restaurant?" I ask. He looks helpless as he replies, "I already suggested that, but Lindsay said it would be more fun if we hang out at home. She said we should liven it up in our new home. And since everyone knows I'm a good cook, she wants to try my cooking too." One corner of my eye twitches with displeasure. Lindsay Brun is the female driver he's mentioned the most over these three years. She's also the only woman in their rideshare drivers' group chat.

Five years after my household was sentenced to death, in my fifth year as a slave at the military camp, someone suddenly brought me away and said I had to marry the princess. Before I could understand what was happening, I ended up outside my family's mansion. It was supposed to be destroyed. I looked at my father and older sister, who were supposed to be long dead. My sister helped me down from the carriage as though nothing was wrong. “It’s been five years, Michael. Have you repented for your mistakes? “It’s all because you insisted on marrying the princess and made Ethan attempt suicide. If you hadn’t been so stubborn, we wouldn’t have punished you like that. “Now the princess is pregnant with Ethan’s child, and she’s graciously allowed you to marry her. What do you say?” It was only then that I realized the death sentence was a lie. They faked their deaths and threw me into a military camp for five years of torture, all to punish me for “mistreating” my younger brother. I was so shaken that I coughed up blood. My father waved me off with a frown. “We just sent you to the army to teach you a lesson. There’s no need to put on such an act. “The princess still misses you, but she’s bearing Ethan’s child. You have to respect Ethan’s decisions and put him first, you hear? “Come on, let’s get ready for your wedding.” Looking at his waving hand, I suddenly remembered my “masters” from the military camp. My knees buckled, and I slapped myself instinctively. “I’m sorry, Master, it’s all my fault! “Please give me three days! I’ll die after three days!”

After waiting 17 long years, Huntley Gray finally offers to meet my mother to discuss us getting married. Mom and I sit in a private room in the restaurant, waiting for three hours, but he never shows up. As we leave Room 301, I come face-to-face with him at the door to Room 302. His hand is still wrapped around the waist of a woman holding a freshly minted marriage certificate. I know her. Her name is Quinn Pallard, also known as the delinquent who bullied me all through high school. A crowd surrounds them, laughing and teasing. "So you angst-filled couple finally got your happily ever after!" The woman who said that and is carrying Quinn's purse is my childhood best friend—the same friend who took a slap to the face in high school just to protect me. "Getting 14,000 dollars in wedding gifts just because you two have been dating for 14 long years? Man, you really know how to get the most bang for your buck!" The one patting Huntley on the shoulder and teasing him is his childhood best friend—the same man who swore to me that if Huntley married anyone other than me, none of the guys in their friend circle would show up. "Getting a marriage license isn't enough. You still need an actual wedding. When the time comes, we'll just keep it from Ainsley like we've been doing." The ones giving him this solemn reminder are Huntley's parents—the same parents who called me two days ago, urging me to get Huntley to walk down the aisle with me. My vision blurs. Their figures seem to overlap, then pull apart again. It turns out that out of the 17 years I've spent waiting for Huntley, he's spent 14 of them loving my high school bully. And everyone knows. I'm the only one who's been kept in the dark, like a complete and utter fool.

Seven years after my death, an engagement invitation from my ex-girlfriend arrives at my house. Back then, I had broken up with her in my lowest, most desperate days and married someone else. Now, she has reinvented herself as a rising powerhouse worth hundreds of billions, driven by revenge and eager to see me regret everything and beg for mercy. Unfortunately for her, I am not the one who shows up. She looks around in open contempt, convinced my absence means guilt, shame, and fear. When I finally appear, all she sees is an urn.

I worked super hard during Cyber Monday and pulled in 20 million dollars in sales, only for my wife, Chelsea Abbott, to credit it to her childhood sweetheart, who had just returned from studying overseas. I was so furious that I confronted her, but she clung to Donald Dixon's arm and said righteously, "Donald just got back, and he doesn't have a solid footing yet. What's wrong with my helping him establish some authority? Are you really going to argue with me over this?" I swallowed it. But at the year-end conference, Donald actually pointed right at my face in front of the entire company and yelled, "I produced these results myself. You're just a deadweight living off your wife. You don't even deserve to be here! Keeping parasites like you in the company is a total waste of resources!" My performance was used to build his reputation, and this was how he repaid me? I turned to look at Chelsea, but she didn't even spare me a glance. Instead, she announced to everyone, "Donald's right. The industry's moving fast, and Will really can't keep up anymore. Starting tomorrow, all of his responsibilities will be taken over by Donald!" Faced with everyone's eager, gossipy stares, I didn't make a scene. Last night, the industry leader the company had been desperate to flatter just sent me an offer letter. Since Chelsea was determined to fight side by side with her childhood sweetheart, this was where we would end.

Everyone in my fiancée Marianne Kirby's phone has a contact name. My best friend, Jeremiah Cochran, is saved as Jerry, whereas I'm just a string of numbers with no name attached. I've asked Marianne why before, but she simply reaches up to straighten my collar. "I know your number by heart, so why would I need to save your name? I'm marrying you, after all—of course I've got to get on your best friend's good side early." Jeremiah even reassures me, "Marianne just loves you so much that she extends that love to the people around you, so I'm only benefiting from being your best friend." I tell myself that Marianne doesn't need to save my name because it's already etched into her heart. But that belief starts to crack when I'm burning up with a fever of 104 degrees, and Marianne replies to my WhatsApp messages with just two sentences. "Drink plenty of warm water. I'm working late tonight." Yet, I run into her at the pharmacy across from the hospital. She's anxiously comparing medication ingredients for Jeremiah, who's having an allergic reaction. Standing outside the glass window, I shiver with cold as I call her. The phone in her pocket lights up, displaying the string of numbers she claims to know by heart. Without a moment's hesitation, she declines the call, then smiles at Jeremiah. "It's probably another telemarketer. Just ignore it." As I listen to the dial tone on the other end, I delete the chat I've kept pinned for years. After all, I've never had a name in Marianne's world. No one will notice if a number without a contact name simply disappears.

After Katherine Winston delays our wedding for the tenth time, I decide to set her free. At the celebratory party thrown by my friend for his second newborn, I arrive at the venue to congratulate him in advance. When my best friend invites me to a camping trip, I walk away as soon as Katherine shows up. When my company decides to dispatch me to Katherine's company to follow up with the project we're working on, I tender my resignation without hesitation. Even when Katherine's parents visit me in hopes of convincing me to forgive Katherine. But I refuse to leave my residence at all. I take the liberty to delete all the photos with Katherine in them. Then, I block her number and on all social media platforms. Finally, I delete the social media account that has been recording our daily lives as a couple. Just like that, I cut myself off everything related to Katherine. We've known each other for 25 years, and we've been in a relationship for 5 of them. I've always thought that we're each other's only love in life. That is, until the wedding I've prepared for gets delayed for the tenth time. It's then realization finally dawns on me. I should love myself first before loving someone else.

When I find out about that woman's existence, it turns out that they've been dating for a very long time. Simon Jensen protects her very well. Even though he's already attended banquets with her and has introduced her to all of his friends, I still have yet to see any of her photos. Heck, I don't even know her name. If it weren't for the fact that Simon was unable to resist that woman's coquettish pleading and brought her to the fashion show press conference as a brand investor, I'd probably remain in the dark forever. At this moment, I stare at Simon from far away, who's currently gazing at his lover standing on the runway. There's a hint of a gentle smile in his eyes. The camera flashes keep clicking. One of the reporters can't resist asking, "Mr. Jensen, are you a fan of Angela Stewart as well?" Simon never averts his gaze from Angela. He replies, "No. She's the love of my life." So, it turns out the cold and aloof Simon is capable of doting on a young woman to this degree. I spin the dull wedding ring around my ring finger subconsciously. That's when I realize how meaningless this marriage actually is.

Although Kate Hopkins and I have been in a relationship for ten years, our love for each other has never faded away in the slightest. In the past, she has declared on a podium that she will always stay devoted to me. Naturally, I've always thought that she'll be my soulmate in this lifetime. Three years ago, Kate was transferred to a research station in Althoria. When I head over to visit her, I witness her wrapping a naked young man up with a blanket. After choosing to believe Kate's side of the story, I return to the country and do everything I can to take care of her mother while waiting for her return. Little do I know that this is just a huge lie. Just like that, my ten-year relationship has gone down the drain. Ten years seem like a short time—as short as a cicada's lifespan while it chirps through the summer. The polar night might seem like a long time—so long that a passionate relationship carved into my flesh and bones can be erased. But no matter how long the night is, there will always be an end to it. When dawnlight shines onto my world, it still remains intact even at Kate's absence.

Two days before my wedding, I was sorting through some old belongings when I suddenly remembered the time capsules Ethan Shaw and I buried ten years ago. His expression froze the moment he heard it. He tried to talk me out of going. “It’s been so long. Someone must’ve dug them up already.” I didn’t think much of it and went back to our old school on my own. But at the spot where we buried it, I unearthed five metal boxes of different sizes. Two of them were the ones Ethan and I buried a decade ago, now rusted all over. The other three didn’t belong there—one was just as rusty, while the remaining two looked brand-new. The old box had Rose Quinn’s name carved on it. On top were the words: “My secret crush was a war of myself. Ethan, I wish you happiness.” I remembered her then—an unremarkable girl who used to sit behind us. And the two new boxes were engraved with the names Ethan Shaw and Rose Quinn. The date marked on them was today. On Ethan’s box, it read: “My greatest regret in life is that I can’t give you a wedding.” On Rose’s box, it read: “My greatest regret in life is that I can’t openly wish you a happy wedding day.”

At my best friend Grady's wedding, the bouquet landed right in my arms. Grady slid over, eyebrows bouncing. "Do you know how hard I worked to get Amanda as a bridesmaid? Dude, you've been into her for seven years. Go confess already." I froze, bouquet in hand. The thing Grady didn't know? Amanda Sheffield and I had been secretly dating for a year. I'd thought my years of pining had finally paid off. Then I told her we were done unless she bailed on the date her family set up. She just smiled, totally unbothered. "Ryder Reed, you've loved me for seven years. You really think you can walk away?" The memory cut out. Then Amanda came over, yanked the bouquet from my hands, and handed it to the guy beside her like it was nothing. She took one look at my face and lifted a brow, smug as hell. "See? You can't leave me."

On the day, my husband, Eugene Doyle, receives the offer to further his studies in the city, he serves me divorce papers instead. I, Maria Johnston, am eight months pregnant with his child. He tries to console me. "Maria, ever since my elder brother, Edgar, passed away, Janice has had nobody taking care of her. She can't survive on her own. "I'll marry her for the time being, just on paper, until she manages to find her footing in the city. After that, I'll come back and marry you again." Everyone assumes that I will patiently and obediently wait for Eugene to return because of my pregnancy. However, I tear up his written oath to me and terminate the pregnancy that same day. Then, with the offer letter for the National Archeology Certification in my hands, I leave our little village and disappear from Eugene's life. Five years later, I become a successful archeologist and return to the same village for a survey. My current husband, Rupert Kingston, can't come at the same time as me due to an emergency meeting, but he has informed the villagers to welcome me with open arms ahead of time. To my surprise, I meet my ex-husband instead. He says, "I know that you lost your baby at eight months. There's no need to be ashamed about it. It's about time you came back after running away from home all those years ago. "Janice is about to give birth. We need you to be her nanny."

For eight years, Daniel Foster throws me a wedding every year, but never makes our marriage legal. He claims he's afraid of marriage, terrified that we'll end up like his parents. So instead of pressuring him, I give him eight whole years to work through his fears and prepare himself for the commitment. At our eighth wedding, I notice that Daniel is wearing the wrong suit. At first glance, it looks exactly like the suit we've chosen for the ceremony. The only difference is the name embroidered on the collar. It isn't mine. It belongs to my best friend, Avery Morgan. I'm about to confront Daniel and demand an explanation when my older sister, Vivian Cooper, grabs my arm and stops me. "Elle, it's been eight years. What good will confronting him do now? It's better to pretend you haven't noticed." I stare at her in disbelief. "Viv, are you saying you've known all along?" Vivian stiffens slightly before glancing at the family members and friends gathered around us. "It's not just me. Everyone knows." I stand frozen, unable to say a word. It takes me a long moment to find my voice again. "Then why? Why has Daniel kept holding wedding ceremonies with me for the past eight years?" Vivian's voice softens, and sympathy fills her eyes as she explains, "Having a wedding every year was Avery's idea. Apart from the wedding she and Daniel had when they legally married, every wedding they've had since has been matched by one for you." So the marriage I've spent eight years waiting for has already been given to someone else, and I'm the last person to find out.

Brandon Hayes had too many enemies, so he asked Hannah Foster to be his public girlfriend until every last one of them was dealt with. "Eleanor, I know this isn't fair to you. I promise we'll get married after I've taken care of all my enemies." I looked at Hannah with concern. "But won't this put her in danger?" Brandon's expression darkened. "I saved her life. She owes me this." The day Brandon proposed to me, I was just about to slip the ring onto my finger when a bullet came flying toward me. Hannah threw herself in front of me. The bullet tore into her abdomen, and blood immediately poured from the wound. The man who had been looking at me with such tenderness shoved me aside without a second glance. He scooped Hannah into his arms and rushed her to the hospital. I looked down at the blood running between my legs. I gritted my teeth and endured the pain as I hailed a cab. "Take me to the hospital."