Plot Twists Romance Short Stories & Novels

Jaxon Slater and I had lived as a married couple for five years, but we had never made it official. Every time we went to City Hall to sign the papers, Lisa Clark, Jaxon's coworker, found a way to derail it. The first time, she did not know how to format a document, so he stayed behind at the office to help her. The second time, she came down with a fever. He hung up on me mid-call and left without a backward glance. The third time, she had a performance review. He got so caught up in it that he left me at City Hall for an entire day. It happened fifteen times. Every attempt to make our marriage legal was interrupted by something involving her. I saw the pattern for what it was. A man like that was not worth keeping. Thus, I left for good. And the moment I did, he came after me as if nothing else in his life mattered.

On my birthday, My wife told me there was an emergency at the hospital and she couldn’t come home. She sent me five hundred dollars with a note: Happy birthday. Love you. Ten minutes later, her young resident, Evan Hayes, posted a screenshot of a transfer. Fifty thousand dollars. Congratulations on becoming an attending. I’ll be there for every milestone from now on. Seven years ago, Claire lost both her parents and was buried in debt. I gave up a senior architect position overseas, stayed by her side, and helped her through medical school, residency, and every exam that stood between her and the life she wanted. The first time she put on a white coat, she held me and said, “Adrian, I wouldn’t be here without you.” Years later, she gave someone else the time, patience, and care she once gave me. That night, I didn’t argue. I accepted the London offer I had turned down three times, took off the ring I had worn for seven years, and left. Claire wasn’t worried. “He loves me too much. He’ll come back.” A month later, she called in tears. “I’ll give you everything. Just come home.” She still didn’t understand. I never left because Evan got more. I left because the woman I spent seven years lifting up had finally made my love feel worthless.

Three years into our marriage, I finally learned from my husband. I went looking for love somewhere else. Three years ago, when his family went bankrupt, I handed him every cent I had. I nursed his dying grandfather. To support his entrepreneurial venture, I accompanied investors in drinking until I suffered stomach hemorrhages—time and time again. In the end, he honored his grandfather's dying wish and married me. Then he got blind drunk on our wedding day and walked out before the vows were finished. He said he hated me. Hated me for driving his childhood sweetheart Seraphina away. Hated me for costing him the only woman he ever loved. Our marriage was his revenge. Until the day Seraphina came home, and I slid the divorce papers across the table. The man who swore he hated me went red in the eyes, staring at the kiss mark on my throat…

I invited my colleagues out for drinks, only for my card to be declined at the bar. Desperate, I approached the handsome stranger sitting in the VIP booth. "Can you cover my tab? I'll pay you back." The man barely glanced up. "Do I know you?" I grabbed the wine glass from his hand. "No, but your bodyguard knows me pretty well. Ask him how many times he's called me for help. Don't I deserve a favor in return?" The man looked completely confused, but his bodyguard raised a hand to shield his face. "Sir, she's telling the truth. Every time you get drunk, you won't let anyone come near you except her. I've had to call her multiple times just to get you home safely."

The end of the world was upon us, but there weren't enough spots for evacuation. The roars of the zombies echoed in my ears as my fiancé, Oliver, gritted his teeth and pulled me onto the rescue vehicle—securing the last available seat. I arrived safely at the survivor base. Lina, his first love, did not. The zombies tore her apart. Oliver still went through with our marriage, but I never expected that he had only done so to make me suffer. In his eyes, I was the one who had killed Lina. If she had to endure such agony, then I should, too. For five years, he hated me. My life was worse than that of a stray dog scavenging for food on the street. On the day my divorce was finalized, he kidnapped me, dragged me into the wilderness, and wrapped his fingers around my throat. Then, he threw us both into the swarm of the undead. When I opened my eyes again, I was somehow reborn on the day the apocalypse began. The rescue team was shouting impatiently, "One more! We have room for one more—hurry!" I turned to Oliver, watching his hesitation. Then, with a quiet smile, I took a step back and let someone else have the last seat.

On the day of my wedding, the eldest princess, Selena Winchester, suddenly fell critically ill. As she lay dying, she made one final request. She wanted one of the prime minister's sons to accompany her to death. The moment my half-brother, Nathan Carter, heard the news, he collapsed on the spot. Since he was the only unmarried son, everyone assumed he would be the one chosen. When my fiancée saw that, she tore off her veil. In front of everyone, she dropped to her knees before me. "Jonathan, I've never begged anyone in my life. But today, I'm begging you. Please let Nathan take your place in this marriage." I froze, unable to believe what I was hearing. Her eyes turned red-rimmed as she struggled to continue. "I taught you how to hold your breath. If you stay inside the sealed tomb for seven days, I'll find a way to rescue you. Once you're out, you can still stay by my side. But Nathan's different. He doesn't know how to hold his breath. He's timid and terrified of the dark. If he's buried alive with Her Highness, he'll die." I slowly closed my eyes, a bitter laugh escaping me. "And if I refuse?" The guilt in her eyes disappeared, replaced by cold determination. "Jonathan, once I've made up my mind, no one can change it." I opened my eyes and held her gaze for a long moment. Then I let out a cold, mocking laugh. "Fine. I do it."

I died in the year my husband hated me most. Unable to endure his endless silent treatment any longer, I swallowed a bottle of pills and ended my life. At the crematorium, watching the flames roar inside the furnace, he allowed himself a rare smile. “Someone as vile as her doesn’t deserve to be laid to rest whole.” So when the staff handed him the urn, he flipped it over. My ashes scattered across the floor in an instant. All this time, he had believed I was responsible for the death of his first love. That belief was why he had schemed and plotted for years, all for this precise moment of final desecration. When it was over, he stepped over my ashes and walked away without looking back. Though not long after that, he fell to his knees and begged the crematorium to give my ashes back to him.

During my baby's sip-and-see, I spotted my wife kissing her crush in the nursery, even though she had once said that both the baby and I were her greatest blessings. I squashed down my anger and took several photos. During the celebration, the photographer asked me to move closer so we could take a family portrait, but I declined. "The baby isn't mine. I'm an outsider, so I won't be in the picture." While everyone stared at me in confusion, I displayed the photos of their affair on the big screen.

Abigail Southall, my wife, has once again lost Ethan and Owen Lincoln, the two young men she keeps by her side. She is trying to coax them to return this time by offering a signed divorce agreement. I have witnessed this routine of running away and chasing countless times. I throw fits, cause scenes, and even try running away from home like those two, but every single time, all she does is hand me a check with a larger amount than before. She then flashes a mocking smile and asks, "Is that enough for you?" I calmly take the divorce agreement and sign my name on the line. Abigail, holding my hand in satisfaction, says, "It's just a divorce for show; I'll withdraw it before the cooling-off period ends. I'm glad you are finally being reasonable. I mean, women of my status all have a desire to conquer, especially when it comes to dealing with a pair of aloof young men. "I'll come back to you so that we can settle down and live a good life once I win them over." I offer no rebuttal and simply pick up the check from the floor, thinking that she has no idea that I'm not going to wait for her anymore.

Steven Zimmer, the assistant of my wife, Lucy Quinn, has lost in a truth-or-dare session. Lucy doesn't hesitate to file for a divorce from me for the ninth time. In the courthouse, I hear the staff member asking Lucy curiously, "Your husband is like a well-trained dog now. You've already married and divorced him nine times! Aren't you worried that your husband might ditch you for real?" Lucy merely smirks at her. "Do you know that the more ruthless you are when you abandon your pets, the harder it'll be for them to live without you? In fact, they will just become more obedient and docile. As long as I curl a finger at him, he'll definitely sink down to his knees and beg me to remarry him." Everyone bursts into laughter after that. They bet that I'll plead pathetically to Lucy to remarry me for the tenth time in less than a day after I've obtained the divorce certificate. Lucy even declares that she'll stream the tenth wedding proposal on the Internet when it happens. But the next day, Lucy keeps waiting for me to show up at the city hall while clad in a wedding dress. All she gets is a text from me. "No more proposals. This is the end between us, Lucy."

The It Girl, Kelly Hilton, claims she's an airhead beauty. When a D-list nobody like me joins her on a variety show, she takes my mother's keepsake pendant without saying a word. Then, she breaks it into pieces. Yet, Kelly shows no remorse, saying, "Oh, I'm just such an airhead. It's normal for me to break things by accident. Your mom is already dead, so just let it go, okay? Everyone has to move on!" I laugh in disbelief. "You think causing trouble is cute and having no manners is being genuine? 'Airhead beauty'? You're just an idiot. Don't try to make yourself sound better than you are." Kelly's eyes redden. "How could you scold me? I quit! I'll have my brothers deal with you!" The crew is stunned. "Is she crazy? Doesn't she know how protective the Litt family brothers are of their sister?" "They are obsessed with Kelly. They'd do anything for her!" I can't help but laugh. I've entered the entertainment industry in the first place because my brothers are too clingy. I may be a nobody, but I haven't lost my memory. How come I don't know that my brothers have a sister named Kelly?

A few rounds into the night, when Ethan Brooks set his glass on the table and suggested a reverse game of Never Have I Ever. The rules were simple. Everyone took turns naming something they'd done. Anyone who hadn't done it put a finger down. The first person to put all five fingers down had to take a dare chosen by everyone else at the table. So when Ethan grinned and said, "I've dated a Grant," I laughed and raised my hand too. "What do you know? So have I." The whole table cracked up. When it was Claire Howard's turn, she lazily swirled the drink in her glass. She glanced at me, then looked at Noah. "Last month, Noah and I celebrated our seventh wedding anniversary." My smile slowly faded. "Don't joke about that." But Leah Collins, sitting next to her, burst out laughing. "Who says she's joking? We were all there for that 'wedding' of theirs." Seven years. Noah and I had only been together for five years. And our real wedding was still nine days away. I turned to Noah on instinct. He had his head down, fiddling with his phone as if he hadn't heard a thing. But the screen was still open to his text thread with Claire, and at the very bottom was a kissing-face emoji she'd just sent. I ended up with the dare. Ethan egged me on to use Noah's phone to call the third number on his recent-calls list and put the call on speaker. A woman's voice came through the speaker, warm with laughter. "Babe, you left your underwear in my bathroom when you showered here yesterday. Are you coming by tonight to pick it up?" The room went dead silent. I knew that voice. Leah. The others didn't even look shocked. Each of them had a piece of Noah's past: flirty jokes they'd once shared with him and secrets only his friends were in on. Some of them had even slept with him. And I, the woman who was marrying him in nine days, was the outsider. "You all win this game," I said, looking at him. "But him? I don't want him anymore."

I was the King's most favored mistress — more indulged than any other woman at court. And yet, after all this time, I still hadn't given him an heir. That day, just as I lifted the fertility tonic Doctor Rose Saylon had prepared for me to my lips, a string of glowing text appeared out of nowhere, hanging in the air in front of me. [The hero really does spoil the heroine rotten, letting her waltz in and out of the palace disguised as a physician.] [Well, our girl doesn't want to be caged up at court, does she? Forget being the King's favorite — he would hand her the crown itself if she asked.] [Meanwhile the other woman is over here choking down her medicine like a good girl, no idea it's the slow-acting poison the heroine cooked up just for her. Poor thing comes from a military family, and the hero's only using her.] [And every single time our hero "visits" her, she's actually drugged unconscious first. Then his captain of the guard, Connor Browning, takes his place in bed.] My head was spinning. What in the world were these words even talking about? Had someone found out that I'd been eyeing that broad-shouldered, narrow-waisted guard at the King's side this whole time?

I, my best friend, and my girlfriend are in our fourth year at the same law firm. People jokingly call us "The Three Musketeers". When colleagues egg us on to play "Never Have I Ever", my best friend, Owen Steele, is the first to speak. "Never have I ever been Chelsea's best partner." I respond with a smile, "Never have I ever been her live-in boyfriend." Owen doesn't back down. "Never have I ever been driven to and from work by her." My smile freezes, and I fold one finger down. For four whole years, my girlfriend, Chelsea Moran, always uses different work schedules as an excuse to make me take the bus and the subway. Owen ignores my pale face and continues, "Never have I ever talked with Chelsea for eight hours a day. Never have I ever stayed up all night with her three times a week. Never have I ever bought the red lingerie she wears." The whole room erupts in laughter and then falls into an eerie silence. By now, I only have one finger left standing. Owen leans in close and suddenly smiles. "Never have I ever had her meet my parents instead of yours on Independence Day." My breath catches. I turn to look at Chelsea, who remains expressionless. No wonder she doesn't answer my calls and even breaks the industry taboo by turning off her phone for 24 hours. It turns out she is off meeting her new in-laws. My fingers are all down now, and I walk away right in front of Chelsea.

At our dinner gathering, my best friend, Maya Miller, leaned in with a drunken smirk. "If you find out I'm sharing someone's husband, would you still be my friend?" Before I could answer, Maya kept going. "I didn't miss our lunch yesterday because I was sick," she whispered. "He installed a floor-length mirror, just to try something new with me." She took a sip of her wine. "And that retreat last month? Fake too. His wife just had a baby, so he took me to Aspen instead." I froze in total shock. Maya Miller suddenly burst out laughing. "Oh, come on! I’m totally joking. Look at your face!" I let out a breath and laughed it off. That evening, I drove to the office to drop off files for my husband, Ethan Cross. I walked in and froze. The floor-to-ceiling window in his private office was gone. Replaced by a massive floor-length mirror. Cold sweat broke out on my neck. I turned to Ethan. "Why the mirror?" Ethan pulled me into a soft hug from behind. "The window had a small crack, sweetheart. I got the mirror so you can touch up your makeup whenever you visit." I smiled and nodded, staying silent. As soon as Ethan walked out to grab his keys, I stepped up to the glass. Near the bottom corner were two faint, rounded smudges. I measured the shape with my hands. A D-cup. Exactly Maya Miller's size. I pulled out my phone, snapped a clear picture, and dialed a contact. "Get a construction crew here tonight. I want to replace a mirror with a two-way glass." I took a deep breath. "Then call the press. Tell them Ethan Cross is holding an emergency conference downstairs on Thursday.”

My husband was a Gold dragon. So was I. Yet I gave birth to a small Ice Blue dragon. Then came the news: my younger half-sister had borne a Gold dragon for his younger brother. Her fame spread like wildfire. Drakon Vexis, the Crown Prince, flew into a fury. He slaughtered my child. He threw me into the frozen dungeons, where I was tortured and starved until I breathed my last. When I opened my eyes again, I had returned to the day of my coming-of-age ceremony—the day the dragon court chose its brides. Without hesitation, Drakon chose my sister. I knew then. He had been reborn too.

The day our daughter had a high fever, Matt was at a parent-teacher meeting for his first love’s son. I called him, only for her to pick up. Through sobs, she apologized, but Matt quickly grabbed the phone, his tone impatient. "She’s a single mom with a kid. What’s wrong with me looking out for them?" So, I turned to my daughter, who was quietly receiving her IV, and asked softly, "How about it, sweetheart? From now on, it’s just you and me."

After my wife, Talia Rosenthal, becomes pregnant with her mentor's son, Lucas Hawthorne's, child, she asks me for a divorce. "We can get married after the baby's born. It's just for show, so don't read too much into it." To make matters worse, our daughter, Joyce Rosenthal, takes her side. "We need to repay those who help us. Besides, that's my mom's child too. Stop making things difficult for Mom, Dad." Instead of causing a scene like everyone expects, I nod quietly, swiftly finalize the divorce, and marry Sonya Silverstein, the woman who once saved my life. In my previous life, because I adamantly refuse to get a divorce, Talia and Joyce abandon me and leave for a distant land. I become a total laughingstock and hit rock bottom. Now that I've been given a second chance at life, I calmly go through with the divorce and vanish from their lives. … Six years later, at an exclusive luxury cruise party, Talia and Joyce push through the crowd on the dance floor, grab me by the wrist, and demand, "Didn't I tell you it was just for show? Where the hell have you been all these years?" I'm caught off guard. The very next second, my mischievous son, Jeremy Jensington, runs straight into my arms. "Daddy, who are you talking to? Mommy's looking for you!"

My firefighter husband had fallen from a great height during a mission and was rushed into the emergency room, covered in blood. As the only person capable of saving him, I stood just outside the operating room, calm and composed. Reaching for my makeup bag, I began carefully applying my makeup. Another doctor, panic-stricken, rushed toward me and shouted, "Dr. Warhol! The patient's kidney has ruptured! You're the only surgeon in all of Switzerland who can perform this life-saving procedure! If you don’t act now, he’s going to die!" I continued shaping my eyebrows with steady precision, not even glancing in his direction. "Quiet," I said coolly. "If you keep yelling, my brows might end up crooked."

I booked a consultation with a renowned traditional medicine practitioner six months in advance to treat my surgeon wife's arousal disorder over the holidays. However, on the appointment date, Wendy did not show up. Just as I was about to call to question her, I noticed a photo her male friend had posted on social media. In the photo, my usually aloof wife was hugging the guy with a radiant smile. The caption read: [Only I can cure your problem.] But what caught my attention was my wife's flushed face in the photo, clearly displaying signs of arousal. With a cold smirk, I immediately liked and commented: [You must have magic fingers that work wonders!] The comment section exploded, with everyone speculating whether I would tear my wife's lover apart. What awaited my wife was our official divorce after the cooling-off period ended.