Plot Twists Romance Short Stories & Novels

For seven years I dated my brother's best friend, Kane Walker, in secret, and I planned to propose to him the night he won the championship. I followed the location Kane had shared with me on Life360 to the team's private lounge. Outside the door, I heard a teammate ask him, "Lillian is coming back. What are you going to do about that plus-size stand-in you keep at home?" Kane idly swirled his glass. "She can't control what she eats. Whose fault is that? These days, one look at the rolls of fat all over her body makes me lose my appetite." Someone laughed. "You don't like her? You touch the bracelet she gave you before every game, and no matter how late a road game ends, you still go home. Weren't you the one who fed her until she weighed two hundred pounds because you were afraid somebody would take her?" The next day Kane took me to Lillian's welcome dinner and piled my plate with desserts in front of everyone. For the first time, I pushed his hand away. "I'm not eating that." But when Lillian left with reddened eyes, he rushed after her so recklessly that he knocked into a server and sent an entire tureen of scalding soup spilling over me. I came home with the burns and, for the first time, opened the trophy room he had never let me enter. On the wall, a photo of Lillian looked almost exactly like the slim, pretty girl I had been when I was younger. I took off the ring I had meant to give him and called my brother. "The arranged marriage. I'm saying yes. Set the wedding for a month from now."

I came into this world like a queen ascending her throne, flanked by three fierce guardians sworn to defend my reign. My husband is the best lawyer in Ardenfield. Though he's unbeatable in court, he doesn't dare stand up to me when I scold him at home. My childhood sweetheart leads the criminal investigation team and is a genius at solving cases. He even vows to eliminate any threat that surrounds me. Meanwhile, my adoptive brother is a rising star in the business world. Having inherited the Joplin family's business empire at an early age, he spends money on me without hesitation. Today marks both my seventh wedding anniversary and my birthday. I spend the entire day waiting for them at a rooftop restaurant, clutching a pregnancy test report in my hands. But instead of basking in celebration, I receive the heartbreaking news that my five-year-old daughter has drowned. To make matters worse, my husband decides to defend the culprit in court. When I cry out in agony, my childhood sweetheart puts me in handcuffs. My adoptive brother even goes to the extreme of reclaiming everything he has ever given me. "Louise, it was just an unfortunate accident between two children. Will you let Violet's son go now?"

On the day I went to try on my wedding dress, Enzo had said he would come with me—but he never showed up. The train of the gown was too long. I stood alone in front of the mirror, bending over again and again to fix it more than a dozen times. The third time I stepped on the hem, my phone finally buzzed. 'Natalie just came back and isn't used to the weather here. I'll go pick her up. You try on the dress first.' The next second, a new post popped up on social media. Natalie had uploaded a photo. In it, Enzo was crouched in front of her, one hand wrapped around her slender ankle as he carefully fastened the strap of her high heels. The caption was only one line. 'He still couldn't bear to let me bend down.' When I tapped into the post, I saw that Enzo had already liked it. The bridal assistant sensed the shift in the air and tried to comfort me in a low voice. "Ms. Blackwood, Mr. Beck really cares about you. He was worried you might secretly diet and hurt your health, so he specifically told us not to alter the waistline any further." I smiled. He cared about me, yes. But his care had never stopped him from favoring someone else. I lowered my head and looked at the wedding dress on my body. Then it suddenly struck me. The thing that did not fit had never been the dress. It was this wedding.

The day my husband, Lucas Maxwell, helps his childhood sweetheart—Cecilia Brown, who has cancer—lose her virginity, I leave behind a divorce agreement and walk away. Before I leave, I drop a comment beneath a photo of them on his social media. Their fingers are tightly interlocked in the photo. "Let's get divorced. I wish you both a lifetime of happiness." A minute later, he calls me. "How did I end up marrying someone as selfish as you, Fiona Sinclair? Do you really have the heart to let her die without leaving anything behind?" I sneer, "You're no longer my husband. How is that my problem?" That's when he panics.

I saw my husband, Winston Lawson, jerking it off to his robot butler, and it made me sick to my stomach. I held back my disgust and sent that robot to the factory for disposal. To my shock, Winston slammed his foot on the gas and chased after it like his life depended on it. On the way, he got into a terrible car accident and was declared dead at the scene. From that day on, the elite circle branded me a jealous, vicious woman. Five years had gone by. For countless nights, I blamed myself. I kept wondering whether Winston would still be alive if I had not been so fixated on a mere object. One day, when I was going to a private club for business talks, I walked by a VIP lounge with its door ajar. Winston's buddies were joking around inside. "How long are you going to drag this fake death out for, Winston?" The voice that came out next was something I was very familiar with. It was deep, relaxed, and painfully familiar. "After Jessica has her baby. If that woman hadn't been so crazy as to send the butler to the factory for disposal, Jessica wouldn't have to pretend that the system short-circuited to get away. I wouldn't have to fake my death to help with her perfect escape." His buddy clicked his tongue. "Can't believe you had Jessica wear that custom-made bionic skin and pretend to be a robot so you could cheat with her right under your wife's nose. That's some kinky stuff." He faked his death? And the butler was Jessica Gold? So Winston was still alive. And the robot he had been so obsessed with was never a robot at all. It had been my best friend, hidden inside a suit. A waiter passed by and bumped into me. His tray crashed to the floor, and the conversation inside the lounge stopped. Winston turned around, and our eyes met.

My boyfriend is a forensic doctor. I've been abducted and tied to a bomb—there's only ten minutes to detonation. The abductors force me to call my boyfriend, but all I get is a scolding. "What the hell do you want, Michelle? What are you playing at, using your life as an excuse just because you're jealous? "Vi's cat has already been stuck in a tree for three days. She loves it like it's her life! If you delay me from saving it, you'll be a murderer!" I hear a coquettish voice ring out on the other end of the line. "Thank you for this, Kev. You're amazing!" I recognize that voice—it belongs to my boyfriend's childhood friend. I text my boyfriend when the bomb is about to explode. "Farewell forever. I pray we won't meet each other again in another life."

While I'm off taking a mascot job at the mall just to make a quick buck, my wife, Marissa Osbourne, is accompanying her first love, Dominic Finch, on a shopping trip to buy him a suit. She even goes as far as to buy him five suits in one go just to show how generous she is. The thing is, those suits cost three months of my salary. When Marissa approaches me, she doesn't recognize me in the mascot suit. Instead, she starts jeering at me. "To think that a grown man is still dressed up as a mascot in a mall just to earn money! What a pathetic loser!" She doesn't know that I've given up on my inheritance of hundreds of millions of dollars' worth of assets. As I watch Marissa leave while tittering, I suddenly realize that the marriage that I've been maintaining for so many years is hollow all along.

The day I was diagnosed with emotional dependency disorder, my doctor told me, "Your world can't exist without Ms. Reynolds's love." And so Audrey Reynolds became my emotional anchor. She put me first in everything, even turning down important projects just to stay by my side through treatment. It wasn't until the day my condition finally stabilized that she smiled again. Her childhood friend, Damon Walsh, smiled too. "I told you it couldn't have been that serious. Wasn't Preston just doing all this on purpose to keep Audrey tied to him?" That was the first time Audrey ever hit Damon. She forced him to apologize to me. But on the day Damon went to the bar, I only quietly said that my heart was racing. Audrey suddenly slammed the medication bottle down. "Can you stop being so selfish? Damon is devastated after his breakup! I spend every day revolving around you. Is it really too much to ask that I spend a few hours taking care of him? "If you want to have another episode, then go ahead! I've had enough!" She kicked all the medication across the floor, grabbed her car keys, and stormed out, slamming the door behind her. I said nothing. I only stared at the red marks I'd scratched into my wrist from anxiety as my breathing grew more and more difficult.

During my tenth attempt at IVF, I was finally pregnant with triplets. I was extremely excited when I found out that I was pregnant, and I immediately wanted to tell Liam White. That was when I accidentally overheard his conversation with the doctor. “Mr. White, aren’t you afraid that Ms. Scott will find out that you’ve secretly swapped the eggs with Holly’s? “Besides, it’s not good for Ms. Scott to be pregnant with triplets. It’ll be very dangerous for her.” Through the gap of the door, I saw Liam say coldly, “Holly will only become the top supermodel after Evelyn gives birth to triplets and ruins her figure completely. “When Evelyn gives birth to the triplets, I’ll propose to Holly on the same day. “Then, my life will be complete with my career, love, and children. Evelyn is nothing but a surrogate to me.” I stood outside of the door and finally understood how cruel Liam could be. Then, I immediately made a call. “Mandy, I want to join next week’s fashion week.”

On the first day of New Year's, my good buddy, Vincent Wales, sent me a video. “Leon, take a look. Does this woman look like your wife? It’s all over.” In the video, a man and a woman were making out passionately. As the car rocked violently, the woman’s face came into view. It was unmistakably my wife. My blood rushed straight to my head. My hands shook as I dialed her number. “Hello, honey… What’s the matter?” Her breathing was uneven, like she had just been doing something intense. I was about to speak when she suddenly let out a few loud cries. “A-Ah… It’s nothing. I’ll hang up now. I’m just playing cards with friends." With that, all I heard was the dial tone. Playing cards? She had clearly told me she was working overtime!

When my pilot boyfriend canceled our wedding for the 18th time, I finally snapped. The first time, his trainee got her period, and he bailed on me just to take care of her. The second time, she messed up a task, and all he said was, "Jan's upset", before walking out and leaving me to face our wedding guests alone like some kind of joke. We've been together for three years, and every single time she had an issue, he dropped our wedding plans to rush to her side. Finally, it hits me—maybe I never really mattered to him. So I make up my mind to see the world on my own and book a flight to Pavrielle. At least this way, no one will get the chance to leave me behind again.

At three in the morning, I stare at the unknown transaction record on my phone screen, my fingertips turning cold. The record is for a payment of 2980 dollars, made for an executive suite at the Wisteria. The time of payment was 8:00 pm last night. My husband, Tristan Griffin, is a detective. He was on the night shift last night. I clutch my phone, my knuckles turning white as I text Tristan, "I just saw your credit card bill for a hotel stay last night. What's up with that?" His reply is instant. "Our team had to work overtime at the last minute, so they put us up at the hotel. I forgot to tell you about it." I scan the text and sputter. The Wisteria is located in the western region of the city, which is on the other end from where his squad is stationed. I don't press him for more details and click on the bank app on my phone. Having found the vendor's address through the payment record, I sent it to my best friend, Rowena Sheffield, who works as a private detective. She replies instantly with an "OK" emoji and follows up with, "Give me a second. I'll find out everything you want in a jiffy!"

Ever since my wife had that oversized custom sofa delivered, she'd been sleeping in the living room every night. Whenever I tried to bring her back to the bedroom, she brushed me off with the same excuse—she was tired. Sometimes, she even locked the bedroom door from the outside. I would hear muffled, muffled sounds coming from the living room late into the night. The door wouldn't open again until the next morning. I couldn't take it anymore. The day she gave birth, she had just been wheeled out of the delivery room, still lying on the hospital bed, too weak to even sit up. I refused to hold the baby. Instead, I told her I wanted a divorce. Her eyes turned red as she stared at me. "Just because I've been sleeping on the couch every night, you're divorcing me, right after I give birth to our child?" I didn't hesitate. "Yeah."

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.

Five years after their breakup, Lauren Scott signed a master-servant contract with Yale Sutton, the ex-boyfriend who had been penniless when they were together. Yale would pay off her debts, and in return, Lauren had to fulfill his every demand. "Lauren, take off one piece of clothing, and I'll knock a million off your debt." Yale spoke slowly, his voice dripping with mockery. Around the private room, the men hooted and cheered while the women laughed and made teasing remarks. Lauren gritted her teeth. "Fine. Just don't go back on your word, Mr. Sutton." Without a moment's hesitation, she unbuttoned her blouse and let it fall to the floor, baring her porcelain-white skin and most of her full, rounded breasts. The room fell silent for a moment before whistles erupted from every direction.

When an earthquake strikes, I'm trapped under one end of a collapsed slab. On the other end is the student I've been sponsoring. My husband, Sebastian Chesson, tells the rescue team to save the student first. The rescuers hesitate. "The other victim might not make it if we do." Sebastian replies coldly, "The other one is my wife. I'll sign a waiver—she's not that easy to kill." I survive, but the three-month-old baby in my womb doesn't. Later, a rescuer hands me a card. "Mr. Chesson said this is five million dollars in exchange for your life." Meanwhile, Sebastian and the student's fairytale romance dominates the trending charts, praised by the internet as the epitome of true love. On our tenth wedding anniversary, I return home to find the student lounging on my bed, wearing my pajamas, playfully teasing Sebastian. Just then, a call comes in from Sebastian's student, who's been eyeing me for a long time. His voice is low, flirtatious, and sinful. "Ms. Sinclair, you always remind me to get to bed early… If you really care, why don't you move in and make sure I do?"

Before going to bed, I stumbled onto a love confession livestream. A young man was on screen, talking about his past. "Actually, I was sponsored through college. The guy who supported me was really kind. The summer after my freshman year, I stayed at his place for a while. One night, I went to the kitchen in just a tank top and shorts to get some water, and I ran into his wife. "He thought I was still studying out of state, but the truth is, I've been living in a villa in the same city, kept by his wife. She's pregnant with my twins, so I've already taken a leave from school to take care of her. "I know I've wronged him, but she and I are truly in love. He's always been so lofty—she and I are the ones who belong to the same world." A chill of disgust ran through me. I almost blocked him on the spot, but when I tapped into his profile, I realized he had already blocked me. Curiosity got the better of me. I switched to an alternate account and searched for his ID. What filled the screen were countless photos. Photos of the poor student I had sponsored. And my wife.

Ryan Becker's favorite phrase was always, "Just wait a little longer." I waited two years for his startup to stabilize so we could get married. I waited another three years for his mother to warm up to the idea of a wedding. On the night of his 30th birthday dinner, his mother slipped her emerald bracelet off her wrist in front of everyone. Passing down the heirloom was their old tradition for recognizing a daughter-in-law. I thought that this time, finally, I wouldn't have to wait anymore. "Give me your hand, dear." Yet Aurelie Becker reached right past me and smoothly fastened the bracelet around Sabine Hansen's wrist instead. The entire room fell dead silent. She patted the back of Sabine's hand warmly. "Sabine grew up with Ryan. We're all one family here, no distinctions between us." My hands were still resting on the table, my fingertips turning cold. Someone whispered, "What about Miss Solis?" Ryan leaned in close, lowering his voice. "My mom is just being sentimental. Don't take it to heart. I'll bring you a custom necklace from my business trip next month. Just wait a little longer, okay?" Sabine lifted her wrist, flaunting it right in front of my face with a provocative smile. "Look, Eliza, isn't it beautiful? Aurelie says it's an old-mine emerald." "It's beautiful," I said simply. Just then, the phone inside my bag vibrated. It was a text message that read: [Have you made up your mind? When are you coming to Phaelis?]

On Christmas Eve, our three-year-old daughter, Noelle Gilder, who has cancer, takes a turn for the worse. All she wants is for her mother, Ivana Lance, to dress as Santarina and bring her a gift. I frantically call Ivana, but she impatiently yells into the phone, saying, "Why are you calling me nonstop? I am helping Charles look for Bubbles! Do you really have to make a scene over this? If Bubbles is gone, Charles will be so heartbroken that he will not be able to sleep for days!" Bubbles? So she was looking for the dog of her first love, Charles Larsson! Suppressing my anger, I tell her that Noelle might not survive the night. She laughs disbelievingly, "Mr. Gilder, do not think for a second that I'm not aware that you've spoiled Noelle rotten! If she had not suddenly kicked Bubbles, he would not have run away. Make Noelle apologize to Charles tomorrow." After hanging up, I accompany Noelle as she spends her final Christmas Eve with tears in my eyes. The next day, Ivana publishes a post on Instagram, still looking for the dog. Meanwhile, my post is Noelle's obituary. Ten years of marriage melt away into nothingness like snow.

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.