Melodramatic Romance Short Stories & Poor Student Novels

At graduation, I invited my classmates to attend my engagement party, but what I didn’t expect was the total meltdown one of my classmates had when she saw my engagement photos. She strutted over, full of herself, and demanded that I take off my dress so she could use it to polish her shoes. I blinked in confusion, thinking she must have lost her mind. I laughed and suggested she head over to the campus clinic to get checked out. Instead, she exploded, pointing a finger right in my face as she started yelling. “You leech! How dare you wear something so expensive?” she screamed. “You’ve been spending all of my boyfriend’s money on your filthy clothes! Have you no shame? Get down on your knees and apologize, or I guarantee you'll regret it. Who knows where you'll end up tomorrow? Maybe in the hands of some trafficker?” I couldn’t help but laugh. Who would’ve thought that my fiancé, whose tuition fees I paid for, had the nerve to keep a secret mistress behind my back?

I'm in the hills for a project inspection when a sudden downpour hits. I lose my footing and tumble down a steep slope. Lying in a pool of blood, I fumble for my phone and call my husband, Joel Grant, who's supposed to be nearby. "Rachel has anxiety. I only brought her back to her hometown to help her unwind. Can you stop being so paranoid and jealous for once? You're due in two weeks. I'll be there, okay? Just behave." In the background, I hear Rachel giggle softly. "The models have to be in their birthday suit for sketching, right?" Joel hangs up without another word. My sister-in-law—and best friend—Chloe Murphy finds me. She's sobbing as she cradles me, desperately trying to call her husband, Michael Grant, for help. "Are all pregnant women insane these days?" Michael snaps. "Don't start with the same manipulative crap as Anna. Joel and I are busy modeling for Rachel. We don't have time for your petty dramas." Then he blocks her. My injuries are too severe. There's no way help will arrive in time. Despite being heavily pregnant herself, Chloe hoists me onto her back and carries me down the mountain to the nearest hospital. Somehow, I survive. My baby doesn't. Chloe, devastated and physically pushed past her limits, loses her child too. "I want a divorce," I whisper with my eyes swollen from crying. "Me too. I'm done with Michael." We filed for divorce together. That's when Joel and Michael finally lose their minds.

Jethro Miles was an orphan sponsored by my dad. The moment I laid eyes on him, I flipped. Despite my family's objections, we dated for seven years, even as my dad threatened to disown me. Eventually, my dad relented and consented to our marriage. But as we exchanged rings, a young woman in a white dress burst into the venue, staring at Jethro with tears in her eyes. He chased after her, abandoning our wedding. Later, I learned that the woman was his childhood friend from the orphanage. Jethro desperately tried to explain, "Nancy grew up with me. She is like a sister to me. She's been through abuse and divorce. Please, give me time to help her, okay?" Tears blurred my vision as I watched him plead so fervently, my heart plummeting into despair. I managed, "Okay." Jethro took care of Nancy and her son as if they were his real family. What he didn't know were the two secrets I'd kept from him when my dad finally agreed to our marriage: I was pregnant, and I was dying.

On my wife's birthday, she brought home the poor male student she had been sponsoring and invited him to celebrate with us. Then he turned around and threw the million-dollar necklace I had bought for her straight into the trash. “What even is this? A necklace this outdated should’ve been retired ages ago. Who picked it, some old-fashioned fossil?” For a moment, every friend and relative in the room stared in stunned silence. My wife, however, looked completely unfazed. Instead, she praised him for having a fresh eye and slipped on the cheap ring he had bought from a street stall. I watched it all without yelling, without making a scene. Then I picked up our marriage certificate and tossed it into the trash as well. “Good point. I guess an outdated husband like me should be retired too. Congratulations on your new marriage.”

My fiancé of eight years moved in with the junior he was mentoring. She was young, pretty, knew how to play helpless, and knew exactly what she was doing. He'd down every toast meant for her—the same nights he let me get talked into drinking until I nearly died. He sat with her through her depression, fetched her water, fed her by hand. And me? I was alone in a hospital bed, burning with a 104-degree fever. He set her up on a pedestal and never noticed I'd been ground into the dirt. The day they discharged me, I didn't scream. I didn't fall apart. I went home, quietly packed a suitcase, and burned every memory that had his name on it. Later I heard the famous CEO of Washington Group showed up at his fiancée's door with millions of dollars in gifts. He found an empty apartment. And he lost his mind.

I was a sucker for pretty faces. The only reason I agreed to date Isabelle was because she was passable-looking as partner material. It had only been a few days since junior year started when my roommate came over to me and awkwardly said, "Damian, I just spotted your girlfriend getting pretty close to that well-known broke pretty boy by the campus lake." I immediately rolled up my sleeves and rushed toward the lake. From a distance, I saw Isabelle standing very close to a slim young man. But the moment I got a good look at his face, I froze. "Damn! This guy was insanely handsome!" He was so good-looking that even I, as another guy, was jealous. Isabelle frowned and stepped in front of me. She said impatiently, "His grandma was rushed to the hospital after a heart attack. I was only trying to comfort him. Don't give him a hard time for no reason, okay?" I pulled her aside, then walked over and gave the handsome guy a firm pat on the shoulder. "Bro, if you're in trouble, you can come to me!"

Seven years into my relationship with Isla Farrow, she legally marries Damien Calder, a student she sponsors who is also ten years younger than her. When I see the marriage certificate, I think it must be a joke. Then Isla rushes to explain, and I realize it is real. "Damien's school is really strict. He has run out of every excuse in the book to get time off for his volunteer trip to an underserved community. Wedding leave is the only one he hasn't tried. "I'm just helping him out with a cover story. He's doing a good thing. When he gets back, I'll file for divorce. "It's not that big a deal. Why are you so mad? Once I'm divorced from him, we'll get married. Isn't that enough?" I put the marriage certificate back in the drawer. "There's no need. I wish you two a lifetime of happiness."

Caelan Hanson takes three bullets for his ice-cold, beautiful foster sister, Misty White, before her grandfather, Joel White, finally agrees to let him marry her. However, while Caelan lies unconscious from his injuries, Misty announces that the man she intends to marry is Ezra Caldwell, an impoverished student who's sponsored by the White family. This announcement sends shockwaves throughout the entire city. After all, everyone knows just how ruthless Caelan is, the wolf cub Misty had raised with her own hands. Ezra's merely an intern reporter at Portside Press Holdings. He's nowhere near worthy of being on this scion's radar. Hence, when Caelan shows up at Misty and Ezra's engagement party, almost every guest is certain that this spoiled little tyrant, who has fallen hopelessly in love with his mother's goddaughter, is about to wreak havoc. Misty's expression, too, hardens. Instinctively, she shields Ezra behind her and warns him, "Know your place, Caelan!" However, he flashes the two of them with an extremely bright smile and responds obediently, "Congratulations, Misty! You've found yourself a fine fiance."