Plot Twists Romance Short Stories & Pregnancy Novels

I rushed back from out of town overnight when my best friend, Siobhan Coventry, went into labor. After learning that both mother and child were safe, I got teary-eyed with emotion. "Have you decided on the baby's name yet?" I asked. Her smile stiffened unnaturally for a moment. "Leonard Kessler. We'll call him Leo." "Kessler?" I stared at her in surprise. "I thought you said the baby would take your last name. Is his biological father's last name Kessler?" She gave me a vague hum before quickly changing the subject. "Ginny, I've been craving the wraps from that place in the college town." I nodded, forcing my doubts aside, and went out to buy one for her. It was only when I reached the hospital entrance that I suddenly remembered I hadn't given her my gift yet. I hurried back upstairs, only to see my husband—who had been away for two years, supposedly carrying out a classified project and never once returning home—walking into my best friend's hospital room with a bouquet in his hands. He sat down beside her bed and took her hand, his face full of concern. "You were so amazing, my love." My mind went completely blank, and all the blood rushed to my head. My hand was still on the doorknob when I saw my mother carrying the baby over to them, beaming with delight. "Look—the baby smiled as soon as he heard his daddy's voice." So her baby's last name was taken from Vincent Kessler—my husband's last name. The classified project… The whole story about having a child without the father in the picture… It had all been a lie. Even my own mother had helped her goddaughter and son-in-law deceive me. The people I loved most in the world didn't want me involved with this family at all.

I begged my husband for weeks before he finally agreed to come with me to my prenatal appointment. The whole time, he just stood there with his hands buried in his pockets, watching me coldly as I handled everything on my own—paying the bills, checking in at the front desk, running around like crazy until I was completely overwhelmed. The second I walked into the exam room, he vanished into thin air. And to top it off, he took off in my car, leaving me to take the bus home by myself. As soon as I got on the bus, my phone buzzed. He'd sent me a screenshot of a receipt: [Companionship fee: 50 dollars] [Round-trip gas: 7 dollars] [Total: 57 dollars] There was also a voice message attached. "Our marriage is strictly fifty-fifty. What does your pregnancy checkup have to do with me? Why should I give up my day off to go to the hospital with you?" Listening to that icy message, I suddenly remembered the way he once got down on his knees in front of me, begging me to help pay for his education. I was so angry, I just started laughing. Fine then. If this was a fifty-fifty marriage, it was time to settle the score!

I have a premature rupture of the membrane when I'm 38 weeks pregnant. I have no choice but to undergo an emergency C-section. To my surprise and dismay, the anesthesiologist is my ex-boyfriend, with whom I broke up eight months ago. God, save me! Could I please have another anesthesiologist? It's my ex-boyfriend's child I'm giving birth to, and I suddenly don't want to bring the child into the world anymore!

The day before my wedding, I secretly go to the hospital to terminate my pregnancy with Richard Johnson's baby. In the hallway, I run into a doctor I know. She looks at me in surprise. "Ms. Xander? Just last week, you were worried that your belly would show through your wedding dress. Why did you suddenly decide not to keep the baby? "Didn't Mr. Johnson come with you?" I lower my head and gently touch my slightly rounded belly, my heart aching with emptiness. "He's very busy. "He's downstairs, accompanying his young stepmother to her prenatal checkup."

In the underground casino, my ex-fiancé Don Dante Castellano threw the card in my face. His arm was around Sabrina—his first love—and his eyes were ice as they shoved me toward the table. "Your father owed mine a life. The thing in your belly isn't mine." He pressed the card flat against my cheek. "The daughter pays the father's debt. Tonight you're the living chip on that table." The paternity test was fake. The child was his. I knew. He didn't believe me. That night, with a gun pointed at my head, I took off all my clothes in front of everyone. Two years passed. Two years later, in Vegas, he saw me again. I was in a red silk dress with a gold chain around my neck, the other end of the chain held by a yellow-toothed gambler. "This bitch is cheap. Bark for me, and all these chips are yours." I picked up the chips, practiced. "Woof. Woof." Sabrina pressed her face into his chest, covering her nose. "Dante. This is disgusting. Let's go." He didn't go. The veins rose along his temple. He was staring at the bruises on my knees. Then he kicked the gambler across the room. He bent down and took hold of my chin. Hard. "Sienna. Money, and you'll do anything at all?" He was close enough that I could smell him. Soap. Two years, and still the same soap. I closed my eyes, opened them, pulled my mouth into a smile for him. "That's right, boss. Pay up and I'll cooperate with whatever position you want. Care to buy a round?"

My boyfriend, Sebastian Morris, and I have been in a long-distance relationship for three years, yet he never lets me visit him. After I get pregnant, I take an eight-hour flight without telling him, hoping to surprise him. While my phone is in airplane mode, Sebastian sends me a message that reveals I've been the other woman all along. As soon as I land and reconnect, I see over a hundred unread messages from him. I tap on our chat with a smile, only to find the truth waiting for me. "I already have a girlfriend. We've been together for seven years. Our families have everything planned out. We're getting engaged soon." Sebastian says that when he first started talking to me, he and his girlfriend, Clarissa Farber, had been in the middle of a fight. Bored and lonely, he wanted someone to kill time with. "I never thought you'd take it seriously." His final message was sent three minutes ago. "If this doesn't bother you, we can keep seeing each other. You just can't let Clarissa find out about you. I don't want her getting hurt. Ultimately, the choice is yours." I rest a hand over my faint baby bump as my heart clenches. What about me? Doesn't he care if I'm the one who gets hurt?

I was nine months along and ready to give birth, but my husband, Sean Conner, had me locked in the basement storage room and told me to hold the baby in. He said it was because his late brother’s wife, Quinn Faber, was also due today. Years ago, Sean and his brother had agreed that the first child born to the Conners would be raised as the heir and inherit the family inheritance. “Quinn’s baby must come first,” Sean said as if it were nothing. “She lost her husband and has nothing. You already have my love. It’s only right that the inheritance goes to her child.” The pain from the contractions folded me over, and I cried, begging him to take me to the hospital. He wiped my tears with a dangerously calm voice. “Stop the act,” he snapped. “I always knew you didn’t love me. All you care about is money and status. You forced labor to happen early so you could steal my nephew’s place… How can you be so cruel?” White-faced and shaking, I managed to whisper, “I can’t control when a baby comes. It’s a coincidence. I swear I don’t care about the inheritance. I love you!” He let out a cold laugh. “If you loved me, you wouldn’t have pushed Quinn to sign that contract relinquishing her child’s inheritance. Fine. Once she has her baby, I’ll come back for you. After all, the child in your belly is my blood.” Sean stayed outside Quinn’s delivery room. Only after the newborn arrived did he remember me. He ordered his secretary to take me to the hospital, but the secretary’s voice trembled as he said. “Madam… and the baby… They’re both gone…” At that moment, Sean lost his mind.

During the five years that Sophie Lord was married, she had been continuously doing IVFs and was finally able to become pregnant with Luke Shaw’s child. That same day, she saw Luke at the hospital with his secretary, Helen Jones. He was accompanying her for a pregnancy test. Sophie was devastated and asked Luke to choose between her and the child in Helen’s womb. “Let’s not make a fuss, Sophie. I’ll explain everything to you when I get back. You need to calm down first. I’m keeping this child no matter what.” He carefully supported Helen as they left, but what he didn’t see was the blood trickling down Sophie’s legs. Later on, when Sophie disappeared from Luke’s life, the latter brought down completely.

My girlfriend called me frantically out of the blue, saying her mother's water had broken. She begged me to take them to the hospital. But I lazily hung up the phone and turned away, buying myself an ice cream bar instead. In my previous life, her mother had also gone into labor late in life. I had risked everything to rush her to the hospital, running twelve red lights, pushing my car to the limit until the fuel gauge nearly burst. Yet, despite all that, her mother had lost the baby. Worse still, she turned around and accused me of killing the baby. My girlfriend had hated me for it, blaming me for her mother's inability to have children again. That very night, she and her shameless relatives took over my family's house, forcing my parents into such anger and despair that they ended up in the hospital. My company went bankrupt, and as if that weren't enough, I was beaten so severely that both my legs were broken. In the end, I fell into a deep depression and took my own life. But when I opened my eyes again, I found myself reborn. This time, I uncovered the secret her mother had been hiding.

My wife, Lily Tanner, is a mortician. She's trying to avoid getting fired during her pregnancy, so she keeps locking herself in the morgue. I may be her husband and colleague, but even I am not allowed inside. I don't want her to work too hard, so in the middle of the night, I sneak into the morgue to do her checks for her. However, she reacts by going berserk and sounding the alarm. Ever since then, I've been very careful around her, fearing that it may affect her pregnancy. Later on, with Lily repeatedly receiving praise from the deceased's family, our department decides to hold a commendation ceremony for her. The whole family seems relieved. However, as soon as Lily receives her award, I ask her for a divorce. The room instantly falls silent. Tearing off the medal on her chest, she complains in a wounded tone, "I'm working myself to the bone even when I'm pregnant, and I'm doing all this to give our child a better life. You're worried that I'll outperform you and overtake you as the top mortician in the industry, aren't you?" I look away from her, a cold smile forming on my lips. "Spend the rest of your life with those bodies, then. I don't want the child anymore, and I'm definitely divorcing you."

In the late stages of her pregnancy, my wife slipped away into the mountains with her childhood sweetheart, seeking some reckless thrill under the open sky. Fate, however, had other plans. She suffered a massive hemorrhage, and the two were rushed to the hospital. As a doctor, I took one glance at her condition and instructed the nurse to prepare for the cremation. In my previous life, I had risked everything to save her. On that very operating table, she and the child inside her perished together. Her childhood sweetheart, overcome with grief and fury, rallied others to accuse me of seeking personal revenge. Their rage was relentless, and they broke my hands. "A butcher like you, without medical ethics, deserves nothing less than eternal damnation!" they shouted, their words burning like brands on my soul. Yet I distinctly remembered—the surgery had been a success. Her vital signs had stabilized. Clinging to hope, I begged my in-laws to conduct an autopsy, to uncover the truth buried beneath the accusations. Instead, they called the police, who swiftly charged me with performing surgery under the influence of alcohol. Stripped of my rights, I was thrown into prison, where suffering became my only companion. Years later, upon release, I stumbled across a sight that tore what was left of my heart to shreds—my wife, alive and well, behind the wheel of a luxury car, accompanied by her childhood sweetheart and their child, living off the fortune I had worked tirelessly to build. Their betrayal didn't end there. Coldly and methodically, they lured me into a trap, casting me into a cement mixer to erase every trace of my existence. When I next opened my eyes, time had rewound itself. I was back on that fateful day, the one when her hemorrhage began.

Every year, my husband Adrian granted his childhood sweetheart Keira whatever she wished for on her birthday. Last year, he gave her one half of a matching pair of rings. The year before that, he'd used ninety-nine military jets to write "Keira, I love you" across the sky. Everyone was on the edge of their seats, wondering what he'd come up with this year. Keira closed her eyes and made her wish over the birthday candles. "My birthday wish this year is to marry Adrian." The room went dead silent. I stood in the doorway, clutching the lab report that confirmed my pregnancy. Adrian and I had been married for five years, and today I'd finally found out I was pregnant. But faced with Keira's wish, Adrian didn't look the slightest bit troubled. He actually laughed. "That's your wish? Easy." He stood up, walked over, and took my arm, lowering his voice. "Vivian, it's Keira's birthday. She's the birthday girl, and I'm only giving her what she wished for." "Just come with me to sign the divorce papers, and first thing tomorrow morning, we'll remarry." I stared at the man in front of me in disbelief. I had been by his side for five full years, from when he was an ordinary soldier to now, a high-ranking officer. And now he wanted to divorce me for his childhood sweetheart's birthday wish. I gripped the pregnancy report tighter. "But I'm pregnant."

At the supermarket, a child slams into my pregnant belly. The pain is so intense that I collapse to the floor and cannot get back up. I groan, "My phone... Call my husband..." Only after giving the child a slap does the woman pick up my phone. Apologizing repeatedly, she searches my contacts for "Husband". She calls several times, but no one answers. "Don't panic. I'll have my husband come handle this," she says, taking out her own phone and calling her husband. He answers after the very first ring. "Honey, our son got into trouble again! Adjourn your meeting and get over here. He knocked into a pregnant woman!" Ten minutes later, Shawn Leake, who is supposed to be working in another city, arrives at the scene. The first thing he notices is the child's swollen cheek. A look of concern crosses his face as he frowns and searches the area. He grumbles, "Was it really necessary to hit him? Who exactly did he run into—" The moment our eyes meet, his voice cuts off abruptly.

My husband has a dangerous condition - Jacob's syndrome, a rare genetic disorder where men carry an extra Y chromosome (XYY). But it's not just the genetics - he has an uncontrollable rage that turns him into a monster. It all started when I saved his life. After that, he became obsessed with me, relentlessly pursuing me for three years. He deliberately ran his car into my childhood sweetheart, leaving him permanently disabled. Then he threatened to kill my entire family unless I married him. For seven years after our marriage, his controlling behavior became pathological. He even had a tracking chip implanted in my body and completely controlled my freedom. Yet at the same time, he showered me with endless love and catered to my every wish. When my mother-in-law pointed her finger at me while speaking, he snapped it without hesitation. When my sister-in-law's child disturbed my afternoon nap, he threw them both out of the house and severed all family ties. I refused to have a child, terrified of what darkness might be passed down, so he invested his entire fortune into developing cutting-edge genetic screening technology, making it possible for me to conceive a healthy baby. But on the very day I discovered I was pregnant... My mother-in-law stormed into our home with a group of people, accusing me of having an affair and carrying another man's child. They beat me until I lost the baby. As I lay there barely clinging to life, my husband finally arrived. My mother-in-law thrust a doctored video in his face and said, "Troy! Your wife had an affair and got pregnant with another man's child. Look, here's the proof!"

My husband, Mason Crawford, is a renowned obstetrician-gynecologist with more thank-you greeting cards from patients than I can count. But when I start bleeding during my first trimester and rush to the hospital to see him, he kicks me out. "Family doesn't get special treatment. Hospital rules. You have to register and wait in line like everyone else." I take his words to heart. I never bother him, not once, for any of my prenatal checkups. That is, until his first love, Vivian Werner, who married and moved abroad, comes back pregnant. That's when everything changes. When Vivian comes in for her prenatal checkups, he personally pulls strings to arrange a VIP room for her. And the checklist of tests he draws up for her is even more detailed than the one he gave me. Vivian says she's scared something might happen to her baby, so he brings in the best medical team to watch over her 24/7. I find this unfair, so I complain to him about it a lot. But Mason simply wipes away my tears gently. "She's divorced and pregnant. She's already got it hard enough. Do you really have to be jealous over this, too?" Since I can't think of a comeback, I have no choice but to bite my tongue and bottle up my feelings. Then, on my way to get a fetal heart-rate monitoring test, I get into a car accident. I call him countless times, but he never comes to sign the consent forms. The surgery ends, and I hold our stillborn baby in my arms. I want him to come see our daughter one last time, but he still doesn't pick up. It isn't until the sun goes down that his buddy calls me with the "good news". "Leah, Vivian's given birth. It's a boy. I've never seen Mason's hands shake like that before. You should go get a gift and bring it here as soon as possible. Mason says he wants to become the baby's godfather." So this is why he hasn't picked up. He's busy delivering his ex-girlfriend's baby.

After I gave birth to Yates Zane's child, Leo Zane, I developed severe postpartum depression. I'd pressed a knife to my own wrist countless times. Every time, Yale fought with everything he had to hold me back when I lost control. "Don't do this. Think about the baby and me. We're here with you..." My sister, Claire Cole, and my best friend, Winnie Blake, even grabbed knives and held the blades to their own wrists. "You want to die? Fine. Then we'll die with you. Is that enough?" After that day, I committed myself to treatment. I couldn't bear to let anyone else get hurt because of me. Yet just when I thought I was finally about to see the light again, my sister took me to a wedding. There, standing on the stage were Yates and Winnie, the bride and groom of the hour. My mind went blank with a deafening buzz. The blood in my veins seemed to freeze. Claire gazed at the couple onstage with envy. "They should've had this wedding five years ago. "Your depression was the only reason the two of them spent all these years trapped by guilt." Then she suddenly turned to me. "Do you get it now? We've all been miserable because of you. "Let him go."

My wife, Sophie Souza, cheats on me when she gets drunk. That's when she gets pregnant with her assistant, Dylan Hart's baby. By the time I come across Sophie's pregnancy report, she's already three months into her pregnancy. I tell her outright that I will choose to forgive her as long as she aborts the baby. But Sophie asks me coldly, "Which one will you choose? Me or your dignity?" I remain silent for a very long time afterward. In the end, I leave a divorce agreement behind and completely vanish from Sophie's world. But that's when she claims that she regrets making me choose.

The day before we are supposed to go abroad to get our marriage registered, George Anderson slips a five-carat diamond ring onto my ring finger. "Geri, once you wear this, you'll be Mrs. Anderson for the rest of your life." Before I even have time to feel moved, his tone suddenly shifts. "But I've already canceled tomorrow's flight and asked for a refund. Let's put off the registration for now." He slowly turns the rosary beads on his wrist, speaking as if it's the most natural thing in the world. "Mia's depression has relapsed. She's threatening to jump off a building. The only thing that can calm her down is getting a marriage certificate with her. "I have to go register my marriage with her right now. If she finds out I married you abroad, she'll lose her mind." I freeze and stare at him in disbelief. However, he ruffles my hair with eyes full of indulgence and helplessness. "Be good. It's just a piece of paper. Once her condition is stable, we'll have our wedding. If you really want to go to Frosh Isle, just join a tour group yourself." I watch as his figure retreat in a hurry and touch my lower abdomen. Then, I tear the prenatal checkup report for the twins in my bag into pieces. Next, I make the call for my final confirmation of starting the overseas study program. I no longer intend to see the aurora in Frost Isle with George.

Three months pregnant, Gwyneth Stone spotted a little boy's suit while browsing an upscale maternity and baby store. She rubbed her belly, her face glowing with happiness. "Excuse me, could you wrap this suit up for me?" Her husband, Preston Gallagher, hadn't had time to come with her, but he'd given her a black card and told her to buy whatever she wanted. "I'm sorry, miss, but we're closing early today. A VIP customer will be arriving shortly, and she's bought out everything in the store." Gwyneth froze, clutching the suit and reluctant to let it go. "Her husband personally bought out the entire store for her. I heard she just found out she's pregnant, and he's already spending this much on her. Who knows how much he'll spoil her from now on?" The clerk looked troubled. "So, about this suit—" Before she could finish, a familiar woman's voice came from behind Gwyneth. "Let her have it. My best friend is having a girl anyway, so she might as well take the boy's clothes." Gwyneth turned around, stunned to find her best friend, Rebecca Lynch, standing there. "Becca, what are you doing here?" she asked. Rebecca clearly hadn't expected to see her either. Her face instantly went pale. "What a coincidence, Gwen. I came... to buy something for your baby." "But I'm having a son." Rebecca had been right beside her at the prenatal checkup when the private doctor told Gwyneth she was having a boy. There was no way she could have forgotten. "I—" Before Rebecca could explain, another familiar voice echoed. "Honey, the baby's not even born yet, and you've already bought out the whole store for her?" It was their friend, Selene Somerset. And the man standing beside her was Gwyneth's husband.

My wife hid the fact that she was carrying another man’s baby. She told me the truth only after she gave birth. I did not get angry. I even agreed to let her lover move into our home. Then, one day, she found a photograph in my bedroom. The moment she saw it, she fell apart.