Mga Maiikling Kuwento at Nobelang Regret Romance

My fiancé had an incredible memory. He could remember anything after seeing it just once. However, when he proposed, he forgot to bring the engagement ring. When we went to register our marriage, he forgot to bring his identification. On our wedding day, he completely forgot that he was supposed to show up. He was too busy rushing to the wedding next door, where he was helping his childhood sweetheart save the day. When my mother saw what happened, she suffered a heart attack on the spot. I begged my fiancé to come to her hospital ward and explain himself. Instead, the man who had always kept me at arm's length turned warm and affectionate with his childhood sweetheart's mother. As for me, he introduced me as nothing more than a junior from school who refused to leave him alone. After that, I arranged my mother's funeral by myself and applied for an overseas work assignment. When I returned home to pack my things, my fiancé had just come back from his honeymoon with that woman. He looked completely satisfied, a smile playing at the corners of his eyes. "Rose, how is your mom doing? We can pick another proper date for the wedding. That’ll make her happy." He had no idea that from the moment my mother died, there was no longer any possibility of a future between us.

Everyone in Hemsouth City knew Joe Kingston as the ultimate trust fund kid. Tall, handsome, and wild, he lived exactly how he pleased. At the height of his partying days overseas, an urgent telegram from his father summoned him home. It contained only one cold, uncompromising line: "Come home immediately. You're marrying Fiona Spencer." Fiona was one of the youngest and most promising officers in the military. Cool, disciplined, and fiercely self-controlled, she couldn't have been more different from him. He lived for a good time. She preferred peace and quiet. He did whatever he wanted and had gotten himself into more trouble than he could count. She followed every rule to the letter and treated military discipline as absolute. He was wild and free, changing girlfriends as often as he changed clothes. She was famously uninterested in men and had supposedly never even held a male soldier's hand. Just the thought of marrying someone that uptight made him feel suffocated. So Joe pulled every trick he could think of to sabotage the marriage before it ever happened.

I lapse into unconsciousness for a few days after a high fever. When I wake up, I see my boyfriend and his best friend standing by my bed. I want to enliven the atmosphere, so I joke, "Who are you?" Eric Cobb, my boyfriend, is taken aback. I almost laugh at the look on his face. Then, he points at his friend, Jonah Mullen. "Don't you remember? Your boyfriend's been panicking over you. As his best friend, I have to be here with him." This time, I'm the one who's taken aback. Unexpectedly, Jonah steps forward and says, "That's right. I'm your boyfriend, Jonah Mullen."

When I died with a smile on my face, right before my brother's eyes, he looked as if the anguish might tear him apart. Yet, for twenty-one years, he hadn't stopped wishing I would meet this exact end. It all traced back to my fifth birthday—the day I had innocently hoped our parents would come home from their business trip to celebrate with me. They rushed back that night but never made it. A car accident took both their lives. From that moment on, my brother resented me, despised me. He didn't just stand idly by as our cousin snatched up my work as her own; he encouraged it. And when my landlord threw me out, it wasn't a random cruelty—it was my brother pulling the strings. All he had ever wanted, from the very beginning, was to see me die a miserable death. But when he finally got his wish… why did he cry, pleading for me to come back, begging me to call him 'brother' one last time?

In this life, I told my father I didn't want to marry Leon Williams. I'd rather marry his half-brother instead. My father was shocked—after all, everyone in town knew I had been obsessed with Leon for ten whole years. But in my previous life, I only discovered the truth as I lay dying in childbirth: the baby I carried wasn't even mine. It belonged to Leon and the struggling medical student he'd been secretly funding. The cruelest part? They conceived it using the drug I had developed. After my death, the three of them lived happily ever after as one perfect little family. So in this life, I'm willingly stepping aside for them. I'm curious to see how their love affair works out without my drug. What I never expected was Leon's reaction when he saw his brother's ring on my finger—he completely lost it.

After my engagement to Simon Page, he secretly planned a trip abroad with Yara Watson, the woman he had loved for years. The day before their departure, he was chatting with his friends and Yara in the lounge of a golf club. "Simon, you just got engaged, and you're already taking Yara on a trip. Aren't you afraid Rosalyn will find out?" Simon scoffed. "I hired a guy to pose as her suitor. He’ll keep her so occupied that she won’t have time to bother me. "If something really happens between them, even better. I can use it as an excuse to officially end the engagement and be with Yara openly." Standing outside the door, I trembled as his words sank in. Tears streamed down my face as I looked at the handsome man behind me, his expression filled with guilt. "Then let’s grant him his wish and get married." But just as I was preparing for the wedding, Simon suddenly knelt before me in agony. "Rosalyn, I was wrong. Please, don’t marry him!"

My buddy, Jayden Jenkins, has come over to my place again to mooch a free meal. It is scorching hot outside, and I am sweating over the stove in the kitchen. Meanwhile, Jayden is lounging in the air-conditioned living room. After biting the tip off a strawberry, he pulls my wife, Willow Simpson, into his arms and casually pops the rest into her mouth. "Here, Willow. Help me finish it," he says with a wicked grin. "It's rare enough that this cheap bastard Caius finally buys strawberries. Now he'll complain that I wasted one if I don't finish it." I wipe the sweat from my forehead and glance toward the living room, just in time to see Willow swallow the half-eaten strawberry. The thing is, she is a serious germaphobe. We've been married for years, and even kissing me is something she rarely allows. I remember another sweltering evening. After playing basketball, I bought a Coke and offered her the half-finished cup. "Willow, you must be thirsty. Here, take a sip. It's nice and cold. It'll cool you down." She slapped the cup away and snapped, "Caius, do you have any idea how many kinds of bacteria are in saliva? Don't ever do something that disgusting again." On that crowded field, people stared at our exchange, some barely hiding their amusement. I froze, my hand still hovering near her forehead as I tried to wipe away her sweat. I knew I would never forget the humiliation I felt in that moment. But I told myself she was simply distant and hard to please. Again and again, I reminded myself not to be so sensitive and to respect her boundaries. Turns out, that wasn't the case. She can set aside her fear of germs. She just isn't willing to do it for me.

My husband secretly swapped the transplant recipient, giving the kidney that was meant for our daughter to the daughter of the woman he had always loved. Not long after, our daughter's condition worsened. The doctors tried to save her, but it was no use. She didn't make it. At the same time, the other girl's surgery was a success. My husband was so overjoyed that he handed out little gifts to the entire hospital in celebration. Rage and grief overwhelmed me, and I collapsed. When I came to, the doctors told me I had cancer. Late-stage. My time was running out. With nothing left to hold on to, I walked out of the hospital, clutching the urn that held my daughter's ashes. In the cold, empty house, I sat alone and drafted the divorce papers.

The pills I keep by my bedside have been swapped with vitamins. I almost die after getting a heart attack. After the stent surgery, I ask my husband, Evan Whitmore, to find out who did it. I just want the truth. However, he doesn't even look up and just brushes me off. "It was just a mistake. Cecilia probably grabbed the wrong bottle. She bought those vitamins for me. "Don't push this. She has asthma. She can't handle stress." I stare at him in shock, my chest tightening. I can't tell if the pain is from my healing heart or from the words he just threw at me. Cecilia Monroe is his secretary, and he always takes her side. That moment is when I realize that our five years of marriage mean nothing to him at all.

I sat at the table, watching the food grow cold, much like my heart. Today was my birthday. It was also Leslie Buck's birthday—Katherine White's childhood sweetheart. I unlocked my phone and opened Leslie's social media page. As expected, a new post awaited me. "Grateful to have you by my side for every birthday. Let's keep our promise to celebrate every one of them together in the future!" The photo showed two hands forming a heart in front of a cake. One of them was Katherine's. I could tell from the bracelet she wore. It was the one I had given her. I gave the post a like, then set my phone aside. Without hesitation, I dumped the dishes Katherine liked into the trash and went out to a restaurant to order the food I liked, celebrating my birthday alone. From now on, I would make sure to enjoy every birthday of mine.

My boyfriend, Aiden Ramsey, loses a game of Truth or Dare during a party. Someone dares him to say ten good things about my best friend, Natalia Williams. Aiden doesn't hesitate at all when he answers, "She's pretty, bubbly, has a great figure, knows how to play coy, loves to smile, has a high EQ, is independent, and has a good sense of aesthetics. Also, she's very good at making other people happy." Natalia picks Aiden again in the next round. She smiles and says, "Tell us about Sylvia's good qualities." Aiden is stunned for a few seconds as he looks at me. In the end, he finally answers, "She's understanding." Someone smiles and tries to smooth over the situation by asking, "What else?" Aiden frowns, seeming to be deep in thought. However, he's unable to come up with another good thing about me. A wave of exhaustion suddenly washes over me as the awkward silence stretches on. Aiden and I have been dating for seven years. We're going to get married soon. However, even after mulling over his thoughts for such a long time, the only good thing that he can say about me is that I'm understanding. I decide that I'm not going to be understanding anymore.

When my son asked me about his father while crying once again, I pointed at the television. Samuel Shaw, who had just made it into the top three of the wealth rankings, was being interviewed. He said he had achieved fame and success, and the person he hated most was his childhood sweetheart and ex-wife. “She abandoned me when I was gravely ill, all for the sake of money. But it was that very betrayal that pushed me to rise from the ashes in my darkest hour.” The reporters grew excited and suggested contacting me on the spot. "She must be filled with regret, begging Mr. Shaw to take her back!" My phone rang right then. I answered and immediately asked for money. "Samuel, my son is sick. Could you lend me sixty thousand dollars?" He abruptly hung up the phone and said with a cold laugh, "Knowing she's living so miserably gives me peace of mind." Looking at the kidney failure report in my hand, I silently wept. Six years ago, I secretly donated one of my kidneys to Samuel. Now, his son was suffering from the same disease and didn't have much time left.

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?"

I've always been a goody-two-shoes. The boldest thing I've ever done is falling in love with my older brother's friend, Oliver Anderson. The day Oliver finds out about my feelings for him, he's left feeling shell-shocked for a long time. But in the end, he still agrees to become my boyfriend. I thought we loved each other. But Oliver sends me a video featuring him and another young woman on my birthday. In the video, they did everything a couple can possibly do. At the end of the video, Oliver glances at the camera casually while smoking. "Vera, this is my gift for you. Never trust a man this easily." That's when I feel my confidence getting smashed into smithereens. That's why when Oliver and that woman show up in front of me, I give up on pursuing him once and for all.

Cecilia Jones kept a forgiveness notebook. Six months ago, on Cecilia's birthday, Jeff Lawrence abandoned her to meet Yvonne Smith. It was the 93rd time she’d forgiven him. Three months prior, when Yvonne mentioned she was allergic to cat dander, Jeff gave away the cat Cecilia had raised for years. Cecilia forgave him for the 94th time. One month ago, Jeff got drunk and woke up in the same bed as Yvonne. He insisted that nothing had happened and accused Cecilia of having a dirty mind. Cecilia forgave him for the 95th time.

Everyone in the city knew that James Frost loved me and our son to bits. When I suggested stargazing, James spent millions to create a meteor shower. As my son loved riding carousels, James built the biggest amusement park and named it after him. He was never stingy when it came to doting on us, and it was only natural he brought in the best doctors to save me when my son and I were caught in a car crash. I fought to stay conscious and asked him to save our son first, only for him to tell me tearfully that our son had died while being transported to the hospital. Devastated, my mind caved, and I passed out. When I woke up, I overheard the doctor asking James, "Why did you stop us, Mr. Frost? We could have saved your son!" "Stan is only alive to save the son I had with Sue," James replied nonchalantly. "If he was alive, how would I ever transplant his heart without legal repercussions? "I've been plenty kind to him and Wanda over the years—it's time they repay me." So everything he did for me and Stan was just a trade—for Stan's heart. That meant he was responsible for the suffering Stan and I were put through as well! In that case, I would let him have his wish!

Even though it's been three years since we held our weddings, Adrian Johnson refuses to get our marriage registered. I overhear him venting to his best friend after he gets drunk. "Colleen got kidnapped before. I keep thinking of her as a tainted woman. Plus, her family has already gone into bankruptcy. She has no idea that my company is about to get listed." I feel my blood turn into ice in my veins. His confession leaves my feet rooted to the spot. Then, Adrian pulls a woman into his arms before kissing her belly. That woman is Rosalind Muller, the young and beautiful bar singer. I'm still dazed when I receive a text on my phone. It's a photo of Rosalind's pregnancy bump. The caption writes, "You're just a tainted woman. How can you ever compare to me?" What Adrian doesn't know is that I never got kidnapped three years ago. At that time, I had carried out a top-secret rescue mission as a secret agent. Soon, I text my dad. "Dad, where's your island? Can you send a helicopter over to pick me up?" On the day I leave Adrian once and for all, it's time for my mysterious identity and the truth from three years ago to be revealed.

After my husband's first love, Sydney Edwards, used me as a walking blood bank, I died in the run-down rental apartment my billionaire husband, Casper Hawthorne, had tossed me into like it was a blessing for me. Today was the third day since I had died. My six-year-old son, Adam, finally realized something was wrong. He had cut his finger while playing with his toys, yet I did not comfort him. He tore open a packet of crackers and raised one to my mouth to feed me, but I did not stop him. He lay in my arms, clutching my clothes and whispering for me. Still, I did not answer. Lost and panicking, he found my phone and called his father, Casper. "Dad, why is Mom still sleeping?" The man sent back a photo of himself having New Year's Eve dinner with Sydney and said in a cold voice, "She's just sleeping, she's not dead. Today is New Year's Eve. I'm busy. Tell that clueless mom of yours that when she's ready to admit she was wrong, she can come and look for me." After the call ended, Adam stood there frozen for a long time. He picked up the last biscuit in the rental apartment from the trash can, broke it in half, and held one piece to my mouth. "Mom, let's eat too."

After a car accident left me with amnesia, a woman claiming to be my girlfriend proposed to me in the most heartfelt way. Everyone around me said I'd been waiting for this moment for seven whole years and urged me to just say yes. In my past life, I nodded along without thinking twice. Her childhood best friend, who turned out to be the long-lost biological son of my parents, ended up going with them to Neller City—and completely leapfrogged into a whole new social class. As for me, I followed Estelle Camden back to her hometown and became just some ordinary guy from the countryside. Cooking, doing laundry, taking care of her bedridden father—I did it all, for thirty years straight. But Estelle left to find work in the city just a year after we got married, and she'd only come back once every few years. The money she sent was barely enough to keep a beggar going. It wasn't until I lay wasted away on my deathbed, barely clinging to life, that I finally saw the truth in her cold, calculating eyes. She let out a sigh of relief and confessed, "The couple who came looking for their child back then—they were your real parents. They're worth hundreds of millions. But you? You're so ordinary—what right did you have to that kind of life? So I gave the DNA test to Derek instead. "Derek is handsome and clever. He deserves the good life way more than you do." When she saw the rage burning in my eyes, she just gave a careless little smile. "You know, sometimes I actually felt guilty looking at you. But now, you're finally about to die—so I guess that's one less thing weighing on my conscience." Right after she said that, I coughed up a mouthful of blood and died, seething with regret. When I opened my eyes again, I was back in that hospital bed—and Estelle was asking me to marry her.

On my wedding day, the first love of my boyfriend appeared and declared she wanted my place at the altar. Sobbing theatrically, she pleaded, "Claire, I’m seriously ill. You have your whole life to be with Evan. Just let me have this wedding." And my boyfriend backed her up without hesitation. "Claire, you’re already pregnant with my child, and we’ve signed the marriage papers. You’ve got everything you need. This wedding? It doesn’t matter." The guests gawked, while I stood there as the punchline of their jokes. But instead of causing a scene, I kept my composure. That same day, I booked an abortion and looked his first love straight in the eye with a smile. "Sure, take the wedding, and take him too. He’s all yours."