Nouvelles Melodramatic Romance & Romans Scumbag

Max Siegel loved me deeply and promised me the grandest wedding anyone had ever seen. However, just three days before the big day, everything changed. The custom-made wedding dress he'd ordered for me was given to his stepsister, Fawn Lewis, and instead, he handed me a pill—one that could erase memories. “Kate,” he said, “I don’t want to hurt you, but Fawn has just been diagnosed with terminal cancer. She doesn’t have long. Her last wish is to marry me. I can’t have her leave this world with regrets. “This pill will make you forget everything about us for a few days. But don’t worry. After the wedding is over, I’ll give you the antidote, and you’ll remember everything again. Then, I’ll give you the wedding you deserve.” His tone left no room for negotiation. Without hesitation, I took the pill and swallowed it. However, what he didn’t know was that I developed that drug myself, and there was no antidote. Three days from now, I would forget the man I loved most—him. And once that happens, there’s no turning back and no chance to start over.

My fiancé, Everett Prescott, spent five whole years designing my wedding dress, and it finally arrived today. Except I couldn't zip it up. It stayed wide open until my best friend, Sienna Hart, slipped into the dress perfectly. The fabric hugged her curves like a second skin. She turned to my fiancé with an exasperated sigh. "Everett, are you serious? You got Leah’s size wrong. Again." My blood ran cold. Over the five years Everett and I had been together, this wasn't the first time he'd conveniently forgotten my measurements. When he bought me pajamas that were a size too small, he just blinked, flashing that easy grin of his. "Oh, wait. I think this is Sienna's size, right? Let's just give it to her. I'll buy you another set." When my engagement ring turned out to be too small, he scratched the back of his neck and shrugged. "My bad. Well, we already bought it, so we might as well give it to Sienna. Lucky her." Our wedding was in two days, and once again, he got the measurements dead wrong. Everett rubbed his nose, giving a weak laugh. "Totally my fault, babe. My bad. I'll just take it back to the shop and get it altered." "Everett, altering a custom wedding dress takes at least six months," I said, my voice barely a whisper. He offered a helpless smile. "Well, you can't exactly walk down the aisle without a dress, right? Don't worry about it. As soon as the dress is altered, we'll have the wedding immediately. We've already waited five years. What's another six months?" Right then, my phone buzzed in my palm. [Sweetheart, the guy you have an arranged marriage with is flying back into the country in two days. I don't care what excuse you have this time. You’re coming home and marrying him!] I stared at the screen for a long time before replying: [Got it. I'll be there.] I spent five long years waiting around for this wedding. I'm not waiting another six months.

Ever since the couples' account Sean Deaver and I run together has gone viral, my biggest dread has been filming our daily videos. On camera, Sean and my best friend, Jodie Steele, act like the perfect couple. They're always over each other, while I'm not even allowed to show so much as a hand. In the first year, Sean wipes the cream from the corner of Jodie's mouth, then pops his finger straight into his mouth. When I confront him, he simply pinches my cheek and flashes me an indulgent smile. "Aw, someone's jealous," he coos. "It's all for the cameras, babe. Don't make a big deal out of nothing." The following year, Sean takes on a challenge to sneak ten kisses on his girlfriend while they eat without getting caught. When I question him about it, he answers so smoothly that it's as though he's rehearsed his excuse in advance. "Babe, this challenge is huge right now. It'll bring tons of traffic to our account." This year, they've promised to finally set the record straight. But just as we are about to put an end to the charade, they sign on for a dating reality show. When the host eggs them on to kiss, Sean leans down in front of everyone and plants a very real kiss on Jodie's lips. Afterward, they come to comfort me. "Sasha, it was all ed. Don't let it get to you." I've always believed that getting married would finally put an end to this suffocating life. But Sean hesitated. "The show's getting great numbers now," he says, holding up his phone. "The producers want us to ride the hype and stage a fake wedding over the next few days. It'll make our account even bigger." I look at the countdown I've been keeping track of. It was day 1,825. I nod in silence, and Sean reaches out to ruffle my hair. "I knew you'd understand. Once filming wraps, I'll marry you for real. I promise." "Forget it," I say, simply brushing his hand away. "Sean, I'm done with you."

The night before the design competition, my husband took my design draft, promising to secure a patent to protect my work. In the intense competition, my work stood out and won first place. During the award ceremony, I walked on stage wearing the necklace that my daughter and I had made together. Suddenly, my seven-year-old daughter rushed up to the stage, screaming, "Mom, how could you steal Veronica's necklace? That's horrible and embarrassing. Just come down and go home with me."

Shawn Bryant had touch starvation, yet he never let me touch him so much as accidentally. We'd lived together for four years, and every night he fell asleep with his arms wrapped around a goose plush toy. "Holding it simulates an embrace," he told me once. "It gives me a sense of security. It calms my nerves." I curled into his arms and pouted. "Isn't holding me the same thing?" He gently pushed me away and rolled over to hug the goose instead. "Don't start. Bebe's soft. It's comfortable to hold." One time I threw the goose in the washing machine, and Shawn lost his temper completely. "What if it's ruined now?" I didn't think much of it. "So we'll buy another one." "You don't understand anything!" He didn't speak to me for days after that. While he was in the shower, I snuck a look at his phone, hoping to find where he'd bought Bebe so I could replace it and make peace. His screen was still open to a chat thread. Every message in it had an exclamation point beside it, marking it as unsent. Shawn: [Holding Bebe is like holding you.] Shawn: [I can't sleep at all without you.] Shawn: [Cynthia, when are you finally coming back?] The last message had been sent the day before. The exclamation point beside it was gone, and a reply sat underneath it, glaring up at me. Cynthia: [This time it was a hug. What about next time?] My mind went blank. I looked at the goose lying on the bed and suddenly found the whole thing pointless. Shawn, if you were never going to let anyone actually touch you, then I'm done trying to be the one.

My boyfriend abandoned me at the altar on the day of our wedding to accompany his childhood sweetheart, who was about to give birth as a single mother. Faced with the sarcastic looks thrown at me by the guests, I took off my wedding veil and headed to the hospital to confront him. I saw him holding her baby in his arms with love in his eyes. She asked him on purpose, "It's your wedding today, Sean. What if Riley gets mad at you for accompanying me during labor?" "I can get married anytime, but having a baby is a once-in-a-lifetime event. I'd be worried sick if I left you alone in the hospital.” "From this day onward, I'll be the baby's father. I won't let you both be bullied by anyone." I ended up marrying another man, but he crashed our wedding like a madman, begging me for another chance.

When a turbulence strikes an airplane that's tens of thousands of miles above ground, the pilot, Kevin Glover, uses the opportunity to confess his love for the co-pilot, Serena Burke. Both of them come clean about their feelings for each other, not knowing that Kevin's wife, Henley Johnstone is on the plane as well. The brimming affection in Kevin's tone hurts her ears. "Serena, I'll marry you." At the same time, Henley's son, Isaac Glover, who sits in the row in front of her, pipes up in a disgusted tone, "My mom isn't worthy of remaining as my mom. I want Serena to be my mom instead." Henley feels crushed and defeated. Sorrow overwhelms her senses as well. Once the plane overcomes the crisis and lands on the tarmac, she calls her assistant, Edith Pratt. "I want to sign up as the test subject of the death-faking pill. I don't want my husband and son anymore." Henley sets the date of her death on her wedding anniversary. Once all preparations are done, she takes the death-faking pill. When she wakes up, she'll embrace her new life. Some time later, when Kevin finds out about Henley's death, he wails like a madman.

Alyssa Lambert, the only daughter of the world's wealthiest family, falls in love with Justin Fuller, a poor man whose company went bankrupt and is burdened with billions in debt. In the third year of concealing her identity to stay by his side, Justin finally pays off all his debts, starts a new company, and makes his debut on the Nova Exchange. As Alyssa watches his confident figure on stage, she thinks it's time to reveal her true identity. When she arrives outside the private room booked for the celebratory banquet, she happens to overhear the lively chatter inside. "Justin, Alyssa has faithfully stayed by your side for three years and was even willing to live in a basement with you. Now that you've paid off your debts and the company is publicly listed, isn't it time to propose to her?" "Yeah! When the company was just starting up, and you had no money to hire people, Alyssa practically split herself into three and only slept four hours a day. She even took the initiative with every difficult deal. Where else would you be able to find such a great girlfriend? You'd better marry her soon!" Alyssa's hand freezes on the doorknob, and she feels a wave of unease creep over her. She had hinted about marriage before, but each time, Justin dodged the question by saying he still couldn't provide her with a good life. Now that the company went public, would he… finally bring up the topic of marriage? "I haven't forgotten the kindness Aly has shown me these past three years. I also believed she was the one for me, but…" Justin leans back on the couch with a glowing cigarette between his fingers. Everyone's gaze is fixed on him, while outside the door, Alyssa feels her heart skip a beat. "Claudia is back."

I had always been too meek by nature. If anyone bullied me, I would just hide and cry. Samson Parkson, my boyfriend, pitied me whenever I was treated unfairly, but whenever he wanted to stand up for me, I would just tell him to forget it. However, Susan Marsh, his childhood friend, would say, “I understand, girl. I was once a manipulative person as well. If I cried just a bit, other people would end up as the bad guy. “There were plenty of girls going after Samson before. You used your tears to become his girlfriend, right?” I turned to Samson, feeling lost, but he just smiled, unbothered. “That’s how Susan speaks. She has no ill will.” Because of what he said, Susan started targeting me in all sorts of ways. One time, we met up for food, and she intentionally splashed water on me. Feeling embarrassed, I went to grab some napkins, but she laughed loudly and mockingly. “Samson, look at your girlfriend’s tricks. She’s making everyone think that I splashed water on her, and she wore such thin clothes too. “It’s all so that she can show off her figure.” Samson had been thinking about covering my body with his jacket, and when he heard this, his face fell. The gathering ended on an unhappy note. After that, I tried my best to avoid meeting Susan. However, she accused me of being a loner and brought her friends to my house. After we had food together, Samson noticed that my matching ring was gone from my ring finger, and Susan pulled it out of her pocket. “Seriously? If you don’t want me here, just say it. How could you try to accuse me of being some thief? If there’s really something going on between Samson and me, you wouldn’t even be in the picture. It’s seriously lame for you to do this.” Samson rarely flew into a rage, but this time, he did. “Mindy, apologize to Susan.” When I saw that he was sure that I had done wrong, I felt a chill down my spine, and I felt that there was no longer any need for us to continue this relationship.

When my fiance, Kai Vaughn, and my best friend, Eliana Sinclair, drug me and drag me into the penthouse suite of the richest man in the capital, I breathe a sigh of relief. "At long last, I'm home." Kai assumes I've lost my mind under the threat of impending doom and viciously grips my chin. "Our company's survival depends on this project, you bitch! I hear there's a woman Mr. Harlan has never gotten over, even after all these years, and your face just happens to look a little like hers. "You'd better serve him well. Once we secure the project, I might even be generous enough to give you some money!" Eliana covers her mouth and giggles beside him. "That's right. You should thank your lucky stars that you get to serve Mr. Harlan. Don't be ungrateful!" When the drug takes effect, I'm violently shoved through the gilded doors. No one notices that as I lean back against the leather couch, my eyes are filled with mockery. The ruthless, cold-blooded Mr. Harlan Kai and Eliana are talking about—the man who treats his substitute lovers as nothing more than playthings—is actually my biological father, Tristan Harlan. Today, they've personally delivered me right back to Dad's side. Tomorrow, they'll learn what it means to live a life worse than death.

Seven years with Luke Bates, and he still can't remember that I have a seafood allergy. Yet he treats that faded lucky charm locket in his car like a sacred treasure. Inside lies a note that says, "May God bless that specific someone with top marks. If it works, I'll go vegan for three months." Luke calls it a prank by his high school buddy and tells me not to get jealous over nothing right before we register our marriage. I believe him, happily pouring my heart into planning our wedding. Then comes today. I accompany him back to his hometown for a banquet, only for a woman in a floral dress to burst through the door with tears pooling in her eyes. The elders pulled her over, their faces full of concern. "Phoebe, you must be exhausted from that pilgrimage. Come, sit next to Luke." A few drinks in, someone speaks, slurring their words. "Remember when Phoebe casually mentioned praying for a favor? Luke went vegan with her and ended up with a stomach ulcer." I take a quiet sip of juice, listening in silence. It turns out the charm locket that has hung in his car for seven years wasn't for a buddy at all. It's for his first love.

I was a wedding planner, and I personally designed my husband's wedding to his mistress. I had been with Victor for five years. Three of those years were swallowed by the pandemic. The remaining two were spent married, pregnant, and raising a child. The wedding I had always dreamed of existed only as "next time" whenever it came out of his mouth, until the day I received a new wedding planning request. The client was a young woman, her eyes curved with laughter, her smile bright and full of hope. "This is the venue my boyfriend chose himself," she said softly. "He insisted the wedding had to be held here." I took the file from her, and my gaze stopped on the venue name. The church in Clairmont. The very church I had mentioned to my husband countless times, the place I had dreamed of more than anything else. I was just about to smile and marvel at how someone in this world shared my taste so perfectly when the groom's name leapt into view. Victor Langford. My fingers froze on the page. Across from me, the girl was still wrapped in her happiness. She added gently, "We've only been together for two months, but he said he wants to give me the best wedding possible." I curved my lips into a smile and fixed my eyes on that familiar face—the man I had lived with for five years. After all this time, the day I planned Victor's wedding had finally arrived. Too bad the bride wasn't me.

Maren Reeves, my best friend, suddenly told me she'd gotten back together with her ex. I tore into her for going back to a man who'd already hurt her, but she only gave me a bitter smile. "Maybe some people are just destined to keep getting tangled up with each other. Renee, I don't need your validation. I just don't want you to be mad at me." At the time, I didn't understand what Maren really meant. I thought she was only worried I'd get worked up over that jerk again. Seeing the conflict on her face, I couldn't bring myself to keep scolding her. I simply hugged her and told her not to settle for anything that made her unhappy. Then, a year later, I went to the hospital because of severe menstrual cramps and unexpectedly saw her leaving the maternity ward. Confused, I was about to approach her when a man hurried over, carefully helping her along and fussing over her every need. In an instant, I instinctively ducked behind the corner, my entire body trembling uncontrollably. Because that man was none other than Isaiah Cole, my husband of three years.

My husband, Ezra, and I had been married for four years. Every year for the past four years, he would disappear for three days at the same time and transfer a large sum of money out of his bank account. I suspected he was doing it for an unforgettable ex. Yet, no matter how hard I investigated, I couldn’t find a single clue. “I don’t have any exes worth hiding from you," Ezra once told me. “Olivia, can you please stop digging into this?” That was until this past weekend, when I went to deliver an early birthday present to Nina—a young woman I had been financially supporting for eight years. The moment I inserted my key into the lock, I heard Ezra’s voice coming from inside. “It’s your birthday tomorrow, but I can only stay with you for half the day this time. We can’t afford to make her suspicious again.” Nina chuckled. “Olivia hasn’t suspected me at all. What are you so afraid of?” Outside the door, I held the gift in my hands, tears streaming down my face. My intuition had been right all along. The only difference was that he was cheating on me with the person I had personally funded and cared for over the last eight years. I knew right then that our four-year marriage was over.

After her boyfriend bailed on their wedding, my best friend broke down crying and begged my fiance to step in and save the day. Blake Keller comforted me gently. "Dawn, Noelle and I grew up together. We've been close for years—closer than family, honestly. Today is just for show. Besides, our wedding's next week anyway, so think of it as a rehearsal in advance." I felt terrible for my best friend. After struggling with myself for a long time, I finally gritted my teeth and nodded. Just like that, I watched with my own eyes as my boyfriend, who was supposed to be the best man, became my best friend's "groom." At the wedding, Blake held Noelle's hand, his eyes filled with affection. When the officiant asked whether he was willing, he answered even more firmly than he had when he proposed to me. I kept telling myself not to take it seriously, that it was just an act and I should not overthink it. That was what I believed—until after they exchanged rings. The officiant smiled and said, "You may now kiss the bride." The crowd instantly started cheering, urging them to kiss. Blushing, Noelle hurriedly reassured me. "Dawn, don't worry. We'll fake it with the camera angle." I believed her. But in the very next second, Blake lifted her chin and deeply kissed her for real in front of everyone.

My boyfriend, Yale Carter, was famously frugal. Everyone knew him as a world-class cheapskate. A five-cent price hike was enough to get my favorite chicken legs permanently crossed off the grocery list. If I got sick, his solution was hot water. And when we decided to get married, he refused to pay the small fee for our marriage license because it was apparently money we couldn't afford to waste. So we waited. When the fee was finally waived, I put on the dress he'd bought me only because it was on sale and showed up at City Hall two hours early, ridiculously excited to finally make things official. That excitement lasted until I saw him by the lake with Yvonne Chandler, the assistant he'd hired six months earlier. They'd been stopped by a street photographer charging $20 a picture, which should have ended the conversation immediately. This was a man who'd stopped buying me chicken over five cents. I fully expected him to tell her the price was insane and walk off. Instead, he turned to Yvonne. "You know, we never took any pictures together back in school. Want to get one?" "At $20?" Yvonne waved a hand. "Forget it." When the photographer mentioned a discount for multiple shots, my boyfriend took out his phone and made a transfer of $2,000. "No discount necessary. Just take a hundred pictures of us. We'll make an album." I watched the whole photo shoot from a distance. A hundred pictures of the two of them standing close, posing together, completely at ease with each other. By the time they were done, the two hours I'd spent waiting were up. It was officially the time my boyfriend and I had agreed to meet. My phone lit up with a message from him. [I checked. The license is free, but there are still ten bucks in processing fees. Why waste the money? We could put that toward dinner. Getting married is just a formality anyway. We don't need a license to spend the rest of our lives together.] I quietly typed out a reply and hit send. [Okay. Then let's not get married.] I didn't want him anymore, either.

I am an AI holographic image creator. After creating a holographic image of a deceased son for a grieving parent who has lost his only child, I gain a modest following online. Every day, people message me privately, asking me to create holographic images and videos of their deceased loved ones. Occasionally, I pick out a few requests and help them fulfill their wishes. One day, as I browse through my messages, a profile picture catches my attention. "Can you create a holographic image of my late girlfriend in a wedding dress? Her dying wish was to marry me, and I promised her I would give her a grand wedding." I stare at the profile picture, feeling a little light-headed. It is a small black mongrel with a white-tipped tail, exactly like the dog my fiancé, Holden Sinclair, has had for ten years. I reply, "Do you have any photos of her?" The sender seems to have been waiting for my reply and responds almost immediately. "No, but I have a friend who looks a lot like my girlfriend. You can use her appearance and figure to recreate my late girlfriend." Then he sends me a photo. My phone suddenly feels like it weighs a ton, and I can barely hold on to it. It's a photo of me.

It all started because my daughter, Joy Harrell, threw a tantrum wanting to go to the amusement park. On the way there, we got into an accident that left my wealthy husband, Brian Harrell, paralyzed in both legs, unable to ever stand again. As punishment, he slashes our daily allowance to a mere ten cents, and Joy and I are forced to survive by scavenging through trash and even fighting wild dogs for food. One day, dizzy with hunger, Joy eats some cookie crumbs that the family doctor, Aurora Bradley, drops on the floor. She does so out of sheer hunger and desperation. However, Brian immediately berates her for "stealing" and forces her to kneel outside in the pouring rain for ten hours before being allowed back inside the villa. Furious, I go to confront him, but instead I see his crippled legs standing tall, holding hands with Aurora as they waltz to the music. Brian's friend looks out the window and feels sorry for us, saying, "Look, Brian, your daughter's tantrum might have caused you to miss your last chance to see your first love ever again, but don't you think that you've already punished her and your wife long enough for that? "You even hired a stand-in to pose as a doctor in the house. Surely your anger has cooled off by now, right?" Brian scoffs and replies coldly, "They were thoughtless enough to ruin the seven-year pact I had with Dorothy. This punishment is nothing—in fact, it's way too light for them. "Don't you ever bring this up again. Only two more years of their punishment remain. Once it's over, I'll make it up to them properly." However, Brian doesn't know that I've been saving all of the good food I can ever get for Joy, and thus, I've developed terminal stomach cancer. In other words, I will never live to see the future. But I will also never let Joy stay by his side to suffer any longer.

Luna Smith was a famous tarot reader. When Dean Stark and I were going to register our marriage, she flashed three cards, saying that marrying this day would ruin his destiny and fortunes. Dean promptly called it off, and told me to wait a couple of days… which ended up being five years. When I got pregnant, she said that the child would be a jinx to its father, and I was hence forced to get an abortion… on four different occasions. When my mother was diagnosed with liver cancer, I begged Dean for $200,000 on my knees. Even before Dean said a word, Luna frowned and said, "Your mother and her family are jinxed. If the money changes hands, Dean's career will be over." Dean sighed as he pushed me away. "Death is inevitable. Just accept it." I finally went hysterical, but Luna slapped me across the face. "You're being hounded by jinxes. That's why things aren't going well for Dean lately!" Then, blushing as she turned to Dean, she said, "Just sleep with me once, and let your male vigor erupt to blow away the jinxes. That's the only way." Everyone else promptly told me to be understanding and think of the big picture, while Dean himself said, "I swear—this will happen only once, and I will close my eyes the whole time. "We will marry once it's over. You've waited a long time for this, right?" Hence, he scooped Luna up in his arms and strode into our bedroom. As everyone else laughed and cheered, I quietly left and took out my phone, texting the famous demon king ruling the city, "We should register our marriage today, as it says in the cards. Are you coming?"

"Your Highness, are you really going to secretly take blood from Miss Jerryton's heart and treat Miss Mullery with it?" The elderly imperial physician's hand that held the dagger trembled. The candlelight reflected the cold sweat on his forehead. Arrisa Jerryton lay on the bed. Her thin body sank into the luxurious quilt, and her face was as white as the first snow of winter. Louis Xavier spoke in a tone colder than the snow outside the palace. "Yes. I already fed her anesthetic powder. She is in a coma and will not wake up. Hurry up."