Plot Twists Romance Short Stories & Unattainable Love Novels

My girlfriend, Celia Winters, had her first love save her life before, so she promised to do three things for him. The first time, he called her away to ride the Ferris wheel with him when I was supposed to propose to my girlfriend. The second time, he asked her to accompany him to see the northern lights while I was ill and hospitalized. I had a crush on my girlfriend for eight years, so I endured all of this. It was not until our wedding that my girlfriend publicly admitted that she had not married the one she loved the most. She comforted me, "Zane, I'll have nothing to do with Shane anymore after this. Could you please forgive me again?" However, I did not want to endure it any longer. Since she had not married the right person, I would let her marry him!

My husband’s the only son of the richest man in Ivoneu. As for me, I’m an orphan. His parents objected to us being together. When I got pregnant, they got on a plane and came to collect us in person. After that, I posted a picture I took with my husband, captioned, [I’m so thankful for you. Our life is going to be perfect from now on.] Little did I know that the rich girl my husband had been dating online would confront me.  She beat me until I had a miscarriage, then she stepped on my belly and declared viciously, “You are a nasty seductress! That makes the baby inside you a bad seed, too! Purging the baby is my contribution to society! “It’s just a fetus, anyway. I have more than enough money to get away with it!”

My wife was eight months pregnant when she indulged her first love for the ninety-eighth time and let him run our child down with his car. My lawyer wife had promised me she'd bring him to justice, but in court, she suddenly changed her statement. "Mr. Quinn has a serious history of mental illness. His family will discipline him verbally, but he shouldn't be held criminally responsible." After the hearing, she shielded Caleb Quinn as he sobbed in public, then leaned close to my ear and said softly, "I promised you I'd only indulge him one hundred times. Let's just use up one chance. I can't watch him go to prison, can I?" I looked at my wife's flat stomach and felt calmer than I'd ever felt before. Then I nodded. She'd relied on that bet for six years, certain she could do anything. She'd forgotten there was only one chance left.

My boyfriend of eight years secretly plans the grand wedding I've always dreamed of. Just as I'm overwhelmed with joy, he sends me to a landslide zone to replace his true love. Turns out, the entire wedding is for her. Heartbroken, I walk away. But just as I enter the experimental site, a second landslide hits. At the wedding, he finally panics when news breaks that I've gone missing.

I had been married to Derek for six years, and we had a three-year-old son. He was poor, earning only $2,000 a month, but I had no complaints; I took care of everything at home for him. After getting dinner on the table for the whole family, I finally had a minute to check my phone. A video popped up on my feed: a twenty-two-year-old girl from a rural area whose hands, roughened by years of hard labor, looked like they belonged to a sixty-two-year-old woman. I looked down at my own hands, just as worn and scarred, and stared at them blankly before tapping into the comments. I expected people to feel bad for her. However, to my surprise, the comments section was flooded with a single sentiment: "Why would anyone marry a penniless loser?" One of the top-liked comments came from a couple; in their photo, they were pictured holding hands—fingers tightly intertwined—with the girl sporting a massive diamond ring. The accompanying caption read: "A man who truly loves you would never bear to let you suffer." I felt a pang of envy. Given the choice, who wouldn't want a glamorous life? As I was about to close the app, I accidentally tapped on the couple's photo, enlarging it. In the background, previously too blurry to make out, was a face I recognized. It looked exactly like my husband, Derek Sterling. I froze, and almost against my will, I tapped into the account's profile. Post after post of lavish photos of them together flooded my screen. And then I saw him clearly. The scar above his brow, the one he got when a shelf fell on him while protecting me, was still plainly visible. It was my husband. It was Derek.

As I was cleaning up the house, I noticed something had fallen out of the cabinet my wife always kept locked tight. I remembered Megan's constant warnings. "That cabinet holds all our family's important records. If anything gets lost, there's no getting it back. Just leave it alone and don't touch it." Worried something valuable might have fallen out, I rushed to pick it up. But what I found was a thick stack of remittance slips. From forty years ago to now, every month, my wife had been sending money to the same account. And that's when it hit me. My wife had been lying to me. The money I'd been pouring into this family had been flowing right out, into the hands of someone else.

The medication I kept at the company had been switched, resulting in me suffering from acute kidney failure. After the emergency surgery, I asked my wife, Rebecca Little, to thoroughly investigate the company's employees. Instead, I discovered she had already deleted the surveillance footage from that day. When I confronted her, she brushed me off coldly. "I found the person responsible. He wanted to turn himself in, but I stopped him. Look, you're fine now, aren't you? Hendrix didn't do it on purpose. He's so young—if he went to jail, his life would be ruined. Let's just drop the matter, okay?" The person she was defending was none other than the male secretary, Hendrix Cannon, she had been flirting with lately. I was speechless. Nine years of love and trust disintegrated in an instant.

When we hiked deep in the mountains that day, my husband’s first love, Cindy Pepper, and I were both bitten by venomous snakes. Only one of us could be saved. There was only one dose of the antidote in the first-aid kit. Whoever received it would have a chance of surviving. At that critical moment, my husband, Gary Sapien, who was the head of the emergency department, injected the antidote into Cindy Pepper without hesitation. He also gave her the only stretcher and the satellite phone. “Cindy has a heart condition. She won’t make it down the mountain. You work out all the time, and you’re in good shape. I’m sorry, but you’ll have to wait a little longer.” A torrential downpour cut off the mountain. No one rescued me until the following afternoon. By then, the venom had already spread throughout my body. My right leg was necrotic, my kidneys had failed, and I had no choice but to undergo an amputation high above the knee. Gary signed the surgical consent form on my behalf. His expression was still detached. “It’s only a leg. You can still live a normal life with a prosthetic. “You’re already my wife. You don’t need both legs to make a living. Cindy, on the other hand, is a dance teacher. She can’t afford to lose her legs.” I swallowed the metallic taste of blood in my throat and let out a cold laugh. So, it looked like my life and my legs were worth less to him than Cindy’s dream of dancing. That night, I called a number I had not contacted in five years. “Tommy, I’m sorry. I lost. “Come take me home and withdraw all of our investments from Sapien Hospital. “Also, please get the divorce agreement ready for me.”

Before my wedding, I went to find my fiancé with a pregnancy test in hand, intending to surprise him. Instead, I overheard a heated argument between two men on the terrace. "My dear brother, didn't you personally send her to my bed just to get revenge for Elena?" The man, identical to my fiancé, twirled a USB drive in his hand, a wicked smirk playing on his lips. I had been with my fiancé for seven years, yet I had no idea he had a twin brother. What was worse, I never realized that during those passionate nights when I thought my fiancé was finally showing me affection, the man lying beside me was actually his twin. And all of this happened simply because their "savior" despised me. To repay his debt to her, my fiancé tacitly allowed this humiliation. It turned out that the love I had cherished for seven years was nothing more than a twisted game of revenge the brothers had orchestrated together, all to please another woman.

I spiked the drink of Daniel Falkner, Belcaster's big shot, three years ago. After that night of madness, he doesn't punish me. Instead, he takes my waist in his hands and drives into me until my legs go weak, calling me "princess", again and again. But just as I'm about to confess, Serena Jarman, the woman he never gets over, returns. For her sake, he lets me get hit by a car, makes me watch Mom's keepsake get left to a stray, and even throws me into jail with his own hands. By the time I'm shattered and boarding a flight to Velport to marry someone else, Daniel is tearing Belcaster apart just to find me.

Everyone says Brandon Foster loves me to the bone. I'm the only one who knows he has a secret lover—a poor student I once sponsored. On our wedding night, he brushed me off with the excuse of needing to entertain the guests. In truth, he was busy fooling around with her. Well, I don't care about that anymore. I have cancer, and my time is running out. I don't expect him and his lover to both lose their minds when they find out, though.

I accidentally wear the gown Miles Graham prepared for his childhood sweetheart. To my horror, he forces me to take it off in public. "I prepared this for Nora—do you think you're worthy of wearing it? Take it off! You're dirtying it!" He knows I have serious PTSD after almost being violated, yet he insults me with those words. I look at him tearfully and beg him not to say anymore. That's when the gown's zip bursts open. My PTSD acts up. I'm so overwhelmed that I collapse on the floor and have a seizure. Miles dismisses everyone and takes Nora out on a date. He leaves me lying there in humiliation. I call my mentor before being discharged from the hospital. "Ms. Gardner, I've decided to participate in the water conservation project in Affenheim."

I was once the best undercover agent in the police force. But during the final raid of my career, I was betrayed and killed by my husband's first crush. From that moment on, the world believed I was a traitor. My name, my honor, everything I had fought for, was erased. Now, even in death, I watched as they lived the life they stole from me. And I was left with one burning question: how had I ever fallen so far?

My fiancé’s first love and I fell down the stairs at the same time, and he chose to save her instead, leaving me to lie there in a pool of blood as I waited for an ambulance. On the brink of death, I begged him not to abandon me, and he only kicked my hand away, saying, “Elodie, can’t you show a little kindness? Don’t you see that Celeste is unconscious?! “…I’ll make sure you pay for this later!” ‘Later’, as he put it, didn’t come to pass. As he left with his first love in his arms, I died along with the baby inside my womb.

My husband, Caleb Price, and I, Sienna Hart, have been married for many years. Our relationship is going strong, and our son, Tobey, is thoughtful and kind. I've always believed we would spend our whole lives together. What I don't expect is that Caleb would hurt me and Tobey three times because of the same woman. The first time, we agree to celebrate Tobey's birthday, but Caleb forgets his promise because he has to pick up his first love, Lila Monroe, from the airport. When I return home from a business trip, all I find is my heartbroken son. The second time, Caleb secretly takes our son and Lila to the amusement park. He doesn't know that Tobey is allergic to peanuts, and he ends up in the hospital. The third time, Caleb repeatedly promises to pick Tobey up from school alone, but when Caleb hears that Lila is ill, he tells Tobey to go home by himself. On the way home, Tobey is kidnapped. After he's rescued, he spends three days in the hospital in critical condition before pulling through. Each time, Caleb apologizes with utmost sincerity and swears that there won't be a next time. Maybe he's forgotten, but I once told him that I'd only forgive him three times. So, when he finishes apologizing and thinks life will return to the happy days it was before… It doesn't. Yes, I forgive him, but I'm also taking Tobey and leaving him—forever.

My husband is cooking for his true love when his parents are abducted. I don't stop him from doing anything. Instead, I call the police. I've been reborn. In my past life, I stopped my husband from caring for his true love. In turn, he stopped his parents from leaving the house, helping them avoid a tragedy. However, his true love ended up getting an amputation after cutting her finger and getting a wound infection. My husband didn't blame me after the incident. His revenge only came a year later when I was almost due for labor. He tricked me to a remote cliff and pushed me off. "Nothing would've happened to Hailey if you hadn't stopped me that night! This is all your fault! Why is she the one who had to have an amputation? You're the one who deserves to die, you evil woman!" I rolled down the cliff while pregnant with his child and died a horrible death. This time, he leaves the house to care for his true love as he wishes. But when he returns, he falls to his knees in despair. He looks like he's aged a decade.

The day Stella Jameson was released early from prison for good behavior, my husband Samuel Xenos, who was always so calm and collected, lost control. He did everything he could to please Stella in her bed. He said that our marriage was nothing but fake. He never had any real feelings for me. And that lawsuit, for which he risked his life to win for me three years ago, was nothing but a complete setup. [Zara, the man you love most is just my dog. He comes whenever I call. He has always been like this. He’s no different from Victor back then.] That was the message Stella sent me to taunt me. I wiped my tears and prepared a big surprise for them.

After the college entrance exam results are released, my childhood best friend, Lucille Kirk, and I celebrate with our families at a five-star hotel. Over dinner, our parents talk about how nice it would be if we applied to the same university. That way, we can continue looking out for each other, just as we have while growing up. I glance across the table at Lucille and ask politely, "Lucille, which university are you planning to apply to?" The moment the words leave my mouth, a flood of comments suddenly flashes before my eyes. "Oh, here we go again. I bet this pathetic second male lead is planning to follow the female lead to the same university." "I feel so bad for the female lead. She's had to put up with this guy clinging to her for three whole years just to keep the peace between their families." "Don't worry. The female lead has already agreed to attend Aurelia University with the male lead, Sawyer Spencer. She's definitely going to name some school on the other side of the country just to get this guy off her back. I can't wait to see his face when she does!" Lucille stares at me, her brows furrowed. Then she lets out a cold, dismissive laugh. "Clement Carnegie, where I go has nothing to do with you. I'm applying to South Coast University, all the way across the country. That place isn't suitable for you." I meet her gaze and nod, as if I couldn't care less. Then I turn to the girl standing quietly in the corner of the private dining room, silently holding the Kirk family's coats and car keys. "Mabel, which university do you want to apply to?" I ask. "I want to go to the same one as you." The sneer on Lucille's face instantly freezes. Both our families stare at us in shock. None of them knows that the timid girl with the cheap hearing aid—the one Lucille constantly calls "dummy"—is actually the long-lost daughter of Aurelia's wealthiest family. They have been searching for her for 18 years. And all these years, the reason I keep showing up at the Kirk Manor has never been because I'm chasing Lucille. I only go there so I can see that "dummy" a little more often.

Three years after my death, my wife’s first love was hanging onto life by a thread, and only my system could save him. To force me to show up, she cut off my father’s medical payments. My sick mother was forced to beg her out in the summer heat until she collapsed. She even threw my beloved little sister into a bonfire to be eaten up by the flames. As she waited for me to show up, apologize to her, and use the system to save her first love, my sister finally stopped hiding the truth. “He died three years ago! Three years ago, he traded his life so you would survive that car crash!”

The tenth time one of my paintings appeared under my sister Rose's name, I handed Adrian the divorce papers. He raised an eyebrow and tossed the agreement aside without a second glance. "Don't be dramatic. Your hand is ruined -- where would you even go without me?" I said nothing. He smiled, his tone dripping with casual indifference. "You should be grateful. Rose was the one I was supposed to marry. A few paintings is a small price to pay. A little gratitude wouldn't kill you." He blew a ring of cigarette smoke directly into my face. I choked, and the sting brought tears to my eyes. Through the blur, I was transported back to the moment my tendons were severed for his sake -- a pain that had drilled straight to the bone. He thought I had no choice but to take it. What he didn't know was that I'd already accepted an offer from the Royal Academy of Arts in London. Soon, I would be free of him for good.