Plot Twists Romance Short Stories & Unattainable Love Novels

On the morning of our wedding, when Ethan Green came to pick me up, my bridesmaid Tessa stopped him at the door with three questions. "What mark on the bride's body would let you recognize the woman you love at a glance?" Ethan didn't even have to think. "A crescent moon on her right shoulder." The whole room went silent. Tessa gave an awkward cough and glanced at me on the edge of the bed. Because I didn't have a birthmark anywhere. The one with the crescent-moon birthmark on her right shoulder was my twin sister, Celina Linden, who'd stormed off to Paris four years ago. From age seven to 22, they were known all over New York for their love-hate relationship. During their worst fight, my sister dumped red wine over his head, and he smashed her favorite cello. The very next day, he scoured auction houses around the world for an identical one. They loved each other fiercely, but they were both wild and stubborn. Neither would back down. Four years ago, my sister left without a word to chase her freedom. To punish her for leaving him, Ethan proposed to me, the one who'd always carried messages between them. He said, "Then you marry me, Aria." For four years, I clung to that stolen marriage and made myself small. I learned to drink his espresso without sugar. I learned to iron every crease out of his shirts. Ethan snapped out of it and saw how pale I'd gone. He frowned and reached out to ruffle my hair. "Sorry, slip of the tongue. Aria, you've always been so understanding. Don't make a scene today of all days." I didn't throw a fit. I just smiled and set my bouquet back on the vanity. Ten minutes earlier, a flight from Paris had landed, and my sister had sent a message to the family group chat. "I'm back." What he didn't know was that I'd sent my suitcases to London by air the night before.

When the earthquake struck on what should have been our fourth wedding anniversary, my supposedly devoted and family-oriented husband, Lionel Brooks, abandoned me and our children, who were trapped under the rubble. Despite our children's pleas for help, Lionel left without a second thought, carrying his former flame, Fiona Smith, and her daughter to safety. While Fiona and her daughter escaped with minor injuries, my precious children had their chests pierced by steel beams, leaving this world forever. It was such a twisted fate. What was meant to be a day of celebration turned into an annual day of mourning for my beautiful children. A week later, during my children's funeral, Lionel had the audacity to call and ask which hospital the kids were in. It was laughable—after ensuring Fiona and her child were comfortable and safe, he finally found time to check on his flesh and blood. I could only say, "You finally remembered your children after a whole week? Lionel, I hope you rot in hell."

When Ethan Thamson was broke and struggling, his first love left him for a richer man who could give her the designer lifestyle she wanted. He spiraled until I found him unconscious on the side of the road and took him in. On my 18th birthday, our friendship became something more, and before long, we were inseparable. For the next eight years, I stayed by Ethan's side as he fought his way from a nobody on the streets to one of the most powerful men in the city. And through it all, Ethan treated me like I was the center of his world. Even after all these years, he still remembers the smallest things, like bringing me a heating pad and a warm drink whenever I have cramps. I never doubt his love—until I'm eight months pregnant and find an almost-empty box of condoms in his car. Ethan laughs it off. "I lent the car to Mason. I'll tell him to clean up after himself next time." After eight years together, I believe him. One month later, Vanessa Coleman, Ethan's first love, shows up at our door. She's pregnant. Vanessa pulls down her collar just enough to reveal the marks scattered across her skin and smiles. "Has Ethan ever wanted you this badly? In the past year alone, we've been together 108 times in hotels, 15 times in his car, and 18 times in the bed you share with him. "You were never the love of his life, Natalie. You were just the woman he used to get over me. "And now that I'm back, he doesn't need you anymore. So why are you still holding on?"

The day our daughter had a high fever, Matt was at a parent-teacher meeting for his first love’s son. I called him, only for her to pick up. Through sobs, she apologized, but Matt quickly grabbed the phone, his tone impatient. "She’s a single mom with a kid. What’s wrong with me looking out for them?" So, I turned to my daughter, who was quietly receiving her IV, and asked softly, "How about it, sweetheart? From now on, it’s just you and me."

To help her first love, Simon Ahern, win the sprint championship, my girlfriend, Cecelia Holt, deliberately locked me in the basement the night before the competition. She looked at me icily and said grimly, "How many times have you beaten him? So what if I give the championship to him?" Later, she even broke my legs to help him steal the national team selection spot. I desperately asked Cecelia why she treated me like this; I was her boyfriend after all. However, she retorted, "He accompanied me through the three years of depression. I must fulfill this wish for him." However, she had no idea that with my legs gone, I was no different from someone who had lost their life. When I stopped loving her, she knelt before me and begged me to give her another chance.

On our wedding day, Ethan got a call and bolted from the ceremony. Grandma was so furious she started coughing up blood, and everyone just watched. Not one person stepped in to help. I raced her to the hospital, but it was too late. She was gone before they even got her inside. Then, as I sat alone in the morgue, my phone lit up. It was Ethan. "Grace, get to the hospital. Bella's hurt and needs your blood!" "Ethan Carter, it's over between us." I ended the call, leaving the last pieces of my heart—and him—behind. Months later, he was on his knees in the pouring rain, begging for forgiveness, saying he'd do anything, give anything, if I'd only look back.

At the height of her ballet career, Sienna’s life was brutally shattered when her ex-boyfriend maliciously broke her legs. She fell into despair, and when she climbed to the rooftop to end it all, I was the one who saved her. I gave up a million-dollar salary for her sake. I spent ten years as her golden agent watching her starting from a background actor and becoming a superstar. When she reached the pinnacle of fame, she publicly declared her love for me. Our love story was hailed as the last fairy tale of the entertainment industry. I stood by her through her lows, and she held my hand through the glory. However, on the day I proposed… Her ex-boyfriend stormed in and publicly claimed that Sienna was carrying his child. His face was full of arrogance, and his eyes brimmed with provocation. “Every night, she throws herself at me like an animal. “You think she loves you? Her heart, her mind, it’s all mine.” I felt as if I had been struck by lightning. My mind went blank. I turned to Sienna. She pressed her lips together, remained silent and offered no explanation. At that moment, my heart shattered into pieces.

Three days before the wedding, I was cleaning out some old boxes when I remembered the time capsule Natasha Rowe and I buried ten years ago. When I mentioned it, her face stiffened for a moment. She quickly tried to talk me out of going. "It's been so long," she said. "Someone probably dug it up already." I didn't think much of it and went back to our old high school alone. At the spot where we buried it, I started digging. Instead of one box, I pulled out five metal containers of different sizes. Two of them were the ones Natasha and I buried ten years ago, their surfaces rusted and worn. But there were three others. One of them was just as rusted as ours. The other two looked almost brand new. The old extra box had a name scratched into the lid. Vince Houle. On it were the words, [My secret crush was a war I fought alone. Natasha, I hope you're happy.] I remembered him then. He had been a quiet guy who sat behind us in class. The kind of student no one really noticed. The two newer boxes had names carved into them, too. Natasha and Vince. The date etched into both of them was today. On Natasha's box were the words, [The greatest regret of my life is that I couldn't marry you.] On Vince's box were the words, [The greatest regret of my life is that I can't openly congratulate you on getting married.]

Megan Hurley orchestrated a bullying scheme to drive a wedge between me and my childhood friend, Eugene. I fell into her trap as she intended, but only saved Eugene Carson. The thugs she hired, however, proved reckless. As a result, she accidentally died. This enraged Eugene to the point of hatred. He was convinced I had set up the bullying that led to Megan's death. On our wedding anniversary, he pushed me off a high building, his face twisted with relentless fury. "This is what you owe me and Megan. Sherlyn, you deserve to die!" When I opened my eyes again, I found myself back on the day of the bullying. This time, I didn't intervene. Later, he knocked on my window in the rain, saying hoarsely in despair, "Sherlyn, why do you no longer care about me?"

My mother-in-law lives alone. One day, her house suddenly catches on fire. It's a life-threatening situation. I call my firefighter husband several times before he answers impatiently. "I don't care why you're calling—can't it wait? I'm fixing Sophie's pipes!" I tell him about his mother being trapped in a fire, but he merely sneers. "How dare you curse my mother just to make me go home? You're insane!" He hangs up without another word. I'm left helpless. All I can do is wait for his colleagues to arrive, but they only come half an hour later. Their expressions shift to horror when they see the blazing fire. "Didn't Captain Scott say his wife was lying?" My mother-in-law dies due to the delay. My husband even misses the funeral because of his first love. I give up on him and ask for a divorce. However, he rips the divorce agreement to shreds and shatters the urn that contains his mother's ashes. "Drop the act—I would definitely go through with the divorce if not for my mother!" I laugh. He doesn't even know his mother is already dead.

I've been a goody-two-shoes for 18 years. The only outrageous thing I've ever done is get into a secret relationship with my stepbrother, Kieran Brock, even though my mom and my stepfather, Andre Brock, are still living in the same house as us. During the day, we're stepsiblings who aren't familiar with each other. At night, however, we tangle with each other heatedly in the same bed. During the fifth year of our underground relationship, I accidentally overhear Kieran's conversation with his friend. "When you were 21, you robbed your stepsister of her virginity. Now that you've toyed with her for five years, aren't you planning on giving her a legitimate position by your side?" I feel my heart tensing. Somehow, I look forward to hearing Kieran's answer. As Kieran plays with his lighter, he shoots his friend a flippant smile. "Like you said, she's my sister. She's not meant to be known as my lover. Had I not plan on getting revenge on her mom for ruining my family, there's no way I'd sleep with her! "Also, I've already proposed to Vivian. She's the only woman who is worthy of becoming my wife." I don't break down and demand answers from Kieran. Instead, I pretend to not hear anything as I turn on my heel and walk away. On the day of Kieran's wedding, he specifically tells his friends to watch over the venue to prevent me from causing trouble there. What he doesn't know is that I've already boarded a flight meant for another country. This time, I will never come back.

My wife's first love broke into our home and killed me. Yet my wife, one of the world's top defense attorneys, stood in court to secure his acquittal. She insisted that the entire incident was nothing more than an act I had staged myself—a desperate attempt to win her attention. She even appeared at my funeral. Pointing at my coffin with open disgust, she sneered, "You'd stoop this low just to get my sympathy? Stop pretending and come out right now to apologize to Marvin."

Zoey Samantha had an unrequited love. Only I didn't know. It was the fourth year since we were together. She forced me to donate my kidney to that person. I hesitated for a moment, and she slapped me across the face. "That's your older brother. Don't be so selfish." Helplessly, I tried to force a smile. She had no idea that I was on the verge of death.

Everyone thinks I agreed to marry Wendy Quinton out of gratitude and to fulfill her grandfather's dying wish. Little did they know, the real reason I gave in was that her features resembled my first love, Zara Langston. Despite knowing that Wendy is hopelessly in love with Zachary Shaw, the man who killed her father, I still chose to have faith in her. But my foolish hope vanishes when I catch them tangled up in bed again in our marital home. With half of her clothes undone, Wendy leans against Zachary's chest, smiling shamelessly. "You should know your place. I've already done you a huge favor by not taking things all the way with him." This isn't the first time. Zachary has already claimed every inch of her body over and over again. Gripping her waist, Zachary chuckles. "Once the two of you are married, we'll finally be able to take things all the way. I can't wait." They think I'm a fool who will put up with anything. But unbeknownst to them, I have already uncovered the truth. Wendy's grandfather, Edward Quinton, didn't suddenly fall gravely ill. Zachary was the one who left him in a vegetative state. Then, a week ago, he pulled the plug on Edward's ventilator and killed him. I don't make a scene. Instead, I simply slip my wedding ring onto Zachary's ring finger. "In that case, I wish you two a lifetime of happiness together." I'm done lying to myself and playing along with their little charade.

Everyone knew that Simon Zimmer and Luna Springfield had been friends with benefits for a year, but they had chosen to hide it from Bertha Marsh, the deaf one. During a New Year’s gathering, Bertha's cold attitude caused displeasure to Simon’s friend. “Simon, is Bertha kicking up a fuss again? Seriously, that doctor of yours is more considerate. She knows how to get you into a good mood and doesn’t throw tantrums,” he said loudly with disdain. Simon’s expression turned dark, and he snapped at him. “Don’t say anything you shouldn’t. Bertha’s the most important person to me. I’ll die if she leaves.” He then anxiously signed to Bertha to ask whether she was sick. What he did not know was that Bertha had heard it all, and their future together was over.

There are two dogs who will forever revolve around Leonardo Zeller. The first one is his pet dog. The second one is me, his devoted lapdog. But I've successfully risen to the ranks as his fiancee. On the day before our wedding, Leonardo gets into an accident from car racing for the sake of his first love, Renee White. I rush over to the hospital immediately, but I don't see the scar that's supposed to adorn his chest. My complexion goes insanely pale out of panic. "Where did the scar from his heart surgery go?" "Hey! Don't you dare jinx my son! Since when did he go through such a cursed surgery?" Suddenly, I realize that I've gotten the wrong person this whole time for three years. On the day Leonardo gets discharged, he tells me that he regrets proposing to me and that he wants to call off the wedding just to be with Renee. Everyone wants to see me break down and humiliate myself by showing my hysterical side. But I merely reply, "Okay." What they don't know is that I've never loved Leonardo before. After all, the man I love is already dead a few years ago.

After Roman Archer and I broke up, he devoted himself to academic research. He had finally become successful. During a television interview, he looked just as confident and high-spirited as he had been back then. The host asked whom he most wanted to share this news with. After a brief silence, he called me. “Celeste, thank you for leaving me. My career is thriving now.” I smiled. “Congratulations, Mr. Roman.” He would never know that if I had not left, he would have died.

At the company's year-end awards ceremony, just as it is supposed to be my turn to go on stage and officially announce the relationship between my wife and me, my wife's first love suddenly proposes to her in front of everyone. Angela Reed does not refuse. Instead, she laughs brightly and promotes Samuel Hayden to the new department manager. Employees throughout the entire company cheer loudly for their romance. Seeing that I have no reaction, someone beside me cannot help but ask, "Ronald, you've worked for Ms. Reed for nine years. How can you show no response at all?" I smile as I walk onto the stage, take off my wedding ring, and toss it to Samuel. "How can you propose without preparing a ring? Here—it's yours."

When I'm dragged onto the auction stage, my ex-boyfriend, Clifford Mitchell, is sitting among the audience. He has his arm around Selene Graham, the woman who framed my father and sent him to prison back then. He leisurely raises his paddle. "A hundred million dollars. I want her to strip naked in public and play that video from back then." The compromising photos he coaxed me into taking when I was 18 instantly appear on the massive screen, and the whole venue bursts into laughter. I bite down hard on my lip and, with trembling hands, slowly undo my buttons to cover the cost of my son Brooke Sullivan's surgery tomorrow. Just then, Brooke bursts in. His head's covered in blood as he throws his arms around Clifford's leg. "You big bully! Don't hurt my mommy! You can have my kidney, so please save my mommy!" Staring at the face that is practically identical to his own, Clifford loses his composure for the very first time. "Kyra, this child—" I slap him hard across the face, a bitter smile on my lips. "Don't you think I'm filthy, Mr. Mitchell? He's just a bastard child. I wouldn't want to sully your precious eyes."

Juliet Sutton has always been hopelessly devoted. But the day her first love is diagnosed with cancer, she hands me a pill that can make someone forget. She says, "Matthew, Wilson doesn't have much time left. Give me three days. Let me give him the wedding he always dreamed of. "I won't break your heart. This pill only causes temporary memory loss. Once the ceremony is over, you take the antidote, fall in love with me again, and then we'll remarry." Seeing the resolve in her eyes, I take the pill and swallow it without hesitation. What Juliet doesn't know is that I'm the one who developed the pill. There is no antidote. In three days, I'll forget her completely.