Melodramatic Short Stories & Scumbag Marriage Novels

On my wedding day, the groom, Robert Jensen, is nowhere to be seen. All that's left of him is a letter and a baby who's born with a heart disease. "I love you, Winona, but I've also fallen in love with Claire. Since I can't give her a proper title at all, I decided to go on a world trip with her in order to make it up to her. "I'll also give you a chance to raise my and Claire's baby. While we're enjoying our trip, you can spend some quality time with our baby." The thing is, I don't have any blood relations with this baby. Why the hell should I raise Robert and Claire's baby, to begin with? Six years later, I take my son, Anson Jensen, to the airport so that we can see my husband, Joshua Jensen, off to his business trip. When I turn around, I spot Robert, who's pushing his suitcase toward me. As he stares at Anson in my arms, he exclaims in surprise, "Winona, is this my and Claire's child? You raised him well! "Unfortunately, we're already married overseas, so I can no longer marry you. But don't worry, Winona. To me, you're already my wife." As I look at Robert's face, which is rather similar to Anson's features, I let out a soft chuckle. "Don't go around mistaking other people's children for your own, Robert. Anyway, this is your younger cousin."

At eight months pregnant, Esther Rivera went to the mall to buy a duffle bag and stock up on supplies she would need when she went into labor. She was once again mistaken for a mistress and was assaulted by Summer Moreno. To protect the baby in her belly, she could not fight back at all. Summer grabbed her hair and slapped her several times, even nearly tearing off her clothes. At her wit’s end, Esther called the police. Both of them were taken to the police station. Each of them claimed to be Jasper Clarke’s wife The police officer, John Hayward, called Jasper to verify the truth. When Jasper learned about this, he went to the police station. Summer swiftly took out a mirror to touch up her makeup before looking at Esther smugly and saying, “Esther, do you think Jasper will say I’m his wife just to protect me? “I bet he will.”

My younger sister, Noelle Lynch's 18th birthday wish is to personally give me the wedding bouquet at my wedding. That's why throughout the five years of Noelle getting tormented by polio, the sentence that I utter to my fiance, Jeremy Morgan, the most is, "Wait a little longer." I want to wait till Noelle is fully recovered and can give me the wedding bouquet. Only when that time comes will the wedding be held. At first, Jeremy keeps arguing with me over this matter. "You're marrying me, not Noelle! Is it that important for her to attend our wedding? My mom really wants us to have a child! If we're not getting married by this year, then we might as well break up!" Things between us have soured since that day. When Noelle finally recovers from polio at the end of the year and wins the pageant as Miss Global Winner, I specifically give myself a long vacation. Then, I secretly contact the wedding planning company in hopes of moving the wedding date forward. But the staff member asks me in shock, "Didn't Mr. Morgan hold his wedding last month?" She even digs out the backup video from the wedding on her computer. In the video, Jeremy can be seen wearing a white suit. With red-rimmed eyes, he slides a ring onto the bride's finger. Shockingly enough, this bride is Noelle, the very same person who keeps claiming that I'm her salvation. I feel as though I've plunged into an icy abyss. Subconsciously, I log into Noelle's social media account. The first thing I see is a barrage of messages from Jeremy. "Honey, I already told her that I'd go on a business trip for a month. We'll meet up at the airport right on time. "By the way, remember to bring the black lace stockings that I've given you. I'm already looking forward to seeing you wearing them…" I clutch my phone tightly at the sight of the messages. Then, I hail a cab and rush to the airport immediately.

The day before the wedding, my fiancé did not show up for the rehearsal. That night, I received a few text messages from him: [Ruby is pregnant. The child isn’t mine.] [But I have to marry her first so that the baby can be registered properly.] [Let’s postpone the wedding for another three years. Don’t contact me during this time.] [Figure out how to explain it to both our families. Whatever you do, don’t damage Ruby’s reputation… Just tell everyone you don't want to get married for now.] I only replied with one word: [Okay.] I no longer wanted this marriage anyway.

It's my daughter, Clementine Hartman's first time smashing cake and we hold a big birthday party for her. Somehow, she digs out a thong belonging to Nancy Ortega, my husband's female best friend, from the giftbox he has prepared. Everyone is stunned, to say the least. Nancy lets out a soft gasp before blinking at me innocently. "Sorry, this is my fault! Shawn and I traded underwear just for fun some time ago, and I forgot to take it away. Please don't take this matter to heart, Karina." I do my best to suppress my rage and pretend that nothing has happened for Clementine's sake. But suddenly Clementine picks up a document. Thinking that it's a present prepared by the elderly members in the family for Clementine, I glance at it before putting it away. Unexpectedly, Nancy bursts out laughing. "Karina, is money all you care about? Did you seriously accept that document without going through it? Don't tell me you seriously think a property deed is wrapped up in that document!" Then, Nancy picks out a few pieces of paper from the pile before tossing them to me. Only then do I make out the details. It turns out that Clementine has actually grabbed a copy of the divorce agreement meant for me and Shawn Hartman. I stare at Shawn in disbelief. "Is this what you really want? A divorce?" Shawn looks perplexed at first, but he still shields Nancy behind him out of instinct. "Nancy's just pulling a prank. Don't take it to heart. She's just joking around." But Nancy sticks her head out from behind Shawn and adds, "Joking around? Shawn, don't tell me you've lost your courage to divorce Karina!" All the guests fall silent at her words. They all turn to look at me. After a while, I don't react by crying or kicking up a fuss. Instead, I drop my signature on the divorce agreement while everyone else stares at me in shock. "Fine. Let's get divorced." After all, it is my daughter's gift.

All of our old college friends consider Simon Horne and me the model couple. We've been dating for eight years now. He has driven across half the city just to bring me breakfast before, and he once skipped a business meeting for a deal worth ten million dollars just to be with me when I felt sick. Our old classmates always tease us by saying, "If you guys break up, none of us would ever believe in true love again." … During one of our regular meetups, everyone decides to play truth or dare. The one who's chosen has to show everyone what they've saved their partner as in their phone. Smiling, I flash my screen at everyone. Simon's profile picture bears the name "My Beloved Mr. Horne". The crowd hollers in response. Meanwhile, Natalie Adams, my best friend, hesitates and refuses to show us her phone. "You've been secretly married to your husband for seven years now! Why are you still so bashful? Come on. Show us! We wanna see that mysterious husband of yours who spends all his time abroad!" Natalie forces a weak smile and says, "He doesn't want to be revealed. How about giving me a different punishment?" Thinking that Natalie's just shy, I tease her for a bit and snatch her phone away when she's distracted. "It's been seven years! Now it's time for me to find out who you married—" My voice cuts off sharply. On the screen, displayed below the word "Hubby", was Simon's profile picture. Natalie's expression stiffens as she grabs her phone at once. "It's not what you think!" The next moment, her phone starts ringing. In her panic, she accidentally takes the call on speaker mode. Simon's familiar voice fills the room. "Hey, babe. Why aren't you home yet? I've picked Andy up from the babysitter, and he's been asking for you." A young boy's voice calls out after, "Daddy, when is Mommy coming home?" The laughter in the room dies out. I look down at the engagement ring on my finger. As it turns out, hidden behind an eight-year-long relationship that has been the envy of all others is the truth that has evaded me this whole time—that my fiancé has long since married my best friend and started a family with her.

Ophelia Hart had been married to Rowan Cabell for five years. He had been cheating on her for four and a half of those years. His list of mistresses could probably stretch all the way from Merion to Freeka, and the condoms he had gone through could practically wrap around the entire globe. However, Ophelia never made a scene. Whenever Rowan brought another woman to bed, she would quietly prepare a cup of warm water and a box of his favourite lemon-flavored condoms. When they were done, she would calmly arrange for the maid to clean the room. It was all because of the first rule in the Hart family’s code for women—'A husband’s infidelity is never an excuse for anger or confrontation. Never make a scene. Never raise your voice. His comfort must always come first. Violate this rule, and you will pay the price yourself.’ Ophelia had once paid that price for six months. Those six months were more than enough to make the lesson unforgettable. Hence, when Rowan wrapped his arms around Lydia Beaumont and passionately kissed her in front of everyone, then loudly announced that he was going to marry her, Ophelia merely reached into her bag. She pulled out a pack of strawberry chewing gum, offered it to them with both hands, and said sweetly, “Kissing feels better when you’re chewing gum.” Everyone burst into laughter and started cheering. They thought she had finally learned her lesson. However, they had it all wrong, because she was about to leave…

"Your marriage is a $50 souvenir, Ms. Vance. And your husband's already married to someone else." In a single moment at the immigration office, my life as the wife of NHL superstar Liam Sterling evaporated. Our secret Vegas wedding was a fraud, and Liam was already legally married to his "manager," Sophia. But the cruelty didn't end there. Liam expected me to adopt a "war hero's orphan", a child that was actually his and Sophia's secret son. He didn't want a wife. He wanted a world-class doctor to fix his career and a free nanny to raise his real wife's child. Liam made one fatal mistake: he forgot that I'm the only one who can keep him on the ice. I signed a record-breaking contract with the Titans, his bitterest rivals. Now, while Liam's knee shatters during the playoffs, I'm on the enemy's bench, healing the only man who can destroy him. He want a nanny? I'm sure he'll get his worst nightmare.

At my son's kindergarten awards ceremony, the teacher invited the parents onstage to share their parenting experiences. I was about to stand when Julian stopped me and motioned for my best friend, Wendy Morgan, to go up instead. "Nathan is actually Wendy's and my son," Julian Cole said so calmly that he might as well have been discussing something that had nothing to do with me. "Wendy has known for five years that Nathan is her son, but she hasn't been able to acknowledge him as her own. I don't want her to keep suffering in silence," he added. I was almost certain I'd misheard him, but the question slipped out before I could stop it. "Then what about my son?" "Your son died the moment he was born. Wendy couldn't bear to see you suffer the pain of losing your child, so she gave you hers," he answered just as casually, as though he were talking about someone else's family. When he saw the color drain from my face, he let out a cold scoff. "You never even saw him. Why are you taking this so hard? Survival of the fittest. Isn't it perfectly normal for an unhealthy embryo to be eliminated?" A deafening roar filled my head. Julian tightened his grip on my hand. "Don't worry. Nothing is going to change. I won't divorce you. Nathan just has another mother now. That's all." I pulled my hand stiffly from his grasp and stared at him in disbelief. "Where are my son's ashes?" Julian froze for a moment. "Ashes? I gave his body to the hospital for disposal. What ashes? He was probably thrown into some trash can somewhere." I shot to my feet, my voice trembling beyond my control. "Julian, you're an animal!"

On Christmas Eve, I giddily wait for my husband, Hunter Gibson, to come home while nursing my eight-month pregnancy. Unexpectedly, Hunter bursts through the front door with his childhood friend, Winter Jones, in his arms. I attempt to help him out, only to get shoved to the floor instead. My belly bumps into a corner of the coffee table, causing pain to shoot up my nerves. Cold sweat soon beads on my forehead, and yet Hunter doesn't even spare me another glance. "Get out of my way! Someone drugged Winnie's drink at the bar! If I don't purge the poison out of her, she'll die!" As I shield my belly, I dig out my phone. "I'll call an ambulance for her—" But Hunter snatches my phone away before hurling it at the floor, breaking it into splinters. Then, he grabs me by the neck angrily. "Are you trying to ruin Winnie's reputation? If word gets out, how is she going to live with her head hung high?" In order to prevent me from "ruining his plan", Hunter decides to trap me on the balcony while disregarding my pleas and the fact that I'm only wearing thin pajamas. "You should take some time to cool off! Once you've finally learned your lesson, you're only permitted entry!" I can only slam my palms onto the glass door desperately with tears running down my face. There, I'm forced to watch as Hunter and Winter go at it like desperate rabbits on the carpet in the living room, with the Christmas songs serving as their ambiance. A heavy snowfall has occurred that night. At the crack of dawn the next morning, Hunter finally remembers that I exist. He calls my number, yet my phone was turned off. Furious, Hunter yells, "Where the hell did you go? Winnie's stomach is in discomfort! Get your ass back here right now and cook her some soup!" What he doesn't know is that I'm right outside the balcony door. The thing is, dead people are incapable of answering phone calls, not to mention Hunter has already broken my phone, to begin with.

Nolan Gallagher had taken a compulsive liar, Wendy Saunter, under his wing as his god-sister after she claimed she could bring him financial luck. No matter how outrageous Wendy's claims were, Nolan always went out of his way to make them come true. When Wendy publicly livestreamed to the entire internet that Nolan would abandon his wedding for her, he left me standing at the altar 99 times. When Wendy bragged in front of our friends and family that Nolan would divorce me for her, he married and divorced me eight times, turning me into the laughingstock of our social circle. Whenever I showed the slightest sign of displeasure, Nolan would dismiss casually, saying, "She's childish. She's just making up a few stories. Don't take it seriously." For the sake of the child in my womb, I had swallowed my anger and given in time and time again. But I never expected Wendy to make another boast while I was in labor, claiming she could hear the voice of the baby inside my belly. "The baby says he wants to come out at three in the morning." Just to fulfill a careless boast Wendy had made, Nolan had forcibly pushed my nearly full-term baby back inside me. When my child finally came out at three in the morning, his little body was blue and purple. He was already dead. That also happened to be the day our divorce was set to be finalized. What Nolan didn't know was that for my ninth marriage, the man I was going to marry would be his sworn enemy.

In the three years I spent unconscious in a hospital bed, Julius Carter took care of me day and night without complaint. The very first thing he did after I woke up was get down on one knee beside my hospital bed and propose. That night, while scrolling through social media, I came across a female influencer who looked strikingly similar to me. [Another date with my boyfriend today!] [He took me to an upscale restaurant for dinner and bought me the diamond ring I wanted. He's the sweetest!] The top comment read: [You're showing off so much. I bet you're just a sugar baby!] She fired back immediately with a reply. [Being a sugar baby takes skill, too. Looking like a pig won't get you that kind of treatment.] [My boyfriend is the heir to the Carter family. Another nonsense from you, and I'll have my lawyer sue you!] My breathing hitched. Since when did Julius Carter have a girlfriend? Rage overcame me, and I tapped on her profile, ready to send her a private message. That was when I noticed a post pinned to the top of her page. The photo showed a pair of long, elegant hands placing food onto someone's plate across the table, and on the back of that hand were two small moles. They were the exact same two moles Julius had.

Someone replaces the eye drops with industrial cleaner, causing my patient to go blind in both eyes and jump from the 20th floor. As the attending doctor, I am arrested for intentional harm and sentenced to five years in prison. After my release, my husband, Sebastian Lester, and son, Carl Lester, come to pick me up and bring me home. While everyone else treats me like trash, the two of them stay by my side without abandoning me. I am deeply grateful for that. So, I obey their every word without complaint. But one night after a banquet, I accidentally overhear Sebastian talking to Carl when I am bringing him some hangover remedy. "Dad, Ms. Short really wants to win the top photography award, so I switched the eye drops Mom prepared for her patient. But Mom went to prison because of it. And now, all my classmates call me the son of a murderer." Sebastian quickly covers Carl's mouth and sternly warns him, "Never mention this again. Back then, Jolene's competitor was too talented, so that was the only way I could help her. Your mom's prison term serves as a lesson for her that she shouldn't side with outsiders." So, the five years of darkness and suffering I endure in prison is the doing of the people I love the most.

My boyfriend, Timothy Wells, thought I was overly sensitive, so he created an emotional price list. Crying cost $50. Questioning him cost $100. Mentioning his female friend, Camilla Lane, cost $500. He reassured me, "A relationship can only last if both people are emotionally secure." Last week, while I was trying on wedding dresses, Camilla suddenly stepped on my dress train. I fell to the floor, tears spilling from my eyes from how much it hurt. Without even blinking, Timothy deducted $50 from my account. "Be good. Don't cry. Camilla didn't do it on purpose. You're just taking a joke too far." Then, on Valentine's Day, Timothy stayed out all night with Camilla. While tidying his study, I discovered another emotional price list. "$5,000 for Camilla eating her meals without fuss. $50,000 for acting sweet. If she gets upset, grant her a little wish to make it up to her." My phone suddenly buzzed with a notification. Camilla had posted on social media. "Someone said that even my little mood swings deserve to be taken seriously." In the photo, Timothy had his head slightly bowed as he carefully fastened a luxury necklace around her neck. The comments were full of people expressing their envy. I texted Timothy. "Did you buy Camilla a $60,000 necklace?" A second later, $600 was deducted from my account. Then his reply came through. "$100 for questioning me, $500 for mentioning her. That's a $600 deduction." I stared at the transaction for a moment. Then, I called the wedding planner and canceled the wedding. "The bride is perfectly emotionally stable. Stable enough to decide she doesn't want to get married."

For five years, Cora Mitchell had been secretly married to Ethan Caldwell, yet they maintained a strictly professional superior-subordinate relationship at work. During the day, they treated each other like any other boss and secretary. At night, they couldn’t keep their hands off each other. No one knew they were husband and wife—until a video of Ethan pinning Cora against his office desk went viral. In the footage, Ethan gripped her waist with bloodshot eyes, his voice still hoarse with desire. “Cora, keep moaning. I love hearing you.” The video had barely surfaced when Cora was branded a homewrecker and dragged to the police station. One side of her face was swollen, and her clothes had been torn off, exposing bruises and marks all over her body. The people surrounding her pointed and sneered with contempt. “Have you heard? She’s a mistress! She used her position as his secretary to seduce Mr. Caldwell. She deserves whatever she gets, even if she’s beaten to death!” Cora struggled to defend herself. “I’m Ethan Caldwell’s wife, not his mistress!” A slap came out of nowhere, sending her stumbling back and nearly toppling to the ground. "Mr. Caldwell belongs with Madison Parker!"

After Heath Renwick abandons me and our daughter for Celeste Worthing's dog for the seventh time, we finally learn our lesson. He parades around with Celeste and the dog, trending online, landing magazine features, and I don't say a word. He even tears up our daughter Maisie's favorite sketchbook to line the dog's bed, and she doesn't cry or make a fuss. Then the dog chases Maisie down a flight of stairs. She hits her head and ends up in the ER with a concussion, and only then does Heath bother to show up. "Raven! Why didn't you tell me? I'm Maisie's father too!" I spend the whole night sitting outside the emergency room. I look at him, my voice perfectly calm. "It's nothing serious, just a mild concussion. She'll be out in a couple of days. We know you're busy, so Maisie will understand." Heath freezes. "A concussion is serious, and you're telling me it's nothing? What kind of a mother are you?" He wants to blow up, but the whispers around him stop him short. "Mr. Renwick really is better suited for Ms. Worthing. If she hadn't gone abroad back then, a small-town woman like Raven would never have had a chance." "Exactly. She can't even keep her own child safe." Heath frowns. "There's nothing going on with Celeste. She's like a sister to me!" I nod. "I believe you. "Maisie fell down the stairs because Prince chased her. I know that dog means everything to Celeste, so I didn't bring it up. I didn't want to put you in a difficult position." A flicker of shame crosses Heath's face. "I'll find the best doctor for Maisie. Prince is everything to Celeste, you know that. She has mental health issues." "Mr. Renwick, I understand. Maisie doesn't need to call you Dad anymore." He panics. "If you're upset, just say so! Stop putting on this act and dragging the kid into it!" I nod. "Okay. I got it." I'm not planning to make a scene. I already have plane tickets to Eraly. In five days, we'll have nothing to do with each other anymore.

Charles Hale wanted to prove he could succeed without inheriting the Alpha position, so he devoted almost all his time to his work on cruise ships. For ten years, I watched him work his way up from deckhand to captain. I was happy to support him and take care of him whenever he needed me. I asked him once, "When are you going to take me out on the water? I want to see the gulls and the huge waves with you." He rolled over, turning his back to me. "There are so many passengers on that ship. It's not exactly a place for a date." I didn't say anything. I filed it away and never brought it up again. Then one day, I stumbled across the private photo album he'd kept hidden for years. Thousands of photos, every one taken on deck, with waves and the sunrise in the background. And the same woman in all of them. She had her arms thrown wide, like she was trying to hold the whole ocean. Charles had written little diary entries on the backs of the photos, all the things he wanted to say to her. "I cherish every day I get to watch the sea with you. I hope it stays like this forever. The ocean, and you." The most recent photo was dated last week. In it, the sea breeze was tossing her long hair. I quietly shut the cabinet door and locked it again. Then I sat alone on the living room couch and stared at nothing until dawn. I picked up my phone and bought a ticket on an Alaska cruise. After ten years, I thought I could finally stop letting my life revolve around waiting for him to come home. No more crossing days off a calendar. No more checking the weather at sea to make sure he was safe. He didn't want to share his stars and his ocean with me. Fine. I'd go see them on my own, and the wind out there would be mine.

On my first day at a new hospital, I treated a pregnant woman in critical condition. With the nurses’ help, we stabilized her condition and safely delivered her baby. As soon as she could speak, she reached for her phone. Her voice was filled with pride as she said, “Honey, I gave birth to a son!” The voice that came through the speaker made me freeze. “Baby, you’re amazing!” Those few words were enough to send me spiraling into despair. I had known that voice for ten years. It belonged to my husband, Liam Stretton.

For all seven years of our marriage, I believed Nolan Harris was an orphan who'd never been to school and could only find work hauling cargo at the docks. Nolan brought home so little money each month that I worked two jobs every day to help make ends meet. Nolan practically lived at the docks and was hardly ever home. Every day, I cooked for him and had someone take him the food. Then complications during labor sent me to the hospital. There, I saw Nolan in a room with a woman I'd never seen before. She was crying in his arms. Nolan wore a sharp, expensive suit, and a crowd of his men stood behind him. That was when I found out Nolan had never been a dockworker at all. He was the Don of the Harris family. The woman in his arms was Christine Walsh, the widow of his best friend. Matthew Walsh had died saving Nolan's life. To repay that debt, Nolan had given Christine the best of everything and kept it all from me for seven years. And now a rival had brutally murdered Christine's child, Jamie Walsh. To comfort Christine, Nolan wanted me to give her my baby. Once I learned the truth, I gave up on Nolan completely. I decided to walk away from our seven-year sham of a marriage and break free of Nolan for good.

On my thirty-eighth birthday, my husband, Hugh Shaw, nearly forty, found the love of his life. He asked me for a divorce. "Mina’s only twenty. She’s sweet and kind, while you’re old and boring." I nodded at my own reflection, looking worn and lifeless. That explained Hugh’s strange behavior lately. He’d started caring about his appearance. He never left the house without putting on cologne, and he bought a bouquet of flowers every day. No matter how busy he was, the first thing he did when he got home was work out at the gym. Before the divorce, Hugh asked me, "Maya, you’ve been a housewife for seven years. Can you really bring yourself to divorce me? Don’t come crying to me later!" I smiled. "I won’t." Because that girl he fell in love with was me at twenty.