Short Stories & Novels

Nathan Carter was famous in high society for being completely devoted to his wife. All because I had an almost obsessive need to control him. Not only did he have to video call me every five minutes to check in, but every morning when I woke up, I expected a five-thousand-word love letter waiting for me. The first time he was a minute late checking in, my paranoia spiraled out of control, and I bombarded him with ninety-nine voice messages, threatening to kill myself. He transferred me one million dollars, dropped to his knees, and swore it would never happen again before I reluctantly forgave him. His voice softened as he leaned closer, trying to kiss me. Suddenly, a flood of comments exploded across my vision. [Exactly! Once Quinn catches HIV, he should dump her. A villainess like her deserves to get sick, lose the baby, and die a miserable death!] [Who could put up with a crazy woman like her? If she hadn't pushed the male lead so hard, he never would've slept around and contracted HIV!] [When is the female lead finally going to show up? I can't wait for her and the male lead to heal each other and get their happily ever after!] I looked at Nathan, who had already taken off his shirt, his breathing heavy. I hurriedly grabbed a towel from the side and wrapped it around myself. "Honey, I'm suddenly not feeling very well. Don't you have a meeting to get to? You should go. I don't want to keep you from work."

Everest Quentin, my commander husband, has fallen in love with his dead comrade's widow, Selene Brooks. When I find out about it, I don't bother kicking up a ruckus. Instead, I just turn in my resignation letter at my workplace and trick Everest into signing a divorce agreement. After Everest drops his signature, he falls silent for a very long time. Finally, he speaks up in an extraordinarily warm tone. "If you truly intend to quit your job, can you write a recommendation letter for Selene to work at your school instead? "You know that Selene's husband has sacrificed his life in the war. Life will be very difficult for her if she doesn't secure a job to make ends meet." I nod without turning Everest's request down. Previously, I've donated my own heart to him, only to find out that he has it transplanted into Selene's chest instead. I only have three days to live, so I have nothing else in this life. That's why I've tricked Everest into signing the divorce agreement on the first day. On the second day, my resignation letter officially goes into effect. My position is now Selene's. On the third day, I die right in front of my parents' graves. Unfortunately, that also means I never get to attend the banquet Everest has thrown for Selene. The banquet is so boisterous that one would think it's a wedding instead. Everest scans his surroundings, only to realize that I'm absent. He frowns immediately before admonishing me for throwing a tantrum on Selene's big day. The next thing he knows, a soldier rushes over and announces my death right in front of the guests. For once, Everest, who has always prided himself on being cool-headed all the time, actually drops the wine glass he's holding in his hand.

My childhood friends switched their university of choice behind my back. Going to the capital, they enrolled in an elite university with an exchange student. To them, I was just a tool who could not survive without them. That impression lasted until the opening ceremony of an Ivy League university. As the representative of the new students, I stood at the center of the hall. Meanwhile, the youngest PhD advisor in the entire country watched me as he smiled. Beyond the world of the novel I lived in, the readers’ comments went wild. [Shouldn’t she be crying back at home? Why is she in an Ivy League university?] However, the next part was even crazier. That man actually asked me to be his girlfriend yesterday. He was Professor Samuel Grant, the one who had rejected my four childhood friends from studying under him. When my childhood friends left me behind to chase after that manipulative witch, they never expected me to cast aside my role as someone running after them. I ended up holding a full-ride scholarship and reached heights they could never touch.

In the sixth year after helping Blake secure his position as Don, I was both his wife and his sharpest blade. Until the day of our daughter's birthday– She was hit by a car arranged by his enemies. As her life hung by a thread, I called him dozens of times. He never answered. However, I heard that he was at a casino, spending lavishly with his first love. In that moment, whatever I felt for Blake died completely. So when he finally returned, carrying the scent of another woman, I pretended not to notice. Blake frowned and tried to explain, "Victoria is still young. The casino isn't safe. I had no choice but to stay with her." I said nothing. I only nodded. However, he suddenly flew into a rage, grabbing me by the throat, his gaze dark. "Helena, our daughter is hurt – do you think I don't care? Do you have to keep this attitude? "And it's just a minor injury. You're the Don's wife. Be more composed. Don't let your jealousy toward Victoria go too far." I let out a cold laugh. He did not know–our daughter was already gone. And neither he nor this family needed to exist in my life anymore.

After the evening study session, I was just about to return to the dorm when my first boyfriend, the school's valedictorian and undisputed top student, suddenly tore across the courtyard toward me. Before I could react, he grabbed my wrist and, in full view of a crowd of stunned students, dragged me into a frantic run toward the front gates. I exclaimed, "Julian, have you lost your mind? Graduation's six months away. Are you really trying to run off with me now?" I struggled the whole way, twisting and pulling against him, but his grip never loosened. "Autumn, don't ask any questions. Just come with me. Hurry!" he said, his voice trembling with panic. We fled the school, jumped into a taxi in the middle of the night, and rushed to another city, where we checked into a rundown budget motel. Arms folded and brow furrowed, I glared at him. "So you hauled me out of school like a lunatic just to hole up in a cheap motel?" His cheeks turned bright red. He flailed his hands in frantic denial, then thrust a phone into my hands. I barely had time to unlock the phone and start dialing my parents before a breaking news alert flashed across the screen. My eyes locked on the screen, and I went rigid with shock. The headline reported, 'Mass Death at Blackwood High: All 5,000 students and faculty found dead last night after experiencing catastrophic bleeding. Only two students who skipped the study session survived.' I looked up at Julian in horror. He was staring at the screen too, his face white as paper, cold sweat running down his forehead. "You knew, didn't you?" I asked. "What the hell is going on?"

My four-year-old son dies after someone crashes into him with a motorcycle. The culprit is a college freshman who's just been admitted. I'm devastated, but my husband generously forgives her. "We have to give her a chance since she's such an outstanding student. She's still young—we can't ruin her future." Ha. She has plenty of opportunities and a bright future ahead of her. What about my son? He was only four. Later, I rip his letter of forgiveness to pieces before his face. He wants me to forgive the young lady? No way in hell!

The male postpartum care specialist adjusted his touch with calm precision. Heat spread through my body, leaving me weak against the cushions. "You're quite sensitive," he said quietly. The warmth of his breath near my ear made me tremble, despite myself.

One day, I received a call from the property management. They politely advised me that even if it was a wedding, there was no need to make such a ruckus all night long, disturbing the neighbors. They said they were caught in the middle, and it was hard for them to deal with it. I replied, "You must be mistaken. I don't even have a boyfriend, so how could I be getting married?" Since I refused to admit it, the property management sent me a video from the community's security cameras. In the video, the hallway was decorated with lights and flowers, and guests were coming and going. A large group of people were escorting the bride into the new home. And the groom was none other than my ex-boyfriend, who I had broken up with two and a half years ago!

When my parents came to take me home, I accidentally switched souls with Ava, a girl from the mountains. The moment my mother saw the certificate proving that Ava had ranked first in the entire county, her eyes filled with tears. "Looks like sending you to the mountains to suffer for half a year was the right decision. "Back then, getting you to study was like pulling teeth. Now you finally understand that everything we did was for your own good." I burst into tears and rushed forward, throwing my arms around my mother's legs. "Mom, I'm the real Sophie!" She kicked me hard, sending me sprawling into the mud. "Where did this wild child come from? You're just as disobedient as the old Sophie!" My parents took away the "me" carrying Ava's soul, leaving the real me behind in the mountains. For the next five years, I endured endless hard labor, slept in a pigsty, and suffered relentless abuse before I finally found a chance to escape. But when I returned home, my mother looked at me with disgust and drove me away. "My daughter just made it through the national competition. How could she possibly be someone like you? If you dare spout that nonsense again, I'll have you locked up in a mental hospital!" I cried until my entire body shook, but I refused to give up. That night, I climbed over the wall and slipped back into the house. That's when I heard my father ask my mother, "We didn't know about the soul swap back then. But now that she's found her way back... are we really not going to acknowledge her?" My mother let out a cold laugh. "What would be the point of taking her back? Should we let her ruin the Sophie we have now? She's hopeless. Even being thrown into the mountains couldn't change her. Someone like her deserves to die." A sharp pain ripped through my stomach. I coughed up a mouthful of blood. "Mom... This body has stomach cancer. Just as you wished... I'm going to die."

After my hundredth disastrous blind date, my best friend and I made a bold decision: we would have children without husbands. She chose sperm from a brilliant PhD donor. I chose a donor with an eight-nation mixed heritage. Later, the PhD donor from Kingsford University was diagnosed with low sperm motility and decided he wanted to marry my friend, Melissa Shaw. She agreed. Whenever she saw me going to my prenatal checkups alone, Melissa would wrap her arm around her husband and mock me. "You're destined to be alone," she sneered. "You can't even find a man to marry you. My husband just launched a major national research project. His future is limitless." What she did not know was that the father of my child was the Prince of Dubaria. He took me back to his country and made me his princess. The jewels I wore were so heavy they practically weighed me down. However, after she saw the yacht I posted on social media, Melissa suddenly called me in tears. "I don't know what happened," she sobbed. "My husband's project was suddenly suspended. We can barely afford baby formula for our child." She said she wanted to make up and even asked if I would be her child’s godmother. However, the moment I stepped through her door, she raised a chainsaw and hacked me to death. "Why do you get to live a better life than me?" she screamed. "Just because you chose better sperm?!" When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day my best friend and I first decided to have children without husbands.

I was the biological daughter of the Stone Family. With my gossip-tracking system, I played the part of a meek, obedient girl on the surface, but underneath, I would strike hard when it counted. What I didn't realize was that someone could hear my every thought. "Even if you're our biological sister, Alicia is the only one we truly acknowledge. You need to understand your place," said my brothers. 'I must've broken a deal with the devil in a past life to end up in the Stone Family this time,' I figured. My brothers stopped dead in their tracks. "Alice is obedient, sensible, and loves everyone in this family. Don't stir up drama by trying to compete for attention." I couldn't help but think, 'Well, she's sensible enough to ruin everyone's lives and loves you all to the point of making me nauseous.' The brothers looked dumbfounded.

The birthday gift I gave my husband was found in a doghouse by the side of the road. I spent the next five years as the butt of all jokes made by Cascade City's high society wives. Every year when Julian Carter's birthday came around, they would bring it up again, teasing that the gift I bought him was surely the most expensive one of all. "That's nouveau riche taste for you. She thinks the more expensive it is, the better." "Yeah, but I wonder where they'll find it this year. Another doghouse, maybe?" The women burst into laughter. Then, they realized something was different. This year, I had not given Julian anything at all. In fact, as his birthday drew to a close, I still had not shown up. "Laura, where's my birthday present? And what kind of behavior is this? You disappeared for the entire day. Do you have any idea how unhappy everyone in the family has been?" Julian's eyes were dark with irritation. I pushed back my sleep-mussed hair, only then remembering that it seemed to be Julian's birthday. "Oh, sorry. I forgot." After a brief pause, I added casually, "I'll have my assistant pick something out tomorrow and send it over." For a moment, he simply stared at me, as if he could not believe what he had just heard. "What did you just say?"

I, Isabella Norton, once made a promise with Julian Lawson, the billionaire CEO. After 98 proposals, he vows to appear at the doors of the city hall on my 99th attempt. But when the day comes, he doesn't show up. Instead, he brings his mistress, Natalie Mayer, to a concert. The sweet kiss they share under the camera's spotlight quickly turns into a trending sensation. At the same time, I also make headlines for turning up at the city hall for the 99th time. Speculations about the mysterious groom who never makes an appearance run wild. Everyone wonders when I will make my 100th attempt to propose. Out of guilt, Julian promises to show up next time when he realizes that I have carried out my promise. But when he finally arrives there clad in an impeccable suit, all he receives is a text message from me. "There won't be a hundredth proposal. It's over between us."

My parents fly across the country for the tenth time to meet my girlfriend, Sienna Holloway, yet she's nowhere to be found. She doesn't answer my calls or reply to my texts. Somewhere between my third and fourth cup of coffee, I see a new post from my buddy, Nolan Prescott, on my feed. It features eight photos of snow-covered mountains, and the last photo shows two hands laced together. The caption reads, "She joined me for the tenth trip. A perfect ten." I nearly crush my phone in my fist, my veins standing out across my knuckles. After 27 unanswered calls, Sienna finally picks up. "Where are you?" Wind crackles through the speaker, and her voice comes back distracted and flat. "Out. Why?" "Why? This is the tenth time. My parents are too old to keep flying out here, and you—" She goes quiet for a second, then sighs. "God, relax. Nolan and I are having fun skiing up at Ridgeline Pass. I just forgot. "Tell them to wait three more days. I'll come see them when I'm done here." Before I can get another word out, she hangs up. My reflection stares back at me from the dark screen, my lips pressed into a thin line. After that, I smile at my parents and say, "Since she won't show, let's set me up with someone new."

I was eighteen when I left Italy for Chicago. My brother Leo handed me over to his most powerful ally for “protection.” Don Damien Volkov. His eyes locked on me the first time we met. They never looked away. By day, I was his private doctor. By night, I was the only thing in his bed. His seduction was a slow, deliberate hunt. The way his body brushed against mine during an exam. A stray kiss that landed behind my ear. The weight of his hand resting on the small of my back. I fell fast and hard for his dark charm. I gave myself to him, letting him claim me, again and again. For four years, our affair was a secret hidden in the shadows. In that time, he sculpted my body, teaching it to crave his touch, molding me into his perfect obsession. Then she came back. Isabella, his exiled ex-fiancée. He sent his private jet for her. I swallowed my pride and crashed his reunion. An hour ago, his hands, still smelling of blood, gripped my chin. He forced his kiss on me. But now, right in front of me, he was stroking another woman's hair. "Elara, you're the one who climbed into my bed four years ago." "You act like a whore, but you expect me to treat you like a Donna?" The way he looked at Isabella was so tender. The way he looked at me was pure scorn. Shame burned through me. Head down, I sent my brother a coded text. Accept the Moretti proposal. I looked up. A smile bloomed on my face. "Fine. Then this is goodbye, Damien."

Timothy Grayson has been frail and sickly since childhood, yet he dreams of fighting on the front lines. I ask the system to strengthen his life force, and the price is that we exchange each other's pain and wound. From then on, Timothy fights without fear, knowing someone else is bearing the pain for him. With every battle, he grows bolder and earns countless military honors. For three years, I bear every bit of his pain alone. Every time a stray arrow pierces him in battle, the pain is so intense that I nearly bite through my own tongue. Meanwhile, the only pain Timothy ever gets from me is a dull ache in his lower abdomen for a few days each month and the occasional headache or fever. I accept it all. But after meeting Sarah Tucker, Timothy grows increasingly reckless. Fearing she'd get caught in the rain, he drapes his coat over her. Yet, I spend the entire night suffering through a bone-deep chill. Sarah is afraid of the dark, so Timothy ventures into a fever swamp to find her a luminous gem. I spend the next three days bedridden, coughing up black blood in his place. Even after returning home victorious from war, the first thing Timothy says to me is, "Ana, you've endured three years of suffering in my place. I'll never forget what you've done for me. But Sarah is the woman I love. I could never ask her to be my mistress." That's when I hear the system's voice for the first time in a long while. It says, "Loss of hope detected. Once the death condition is triggered, you may return to the real world." I nod without a word. From then on, Timothy and I go our separate ways.

Seven years into our marriage, my husband had repeatedly postponed the trip he had promised our daughter. The first time, his childhood friend lost her job, and he insisted on taking her away to distract her. The second time, she went through a breakup, and he worried she might do something reckless. This time, I booked the tickets six months in advance. Just last night, I asked him, "You're not going to leave me for her again, are you?" He pulled our daughter into an affectionate hug. "Absolutely not." But when I arrived at the airport, my husband was there, hand in hand with his childhood friend, who had just finalized her divorce. "She hasn't been doing well lately. I want to bring her along." I held my temper and told him she was a grown woman. He couldn't keep babysitting her. He didn't see a problem with it. "Just for the next few days, at least. "Oh, and Sophie's afraid of the dark. She can't sleep alone. You and Stella can share a room. I'll stay with her." Our daughter tugged at his sleeve, her voice barely above a whisper. "Daddy, didn't you promise to watch the stars with me?" He shoved her away, impatient. "You're five years old. Start acting your age." Stella stumbled but didn't cry. She looked up at me and asked if the trip was canceled again. At that moment, I suddenly didn't want to fight anymore.

After Elena Jennings is reborn, she realizes that she has gone back in time to the year when she's still 27 years old. At the moment, she has one son and one daughter, and her husband is Lucas Fischer, the richest man in the world. Lucas has maintained his top spot steadily on the world's ranking for the richest people. He's also the ultimate dream man, crowned by magazines as the man women all over the globe want to marry the most. Even the royal family of Evgolia wishes to marry their princess to this very man. Everyone keeps claiming that Elena is extremely lucky to have married Lucas. But the first thing she does is seek out Lucas' first love, Sabrina Miller, with a divorce agreement in hand. As she pushes the divorce agreement toward Sabrina, she states calmly. "I want to get a divorce. Lucas and the children are all yours."

On the day of the company's annual gala, I quit my job and went back to the countryside, using up all my savings to help my best friend raise her daughter. She had died tragically, swept away by the river while trying to retrieve my hundred-million-dollar gala prize ticket that had fallen into the water. Wracked with guilt, I honored her dying wish and married her husband. After the wedding, I sold my blood and even a kidney just to make ends meet, raising my stepdaughter with everything I had. Eventually, she fulfilled her dream of winning the Best Actress Award and was about to marry the richest man in the country. But just as I was preparing to give a speech at her wedding, I saw my best friend, who had been dead for over a decade. She clutched my stepdaughter's hand and accused me of being a homewrecker who seduced her husband, and even claimed I had been the one who pushed her into the river all those years ago. Only then did I learn the truth—she had faked her death all those years ago, just to steal my prize ticket and travel the world, leaving me behind to raise her family. The shock sent me into a cerebral hemorrhage. When I opened my eyes again, I had gone back to the day she drowned.

On the fifth year of their marriage, finding the vitamin C her husband bought tasted too bitter, Jeanne Dotson went to the hospital with the bottle. The doctor took one look and frowned. "This isn't vitamin C." "I-I'm sorry, Doctor?" "I could say it a dozen times and it'd still be the same," the doctor replied, pointing at the bottle. "This is Mifepristone. Taking too much of it doesn't just cause infertility—it can do serious harm to your body." Jeanne felt a lump stuck in her throat, and her fingers turned pale from clenching the bottle. "That's impossible. My husband got this for me. His name is Darren Walsh—he's a doctor here too." The doctor looked up at her, his expression turning strange, tinged with something she couldn't quite read. After a pause, he gave a small smile. "Miss, you might want to visit the psych ward instead. We all know Dr. Walsh's wife—she gave birth just two months ago. Don't let your imagination run wild, all right? There's no point."