Cerita Pendek Plot Twists & Novel Unattainable Love Regret

For our second anniversary, Nolan Cole and I went whale watching in Monterey, but when we checked in, the hotel manager told us our room had been set up the way Nolan's ex-girlfriend liked it. He had dated Zoe Hart for eight years, and she cast a constant shadow over our relationship. That day, Nolan gave me a sheepish look. "They've gotten used to setting it up that way. They probably just assumed. Don't overthink it." My hands curled into fists. We had an early whale-watching trip the next morning, so I tried three times to wake Nolan. He just patted my head and smiled. "It's all the same. You get on a boat, find a spot, and take some pictures. Zoe and I already did it, so go by yourself." So I had no choice but to board alone. The waves were unusually rough that day. I got so seasick I could barely see straight, and I never saw a whale breach. When Nolan picked me up, one of the crew members seemed to recognize him. The man waved his hands excitedly and dug out two photos. In one, Nolan had Zoe wrapped in his arms against the cold. In the other, he and Zoe were kissing in front of a pod of leaping whales. Furious, I pushed him away and went back to the hotel alone. On the third day, I said I wanted to drive south down Highway One. Nolan sighed and said flatly, "Zoe and I have done that drive plenty of times. I've seen it all before, and I don't want to do it again." Suddenly, it all felt completely pointless. He'd already done everything with Zoe. That was where I decided our relationship would end.

Due to an accident, my wife and I lost our lives in a massive fire. When we open our eyes again, we find ourselves back on the day we registered our marriage. In our last life, everyone thought we were the perfect couple. Little did they know that my wife, Queenie Lloyd, refused to consummate our marriage. Right before my death, I found out that I was nothing but a replacement for her first love. Queenie had intended to remain chaste for him for the rest of her life. After being reborn, neither of us speaks of the past. By an unspoken agreement, we get a divorce that very day and go on to live separate lives. Eight years later, she attends an industry summit holding her childhood sweetheart's arm. She's now a rising star in the business world. I am dressed in plain clothes. When she notices me, she walks over with a champagne glass in hand. "Mr. Lawrence! Even if you still have feelings for me, you didn't have to disguise yourself as a waiter just to approach me. Are you still trying to convince me to get back together with you?" she sneers. I ignore her and smile as I wave at someone nearby. My son runs over to me and tugs on the corner of my shirt. "Mommy said she's tired, Daddy. She wants to know when you're coming to pick us up," he tells me. Upon hearing this, Queenie's face stiffens immediately, and she almost drops her wine glass.

When my husband learns of his first love's death, he jumps from the cruise ship where we are spending our honeymoon, ending his life. Only then do I realize he has never gotten over Clara Levine. Reborn back to his teenage years, he resolutely lets go of my hand and walks toward his first love. I watch them leave together, then turn and walk away. From that moment on, our lives become nothing more than two parallel lines that will never meet. Ten years later, we run into each other at a banquet in Oceanus City. He has become a rising star among the elite, with Clara appearing on his arm, intimately holding onto him. When he sees me accidentally wander into the banquet, he can't help but give me advice. "Stop obsessing over me. Even if you wait for me for ten years, I still won't fall in love with you." I ignore him and pull my son out from the corner where he's sneaking cake. His eyes suddenly turn bloodshot as he grabs my hand tightly. "How dare you try to make me jealous on purpose? Didn't you say you would only love me for your entire life?" he says.

I was born into the noble Valerie family, gifted by blood with the rare ability to bond with vampires and bear them powerful hybrid children. Since I was a child, I had been secretly in love with James, the vampire noble I was betrothed to. Everyone knew his heart belonged to one person only — his childhood companion, Vicky. But she was engaged to James's older brother. The night of their engagement banquet, James accepted my confession. He said we could try. I nodded and told him I didn't mind. I was willing to wait until he let her go. Then he gave the wedding I had designed with my own hands to Vicky. He stood in the groom's place, holding her hand through the rehearsal. And I stood below the stage, the laughingstock of the entire room. That night, he got drunk. He held me and said he loved me. I thought he had finally laid down his obsession, so once again I forgave him and let go of my pride. Until he called out Vicky’s name. In that moment, I finally understood. The one James loved would never be me. I had stored up enough disappointment. The next day, I disappeared from his world for good. Five years later, I ran into him by chance, a hybrid boy in my arms. He came rushing toward me like a man gone mad, eyes red, begging me to come back.

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.

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.

My wife's first love kills me without a shred of mercy. But my wife, a world-class surgeon, doesn't try to save me. Instead, she comforts her first love. "He's so ruthless! How could he hurt you this badly?" She even tells the police that I've severely injured her first love, claiming she wants to press charges for attempted murder. Then she points at my body and demands that I get up and apologize to her first love. "Charles, stop pretending! You just want me to pity you, right? Get up and apologize to Steven!" she yells.

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.

When Penelope Lawson opened her eyes, her brother was already drugged. "Penny… I'm so hot..." Her brother—a man who was usually ice-cold and completely untouchable—was driven out of his mind by the aphrodisiac. Throwing all restraint to the wind, his ragged breath brushed against her neck as his lips pressed desperately against her skin. In her past life, she would have let the mistake happen. But this time, she shoved him off with all her strength and immediately dialed his first love’s number. Because in her last life, every single tragedy began on this exact night. A night when she had allowed herself to fall for the brother who shared none of her blood.

Everyone in New York knew my name—Bella Moreau. I was the one person Theo Romano, the city's most feared mob boss, would kill to protect. Anyone who defied me or so much as looked at me the wrong way never escaped his wrath. But when his first love, Eve Laurent, returned, he turned me into a tool to please her, showering her with all the affection that had once been mine. Eve casually claimed I'd slapped her. The very next day, an assassin came after me, leaving me with two broken ribs. Eve claimed I'd smashed the jewelry Theo had bought her. The next day, I was kidnapped, stripped naked, and humiliated. Eve accused me of pushing her down the stairs and breaking her leg. Theo threw me into the basement and left me there for three days without a single drop of water. Day after day, he watched me grow quieter. I stopped arguing with him and making a scene. He thought he'd finally broken me, sanding away every rough edge until I became the obedient, understanding wife he'd always wanted. What he didn't know was that today was the 1,826th day we'd been together. Our secret marriage agreement would expire today. At last, I was finally free.

As floodwaters rushed into the garage, I called my boyfriend. "Wade, help me... I'm trapped in here! The emergency exit's locked!" He sounded annoyed. "Tia, stop. Mandy's cat is stuck in a tree—we're handling it!" Then he hung up, taking the rescue team with him. My last hope was gone.

To save up for my wife’s expensive asthma medication, I worked the dangerous high-rise job around our apartment complex, even on a day with winds strong enough to knock someone off their feet. However, that was when I accidentally witnessed my wife cheating on me with her ex-boyfriend, and to entertain him, she picked up a fruit knife and slowly cut through my safety rope. My body slammed into the ground so hard that the impact shattered the bones in my leg. Only later did I learn the truth: the one with asthma wasn’t my wife at all—it was her first love. All the money I’d been saving for her? She had been giving him every cent. Eventually, the same cold, proud woman I once married ended up on her knees in front of me, begging for help. I called the building security over and had them drag her out. “Get that filth out of here,” I said. “It’s hurting my eyes.”

On the day I'm due for my labor, Chad Nelson's first love, Lucy Baker, who's diagnosed with depression, barges into the maternity ward. Without warning, she plunges the knife she's holding into my belly. By the time Chad and the medical team arrive at the ward, I'm already lying in a pool of my own blood on the bed. The machine recording my vitals keeps screeching loudly the whole time. But Chad crouches down next to Lucy, who has gotten shoved to the floor by a nurse earlier. It seems that her elbow has suffered from light abrasions. "Dr. Nelson, your spouse is in critical condition. She needs to undergo a surgery immediately!" Chad raises his head to glance at me. His tone is cool and professional. "None of Caitlin's vital organs are hurt by the stab, so she can still endure the pain for now. Lucy, on the other and, has a coagulation disorder. Even though she has only suffered from abrasions, there's a chance that her blood flow can't be staunched at all. This makes her situation more critical than Caitlin's. "Anyway, give the two bags of blood in the blood bank to Lucy." When I get pushed away, I use all of my strength to grip Chad's white coat tightly. He just frowns at me in return. "Lucy didn't do this on purpose. Her depression has gotten triggered, that's all. Since you're a woman of medicine, you should be more empathetic toward the patient." After that, Chad digs out a letter of forgiveness from his pocket that he has already printed out in advance.

My husband Marcus Ashford has severe social anxiety. In three years of marriage, he refused to meet a single one of my friends or family. Even our wedding was just the two of us, because he said a crowd would trigger a panic attack. Because it hurt me to see him like that, I put up with my parents' disappointment and my friends' confusion, made every excuse for him, and guarded his fragile little world with both hands. That changed tonight, when I stumbled onto the social media page of his first love, newly returned from overseas. In the photos, Marcus moved through the room with Chloe, working the toasts with total ease, laughing wide and unguarded. I opened the next live photo, and a snatch of conversation came out of it. "Marcus, isn't today your father-in-law's birthday too? You're not going to swing by?" Marcus answered as though it were nothing, "Going would just be pointless socializing. A waste of time. I'd rather stay here with Chloe." I went through those few photos over and over, more times than I could count, until my eyes were dry and stinging, and then I shut off the screen without a word. Then I called a lawyer and had the divorce papers drawn up. So his world was full of voices and noise after all. It simply refused to open for me, and for me alone. Fine. If the party wasn't mine, I wasn't going to keep forcing my way in.

During the third year of our marriage, my husband's ex—whom he dated for eight years—suddenly shares a photo of a ten-million-dollar marital home on her social media. It's captioned, "I've finally gotten a mansion! Who's the best at dating? I am!" I gape at the image—I see my husband swiping his card at the real estate sales office in a corner of the photo. I leave a question mark in the comments. In the next second, my husband calls me to tell me off. "I'm just making good on a promise I made her when we were dating—to buy her a marital home. Why did you have to go insult her like that? Are you evil enough to turn me into a man who goes back on his word?" That evening, his ex shares another photo of a million-dollar renovation bill. I know it's a gift from my husband to appease her, but I don't care anymore…

A month before my due date, I slipped while taking a shower, and my Apple Watch immediately alerted my husband, Don Dante Romano. Yet I lay on the cold bathroom floor for an hour, and he never came. He was at the Valenti family's private racetrack, racing with his first love, Victoria Valenti. My watch kept sending alerts, but he stayed with her until she finished her last lap. On the morning our daughter turned one month old, I started packing our bags. I had already gotten back in touch with the people who had worked for my father in LA. The christening party in seven days wasn't going to be a fresh start for the three of us. That was the final deadline I'd given him. When it came, I would leave with my daughter and take back the throne I had once handed him. I didn't need a husband who always put me last.

A week before my death, my Alpha mate's childhood sweetheart Sarah returned to our pack. That night, he didn't come home. The next day, I received his mind-link. "I've purchased a mate-bond severing potion from the pack witch. Come home now so we can break our bond." In our pack, the Moon Goddess was very serious about mate bonds. Once two wolves chose to form a mate, the mate bond could not be severed, unless the witch's potion was used. This potion was very expensive, costing up to $500,000 per bottle. I smiled bitterly. He was very generous to sever the bond with me. I coughed twice before answering, "I'm in the healing center." His voice turned ice cold. "I don't care where you are. Even if you're about to die, you need to come back." I calmly replied, "Fine." He didn't know that I really was dying. Three years ago, during a rogue wolf attack, I blocked the silver dagger for him to protect him while he was unconscious. I was poisoned by silver and became weaker and weaker over the past three years. I only had one week left to live. On the day of my funeral, my mate was busy holding his marking ceremony with Sarah. Later, he knelt before my grave in pristine white ceremonial clothes, clutching my headstone and whispering through tears. "If there's another life after this one, I still want to marry you." That day was his marking ceremony with his childhood sweetheart. It was also my funeral.

Joshua Thompson, Rain Zimmer’s husband, had a deceased ex he could never get over—Lily Smithson. Rain always hoped that there would come one day where she could replace Lily’s presence in Joshua’s heart. In the eighth year of their marriage, Rain accidentally destroyed a bowl Lily had bought on a whim for Joshua, and Joshua yelled at her, “Get out! I don’t want to see you!” At that moment, Rain finally came to realize that she could never win against Rain’s ex. This time, she quietly drafted the divorce agreement and left, but Joshua panicked.

On the day I was supposed to get matching tattoos with Zach Cross, I waited at the studio from sunrise until nightfall. The tattoo artist glanced at me nervously. “Miss Annie, is the Godfather still coming? Maybe we should reschedule.” I lowered my eyes and forced a smile. “He promised he’d be here. I’ll wait a little longer.” Two hours later, Zach finally arrived. He was not alone. Julie Williams walked in behind him. She was carrying his jacket. When she saw me sitting in the tattoo chair, she offered an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry, Annie. I had no idea you two had a tattoo appointment today. Otherwise, I would’ve never asked Zach to pick me up from the airport.” Zach walked right past me. He glanced around the empty studio and said, “Let's begin.” Before I could say a word, he pointed at the tattoo chair and turned to Julie. “You first.” Julie froze for a second. She glanced at me, then reluctantly took the seat. The tattoo artist turned to look at me. Standing off to the side, I overheard Zach’s men whispering among themselves. “After all these years, Miss Julie is still the perfect match for the Godfather.” “Yeah. It’s a shame things didn’t work out back then.” I looked at Zach. I knew he had heard every word. However, instead of denying it, he turned to me and said coldly, “Julie’s here today. Watch your attitude. Don’t embarrass me.” My gaze drifted to his left hand’s ring finger. It was still bare. He once told me he would hide my name inside the petals of a rose tattoo—a secret only the two of us would ever know about. I worked with the tattoo artist through seven different revisions to get the design just right. When he proposed, he held my hand and said, “The most painful mark I’ll ever wear will belong to you alone.” I put on a bitter smile. Unfortunately, none of the marks he carried had ever truly belonged to me.

I was the pack's chief healer, but my fiancé Domine was just an ordinary warrior from the neighboring pack. I didn't care about that because I believed in the guidance of the moon goddess. I worked hard to earn money, bought a house, and supported us both. But just a week before our Mating Ceremony, I discovered that Domine wasn't some ordinary warrior, but actually the Alpha of neighboring pack. He hid his identity to get close to me just to seek revenge for his first love. Three years ago, his first love secretly entered the forbidden zone and ate poisonous fruit. I fought with all my might to save her life, but she framed me for intentionally poisoning her and causing her to lose her wolf. Domine believed her. He even promised to publicly extract my heart’s blood during the ceremony to supplement Ella's strength and turn me into a complete cripple. He even stole my father’s life-saving medicine to make scented candles for her, which caused the death of my only relative. After discovering the truth, I didn't hesitate to turn around and leave. But Domine, who harbored a deep hatred for me, completely broke down. He knelt in the snow for three days and three nights, begging me to look at him just one more time.