Message Board Wattpad Novels & Stories

He almost never texts me first, and in person he barely says a word. In three years together, he's never remembered a single anniversary, and he's never once suggested we celebrate a holiday. But the second I message him first, he lights up, all "baby" this and "baby" that, fussing over me, coaxing me to sleep. Sometimes I'd get this strange feeling that there were two different Noahs. His explanation was that he was just bad with words face-to-face, and that texting or voice notes felt like less pressure. I kept telling myself that being together meant meeting each other halfway. He was quiet and reserved, so I'd be the one to reach out. He forgot anniversaries, so I booked the restaurant and reminded him to keep the night free. He had no time to schedule our engagement shoot, so I handled the whole thing with the studio myself. He was too busy with work to help us move, so I packed everything alone, booked the movers, and got it all done. When I was so worn out I was about to break, I'd send him a voice note, and he'd say, "I'm so sorry, baby. The lab was insane today. I couldn't be there for you, and it kills me to watch you run yourself into the ground." Hearing how guilty he sounded, all my hurt just melted away. And that's how I carried three years of this relationship on my own, running on the flawless tenderness he only ever gave me online. Until today, when I found a program on his laptop called Boyfriend Assistant. It analyzed every message I sent and generated the perfect reply, the perfect response, every single time. Cold snap? It sent: Bundle up, baby. Time of the month? It pinged an API and auto-ordered hot chocolate to my door. All those late nights he spent "working," the gentle voice notes that lulled me to sleep, every one of them was synthesized in Noah's voice. For three years, the person who'd been there for me, day and night, was never Noah at all. For three years, I'd been performing a one-woman show.

Nathaniel Hemlock was once one of the most feared pirates to ever sail the seas. His endless quest for gold and power claimed many lives but never concerned him since his heart had long hardened. That is until one day that desire took a dark turn. For power and gold he traded not only his own soul but that of his crew. Now he is cursed to sail the seas until the end of time, unless 1000 more souls are given, one a year...all must be children which was one of the only things he would never do. Present day. Lloyd has always scoffed at the legends that bring visitors to his town near the sea, and with the arrival of a movie crew it's gotten worse. Returning home one evening he sees a strange, old fashioned boat docked and curiously decides to board it. A decision he soon regrets. Once onboard he cannot leave. Nathaniel is not best pleased but there is little he can do and decides to use Lloyd as a cabin boy to make himself useful while he continues to search for another way of breaking his curse and freeing his crew. Their lives will soon become more entwined and perhaps Lloyd is the one who can warm the frozen heart.

At Stanton University, power is currency and morality is optional. Juhoon Choi aka Trunks sits at the top of the Diamond Board — heir to an empire, untouchable, and emotionally unreadable. Park Suhee stands beside him as his lifelong protector, confidante, and silent lover, hiding years of devotion behind loyalty and restraint. Then Angelique Rochefort transfers in. Elegant. Calculated. Dangerous. She arrives with one purpose: to kill Trunks. She seduces her way into his life, manipulating his trust, isolating him from Suhee, and turning Stanton’s elite against each other. What begins as a carefully executed revenge scheme soon spirals into something far more dangerous when real emotions surface — love, jealousy, and obsession. As scandals erupt, alliances fracture, and lies are weaponized, Suhee becomes collateral damage in a war she never chose. Betrayal cuts deep, intimacy becomes a weapon, and the line between victim and villain blurs beyond recognition. But vengeance has a price and when the truth finally emerges, redemption may come only through sacrifice. In a world ruled by power, love is the most dangerous gamble of all. Because in a world ruled by power, love is the most dangerous weakness of all, and at Stanton University, every heart hides a motive—and every kiss can kill.

After I secured early admission to one of the country's most prestigious universities, my old high school invited me back to sit for the State Scholars Exam and compete for the top statewide score. But just ten minutes into the math paper, the proctor out of nowhere accused me of cheating. "Everyone else starts with the multiple-choice section. You went straight for the proofs. Were you planning to copy someone else's answers later?" Before I could explain a single word, he dragged me into the boys' restroom. Not only was I humiliated and forced to strip, I also had to let him inspect me over and over again to confirm that I had no cheating devices on my body. After I returned to the exam room, I decided it was better not to cause more trouble, so I started from the multiple-choice section like everyone else. But less than five minutes after I sat down, he yanked me up again. "This is even more fake. You didn't even take time to read or think through the questions before writing down the options. If that isn't cheating, what is?" "I suspect you knew the answers in advance. I'm reporting this to the exam board right now and having your exam qualification revoked!"

"Honey, the soles of my shoes are lambskin. They can't get wet. Come pick me up." I had just sent Preston Hale that message when a swarm of floating comments suddenly exploded through the rain. [I'm so sick of this drama-queen villainess. The male lead is a billionaire CEO, and she's treating him like a dog.] [Our darling heroine has already joined the company. Once the male lead sees how gentle and sensible she is, he'll dump this woman right away.] [Lol. After the divorce, she won't know how to do anything. She'll have to become some sleazy livestreamer.] Watching the screen fill with malice, I clenched my fingers in anger. Just then, Preston came running over with an umbrella, half of his custom suit soaked through. When he saw my pale knuckles, he froze, then carefully tugged at my sleeve. "I'm sorry, honey. Any faster and I'd have been speeding."

My boyfriend and his godsister were caught by the vice squad at a scandalous party. When I went to the police station to bail him out, he was disheveled, his exposed skin marked with dried candle wax and whiplash scars. His godsister, Sonia, clung to him, sobbing into his arms. “The light in Sonia’s house was broken. It was too dark, so I went to accompany her,” he said. I couldn’t help but wonder, Did he accompany her all the way to the police station too? In the past, I would’ve demanded an explanation, but I was too tired now—too drained to argue. Without a word, I signed the papers. The vice squad officer looked at me and asked, “Are you Anthony Leeman’s family?” I shook my head. “No, I’m not familiar with him. Just a colleague.” Lowering my gaze, I typed out a message to my father: [I agree to get married. Give me three days, and I’ll marry him.]

A 22 year old Cheryl Garcia finds herself dropping out of college and moving back to the Upper East side of New York all because of a crazy night with her high school sweetheart, Enrique Gomez. She believes that he only wants the family business as that’s what the previous men in her life wanted. However as soon as she gets home she is forced to work for the new CEO of her fathers company. She finds that she can’t escape Enrique. She finds a way to let Enrique in for a while and she’s happy until she receives a message that her ex boyfriend, Leandro is on his way to get her . All her past trauma comes rushing back, opening so many wounds she thought she closed . She gets nightmares, panic attacks and loses her memory from time to time. Will she ever let Enrique know how she truly feels ? Will she finally open up to him? Will they take down their enemies together?

On the night before the wedding, New York was washed in cold rain. The rehearsal at St. Patrick's Cathedral had been set for seven o'clock. Under the vaulted ceiling, the white roses, black satin bows, and silver candelabras had all been arranged exactly the way I wanted. But by the time the rehearsal ended, he still hadn't shown up. At 11:17 that night, I finally got a message from him. [Sophia is pregnant. Although the baby isn’t mine, I can’t let her child be born carrying the name of an illegitimate child.] [I went to City Hall with her tonight and made it legal.] [The wedding is still happening tomorrow.] [That piece of paper is just a formality. The person standing at the altar will still be you.] [Don't let outsiders know too much. And don't ruin her reputation.] I stared at those lines for a long time. In the end, I replied with a single word. [Okay.] I don't want the wedding and you.

After a car accident, my memory ended ten years ago, on the night I got down on one knee and proposed to Adrian Halloway. I tore through every app on my phone, desperate to find proof that Adrian was my husband, but in my contacts, there was only one number. My message threads were completely blank. Helpless, I called my best friend, Hannah Price, to ask if my proposal that night had actually worked. She exploded at me like a firecracker, "Juliana Rowe, have you completely lost your mind? Worked? You’ve been trying to divorce the man!" The first thing that flashed through my head when I hung up was, 'Damn, I’m impressive. I actually managed to land the untouchable Adrian Halloway.' The second thing was staring at the handwritten divorce agreement on my nightstand with total confusion. 'Who’s getting divorced? Me? I’m the one who wants this? What the hell is wrong with me?'

On our son's fifth birthday, the three of us went to watch a meteor shower. In the middle of it, my husband answered a phone call and left in a hurry. Late that night, our son had an asthma attack. The only medicine he needed was in my husband's car. I clutched my son and ran through the empty wilderness, stumbling in the dark as I called my husband over and over again. All I got back was an icy message: [Something urgent. Do not disturb.] The next day, he finally called. However, the voice on the other end was not his. "Last night, my dog suddenly fell ill and died. Elias was worried I wouldn't take it well, so he stayed with me all night. He has just fallen asleep. If you have anything to say, you can tell me." I stroked my son's pale, bluish face. "Tell him," I said, "we're getting a divorce."