Rushed Novels & Stories

On our fifth wedding anniversary, my wife, who had struggled with fertility for years, suddenly felt nauseous. The college student we had been sponsoring panicked and rushed her to the hospital. Half an hour later, she called me. "I'm pregnant." I was thrilled, until her next words froze me in place. "The father's the college student, the one we've been supporting. He got sick that night and I felt bad for him, so I stayed over. I didn't think anything would happen. We have to keep this quiet. He's graduating soon and joining our company. We can't let this mess things up for him. "And you need to quit your job, so he can take your position. I'm going to need you home to take care of me." The sheer audacity left me speechless, but I kept my voice level. "Okay." She hung up, satisfied. What she did not know was that years ago, someone had made me a promise. If I turned 30 years old and still did not have a child, she would give me one. Today was my 30th birthday.

Just 8 years ago she had packed up the only life she knew and run away. Away from the clutches of her small town life. Now she is forced to go back to that pathetic place. She cursed under her breath as she got off at the railway station. She was back, the realization had finally hit her, her eyes moistened and her cheeks flushed. But she told herself that it was because of the cold wind. She won't cry, not now, or all she had done would be for nothing. She picked her bags, clutched their handles tightly and walked out of the railway station towards the parking spot. Mason was waiting for her there, the only person she still talks to from her hometown. He rushed upto her, took her bags, placed them in trunk and opened the car door for Cornelia. Once they both were settled and warm inside the car, he finally asked her, "How are u Cornelia?" This question sort of opened her tear doors, she started sobbing trying her best not to cry. ......................... A series of unfortunate events have pushed Cornelia Von back to her hometown. A place she willfully despises!! But there is an interesting new comer waiting for her in this town :)

When I was three months pregnant, a pack of Rogues ambushed me. In the last moments before my consciousness began to fade, I begged for rescue through my mind-link to my Alpha mate, Adrian. But he never answered. I was rushed to the hospital for emergency treatment, only to be informed that the Saint-Tier Healer had been forcefully taken South by Adrian to treat Evelyn, his first love, after she lost her mate. When I woke to the pain of losing my pup, my fingers shook as I checked social media, then I saw Evelyn's post: [I knew that no matter how far away I am or how much time has passed, Adrian would always come for me. He even brought a Saint-Tier Healer to ease the pain in my heart.] In the photo, Adrian's dark eyes, which were usually cold and distant, were focused on the woman beside him with tenderness. While I was fighting for my life and losing our cub, my Alpha was protecting another pregnant wolf. I chuckled at myself bitterly. It felt as if the bond mark on my chest was withering away. I then dialed a number without hesitation. "Dr. Clark, I accept the position at the Northern Ancient Wolf Research Institute. Yes, the sooner the better. I won't be holding a farewell ceremony."

I'd never forget how cold the icy waters of the Sandford River were. In my previous life, I was Dalia Valentino, the future Donna of the Rossi family that they'd already acknowledged. But later on, I got betrayed by my fiance, Marco Rossi, and my cousin, Alice Palermo. They stole my betrothal contract away and took over my family's resources. In the end, they used me as a human shield and got me killed during a crossfire between our families. The moment I felt a bullet penetrating my chest, I saw Marco protecting Alice. As for my childhood friend, Riccardo Corleone, who had always watched me from behind, rushed over to me like a madman. He scooped my cooling corpse into his arms before letting out an anguished roar. That was why after I got reborn, I didn't hesitate to kick Marco to the curb and marry Riccardo, resulting in me becoming the Donna of the Corleone family. I thought Riccardo was my savior. Little did I know that fate was just playing a crueler prank on me. Both men had always been in love with the same woman this whole time. In this case, I decided to quit this game of romance and deceit.

On the day of our wedding, my fiance Thomas Warsh was killed in a car accident on the way there. His adopted sister rushed toward me, clutching his ashes, accusing me of being a jinx who brought him misfortune. I was drowning in grief when a line of floating comments suddenly appeared before my eyes. [You must remain a widow for three years for your deceased husband. After three years, he will be reincarnated and return to love you again!] [Don’t ever remarry. Otherwise, the male lead will never rest in peace, and you will suffer for the rest of your life!] That was when I learned that my fiancé and I were the hero and heroine of a novel. Only by following the spoilers in the comments and completing the storyline could I reunite with him. I did not remarry. Guided by the comments, I remained a widow for three years, and then another three. However, it was not until I suddenly died from a severe illness that I discovered the truth–the comments had all been written by Thomas. He had faked his death, changed his appearance, married his adopted sister, and fed me endless empty promises so I would continue to slave away for the Warsh family. When I opened my eyes again, I had returned to the day before the wedding.

To give my girlfriend a surprise on our anniversary, I forced myself to finish five days' worth of business in just three. I rushed back overnight. However, the moment I reached my front door, I stopped. Laughter and lively chatter spilled out from inside. Only a minute earlier, Sheila Jones had texted me, saying she was home alone and missed me badly. Then I heard someone call out from the room: "Sheila, your turn! Truth or dare, and make it a good one!" "Oh, you're all so nosy," she laughed. "Fine, I'll tell you, but you can't tell Erick." "Come on, say it already! Like we'd ever tell." "My first time," she said, "was with Yoel." The room erupted in knowing laughter and teasing cheers. I stood frozen. Yoel Lewis? Was not he supposed to be Sheila's closest guy friend? Before I could even wrap my head around it, Yoel chuckled and added lightly, "First time? That's not all. We even had a kid together." I pushed the door open and stepped inside, smiling as I looked at the two of them. "Really?" I said calmly. "Then where's the child?"

On my birthday, my mother-in-law had barely been wheeled out of surgery when she was rushed straight into the ER again. Then, a newly posted video from an intern went viral. In it, the intern held a scalpel and sliced open my mother-in-law's abdomen, while the surgeon who was supposed to be leading the operation, my husband, was nowhere in sight. 'People say an intern has no business being in the operating room? That's all right. My man, the department head, indulges me.' My husband's coworkers reacted warmly, saying the two of them made quite a pair. I forwarded the video to the hospital director without hesitation. … Before long, my husband called. His breathing came hard and uneven, his voice breaking between words. "I forgot your birthday. Big deal. Did you really have to run to the director and accuse me of breaking hospital rules? I'm done with you and your ridiculous tantrums. Even if my mom takes your side this time, I'm still divorcing you." He hung up before I could say a word. What he didn't know was that his mother would never take my side again. Because the patient who hemorrhaged and died after being operated on by that intern was his mother.

Our daughter, Luna Woods, developed a high fever. Her body was burning hot. I immediately dialed 911 for help. The dispatcher on the other end kept repeating his questions. He spoke slowly, as if deliberately stalling for time. By the time I finally heard the ambulance siren, Luna was already turning cold in my arms. In less than a year, my wife and I separated. We were consumed by endless grief and blamed for each other. Afterward, I merely existed for the sake of it. I was a hollow shell of a man. Then, one day, I received a wedding invitation from my ex-wife. The moment I played the audio invitation, a chill ran down my spine. The groom’s voice was identical to that of the slow, dawdling dispatcher from that year! I rushed out, utterly distraught, only to be hit by a roaring train. When I opened my eyes again, I heard Luna crying in the next room. Her forehead was burning hot. My wife hurriedly handed me the phone. “Quick, call 911! I’ll get a wet towel.” My hands trembled as I took the phone. When it was answered, I heard a familiar male voice through the receiver. “911, what’s your emergency?”

I'm supposed to become the valedictorian of the state, but I decide to not attend the SATs. After all, in my previous life, my best friend, Bianca Walters, had made a pact with a tenfold transfer system. The three-million-dollar prize money I had obtained from becoming the state valedictorian was transferred into Bianca's account. On top of that, it was increased by ten times as well. Just like that, Bianca moved on from wearing faded old clothes to limited branded apparel. She even muttered, "What's the point of being a top scorer even though you're poor? At the end of the day, you'll still slave away for us rich people!" Enraged, I rushed over and demanded Bianca for answers. But my boyfriend, James Tipps, was quick to shield her from me and yelled at me for being a crazy lady who was jealous of others. Since my mom couldn't get her illness treated due to the lack of money, she ended up dying with resentment in her eyes. Overwhelmed by despair, I took my life by jumping off a building. Beep! When I open my eyes again, I realize that I've gotten reborn. This time, I've also made a pact with the tenfold transfer system.

A plane crash tore my husband and his twin brother apart. One survived. One did not. When I rushed to the hospital, I saw my brother-in-law, who had just survived the crash, locked in a passionate kiss with his wife. My husband? He lay lifeless in the morgue. Blinded by grief, I stumbled down the stairs…and lost the child I had spent three years longing for. Three years passed. Just as I was finally learning to breathe without him, I overheard a conversation between his closest friend and my brother-in-law: "How long do you plan to keep pretending to be your brother? Alicia is your legal wife." He adjusted his glasses, voice icy and distant. "I swore to my brother I'd protect Emily for the rest of my life. I am him now. As for Alicia… let her be the debt I carry into my next life." That's when I learned the truth. It was the brother-in-law who died in the crash. My husband, the man I had mourned all those years, had taken on his brother's identity to stay by Emily's side, the unattainable woman he had always secretly loved. So then what about me? The woman clinging to old memories, living in torture for three years. What was I to him?