Short Romance Stories & Novels

My boyfriend goes viral after uploading a video of him being lovey-dovey with a woman. Everyone praises him for being handsome and a good boyfriend, but I don't even have the courage to like the video. Why? Because the woman in the video isn't me.

My husband's first love posted a video on her social media. In the video, the two of them were passing a playing card with their lips. When the card fell, their lips met in a kiss. They didn't stop—lost in the moment, they kissed passionately for an entire minute. Her caption read: [Still the same clumsy piggy! PS: Steve's skills are as good as ever!] I quietly liked the post and left a comment: [Congrats.] The next second, my husband called, yelling at me furiously, "No other woman is as dramatic as you! I was just playing a game with Lanie. Why are you acting crazy again?" It was then that I realized seven years of love meant nothing. It was time for me to leave.

Just as Justin proposed to me, a phone call interrupted him. Standing close by, I clearly heard the voice on the other end of the line. “Justin, I’m hurt. My leg hurts so much!” Justin snapped the ring box shut and looked at me. “Alice is injured. I’ll have to do this another time.” With those words, he sprinted away, leaving everyone around us staring in astonishment. I had never met Alice, but her presence lingered in every corner of our lives.  At meals, Justin would mention her fondness for sweet desserts.  When I dressed, I came to know her love for soft lavender hues. I argued, I wept, I lashed out, but Justin always countered with the same line. “You’re so jealous. Everyone has their first love. She’s my past, but you’re my future.” So, I turned to a man who had once called me his first love—Quentin—and made a bold proposition. “Let’s get married.”

I wheel myself into the birthday celebration that Wales Price has thrown for me. The atmosphere is originally lively, but a brief silence descends when everyone sees me. The guests are there for different purposes, but celebrating my birthday is not one of them. "Is that Mr. Price's crippled fiancée, Joey Hertza?" "Yeah, but the one he really loves is Anna Giovanni. I saw them kissing in a corner earlier." They use their wine glasses to block their mouths as they speak loudly. They think I'm still the crippled deaf I used to be. They don't know that I regained my hearing last week. I can hear every mocking comment they make. Meanwhile, Wales stands there and allows it to happen. He doesn't stop the guests from talking about me. He seems to have forgotten that I only ended up like this while protecting him. I shoved him away when the accident happened and got trapped underneath the car myself. When I was rescued, Wales swore to stay with me and care for me for life. It's only been three short years since then, but he's already changed. I receive a message on my phone. "Ms. Hertza, the lifelike corpse that you've ordered is now complete. Reply to this message with your confirmation, and your death-faking service will be immediately effective. We will send the corpse to your and Mr. Price's wedding in five days." I don't even hesitate as I reply with my confirmation. Enjoy your wedding, Wales.

An underwater volcano has been detected showing unusual activity, with the potential to erupt at any moment. Evacuations in the surrounding sea area have already begun. My husband, Ethan Gibson, boarded a lifeboat with his true love, Aria York, leaving me—his pregnant wife—behind. Not only that, he scolded me for being jealous at the worst possible time. "Aria can't swim. I have to take her first. What more do you want? I left the life jacket for you—isn't that enough?" "I'm pregnant… I'm scared…" I tried to plead. "Enough! Wendy, what's wrong with you? Why do you always have to be so dramatic?" That night, I was still nowhere to be found. Furious, he sent me a message: [Wendy! Where the hell are you? Do you have to take things this far?] [I'm telling you; I'm not coming to look for you. If you come back now, I'll act like this never happened. But if you don't, then don't bother coming back—ever!] However, Ethan… I couldn't come back anymore.

Orlando and I had been together for ten years. I'd looked after his sick mom, sweating out a fever of my own, and where was he? Knocking back drinks with Rosalind, playing therapist to her broken heart. I swallowed my pride at work, getting chewed out by my boss, while he spent the night companying Rosalind because she had cramps. Then, when I got the news my mom had passed, I tried calling him, desperate for support. But nope—phone off. After a wild goose chase, turns out he was at Rosalind's graduation. That was it. I gave up. But Orlando wouldn't let go. Red-eyed, he begged me for just one more chance.

My best friend and I grow up together, and we each have our childhood friends. When we're old enough, we marry our childhood friends. One is a doctor, and one is a firefighter. We even fall pregnant one after the other. During our pregnancies, we go out for a stroll. Suddenly, I'm rammed over, and I fall into the river. My best friend miscarries after trying to save me, and my child dies in my belly, too. I call my husband. However, he roars, "Cass is in danger; I have to save her first! Stop bothering me!" My best friend is also reprimanded by her husband. After giving birth to the dead fetuses, we both decide to get divorced. However, the two men weep and beg us not to leave.

My boyfriend found my menstruation disgusting and forced me to undergo subdermal implantation. From then on, I no longer had periods and couldn’t conceive. One day, I had a fever reaching 40°C and couldn’t contact him. I went to the hospital alone, only to stumble upon him attending a prenatal checkup with his secretary. He told her: “Baby, don’t worry about Claire. She only listens to me here, doesn’t she?” “We can postpone the wedding for another five years. She’s loyal to me like a dog anyway.” “In the meantime, keep fulfilling your end of the arrangement I’ve promised you.” “Of course, I’ll continue loving you... until I’m tired of you.” My heart shattered. I’d proposed to him 43 times in seven years, only to fail every single time. It turned out he just hadn’t gotten bored of me yet? This time, I decided not to wait any longer. I turned my back on him and agreed to the marriage my mother arranged in the countryside. On the day my ex was supposed to accompany me to try on wedding dresses, he found an empty room and a wedding invitation I left for him to celebrate my marriage to someone else. Panic consumed him as his world fell apart...

I'm abducted the day before my wedding. My abductors lock me in a dark cellar and repeatedly violate me. My legs are snapped, and I'm thrown out with a pile of trash while undressed. Someone takes a photo of me and shares it online. My family finds me a disgrace, so they send me to a hospital in the suburbs and hide me there. After half a year of treatment, my ovaries are removed due to extensive damage. My broken legs can't recover, and I lose the ability to walk. I'm supposed to be a rising star in dancing. Now, however, I'm forced to spend the rest of my life in a wheelchair. I can't even have children anymore. The Levy family sees photos of me online and immediately calls off my engagement to their son, Quentin Levy. They call me a shameless woman. Then, they make Quentin marry my sister, Laura Sorensen. I think my family will pity me, but my grandfather calls me a disgrace. He wants to disown me. At that moment, Quentin's brother, Elias Levy, proposes to me. "You've only had eyes for my brother in the past. Now that he's married, will you give me a chance to care for you?" He sounds determined, and the heartache in his eyes moves me. I agree to marry him. After we're married, Elias gives me the love and care I need. He doesn't allow anyone to harm me. A year later, I complete my treatment earlier than expected and return home to surprise him for our anniversary. That's when I overhear his conversation with my brother. "Elias, I helped you trick Jean out of the house two years ago, leading to her abduction and torture. That's why she's like this now. So you can't let her down." "I did all of this for Laura's happiness. As for Jean, I'll make sure she doesn't have to worry about survival for the rest of her life…"

I'm admitted to the hospital for gastritis, but my boyfriend shoots to his feet after receiving a call. "Chelsea has a fever. I'll go check on her; I'll be right back!" He runs off without waiting for me to say anything and doesn't return for the rest of the night. That night, I see a short clip that Chelsea Calloway has shared. "I'm not afraid of any illness with you by my side." I comment, "He is pretty good at caring for others."

When the earthquake struck on what should have been our fourth wedding anniversary, my supposedly devoted and family-oriented husband, Lionel Brooks, abandoned me and our children, who were trapped under the rubble. Despite our children's pleas for help, Lionel left without a second thought, carrying his former flame, Fiona Smith, and her daughter to safety. While Fiona and her daughter escaped with minor injuries, my precious children had their chests pierced by steel beams, leaving this world forever. It was such a twisted fate. What was meant to be a day of celebration turned into an annual day of mourning for my beautiful children. A week later, during my children's funeral, Lionel had the audacity to call and ask which hospital the kids were in. It was laughable—after ensuring Fiona and her child were comfortable and safe, he finally found time to check on his flesh and blood. I could only say, "You finally remembered your children after a whole week? Lionel, I hope you rot in hell."

My childhood sweetheart who promised to marry me the moment I graduated proposed to Camille Willow, my sister, during my graduation ceremony. At that moment, Dennis Malcolm, the most eligible and admired bachelor in Blington City's elite circle, stepped forward and confessed his love for me immediately after my childhood sweetheart's proposal was accepted. For five years after our marriage, Dennis showered me with devotion, treating me with such tenderness that it felt as though I were the center of his world. But everything shattered the day I overheard a conversation between him and his close friend. "Dennis, now that Camille's on top, are you really going to keep pretending with Tracy?" "It doesn't matter. I'll never have Camille. Besides, as long as I'm here, she'll never disrupt Camille's happiness," he answered. The paper notes he held dear, each one carefully preserved, revealed a harsh truth. Each one carried her name, accompanied by heartfelt wishes: "May Camille be released from her burdens. May she find peace within herself." "May Camille achieve all she dreams of, and may her heart love freely." "Camille, we were never meant to be together in this life. I can only hope that in another, we will walk side by side." … Five years of devotion shattered in a single moment of clarity. I crafted a false identity and planned an elaborate drowning to vanish without a trace. From this day forward, in this life and all others, we shall never cross paths again.

Five years ago, I was the rising star of the nation’s top chemistry research lab, but on the eve of publishing the results of my study, my husband’s crush, Grace, killed me. She made several people violate me and cut my face up. Then, she injected sulfuric acid into my stomach, crushed my teeth and bones, and discarded my body without anyone’s knowledge. At that time, I was three months pregnant. But she told everyone that I stole the project’s research results and fled to another country. Jim, my husband, personally wrote a report to the government to label me as a globally wanted criminal. Five years later, a livestreamer who did nighttime explorations found my dried-up corpse in the basement of an abandoned warehouse.

For another girl, Lex Hamilton—my fiancé of several years—dumped me in the middle of nowhere and left me to fend for myself. Three years later, he showed up with her to bring me back. "It's been three years," he said. "Even a dog would've learned its lesson by now. I did this for your own good. If you don't fix that attitude of yours, don't expect to ever become my wife." They thought I'd crumble. They thought I'd beg, cling to him, and unload all the pain and humiliation I'd carried for the past three years. Instead, I smiled. "Sorry, Mr. Hamilton. I'm already married."

The day Eve Jones came back to town, Zac Gibson did not come home all night. The next day, I saw a post on her social media, showing a photo of two hands tightly intertwined, along with Zac’s peaceful, childlike sleeping face. When he finally came home, he threw divorce papers at me and said, "You’ve been standing in Eve’s place this whole time. Now that she’s back, it’s time for you to move on." It did not matter anymore. I was not going to live much longer anyway. Whoever wanted the title of "Mrs. Gibson" could have it. Later, I died. But Zac cried at my grave, kneeling, promising he would never hold anyone else’s hand again.

The fifth year of my marriage to Silas marked a turning point I would never forget. Our son, Yael, was kidnapped. The ransom was set at ten million dollars, an insignificant amount for Silas, yet his response chilled me to the core. “No rush. A Gardner needs to experience some hardships to grow.” Ten million meant nothing to him, but Yael’s life meant everything to me. I dropped to my knees, tears streaming down my face, and begged him relentlessly, pleading for Yael to be brought home as soon as possible. Silas, however, remained unmoved. Three days later, Yael was returned to us, but the cheerful boy I knew was gone. He had been so traumatized that he could not speak. Far from showing concern, Silas coldly remarked, “Yuna said Yael keeps telling everyone at school she’s a fatherless child. Let’s see how he spreads lies now.” His words cut through me like a knife. I picked Yael up in my arms and whispered softly in his ear, “Don’t be afraid, Yael. Mommy will take you away from here.”

At a press conference, business tycoon Charles Lewis and heiress Julia announced their relationship. As reporters frantically clicked their cameras to capture the breaking news, Julia's assistant suddenly collapsed. Bright red blood spread beneath her, forming a pool of blood. With a calm expression, Charles turned to the stunned reporters and explained, "She's pregnant but insists on working. Maybe she just wants attention." I lost my child and my uterus after that incident. At the same time, I became the target of online outrage. I was the assistant, and Charles was my legal husband.

Caleb Lawson's childhood sweetheart, Yvette Grant, is pregnant. No one knows who the father is. Caleb decides to claim the child as his for the sake of her reputation. Meanwhile, my child turns into a bastard whose father is unknown. "Yvie has always been obedient—getting pregnant out of wedlock is too cruel a fate for her. She won't be able to accept the criticism and mockery." His simple explanation turns our five-year relationship into a joke. Later, my family bring me to the hospital for an abortion. Caleb stays by Yvette's side, caring for her like she's a precious treasure. By the time he gets home, I've already aborted the baby and left him.

Our seventh wedding anniversary. I sat at the dining table—alone. My phone buzzed, lighting up with two messages. First, from Tom: [Working late at the office tonight.] Second, anonymous: [Tom is incredible. Can you even keep up?] Attached was a picture of him, lips locked with a woman I didn't recognize. I blew out the candles on the anniversary cake. Eyes shut, I typed back: [Let's divorce.]

I'm staring at this man who looks exactly like my husband, overwhelmed by fear, as I received a message that read, "He's not your husband!"What's even more bizarre is that the name displayed as the sender of the text on my phone is "My Dear Husband"!Who on earth should I believe?