First Time の小説・ストーリー

The day my husband, Stellan Montclair, was killed in battle, my cousin, Daphne Langford, wept and declared she would follow him in death. No one asked for my opinion. By the time I arrived, they had already decided everything. In seven days, Daphne would be laid to rest alongside my husband in the Montclair family crypt, bearing the title of his lawful wife. When I stepped into the chapel, I found Daphne reclining on a cushioned chair with a damp cloth pressed to her forehead while my mother-in-law, Vivienne Prescott, personally spoon-fed her warm broth. Meanwhile, my son, Ansel Montclair, had been kneeling before the coffin for six hours straight, both legs so swollen that they were trembling. No one told him to get up. No one offered him a cushion to kneel on. Vivienne glanced up at me. "You're back. Daphne's being interred in the Montclair crypt as the lawful wife in seven days. See to the arrangements." In my previous life, I did not dare disobey. The entire capital praised Daphne for the depth of her devotion. Vivienne called her a woman of honor. The moment I so much as furrowed my brow, countless mouths stood ready to call me petty and small-hearted. Yet seven days later, Stellan came back from the dead. Only then did I learn that he had taken a death-feigning potion so that he could openly and rightfully marry Daphne. I was cast from wife to concubine and spent the rest of my life crushed under Daphne's thumb. My son was stripped of his status as the legitimate heir, barred from the family title, and left to scrape by among commoners for the rest of his days. This time, though, I was living it all over again. I crouched down and lifted Ansel from the cold stone floor. Then, I looked at Vivienne. "If her devotion runs that deep, let her be buried with him today."

After eight years together, I've proposed to my boyfriend 108 times. Each time, he found a different excuse to turn me down. On the 109th try, I give up a promotion and transfer opportunity. Finally, he said yes. I think he's moved by my sincerity. But instead, he brings his first love into our marital home and falls into our bed with her. "I only proposed to her to spite you. If you just say the word, I'll dump her at the altar and marry you instead!" Staring at the scene before me, I take the tight engagement ring off my finger and toss it down the drain. I decide to call off the wedding before he can. But after I walk away, the man who swore he'd marry someone else went crazy searching for me everywhere.

I was the person Henry Johnson, the head of the San Nello mafia, loved more than anyone else. He loved me with absolute devotion. During our three years of marriage, he spoiled me endlessly and treated me like a princess. Yet this same man, who claimed to love me so deeply, divorced me three times, each time for the sake of his childhood sweetheart. The first time, intimate photos of them at the airport went viral. That very night, he placed the divorce papers in front of me. "Selena," he said, "Melanie's father once saved my life. I can't allow her to be condemned as a homewrecker. Let's divorce for now. Once this storm passes, we'll remarry." With my heart in pieces, I signed the papers and prepared to leave. However, at the airport, Henry stopped me. He broke down in front of me and begged, "I've already taken care of the media. Melanie has gone abroad again. I've repaid everything I owed her family. Please don't leave. Let's get married again." His tearful pleas softened my resolve. That was the first time I forgave him. The second time, he came to me looking utterly worn out. "Melanie was implicated by her boyfriend and ended up in prison," he said. "I need to bail her out as her spouse. Once she's free, we'll remarry right away." I believed him. That time, he kept his promise. He returned and remarried me. The third time, he lowered his head and hesitated, unable to look me in the eye. "Melanie is about to give birth," he said. "An unwed pregnancy would destroy her modeling career. I have to help her. This will be the last time. Once the child is settled, we'll remarry. I promise this will never happen again." I looked at him for a long time. In the end, I answered softly, "Okay." However, on the day we were meant to register our marriage again, I never appeared. Any love I still had was worn away bit by bit. In the end, I left for good, taking with me not only a broken heart, but also the unborn heir he would never know.

There was only one week left until my marking ceremony with Alpha Mason Wright. And this time, he was asking to postpone it yet again, all because his puphood sweetheart, Eira Padmore, the she-wolf who once saved his life, had another episode. She was in tears, begging to go to Bhador to see the snow, just like every time before, claiming she wouldn't be able to breathe otherwise. The ceremony had already been pushed back three times. All the wolves of the north had been waiting for us to complete it. But I was done waiting, and so was the pup growing inside me. If Mason refused to mark me, then I'd walk away and build my own future. But what I couldn't understand was... Why was it that the moment I left, Mason went mad searching for me, and suddenly insisted on marking me after all?

Abigail, a struggling writer, time-travels to 19th century France, landing in the lavender fields of Provence. There she meets Vincent, a solitary artist with a mysterious past. Together, they explore the land and inspire each other's work, leading to a passionate, yet doomed, affair. As the hourglass drains, Abigail must choose between her modern life or her love for Vincent in the past

Branded by her parents’ betrayal, Lyra Fenris has spent her life in chains of shame, hated, starved, and treated like dirt. But on her nineteenth birthday, her cruel Alpha, the very man who’s made her life a living hell, feels the unthinkable: the mate bond. Alpha Larry Talbot wants nothing more than to hate her…but his wolf has other plans. Their bond is savage. Their past is poison. And their future? Explosive. Love wasn’t part of the curse. But now, it might be their only salvation.

On Children's Day, the most popular social media post is about me. The caption is: "Mr. Shane Norton spends his birthday with his son David Norton and his first love, Ruth Feynman. Has he finally decided to divorce Ayla Sanderson?" I quietly press the "like" button. When my phone rings, I'm in the midst of taking down the balloons I put up for our wedding anniversary. "Honey." My husband sounds anxious as he tries to explain himself. "David suddenly insisted that we go to a theme park, so I—" In the background, I hear David laughing. "Dad, Ruthie says that I can sleep with her tonight!" I look at the mess in the house. The balloons are drooping, and the cream on the cake is congealed. "You don't have to explain," I hear myself say. "I understand." It's just that this time, I don't want you or David any longer, Shane.

That moment when you are being stood up by your lover on your special day. When you are standing at the altar feigning smile at the one you ought not to marry..the one that fills the space of your beloved.. "Do you take .......to be your lawfully wedded wife" the priest asked. It was not meant to be her nevertheless for reputation, he obliged.. "Yes...I do" ### Clarissa is left with no other option than to fill the space of her run away cousin. Little did she know she was playing a game of fate and reality. Story turning, secrets unraveling, she finds out a truth, a truth that gets her to fall deeply in love with her story but at another end, the mistake of another causes her trouble.

My husband, Alex Carter, is a top AI engineer. He one day gets drugged by a new intern at his company, and one night of chaos follows. He calls me the next morning, his voice hoarse from a hangover and filled with unfamiliar panic. "Em, I messed up. But don't worry. I gave her enough money to disappear from this city." After ten years together, I believe it is just a momentary lapse in judgment. Six months later, Alex's company suffers the worst cyber attack in its history, with core data hanging by a thread. I rush back from a fragrance exhibition in Astral, only to witness a scene at the data center entrance that sends me into shock. Alex stands outside the tightly sealed door, his face showing a weariness and guilt I have never seen before. The doctor says that the intern, Brooke Anderson, is three months pregnant and has spent 72 hours with him in the high-radiation server room. Now, she shows signs of miscarriage. Later, Brooke gives birth to twins, a boy and a girl. The entire Carter family is ecstatic. I remove the wedding ring that has accompanied me for ten years, my fingertips turning ice cold. I dial the number saved with only one letter "S" and say, "Mr. Sullivan, I accept the collaboration you proposed last time." A low, soft laugh comes from the other end of the line. "Ms. Emma Shaw, that's a wise decision."

My ex-husband is getting married. and.... I’m the one hired to plan the wedding. My name is Arabella Paloma Garcia. Five years ago, I was arranged to marry an Italian heir with an angel’s face and the personality of something between a blizzard and a natural disaster: Rafael Vittorio Ricciardi. We spent one year of marriage arguing hard enough to make a lawyer retire early. Then his ex came back, and I left with a divorce bracelet on my finger… and a pair of babies in my belly. Now I live in San Francisco. I own a wedding planning company, I’m a single mom to two demon twins, and I’m very, very proud of the fact that the name Ricciardi doesn’t appear anywhere in my life. Until one email lands in my inbox: Ricciardi–Marino Wedding. Groom: Rafael Vittorio Ricciardi. Bride: Alessandra Marino… the woman who once became the reason I got kicked out of his life. I should’ve said no. But Alessandra is infuriating, and I want to prove I’m over Rafael. So I take the job. But he walks in with a cold stare that sends my stomach straight to the floor. No recognition. A helicopter crash two years ago wiped six years of his life. Including me. Including our marriage. Perfect. I’ll plan my ex-husband’s wedding, send him down the aisle, and go back to my life. The plan goes smoothly. Right up until the wedding day. The bride disappears. The guests are waiting. The media is already rolling. And Rafael closes the bridal suite door… drops a bomb that earns him my fist in his face: “You’re the one who going to walk down the aisle with me.”