Novels

Ethan, a renowned actor, married me out of spite. His long-time girlfriend, Olivia, had stormed off to Europe after a fight, and he'd impulsively walked down the aisle with me. Three years into our marriage, their drama continued to unfold. On-screen hugs and kisses, off-screen flirtatious interviews – the internet was abuzz with pity for me, the "pathetic stand-in." I never reacted, always plastering on a smile and diligently managing his PR. Then, I unexpectedly got pregnant. I quietly terminated the pregnancy without telling Ethan. When he found out, he was furious, his voice laced with a strange mix of

I figured, if I couldn't have Ethan's heart, at least I could have him. Turns out, having him only made me feel like I was the one being played. Until he tossed me his Porsche keys and said, "Didn't you say you wanted to date all the zodiac signs and Myers-Briggs types, drive a hot car, and have a younger guy riding shotgun?" … Mortified. 1 I’d had a couple too many at the celebratory dinner. My usually impeccable composure slipped, and I blurted out to Ethan, “Why don’t you come with me?” My friends erupted in laughter. Ethan, however, remained reclined in his chair, one

My brother, Mark, always hated me. He once told me he wished I were dead. So, as if granting his wish, I got stomach cancer. He regretted it. But I still died. Smiling, right in front of him. 1 Mark's call came just as I got home. The diagnosis in my bag was crumpled into a ball. He never called me first. "Dad's birthday was the day before yesterday," his voice was cold, like ice. Always like ice. "Why didn't you come…?" "Because I didn't want to," I cut him off. "You went, didn't you?" "Lisa was here from out of state earlier this month." Lisa, our cousin, had lived

It was late at night, and the baby in 404 wouldn't stop crying. Our building's group chat was blowing up. Then, a message from the owner of 404 popped up: "I'll strangle him right away. Promise it won't bother you guys anymore." 1. Silence. Dead silence. And then, just as suddenly, the crying stopped. A few minutes later, hesitant messages trickled in. 302: "Dude, seriously? Don't joke about stuff like that, it's creepy AF." 504: "Yeah, just soothe the baby, no need to get all worked up." 601, concerned: "@404, you okay, neighbor? Need any help?" 402, sounding panicked: "It really did just go quiet. I can't hear

I'd been with Ethan for seven years. Seven years, and he was bored. Just like that, he moved on to someone younger, someone shinier. This time, I didn't fight. I tossed the ring, shredded the brand new wedding dress I'd bought, and boarded a red-eye to LA. His friends were placing bets on how long it would take me to crawl back. Ethan, cold as ice, smirked, "Three days, tops. She'll be back, begging." Three days turned into a week, and still nothing. Ethan, finally rattled, called me himself. "Chloe, haven't you had enough drama? Come home..." A low chuckle answered

The talk show host’s voice echoed in my quiet apartment. It was Jason’s post-Oscar interview, and the ratings were through the roof. The host announced a surprise segment: Jason had to call the person he regretted losing most. Then my phone rang. “Why did you leave, Sarah? Was it because I was broke?” His voice, even through the phone, sounded strained, thick with unspoken things. I glanced down at my skeletal arm, a faint smile playing on my lips. "Jason," I asked, my voice barely a whisper, "Could you lend me ten thousand dollars?" The line went dead. On the screen, Jason

It was year four of my marriage to Sean. The year his first love, Sarah, came back to the States, freshly divorced. It was also the year I found out I had cancer. Terminal. With less than six months left to live, I played the role of the perfect wife, right up until the end. And Sean, after reading the diary I left behind, completely fell apart. 1. Holding the flimsy diagnosis, I stood outside the hospital, wanting to call Sean. I hovered over his contact, clicking in and out. Then his call popped up. His voice was as low and cool

My girlfriend posted something cryptic on her Finsta: "Does a princess always have to marry a prince? Maybe a knight is her true destiny." Ugh. Look, I don't have a problem with her princess fantasy, but which princess sneaks around texting her knight behind the prince's back? She was on a "business trip" to Chicago and sent me a text, then instantly deleted it. I waited a few minutes before asking what it said, playing it cool. She claimed she’d hit the wrong button. Yeah, right. I saw it. "I don't know if coming here with him was the right thing

Five years ago, my fiancé, David, died in the line of duty. They never recovered his body. Then, this past August, at exactly 8:17 pm, Detective Reynolds called. He said they’d found David. Alive. And getting married. 1. The drive to that coastal town felt like an eternity. Reynolds and his partner tried to prepare me, but I clung to hope. He’d chased me for two years, spoiled me for five, proposed twice. How could he forget me? I rubbed the simple silver band on my finger. He’d proposed! How could he marry someone else? The flight was followed by a five-hour bus