Tragic Love Awakening Short Stories & Novels

After my mission failed, I linked myself to the Perfect Partner Program and became Gloria's perfect husband. When rumors about her and Damian blew up, I stepped in and shut them down. When Damian framed me and Gloria said nothing, I rushed to take the blame and apologize. Even after she got pregnant with Damian's child, I didn't fight. Didn't make a scene. I just signed the divorce papers and handed Damian the title of "husband." But she wasn't happy. She shoved me onto the bed, anger burning in her eyes. "Mason, I told you to behave. I didn't tell you to push me away. Are you blaming me now?" I went still, staring up at the woman above me. "Isn't this what you wanted?"

My mate, Alpha Alex, had a wolf cursed at birth by a witch—unable to catch the scent of any she-wolf, doomed never to find his true mate. He spent five long years searching for her, only to be met with nothing but disappointment. In the end, broken and exhausted, he gave up. That was when he claimed me. On the night of our bonding, he told me the truth. "Fiona," he said quietly, "I had no choice. If the pack knew their Alpha couldn't even find his true mate, I'd become a disgrace in their eyes. So I chose you. You are my selected mate—but I swear, no one will ever take your title. You are my Luna. Even if I one day find my true mate… that will never change." But then he added, his voice distant and heavy: "Even though I'm cursed… I must still try to find her. I need to search every corner of the pack." From that night onward, she-wolves began appearing at our den one after another—every day, without fail. Some were shy, some bold. Some came bearing gifts, others with longing in their eyes. But all of them came for one reason: to see if they were his mate. And I? I could only watch in silence—his Luna in name, but never truly in heart. Because I knew there was nothing I could do to change his behavior. I had lost count of how many times I cried and begged him to stop—but still, every night, he brought different young she-wolves into our den. I once thought he'd eventually grow tired of it, that he would stop one day. Until he brought home three young she-wolves from the werewolf club. He paid far more than other alphas for their first night. Why? Because a witch told him that only sharing a night with more than two virgin she-wolves from the same bloodline could awaken his wolf's dormant sense—and help him find his true mate. I let out a bitter smile because what he didn't know was— The true mate he had searched for all these years… was me. But I would never return to him again. And by the time he finally found out the truth— It was already too late.

I once thought I would spend my entire life in love with my husband, Vincenzo, the Don of the De Luca family. In the end, our whirlwind romance was no match for a childhood promise. On the day Vincenzo went through with a sham marriage to his childhood sweetheart, Chloe, to honor a blood oath, I destroyed the penthouse we had filled with memories and left his city for good. When Vincenzo used the family's entire intelligence network and still couldn't find me, the untouchable Don was driven mad. Later, he offered a worldwide bounty for any information on my whereabouts and even publicly begged me to come back. Too bad for him, I already wore another man's ring. Vincenzo, nothing waits for you forever. Especially a love you strangled with your own hands.

The royal family once helped the Foxkin of Moonveil. For generations, the Foxkin had sent their youngest daughters to the royal palace to repay that debt. Each prince had a Foxkin companion who looked after him and kept him safe. My elder brother, Alaric Ashbourne, had a Foxkin who fought fiercely by his side on the frontier for years. In the end, they fell in love and married. My Foxkin was named Evelina Wrenwood. I felt sorry for her. She had left her home and would never be able to return to her clan, so I never restricted her freedom. I always gave her the finest things first, never expecting anything in return. People said I spoiled her rotten, but I pretended not to hear them. Yet Evelina ignored all I did for her and kept urging me to put brotherly love first and entrust Alaric with greater authority. That day, I personally brought her a basket of summer peaches from the southern duchies. But when I stepped out of her room, I saw a swarm of tiny words floating in midair. [That's what you get for chasing a woman who doesn't want you. You end up with nothing!] [Why force Evelina to be yours? Her heart belongs to Prince Alaric. Doesn't he get it?] [She's doing everything she can to put Prince Alaric on the throne. Cassian, the crown prince, is just a fool!]

Samuel Pierce is the man every guy in Crown City wishes he could be. His career is on the steady rise, and he has Scarlett Bennett—a woman who loves him like he's her whole world—by his side. She's a spoiled heiress who never spares anyone a second glance, yet her love and devotion to him have stayed rock-solid for decades. When his career hits a wall, she drops a multimillion-dollar deal just to help him land a six-figure contract. When he collapses after pushing himself too hard, she stays by his bedside day and night, refusing to sleep as she cares for him. When he's trapped on a mountain by a mudslide, she ignores the rescue team's warnings and risks her life to climb up there and drag him out. Throughout their 40-year marriage, Scarlett insists on not having kids. Still, even without children, she and Samuel remain as in love as they have been from day one. Then all of that ends the year Scarlett dies.

Rhys Lockhart, a brash and unruly trust-fund heir, comes back home from abroad and discovers he's already been married off without his consent. His bride is Elara Waverly, the head of Waverly Corp, and a full eight years older than him. Rhys naturally wants no part of it. So, when he hears she's the disciplined, immaculate type with a serious thing about cleanliness, he makes a point of it. He shows up in ripped streetwear and a backward baseball cap, a row of silver studs lining his ear. His parents turn red with embarrassment and move to apologize, but Elara simply leans forward with quiet composure, her slender fingers gently steadying them. Her voice is cool and clear. "This arrangement already asks too much of Mr. Lockhart. If anyone should be apologizing, it's me." Rhys freezes, and he slowly lifts his head. Beneath the cool detachment in her gaze, her amber eyes are filled with warmth.

Seven years. My fated mate, Alpha Julian, and I only have one topic: Yes or No. "Yes" means he comes home. "No" means he goes to Chloe—his childhood friend. Ninety-eight times. Every time I needed him, he chose her. Tonight is our mating ceremony. One bite on my neck, and the bond seals forever. The banquet hall glows. Elders and elites raise glasses, congratulating me on finally taming the Supreme Alpha. But his phone keeps buzzing. I know it's Chloe. Her "broken wolf spirit" is "losing control" again. He tenses. Ready to bolt. I press my fingers against his hand. "It's our mating ceremony. Do you have to go?" He grips my hand, thumb rubbing my knuckles. "Chloe's wolf is severely broken. She can't survive without me. I'll be right back. Trust me." He buries his face in my neck, inhaling. "You are my fated mate. My one and only Luna." Then he pulls away and walks out the door. No hesitation. Just like every other time. But he doesn't know. The second he walks out, he's not just leaving the party. He's leaving my life. Forever.

"Ryder, are you seriously leaving Mona behind and moving abroad?" In the quiet café, Ryder Kane set down his spoon and look at his best friend, Harry Crain, who's staring at him in disbelief. "Mona and I are already divorced." "Divorced?" Harry looks stunned. Then his expression turns angry. "And she actually agreed to it? You've treated her so well these past three years! Even a rock would've warmed up to you by now. Does she seriously have no feelings for you at all?" Ryder give Harry a faint smile, though the truth is, he's not even sure Mona Brent realizes what she's agreed to. Two weeks ago, Ryder handed Mona the divorce papers. She signed them while taking a phone call, barely listening to him before rushing off. She hasn't mentioned them since. In another two weeks, the divorce will be finalized, and he'll finally be free. Just as he's about to answer Harry, a woman's gentle voice comes from behind them.

Every bonding ceremony with Alpha Alexander turned into a nightmare. The first time, my ceremonial wine was laced with wolfsbane. I convulsed and coughed up blood in front of the entire Crescent pack. I became a complete laughingstock. The second time, a hidden silver blade pierced right through my stomach. I collapsed on the altar and stayed in a coma for three weeks. The third time, someone pushed me off the top of the tower. After the fall, my inner wolf never woke up again. All these accidents were the doing of Alexander's adopted sister, Ruby. Her mind was supposed to be completely broken. Every time I confronted him in tears, he would pull me into his arms and wipe my tears. "Evie, my sweet girl," he would whisper softly, "Ruby lost her mind to a rare poison when she saved my life. She has the mind of a pup now. Please, do it for me. Just treat her like a child and let it go." This time, at our fourth ceremony, Ruby lured a rogue into our territory. The entire hall was engulfed in flames from the blast. I tackled Alexander to the ground and shielded him from the silver laced flames. My whole body was burned and mangled. While I lay unconscious in the hospital bed, Alexander stayed by my side day and night, begging the Moon Goddess to wake me up. But when I woke up, I overheard him giving orders to the pack healer outside my door. "Increase the dose of the suppressants. Use the cheapest herbs. Do not let her wounds heal too fast." The healer froze for a moment. "But she was severely injured saving you, Alpha." Alexander's tone was incredibly cold and unfamiliar. "Her pain is not even a fraction of what Ruby went through." "I taught Ruby all these tricks. The explosion was no exception. She learns fast." I gripped the bedsheets tightly. My fingertips turned entirely cold. It turned out all the pain I suffered over the years was orchestrated by the Alpha I loved the most. I swore to the Moon Goddess that I would never let him see my face again.

I was Damian Valenti’s legal wife. But to the rest of New York, Sofia Bellini was the woman he planned to marry—and I was the pregnant mistress who refused to let him go. Damian said it was only for show. Sofia’s husband had died saving his life, and he had promised to protect her. She needed the wedding and the title of Donna. I already had what mattered: his love, his fortune, and our real marriage. At least, that was what Damian believed. He was so certain I would understand that he spent our seventh anniversary helping Sofia choose her wedding dress. He never noticed that I was in the fitting room beside them, wearing the dress he had once promised to see me in. As Sofia admired herself in the mirror, Damian told her she looked beautiful. I lowered my eyes to the faint curve of my stomach and rested a hand over it. Then I made the one decision he never believed I was capable of making. He could give Sofia my wedding, my home, and my name. But he could no longer keep his wife and his heir.

On the day of our graduation trip, my boyfriend Roman, a mafia heir, and his childhood friend Clara left me stranded on the side of a deserted highway. Their off-road vehicle had been driving for over half an hour before they even noticed the back seat was empty. When Roman called, there was no panic in his voice, only a hint of irritation. "Blair, why didn't you get back in the car?" "Stop messing around. We're rushing to the canyon to catch the sunset. We don't have time to go back and get you." "Figure out a way to hitch a ride here yourself." Through the receiver, Clara's amused voice came through loud and clear. "She's not a three-year-old girl. She can't expect you to wait on her hand and foot." In the past, I would have assumed it was my fault, apologizing to him with teary eyes. Then I would have tried everything in the blowing sand, even running, just to catch up with his car. But this time, looking up at the blinding sun in the desert, I suddenly didn't want to chase after him anymore. I took out my phone and canceled all the luxury suite reservations along the canyon route. I bought a bus ticket to a small coastal town. It was the place they said was totally boring. The coastline stretched on forever, and the world was wide open. I was no longer following anyone.

The ninth time Raphael Bellandi postponed our wedding for his adopted sister, Cosima, I finally understood. I was the villainess in a mafia novel. The first time, Raphael's mother claimed she'd suddenly come down with the flu. Cosima was delicate and might catch it at the wedding. Canceled. The second time, Raphael's best friend claimed he'd been in a car accident and couldn't carry Cosima on his back during the bouquet toss. Canceled. The third time, the fourth time... A different person, a different excuse. The ninth time, the one making excuses for Raphael was my best friend, Sofia, of all people. She said a blizzard had grounded her flight, so the new designer bag she was bringing Cosima wouldn't arrive in time. Apparently, we had to postpone the wedding again. Cosima Bellandi is the heroine of this book. She's also Raphael's adopted sister, the woman he loves but can never have. Everyone wants them together. They've ruined my wedding again and again to make it happen. In the original plot, I ignore my family's objections, chase Raphael like a lovesick fool, and use my power as a mafia princess to force him to marry me at once. Then, on our wedding day, he leaves me at the church and flies to New York to give Cosima a seashell necklace he made himself. I pull my Browning on him, only to fall into his trap and get shot dead. The book calls that their "happily ever after." The grass over my grave grows ten feet tall, and no one ever visits. This time, he brushed it off as if it meant nothing. "We'll just pick another date." My stomach turned. I didn't beg or scream. I calmly tore up the wedding invitation he'd handed me, one strip at a time. "Raphael, the wedding's off. We're done." Raphael frowned. "Vera, throwing a tantrum won't get you anywhere. Where would you even go without me?" Instead of answering, I called a number I hadn't dialed in years. Someone picked up after one ring. "Dad, I'm ready to come home. "And while you're at it, pull every resource we've used to prop up the Bellandi family."

Kelly and I had been in a long-distance relationship for three years. After working overtime for a month to make time so I could see her, she could not be reached. I waited alone in that unfamiliar place for ten whole hours before I finally got a reply from her. My best friend, Hayden, called me and said gleefully, "Zachary, surprise! I've already explored Stranton for you. It's amazing. Kelly is a great tour guide!" He excitedly shared his experiences, as if he had not noticed the 30 missed calls I left on Kelly's phone. I listened quietly until he mentioned feeling cold. Kelly took the phone and said bluntly, "I'll take him back to the hotel first. Give us a minute." After she finished speaking, I asked, "Do you know how long I've been waiting?" Kelly paused, her tone turning cold. "He's your friend. Are you really going to make a fuss out of this?" The blatant rebuke completely extinguished my desire to reply. After hanging up, my ride back to Jazzville arrived. The driver glanced at me and could not help but say, "Young man, it's the middle of the night. This area is quite dangerous. What urgent matter kept you waiting until now?" Looking at my shoes, which had been soaked by the snow, I softly replied, "It was urgent at the time." Then, I smiled and continued, "But not anymore."

In conjunction with the Labor Day weekend, my fiancé, Jacob Fowler, and I, along with a few other friends, decide to go on a trip together. We start the trip with a mountain hike. Alas, on the very first day of our trip, I come down with acute gastroenteritis and have to take the cable car down the mountain. Before I leave the others, Jacob reminds me to take care of myself and adds, "Head down first, Daphne. I'll come to the hospital to keep you company once I've made sure that Charlene and the others will be fine without me." Riley White, my best friend, and Simon Hoffman, my childhood friend, both look at me with concern and tell me not to push myself too hard. But when I reach the cable car station, a staff member informs me that injured or ill passengers must be accompanied by a family member on the way down. I have no choice but to turn back and look for Jacob. However, when I return to the campsite, I find that the man who looked so worried before is now sporting an expression of pure relief. "I just sent Daphne off. You guys did great putting on an act with me," he says. Simon chuckles and shakes his head. "You don't need to thank us, Jacob. I know that you and Charlene have always had feelings for each other. You even created the wishing wall on this mountain just for her! "After all these years, it has even become a popular tourist destination. Now that Charlene finally got a chance to come back to the country, we must use this opportunity to make up for all your past regrets." Riley chimes in excitedly, "That's right! I know that Daphne has a weak stomach and can't take spicy food. That's why I secretly added some ghost peppers into our breakfast this morning. Now that her gastroenteritis has flared up, no one will get in the way of your trip down memory lane." My blood runs cold. I feel chilled to the bone as I stare at the wishing wall that is nearly half my height. "May God take pity on me and allow me to reunite with the one I love. I ask for nothing more in life." This is how I find out that everyone has been deliberately plotting to force me out of the trip—that the sole purpose of this trip is to let Jacob and Charlene, the star-crossed lovers, finally be together again.

On my thirtieth birthday, our car crashed on the way home from a charity gala. Damian Moretti stepped over me—his girlfriend of six years, lying there with a fractured ankle—and carried Sofia DeLuca away because the cut on her palm had made her panic. He knew I was hurt worse. He chose her anyway. It was punishment for asking whether the two of them were getting too close. That night, while I sat alone in the ER, Sofia posted a photo with her face pressed against his shoulder. [Thank you to the man who always catches me when I fall.] Damian expected me to call, cry, and demand that he come back. That was how our fights always ended: he hurt me until I panicked, then rewarded me with affection once I apologized. This time, I liked Sofia’s post. Then I accepted an eighteen-month transfer to Paris. My flight left in seven days—on our sixth anniversary. Damian mistook my silence for surrender. He thought he had finally taught me to stop questioning him. So on the night I once believed he would propose, he put Sofia in a wedding dress, held out the ring I had waited six years for, and gave me one last chance to behave. He expected me to beg. Instead, I left my key on the table and headed for the airport. By the time Damian realized I wasn’t testing him, my plane had already taken off.

I was a violin prodigy. But to pay my mother’s debts, I was forced to give up everything. That’s when I met the man who would own me: Dante Moretti. He was the king of New York's underworld. The Don of the Moretti family. With a single phone call, fortunes were made. With a single glance, blood was spilled. The world didn't just bend to his will—it broke. And on that day… what he wanted was me. He gave me a five-year contract. A penthouse in a skyscraper overlooking all of New York. More jewels and gowns than I could count. Every night he needed me, I’d put on whatever lacy thing he picked out. We’d have sex. Five years. 999 times. There were moments—his sweat dripping on my forehead, his soft breaths inside me, the way he’d look at me—when I let myself dream he loved me. Then the video dropped. Him. On the street. Kissing another woman. I knew the truth. He was my keeper, not my lover. Everyone laughed. They couldn't wait to see me lose my mind, begging him to keep me. Instead, I turned my back on him. And married another man.

Over the weekend, my wife, Madeline Puth, invited her coworker, Kenneth Wilson, over for dinner. When the three of us reached the front door, Kenneth casually pressed his finger to the fingerprint lock. The door clicked open. I froze and stared at him. Madeline glanced at me and said as if it were the most natural thing in the world, "He's been here a few times before. He registered his fingerprint for convenience." Kenneth smiled at me. I returned his smile without a word. Then I walked inside, grabbed my bag, and headed straight for the door. Madeline hurried after me. "Where are you going?" I pulled the door open. "I'm clearly not the man of this house anymore, so of course I'm leaving."

On my wedding day, my boyfriend, Theodore Gunther, suddenly stops the wedding ceremony—all because Gwen Lithgow has updated her social media to say she's back. Theodore throws away the wedding ring he designed. He leaves me at the altar without another look back. I'm dumbfounded as I stand there in my wedding dress. My brother, Alvin Chilton, who's supporting me, lets go. "You've always been strong, Joycelyn. I know you can handle this alone. Gwen needs me more now." With that, he also leaves. He and Theodore have both left me for the same woman. They abandon me alone. That night, after dealing with the fallout of the failed wedding, Gwen sends me a photo. In it, Theodore and Alvin are standing by her bedside. She wears the necklace Theodore made himself and the wedding dress Alvin designed. Those were supposed to be mine. The image makes me lose hope in them. Tears stream down my face as I make a call. "Mom, Dad, I've changed my mind. I want to go home."

Nathan Ritter is a stickler for process-driven management. For the past three years we've been married, everything I do must go through an official approval process, as if I were an employee at his company. If I want him to come home for dinner, I have to submit a request three days in advance. If I need money for living expenses, I have to submit a justification five days in advance. Only when I visit his office do I see his young secretary, Miranda Hooper, folding my application reports into paper airplanes. "Mr. Ritter, this is the 99th request from your wife asking you to spend time with her. Why haven't you approved it yet?" Nathan's expression is as cold and detached as his eyes. He says, "I'm too busy lately. Just set it aside for now." Miranda giggles, playfully pinching his pectoral muscles. She asks, "What about me, then? I want your company too. Do I have to go through the 'process' as well?" Nathan pinches her cheek with doting affection. "Really, when have you ever needed to go through a process? Don't you know that I've already offended a whole bunch of business partners just to keep you company? So, how are you going to make it up to me?" I stand frozen in place, biting my lower lip until it bleeds. So, this "approval process" is meant only for me after all. I look down at my swollen, pregnant belly, and realize that there's nothing that I can do other than to swallow this bitter pill of this wretched marriage. Then, in the middle of the night, my water breaks, soaking the sheets and the floor. I'm going into labor. In a panic, I call Nathan, begging him to take me to the hospital. However, I hear him flipping through his calendar, his tone as cold and bureaucratic as ever. "It's not your due date yet. I'm not approving any time off for this. Submit a formal request now, and when the day actually arrives, I'll set aside exactly 60 minutes to be with you." The pain in my belly feels like it's crushing me to pieces. Hot tears stream from the corners of my eyes as I struggle to hold the pain in. I'm thoroughly exhausted, and my heart has gone completely cold. This marriage, reduced to nothing more than a series of bureaucratic procedures, is finally coming to an end.

This year marked the sixth Unclaimed Moon Damian and I had shared together. As the future Alpha of Moonridge Pack, Damian always believed this tradition would make our bond stronger. Every year, for one month after our anniversary, we suppressed our mate bond through an old pack ritual, stayed out of each other's lives, and gave each other complete freedom. If either of us found someone better, we were supposed to wish them happiness. If not, he would reclaim me when the month ended. Champagne sprayed through the hall as wolves laughed and cheered around the betting table. "Here's to our Alpha being unclaimed again. Another year of freedom." "The betting is open. Put your chips on the left if you think he'll reclaim her. Put them on the right if you think this is finally over." Through the haze of cigar smoke, I sat alone on a leather sofa, watching everything unfold as if none of it had anything to do with me. Damian slipped an arm around Vivian's waist. As he passed me, he lowered his voice and said, "Don't overthink it. You'll always be my only Luna." "When Unclaimed Moon ends, I'll come back to you." I rested a cold hand against the slight curve of my stomach, my expression unchanged. Damian, this year, I placed my bet on the end. I would disappear from your world completely. The claim you were always so sure I would never reject would be the one thing I walked away from tonight.