Contos e Romances sobre Tragic Love com Best Friend

My sister Isolde and I used to be human. The twin vampire princes, Caelum and Dorian, turned us and married us. The entire vampire world celebrated. Two human sisters, personally turned by the Crown Princes? It was the highest honor a mortal could receive. We believed we were loved. We were fools. Five months into my pregnancy, I was attacked by a group of exiled vampires in the forest beyond our territory. I called Caelum nine times. He didn’t pick up. The exiles circled me, cutting into my arms and legs with blades that burned. Pain tore through my body. I called a tenth time. This time, Caelum’s cold voice came through: “Haven’t you had enough? Vivienne is being tracked by hunters. Stop bothering me.” Vivienne was the human girl that both princes truly loved. The one who had refused to be turned. With nothing to stop them now, the exiles closed in. Their leader drove a blade into my stomach. I watched the light leave my body from the inside out, and felt my unborn child die. When I was close to death, my sister Isolde found me and fought the exiles off. But there were too many. Isolde was badly wounded. She called her husband Dorian for help. All she got was: “Looking for Vivienne. Don’t bother me.” Isolde carried me and ran. A storm hit and we were caught in the open at dawn—deadly for wounded vampires. The border patrol found us just in time. We barely survived. When I woke up in the infirmary, my first thought was simple: Sever the bond.

Once the graduation ceremony is over, I take a five-hour train ride to meet my boyfriend, Blake Jones. While I wait for him at the station, I come across a popular post on Reddit. "Am I Overreacting? My Childhood Friend Ditches Me for His Girlfriend, and I'm Pissed. "His girlfriend is my best friend, and the three of us have always been close since we were kids. He's always been really sweet to both of us. "Two days ago, I had a fever, and he rushed me to the hospital in the middle of the night. He even took a day off to keep me company. When my supervisor rejected my thesis, he stayed up all night to help me revise it… "I never used to mind his relationship. But now, whenever I hear him talking to my best friend on the phone, I can't help feeling awful." That catches me off guard. I remember one night when I called Blake, but his phone was switched off. He didn't get back to me until the next afternoon. He said something had come up, but he never mentioned who he'd been with. The comments on the post are all urging the poster to call her childhood friend back and see who he'll choose between her and his girlfriend. I'm just about to type a reply when a notification from Blake comes through. "Babe, something came up. I can't pick you up today. Can you take a cab and come over?" My breath catches. I click on the poster's profile and realize that her location tag is the same city I'm in.

I had stayed up all night to get the merchandise. It was then callously discarded by my boyfriend. On that stormy day, I knelt beside a dumpster and searched through bags of trash. Yarden Scott stopped in his tracks. “What are you looking for?” “My merch.” I did not look up. “I reminded you three times. It was in the left drawer of the sideboard.” His shirt was soaked from the rain. He subconsciously said, “Yvonne’s car broke down. I went to pick her up. I forgot.” He forgot. Last week, he threw away the commemorative ticket stubs I had stayed up all night organizing because he thought they were scraps of paper. The month before, he threw away the brooch my grandmother left me because he thought it was an old button. Every single time, he brushed it off with the same excuse. I gave a mocking smile. “You always remember everything when it comes to Yvonne, don’t you?” Yarden carefully wiped the hair tie Yvonne Jordan had left behind and answered as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “She’s your best friend. That means I have to treat her very well. “If I keep her happy, our relationship will last. Isn’t it all for your sake?” I watched his practiced movements and felt completely drained. I could not say another word. I had reminded him countless times before not to touch the drawers in my study. He ignored me and threw away my collection of rare stamps. I told him again and again that I was allergic to mangoes. At a group dinner, he still ordered a mango shake for me. But when Yvonne casually mentioned that she had trouble sleeping, he started sending her music to help her sleep every single day. If Yvonne wanted to eat at her favorite restaurant, he would pull every string he could to get a reservation. To him, everything about me was a burden. Everything about Yvonne was worth his time. If that were the case, then I should not bother him any longer.

I've been married to Joel Hoover for three years. But whenever we go out with my best friend, Cynthia Marsh, people assume they're the couple. At the mall, sales associates hand them the gifts meant for couples. At restaurants, servers ask if they want to take part in the couples' promotion. When we travel, strangers compliment them on what a great couple they make, then hand me a phone to take their picture. At first, it makes me uncomfortable, but Joel never corrects anyone. Cynthia always laughs it off. "Maybe we just happen to look like a couple. Don't read into it." She says it so casually that every time, I tell myself not to make a big deal out of it. Then Joel tells me he's finally taking me to meet his family at a holiday dinner. I spend three whole months getting ready. But the moment we walk in, his mother grabs Cynthia's hand, beaming. "Just look at these two. Don't they make a perfect couple?" The relatives immediately start teasing them too. "You two must kiss a lot. You're even starting to look alike!" The whole room erupts in laughter. I stand there, watching Joel. He doesn't correct anyone. He just reaches over and tucks a loose strand of Cynthia's hair behind her ear. That's when it finally hits me. Joel isn't staying quiet because he can't be bothered to explain. He just doesn't want me to be his wife.

When Jeremy Gosling proposed to me for the 9th time, I turned him down. He froze, a look of bewilderment on his face. "Why? We've been dating for seven years. What did I do wrong?" I smiled. "Your phone will tell you the reason in a moment." A second later, Jeremy's phone rang. It was my best friend, Sonia Sanderson. "Hey, master photographer, you promised to take pictures for me at the beach today. Where are you?" Sonia would always call Jeremy when he proposed to me. She had done so the last eight times. She would either ask him to take pictures for her, or edit pictures for her, or pick out new clothes for her trips. And every single time, Jeremy would leave me behind and go to her. Jeremy used to dislike her because she was the kind of woman he despised the most—the kind who would take half an hour to take pictures of food when eating out or pack two giant suitcases of new clothes for a trip. But I urged Jeremy to be more considerate of her because she was my best friend, and because her ex-husband had cheated on her and she had caught them red-handed... However, the way he became more considerate of her was by abandoning me again and again. Jeremy fell silent for a few seconds, then slowly spoke. "Alright, I'll come pick you up right now." He put the ring away, looked at me, and made another promise to me. "I'll finish the photoshoot quickly. When I get back, I'll personally put this ring on your finger." He left in a hurry. But Jeremy, I will neither believe you nor wait for you ever again.

My best friend and I were in relationships with the brothers from the Wilson Family, and we both got pregnant at the same time. She flaunted her relationship publicly, making everyone in Junopia know that Rick had left the monastery for her. On the other hand, I kept silent about my relationship with the heir of the Wilson Family. Thus, everyone mistakenly thought I was single. That was until my best friend saw my pregnancy report. In a fit of rage, she rallied a group of friends, stormed into my dorm, and vandalized my room with food waste. "I thought you were my best friend, and here you are, trying to steal my man," she accused. Not only did she live-stream this accusation, trying to paint me as the other woman, but she also spiked my chicken soup, hoping to get rid of my unborn child. In defiance, I poured the contaminated soup over her head. "Just so you know, Rick isn't the only Wilson brother," I retorted. Later, Rayden, the man who controlled Junopia, wrapped his arm around me and declared icily, "I've heard troubling rumors about my wife being called a mistress. We need to talk."

I worked late one night, and by the time I stepped outside, rain was coming down in sheets. While I waited for my ride, I texted my boyfriend, Landon Jarrett, to complain. [Seriously, it's pouring out here, and I didn't even bring an umbrella.] More than ten minutes passed before Landon replied. [Is that supposed to be a hint? What do you want me to do, catch a train over there just to bring you an umbrella?] [We're doing long distance. Why are you being so dramatic about it?] I froze. At the same time, my rideshare was canceled. Rain splashed up onto my pants, leaving the fabric wet and clammy against my legs. While I stood there distracted, my best friend, Zoe Langford, posted something on social media. It disappeared before I had time to look closely. When I refreshed the page, the nine-photo post had been cropped and rearranged. All that remained was a shot of a man cooking in the kitchen, his back to the camera. [Thanks to a certain someone, my brand-new heels didn't get a single drop of rain on them.] My hands shook as I zoomed in. I would have recognized him anywhere. It was Landon. The recipe notebook in his hand was the one I had made for him myself, filled with recipes adjusted to suit his tastes. By the time I got back to my apartment, I was drenched from head to toe. Then Landon messaged me as if nothing had happened. [Why aren't you answering? Are you home yet?]

My best friend, Adeline Miller, and I marry into the Caldwell family together. Coincidentally, we become pregnant at the same time. I'm married to Rowan Caldwell, the older brother who's a famous psychiatrist. As for Adeline, she's married to Elliot Caldwell, the younger brother who's an extremely skilled doctor. Rowan gives me a ride to the hospital, hoping to accompany me to my prenatal check-up due to the discomfort I've been feeling throughout my pregnancy. But on the way there, he abandons me by the road and leaves me there because of a phone call from his first love, Veronica Whitmore. As I sob, I beg him, "Please, Rowan, I'm begging you! It's raining heavily right now! Can you please drive me to the hospital first?" Rowan shakes my hand off impatiently. "Veronica has slit her wrist! This means she might die! Can you be more understanding toward her situation, Emilia? I'm going to tend to her injury right now! You can go to the hospital on your own!" It's raining cats and dogs out in the world. Yet, Rowan doesn't hesitate to ditch me on the highway. Left without a choice, I can only call Adeline and ask her to drive over to pick me up. Unexpectedly, on the way to the hospital, we see a truck barreling toward us. While I'm unconscious, I hear Adeline crying while calling Elliot on the phone, only to get reprimanded by him. "Stop messing around, Adeline! Must you come up with all sorts of lies whenever I'm spending time with Veronica?" It's thanks to a passerby's help that an ambulance is called to the crash site. That's how we get to survive afterward. Alas, we both end up losing our babies. Upon regaining our consciousness, we just smile bitterly at each other. "Are you getting a divorce?" "Yeah."

My once best friend posted a photo on her social media account on the tenth anniversary of my marriage. In the photo, her daughter and my son were wrapped in my husband's and her arms. The caption said, 'The perfect pair.' I commented, 'Perfect indeed.' Soon, the post was deleted. The next day, my husband rushed home and asked me, "Sophie is finally recovering. Why are you provoking her?" My son even pushed me and accused me, "It's all your fault for making Tammy cry." I took out the divorce papers and threw them in their faces. "Well, it's my fault, so I quit your perfect family of four."

Seconds before the crash, my best friend, Nora Sinclair, threw herself over me to protect me. When she woke up, she'd lost her memory and mistook my fiancé, Julian Pierce, for her boyfriend. There were five of us in our friend group, and for the sake of her recovery, we decided it would be best to play along with the mistake. The first month, the trip Julian and I had planned before our wedding became hers instead. Nora held his hand and kissed him while everyone cheered them on, leaving me trailing behind with all four of their bags. The second month, Nora moved into the home Julian and I had bought for after the wedding. My name was taken off the deed and replaced with hers. My sister, Yvette Lane, tried to reassure me. "Nora lost her memory saving your life. We're only playing along with this to help her recover." I believed her. I forced myself to smile and played my part through one ridiculous charade after another. Then came the ninth month. I had just finished having my bridal makeup done and hurried to the wedding venue, only to find Nora already wearing my wedding dress, smiling as she stood beside Julian and greeted the guests with her arm linked through his. Yvette patted me on the shoulder. "Nora accidentally found your wedding dress last night. We couldn't bring ourselves to tell her the truth, so just let her have the wedding this time." One of Julian's friends, Yale Lawson, grinned and chimed in, "Exactly. You've already given in eight times. What's one more?" A bitter ache spread through my chest, and suddenly the wedding ring on my finger felt painfully tight. Then I looked up and saw Nora wearing my spare wedding band. It fit her perfectly. Only then did I notice that the wedding dress had always been one size too small on me, yet it fit her perfectly too. Every guest there knew exactly what was going on, but they still laughed and cheered, calling her Mrs. Pierce. That was when I finally understood. From the very beginning, I was the only one who hadn't wanted this "mistake" to become real. With a bitter smile, I slipped off the ring that had been cutting into my finger. Fine. If this was what they wanted, they could have their ninth farce. I was done after this.

My boyfriend was obsessed with efficiency and despised anything he considered a waste of time. When it came to our wedding rehearsal, he dismissed it as unnecessary and canceled it. When we went to City Hall to get our marriage license and saw a line, he turned around and left without a second thought. On our anniversary, I made reservations at an exclusive restaurant with private dining rooms, where we wouldn't have to wait in line. I even arrived early at his office to pick him up, hoping to avoid any delays that might give him an excuse to cancel our date. But as I walked in, I overheard his employees whispering among themselves. "Mr. Meyer has been waiting in line for the staff elevator every day just so he can ride down with Lucy." Sure enough, outside the elevator bank, Levi Meyer stood at the end of a line. It was something I'd never seen him do before. As they waited, he chatted leisurely about work with my best friend, Lucy Carr. When they finally reached the ground floor, I hurried over to meet them, only to be greeted by the irritation on Levi's face. "Emilie, we haven't even gotten our marriage license or had our wedding yet, and you're already rushing around acting like my wife?" I could only shake my head. To avoid office gossip and any appearance of a conflict of interest, Levi had strictly forbidden me from visiting his office. Yet here I was, having rushed all the way over in stilettos because I was afraid that he'd complain about delays and cancel our date yet again. Just then, Lucy suddenly looked alarmed. "Oh, no! I left my laptop upstairs. I have to go back for it. Don't wait for me." Levi stopped her, his tone softening at once. "I'll get it for you. You take Emilie and head out." He turned around and walked straight back to the end of the line, ready to wait for the elevator all over again. In one second, I realized that this relationship, one that wasn't even worth his time, was finally over.

I had cancer. And Carl—my boyfriend of seven years—ditched me at the hospital to play fake boyfriend for his so-called best friend, just so she could dodge her parents' marriage pressure. When the results came in, I broke down. Clutching the report, I sobbed as I called him. "Carl, I... I..." My voice cracked. I didn't even know how to say it. I thought he'd comfort me. Instead, his voice came sharp through the phone. "Can you not? Mia's just a friend. What's so wrong about me helping her?—do you have to be so dramatic? I already promised to marry you this month. What more do you want?"

Damian Pierce said we should be a minimalist couple. There was no need for gifts, holidays, and grand gestures. “True love doesn’t need material proof.” My best friend, Sienna Moore, even backed him up. “Exactly. Your husband really gets it. Unlike my ex, who did nothing but shower me with designer bags.” I nodded. We lived that minimalist life for four years. In all that time, I never received a single bouquet of flowers, and not once did he surprise me. On my birthday, he posted a photo of us on his social media with the caption: [Minimalist living. The best gift is simply being together.] The post got over 200 likes. I left a little heart in the comments. Then I came across Sienna’s private account. She had limited-edition handbags, custom-made jewelry, and a room filled with roses. [Someone once said true love doesn’t need material proof, but he insists on proving it to me.] The location was at the presidential suite of a five-star hotel. The date was my birthday. I scrolled through her posts from the past four years. Every single one had been posted on a day that was supposed to belong to Damian and me. Every gift she received had Damian’s taste written all over it. I exited her feed and removed the heart from his post. Just as casually, I ended our relationship.

My best friend Bianca Russo was born to work a room, and my engagement to Matteo Rinaldi was almost entirely her doing. Before we made things official, Matteo personally picked me up for opening night at the opera. He opened the car door for me. "I hear you've been looking forward to tonight." "Bianca bought the tickets," I told him honestly. "I'm just keeping her company." Bianca pinched me from behind and nudged me into the passenger seat with a laugh. "What she means is, she's hoping you'll drive her home after the show." Even after Matteo and I got engaged, he would say openly at family dinners that I wasn't as sharp as Bianca. "Looks like once we're married, I'll have to keep a room for Bianca at the estate." Family members and their business partners chuckled, but my heart sank with every laugh. Bianca was also the one who'd suggested the venue for our first charity ball as an engaged couple. By Rinaldi family tradition, the opening dance belonged to the Don and his fiancée. I'd practiced day and night for two weeks, until the backs of my heels were rubbed raw and crusted with blood. But when the band struck up the opening number, Matteo held out his hand to Bianca. "We have important guests tonight. The opening dance has to go off without a hitch." He looked at me as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "Bianca knows these people better than you do, and she knows how to handle an event like this. Watch from the sidelines for now. You can have the second dance." Bianca didn't take Matteo's hand right away. She sounded torn. "Why don't you let Elena do it? She's your fiancée." That was what she said, but her eyes never left Matteo's outstretched hand. "Do I really have to ask you twice, Ms. Russo?" Matteo raised an eyebrow. The chandelier light cast a shadow beneath his sharply defined brow. The moment they stepped onto the dance floor side by side, the conversation around the room died away. The spotlight fell on the two of them, and their slightly

My boyfriend, Yves Warren, had a memory disorder. No matter what I told him, he could only hold on to it for half an hour. Once those thirty minutes were up, everything was wiped clean. Then, at a party, he drew a challenge that required him to tell everyone everything he knew about my best friend. Worried he'd be embarrassed, I quickly tried to bail him out with a laugh. "Let him draw another one. He won't remem..." Before I could finish, Yves spoke. "Xenia Quade. Twenty-three years old. Five foot five. Weighs ninety-four and a half pounds. "Allergic to mangoes. Laughs a lot. Loves the water. Doesn't like sleeping alone at night..." The words rolled off his tongue as if he'd rehearsed them in his head a thousand times. I froze, swallowing the rest of my sentence. One of our friends laughed and teased him. "Look at you. You've gotten way better." "What about your girlfriend? You must know her inside and out by now, right?" My heart gave a jolt. Slowly, I looked up. Yves stared at me, his brow furrowing deeper and deeper. "Sarah Cole." That was all he managed. I waited, still hoping he would say something else, but he only gave me an apologetic look and nodded. "Sorry. I don't remember." Everyone else was busy praising how much he'd improved. I was the only one who felt exhaustion seep into every part of me. Yves and I had known each other for twenty-three years. We'd been together for seven, and our wedding was next week. Yet he couldn't even get my name right. This time, I wasn't going to correct him.

When my best friend’s husband beat her, my boyfriend and I drove over a thousand miles through the night to get her out. We worked perfectly together. I threw the punches. He blocked the door. My best friend froze for a second, then jumped right into the fight with us. On the drive home, the three of us took one look at the bruises and scratches covering our faces and burst out laughing. But as she laughed, tears began streaming down her cheeks. “You two better not break up. If you do, who am I supposed to choose?” Ryan rolled his eyes from behind the wheel. “We’re doing just fine, thanks. We’re not breaking up. You should worry about yourself.” From that day on, Maya lived with me. I looked after her, helped her get back on her feet, and encouraged her to start a new life. Whenever Ryan saw me fussing over her, he’d jab a finger against my forehead. “Sophie, do you even remember that I’m your boyfriend?” Then I returned from a three-month business trip and found a pink beaded charm hanging in Ryan’s car. No matter how many times I asked, he refused to tell me who had made it for him. My expression hardened. “We’re done.” Then I turned to my best friend. “Come on. You’re leaving with me.” But her face went pale. Instead of coming to me, she walked toward Ryan.

I've had a terrible sense of direction since I was a child. I can walk past an intersection and forget it the second it's behind me. My boyfriend, Lucas Wentworth, and my best friend, Brielle Fontaine, were always finding new ways to "train" me out of it. We went camping together. When I woke the next morning, both of them were gone. I panicked until I found a note. [Nora, we're doing this for your own good. You're an adult now. You can't expect everyone to accommodate you forever.] Underneath it was another line in Brielle's handwriting. [Sweetie, I took your phone too so you can't call for help. You can do it!] I spent an entire day and night trying to get out of the mountains. My shoes tore open. My hands went numb from the cold. Mud and weeds covered me from head to toe. I had to keep stopping strangers and asking for directions before I finally found my way back to the lodge. Through the restaurant window, I saw them sitting over a steaming pot of fondue. Lucas reached across the table and casually wiped sauce from the corner of Brielle's mouth. I stood there watching them, and something inside me went cold. I was never walking Lucas's road again.

Dominic Fletcher and Sabine Mercer were high-society rivals known throughout the entire city for their bitter feuds. Yet by a twist of fate, the former was my childhood sweetheart and fiancé, while the latter was my best friend. Every time they crossed paths, teeth flared and claws came out. Now that I was pregnant, the two were locked in a relentless shouting match over who the baby would later address first. Hoping to ease the tension, I organized a road trip for the holiday weekend. Never did I imagine we would run into a violent landslide along the way. At the threshold of life and death, staring down at me as I lay pooled in my own blood, Dominic turned to scoop Sabine, who was suffering nothing more than a scraped elbow, into his arms. Just then, a massive boulder was about to crush down on me. He suddenly bolted back, wrapping his arms around me in a desperate, suffocating embrace. “The wedding we miss... I'll make it up to you in the next life.” I opened my eyes again to find myself alive again. I could hear the frantic bickering echoing clearly from outside the door. “You were willing to die alongside Elaine. Why didn’t you save her first? “Her baby’s gone! How on earth am I supposed to explain…” Dominic’s voice cut through, a restrained, low growl. “I couldn’t just stand there and watch the woman I love die, could I? “You know full well how indebted I feel...” I froze on the bed, half my body turning numb. Years ago, my father was hit by a truck and knocked off a cliff in an attempt to save Dominic’s life. I had always interpreted the look in Dominic’s eyes as affection, never realizing it was nothing more than guilt. Turned out I had been the villain breaking up the tragic lovers all along. It was time to step aside.

My husband, Mitch Cooley, has been with me through my fifth year of battling depression. While searching for recipes online, a notification for a late-night livestream for anonymous confessions pops up on my phone screen. "What's the biggest lie your husband has ever told you?" I tap on the notification out of curiosity as my eyes are drawn to the profile picture showing two hands tightly clasped together. The interviewee replies, "I'm still single, but if it's about my stupid best friend, then she'd been lied to by her husband three times. "The first time, her ex-boyfriend died in a car crash while cheating on her, and her now-husband hid the truth on purpose so that she thought the main reason her ex died was that she wanted to break up with him. "Her husband knew all along that her ex-boyfriend had been cheating on her with me, but he watched her try to slit her wrists in remorse multiple times without telling her the truth. "As for the third time, I just mentioned to her husband that he could only ever have a baby with me, and he immediately got himself a certificate proving that he was sexually frigid and refused to sleep with her. "But the most ridiculous thing is that my best friend still stupidly went to get an IVF done while I was rolling in the sheets with her husband every night." I feel alarm bells go off in my head. Mitch had also suddenly experienced sexual frigidity recently. The hospital he went to for treatment was one recommended by my best friend, Lexie Moyer. My hands tremble as I click on the interviewee's profile picture. I then realize that the red mole on the ring finger is the exact same one on Mitch's finger. The interviewee's tone suddenly turns low and restrained. "Even when her husband told her today that he would be working overtime at the company, when he was actually keeping me and our son company, she still made a whole table of dishes waiting for him to come home." I freeze on the spot the moment the interviewee's voice changer malfunctions for a bit. I know that voice too well. It is Lexie's.

I did not really go crazy when I found out my fiance was cheating on me. There was one simple reason. Solomon Zimmer had a strange condition—every time he lied, his body would break out in a rash. He had never been able to lie to me. So, when I confronted him, Solomon remained perfectly calm. "You're the one I love the most, Yvonne. I'd never cheat on you." There was no breakout. Unfortunately, I did not buy his story at all. Whenever he said he was doing overtime, I would wait outside his office. Whenever he went on a business trip, I would book a flight and follow him wherever he went. In the end, I installed surveillance cams in his car and GPS on his phone. When he found out what I had done, disappointment filled his eyes. "It's been six months. You went from unhinged to crazy. So, tell me, did you find out who the woman was?" He pulled my fingers away and tore his ring off. "If you have so little trust in me, perhaps we should delay the wedding indefinitely." That shattered me into a million pieces, and my depression attacked me at the same time. I was going to slit myself, but then a screen of comments popped up before my eyes. "Finally, the side character's getting the boot! MMC forced himself to take allergy meds for six months so he wouldn't have a breakout when this girl demanded answers from him." "Well, this character is the FMC's best friend. The FMC's been staying overseas all these years so she wouldn't break this side character's heart. Poor MMC. He had to travel back and forth for seven years." My hand froze in midair, and along it was the blade that would cut through my flesh. Then, my best friend, Louise Stone, messaged me. "I'm coming home, Yvonne."