Tragic Love Short Stories & Bias Awakening Novels

I slit my palm and fed Irene Arlington my blood to keep her alive when we were trapped in a blizzard. The tissue in my legs had died from hypothermia. I had been in a vegetative state for five years. When I woke up, I heard a conversation between her and the doctor. “Mrs. Bradshaw, your husband’s condition is stable right now. There’s a good chance he’ll wake up. Are you sure you want to go through with euthanasia?” She spoke calmly, like she had already made up her mind. “Money isn’t the issue. I’ve already poured five years into him. I just can’t do this anymore. “With the way he is now, he’d be better off dead.” Those words hit me like a ton of bricks. Irene used to cry and beg me to stay alive. Five years had worn her down, and the woman I once knew was no longer the same.

My mafia boyfriend, Finn, is always bickering with his childhood friend, Amanda. For my birthday, she brought me a bullet vibe. "Here. For round two, just in case. I know his stamina better than anyone." He tossed a bottle of pale foundation at her. "Slap some more on. Maybe then someone will actually want to touch you." They shoved each other on their way out, slamming the door behind them. The candles on the cake burned down to nothing while I sat alone at the dining table. The first time our families sat down for a formal dinner, she smiled and slipped him a small bottle of lube. "Take it. So you don't make the poor girl suffer." His face darkened. "Better than you crying at night, hugging a body pillow." This time, Finn had arranged a private island vacation. A mutual friend quietly gave me a heads-up, telling me he was planning to propose on a cliff at sunset. After a seven-year marathon, I told myself this was it. The finish line was finally in sight. I dressed meticulously, putting on my most expensive dress, and walked toward the helipad. I pulled open the helicopter door. Amanda was already in the co-pilot's seat. She raised an eyebrow at me. "Chloe, you're here? I'm claustrophobic, so you don't mind if I sit up front, right?" Finn, gripping the controls, turned to look me over. "Chloe, you sit in the back. I'm worried she'll have a meltdown and start scratching and biting. It'll ruin the mood." Before I could say a word, Amanda was already arguing with him. "What's that supposed to mean? You think I'm a burden?" "It's not the first time I've thought so. Why are you being so dramatic today?" Their back and forth was so practiced it felt like a script they had rehearsed a thousand times. In that moment, the exhaustion of the past seven years washed over me. And for the first time, I realized I didn't want to say yes to his proposal anymore.

Nathaniel Cooper spent ten whole years slowly working his way into Audrey Sinclair's life. At last, he went from being a secret admirer no one knew about to the man she openly acknowledged as her fiancé. But just two weeks before their wedding, he decided to call it off. "I'd like to transfer to the research institute's Northwestern Branch. Please add my name to the list." Nathaniel placed the signed application form on the director's desk and spoke in a calm voice. The director, who had been looking at his computer, looked up in shock. "Nathaniel, aren't you and Audrey getting married next month? We all know you joined the institute to follow her. You're so close to finally getting what you want. Why would you choose to leave for the Northwest at such a critical time?" Nathaniel swallowed the bitterness rising in his chest and cut her off. "Just approve the transfer, please."

Dorian Keller hated hassle more than anything—so much that he kept a "standard schedule." Every gift was bought in bulk and shipped to arrive on the birthday itself. We always went to the same date spot. Trying a new restaurant took a written request a month in advance. Even intimacy had an alarm set for it. "Life's about keeping things simple. Let's not make trouble for each other." For seven years, I thought he was like that with everyone. Then, at a get-together with friends, the server brought out a plate of pomegranate. He took it and peeled it seed by seed into a glass bowl, picking away every bit of white pith. I was sitting right next to him. I reached for it. He paused and looked at me. Then he set the bowl in front of Arabella Crane. The girl who used to bully me. In high school, she tore up my homework, poured glue on my chair, and locked me in a bathroom through an entire class. Back then, Dorian pointed in her face and told her she'd die a miserable death. Now he sat beside me, slid the only bowl of pomegranate over to her, and said softly, "Slow down." I pulled my hand back. In that moment, I didn't want to stay there a second longer. And I didn't want him anymore either.

From the time I was 22 until I turned 30, Brianna Everly and I had a wedding every year. The only thing we never had was a marriage certificate. She said she was afraid of marriage, terrified that we'd end up like her parents. So I gave her eight years to prepare herself—until our eighth wedding, when Brianna showed up in the wrong wedding dress. It looked just like the wedding dress she'd always worn for our ceremonies, except for one detail. The name embroidered along the neckline wasn't mine. It was my best friend, Leon Stratford's. I was about to confront Brianna when my brother, Dominic Sterling, grabbed my arm. "Harrison, it's been eight years. What's the point of digging into it now? Just pretend you never saw anything." I stared at him in disbelief. "Dominic, you knew all along?" He stiffened and glanced at all the family and friends gathered at the wedding. "I'm not the only one who knows. Everyone does too." I stood there stunned, unable to find my voice for a long moment. "Why? Why did Brianna hold a wedding with me every year for the past eight years?" Dominic explained with pity in his eyes, "Having a wedding every year was Leon's idea. Except for the wedding when they actually got legally married, every wedding after that was one Leon had, and you had one too." It turned out the marriage certificate I'd spent eight years waiting for had been given to someone else long ago. Worse, I was the last person to find out.

After the family exchange program ended, the poor girl I swapped lives with became my parents' adopted daughter. Sophie Miller was everything I wasn't—soft-spoken, obedient, and endlessly grateful. She knew how to smile, say the right things, and make my parents feel needed. So, little by little, they began favoring her. My parents criticized me for being too cold, too stubborn, too independent. They gave Sophie the love, patience, and affection I had spent seventeen years believing were mine. Even my boyfriend, Ethan, took her side. He pitied her humble background and constantly overlooked me to make her feel better. I fought for years. I believed seventeen years of shared history meant they would not erase me so easily. Then I saw my parents' revised will. Sophie would inherit everything, the entire estate and controlling interest in Harrington Group. They were planning a wedding for Sophie and Ethan and wanted me to attend as the sister. After the fight, I drove away alone. Rain blinded me, and I died in a pileup near the Brooklyn Bridge. When I opened my eyes again, it was the day the exchange program ended. My parents sat across from me, telling me they planned to become Sophie's guardians. In my first life, I fought to keep her out. This time, I said nothing against it.

On our third wedding anniversary, Kent gave me a gift. A black metal wristband. Cold. Sleek. He called it a new product from his company—a pain-sharing system. The other user was Violet. His "girl bro." The person he was closer to than his own sister. Kent brushed a hand over my cheek, his gaze soft. "Clara, you're too coddled. You should learn from Violet. She's tough." Then he snapped the wristband onto my wrist. So while Violet got a full-back tattoo and an entire sleeve, I felt every single needle. When Violet went wingsuit flying, I collapsed at home. Every bone in my body felt shattered. I threw up blood. While she soaked up attention online as the "extreme sports queen," I was drowning in nonstop pain. Kent sat beside me, holding my hand as he cared. "Just hang in there. Violet's just being herself. As my wife, you should be more understanding." To finally push me over the edge, Violet decided to livestream herself jumping into the ocean to make me die in her place. Their friends couldn't wait to watch. Later, I watched calmly from a hospital room as the system slowly drained the life out of her. Kent looked deranged as he demanded to know why I wasn't dead. Because I had already reversed the system. All her vitality had become the nourishment that sustained me.

Whenever Jacob called my name, his first instinct was always to utter his ex's name, "Anna". On our first anniversary, the gift he gave me was written: [Anna, let’s be together forever.] When we were intimate, he couldn't stop himself from whispering in my ear, "Anna, tell me you love me." Every time he called me by the wrong name, I could only helplessly reiterate, "My name is Anya, not Anna." Over time, Jacob probably felt some shame. Before addressing me, he would pause to think for a moment, and then successfully say my name, "Anya." Just when I thought he had finally stopped confusing the two of us, Anna suddenly returned. From then on, whenever Jacob introduced me to the rest of the pack, he called me "Anna" more frequently than ever. Even during our mating ceremony, as he held out the ring to me, he called out, "Anna, will you be my mate?" Looking at Jacob standing before me, I didn't bother to correct him this time. Since the name he called wasn't mine, I shouldn't be the one to accept.

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.

On our graduation trip, my best friend, Maddie, hadn’t managed to snag a lower bunk in our Amtrak sleeper car. As she stared at the upper bunk with a troubled look, my boyfriend, Hal, teased her. “What’s wrong, Short Stuff? Can’t climb up there?” Maddie smacked his arm. “If you’re not going to help, shut up.” Instead of getting upset, Hal nudged me. “True, switch bunks with her. Knowing her, she’ll fall on her way up and land right on top of you.” I shifted my gaze to Hale, my mind wandering back to the journey throughout. He’d bought two breakfast sandwiches at the station, one of them being a vegan option. Hal had called Maddie out for always watching her weight. Still, he offered the vegan sandwich to her and handed me one with bacon, even though it wasn’t my choice of protein. When we arrived at the station, we had to haul our luggage down a flight of stairs. He’d grumbled about Maddie overpacking even when she couldn’t handle the luggage herself. Yet, Hal carried her suitcase down the stairs while leaving me to struggle with my own by myself. When we were deciding where to go, he’d scoffed at Maddie for not being able to handle a bit of spice, kicking up a fuss that she was ruining my chance to visit New Mexico and see the hot-air balloons. Then, without a second thought, he’d booked us tickets to Florida instead. He was supposed to be my boyfriend, but whenever Maddie was involved, he was always saying one thing and doing another. His priority was always her. So, I shook my head. “No, I’m not switching.”

On my thirtieth birthday, Levi Maddox's childhood friend sent me a screenshot of her latest post. She'd tagged it at an amusement park. In the photo, Levi was bent down, tying her shoelace. The caption read: "Somebody said thirty-year-old women are way too boring. Taking a little kid like me out to play is so much more fun!" I stared at the screen for a long time. I didn't like it, and I didn't reply. Less than five minutes later, Levi called. Amusement park music played in the background, and Tessa Wynn was shouting beside him that she wanted cotton candy. Levi sounded casual. "Saw it? Tessa insisted on coming. If you're willing to swallow your pride today, admit you were wrong, and promise you'll never check my phone again, I'll rush home tonight and cut the cake with you." I knew this was his usual trick. Every time we fought over his total lack of boundaries, he'd run off to Tessa. He'd take her to the movies, on trips, dress in matching outfits with her, and then sit back, smug and superior, waiting for me to break down and give in. He'd once said, "Only when you see me with someone else will you learn to rein in that scary need to control everything. Besides, Tessa's like a little sister to me. It's not like you'd really be mad." Tessa always played along sweetly, too. "Sienna, please don't be upset. Levi just sees me as a little sister." On the other end of the line, Levi was still waiting for me to say, "I was wrong. Please come home." But as I looked at the birthday dinner going cold in front of me, I suddenly felt bone-tired. "Don't bother rushing back. "I'm thirty now. "I'm done being your nanny."

Three days ago, my vampire fiancé, Clan Lord Raven Ashford, took his aide Vera on a private overnight trip to the southern border and gave her the seat reserved for his betrothed. He expected me to make a scene. I didn’t. I had stopped fighting a month ago. A year's worth of small surrenders had finally added up to something I could no longer ignore. He handed the border treaty I had negotiated myself to Vera, thinking I would appeal to the elders. Instead, I organized the handover documents and sent them over. He dismantled the territorial affairs I had managed for years, piece by piece, to pave Vera's way forward. I said nothing. I took the blame that was mine, accepted the cold looks, and let it all pass. At the banquet, he seated Vera beside him. He nodded more at her words than at mine. He thought I had finally accepted it, thought I was afraid to lose him. Then he came to me with offers. A manor in the south. Hunting grounds in the west. The family ring that should finally go on my finger. For the first time, he initiated these things himself, speaking as though granting me rewards. I asked for nothing. The dissolution papers he had already signed were buried among the documents he approved without reading. Those papers contained two declarations: the end of our betrothal and my departure from the clan. He never noticed. He still believed I was his betrothed, still waiting. I wasn't.

After Yvonne Preston's childhood sweetheart, Oliver Emerson, hits someone while drunk driving, she gets on her knees and begs me to take the fall for him. "Ollie's father saved my life. Can't you endure this for my sake? Once you get out, we'll get married." I nod with tears in my eyes, only to discover after entering prison that my two-month sentence has been turned into six years. I attempt to retract my statement, but all I get in return is a brutal beating. "We've been told to keep a close eye on you. Who the hell do you think you are? You should take a good look at yourself before you start thinking you have a chance with Ms. Preston!" I'm beaten until my eyes are red and swollen, and the last thing I see before I lose consciousness is Yvonne holding Oliver's hand on television as they announce their engagement. My heart turns to stone, and after six agonizing years that feel like an eternity, I'm finally released from prison. However, as I quietly board the train with my luggage, Yvonne's assistant, Juliette Parker, appears in front of me. "Ms. Preston wishes to see you, Mr. Clark," she says respectfully.

In my past life, Noah Luther, my brother, runs away from his engagement. The bride, Julia Zimmerman, shows no resentment and simply switches the arrangement to me right on the spot. She is courteous and thoughtful toward me after the wedding, but that all changes when Noah crosses someone abroad and has his limbs crushed. She actually spends the whole night in the study after learning of that incident. I assume Julia is worried about my safety when she sends over a dozen bodyguards to me the following day, a gesture that touches me deeply. I suddenly lose consciousness out of nowhere the next day. Then, I get abducted to an abandoned factory and have my hands and legs crushed bit by bit. It's so painful that I try to bite my tongue to commit suicide from the agonizing pain. Julia walks in slowly, looks at my condition, and says wistfully, "So that's how much pain he went through back then." When Noah trips and falls during rehabilitation and loses a tooth, Julia violently pulls out my tooth with pliers that very same night. She looks at my bloody mouth and says calmly that she's only doing this for my sake since I eat too much. Soon after, I "happen" to fall down the stairs when Noah sprains his back, forcing me to stay in bed for three months. Julia even breaks a cup and drives the shards into my hand when Noah accidentally slices his finger while chopping vegetables. Noah later dies in a car accident abroad. Julia drags me to a bridge over the river and jumps off with me, saying, "You're just a stand-in for him. He's dead now, so you shouldn't live either." I open my eyes and find myself back on the day Julia arrives to talk about the wedding arrangement. Noah has already fled through the back door, so she looks at me coldly and says, "I'll marry you, then." I merely smile and say, "I'm already in love with someone else, so please find another person for this marriage, Ms. Zimmerman."

After my family went bankrupt, my wife, Claire Finley, was drowned in the river by debt collectors. To pay off our debts, I took on a job at an underground casino as a human punching bag. Every punch I took earned me 50 bucks. Then, one day, I'm about to deliver drinks to a private room. Through the crack in the door, I see Claire—supposedly dead—sitting in the seat of honor, leisurely sipping a glass of fine red wine. "It's been over three years since I last saw Nathan. I wonder how he's doing." Dad, dressed in a sharp suit despite our family's so-called bankruptcy, sighs. "He's probably been hiding away, grieving for a few years. Once he gets over it, he can always find someone else. Whatever happens, you and Victor will get to live in peace, so long as he believes you're dead." Victor Gray is Dad's son with his first love. A glance around the private room reveals nothing but familiar faces. My once-close friends are all there, along with the very people who have supposedly killed Claire. So, everything has been a setup from the start. The only thing that has been real is the hell I've endured over the past three years. Balancing 20 bottles of beer in my arms, I smile and shake my head. Once I save up 80 dollars for an urn, they can finally be free of me.

My wealthy wife, Celia Quayle, controlled the household. I bought a three-dollar bottle of water, and she scolded me for wasting money. But she bought her bodyguard, Mason Johnston, a house, saying she got a deal on it and that he deserved better. I confronted her about it. She said buying the bodyguard a house was to keep him motivated, and that she was saving money for our wedding. However, while I was working a part-time job with my younger brother, Cyrus, we saw her booking the Century Hotel for a wedding ceremony with Mason. She even broadcast the entire event live. Cyrus was furious and went to confront her, but Mason’s men rammed him with a car. It was a BMW. The accident left Cyrus with massive medical bills. I called Celia and begged her to return my bank card so I could pay for his treatment. She replied coldly, “I can’t believe you’d use your own brother as an excuse to cause a scene. Look, I’ll explain everything after the wedding.” I desperately rushed to the venue. But before I could enter the hotel, I learned that Cyrus had passed away. When Celia saw me arrive, she hurriedly pulled me aside and explained, “This wedding is just a business arrangement. Don’t overthink it. Once everything settles down, I promise I’ll give you a proper wedding.” Little did she know that the moment I received news of Cyrus’ death, I no longer wanted her as my wife.

The moment I decided to leave Vincent Graves, I did three things. First, I recalled the pregnancy report I had been about to forward to him and replaced it with a scheduled breakup message. Second, I called the bridal boutique and cancelled the custom order for my wedding dress. I had been measured three times for it. I had waited five months. I never wore it. I never would. Third, I called Dr. Helena Shaw and accepted the invitation I had turned down a week ago. An eight-year medical research program. Completely sealed. No contact with the outside world. Before he could pull off the wedding he had been planning, I vanished from his life completely. He never noticed that while he let Cora take my place at the wedding rehearsal and stayed out all night, I was quietly erasing every trace of myself, step by step. I became exactly the wife Vincent always said he wanted: reasonable, gracious, unbothered. But after I was gone, he lost control and asked me, "Why aren't you angry? Don't you love me anymore?" I said nothing. I only remembered the flirtatious voice messages Cora had sent him, the ones I had heard from his phone. And I calmly dialed the number that would take me away.

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.

Every time Millie Johnson, my daughter, returns home from playing with my best friend's dog at his place during summer break, she brings home an expensive doll. I have no choice but to pinch pennies and save up for a gift for my best friend after seeing how much Millie loves the dolls. I return home earlier than usual one day and overhear Millie talking excitedly into her smartwatch from her hiding spot in her room. "Mission accomplished, Mommy! Daddy didn't suspect a thing!" I am momentarily stunned. I am convinced that I have misheard, but then I hear Millie ask for a reward. "You're taking your wedding anniversary photos with Papa today, right? Can I come along, too? I'm so sick of eating plain pasta with Daddy every day, Mommy!" I freeze, my breath catching as I snatch the smartwatch from her. I happen to see the photo that has just been sent over. Sophie Johnson, my wife—who is supposed to be on her janitorial duty this morning—is actually wearing a pure white wedding dress. I stare at the screen, my hands trembling uncontrollably as my heart skips a beat. Millie tosses her doll aside and hurriedly tells me off, "You can't just snoop on me, Daddy! I'll be heading out to play with the doggy later, so don't bother us!" She excitedly peers out the window and waits for her ride after saying that. I stand frozen in place, staring at the apology message Sophie sent just a minute earlier. "I'm so sorry, Steven. It's all my fault for blowing the business and making you and Millie suffer so much all these years. I swear I'll make it up to you, Steven." I feel a sharp pang in my chest, leaving me barely able to breathe. I don't want to confront Sophie yet, so I simply trail the car that has come to pick Millie up instead.

I have intermittent aphasia. Whenever I get too emotional, I lose the ability to speak. Everyone mocks me for being mute, but my best friend and stepbrother, Julian Cadwell, and my childhood sweetheart, Vivian Wilder, are the only ones who stand up for me. When I confess my feelings to Vivian, Julian reads the love letter aloud on my behalf. On the day I propose, it is Julian who asks her for me. I thought they understood me best. When we start planning the wedding, I want a traditional ceremony, but Julian changes that plan because, in his words, "Modern ceremonies are more romantic." I want our new home to be in the heart of the city. But before I can say anything, Julian says, "Anton doesn't like the hustle and bustle. The suburbs are just right." Just like that, Vivian immediately decides on a new house in the suburbs. On the day of the wedding, I change into my suit and walk out, only to find the house completely empty. I ask about the situation in our family's group chat. Then, I get a video call almost instantly. Everyone is already at the wedding venue. Vivian tells me, "Anton, you don't need to come to the wedding. Julian will go through the motions in your place." My mother says, "Anton, a wedding is a big occasion. What if you can't speak when the time comes? Our family can't afford the embarrassment!" Julian says with a smile, "Anton, the wedding is just a formality. It doesn't matter who the groom is. I'm also Mom's son." For the first time in years, I speak in front of everyone. "You two can get married. I'm done."