Tragic Love Short Stories & Bias Cheating Novels

In our five years of marriage, I had given in to my husband, John, for a grand total of three times. The first time was during my pregnancy. He had taken his ex-girlfriend Stacy, who had once taken three bullets for him, back home and cared for her. When I became angry, he immediately sent her away once she recovered. The second time was after childbirth, when I was ready to return to work. To repay a favor, he gave the position I had worked years for to Stacy. He said it was so I could rest well. I looked at my son, who needed me, and I conceded. The third time was during our son’s birthday. In front of the entire company, he had announced that Stacy was his wife, all so she could establish herself in the company. I gave him two choices: divorce or send her away. Without hesitation, he chose the latter and immediately sent her abroad. The fourth time was when my father suddenly had a heart attack and urgently needed surgery. He disappeared again. I searched everywhere for him to cover the hospital expenses, and I finally discovered that he had gone to the airport to pick up a pregnant Stacy, who was returning to the country. Because of that, my father missed the best chance for treatment and died. I was done giving in. I disguised the divorce agreement as our son’s medical bill and tricked him into signing it. No compensation or apology would matter. I did not wish to have him near my son or myself again.

Jim Charleston is my foster brother. He and I have been dating in secret for 10 years. On the day we decide to go public, Jim receives an undercover mission assignment to Duskhaven, where he has slim chances of returning alive. The night before he left, he held me and promised, "If I come back alive, I will marry you in a grand wedding. I'll stay by your side forever." Foolishly, I broke ties with my family and waited for him. I became the laughingstock of the entire high society circle. Three years later, Jim returns but with a ruined reputation and enormous debts. Kneeling like a broken man before our father, he firmly declares, "I promised Anne I would take care of her for life, Dad!" The woman named Anne hid timidly behind Jim, clutching her pregnant belly tightly. Dad turns to me instinctively. Everyone is waiting for me to lose my mind and cause a scene. However, I just smile. Right then and there, I accept the engagement ring from the good-for-nothing playboy. On the day of my engagement party, Jim drives in recklessly. With a gun in his hand, he shouts, "Cecilia Forrest! If you dare go through with this marriage, I'll kill him!"

My younger sister was in a bad mood and went drinking at a bar, only to be dragged into a room by a few men. Not long after, she ended up pregnant. My husband, to protect her, actually suggested divorcing me so he could marry her instead. "Brooke only went to that bar because of me. I can't let people talk about her. Don't worry—once the baby is born and the paperwork is done, we'll remarry." I refused, but he heartlessly abandoned me, seven months pregnant, on the side of the highway. With my swollen belly, I walked for over an hour before finally making it off the road. There, I found my husband and my sister standing together, mocking me in my miserable state. "You wouldn't even help your own sister. Serves you right to suffer like this." "Noelle, don't be angry. I'm about to give birth, and Jensen only did it 'cause he was only worried about me." At that moment, I finally gave up completely. "Fine. Let's get divorced."

By the fifth year of my marriage to River Grayson, I had stopped checking his call logs and chat records. Instead, I spent my nights drinking and partying with my girlfriends at the poolside bar. When his ninety-ninth missed call lit up my screen, I let out a cold laugh and tossed my phone straight into the water. It didn't take long before he came storming in. The moment he pulled the strawberry-scented condom out of my pocket, he turned grim and banned me from leaving the house after 7:00 PM. "Joanne, you weren't like this before." I thought back to last month, when I had run into him at the hospital. He had lied about being on a business trip out of town, but there he was, holding Yvonne Sinclair's hand. I still remembered his words. "You lost your uterus from saving me back then. My sperm is perfectly fine. I'll give you a child—with your mother's help." Now, staring into his furious eyes, I said coldly, "Don't worry. There's no going back for us anymore."

My husband, Malcolm Thorpe, has low sperm motility. After 33 rounds of IVF, I finally got pregnant. On delivery day, I start hemorrhaging, and the medical team calls for an emergency C-section. Malcolm signs the consent form, then rushes straight back to his childhood sweetheart's birthday party. But instead of starting the C-section, the surgeon says, "Ms. Jacobson, the electronic medical record lists you as single. This consent form isn't valid." I stop breathing for a beat. The happy marriage I believe in turns out to be a sham. Later, Mom and Dad rush in and sign the consent for me. But by then, the baby is gone. The asphyxia lasted too long. After surgery, I scrawl my name on the cremation consent with shaking hands, then dial a number without thinking. "Samuel, are you free now? Meet me in front of City Hall."

My name is Regina Chavez. The first time Carter Gresham cheats, he falls to his knees before me, slapping himself in shame. The tenth time I catch him, he smiles and tries to comfort me. "Once I get my heart back on course, I'll come back to the family." The 20th time, his patience snaps. He yanks my hand away and throws a divorce agreement in my face. I tear the papers to shreds and spend the night destroying everything in the house. By the 30th time, Carter simply sends a signed divorce agreement. In a desperate bid to make him come back, I threaten to cut my wrists. But even as my blood pools across the floor, no one seems to care. When I wake up, his friends are gathered around me, telling me to get a divorce. "Haven't you already spent years building a life with Carter?" "He's already dealing with enough because of your depression. His seeing someone else isn't the end of the world. Do you really need to cry and threaten to kill yourself over it?" Without thinking twice, I find myself signing the divorce papers. The following day, I quietly schedule an abortion, keeping it a secret from everyone. I'm done waiting for Carter to come back.

My boyfriend and I had been together for eight years. We were already discussing marriage when Robbie suddenly asked me to wait a little longer. He said he needed to hold a grand wedding with his first love before he could marry me. Because, as he explained, for his first love—who struggled with anxiety—marriage was her greatest wish in life. He couldn't bear to see her spiral into self-harm under the weight of her illness, so with tears in his eyes, he promised to give her a home. Stunned, I asked what would happen to me. Instead of answering, he snapped impatiently, "Can't you show some empathy? It's just a year or two more. Are you really that desperate to get married? "And another thing… lend me your ring. Let Lucy wear it for now. You won't be needing it anytime soon." I stared at the man before me, someone both familiar and suddenly a stranger, and felt only a cold, hollow ache in my chest. But at last, I saw his true face behind the mask. Later, I chose to attend their wedding. I brought with me a very special blessing.

Everyone in Salt City knew that Michael, the city’s richest man, doted on his wife as if his life depended on it. As his wife, I was once the object of everyone’s envy. But when Rachel appeared, I realized for the first time that even the one who loved you the most did not have their heart set in stone. Afraid I would find out, he hid Rachel in a villa on the outskirts of Salt City and spoiled her beyond imagination, all in a place I could not see. Yet every time he was intimate with her, Michael would still warn her coldly, “If you ever let Evelyn find out about this, your good days will be over.” But she was never obedient. Relying on Michael’s favor, she surreptitiously flaunted herself before me every day. Her presence constantly reminded me that Michael was no longer the man who only had me in his heart. So, I chose to respect his decision and vanish from his sight.

I was the girl Ian Sutherland, the underworld boss himself, personally picked to be a shield for his beloved. By the third year of our marriage, I'd been kidnapped by his enemies for the eighth time. When Ian came with his men to rescue me, the negotiation hadn't even lasted five minutes before the girl called him. "Ian, I lost a dare and have to kiss one of the guys here. But I want my first kiss to be yours. Can you come get me?" … The moment Ian left without a second thought, a knife plunged into my abdomen, and blood gushed out. His men handled it the same way they had the last seven times—paying off whoever they had to, then sending me to the hospital. In the ambulance, I heard someone wondering if I'd live long enough to see the day that girl could stand on her own. They burst out laughing, while I was the only one crying. My mission to save the underworld boss had failed, and I was about to be erased by the system. Ian, I wouldn't live to see that day.

When Jeremy Sterling is framed by his rival, he immediately urges me to run for my life. "Save yourself! Pretend you never met me!" Despite being eight months pregnant, I leap from the moving car. I kneel in the snow for two days straight. Finally, I manage to secure a witness for his trial. The ordeal costs me our baby and leaves me with lasting health issues. The radiant principal dancer I once was becomes a frail shadow, gasping at the slightest breeze and surviving on pills. Later, Jeremy claws his way back to the top. He cradles the belly I fought through 18 rounds of IVF to have and makes a solemn vow. "When the baby's born, we'll name him Ryan Sterling. I'll never forget that you saved me." Tears of joy stream down my face. But shortly after I give birth, I overhear someone questioning him. "Mr. Sterling, this is Regina Gomez's flesh and blood. Is it appropriate to register Ms. Jenson as the baby's legal mother?" Jeremy gazes fondly at Carolina Jenson, who is holding our son, and scoffs. "When I was framed, she didn't even care about her own life. Do you really think she'd care about this baby? Besides, she already lost one baby back then. What's one more?" He shrugs. "At worst, I'll just break up with her. We never got the marriage license anyway." Outside the door, I clutch my aching stomach and turn away. Since we're not bound by a marriage license, this is where it ends for us.

On the day the true heiress and I swapped places, my childhood sweetheart, bound to me by a promise made in youth, gripped my hand before our families and declared, "I chose you, not your title." Anna Pedersen, tears brimming in her eyes, enveloped me in a trembling embrace. "Joanne, we'll always be family. I'd never take what's rightfully yours." Everyone assumed I'd turned misfortune into fortune. Though I lost my status as the Pedersen heiress, I gained a steadfast lover and a selfless sister. But three years after fate corrected itself, photos of Calvin Thomas escorting Anna to a prenatal checkup flooded the internet. When I confronted him, he exhaled a plume of smoke and said coolly, "Anna is my true betrothed. This is just setting things right. Why are you so worked up?" He seized my wrist and dragged our engraved engagement ring across the back of my hand, leaving a bloody gash. "This scar will remind you of the twenty years of life you stole. Your life and I belong to their rightful owner."

At the banquet to welcome her home from her studies abroad, my fiancee, Sienna Vaughn, shows up hand-in-hand with her foreign boyfriend, Jacques Castillo. She announces that she is calling off our engagement. Her parents, Harold Vaughn and Marissa Jenning, beg desperately for me to try to win her back, for the sake of all those years we spent together during our childhood. But this time, I refuse. "Let's end the engagement. From today onward, we'll go our separate ways," I say. … In my previous life, I had taken pity on Harold and Marissa and sincerely tried to keep Sienna by my side. In the end, she agreed to marry me. But three years later, my shares were siphoned away, my company went bankrupt, and I was left with massive debts. Unable to handle the burden, my parents, Ralph Hale and Emily Pierce, passed away. Sienna, nestled in Jacques' arms, spat, "You owe me this!" … Now that I am given a second chance at life, I return to the very day she returned from abroad. This time, she can marry whoever she wants. She thinks that I'm marrying her to save my company from ruin. But little does she know that the one really headed for bankruptcy is her family.

To save Hugh, I took the hit—literally. The kidnappers beat me so bad I ended up with a brain hemorrhage. My mind? Stuck at thirteen. Hugh, all guilt and promises, said, "Wenna, I'll protect you forever." And he did. He watched over me. When the house caught fire, he threw himself over me, took the burns, didn't flinch. Then came his oh-so-perfect foster sister. "Mia's not into... slow people. Maybe you should live next door," he said. And my son? The one I nearly died bringing into the world? "Stupid woman! You embarrass me and Dad. You're nothing like Aunt Mia—she's smart and pretty. If it weren't for you, she could've been my mom. You should just die!" To play hero for Mia, my son shoved me into the street. A truck did the rest. When I opened my eyes, I was back on the day Hugh proposed. This time? I wasn't here for his pity. And I sure as hell wasn't marrying him.

After getting back together with Peter Palmer, I stopped caring about where he went or what he did. He spent all our savings on Julia Sharp, and I didn’t even bother asking why. Maybe he realized something, because before leaving me once again to be with her, he said, “Julia’s leaving to live abroad tomorrow. She won’t be coming back. Once she’s gone, we’ll get married.” I gave a casual reply. After all, I was leaving too.

On the same day I was admitted into the hospital for my pregnancy, my husband, Charles Page, received 108 missed calls on his phone. It was from Sue, his mentee, a girl who had cancer. I asked if he was going to pick up, and he replied impatiently, "All she does is call me all day! Doesn't she have any other family? She's so annoying." Later, that very girl posted a photo of herself on the hospital rooftop, wearing a white dress. The caption said: [If I jump down from here, will I become a butterfly in my next life? Maybe then, everyone won't hate me.] Charles only glanced at the post before chuckling mockingly. "What does she mean, turn into a butterfly? Is she delusional?" But after that, he grew visibly restless, before rushing out and not returning all night. That night, I hemorrhaged and was taken into emergency care. When the nurse asked if I wanted to keep the baby, I looked at the empty space beside me and answered calmly. "No, I don't."

I am reborn on the day my wife, Courtney Clarke, embezzles company funds to pay off her childhood best friend, Travis Foster's, gambling debts. This time, I, Nathan Turner, don't sell my patents to help her plug her financial hole. Instead, I swiftly file for divorce with the court and cut ties with her. This is all because in my previous life, I had loved her with everything I had for 50 years. I was at her beck and call. She claimed she longed for a platonic marriage, and so I endured a sexless marriage for decades. All this lasted until the day of the shipwreck, when I gave her the last life vest. Yet, after she was saved, she never told the rescue team that I was still trapped inside the cabin. In my final moments, through a crack in the cabin door, I watched her throw herself into Travis' arms. "Trav, I love you. I only love you. From now on, no one will stand in the way of our love." In that moment, I abandoned all will to live, letting the sea swallow me whole. So this time, after being reborn, I choose to step aside and let her pursue her love.

I no longer deliver meals to my husband, Zachary Smith—the man who became the factory manager after receiving a scholarship that brought him to the city—since my rebirth. I even make sure to detour using the gate at the factory's north side whenever he uses the southern gate after he finishes his meetings. In my past life, I was fully aware he took me as his wife—a humble country woman—just for the chance to move to the city. Yet, I insisted on becoming his wife, anyway. After all, I was convinced that a person's true affections could be earned and nurtured. Yet, Zachary maintained a constant, formal distance throughout our marriage. He would simply offer me a book the moment I attempted to bridge the gap, saying, "You should study more so that you don't continually attract people's contempt." I got emboldened by the drink as I threw my arms around him, yet he merely accepted the embrace rigidly, whispering, "It's just what married couples do." It wasn't until decades later, as I lay on my deathbed, that I discovered the heartbreaking words in his autobiography. In it, he stated that our entire marriage was like being trapped in a mire and that he never wanted to be with me again if he were to ever be reborn. I felt a searing pain tearing through my heart as I closed my eyes in devastating anguish. When I open my eyes again, I find myself back at the point in time when the gossip about Zachary and Juliana Ziegler, the factory's technician who studied abroad, first began to spread. In this life, I choose not to fight or cause drama. Instead, I am the one who brings up the divorce.

The afternoon my critical condition notice was issued, Silas Stenson popped a bottle of champagne in the lab. On social media, a photo showed him and Wynter Keller standing side by side in the golden sunset, their white coats bathed in light. The caption read only one line—'Ten years—it finally worked.' Everyone said he was devoted, that he'd spent ten sleepless years trying to save me. When the nurse, her eyes red, showed it to me on her phone, I was staring at the wavering lines on the monitor. No one knew that the drug had already been perfected a year ago. And I was the only candidate who wasn't allowed to receive it.

Winona Warren never imagined that on her birthday, her son would hand her a walnut cake that could kill her. As her consciousness began to blur, she heard Asher Rhodes' furious voice. "Carter, don't you know your mother is allergic to walnuts?" Carter Rhodes' childish voice rang out with startling clarity. "I do. But I want Ella to be my mom instead. Dad, you want that too, don't you? Even if I..." A crushing wave of suffocation overwhelmed Winona before she could hear the rest of Asher's answer. In the second before she completely lost consciousness, Winona had only one thought. If she woke up, she would never be Asher's wife or Carter's mother again.

My wife cheats on me after five years of marriage. Standing at the doorway, I hear her whisper to her lover in a soft voice, "What are you afraid of? He's broke and pathetic. Do you think that he dares to divorce me?" I tighten my grip on the lottery ticket in my hand. I have just won 60 million dollars a moment ago. This time, I will see who is the broke and pathetic one!