قصص وروايات قصيرة عن Tragic Love وتضم Bias وتدور في Cheating

On the day of our wedding anniversary, my husband, Xavier Marshall, gave me a bangle. I tried it on and found it a size too big, with the bangle almost dropping off my wrist when my arm was down. I asked casually, “Why is it so big?” My husband stood in a daze for a second before wrapping an arm around my shoulders and saying with a smile, “I found this bangle beautiful, but it didn’t come in your size. You can still wear it even if it’s a little big, right?” I thought nothing much of it and happily put it back on. During a family gathering, I saw my husband’s best friend, Melissa Shanks, wearing a glass-grade jadeite bangle on her wrist. She smiled as she answered someone’s question, “This? It’s a birthday gift from Xavier. There were two of them, but I didn’t fancy the other ice-grade one, so I just kept this. “It’s hard to find a bangle in my size. I didn’t expect him to find two at one go.” I quietly hid my wrist under the table as my face flushed with embarrassment. The gift I had so treasured turned out to be a leftover from Melissa. Melissa, and not me, turned out to be Xavier’s priority. In that case, I no longer wanted the man or the bangle.

I take my daughter, Joy Silver, to the healer for a routine check-up. My Alpha husband, Ethan Silver, who has been away on a business trip for a few days, comes to pick us up. The moment we meet, he possessively pulls Joy and me into his arms. It's as if we are his whole world. But I catch a faint, unfamiliar scent. As Joy snuggles up to her father affectionately, I force a smile, ignoring the sudden tightness in my chest. It isn't until we get in the car that I notice a woman sitting in the back seat. So it's her scent. A thought that has circled in my mind countless times surfaces once more. I want to leave him.

After I exposed Scott Brophy's emotional affair online, I was ordered to post an apology video every day for fifteen days straight. [I should not have made your explicit chat logs with Ms. Kelsey Rowe public, and I should not have forgotten to blur them out.] [I should not have secretly recorded your flirty voice messages with Kelsey when I knew about them, and I should not have spread those recordings everywhere.] To show my "sincerity," I even included photos of the two of them along with their real names. ... Scott was furious and humiliated. Every time I posted a video, we'd end up in a huge fight. Then my thirteenth video went up. This time, I tagged his assistant, Kelsey, and offered her a "formal" apology. He stormed off in anger, yet to my surprise, he didn't lash out at me. I naively believed he was finally ready to admit his mistake and come back to our family for good. The next day, I cooked his favorite dishes and brought them to his office. The moment I pushed the door open, I was hit by the sound of intimate gasps and panting. Scott had his little assistant pinned down as she tried to get away, a nasty grin on his face. "Since we're already under suspicion, we might as well go all the way. Otherwise, the two of us are getting a raw deal." Seeing my eyes turn red, he sneered, "Who's to blame for this? You drove me to it." I stood there, frozen. It wasn't just Scott who was dirty now. Our seven-year marriage had been tainted too.

The day I turn 18, Jacob Pratt and I make a promise to watch the sunset at Crescent Lake together after we graduate from college. He says that when the sunset spreads across the lake, we'll have a bright future waiting for us too. Four years later, the day finally comes. But on the day we're supposed to leave, I suddenly come down with a high fever and have to stay at the hotel. That evening, I still can't bring myself to miss the sunset I've been waiting years to see. So after taking some medicine, I go to the lake alone. When I step onto the viewing platform, I see Jacob kissing my best friend, Susie Kinsella, under the sunset. His best friend, Andy Hall, is holding a camera, grinning as he records them. Susie leans against Jacob. "What if Hannah finds out about us?" Andy snorts. "You've hidden it from her for six months without getting caught. Why are you worried now?" "When are you going to tell her?" Susie looks at Jacob. With his eyes on the sunset, Jacob replies calmly, "I'll tell her when we get back. I promised to come with her to Crescent Lake, and I've kept my promise." He pulls Susie close. "From now on, you're the only one I'll share views like this with." Their laughter blends into the cheers from the crowd. No one notices me just a few steps away. I take off the necklace Jacob gave me, put it on the bench by the lake, and leave. At 18, I thought watching a sunset together was the perfect ending to love. At 22, I finally understand that even though the promise has been fulfilled, the person who promised to watch it with me has already fallen for someone else.

Yves Riverson had a new razor. It was royal blue, wrapped in red silk, and he placed it at the very bottom of his suitcase as though it were some priceless treasure. During the flight, the plane suddenly hit turbulence. The alarm screeched through the cabin, and in that moment, the thing he clutched was not my hand. It was the razor someone else had given him. Only after the plane landed did he seem to remember I was there. He gently caressed my hand and told me not to be afraid. I said nothing, nor did I push him away. After we left the airport, I watched him eagerly pick up his phone. "Yeah, yeah, it's fine." Then he turned and saw me. The smile on his face froze. "Just talking to my parents." I nodded and ended the call with his parents. The car was moving slowly, and he was happily chatting with that person. I was scrolling the screen. The jewelry purchases made through our linked-payment account. That person made sure to note that the razor must be royal blue. "To Ms. Samantha Shaw." Samantha's laughter drifted faintly from the phone. I looked at my tired reflection in the car window and suddenly blurted out, "When did you start having an affair with my best friend?"

My fiancé had an incredible memory. He could remember anything after seeing it just once. However, when he proposed, he forgot to bring the engagement ring. When we went to register our marriage, he forgot to bring his identification. On our wedding day, he completely forgot that he was supposed to show up. He was too busy rushing to the wedding next door, where he was helping his childhood sweetheart save the day. When my mother saw what happened, she suffered a heart attack on the spot. I begged my fiancé to come to her hospital ward and explain himself. Instead, the man who had always kept me at arm's length turned warm and affectionate with his childhood sweetheart's mother. As for me, he introduced me as nothing more than a junior from school who refused to leave him alone. After that, I arranged my mother's funeral by myself and applied for an overseas work assignment. When I returned home to pack my things, my fiancé had just come back from his honeymoon with that woman. He looked completely satisfied, a smile playing at the corners of his eyes. "Rose, how is your mom doing? We can pick another proper date for the wedding. That’ll make her happy." He had no idea that from the moment my mother died, there was no longer any possibility of a future between us.

As the younger sister of the most powerful Alpha in the Southern Territory, I dated Damon, my brother's biggest rival for Alpha King, for five years without telling my brother and parents. We were in love for five years, and he gave me everything. He always tells me his wolf can't control its desire when it sees me. That's why he likes to have sex with me anywhere, anytime—even out in the wild, he doesn't care. But the day before our mating ceremony, I found out that my fiancé was dating me just to threaten my brother to quit the election with our sex tape. After knowing the truth, I decided to give up everything and leave, but my fiancé humbly knelt on the ground and begged me to come back.

To celebrate our two-year anniversary, my boyfriend, Jace Cole, and I went whale watching in Monterey. When we checked in, the hotel manager recognized Jace and rushed over with a warm smile. "Welcome back, Mr. Cole! We’ve set up the room exactly the way you and Miss Laurent like it." Miss Laurent. Riley Laurent, Jace’s ex of eight years. My fingers curled tightly into my palms. The staff suddenly realized their mistake, color draining from their faces as they scrambled to swap Riley’s name for mine on the reservation details. Jace raised a hand to stop them. "Don't bother. Just clear out the flowers, the stuffed animals, and the cake." He shot me a brief glance. "Riley loved rituals. The staff here got used to setting all that up for us, so I guess they just defaulted to it today. Don't overthink it; Alex just forgot to cancel the package. Honestly, all that stuff is pretty pointless anyway." I swallowed the lump in my throat and said nothing. The next morning, we had to wake up early for the boat charter. I tried calling Jace’s name three times to get him out of bed. He just pulled the blanket over his head, his voice muffled. "It's always the same routine. Get on the boat, claim a spot, take a few photos. Riley and I already did it. Going back again is just boring. Go on your own." So, I boarded the boat alone, but luck wasn't on my side. Seasickness hit me hard, and I didn't even get to see a single whale break the surface. When Jace came to pick me up at the dock, one of the crew members recognized him and pulled out two printed photos from a past trip. In the first photo, Jace held Riley wrapped tightly in his jacket to shield her from the freezing ocean wind. In the second photo, they were kissing against a breathtaking backdrop of breaching whales. My stomach churned, and I forced my eyes away. On the third day, I told him I wanted to drive south along Pacific Coast Highway 1. Jace’s tone was flat. "Riley and I drove Highway 1 a bunch of times. There's nothing new to see down there, and I really don't feel like doing it again." A heavy silence settled over me. It hit me all at once. He had already experienced everything with Riley. Everything he had once shared with her, he now dismissed as pointless as if there was no reason to ever offer it to me. If this entire trip was nothing more than a tired rerun for him, then it was time to end it right here.

Ronan Carmichael and I are sworn enemies in Glenworth. Everyone in high society knows it. Where he is, I'm not, and where I am, he won't be. He poaches my projects on the East End, and I cut off his funding on the West Side. He drives my assistant off a rooftop, and I destroy his lover's reputation. The reason is simple. I'm in love with his older brother, Desmond Carmichael, and he has his sights set on my younger sister, Annette Sayer. Then comes the yacht gala. Business rivals seize me and shove me to the edge of the deck, screaming that my father is going to pay for his betrayal all those years ago. But Desmond only pulls Annette behind him and tells them, "She's just an illegitimate daughter. Do whatever you want with her." The moment I plunge into the water, Ronan is the one who dives in after me and grabs my hand with everything he has. "Forget about my brother, Daphne. Lunatics like us belong in hell together." And just like that, I think he's absolutely right.

A strange man showed up at my law firm today, insisting that I give him a legal consultation. "Joshua Platt, you know that money a wife spends on another man behind her fiancé's back can be recovered, right? "No matter how much she spent, that money doesn't belong to the man she's having an affair with, does it?" His questions came out of nowhere and left me puzzled, but I answered him patiently anyway. He nodded, satisfied. After running some numbers on a calculator, he held his hand out to me. "Good. You're a lawyer, so you know how this works, and I won't waste my breath. "If you don't want this to blow up, hand over the 560 thousand dollars my wife spent on you."

I followed an account of a couple that was not very popular but was very sweet. The account recorded every detail of the account owner and her boyfriend. They would argue over a plate of pasta and then look at each other and smile, playfully calling the other person a child at heart. They would hug tightly under the starry sky on a mountain top and say that they wished time could stop at this moment. Although the account owner never showed her face, I was still touched by her captions. The account was updated again the day before I was getting married. [Ten years of love ends here. From now on, he's just her husband, and I'm just her best friend. This account will no longer be updated. I wish my best friend and her beloved man a happy ever after.] The photo showed my fiancé, Josh Clark, and me, taken from behind.

Vincenzo Moretti was Stonehaven’s youngest financial titan— a tech mogul commanding a multibillion-dollar empire, gracing the covers of business magazines as a modern legend. But only a select few knew the truth: he was also the ruthless Don controlling the East Coast mafia. To him, wealth and power were mere chips in a game. And I? I was just another pawn used to stabilize a fragile family alliance. In our ten-year marriage, he slept with my friends, my coworkers… every single person I once trusted. Then one morning, as I took our one-month-old baby for a routine checkup, Sienna Newton, his latest mistress, ran me down with her car. The baby screamed endlessly. I begged her to take us to the hospital, and when Vincenzo arrived, he looked at me with cold disdain. “Isabella,” he sneered, “when did you learn to stage accidents? “Even if you died here, I wouldn’t bat an eye.” Then he took Sienna’s hand and walked away without a backward glance. By the time I was rushed to the hospital, the child in my arms had suffocated. Upon hearing the news, my mother suffered a heart attack. She didn’t survive. I slipped into a coma for two days. When I finally woke up, I found out that Vincenzo never visited. Instead, his father, Renato Moretti, the true king of the Moretti empire, stood by my bedside. I looked at him calmly and said, “Let me go. Whatever I owed your family, I’ve repaid in full with two lives.” Later, that same Don who had once looked down on me knelt before me, begging me to come home. But I was no longer the woman who waited, silent and broken, for his change of heart. I was the Don’s wife who turned away and never looked back.

When I catch my wife, Megan Fisher, cheating with my best friend, my severe depression drives me to the rooftop. My best friend, Alan Smith, is so remorseful that he slashes his face with a knife and leaves the country. To put me at ease, Megan puts a tracking device on herself and hands over her phone whenever she comes home. Whenever she leaves the house, even if it's just for five minutes, she will video call me to tell me where she is. That goes on until Megan becomes pregnant for the second time. While I set up Megan's prenatal records at the hospital, I receive a video call from myself—ten years in the future. The man on the screen looks as gaunt as a ghost, making my heart tremble. "Is my illness still not cured yet?" His eyes turn red, and he flips the camera around. In the frame, Megan is standing behind Alan. She is looking at him with eyes that hold suppressed devotion. "You asked me to be a good wife, so I did. But I'll never have his child! That's his punishment for ruining your face." "Megan, have you lost your mind?" Alan yells at her, but tears are streaming down his face. My face turns pale, and my future self lets out an unhinged laugh. "Go ask the nurse and see for yourself just how big a fool you are." Just as he finishes, the nurse says in confusion, "Mr. Sullivan, the system shows that you're single. You said your wife's name is Megan Fisher. She registered here last year, and her husband is listed as Alan Smith."

My fiancé hated anything that felt like a hassle. In the five years we dated, I always chose where we went. His only job was to have his driver take him there. For birthdays and anniversaries, he gave me the same Barbie-pink lipstick every time. When we started planning our wedding, nothing changed. I tried to go over the guest list with him, but he said it was too much trouble and couldn't be bothered to check it carefully. Even when it came to our engagement photos, he complained that the shoot would take too long, so we only did one basic package. Today, I came to the wedding planning studio alone to give final approval on the arrangements. As the planner, Claire Bennett, pulled up the renderings, she chatted casually with me. "You know, a while back, we had a gentleman come in who was incredibly meticulous about everything. "He personally sampled more than twenty different candies just for the wedding favors. The bride doesn't like sweets, so he even checked the sugar content of every single one." Claire smiled and went on. "Funny coincidence, too. He has the same last name as your fiancé, Sutton. And just like your fiancé, he doesn't like roses." The tip of my pen froze against the paper. Claire didn't notice anything unusual. She looked toward the entrance with a smile. "Look, Mr. Sutton is here again. "This time, he wants to add an outdoor fireworks display because he's worried the bride will feel cooped up indoors." I followed her gaze. Yale Sutton pushed open the door and walked in. All the disappointment that had piled up again and again, along with the shock of this moment, came crashing down on me at once. So he wasn't afraid of trouble. He just wasn't willing to go to any trouble for me. If his heart wasn't with me, then there was no reason to keep holding on. This relationship had run its course.

On June nineteenth—the day my boyfriend and I had planned to get our marriage license—he vanished without a word. It wasn't until that night that I stumbled across a post on his social media. He'd forgotten to block me from seeing it. "From twenty to twenty-eight, our youth: signed, sealed, delivered." The photo attached showed two marriage certificates. In the wedding picture beside it, a girl I didn't recognize leaned into his shoulder, beaming. Furious, I opened the comments to demand an explanation, and found my best friend's message waiting there instead. [Congratulations to the old flames who finally found their way back to each other!] My chest went tight. My hands shook as I called her. After a long silence, she finally told me the truth. "Yeah. They've been together for eight years. Everyone already knew. We didn't hide it to hurt you. We were just scared you'd make a scene. "Alice and Chase were always the better match. It wasn't easy for them to get to where they are today. Why make things hard on another woman? Just be the bigger person." The tears that fell were cold as ice, but where they landed, they burned straight through me. Twelve years together, and for eight of them, Chase Peterson had loved someone else. Everyone had known. They'd just all agreed to keep it from me.

On New Year's Eve, I hurry home from abroad to surprise my wife, Moira Wesley, from whom I've kept my return a secret. But when I push open the front door of our home, I'm greeted by the sound of laughter and friendly chatter. Overcome with emotions, I enter the house to see Moira with a baby in her arms as she announces sweetly, "Today, we celebrate New Year's Eve and Beatrice's one-month birthday! Happy New Year, everyone!" Upon hearing my entrance, Moira glances over her shoulder, then turns and walks toward me. She grabs the mug of hot tea on the table and splashes it at me. "Who are you? How dare you trespass into a private residence on New Year's Eve?" I try to ignore the burning pain on the left side of my face as I grab Moira's arm, hoping she'll explain herself. However, she shrugs off my grip and gives me another hard slap. "Noah, call the police! Tell them a suspicious person broke into our home and is attempting to rob us!" After that, Moira winks at me, then turns with the baby in her arms and joins an older couple. "Francine, Eric, don't worry about that. It was someone irrelevant." I stand in place, watching as the large family has fun in the house that now seems so unfamiliar, and feel a sudden wave of emptiness wash over me.

I was the daughter of a human noble house, and I married the man I'd fallen for at first sight: Adrian, heir to the vampire Prince. Adrian was unfailingly gentle with me. Every wedding anniversary, jewelry arrived at my door. Everyone said I was the luckiest woman alive. What they didn't know was that on our wedding night, Adrian told me not to let myself hope for anything from him. The anniversary gifts were chosen by his assistant. He never once celebrated with me. In ten years of marriage, Adrian went through more lovers than I could count. Every time, I was the one who wrote the check and dismissed the women he'd grown tired of. This time, I cleaned up after him as usual. That night, he wrapped his arms around me from behind, buried his face in my shoulder, and murmured his praise. “Elena, I always knew you were the sensible one.” I gave a faint smile and slipped out of his arms. “I can do you one last favor.” “Let's get a divorce.” The gentle smile stayed on his lips. Only his eyes went cold for the space of a breath. “Don't be like this. I'll spend more time with you these next few days.” When I turned my face away, Adrian assumed I was slipping back into my old self. I would weep, demanding to know why he couldn't even try to love me. But he didn't know. This time was different. I was dying, and soon I'd be leaving him for good.

On the day I caught my fiancé, Henry Smith, in our bed with my adopted sister, Stacy Ellis, I slipped into severe depression and took 30 sleeping pills. After I was saved, my parents, Harold and Karen Ellis, told me calmly that Stacy had been diagnosed with a terminal illness and only had three months to live. It was up to me if I wanted to forgive them. Henry teared up as he begged me, "It doesn't matter if you're willing to forgive. I'll keep my promise to give you a wedding in a month." When I saw how much he regretted what he did, I gave in to him. That ended when I came across a private conversation on my brother's phone. His name was Toby Ellis, and he was a doctor. Stacy had sent him a voice note, and she could be heard laughing daintily. "You're so smart, forging that medical report to trick that crazy woman, Toby." My hands were trembling when I confronted my family with the conversation. However, Toby remained silent and smoked his cigarette while my parents looked tired as they blamed me instead. "You're too emotionally fragile. We wouldn't have gone so far as to lie to you if we hadn't been afraid that you'd try to kill yourself again." Henry's eyes were filled with hate as he shielded Stacy behind him. "Can't you just be a little more accepting? Are you really determined to see your family all apart?" I watched the man I loved and my family make demands for me to give in to Stacy. I swallowed hard, tasting blood. In the end, I smiled calmly. They were willing to go as far as to claim that Stacy was suffering from a terminal illness just to protect her. All the while, they were unaware that my severe depression was real. It was also true that somatization was causing many of my organs to fail. I no longer wanted this family, especially when I would not be surviving past this winter.

On my wedding day, my fiancé showed up with another woman, flashing a marriage license. He announced, "She's my true love. Don't even think about taking her place." My doting brother sided with her too. "You've had a cushy life for over 20 years. Let her have this." I left quietly. My brother and my fiancé breathed a sigh of relief. They paraded the new girl around town, my brother even calling her his adopted sister to boost her status. They didn't know I'd gone to the border until someone mentioned me. I was done with them, but they started to regret it.

Audrey Vance was alone at a prenatal checkup when a massive earthquake struck, trapping her and another pregnant woman inside the exam room. A heavy piece of medical equipment crashed down on Audrey's abdomen. The pain nearly made her black out. In the darkness, the other woman spoke. "I'm Brielle Hart. Hang in there. We'll get through this. Someone will come for us." The pain had sapped Audrey's strength, and her voice came out weak and halting. "Call... my husband. He's in charge of the rescue team." With some effort, Brielle retrieved Audrey's phone from under the bed and called the number saved under "Hubby." Nine calls. No answer. Then the phone died. "Don't be scared," Brielle said. "My husband works for the Search and Rescue Unit too. He'll come for me." She pulled out her own phone and put the call on speaker. It connected after just one ring. "Honey, help me!" Brielle let out a single sob, and the man immediately tried to reassure her. "Don't be scared. I'm on my way." The rumble of heavy rescue equipment filled the call as crews rushed toward the hospital. Audrey felt her blood run cold. The deep voice coming through the speaker sounded exactly like her husband, Everett Shaw.