Tragic Love Short Stories & Bias Cheating Novels

After Dustin Horne cheated and returned to our marriage, my entire family turned into my surveillance team. When he went out to take out the trash, my dad trailed him and sent me a video. "He's behaving himself. Didn't even look at his phone once." When he went to his law firm for a meeting, my mom disguised herself as a cleaner to sneak in. "There wasn't a single woman within ten feet of him." When he came back from trying a case out of state, my best friend scanned him top to bottom with a detector. "No stray hairs, no lipstick marks... all clean." Everyone swore to me that Dustin's heart was back where it belonged. Even Dustin himself stayed by my bedside every night, taking vows that he would only ever love me and our baby. That was until seven months into my pregnancy, when he went away on a business trip and I went in for a routine checkup alone. Passing by the maternity ward, I caught sight of him cradling a baby, kissing the woman in the hospital bed with tears of joy. My parents and my best friend were standing around the bed, cheering right along with him. I recognized the woman in an instant. It was his former mistress, Hattie Shields. Everyone panicked at the sight of me, instinctively bracing themselves to shield the baby. Yet I simply stepped forward and straightened Dustin's collar. "The baby's cute. Looks just like you. I won't interrupt you guys. I need to get back home and do the laundry."

My boyfriend was supposed to come to my parents' house that day to ask for their blessing before proposing. My parents had prepared a whole table of food for him. I sat at the table and came across my boyfriend Sebastian Graham's story. In the photo, his childhood friend and "little sister", Claire Crawford, was wearing a beautiful white wedding dress. She looked sweet and gentle. His caption read. "Giving the girl I promised to marry as a child the wedding she never got. The wedding may be fake, but our bond is real." As I looked at the food in front of me that had been reheated countless times, I couldn't help but feel disappointed. Just a few hours earlier, I had been secretly happy that after waiting seven years, we were finally going to take the next step in our relationship. My parents and I had already been waiting for him for three hours, but he hadn't even told me whether he was coming. He was throwing Claire a grand and romantic fake wedding, yet he couldn't even show up for one of the most important moments of our relationship. I looked at the wedding dress sketch I had carefully designed as a surprise for him and gave a bitter laugh. Just one week ago, we had agreed on all the plans and timing for today. For the past seven years, he had prepared all kinds of celebrations for Claire every year, but he had never put the same effort into planning anything for me. After waiting for a long time, my mother finally asked me sadly, "Margaret, are we still waiting for him?" I quietly replied, "No. We're not." From that day on, I decided I would never wait for him again.

Ten years into my marriage to Joshua Ford, heir to the largest fortune in Kingsbury, I receive a video. The footage is shot inside a car. The video is shaky, and the sounds coming from it are vile. When I hold up my phone to confront him, the moaning is still echoing through the living room. Joshua's expression remains calm. He just shrugs like it's nothing. "Younger women are just fresher. Your health isn't great, so I wouldn't dare push you to try anything wild. But everyone craves a little excitement, right?" I freeze in place, my arm going numb from holding up the phone. "That's your explanation?" Joshua doesn't answer me. His gaze drifts over me with casual indifference. "The truth is, all these years, you've never exactly been someone I could take out in public." I look at him, and my heart goes cold. So, the forever we promised each other turns out to be just ten short years.

In the third year after our separation, Robert Mason came into the store to buy clothes, holding his child's hand. He froze for a moment when he saw me. I treated him as I would any other customer, polite and composed, and maintained a respectful distance. I never once brought up the past. He fell silent for a moment before his gaze dropped to my deformed fingers. "Does it still hurt here?" I calmly pulled down my sleeve to cover them and assured him that everything was fine, as if nothing between us had changed. We had simply fallen out of love. That was all.

My brand of teenage heroism meant charging straight into the line of fire for my childhood friend. When they made him stand in the hall, I stood beside him. When people spread rumors about him, I set the record straight. When a pack of thugs cornered him, I came in swinging. Jessica Garner, the girl who grew up next door to me, was always on my case about never looking out for myself. Still, she stood beside me in the hall. She guarded the door to the PA room for me. She carefully dabbed ointment on my cuts, one by one. Years later, Daniel Jonasson's fiancée cleaned him out. He lost both his money and the woman he loved. My heroism flared up again. Within half a month, I gathered the evidence, filed the lawsuit, and argued the case myself. I made her pay until she had nothing left. Jessica told me I pushed myself too hard, but she stayed by my side anyway. Then, on the eve of the wedding, a mutual friend called out of nowhere. He told me Daniel's ex had found out his new girlfriend was pregnant. She'd sent men after him, and he'd ended up in the ER. My mind went blank. Without thinking, I rushed into his hospital room. Then I looked up and found Jessica standing right beside his bed. Only then did I remember. I had always been the one asking her to look after Daniel. There was no time to say anything to her. I turned to him in a panic. "Are you okay? I already covered the hospital bill. I heard your girlfriend's pregnant. Was she shaken up? Where is she? Do I know her?" Daniel's expression turned awkward as he glanced at Jessica. My heart lurched. I followed his gaze. Jessica raised her head, her expression calm. "You do. It's me."

In her past life, Elara Newman had married Orion Baron, who turned out to be an absent husband. On the day she gave birth, she suffered a severe hemorrhage and lost consciousness. However, Orion was unreachable. After she was snapped awake by the doctor, she had to sign her name on the surgical consent form while her hands were still shaking. When her children caught a raging fever, Orion was still nowhere to be seen. She had to rush to the hospital all by herself, and after three consecutive days of looking after them, she was exhausted and passed out in the corridor. On the day when her parents passed away in a car accident, Orion was still absent. As she returned home with the urn containing her parents' ashes, she was greeted by a vicious slap across the face. Her uncle immediately berated her for failing to win her husband over. He blamed her that her parents never got a chance to see their son-in-law before they passed and could never rest in peace. By the time Elara turned fifty-eight, she was terminally ill with cancer. Her life was coming to an end.

My husband, Jonathan Rivers, was a notorious playboy in Polesburg's elite circles. Beautiful women surrounded him constantly, yet he claimed to have fallen for me at first sight, saying it was a love that would last forever. He dismissed all the other women around him for my sake. Everyone said I was his destined soulmate. Seven years into our marriage, I had seven abortions for him, simply because he said he did not like children. Then on Father's Day, I saw him on his secretary's social media feed. The same man who claimed to be away on business was there with a child beside him, calling him "Daddy" loudly. It turned out that when he said he did not like children, he meant that he did not like children with me. I dialed his number through tears. "Do you want another wife?"

On the day before my wedding with Anthony Jackson, I was involved in a car accident. When I was semiconscious, I heard his conversation with the doctor. "Anthony, are you sure you want to give Indya Nina's corneas? Once it's done, then Nina will be blinded for the rest of her life." "I'm sure. Nina will still have me for the rest of her life, but Indya can't lose her eyesight. Make sure you don't leave any loose ends." As soon as he finished speaking, I felt a hand stroking my face. "Don't worry, Nina. I'll be your eyes for the rest of your life." It seemed that the person that I had deeply loved had always been loving another woman. If that was what they wanted, then I would fulfill their wish.

I had been married to Adrian Foster for six years when I finally conceived his child. However, the doctor’s reaction upon hearing Adrian’s name left me frozen. "I clearly recall that Mrs. Foster already gave birth to a son here two years ago. She’s a famous actress, and she and Mr. Foster made the perfect couple." I stared at her in disbelief. "What are you talking about? We’re legally married. We have a certificate!" "There’s no mistake. Mr. Foster is someone notable, and he doted on his wife. He was always by her side." I stormed out of the hospital in anger, but my hope was shattered when the lawyer confirmed that my marriage certificate was a forgery. The world tilted into darkness. My ears rang, my surroundings blurred, and I could no longer hear a thing. At last, I understood. He had never been my husband. He had never once looked forward to the child growing within me. With shaking hands, I dialed my family’s number, and in my heart, I swore that this merciless liar would burn in hell.

Mindy Graham left me at the altar to meet her ex-boyfriend, who left her five years ago when she was almost disabled. The wedding guests were shocked when they saw me clenching the corner of her wedding dress, trying my best to keep up appearances. "Can you not leave now?" Mindy hesitated but chose to slowly pry off my fingers while shaking her head. "I'm sorry. I have to go. I need to find out why he left me so heartlessly back then." She left without turning back amidst the shocked gasps from the crowd. My mother, who had a heart condition, trembled with rage, and I watched in shock as she passed out and fell to the ground. "Mom!" I was breaking down but forced myself to get it together and take her to the hospital. I fell to the floor outside the surgery room, and that was when two messages popped up on my phone. The first message was from Johnny Packer: [I told you that Mindy would never choose you if I came back. You've lost again.] Mindy sent the second message: [Give me 30 days. We'll be broken up during this time, but I promise I'll love you and only you after this is over.] There was a dead look in my eyes as I laughed bitterly with self-deprecation. This time, I refused to let myself lose.

No one in Harbor City knew that Mia Sterling, the heiress who had once had countless men falling at her feet, couldn't even get her own husband, Mark Hayes, interested in her after they got married. The most humiliating time was when Mark had taken medication and still showed no reaction whatsoever. Mia curled up on the bed, her tears soaking into the pillow. Mark simply got up and calmly dressed. "Sorry, Mia. I still can't get aroused with you." They had been married for five years. And in those five years, he had said some version of that sentence more than eighteen hundred times. At their last family dinner, both sets of parents had started pressuring them to have a baby. But Mark wouldn't even touch her. Mia began tormenting herself with doubts. Was she really that unattractive to him? After struggling with the thought all night, she finally went to the most exclusive private club in the capital, determined to learn a few tricks from its most sought-after stripper. She handed the hostess a card. "Teach me everything you know." The stripper arched a brow, genuine surprise flashing in her eyes. "This is the first time I've had a socialite come to me for lessons."

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

One day, I was bringing lunch for Joshua Warren when I noticed a new flower shop that had just opened downstairs from his office. On a whim, I decided to stop by and buy a bouquet. However, when I stepped inside and asked, I learned that every flower in the shop had already been reserved. The owner gave me an apologetic smile. "I am sorry. My boyfriend hates seeing me work too hard. Every day after noon, he buys out all the flowers in my shop. He says it is a little perk for his employees." I smiled and told her, "I am jealous." However, my thoughts immediately went to Joshua. He had never been the kind of man to notice the things I did for him. He only complained that my cooking was too salty or too bland, that my plans were not thorough enough, or even that the color of our curtains needed to be changed for some carefully reasoned explanation. It was as if everything I did could only earn one response from him: criticism. I was about to leave when I happened to glance at the screensaver on the owner's phone. It was a picture of her and her boyfriend, smiling together. I knew that man's profile so well that I could have drawn the curve of his jaw with my eyes closed. It was the same man who slept beside me every night. Suddenly, I remembered how he had come home every day for the past three months with the faint scent of flowers lingering around his collar. I had always assumed the jasmine bushes outside his office were in bloom. I was wrong. It was not the flowers that had bloomed. It was his heart. I had always thought that Joshua simply did not know how to be gentle. Now I understood that his tenderness had never disappeared. He had simply given it all to someone else, leaving me with nothing but the shell of a man who always found something to criticize.

After three years in a psychiatric hospital, I finally escape. Three years ago, I watched my fiance, Ethan Cregger, die in a car accident right in front of me. Already born with a heart condition, I spiraled under the weight of grief. Then everything else fell apart. My family lost everything. Dad seemed to age overnight. Mom cried until there were no tears left. Adrian Mercer, my childhood friend, gave up the money he'd saved to study abroad just to pay for my treatment. Even my younger sister, Mia Bennett, worked three jobs and begged me through tears not to give up on life. Not wanting to burden them any further, I voluntarily admitted myself to a psychiatric hospital. Three years later, I finally make my way back to our old family estate, now supposedly sold, for one reason. I want the bottle of wine Ethan and I buried together years ago. But through the floor-to-ceiling windows, I see a dead man—Ethan. He is alive and well, with his arm wrapped around my sister. My parents look happier and healthier than ever. Adrian is placing a birthday hat on the young boy standing between them. Everyone claps and sings, gathered around the cake like one big, happy family. And suddenly, I understand. Ethan never died. He simply built a new life with my sister. While I spent three years trapped in the past, everyone I love moved on without me. They created an entire lie just for me. Fine. If they've already decided there's no place for me in their lives, then I don't want them anymore.

On our fifth anniversary, Henry Judd—the guy who once swore he'd propose—rented out an entire mall for Cecilia Cheape's birthday. A diamond the size of a pigeon's egg sparkled on her finger. I'd been dumb enough to think it was meant for me. "Cece, I'm gonna give you a birthday you'll never forget," he announced, loud enough for the whole world to hear. Then he yanked the tab off a soda can and handed it to me. "Lulu, those gaudy things don't suit you. You deserve something unique." He slid the can tab onto my finger—his version of a proposal. Cecilia got the dream birthday. I got a piece of trash and a slap of reality. Later, when he found out I was marrying someone else, he got down on one knee with that same ring and begged me to say yes.

When I found out my wife was pregnant with her lover’s baby, I thought I’d lose my mind just like the first time I caught her cheating, smashing up the whole house like a lunatic. Instead, I looked at our antique vase and realized it was far too expensive to break over them. It just wasn't worth it. Later, walking past a bakery, I thought seeing her buying baby supplies with Joseph would ruin my appetite. Yet, to my surprise, the cake I bought tasted better than usual. Before going to bed, that familiar dark urge to swallow a handful of sleeping pills crept up on me again. I thought I was about to lose my mind and take the most drastic measures to get back at that despicable couple when my therapist sent a message, reminding me once more to go outside and get some fresh air. So, I headed south to soak in the sun and feel the ocean breeze. For twenty-seven whole days, I didn’t think about them once. That was until my wife, Sarah, called. “There are three days left in our divorce waiting period. Don’t forget to come back so we can finalize the paperwork. “Don’t worry, Daniel. This is just temporary. After I have the baby, we’ll remarry. You know you’re the only one I love.” Only after her reminder did I remember the divorce was even a thing. This time, though, I was exhausted. I didn’t want to play their games anymore. So, with the ocean breeze on my face, I said almost without thinking, “How about this time, we end it for good?”

In the seventh year of dating Lorenzo Townsend, he still didn't want to marry me. One day, I said to him, "Lorenzo, I'm getting married." He frowned slightly, not even sure if he heard me right. "The company is going public, and we're swamped. This is not the time to discuss such an insignificant topic," he said. I smiled calmly. Maybe to him, it seemed like I was pushing him to marry me. But the truth was, I was getting married, but not to him.

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?]

I waited half an hour for a cab in the pouring rain. When one finally arrived, Claire held the door open and spoke to the driver. "My friend has been through something traumatic. Could you take him home first?" Her so-called friend was Adrian Cole, her ex. The driver glanced past her at me, uneasy. "But this gentleman booked the ride." Only then did Claire seem to remember that I was standing there — her actual boyfriend. "He won't mind. I'll pay extra." Once Adrian was inside, she took a picture of the license plate, the way she always had, and reminded the driver—twice—to get him home safely. She didn't ask what I would do. She got into her own car and left. She never drove me to or from work. People might get the wrong idea. I stood alone in the storm for another two hours. Not a single driver accepted my request. Then I saw Adrian's post: a whole gallery of license-plate photos. "All these years, and she still hasn't broken the habit." I zoomed in on the screenshots. From the time they'd been together until now, Claire had taken more than thirteen hundred of those pictures. She was so careful about appearances with me. Yet as Adrian's "friend," she could make sure he got home safely every day. She said she'd forgotten him. But the habit was in her bones, and that hadn't gone anywhere. And suddenly, I knew. I didn't want a relationship where even my safety came second.

I've always been a little slow on the uptake, always a beat behind everyone else. I tend to leave my keys in the door and don't remember to take them out until the next day. Sometimes, I order two takeout meals and completely forget I even placed the orders. I don't even notice when my girlfriend goes off the grid for days. Justin Peck pokes me in the forehead. "Nathan Walker, you're something else. How did you even manage to lose track of your own girlfriend? Aren't you worried Laura is seeing someone on the side and will dump you?" I give him a sheepish grin. "That won't happen. Laura says I'm the only one for her. Besides, I've got my best bud looking out for me, don't I?" That's what I say, anyway. Deep down, a little bit of doubt has already started creeping in. Later that evening, I click into Justin's online photo album, only to find several intimate pictures of Laura Hartman with some other guy. Then I see the latest one. Justin is holding the camera up high. Laura, in a wedding dress, is snuggled up in Kelvin Hill's arms, looking absolutely blissful. All three of them are in the frame. And the caption reads, "Congrats to the newlyweds!" In the wedding group photo, I see all our mutual friends. Even my own little sister is in the picture. My heart feels completely hollow. So Laura has been busy getting married to another man today. It's a secret the whole world knows, and I'm the only clueless idiot who gets kept in the dark until the very end.