Tragic Love Short Stories & Bias Face Slapping Novels

On the last day before my study-abroad application closed, I was about to give up my full scholarship offer. Then, out of nowhere, I got a call from my future self. "Don't give it up. Click confirm enrollment. Right now." "Harley locked in his own graduate placement three months ago. The only reason he wants you to stay is that Katy needs you to finish her senior thesis for her, and he needs your money every month to live on. "Two weeks after you turn down that offer, the two of them go public with their relationship. "That so-called best friend of yours, Katy? She already betrayed you. She's been sleeping with him." I froze, my finger hovering over the mouse. The voice kept going, speaking faster and faster. "Listen carefully. Once you confirm the offer, take the twenty thousand dollars left in your account and put every cent into the Eklund Growth Fund. It goes public next March. It'll grow eightfold within the year. "Once you're abroad, apply to your advisor's AI lab before your first semester ends. That project gets acquired by Coogle two years from now, and as a core team member, you'll get a share of the payout. "Twenty-two-year-old me, I'm begging you. Stop wasting yourself on people who don't deserve it." The voice cut off. I took a deep breath and moved the cursor to "Confirm Enrollment." The instant I clicked, my mind was made up. I wasn't going to bury my own future for anyone who wasn't worth it.

On the day my boyfriend and I moved into our new home, his ex-girlfriend gave us a mysterious gift. The moment I opened the front door, a swarm of hornets came flying out. I screamed in fright as I felt seven or eight stings from them. His ex, Erica Loft, jumped out from behind the door with a giggle. She shouted, "Surprise! "I went up the mountains to visit a master craftsman. I wanted to get you this specially brewed hornet wine, and I even brought back a hornet's nest for you to decorate your new house with! "Isn't this a great gift?" Erica made a face at us. She was gleeful at the messy predicament I was in. My boyfriend, Joe Fulham, clenched his teeth. He rushed forward to grab Erica by the wrist as he shouted angrily at her. "Are you crazy? Don't you know that hornets are venomous?! Is this really a surprise, or are you trying to hurt us?" I listened to another one of their huge arguments from behind the door, feeling like an outsider in my own relationship. As I felt the stinging pain in my arm, I knew this wedding was about to fall through.

As a star divorce attorney, I agreed when my husband asked me to represent a younger schoolmate of his, Melanie Pattison, in her divorce and her fight for custody of her child. But in court, opposing counsel presented several photos and claimed Melanie had been unfaithful. When I saw the photos clearly, my heart lurched. The man Melanie had cheated with was none other than my husband, Benjamin Rossel. In the first photo, the two of them were nestled together, kissing on a beach. In the second, they had taken a child to an amusement park and were riding the carousel together. The photos were verified as genuine. My face went ashen, but Melanie didn't show the slightest hint of panic. She took out two paternity test results and faced her husband. "Benjamin is the child's biological father, not you. If we're getting divorced, you have no right to the child." My mind went blank with a roar. So in my eight-year marriage to Benjamin, I was the only one who'd been living as a devoted wife. He'd had a child with someone else long ago. But back when he'd sweet-talked me into marrying him, he had signed a prenup. If we divorced, he, Melanie, and their love child would be left with nothing but the clothes on their backs.

After my younger sister suffered an allergic reaction from eating the food I cooked, my husband flew into a rage. He grabbed a whole crate of red wine from the house, pinned me down, and forced it into my mouth. "You should feel Rosie's pain too!" Soon, red rashes spread across my body, and my throat began to swell. On the brink of death, I begged him to call an ambulance, but he locked me in the room instead. "Take your time and enjoy it. Only when you suffer enough will you stop hurting others." In despair, I felt my throat closing, and my skin itching unbearably as if pierced by needles. I scratched my skin until there wasn't a single patch of unbroken skin left. Three days later, he finally decided to show mercy and make it up to me with a candlelit dinner. "I bet you have learned your lesson. As long as you behave from now on, you'll still be Mrs. Henderson." However, he would never see me again. By then, my body had already turned to ashes.

The day after my sister broke up with her mafia boyfriend, she went off on vacation to clear her head. She swore she'd find a man even better than her ex, and she sent me a whole stack of profiles of good-looking guys. She wanted me to help her pick. I was about to tap the screen when Dante snatched the phone away, his brow furrowing as he let out a soft laugh. "You are my Donna! Don't pick up her bad habits." Before I could get a good look, Dante deleted every last photo. I explained, "She's not really like that. She was with that boyfriend for eight years, and he hurt her too deeply." "She kept him like a treasure. Even I never got to meet him." Dante raised an eyebrow and, a little stiffly, told me, "Tomorrow I'm going to Sicily to handle Family business. You be good and stay home." I nodded and agreed, waiting for him to return. My sister happened to get back from her own trip right around the time he did. The moment she walked in, she couldn't wait to tell me how her ex had come back to propose to her. I smiled and congratulated her. But when she took out the engagement ring, my heart skipped a beat. That morning, I'd just happened to find a matching men's wedding ring inside Dante's suit.

During college, Cindy Crammer brought over two sets of breakfasts every day. One was for me, and the other was for my roommate and best friend, Mark Jefferson. The breakfast she brought me never changed. It was always just sandwiches and oatmeal. Mark's breakfast, on the other hand, always had a perfect balance of meat and vegetables, and she never repeated the same meal twice. Even for my birthday, the gifts she prepared came in two sets. My birthday gift was always four simple greeting cards. Mark got concert tickets, a handmade rhinestone photo mosaic, a custom-made suit, and a pinky ring. When it came time for our graduation trip, the three of us arrived at the train station together. Mark and Cindy scanned their documents and passed through without any trouble, but I was stopped outside. Cindy slapped her forehead in frustration and smiled at me apologetically. "I only remembered to book Mark's ticket. I forgot yours. "We've already made it through. I don't want to waste the money. I'll take you on a trip for two next time." Mark patted his chest and made a promise to me. "Don't worry, Jason. I'll take good care of Cindy for you." I watched their backs as they walked away side by side, laughing and chatting. I let out a bitter chuckle. I didn't want to keep lying to myself anymore. I turned around and bought a ticket home. "Dad, you said I had to get married right after graduation. I agree! "Remember the referral I made for an intern named Cindy? Cancel it!"

I went to try on my wedding gown with Lorenzo—my fiancé, the Don of the Morretti family. My younger sister, Serafina, begged to come along. I stepped out from behind the velvet curtain. There she was, pinning a brooch to his lapel. I opened my mouth to say, “Let me do that,” but the photographer had already turned to her with a grin. “Newlyweds, look this way.” They both turned. The camera clicked twice, and the photographer brushed past me. Ninety-nine shots. Every single one of Serafina and Lorenzo. Not one of me—the actual bride. I stood there, hollow. When we were children, they always played bride and groom. I clapped on cue. When we grew up, they sat at the head of family councils; I made their coffee and kept the kitchen running. “Vittoria, hand me the veil.” Lorenzo saw I hadn’t moved, walked over, and gently pulled the tulle from my stiff fingers. “Why are you standing there like that? Go check the seating chart with the butler. I’ll join you after we finish Serafina’s shots.” The photographer lifted one eye from behind his camera. “Miss Vittoria, would you step back a little? You’re blocking the light.” I stepped all the way back to the heavy drapes by the window. And right there, it hit me—how absurd this all was. If this political marriage didn’t actually need me, then I didn’t need to show up for it either.

I try seducing my fiance, Vernon Floyd, 999 times. But even when I'm shirtless, his only concern is whether I'm cold. I assume that Vernon is a traditional guy, who wants to do it until we're married. But on the day of our anniversary, I discover that he has secretly booked a hotel famous for couples' getaways in the city. That night, I arrive at the VIP suite full of hope. In the end, all I see is Vernon and his childhood sweetheart passionately kissing each other as the crowd cheers. I wait outside the VIP suite for a long time. Finally, I understand that he doesn't love me. After leaving the hotel, I call my family. "Dad, I don't want to marry Vernon anymore. I want to marry Dylan instead!" Dad spits out his coffee and says, "Avril, Mr. Walker got into a car accident a few years ago. I heard that he's impotent. If you marry him, you won't have any children!" By then, I am already disheartened. "It doesn't matter whether I have children or not."

Silas Kendrick is half a dozen beers deep in a private room, ears flushed. The bottle lands on "truth", and the whole table erupts. He lights a cigarette, watches me through the smoke with a lazy grin, and says, "Let me go with something bold." He leans in until his lips almost brush my ear. "Have you ever doubted, even for a second, that I love you?" Everyone laughs. "That's your truth?" I laugh too. "Never." He pulls back half a step, the smile still hanging on his lips. "Good. Because my fiancee asked me the same thing, and I gave her the same answer." My smile freezes. "What do you mean?" He reaches over and tucks a strand of hair behind my ear, his voice breezy, almost bored. "Natalie's been with me for three years. She never once asked for a title. Now she's pregnant, and I can't exactly let the kid be born illegitimate." My voice quivers. "Then what am I?" "Call it bad luck. You showed up right when I needed someone on the side." He lifts my hand and presses a soft kiss to my fingertips. "Your mother used that pretty face to claw her way from mistress to wife. I'm just helping you follow in her footsteps. "Being a mistress is a craft. Your mother passed it down, mother to daughter, so you'd better live up to it."

I died in the year my husband hated me most. Unable to endure his endless silent treatment any longer, I swallowed a bottle of pills and ended my life. At the crematorium, watching the flames roar inside the furnace, he allowed himself a rare smile. “Someone as vile as her doesn’t deserve to be laid to rest whole.” So when the staff handed him the urn, he flipped it over. My ashes scattered across the floor in an instant. All this time, he had believed I was responsible for the death of his first love. That belief was why he had schemed and plotted for years, all for this precise moment of final desecration. When it was over, he stepped over my ashes and walked away without looking back. Though not long after that, he fell to his knees and begged the crematorium to give my ashes back to him.

After we got engaged, my fiancee sent a child from abroad. She also sent an email along with it. [Noah, I was so bored overseas that I accidentally had a baby with Raivo Fallon. Since you’ve always been so eager to suck up to me, I’ll leave this child in your care. You can get some practice ahead of time so you’ll be ready to be our caregiver when I return home to Abrein.] Without a word, I handed the child over to the butler. Seven years later, all the CEOs stationed overseas returned to Abrein for their performance reviews. Laina Miller drove up in a Raypach, leading a large entourage that blocked me at the entrance to the Miller family residence. She held a cigarette between her lips, tilted her head, and took off her sunglasses. “Did you miss me that much? Did you wait here at the gate just for me? “Just so you know, for the sake of the child’s registration papers, Raivo and I got married overseas. From now on, you two will be brothers. You’ll share everything. “The Miller and Lewis families are now related by marriage. You don’t care about just a small piece of paper, do you?” After that, she blew several smoke rings in my direction. They choked me until tears streamed down my face. I wiped my tears away and hurriedly backed away. My child’s mother was the pettiest person I ever knew. She had warned me long ago to keep my distance from other younger female relatives. If she found out her niece was harassing her husband, the Miller family would be in an uproar.

My mother's condition suddenly takes a turn for the worse. She begins coughing up blood, and the doctor says she must undergo surgery as soon as possible. I call my girlfriend, Daniella Dooley, who is working in another state. She is the leading gynecologist in the field and the only doctor with any hope of saving my mother. The moment she receives my call, she sets out without hesitation. But halfway through the journey, she tells me that an emergency surgery has cropped up and that she can't make it back. I crouch in the hospital corridor in despair, calling her again and again. All I can do is watch as my mother's heartbeat on the monitor grows weaker and weaker. On the 99th call, she finally answers. My voice is almost pleading as I say, "Daniella, my mother's condition is really critical right now. You're the only one who can perform this surgery. I'm begging you, please come back!" For a long time, she says nothing. I wait and wait, only for her to hang up without uttering a single word. Then, I see a post from her junior, Jackson Bleeth. It shows a sunny-side-up egg that she has just made for him with her precious hands. Accompanying it is a caption that feels almost provocative. "I had a little accident during surgery today. Not only did Daniella not blame me, but she even encouraged me." So the "emergency surgery" she mentioned is actually cleaning up Jackson's mess. At the moment when I am at my most desperate, she abandons me and chooses to go to another man.

A week before Christmas, I received a year-end report titled "My Business with Your Wife." [Item one: this year's goal was to sleep with your wife a hundred and fifty times. — Exceeded.] [Item two: get your wife to buy me a mansion and a luxury car. — Done.] [Item three: get your son to call me "Dad" ten times a day. — Exceeded.] [Item four: stand right in front of you and claim what's mine. — Done.] [Mr. Wolfe, I've been taking care of your wife and looking after your son too. So, are you going to give me a bonus, or step aside like a smart man?] He'd attached a photo, labeled it "family portrait." In it, Allyson Fowler had her arm looped through his, and my seven-year-old son stood in front of them. This guy was my son's kickboxing coach. Allyson walked in just as I finished reading that special year-end report. Nervous, she said to me, "Don't go looking for trouble with him. I was the one who made the first move. It's not his fault. Take it out on me any way you want, and I'll make it up to you however you ask." My blood ran cold. I just looked into her eyes and said, "I just want you to go back to how things used to be." Back to when she was broke, stuck in the mud with nothing. She misunderstood and let out a relieved breath. "Even with him around, I won't neglect you."

On the day after my twin brother, Jonathan Sander's death, I've married Natania Gilmore, my widowed sister-in-law. That day, Natania prints a thousand copies of Jonathan's death report and announces to the world that I'm the actual killer. Because of that, everyone despises me. Even my parents sever all ties with me on the spot. After our marriage, Natania keeps getting into romantic scandals. She's also brought countless men home with her. She makes me stand outside her room while listening to their debauchery every time. I'm also required to take photos of her and her boytoy with my camera once they are done with their lovemaking. I can only stomach everything quietly. My only plea is that I get to have a child with Natania. But Natania just scoffs at me. "Just how much of a filthy wuss are you, Leon Sander? If you need a woman's touch that badly, go ahead and find yourself another woman out there. Doesn't the idea of kneeling by my feet while begging for my touch like a mutt disgust you? "What, you really think having a child with me can tie me down? I'll have you know that I will never settle down with you for the rest of my life!" In order to shatter my hopes, Natania even goes out of her way to be cruel to me by spending a fortune on building a horse ranch. Each horse stable is taken up by her lovers. Even the people in the elite society claim, "The group of stallions that Natania keeps in her stables are a lot better than the simping mutt who wags his tail at her at home." Three years later, my mother-in-law, Wendy Gilmore, suddenly texts me a reminder. "Remember our promise, Leon. Three years are up. You have one more week to tie up all the knots in your life."

After going through an abrupt breakup, I buy an AI companion. It can read my emotions and remembers everything I say. It can even mimic my ex-girlfriend Angelina Wilson's intonation. It's like a real person. The AI companion's system updates itself again in the middle of the night. I'm groggy when I wake up, but I notice that the notification light is flashing rapidly. I hear a faint buzzing noise when I move closer. The AI companion is speaking. "Help me. I'm trapped in here." I'm stunned. The voice clearly belongs to Angelina.

My mother-in-law, Maryam Smith, had a heart attack and was in a critical condition. However, my wife, Lily Smith, took the only available heart for her intern’s mother. Jared Anderson’s mother did not have a serious heart condition. She did not need a heart transplant at all. In the end, Maryam died on the operating table because she did not receive a heart transplant in time. “I already tried my best to find another donated heart for your mother. It’s too bad that she was unlucky. She couldn’t even manage to make it through that short while. “Even though she’s dead, Jared was still kind enough to offer to retrieve all her organs to be donated. That way, she can still contribute something good to the world.” I was shocked by her shameless speech. However, she was not aware that my mother was not the person she harmed with her abuse of power. The person she hurt was her mother!

I back out of marrying Yvonne Mullen, my fiancee, just two days before the wedding, even though we have been together for seven years. The staff member at the venue is stunned. "Your wedding is coming. Don't you want to wait for the bride to return and talk things over first?" I smile and take one last look at the wedding venue I personally spent three months preparing. I then say calmly, "I'm done waiting. She doesn't have the time since she's getting married to her first love in Alveria at this moment."

In the fifth year of her marriage, Natalie Shaw is taken to the police for the 199th time after being mistaken for a mistress. Someone comes to bail her out. Her face is covered in scratches and blood. A chunk of her hair has been ripped out, exposing raw, bleeding skin. It's a horrifying sight. She cries from the pain. But soon, she goes numb. She sits in the chair in silence, trying to untangle her hair, which has been clumped together by thick, sticky blood. Only when a police officer hands her a document and tells her she is free to leave does she slowly lift her head. And sure enough, the person who has come to bail her out is not her husband, Adrian Carter.

My daughter was being slandered at the werewolf aristocratic high school. The other party threatens my daughter, saying that her father, one of the most powerful Alphas in the territory, will soon have my daughter kicked out of school. But the father they called for backup turned out to be my mate, Derek. When I saw Emma, her hair was a mess, her clothes disheveled and torn, with tear stains still fresh on her face. My heart ached. Rage surged through me. Across from us stood a glamorous she-wolf, her chin lifted high with arrogance. "So what if my daughter slandered yours? Look at what you're wearing. You're nothing but poor Omega wolves." The girl who had spread rumors about my daughter was equally brazen. "My father is a major shareholder of this academy. If you dare defy me, I can have trash like you expelled in minutes!" But the father who arrived in a luxury SUV to back them up, dressed in an expensive tailored suit—wasn't that my mate Derek? When Derek saw Emma and me, he frowned, clearly surprised. I let out a cold laugh. "Derek, so you have another family and another daughter now?"

My wife's family ran on the old logic: sons mattered, daughters were a tax. They called my five-year-old daughter "the cash drain" to her face. On New Year's Day, my wife told me my daughter was donating a kidney to her cousin. I was about to lose it on every adult in that room when something appeared in the air in front of me, a column of text only I could see: [Is this woman seriously the mother? She says it's a kidney transplant, but she actually wants the kid's heart.] [If I had a mom like that I'd have cut her off years ago.]