Tragic Love Short Stories & Bias Parallel World Novels

"Congratulations, Cynthia. You have completed ninety-nine tasks for Gregory Evans. Complete the final one, and you will successfully return to your original world and resurrect your beloved, Grayson Perez." The system's cold, mechanical voice echoed through my mind. My heart clenched violently, and a sudden mist clouded my eyes. Five years. I'd been waiting for this moment—five whole years. I don't belong here. In my world, I should have been walking down the aisle with the one who'd been by my side since childhood. But on the eve of our wedding, we were in a car crash—Grayson shielded me first. I walked away without a scratch. He died on the spot. I was drowning in despair, barely holding on, until I stumbled into binding with a system. It pulled me into this world and gave me a chance to bring Grayson back. The mission: do one hundred things for Gregory, New York's golden heir. Complete them all, and I'd go home to my world—and to him. Now. One last thing to do. And then it would all be over.

On 1st of June, I unexpectedly receive a phone call from my future daughter. With a smile on my face, I ask her, "Sweetheart, are Mommy and Daddy still happy and in love?" She proudly replies, "Of course! Mommy and Daddy have a great relationship. They never fight. He says she is the person he loves the most in his life!" My face flushes with embarrassment. I think to myself that Malcolm Gray really shouldn't be saying things like that in front of a child. Lost in happiness, I continue asking questions. "Then did you take my last name, Rosewood, or Daddy's last name, Gray?" She falls silent for two seconds, like she is confused. Then, she replies, "I have Daddy's last name, but my mommy's last name is Parker. Her name is Summer Parker." I freeze at those words. Summer Parker is the name of my best friend since childhood. Just yesterday, she and Malcolm end up in the hospital after getting into a physical fight because of an argument involving me.

After my miscarriage left me depressed, I stood on the rooftop the day I discovered my cheating husband was having an affair with my best friend. My best friend, Natalie Smith, regretted it so much that she slashed her own face with a knife before leaving the country. To make me feel safe, my husband, Steven Palmer, had a tracking device installed on himself. Every time he came home, he would hand me his phone. Even if he was only leaving for five minutes, he would always video-call me and tell me where he was. But when I became pregnant again and went to the hospital to start my prenatal records, I suddenly received a video call from myself ten years in the future. I stared at the woman on the screen. She looked painfully thin. Terrified, I asked, "Did I lose this baby too?" Her eyes instantly turned red. Then she suddenly flipped the camera around. Steven stood behind Natalie on the screen; his eyes filled with a love he could barely hide. "You forced me to become a good husband, and I did. But she will never be able to have children again. This is the punishment she deserves for what she did to you." "Steven, no!" Natalie slapped him across the face, but she couldn't stop crying. I sat there with a pale face as the woman on the screen laughed like she had lost her mind. "Go ask the nurse. Find out just how stupid you really are." As soon as she finished speaking, I heard the nurse say in confusion, "Ms. Schneider, our system says you're unmarried. You said the father of your baby is Steven Palmer, but he registered here last year. His spouse is listed as Natalie Smith."

Six years after I allegedly crossed into this world, Liam Locke slid a ring onto my middle finger and suddenly tightened his grip on my hand. "Keira, the whole parallel world story isn't real." He lowered his voice. "It was just an excuse so I could be with two people at once." I went still. He even winked at me, like this was all in good fun. "I never had a childhood sweetheart. Demi's the woman I cheated with. "The day you showed up at the hotel, I made that story up on the spot. You believed it. You actually thought you were the one who didn't belong here and waited for me for six years." My chest clenched tight as I stared at his face in shock. "Then why are you proposing now?" "Call it mercy. We've been together almost eight years." He smiled. "Once Demi goes overseas to study, I'll give you your old life back. What do you say?" I looked at the girl in the distance, the one who had spent the past six years living openly as Liam's real girlfriend. A heavy exhaustion settled over me. He didn't know this, but I had actually come from another world. A world without him.

On the day of their wedding, Caleb Graham unexpectedly finds himself on a call with Danielle Sutton—six years into the future. His eyes gleam with undisguised longing as he asks, "Danielle, do you remember? Today is our wedding day." Suddenly, a child's voice rings out from the other end of the line. "Mommy." Caleb is instantly overwhelmed with joy. He can hardly believe how much their child has grown. Tears well up in his eyes, and his voice trembles with anticipation. "Danielle, we have a happy future together, don't we?" All he can think about is the beautiful life they enjoy together as a family of three. It seems that all his hard work is finally paying off. After all, he is the one who has discovered Danielle in the slums all those years ago, secured projects for her, and invested substantial resources in cultivating her into one of the most influential rising stars among Kingsford City's elite. Yet, in the very next second, a man's voice cuts sharply into his ears. "Ellie, who are you talking to?" Ellie? Caleb's smile vanishes in an instant. Despite spending so many years together, he has never once called Danielle by that nickname. The familiar voice, paired with that uniquely intimate nickname, points to only one person—Yale Lawson, Danielle's longtime best friend!

The day I found out I was pregnant, I accidentally called myself three years in the future. Clutching my pregnancy test report, I asked excitedly, "Was Adrian happy when he found out he was going to be a dad? Is my baby a boy or a girl?" The woman on the other end of the phone answered in a hoarse voice, "The baby was never born. After Jane found out you were pregnant, she gave you abortion pills. Adam even signed the papers to have your uterus removed. And Adrian ignored you completely just to comfort that illegitimate daughter." My mind went blank, and my whole body started shaking. "That's impossible..." I couldn't believe that my beloved older brother, my best friend of 20 years, and the man I had loved for seven years had all betrayed me. A muffled sob came from the other end of the phone. "Adrian had already secretly married Sophia. Everyone knew about it, but they all kept it from you!" I collapsed into my chair. Then my phone received a string of numbers. "If you don't believe me, go see for yourself."

On my eighth birthday, I begged my mom to video call my dad, who was supposedly working late. The moment the call connected, a version of him from ten years in the future appeared on the screen. My mom held me close and smiled, asking him, "Ten years from now… our Lily has grown up. Was her coming-of-age ceremony a big celebration?" Dad replied coldly, "She kept trying to one-up Sarah's kid, so I sent her abroad. Too bad her luck ran out—her plane went down." My mom's face went pale. On the other end, my dad let out an icy laugh. "Claire, back then, you lied to me. You said if your 'plan' didn't work out, you'd die. I believed you. I gave up Sarah and her child to marry you." My mom's body started trembling. I reached out toward the screen. "Daddy, when are you coming home to celebrate my birthday with me?" Dad sighed and looked at her calmly. "The truth is, I wasn't working late that night. I was celebrating Sarah's daughter's birthday. Now you know everything. What you do next is up to you." Suddenly, a cold robotic voice echoed in my ear: [Host, do you choose to abandon the original world and stay here forever?] I wiped the tears off my mom's face and, barely understanding what was happening, said, "Mommy, does that mean Daddy doesn't want us anymore? Then let's not want him either. Okay?"

Renee Fuller, my wife, suddenly stops talking about divorce after her 18th failed attempt. She has failed every attempt before this, after all. I catch them at a hotel and cover the company lobby with photos of her in bed with Edward Chester, her male assistant. I beat Edward up so badly at the press conference that he suffers a concussion and develops PTSD. Renee has every reason to hate me, but even so, she drops the subject of divorce completely. She is home every day right on schedule and hands over her phone. She updates me on her whereabouts every hour and even keeps a 24-hour video call running when she travels for work. I still can't put my mind at ease, though. I keep pestering her day after day, demanding to know why she no longer wants to divorce me. Renee asks me, "Haven't I done enough?" It is enough—almost too good to be true. Renee finally tells me the truth after catching me following her again, her eyes filled with exhaustion. "I received a call from myself ten years in the future, and she says I'd regret getting a divorce." I am stunned. "You actually believed that?" Renee says, "She said you burned Edward alive."

After graduation, just before I was supposed to start working at my boyfriend's company, I got a phone call from myself twelve years in the future. I could barely get the question out fast enough. "Well? Did my genius boyfriend's startup make it?" My future self laughed softly. "It did. His company goes public when he's thirty-two, and by thirty-five, his net worth is over ten billion." I was ecstatic. "So I make it big in the industry right alongside him, right?" There was a long silence on the other end. "You have two kids, and at the company, you're in charge of... ordering takeout, filing reimbursements, hiring people, and putting together reports." I froze. Her words suddenly came faster. "So listen to me. Take a different job. "Don't work for him and spend your time doing whatever needs doing. Take the development job at that major tech company that offered you a role. "Three years from now, the Director of Engineering gets fired for bribery. You'll have a shot at taking his place, with an annual salary of five million. "Once you get that first year's salary, don't buy a car. Buy two small apartments in Briarport's old district. Two years later, that area will be redeveloped to support a new free trade zone. The relocation compensation will be enough for you to start your own company without taking out a loan." I hurried to ask, "What kind of company?" "AI." She told me about all the changes the industry would go through over the next twelve years, then carefully walked me through several crucial turning points I needed to remember. There were only ten seconds left on the call. I stopped her before she could hang up. "One last question." "Xenia Wells, is your dream still alive?"

The tenth year since I accidentally landed in modern-day America, and the system finally noticed me—a glitch in its timeline. It told me that in three days, I'd be sent back to where I truly belonged. Back to London. Back to my era. And I—I used to be one of the most powerful men in the entire British Empire. Alexander William Windsor. First in line to the British throne. The system gave me seventy-two hours. A countdown to say goodbye to this century. Day one, my fiancée Evelyn told me our wedding had to be called off. Because Ryan—the boy she'd grown up with—had been diagnosed with a terminal illness. Day two, Evelyn brought Ryan home. To our home. She said he had nowhere else to go. Asked if he could stay. Just for a while. Day three, Evelyn told me she was taking Ryan to Italy. To clear his head. ...That was supposed to be our honeymoon. No one noticed the numbers on my wrist, ticking down. Ten years of being in the wrong place. Time to end it. This time—I'm not staying for anyone.

In my fourth year trapped inside this oceanfront villa, a notification suddenly popped up on my old tablet. A memo had synced from the cloud. The title was “The Choice I Made at Eighteen.” It was a journal entry I’d saved to the cloud ten years ago, back when I was still in high school. In it, my younger self had asked hopefully: “Is it worth giving up the chance to train in Paris so I can stay and help Michael Grant build his company?” Every word showed just how hopelessly devoted I’d been to him. I stared at the screen for a long time before slowly lowering my gaze. My eyes fell on my feet. They’d been shattered beyond repair, leaving them permanently twisted and deformed. Just an hour ago, Michael had brought his twenty-year-old intern, Chloe Spencer, into our marital bed. Right in front of me, he’d had sex with her. Chloe had even deliberately left her pregnancy test on the floor for me to find. A bitter smile twisted my lips, uglier than tears. Then I jabbed at the screen, typing a reply beneath the memo. “Run. Go to Paris while you still can, before he breaks your legs!”