เรื่องสั้นและนิยายในฉาก Bias Tragic Love

When the traitor opened fire, Jules McKenna threw herself between me and the bullet. She grabbed the shooter, dragged him off the pier with her, and the two of them went down together. Neither one came back up. The day her body was pulled from the water, I knelt until the gravel bit into my knees. I swore that whoever was behind it would pay in blood. Three years later, I hung the heads of the ten men left from that syndicate outside my front gate, a warning to anyone who might get ideas. People respected me. They feared me. They called me the ruthless tyrant of Hallahan City, a man who'd kill without blinking. On the anniversary of Jules's death, I bought myself a bottle of poison and carried it down to the pier where she'd died. I was about to drink it when a wedding boat pulled in. I spotted my own men climbing aboard, so I followed, quiet and unseen. I never expected what I'd find. Standing on the deck in a bride's gown was Jules, my fiancée I'd believed dead for years, and beside her was Nicolas Bernstein, the one sworn brother I cared for the most. The two of them were locked in a deep kiss while everyone around them cheered. I froze where I stood. Carter Robinson, who'd followed me for twelve years, spotted me first, and the color drained from his face. "Boss... don't do anything rash. Jules is pregnant." Travis Kress, who'd watched me grow up since I was a boy, stepped in front of Nicolas to talk me down. "Max, I'm the one who called Jules and Nicolas back. It's because you're so controlling that they had to fake their deaths just to get away from you. "You're the head of the harbor now. For my sake, just let them have this." I looked at my own men, every one of them standing between me and the two people on that deck, and I said nothing. A second later, I put a bullet through the engine. The boat went dead in the water. "Anyone who betrays me only gets one way out. Jump into the sea, or die by my hand. Who wants to go first?"

Mandy York, my girlfriend, was practically a migratory bird that always flew away during summer. Every year, during July and August, which were the hottest months of the year, she would fly off and disappear from the face of the earth. She said that it was because her company gave her a special project abroad that required absolute secrecy from her. She was also not to contact anyone during that period of time. Even when I got into a car accident last year and lay in the ICU for two months, she never called to ask about me. Plenty of times, I had comforted myself and endured the harsh summer alone. One day, I accidentally saw the social media account of a friend of mine living abroad. It was his alternate account. Every year, during July and August, this alternate account would get really active. It would be full of videos and photos about his daily life with his daughter and a “mother” who always had her face hidden with stickers. In the videos, the mother accompanied the daughter to watch fireworks at Disneyland and pick up shells at the beach. Sometimes, I could see the side of her face. There was a mole at the corner of her eyes. I could even see a clear scar at the back of her hand. They were so familiar to me that my blood ran cold. It was Mandy. During the summer holidays, she would vanish for sixty days, and this had lasted for five years. So, she had never been flying off to work. She had gone to her other family. I sat stupefied on the couch and stared at the blinding sun outside. Suddenly, this year’s upcoming summer did not feel so difficult any longer. I picked up my phone and agreed to the marriage my family had arranged for me. Since Mandy refused to stay with me during summer, I was not going to waste my time on her.

To avoid being the topic of gossip, I could only use disposable items every time I went to my girlfriend, Erica Livingston's, house. She made me use disposable slippers in her house, and disposable utensils when we had our meals. Even when I stayed the night, she prepared disposable sheets for me. "If someone saw any of your things at my house, I wouldn't know how to explain it," she would tell me every time. "I'll get you everything you deserve once we go public." I waited three years for that to happen, and I had to enter her house every time as if I was a guest. This continued until one day, when she held a birthday party for her assistant, Ryan Strobe, at her house. When I opened the door, I saw Ryan taking out their matching house slippers from the shoe cabinet in her house. Erica's best friends arrived next and wore all of the other disposable house slippers available at her house. I was left standing by myself at the door. "You can come in barefoot. It's not cold in the summer," Erica said to me without looking up. It felt like she was calling out to a stranger to enter her house. I stared at the table, full of food, from afar, with utensils printed with Ryan's favorite anime character. In the far corner was a pair of cheap, disposable utensils that belonged to me, and I suddenly felt like everything I had with her was disposable as well. It was time that this love that was buried deep in secret should also be disposable to me, and I should throw it away now that I was done with it.

My girlfriend, Eliana Hodson, and my so-called best friend, Austin Brock, had this thing for bets. And somehow, I was always the joke. They'd bet on how long I'd wait for them, which puddle I'd slip in when it rained, even whether the crazy-hot pepper Austin snuck into my food would make my nose run. Then Austin went overseas. Eliana and I got married, and I figured their stupid little game was finally over. Yeah. Nope. One night, I was working at a fancy lounge when I walked in on a group playing a betting game called Time Bomb. I set down their drinks just as I heard Eliana. "I lost." Her friends started yelling. "A bet's a bet! Pick a guy and dance with him!" Then Eliana—my wife, who had supposedly been paralyzed for three years—stood up and went straight to Austin. They spun across the dance floor as everyone clapped. One friend laughed. "Eliana, you're seriously messed up. Fake marriage, fake paralysis—you've kept Rafael as our entertainment for three years." Eliana laced her fingers with Austin's. "I lost the bet. Had to do it." Austin doubled over laughing. "We bet on whether Rafael would spend six years taking care of her. Eliana said no. I said yes. "Guess who's winning? "All it took was one fake marriage certificate. Even when Eliana pretended she couldn't walk, Rafael bought the whole thing. Dude carried her up and down the stairs for three years! "I know Rafael way better than she does. I'm gonna win." I stood in the shadows and smiled. 'So the bets never stopped. 'Fine. 'I'm done being part of their stupid game.'

On my wedding day, the car drops me off at the banquet hall's back service entrance. I'm the groom, yet they send me through the trash passage. Sabina York opens my door and orders me around like she always does. "You'll go in through the back, and I'll take Caleb through the front. We can't let our coworkers see us together." Before I can even respond, she drives away with Caleb Yeoman. I'm left standing alone in the filthy water. It's the 99th time she abandons me to keep people from talking. For eight years, we've kept our relationship under wraps. She says dating a coworker will hurt my reputation, so she uses her best friend Caleb as a cover for us at every turn. During company trips, Caleb gets the passenger seat beside her. Instead, I spend ten hours on a bus just to catch up with them on the way home. When our project succeeds, she promotes Caleb, who is my teammate. She then makes me, the most senior person on the team, report to him. Even our wedding invitation has Caleb's name on it. After eight years together, I still have no place in her life that she's willing to acknowledge. I keep telling myself she does all of this for my sake. I race through the trash passage, covered in filth, and make it inside with five minutes to spare. But Sabina is already walking down the aisle with Caleb, taking the place that should be mine. They exchange their vows at the same time, and the room erupts in cheers. "My favorite couple is finally married!" In that very moment, everything becomes clear. After eight years, I finally realize I'm the only person she ever wants to keep her distance from. So I give her exactly what she wants and remove myself from this blatant display of favoritism for good. The music starts up again, and the officiant announces the ring exchange. Sabina spots me and awkwardly turns toward me, holding out the ring. I just smile and pull my hand away when she secretly reaches for it. "You don't have to hide anymore. Go ahead and get married."

Jewel Rivers hated nothing more than having to turn back. If she left something behind, she would move on without it. If she took a wrong turn, she kept going. She said, "Turning back is a waste of time. The only way is forward." She even drove right past me without stopping one night after I had worked late. I texted her, "I just saw your car drive by. Can you turn around and pick me up?" Three minutes later, she replied, "Rules are rules. I don't turn back. Take a cab home yourself." - The next day was our eighth anniversary. We had planned to go to the nearby theme park together. Twenty minutes after we set out, my close friend, Jason Smith, sent a message in the group chat the three of us shared: [Jewel, you left your hair clip on my couch when you drove me home last night!] I froze for a moment. "You picked him up from work last night?" "It was on the way," she said casually. Jason sent another voice message, his tone cheerful. "Jewel, Beau, you two are going to the theme park today, right? I want to go, too. Can we all go together?" We were already halfway there, and I was about to tell Jason to take a cab and meet us at the entrance. Before I could, Jewel replied, "Sure. I'll come pick you up." My throat tightened. "Didn't you say you never turned back?" She turned her car around without hesitation. "Rules aren't set in stone. We can adapt." When we reached Jason's apartment building, I got out and gave him the front passenger seat. "You two have fun. I'm not going. Jewel, I'll follow your example for once. I'm not turning back either." I had walked this road for eight years, and I had no intention of taking a single step back.

Before the birthday party even began, Jeannie Collins cast her phone screen onto the large display in the private room. Then she started an anonymous poll in the group chat she shared with all our mutual friends. The question was simple: [Should I stay with my boyfriend to cut the birthday cake tonight, or go with my childhood friend to his movie premiere?] Thirty seconds. The countdown began. The numbers kept climbing. [Childhood friend: 17 votes.] [Boyfriend: 1 vote.] Everyone assumed that one vote was mine. Jeannie leaned back against the couch, glanced at the results, and smiled. "Majority rules." Marvin Snyder immediately slipped the movie tickets into her hand. "Looks like everyone thinks I need you more." I stood in front of the birthday cake, which was still untouched, while wearing my favorite white shirt. Someone in the room whistled. "Don't be a sore loser." Fair enough. This kind of voting had been going on for three years. After every argument, a poll would decide who should apologize first. Whenever a party ended, another poll would decide who she drove home first. Even when I asked her if she loved me, she would toss the question into the group chat. "Let's see what everyone thinks." I used to believe that if I could just win once, she would finally choose me without hesitation. However, I had never won. Not once. Tonight was no different. Jeannie stood and reached for her coat. As she passed me, she casually pinched my ear. "Be good. I'll make it up to you when I get back." I stared at the poll results glowing on the screen, then turned off my phone. Without a word, I pushed the cake knife toward her. "There's no need." I looked at her. "I'm abstaining."

On the day of our graduation trip, my girlfriend suddenly went silent for half an hour. I didn't hear from her until just before I went through security. "Nicholas, you go ahead and board. Blake and I got upgraded to first class at the last minute. You know his back isn't great. He'll be uncomfortable in economy." Blake Walker was my younger brother in name, and every trip was the same. Whether we flew or took the train, Tiffany Spencer always made sure he got a first-class or business-class seat, while I was left squeezed into economy or a regular train seat. Even our carefully planned trip to the northern coast had been changed to a beach resort in the south simply because Blake casually mentioned that he liked the ocean. After two hours in economy, my back was aching badly, so I finally texted Tiffany. [I want to sit with you two.] Her reply was cold. Tiffany: [We'll be there in another hour. First class is expensive. Don't waste the money.] When we landed, the two of them were nowhere to be found. Tiffany explained over the phone. "Blake's hungry. I'm going to grab something to eat with him first. Come over once you've gotten everything sorted out." Then she told me to book the return flights. "Book our return flights. Two first-class tickets and one economy ticket. Don't forget." I tightened my grip on my phone and quietly said, "Okay." Then I bought three tickets. Two first-class tickets were bound for Kensford, while the third was bound for Aldmere, Loravia.

After five years together, Abby Young finally said she was ready to take me home to meet her parents. However, on the day of the visit, she asked my friend Gene Burke to pretend to be her boyfriend and told me to tag along for the free meal. “Abby, I’m your boyfriend! You’re supposed to introduce me to your parents today!” She did not even look up. “Gene just went through a breakup last month. He wants to know what it feels like to meet a girlfriend’s parents, so let him have this one.” I refused to move. Gene sighed. “Forget it. I was only joking. You two should go.” He started to get out of the car, but Abby held him back. “Stay where you are. You’re not going anywhere.” Then, she pulled me into the car and said to me in a persuasive tone, “Tony, it’s only one dinner. I’ll explain everything to my parents after this. Just this once.” Left with no real choice, I reluctantly agreed. When we arrived at her parents’ house, Mr. Young’s face lit up the moment he saw Gene. “Gene, you’re here! Come in! We’ve been looking forward to seeing you. I even made that dessert you love!” Abby went inside with a smile, leaving me alone on the doorstep as though I did not belong there. I turned to her. “How do your parents know Gene?” Abby rubbed her nose, looking guilty. “Actually, this is the third time I’ve brought him home. I was worried about him after his breakup, so I’ve been passing him off as my boyfriend whenever we visit my parents.” I laughed in disbelief. I threw everything I was holding at her feet and turned to leave. “You can enjoy your little family dinner without me.”

Hallie Shaw lived her life judging everyone with a rigid scorecard. When we were dating, she used to say that any person or event scoring below ninety points wasn't worth a second of her time. After marriage, every single thing I did was evaluated. On our wedding anniversary, I prepared a full spread of her favorite dishes. She took one bite and said, "Eighty-nine points." Then she set down her utensils and left to share a meal with Miles, who allegedly had a poor appetite. For the company's anniversary party, I tried on twenty-seven suits, only for her to glance at me and say, "Eighty-eight points. Not suitable to bring along." That very night, she walked into the celebration with Miles, who was wearing nothing more than a simple white shirt. To earn that perfect score, I quit my dream job, earned seven professional certifications, and learned four foreign languages. Yet no matter how hard I tried, my score remained forever stuck at eighty-nine. Meanwhile, Miles didn't have to lift a finger. Just by standing there, he was automatically a perfect hundred. I asked her once, "What does it actually take to get a ninety?" She glanced over at Miles and offered no answer. In that moment, a sudden, bitter laugh escaped my lips. Her scoring criteria had only ever had one rule from start to finish, and it wasn't me. I pulled off my wedding ring and dropped it straight into the wine glass in front of her. "Hallie, this time, I'm the one giving out the scores. Your loyalty: zero points. Your marriage: zero points. And as a person, you fail."

The day I got laid off, I called my girlfriend, Juliet Sidwell. No answer. I rode my e-scooter home through the rain and stumbled into my apartment soaked, a cardboard box in my arms. The place was packed. Family. Friends. Relatives. And right in the middle of it all stood Juliet and my friend Paul Bartel, raising their glasses to my parents. The second I walked in, the whole room went silent. My box hit the floor. Everything spilled everywhere. Juliet walked over, calm as ever. "Why are you here?" I just stared at her. "What the hell is going on?" Something flickered in her eyes. "Paul and I got legally married last year. The wedding's today." My ears rang. Then I slapped her. Hard. "Get out! Both of you! This is my home! Everybody, get out!" One of my friends shoved me back. Everyone crowded around Juliet and Paul, glaring at me. "You hit her!" "Exactly! We kept it from you because we knew you'd lose it. Juliet would've dumped you ages ago otherwise!" Then my parents stepped in. They looked at me like I'd ruined everything. "This isn't your apartment anymore. We gave it to Paul." "It's their wedding day. Stop causing a scene and go to your room." Just like that, my whole body went cold.

My wife, Claire, wanted our son to give up a kidney to save her childhood sweetheart's daughter. I refused. I fought her so hard that I thought she'd finally let it go. Then our son vanished, and Claire stopped answering my calls. I went to the hospital to find her. There, I learned that the little girl had finally found a donor. Claire would perform the transplant herself. She'd promised to keep her safe. Then I saw the name listed under deceased organ donor. It was my son's.

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.

Everyone in our circle knew me as Violet Gilman's devoted lapdog of a boyfriend. If she told me to jump into a river, I jumped. If she wanted me kneeling in the rain all night, I knelt through the night. I was so obedient that when she kept a boy toy on the side, I'd even volunteer to bring him condoms. People in our circle praised her for raising such a good lapdog, and sneered at me, certain I'd stoop to anything just to marry into money. But when she brought up marriage herself at a family dinner, I shook my head and turned her down. "I've already done everything there is to do. Marriage, though? That, we can skip."

My fiancée and my best friend were the top partners at a multi-million-dollar law firm, while I was just the guy handling the administrative work. In the courtroom, they were in perfect sync, trading fierce legal arguments and sharing an effortless dynamic. In their personal lives, they casually flirted through law jokes that only the two of them understood. I could never get a word in, edge-wise. Every time they laughed, I offered a painfully awkward smile. Even at my mother's funeral, nothing changed. They chatted merrily in front of her coffin, eventually breaking into audible laughter. “Clara, can you greet the guests?” I called out to her. I was the only child in the family, and as my fiancée, she was supposed to help me out with the funeral service. Anxious, I reached out to pull Clara forward, but she brushed my hand away. “Stop making a scene, Jack. Ethan and I are discussing something important.” Ethan just shrugged lightly. “Jack, it’s fine not to greet the guests. It's just a funeral service. Your mom's already gone, so who cares?” With that, the two of them jumped back into their legal discussion. The conversation grew so intense that they decided to head back to the office right then and there to pull court records. I was left standing frozen, my hands stiff in the air. In our three years together, I had been abandoned like this countless times. Gritting my teeth, I stepped up to greet the guests. Clara and Ethan paused for a second, startled. Then, they casually went right back to their conversation as if nothing had happened. Before my mom passed, she had praised what a good wife Clara would be in the future, but now it all felt like a sick joke. This empty, meaningless relationship had to end right now.

On the 1,001st day, Ruby Anderson still hadn't shown up at the city hall. The staff member tapped on the rejected application form and laughed at me mockingly. "Mr. Scott, this makes a thousand times, You should set a time with Ms. Anderson before coming back. "Stop wasting everyone's time." Everyone knew that Ruby was the richest person in this city. She had very limited time. When she was happy, everyone would respectfully address me as "Mr. Scott". However, when she was upset, I would be treated even worse than her nanny. Everyone would take a dig at me. They seemed to have forgotten that she was the one who proposed to me 99 times with roses. She had told the whole world that I was the only man she wanted to marry. I naively believed that she was always too busy. Until I found 997 used condoms locked inside her safe. Each one was labeled with the time and place, along with the name of her first love. This time, I didn't ask her again when we were going to register our marriage. Instead, I called that number, my voice calm. "Please reserve one application form for the memory-erasure experiment for me."

My Alpha mate, Leon Worth, brought a breathtaking mermaid into our estate. He named her Nerissa and tended to her every need with painstaking care. That day, the moment Leon stepped out, Nerissa walked right up to me—and placed my Luna Crown on her own head, right in front of my face. "Leon and I have known each other for six months now. He promised me with his own mouth—he'd take care of me for life." She traced a finger along the crown's rim, her smile poised. "I've made up my mind—I'm willing to drink the potion for him. I'll give up my tail. Delores, step aside and hand over the Luna position. It'll save everyone the humiliation in the end." I didn't argue with her. I just waited for Leon to come back and explain. But when he finally returned, he didn't even bother to take that crown off Nerissa's head. He left me standing there like I didn't exist, while he knelt beside her, gently cleaning her scales, his voice low and tender—like he was handling something fragile, something precious: "Just three more days. I'll get you a better heated pool." The way he looked at her—I'd seen that look for seven years. Now, it belonged to someone else. I turned and walked away. I didn't look back. My flight had barely broken through the clouds when my phone lit up. A message from Leon flashed across the screen: "Delores, don't go. I did all of this—to save you!"

The entire New York mafia world knows that Don Alessandro of the Rossi family takes a brutal punishment from the Council every year just to marry me. Because the Rossi family has a strict rule: all marriages must be approved by the Council. Yet, for three years in a row, Alessandro submitted our marriage application, and every time, it was rejected! The first year, he was locked in solitary confinement for three days and nights. The second year, his back was whipped raw. The third year, he even knelt in a torrential downpour to beg for their mercy. I always thought it was my fault, that I just wasn’t good enough to meet the Council's standards. It wasn't until the fourth year that I found out all those rejection letters from the Council were forged by Alessandro himself. And the reason was Mia—his secretary who had been secretly obsessed with him for years. "Mia has been by my side for eight years. She took a bullet for me. She held me and cried, saying the day I get married would be the darkest day of her life." "I love Jane, but I just can't bear to hurt Mia." "It just means marrying Jane a little later. She loves me so much, she won't mind." But he was wrong. Even though my heart was breaking, I didn't want this kind of love anymore. I called my father: "Dad, I'm ready to come back to Italy and marry the Don of the Caruso family."

Damian Blackwood, the Alpha heir of a neighboring pack, and I had grown up together, yet he told the entire pack I was worthless. "I'm going to be Alpha one day. I'll lead the entire Blackwood Pack. But you're stuffy and dull, and apart from a pretty face, you're worthless." After that, the entire pack knew me as nothing more than a pretty ornament who coasted on her father's name. Later, war came to the Blackwood Pack. The moment Damian rode out to suppress it, I asked my father to arrange a political match with another pack and let me bond with someone else. It was hard on my father, but he agreed. Six months later, Damian returned victorious, only to find that I had already become another man's mate. He came looking for me like a madman, his eyes red. "Why did you take someone else as your mate?" I turned the wedding ring on my finger and looked at him calmly. "You said it yourself. I'm stuffy and dull, and I'm not fit to be your Luna."

The ninth time Julian Hale chose Vivian Cross over me, I held a knife to Vivian's throat and made her beg for forgiveness in the middle of a crowded downtown plaza. I thought that would finally be enough to end the affair. Instead, Julian made me pay for hurting her. He went after my father's company and destroyed it, leaving my family broke and buried in debt to loan sharks. In the end, my father, Martin Ellison, couldn't take it anymore. He swallowed an entire bottle of pills beside my mother, Diane Ellison. The shock was too much for her heart, and she died soon after. I lost both my parents in a single day. The day after the funerals, the doctor gave me more bad news. I had late-stage stomach cancer. I had three months left, maybe less. And just like that, I was done fighting. I moved out of our bedroom, threw away my wedding ring, and stopped calling him hundreds of times whenever he stayed out all night. Even when he brought Vivian home just to provoke me, I didn't argue. Instead, I hired a top chef to cook her favorite dishes. Julian thought I had finally learned my place. Then came Vivian's birthday. With a shy smile, she said her birthday wish was to marry Julian. I pulled the signed divorce papers from my bag and slid them across the table. Julian panicked. He ripped them apart and grabbed my wrist, his eyes bloodshot. "Nora, what game are you playing now? Trying to make me chase you? Where did all that fight in you go?" Before I could answer, I coughed up a mouthful of blood.