Tragic Love Campus Short Stories & Mistress Novels

The year my dad went broke, I was sent to live with billionaire heir Jace Blackwell. We grew up together. When he had a fever, he clung to me, face buried in my arms. When he got yelled at, he sprawled across my lap and sulked. And when another boy wrote me a love letter, Jace pinned me down and kissed me—shaking, jealous, possessive. Everyone thought we were the perfect couple. Then, on the day we were filling out our early college applications, a sharply dressed man burst into the classroom and shoved me to the floor. He grabbed eighteen-year-old Jace, his eyes bloodshot. "Jace! Look at me! I'm you ten years from now! Don't go to the same college as Nadia. She's not the one you love. It's Faye!" Faye Whitmore. The broke new girl. Eighteen-year-old Jace stared at that identical face, stunned. Then his expression went dark. "What the hell are you talking about? The only person I love is Nadia! I don't care who you are. Touch her again, and I'll kill you!" He rushed over and pulled me into his arms. He was shaking. I gave a bitter smile. No one knew. I was from ten years in the future, too. And twenty-eight-year-old Jace wasn't lying. By then, I wasn't the girl he loved anymore.

On the day we take our graduation photos before finals, I automatically move to stand next to Callum Rook, my childhood friend. A classmate starts teasing us. "Hey, hey, move over! Let the loving couple stand together!" I've heard jokes like that a million times, but I still blush because of the secret feelings I'm hiding. Callum doesn't say anything. However, when the photographer clicks the shutter, and everyone shouts "cheese", I hear a low, irritated voice ring out. "God, you're so annoying. Can't you just stay away from me?" My smile freezes. That's Callum's voice. My hearing is extra sharp, maybe because I was born with poor eyesight. There is no way I misheard. As soon as the photo is done, Callum turns around and heads straight back to the classroom. I stand there for a long time before finally heading inside. On my way past the wishing wall outside our classroom, I reach up and peel off the note I'd written—the one saying I want to go to the same university as Callum.

My stomach cramped with pain. Lisa Witherspoon said she'd go buy me some hot milk, but she came back with a room-temperature one instead. When I asked her about it, she brushed it off. "I ran into Freddy on the way. He said he wanted something hot, so I gave it to him. Room temperature's basically the same anyway." Standing in the cold November wind, I thought about the past three years, every single time Lisa had chosen Freddy Bateman over me, and I suddenly felt like none of it meant anything anymore. I heard my own voice, perfectly calm, saying, "Let's break up." She looked at me like it was a joke. "So which of my social media accounts are you going to block this time?" What she didn't know was that before I ever said the word breakup, I'd already applied to a top university, Monarch University. This time, I was really leaving.

I've gotten into an accident three days before my SAT exam. As a result, my right leg is completely busted. As Selena Surrey stands before my hospital bed, she suddenly reveals the truth. "I'm the one who arranged the accident." She points at my broken leg, which is still sealed in a cast. A cruel smile blossoms on her face. "It's your fault for displeasing Aaron. You only broke one leg anyway. It's way better than watching Aaron continue to waste away in depression." I widen my eyes in disbelief. As I struggle against Selena, I leave fresh scratches on her arms. But Selena just pushes me away coldly, only to pat me on the head gently as she did in the past. "I think I understand how your parents feel now. No wonder they insisted on sending you to the orphanage back then. It's true that you aren't as likeable as Aaron." Aaron Lindt is my biological older brother. 15 years ago, I had gotten hurt just to save him from getting hit by a car. But he cried to our parents, claiming that I was the one who had pushed him. Our parents were quick to send me to an orphanage, completely disregarding my injuries. Just as I thought it was over for me, Selena showed up and promised me that she'd be the person I could rely on for the rest of my life. But now, she decides to ruin me with her own hands for the sake of the same person she has promised to protect me from.

Everyone at Crestling High notices that Harvey Nord, the hopeless romantic, has been acting strangely lately. He used to be all brawn and no brains, spending every day chasing after Taylor Burke. But suddenly, he stops showing up wherever she goes and begins taking his studies seriously. At his sudden change in behavior, everyone laughs at him. "What's the point of studying now? The college entrance exam is just around the corner. It's way too late!" After all, as far as everyone at Crestling High is concerned, Harvey is nothing but an idiot. What nobody knows, however, is that he's been pretending to be one all along. Throughout all these years of high school, he's deliberately kept his exam scores just above the passing mark, making sure no one suspects his true abilities. But now, with the college entrance exam finally here, he's ready to stop hiding what he can really do. A month later, when the results are released, Harvey stuns everyone by earning the highest score in the state. His results secure him admission to one of the top universities in Matosia. What he never expects, though, is that Taylor, the very girl who once told him to stop bothering her, suddenly goes to great lengths to find him, searching everywhere for him.

On the third day of our graduation trip, my childhood sweetheart finally turned his camera toward me. But after taking only a few pictures, he frowned and lowered the camera. "Not a single one is worth keeping." A classmate beside us looked confused. "Huh? When you photograph Zoey, you barely have to try to get an amazing shot." A dull ache spread through my chest, and I clenched my fingers tightly. Lucas Hudson lowered his camera and said, "Forget it. We're done. You're just not very expressive in front of the camera. No matter how I photograph you, you always look the same." Then he casually stopped a young man standing by the roadside with a camera. "Hey, buddy, take a few pictures of her. I'll pay you afterward." Before the young man could answer, Lucas had already grabbed his camera and hurried toward Zoey Richardson. The moment he aimed his camera at her, the furrow between his brows vanished, and a smile curved across his lips. "Turn around and toss your hair. Yes, that's beautiful..." I stared blankly as they photographed each other with an effortless understanding that needed no words.

On the day the SAT scores were released, I clutched my phone and waited anxiously for forty minutes. “I got a 1550! Oh, Bree got a 1540! We’re both going to Preston Medical University!” my twin brother Michael Ashby shouted. I was about to say I could go too, but my girlfriend, Brielle Willow, had already grabbed Michael’s hand and dashed out the door. Brielle only remembered me during the celebration. “Oh, Fin, Preston Community College is right next to the medical school. Why don’t you just apply to their nursing program? That way, the three of us could still hang out together.” Michael chuckled and lightly patted my head. “Male nurses are in demand. Later on, when goofball Bree and I are doctors, you can assist us as our nurse. It’s the perfect combo!” They complemented each other perfectly like two halves of a whole. I did not belong there. For years, I had been running myself into the ground trying to keep up. They were always miles ahead, and I could only watch from behind. For once, I chose not to chase after them any longer.

During a group assignment, I'm trying to speak up with my ideas. My boyfriend and our childhood friend are flipping through sheet music, heads down, deep in a heated discussion about ensemble pieces. Halfway through, they finally notice I'm still standing beside them. Reid Sullivan and Aria Merrill glance at the sheet music in my hands and look at me like they don't know what to do with me. "Your fundamentals are way too weak for the ensemble, so don't even bother. Just toss that scrap paper." "Yeah, and you've got such a great eye anyway. Just stick to taking our photos and editing our videos." I grip the sheet music I've spent all night writing while fighting back tears. The three of us are childhood friends. They love music and never run out of things to talk about. I love art, can't carry a tune, and can never get a word in. So, everything I put in just gets brushed off as scrap paper. After class, they fall into step together and head for the practice room without even noticing I'm not trailing behind them like I always do. I crouch in the hallway, staring at nothing. If they don't see any value in me, then I should just leave. So, I wipe my tears and stand up. After tossing the sheet music into the trash, I dial a number. "Cedric, is what you said before still on the table? "I've made up my mind. I'm transferring to the art school and studying abroad."

Leona Langham and Sebastian Kane are the match made in heaven that's acknowledged by the entire school. Sebastian is the hottest guy in school. He's tall, lean, and has an extremely handsome face. Oftentimes, he wears a black windbreaker that makes him look like a protagonist from an action comic. Many girls find themselves falling head over heels for him. Unfortunately for them, Sebastian only has eyes for Leona. They are childhood sweethearts who have grown up together. They celebrated their first birthdays together. When they turned seven years old, their families betrothed them to each other. When they turned 14, Sebastian gave Leona a love letter. When they turned 16, Sebastian confessed to Leona. When they turned 18, they promised to apply for the same university. But on their senior year, a new transfer student named Maureen Shadwick joins their class. The homeroom teacher specifically assigns Maureen to Sebastian when she's organizing pairs for the tutor sessions. She stresses to Sebastian, "If you don't accept this assignment, you can forget about maintaining your relationship with Leona at school."

After taking our graduation photo, I break up with Philip Lutz. "You're doing this just because I stood behind Mandy and not you while we were taking our graduation photos?" he asks. "Yes," I merely reply. "Sure," he says with a smile. "You'd better not come crying to me or begging for us to get back together later." Having known each other for ten years and dated for four, Philip is certain that I'll never leave him. However, he's unaware that the graduation photos are just an excuse. If I'm capable of taking my graduation photos alone, I can walk my future path alone. Once I've gone abroad, the sky's the limit for me. I no longer need him to stand behind me either.

On the first night of our graduation trip, Richard Clark, the class representative, suggests that we find our match via room numbers. "Let your luck decide your fate! You'll get to stay in the same room with your partner regardless of gender! How exciting is this?" Throughout my four-year college life, I've been in an underground relationship with Faye Lister for three years. No one knows about our relationship at all. I dig out a ball from the box and wait for my turn to get matched. When it's Faye's turn, she claims that her number is seven. That's when Richard raises his voice. "The other person who gets Room 7 is… Xavier Jensen!" Xavier, the guy whom Faye had once pursued in a grand fashion, shoots her a smile immediately. Everyone cheers on them, claiming that even God wants them to be together. I'm the only one who doesn't say anything. No one knows that I've heard Richard and Faye having a secretive conversation before the start of the game. "Find the ball with a circular bump. That's the mark I've specifically left for you and Xavier." As I watch Faye approach Xavier and arrange his collar with scarlet cheeks, I find myself smiling as well. It turns out that I've wasted three years waiting for Faye to announce our relationship. This time, I decide to be the one leaving this relationship.

On Valentine's Day, by the time I hurry into the seafood restaurant, my boyfriend, Cody Sharp, and my best friend, Irene Thorne, are already halfway through their meal. I reach for a chair, only to realize there isn't an extra one. Cody glances up at me and says flatly, "Staff said they only have tables for two left. A table for three means a four-hour wait. Just find a table for one. It's all the same." Irene offers an apologetic look. "Besides, Serena, aren't you allergic to seafood? Maybe grab a bite somewhere else?" I freeze. We have eaten at this exact spot 30 times. I am allergic to seafood, but since they love it, this is always the place. Just to keep them company, I take allergy medication before every single visit. So they knew all along. They just didn't care. At the table, they laugh as they plan to come back a few more times before heading overseas next month. Thanks to their top grades, both earned fully funded spots in the study abroad program. My grades are average, but because I wanted to stay with them, I was ready to pay tens of thousands of dollars out of pocket to go along. Now, the heavy seafood stench in the room suddenly turns sickeningly sharp. I turn around, walk out, and step into the barbecue joint next door. Pulling out my phone, I cancel my self-funded study abroad application. That feels good. From now on, I get to eat whatever I actually want.

Seventy-two hours before the graduate school recommendation list was posted, someone stole Wesley North's research data. He stared at the empty folder on his screen, his fingertips going cold. Eight months of work—more than two hundred pages of charts and twelve rounds of empirical analysis—gone. Wesley checked the security footage. The files had been copied by Natalie Rowan, his childhood friend of eighteen years, and handed to Derek Sloan, the classmate everyone believed was struggling to get by. In that moment, Wesley didn't think about his own future. He thought about his grandmother. Her doctors had declared her critical eight times, and she was hanging on just to hear whether he'd made the list.

While checking the exam schedule on Conrad Ashford's phone, I accidentally opened his group chat with his friends. One of his messages jumped out at me. "Anyone free to go running with that fat girl Tessa? I'll pay $20 a day. You're done once she gets down to 80 pounds. She's always clinging to me. I can't get rid of her. Just looking at her makes me lose my appetite." I said nothing and put his phone away. … A few days later, Conrad messaged me on WhatsApp, sounding unusually gentle. "I found someone to run with you. Just train with him from now on. It'll be good for you." I did as he suggested. I nodded and added the guy on WhatsApp. … Over the next three months, I trained with Silas Stryker and lost 30 pounds. The day I showed up to class in a fitted dress, Conrad could not take his eyes off me. He cornered me as soon as class ended. "Tessa, you've worked so hard to get in shape just to date me. I guess we should give this a shot. Let me take you to dinner tonight." I shook my head and waved to Silas, who was waiting nearby. "No, thanks. I'm going running with my boyfriend tonight. I don't have time."

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!"

On the eve of my college entrance exam, I receive a letter from ten years in the future. "Elliot Sutton, whatever you do, do not marry Sarah Gibson. Your marriage will be an absolute tragedy." I look up at Sarah Gibson, my girlfriend, who is sitting across from me. She is carefully picking the bones out of my fish for me. She is the most sought-after girl in our school, yet she has never had much of a temper. When it comes to me, she is always gentle and accommodating. Hence, the warning in the letter sounds completely absurd. Feeling unconvinced, I pick up my pen and angrily write my rebuttal on the back of the paper. "What do you know? She only has eyes for me. How could she ever treat me badly? "Ever since we were kids, she's always been the first to stand up for me whenever someone picks on me. Whenever it rains, she'd insist on holding the entire umbrella over my head, even if it meant that she'd get soaked." At the end, I conclude, "At worst, we'll just end up struggling a little. What's the worst that could happen? It's not like this relationship will cost me my life." The moment I stop scribbling, a new line of handwriting slowly appears on the paper. "That's exactly it. If you stay in this relationship, you will die."

On the third day of our graduation trip, my childhood sweetheart finally agreed to take pictures of me. But after only a few minutes, she frowned in frustration and lowered her camera. "Not a single one looks good." A classmate looked confused. "How is that possible? Every picture you take of Ethan turns out great." It hurt to hear that, but I stayed silent. Mabel lowered her camera and looked at me. "Forget it. Let's not take any more. You're just not very expressive. No matter how I photograph you, you always look ordinary." After saying that, she casually stopped a girl by the roadside who was holding a camera. "Hi, could you take a few pictures of him for me? I'll come back and pay you later." Before the girl could even answer, Mabel grabbed her camera and ran toward Ethan. The moment she pointed the camera at him, her mood brightened again. "Turn around and lower your head a little. That's it. You look great..." I stood there quietly, watching how naturally the two of them worked together. Suddenly, I remembered asking Mabel a long time ago, "Why do you always make me look so good in your pictures?" Back then, she had smiled as she fixed my hair. "Because there's love behind the camera. When you love someone, every picture turns out beautiful." Now I finally understood. She didn't love me anymore. Mabel and I had originally applied to colleges in Northfield together. I quietly took out my phone and changed my application to a university in the distant city of Portwell.

Military training had barely started when my boyfriend, Marcus Sterling, succumbed to temptation with the beautiful drill sergeant, Captain Jessica Monroe. Within a week of the new semester, he and the gorgeous Captain Monroe crossed a line. On a 104-degree day, I was punished with 300 push-ups for being two minutes late. Meanwhile, Marcus pinned Captain Monroe down in front of everyone while they cheered him on. When she injured my stomach, which already had an old stab wound, he shielded her eyes and whispered with dark intimacy, "Don't lose focus. She's fine." That same night, alone in my rental apartment, I found a torn condom wrapper under my pillow. After military training ended, I hid beneath the trees and called my father. "Dad, I changed my mind. I want to study abroad."

After our SATs, my childhood sweetheart coaxed me into giving him my virginity. In just one night, he went through half a box of protection. I thought it was physical attraction and that he was madly in love with me. Until one day, by accident, I saw the group chat between him and his friends. [Congratulations to my boy for scoring his first win.] [Rue can barely walk. Weren’t you a bit too rough?] [Too rough? She’s tough. She can take it. I’m just getting some practice in, so I’ll know how to treat the school’s prettiest girl right in the future. If I mess her up, I’d actually feel bad.] So all those years of being childhood sweethearts were nothing but a joke. I changed my university application. From that moment on, he went south, and I went north. Our paths never crossed again.

On graduation photo day, my boyfriend, Ethan Jones, takes more than 200 photos of Chloe Lloyd, the prettiest girl in our class. As president of the photography club, he knows better than anyone how to find the most flattering angles. Chloe stands beneath a tree and smiles at him. "Are you sure this isn't too much trouble?" Ethan looks down and flips through the photos on his camera. "Not at all. You look good no matter how I photograph you," he says gently. When my turn comes, I clutch the hem of my skirt and walk over. Ethan casually presses the shutter twice. "Done." I stare at him. "That's it?" He frowns at me. "You never look good in pictures anyway. Don't hold everyone else up." I look at the two photos on his camera. My eyes are closed in one, and half my face is hidden in the tree's shadow in the other. I ask him to take a few more, but instead, he puts up a post on the campus forum. "Photographer wanted. 20 dollars to snap a few graduation photos of my girlfriend." Half an hour later, I receive a private message from an unfamiliar profile. I send over my location, then say quietly, "Just so you know, I'm not photogenic." The reply comes almost immediately. "Your photographer didn't know how to work with you." After the shoot, he sends me the unedited photos. I'm stunned when I see the photos. I never knew I could look this good on camera. Even crazier, the photographer who took the job for 20 dollars seems to know what he's doing better than the president of the photography club.