Tragic Love Campus の短編小説 & 小説

During my senior year of college, I started dating Leo Whitman online. He was the hottest guy on campus. All through winter break, he texted me every day. He kept me company while I took my grandmother to her pre-op appointments. One night, at two in the morning, he even promised that when we got back to Boston, he'd make up for all the hugs we'd missed. Then the new semester started, and we finally met at the student center. The moment Leo saw me, his face fell. He pulled out his phone, showed me a photo, and said there had been a mix-up. He'd added the wrong girl on Instagram. The girl he had a crush on was my roommate, Vivian Blake. Back in December, Leo had spotted Vivian at the school's winter charity gala and snapped a photo of her from the side. He posted it in his fraternity group chat and offered $10,000 to whoever could introduce them. Except his roommate had sent him my Instagram handle by mistake. And just like that, I understood how I'd spent two months in a relationship that had never really been mine. Leo sat by the window without saying a word. After a long silence, he slid a signed check across the table. "We're done here. But I need you to help me win Vivian over. Write in whatever amount you want."

My girlfriend loves to test my love for her. After the college entrance exam results were released, she, who usually scored over 1450 in mock exams, told me she did not do well and only got 1070. She asked if I would be willing to repeat a year and retake the exam with her. I agreed, even though I had a perfect score. However, when school started, I found out that she actually scored 1540 and had already received her acceptance letter to MIT.

I break up with my childhood sweetheart, Daphne Hogan, right outside my dorm. She doesn't even look up from her phone. "Just because I ditched you for him at dinner the other night?" "Yes." Daphne figures I'm just throwing a tantrum. Her fingers fly across her screen as she replies to a freshman's texts. Whatever message he sends makes her rush off. Before leaving, she gives me a fond, exasperated sigh. "Don't be silly. Get some sleep tonight. You have a hiking drill tomorrow. I'll be there." Daphne walks away without looking back, completely missing the finality in my eyes. It's time to put an end to this childhood romance.

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.

Natalie Underwood and Damian Abbott were high school sweethearts. Both of them were the most good-looking students back in high school, and when they began dating, they were the most well-known golden couple on campus. There was once when they had made a vow to get married once they reached the legal age to do so. But just when their love for each other reached its peak, Natalie suddenly broke up with Damian before leaving the country with a rich scion. On the day of their break-up, Damian chased after Natalie for a very long time with red-rimmed eyes. To think that a young man as prideful as him kept begging her not to break up with him. He kept promising her that he would be successful one day. Damian begged Natalie not to act so rashly. He pleaded with her to wait for him and not to fall in love with someone else. But Natalie remained cold and aloof to him. She didn't even want to waste her breath on him. Heck, when she witnessed him getting into a car accident during his pursuit, she didn't bother returning to him. It was an extremely serious car crash. Damian's kidney was completely ruptured. He needed a kidney transplant in order to survive. Although he was lying on the surgical table while drenched in his own blood, he insisted on getting up so that he could call Natalie on the phone. But the calls that he had mustered all of his strength to place ended up getting hung up by Natalie repeatedly. For as deep as Damian's love for Natalie ran, hatred could run just as deep. From that day onward, Damien had nothing but burning hatred for Natalie.

It has been seven years since I shadowed Eula Ross like a fawning puppy. Under my dedicated tutoring, she successfully became a top student. But after the SATs scores were released, she casually dropped a single line at a class reunion. “Why don’t you apply for a community college with me? I have to go be with Luke Stetson.” All these years, I have been at her beck and call while granting her every wish. To make her happy, I even humbled myself to the point of slapping myself in front of everyone. Everyone said I was her shadow that she could never shake off. They bet that I would be stuck with Eula for the rest of my life. Right then, our classmates were standing by. They waited to see how me, the valedictorian, would humbly agree. For the first time ever, my expression was cold as I flat-out refused her. “Screw that! You’re the one with a screw loose. I’m not.”

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 best friend, Wendy Xander, was always getting things mixed up. We'd make plans to go out on Saturday, but after I'd already arrived, she'd call to tell me she'd meant Sunday. We'd agree to meet at a restaurant, only for her to give me the wrong name and leave me searching for the place for hours. I'd cried over her mistakes more times than I could count. At first, my boyfriend, Jason Jasper, would always get mad at her. But somewhere along the way, he started taking her side, telling me to just let it go. With college starting soon, Wendy suggested we take a trip together. But when I got off the plane, I realized something was terribly wrong. I'd flown to Hollan. Wendy and Jason had flown to Hollandia. Wendy kept apologizing over the phone. "I'm so sorry, Yara! It's all Jason's fault! He kept distracting me, and I got everything mixed up!" "Who's the one who can't even get her words straight?" Jason's voice came from beside her, sounding exasperated but affectionate. "Yara, why don't you just enjoy yourself in Hollan? "You know Wendy's always getting things mixed up. Tell you what, charge everything to my card. Consider it my way of making it up to you." I stood outside an airport in a completely unfamiliar country, listening to the two of them laughing and teasing each other on the other end of the line. Suddenly, I was just tired of it all. I was done playing along with their little game, where I was always the one paying for their mistakes.

We have just finished our classes for the day when Nicholas Wolfe tells me that he's going to a concert with his junior, Madeline Cross. "I'm heading over to the venue right now. I can't let Madeline wait for me, after all." Nicholas sounds so casual, as though he's talking about the weather. I arrange my textbooks neatly before putting them into my bag. "Okay." My response leaves Nicholas stunned. He pauses in the middle of typing a text to Madeline before raising his head to look at me. "Madeline and I are about to watch the concert performed by The Paxleys, your favorite band. Are you… not mad at me at all?" I zip my bag while replying calmly, "Nope." I've begged Nicholas 99 times to watch the concert with me. On the 100th time, he finally buys two tickets… for himself and Madeline. I'm not surprised in the slightest. Ever since Madeline transferred to our university, I've started to get used to Nicholas prioritizing her over me. I sling my bag onto my shoulder and begin making my way to the classroom's exit. Nicholas doesn't move an inch. But when I'm about to leave, he catches up with me and grips my wrist. "Lia, we'll travel to Sorenton three days later. The Paxleys will be holding another concert there. I'll attend that concert with you. "That day is our third-year anniversary, so I definitely won't bail out on you." I look down at Nicholas' hand that's gripping me, then I look up at him. This time, my lips curl into a smile. "Okay." Over the past six months, Nicholas has promised me to do things "next week" nine times, and said "I'll definitely show up" 13 times, and "don't worry" 16 times. But he's bailed out on me every single time he makes plans with me. Next week, we won't be attending the concert together, that's for sure. After all, I'm the one bailing on him this time.

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."

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.

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.

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."

At the National High School Football All-Star Game, my boyfriend Evan had just been named MVP. Sophia, the cheer captain, immediately posted on Instagram. Caption: "Guess who got a little something from the champion himself~" The photo turned out to be a pair of Evan's worn underwear! Scrawled across them in lipstick were the words: "For my dearest Sophia." She held them up with her long acrylic nails, pouting for the selfie. The internet exploded. "Why does she have his underwear?" "Isn't it obvious? They're totally together." "Sitting here waiting for the official couple photo." Within seconds, a close-up of the two of them cheek-to-cheek surfaced in the comments. Congratulations and teasing flooded the feed. I gripped my phone, a chill spreading through my entire body. Evan had promised to go public about us ages ago but kept putting it off, saying he needed to prove himself first. He'd been stalling ever since. Now here I was, his actual girlfriend, and I didn't even get an invite to his victory party. I took a deep breath and called him. "Explain." On the other end, Evan's voice was lazy, almost amused. "The fans grabbed everything off me. Jersey, pads, all of it. Sophia insisted on keeping something as a souvenir, so I gave her the underwear. No big deal." "The Instagram post is just riding the hype. Don't be so uptight about it." Then Sophia's voice chimed in. "Yeah, honey, Evan and I are like brothers! I've seen everything on him already. It's just a pair of boxers, so don't be so petty." I listened to their increasingly flirtatious banter through the speaker, then slowly pulled off my engagement ring and tossed it aside. "Fine," I said to Evan. "I'll be the bigger person. Why don't you skip the 'girl bro' thing and just make her your girlfriend? I'm tired of watching this act."

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 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."

It was a known fact that Melody Shaw, the school belle, only dated people for three months. Yet, she went out with me for nine months. Everyone said that it was proof that I was her true love. However, a viral post in the forums said that her true love, Mike Clint, had returned and that she would ditch me for him soon enough. I thought it was a joke and wanted to show it to her, but she turned to her side and pulled away from me, pretending to be asleep. I thought she was upset that a girl gave me her number, but I needed her contact information for my report. So, I pulled her into my embrace like nothing was out of the ordinary. Her eyes were closed, and her lips were sealed shut. My heart thumped at the adorable sight, and I was about to kiss her. "God, the FMC is so disgusted, but this side character is still touching her like it's nothing. I can see why he got bullied until it killed him." "Does he really think he's her true love? She only dated him for five extra months because the MMC's lucky number is nine, so she does it to rile MMC up." "Yeah, and when the MMC found out she dated another guy for nine months, he panicked and rushed back to court her. Now, our canon ship can finally set sail!"

All because of Leo Cullen’s words, I gave up a place at a top-tier university in Ceres and stayed behind to retake the entrance exams with him—three times. By the fourth year, a girl arrived at our cram school, and Leo forgot the promise we made. He started skipping class, picking fights, smoking—doing everything but studying. One day, I stood at the school gate, blocking his path with a textbook in hand as he tried to ditch class. He smirked, unimpressed, and blew a bubble with his gum, letting it stick to the ends of my hair. “Naomi…,” he began, “who still cares about studying these days?” So I stopped caring and avoided him entirely. When he fooled around in the classroom, I went to the library. When he played basketball, I sat in a quiet corner with my books. Even when I craved noodles from my favorite shop, I’d scan the room first to make sure he wasn’t there. “Are you avoiding me, Naomi?” he asked later, his face in a frown. I shook my head. “Why would you think that?”

On the night before the college entrance exam, my boyfriend misdialed and called my number to confess his feelings to the school beauty. "Adele, you promised that if I willingly skipped the exam for you, you'd be my girlfriend. "That idiot Sadie already gave up her university early admission spot for me. Tomorrow, I'll be standing right outside the testing center with a massive bouquet of flowers waiting for you. I'm going to prove to you once and for all that my heart is yours!" In the background, a rowdy chorus of his friends cheered him on. "Trading a top scorer for the prettiest girl in school. You're a legend, Mark!" "When you two officially get together, you better throw a party!" "A match made in heaven!" Mark told them to quiet down, then anxiously asked into the phone, "Adele, are you happy?" I gripped my phone, unable to utter a single word. Because I wasn't Adele, I was the "idiot Sadie" he was talking about. Mark was my high school sweetheart, the very same boy who, just ten minutes ago, had texted me encouraging words to do well on the college entrance exam tomorrow so we could go to the same college together. After hanging up, I sat in the quiet for a long time. Then, I opened my contacts and called my guidance counselor. "Mr. Simpson, that early admission spot? I'm taking it back."

Ayanna Cambor, the crush of my childhood friend, Dorian Harmon, makes fun of me for being a mute. She purposefully pours melted dark chocolate into my thermos. Then, she howls at the top of her lungs. "As a mute, you can't complain even when you swallow something bitter." Later on, Ayanna takes advantage of the situation by forcing me to stick my tongue out. She insists on making me show everyone whether or not a mute's tongue is different from a regular person's tongue. I look at Dorian instinctively. After all, he has promised me that as long as he's around, he won't let anyone bully me. But he merely shoots me a cold glance. "Just stick your tongue out and show it to Ayanna. It's not anything major to cry over." I can only hold my tears back as I quietly conceal the school transfer application that I've just received. It's true that transferring schools is no big deal. In that case, there's no need for Dorian to know about it.