Contos e Romances sobre Tragic Love com Cheating

I stay behind to save a heart attack patient. So, I am unable to go and rescue Lucian Linton's dog. The very next second, I receive a message from my fiancee, Christine Stafford. It reads, "Because you stood by and did nothing, Lucian's dog ended up in the hospital! Let's postpone our wedding. Consider it your punishment." This is the ninth time Christine postpones our wedding because of Lucian's unreasonable behavior. This time, I don't want to play along with them anymore. Just then, floating comments appear before my eyes. "Hurry to the rooftop! Christine loves you. She saw through Lucian's tricks a long time ago." "She's postponing the wedding to surprise you. She's secretly planning the wedding of the century for you." I felt a pang in my heart. Filled with guilt, I rush to the rooftop to find her. But the moment I reach the door, I hear Lucian chuckle. "Do you think Maxwell will come beg for your forgiveness after seeing those messages?" Christine replies with a teasing smile, "Of course. That's our company's newest AR technology. Besides, he loves me so much that he won't question it, even if it's fake. This is his fault in the first place. He deserves to be taught a lesson." I freeze. So even those so-called comments claiming she loves me are merely a trick she has pulled on me just to humiliate me. Swallowing the bitterness that wells up inside of me, I turn and walk away. What Christine doesn't know is that after her fake comments disappear, the real comments finally appear before my eyes.

It was the fourth anniversary of our relationship. Heather Hilmann took her friend Liam Sherr and me went to have barbecue together. The waiter recognized them and smiled, asking, "Still the usuals?" Heather nodded. It was a table by the window for two, and Liam sat on the inside. The ribeye had slightly charred edges, and the dipping sauce had no onions. She gave the first piece and the last piece to Liam. I sat near the aisle, and there was not even a dipping‑sauce dish in front of me. When they paid the bill, the waiter checked the membership records and reminded them with a smile, "Ms. Hilmann and Mr. Sherr, tonight was your 100th visit. You can take your customized grill pan home." A line of words was engraved on the back of the grill pan: [Heather and Liam, Together Forever.] The date was three years ago. I then remembered that Heather had been at the hospital celebrating my birthday that day. It turned out that the two hours she had been away were not for a company meeting. Liam touched the engraving and asked her with a smile, "After you and Ian Jeffrey get married, will we still have our monthly get‑together?"

Eliza and Connor had been the absolute dream couple, from high school sweethearts to walking down the aisle. Everyone envied what they had. Then came the fifth year of their marriage, and Connor cheated. Eliza did not scream or throw a scene. She simply placed the stack of unmistakable photos on his home office desk and said calmly, “Either she leaves, or I leave with the kids.” It was the very first real hardship their marriage had ever faced. In the end, Connor chose his family. On the surface, life seemed to return to normal. Connor started going home on time every single night, took an active interest in the kids, and treated Eliza with respect. Yet, a rift now stood between them, and they could never go back to the way things used to be. One afternoon, Eliza wrapped up an interview early and decided to drop by the preschool to surprise her children. As she arrived at the front gates, she spotted her five-year-old twins, Leo and Maya. They were laughing happily as they threw themselves into the arms of a slender woman in a beige dress. The woman bent down, opening her arms to wrap the twins in a tight hug, her face beaming with affection. Eliza froze in her tracks. Her heart skipped a beat. Sofia? What was Sofia—the very woman Connor had cheated on her with—doing there? Before Eliza could even process the sight, the scene unfolding right before her eyes made her blood run cold.

Celia Vaughn sent Roman Keller's mistress out of the country behind his back. That same night, he kidnapped her parents and offered a trade—their lives for his mistress' whereabouts. Roman pushed his phone in front of her. On the screen, her parents were tied to chairs with explosives strapped to their chests, the countdown ticking down steadily.

My friend stares at me in disbelief when I walk away from the kidney transplant. "You love Sienna. You're her only donor match. Why would you back out now?" "Because of a glass of water," I say, my voice steady. Sienna is a clean freak. She never shares anything with me. If I so much as take a sip from a glass, she refuses to touch it. Then I see a video on her male student's social media. In it, he holds out a half-empty drink right to her lips. She takes a sip right from the drink he's holding. Though she frowns slightly, a smile still lingers on her lips. "It's so sweet. You're going to ruin your teeth." I sit in the dark living room that night, watching those few seconds on repeat. When Sienna wakes up, I pour a glass of water, take a sip right in front of her, and hand it over. "Drink it." She stares at me like I've lost my mind. "Kayden, I don't drink after other people." Seven years of marriage, and to her, I am just "other people". I pull my thoughts back to the room and sign the withdrawal form, relinquishing the surgery. Outside the window, the summer sun shines bright while the cicadas buzz. I am done clinging to Sienna and done caring about that glass of water.

After seven years together, Joan Quinton and I finally walked into the studio for our pre-wedding photos. Derek Blake—my old college roommate and the guy who'd introduced us—tagged along. The second he put on his custom best-man suit, Joan's eyes lit up. She immediately wanted a few pictures with him. I was standing in the middle in my wedding suit when Derek rubbed his nose and laughed. "Dude, I look like a bodyguard." Joan instantly pulled me aside and gave him the center spot. The camera flashed. The two of them looked way too natural together. Like they were the ones getting married. While we picked out photos, Joan tapped the shot of all three of us. "Let's blow this one up for the reception." I looked at her. "Why would another guy be front and center in a photo at our wedding?" She shoved the mouse away. "You're a grown man. Why are you being so petty? If Derek hadn't introduced us, would we even be together?" "It's just a photo. I'm still marrying you, aren't I?" I stared at myself on the screen. Even in my best suit, I looked like I didn't belong. Just because you're standing somewhere doesn't mean it's your place. And just like that, I was done fighting to be front and center.

Antonia Wood caught her husband, Ian Hoffman, on a date with his ninety-ninth mistress, Nicole Hallet. Then, in yet another “accident,” she was pushed down the stairs. She lost the baby she had carried for eight months. This was the fifth such “accident.” Yet Antonia neither confronted them nor made a scene. She went to the hospital alone and underwent treatment without uttering a word of blame. This was all because of the humiliating agreement Ian’s grandmother, Gillian Hoffman, had forced her to sign eight years ago. She would receive one hundred million dollars if she could give birth in a year. She would receive fifty million dollars if she could give birth in three years. If she remained childless after eight years, she would no longer be allowed to interfere with her husband’s affairs. This year marked the end of those eight years.

After her miscarriage, Elise Emery became exactly the wife Colsen Locke had always wanted. She quit telling him about her day. Quit calling when he stayed out all night. Even when an old man falsely accused her of hitting him with her car, she didn't call anyone. Didn't ask for bail. She just spent seven days in custody. At dusk on the seventh day, the precinct's iron gate clanged open. Elise had barely made it down the steps when a black Maybach screeched to a stop in front of her. The door swung open. Colsen stepped out in a custom suit, tall and lean, all broad shoulders and cold control. Same polished look. Same unreadable face.

My mate and I have been together for five years, but he always said he wanted to save up $500,000 before marrying me. To help him reach that number faster, I secretly became the most sought-after fidelity tester in the city. One day, I landed a big case. The client complained to me, "We've been together for four years, and he's very generous. He's even planning to propose because he's worried I feel insecure, and he bought me a house." "But I heard he had a mate before me, so just want to make sure he really loves me." She was complaining, sure, but the happiness on her face was impossible to hide. She even showed me photos from their date last month. The moment I saw the photos, I froze. The couple in the pictures were vacationing at the most popular resort in pack territory, their faces pressed close together. They looked blissful and sweet. If only the man in the photo hadn't been Alexander.

Once my wolf awakened, I could smell emotions. Joy was sweet. Grief was bitter. Disgust and anger carried a sharp, spicy scent. Harris and I had been together for nine years, and his scent had never changed. It had always been sweet. That changed when my sister, Gwen, left the pack. That night, Harris came home late, and I caught an unfamiliar bitterness lingering on him for the first time. I simply furrowed my brows, not thinking much of it. Three years later, Gwen returned and announced that she would hold a mating ceremony with an Alpha from another pack. On the day of the ceremony, Harris carried a scent I’d never smelled on him before. The bitterness with spicy notes left chills running down my spine. My heart sank, and before I knew it, I was following Harris after he slipped away from the celebration. The door to the lounge at the end of the corridor was slightly ajar. I could hear Harris growling. “Enough! To kill any hope I had left, you’d choose a mate bond with an Alpha you don’t even love?” Gwen shook her head in tears. “Harris, you’ll be Grace’s mate. We can’t repeat the mistake we have made.” I froze, my blood running cold. It felt as if a paw was squeezing my heart, and the pain ripped through my chest. Just then, my phone buzzed with a reminder for my own mating ceremony with Harris. I stared at my mobile screen. Seconds later, I was on the phone with the venue that was booked for the ceremony. “Hello there. I’d like to cancel my reservation.”

At the National Diving Championships, I pushed through the searing agony of seven painkiller injections in my shoulder to execute a flawless dive. Yet, I ended up losing by a mere 0.3 points to Seren Lockwood, whose splash was visibly far worse. Only after the event did I realize it was my boyfriend, Cassian Blackthorne, who handed me a bottom score of 65. I stormed into the judges’ lounge. “Cassian! You knew this event determined qualification for the world tournament, and you knew Seren didn’t dive better than me! Why give me the lowest score?” Cassian rubbed his temples with a weary expression. “Seren needs this spot far more than you do, Elowen. Just step aside for her this once. You’ll have other chances.” I was twenty-four. For a diver, there was rarely ever an “after.” Exhaustion washed over me. For three years, Cassian had used that same dismissive, disappointed tone to force my retreat. My phone vibrated in my pocket. It was an email invitation that had been sitting in my inbox for weeks—an offer from the World Aquatics Federation in Switzerland to serve as the technical advisor and head coach for its youth team. I had repeatedly turned it down for Cassian’s sake. I unlocked my phone and tapped accept. “Elowen, you’ve always been the sensible one,” Cassian said softly. I looked up at him and smiled. This time, I had no intention of being sensible ever again.

My husband, David Klaus, was a top surgeon with a strict rule: he didn't treat family. Conflict of interest, he said. Absolute professional ethics. He only broke that rule three times. The first was when severe period pain made me pass out, and he finally wrote me a sick note. The second was when my mother’s emergency surgery couldn't wait, and he allowed her into his hospital. The third was when I had a miscarriage risk, and he stepped in to save our baby. I should have felt grateful. But I didn't. Because he didn't break his rule for me. He broke it for my best friend, Wendy. All it took was a single phone call from her. "David, be good. Seeing her in pain hurts me too, and it won't ruin your reputation." And just like that, the unyielding doctor gave in for her. Afterward, he always looked at me with resentful eyes. "I keep breaking my boundaries for you." Waking up after surgery, I watched through the glass as they laughed together. She told him to stop being so rigid. He smiled and promised he would try. He never broke his rules for his wife. He broke them for her. And from then on, I didn't want his pity anymore. ---

The day we announced our marriage, Anastasia Hawthorne's vlog, which recorded her romantic relationship, played on a loop on the screen. It captured moments such as her and her beloved travelling around the world to chase the aurora and kissing under the starry sky. But somehow, through every scene, the shifting light and shadows perfectly blurred the man's face. The twenty-minute video concluded with her making a heartfelt proposal to the camera. The audience's envious cheers echoed throughout the room. A friend threw his arm around my shoulder and teased me, "You two are so sweet it's giving me a toothache. I came here to congratulate you on your marriage, man. I didn't expect to sit through all your lovey-dovey moments too." My gaze stayed fixed on the screen, and I did not say a word. The lights and shadows danced across my face. Finally, I looked away and dropped the truth with a calm expression. "That isn't me in the video."

On my wedding day, explicit photos of me with multiple unknown women suddenly surface. My fiancee, Mildred Gibson, takes my stepbrother Oliver Shaw by the hand and announces that he will be taking my place as the groom. But Mildred's aunt, Daphne Gibson, arrives with millions of dollars, determined to marry me—the man everyone condemns as a cheater. Daphne's unwavering pursuit eventually wins me over, and I marry her. Then, a car accident shatters my spine, leaving me at risk of spending the rest of my life in a wheelchair. The doctors ask my family to sign the surgical consent forms. But my wife, Daphne, places a transfer agreement in front of me. She demands that I sign over my company to Oliver. "Sign this, and I'll sign the consent forms. If you want to make it out of the operating room alive, you'll do exactly as I say," Daphne threatens. She uses the possibility of me spending the rest of my life paralyzed as leverage. I have no choice but to sign the agreement, my hand trembling. Only then do I realize that Daphne's relentless pursuit and the love she shows me throughout our marriage are nothing but lies from the very beginning. Yet, when she sees me again, she breaks down completely. She falls to her knees and strikes herself over and over. "Didn't you say you'd love me forever? Then why did you have a child with someone else?"

Jasmine Pepper and I had been married seven years, and because we were poor, my son and I spent our nights secretly collecting bottles to recycle. My son was quick at it, and good, always looking up at me with a hopeful little face when we finished a round. "Dad, do we have enough saved up to take Mom to the amusement park?" Jasmine was frugal and quiet by nature, and she often turned down our son's requests, always claiming there wasn't enough money. But that day, I counted a whole bag of change and could hardly believe it. I grabbed my son's hand and took him to buy tickets for the amusement park. The moment I looked up, though, I froze. There was Jasmine, one hand laced with another man's, the other cradling his son, riding the carousel like she didn't have a care in the world. My son and I stood rooted to the spot. The ticket seller gave us an apologetic look. "I'm sorry, sir, but that lady's booked out the whole park for the day. You'll have to come back another time."

In the middle of an aphrodisiac-induced haze, Harry Anderson is helped into our bedroom by my partner, Cecilia Stone. Halfway through, she comes back out and flicks a few bills into my face. "Go get me another box of condoms. Three isn't nearly enough." When she sees my indifferent expression, her best friend immediately jumps in with a playful grin, trying to smooth things over. "Chase is still mad. I'll go instead." Cecilia is just about to mock me, but I quietly bend down and pick up the money. Instantly, the living room erupts with girlish laughter. "Alright, pay up! What did I tell you? I knew he'd pick up the money from the floor!" As grating as their laughter is, I remain unfazed. They all think I'm hopelessly in love with Cecilia, but what they don't know is that I've only stayed by her side for the money. Now that every debt hanging over my family has been repaid, I can finally regain my freedom.

"Can I undergo surgery to widen my vaginal canal? My husband is… on the larger side. It's a bit too much for me to handle," a woman says. I stare at the attractive young lady before me, feeling slightly surprised. Most of my patients come to me for vaginal tightening procedures or hymen reconstruction surgery. Requests for vaginal widening surgeries are extremely rare. According to her medical file, the woman's name is Melanie Sanders. After a brief consultation, I examine her. Her vaginal canal is somewhat narrow, but her condition isn't severe enough to warrant surgery. I advise her against the procedure, but she refuses to reconsider. "My husband is quite… well-endowed. He's afraid of hurting me during sex, so he always tries very hard to hold himself back," she explains. "I can't bear to see him suffer. Please schedule the surgery for me as soon as possible, Dr. Smith." Her words make me think of my husband, Zachary Hudson, whose size has caused me pain during intimate moments on several occasions. Feeling my face grow hot, I quickly push the thought aside and schedule the woman's surgery. All of a sudden, the door to the consultation room bursts open, and a man marches inside. Before I can say anything, Melanie throws herself into the man's arms, calling him "honey". I stare at the couple, my blood running cold. As it turns out, the man she has been talking about is the same man I've been married to for two years.

Lisa Jones had never expected how badly her long-distance relationship would go, when James Sachs loved her more than anyone else. As the chief of a hospital, he was a very busy man, but he had flown abroad countless times and clocking over 10,000 hours in travel for her. They could only meet briefly each time. She still remembered in that early winter, he had held her in the snow, saying that he found it all worth it. She received numerous gifts from him, ranging from thousand-word love letters to million-dollar necklaces bought from auctions. If it were just to make her smile, he would pluck the stars from the sky. That love that seeped into their very essence hadn't changed for three years. It was why Lisa forced herself to fly home through the night. But when she heard James' friends marveling at their love, only for James to quietly deny it, she had to admit that she felt like her heart was crushed with the agony of a thousand cuts.

In her past life, Elara Newman had married Orion Baron, who turned out to be an absent husband. On the day she gave birth, she suffered a severe hemorrhage and lost consciousness. However, Orion was unreachable. After she was snapped awake by the doctor, she had to sign her name on the surgical consent form while her hands were still shaking. When her children caught a raging fever, Orion was still nowhere to be seen. She had to rush to the hospital all by herself, and after three consecutive days of looking after them, she was exhausted and passed out in the corridor. On the day when her parents passed away in a car accident, Orion was still absent. As she returned home with the urn containing her parents' ashes, she was greeted by a vicious slap across the face. Her uncle immediately berated her for failing to win her husband over. He blamed her that her parents never got a chance to see their son-in-law before they passed and could never rest in peace. By the time Elara turned fifty-eight, she was terminally ill with cancer. Her life was coming to an end.

My girlfriend, Emma Marshall, had hearing loss and was always claiming she misheard me. I asked her to pick up a gaming setup. She came home with two. "I must've heard you wrong again. Kevin can take the extra one." I asked her to order tacos. She got sushi instead. "Sorry, I heard you wrong. Kevin loves sushi, though. We should invite him over." Then I spent months planning every detail of the home we were supposed to build together and asked her to buy a place in Blackmere. On the day we were supposed to go see it, she drove straight to Carlifield instead. She didn't seem to notice anything was wrong until she realized I hadn't said a word the entire drive. "I'm sorry. I really thought you said you liked the scenery in Carlifield, so when I found this place, I bought it without thinking twice." But Kevin Stone, her childhood best friend, worked only a few minutes away. She hadn't misheard me. She just never cared enough to listen. Something inside me went completely still. For once, I didn't argue. I didn't ask for an explanation. I didn't even feel angry. I just looked at her and said calmly, "Emma, I think we should break up."