Tragic Love Short Stories & Hypocrisy Face Slapping Novels

At a party the night before Aiden and I are supposed to officially get engaged, someone starts a round of "Never Have I Ever." One of my fiancé's friends raises his glass. "Never have I ever gotten my fiancée's best friend pregnant before getting engaged." The room goes dead silent for a second. Then everyone bursts out laughing. I pretend I don't hear a thing and keep feeding my fiancé, Aiden Bassett, pieces of fruit like he's the only person in the room. Aiden takes a slow sip of his drink, then looks over at my best friend, Sharon Moore, his expression soft. "Sharon's always wanted a baby, but she never wants to get married. I just helped her out." Sharon looks away shyly. "Okay, enough. Renee's right here." My fingers tighten around my glass. That's when it finally hits me that they're talking about Aiden. The second his friends notice my reaction, they rush to smooth things over. "Renee, don't be upset. You're so good to Aiden. You're sweet, and you've always got everything handled. We just didn't want to keep this from you!" "Honestly, Aiden did you a favor too. If you're okay with it, you get a baby without ever having to go through pregnancy yourself. Sounds like a pretty good deal, doesn't it?" "Exactly. Sharon and Aiden have known each other forever. She's practically family." I don't cry or make a scene. I just smile, stand up, and give up my place beside my fiancé. What they don't know is that I only play the good girl when it benefits me. I'm not obligated to raise someone else's baby.

My mother-in-law, Lillian Pierce, gets into a car accident and needs a liver transplant from my wife, Elena Prescott. However, she is busy playing a murder mystery game with her first love, Ethan Bennett. In my previous life, I forcibly drag her away from the game and bring her to the hospital for the liver transplant. No one could have foreseen the tragedy that would happen. During this time, Ethan crosses paths with a deranged serial killer and ends up dead in an alley. After his tragic end, Elena doesn't show any reaction to his passing—until the anniversary of his death. On that day, she locks me in the basement and slices the flesh off my body piece by piece. "If it weren't for you, Ethan would never have died. Go down there and apologize to him!" Her smile is sinister, a tell-tale sign of the madness that has consumed her. When I open my eyes again, I am back to the day when Lillian gets into an accident. This time, I do not force Elena to do the liver transplant. She saves Ethan but loses her mother forever.

At our class reunion, someone suggested that we play Truth or Dare. When it was James Maddox's turn, the campus heartthrob chose truth. Someone asked him, "What was the one thing you regretted most in your life?" James' voice was filled with sorrow. "The thing I regret most was insisting on going abroad to study back then. I missed the love of my life." Suddenly, my drunken girlfriend shoved me away and staggered toward him. Her eyes held a depth of affection I had never once seen directed at me. "The thing I regret most in my life was never managing to win you over!" The two of them stared into each other's eyes, looking like lovers who had finally reunited after years apart. The private room fell deathly silent. Everyone awkwardly glanced at me, expecting me to make a scene. But I simply applauded. "Good for you. Let's congratulate them on getting back together." What she did not know was that I had already agreed to the marriage my family had arranged for me. This time, I truly did not care anymore.

This was the sixth time Dante Falcone had slammed that damned divorce agreement down in front of me, forcing me to sign. This time, I did not resist. He set down the pen. In that instant, a suffocating silence filled the room. His deep brown eyes locked onto me, sharp and probing, as if he were trying to see straight through my soul. "Why so obedient this time, Sofia? Or are you planning another trick? Don't forget who you are. Mrs. Falcone." I removed the ruby ring that symbolized the mistress of the family, the one he had placed on my finger when he proposed to me in Sicily. I set it gently on the desk, a surface stained with both blood and money. My voice was calm, lifeless. "No, Dante. I'm just... tired. Your world is too loud."

For ten years, I stand by Robert Lopez's side, watching him rise from the trenches of obscurity to the blinding heights of superstardom. But on the night he clinches the Best Actor award, he drops to one knee and proposes to a starlet he's known for less than ten days. Those eyes that are so full of love and devotion, no matter who they're looking at, turn cold and threatening for the first time. "Danielle, I've slept with her, so I need to take responsibility. You're willing to stay by my side without a title or a promise, but she can't. She needs a sense of security." A bitter laugh escapes me. That's when I finally understand that love has nothing to do with time. But hear this, Robert. Just because I've waited for you for ten years doesn't mean I deserve to be treated like trash or that you're the only man for me.

After I was reborn, I burned every photo I had with Natalie Landers and tore up the three years' worth of love letters Kristen Rhodes had written me. In my last life, I'd been nothing but a joke caught between those two women. Natalie swore she loved me, but the moment I gave up my study-abroad spot for her, she left the country with Freddy Palmer. Before she left, she wrote me a letter, saying, "He needs me more than you do." I spent three months falling apart. Kristen brought me dinner every night and told me, "I've waited eight years for you." Once we were together, she came home on time every evening and never so much as looked at another man. I thought I'd finally bet on the right person. Then one winter, I got into a car accident. I spent seven days unconscious in the ICU, and she never once came to see me. Instead, I overheard the nurses talking. "His wife comes by every day, but only to check on the patient next door, some man named Freddy." I found out later that Natalie had taken Freddy abroad to help him pay off his gambling debts, all with money Kristen had given him. I hadn't been anything more than an NPC in the love story the three of them were writing. This time around, I sold the house early and took my grandfather abroad with me to study.

In the third year of my marriage, I endure a full day of painful labor to give birth to my first child. However, my husband steals the baby to give to his true love. I try my damnedest to stop him, but all I get is a barrage of insults. "It's just a baby! I'm the one who planted the seed, so I get to decide who gets the fruit!" I'm overwhelmed by grief as I watch my husband leave. However, he shares a happy post on his social media. "Mother and daughter are safe." His true love comments, "Thank you for giving me a child, Jaspie. I'll be the happiest woman in the world with you two by my side." Clueless friends bless them and wish them well. I silently comment, "Give me back my child." All I get is another round of insults. Then, I'm blocked. I don't want to endure this anymore. I hire a lawyer to draft divorce papers before making a police report. "Officer, I want to report my husband for child trafficking."

After the IVF procedure worked, I finally got pregnant and flew back from overseas, hoping to surprise my husband, Rob Balmer, with the news I'd been waiting so long for. A friend tipped me off that while I'd been abroad, Rob had taken on a new personal assistant — the clingy, temperamental type who always had to have her way. At first, I didn't think much of it. In the old days, all I had to do was frown, and Rob would have anyone who got on my nerves shown the door. But when I got home, I found out the code to the front gate had been changed. I tried our wedding anniversary date again — and that's when the door swung open. Some woman was leaning against the doorway in my silk pajamas, all drama and attitude, her brows arched like she owned the place. "Look what the cat dragged in — some beggar showing up at the Balmer estate! Scram! Or I'll set the dogs on you!" I was so furious I almost laughed. "Go get Rob. I want to ask him just what kind of stray he's been letting into this house." And I had one more question: Did he still want the heir — the Balmer family's only shot at continuing nine generations of single sons— the one I was carrying right now?

The night before my mom, Josie Swift, remarries another man, she suddenly barges into my room. "Colin, I'm getting married tomorrow. I don't need you to be my ring bearer anymore." The makeup artist is carefully applying concealer to my left cheek, so I don't catch what she says at first. Mom frowns, her voice laced with frustration and disdain. "Don't bother. The scar on your face won't just disappear like that. The more you try to cover it, the more hideous it looks! "The guests attending my wedding tomorrow are important business associates of Gavin's. Are you trying to embarrass me on purpose? You know how hard it is for me to marry him with you tagging along. They are already gossiping about me behind my back. It's so humiliating." The makeup artist pauses, then awkwardly steps outside. I stare expressionlessly at my reflection in the mirror, saying nothing. My stepfather, Gavin Dunn, stands outside, his head bowed as he adjusts his son Chris Dunn's bow tie. He shows absolutely no reaction to what Mom has just said. Mom sighs and slips into her usual self-pitying tone. "You've been a good boy ever since you were little. You should know how hard it is for me. I need to look dignified and presentable. Tomorrow, Chris will be my ring bearer, and the three of us will take a family photo on stage. You stay backstage and don't cause trouble for me, okay?"

Three years after my husband, George Martins, cheated and begged to come home, I cheated too. He rushed home to find me lying on our marital bed. My skin was covered in fresh love bite marks and dark bruises. "George, no wonder you cheated on me so many times. "I get it now. It feels amazing." George's eyes snapped wide. His gaze turned bloodshot. He grabbed my throat and slammed me into the mattress. "Clara, do you really hate me this much? "I came home! I became the perfect husband! What more do you want from me?" He wasn't lying. For three years, he did everything to make me feel safe. He handed over his phone every night. He video-called me every five minutes whenever he left the house. He knew his infidelity made my skin crawl. Every time he wanted intimacy, he scrubbed his body three times and disinfected himself five times. My fingertips trembled. I stared straight into his eyes. "Your body came back, but what about your mind? "Every time you get drunk, you scream Maya's name! Every dress you buy me is a white gown she would wear! “You bring home her favorite roses on our anniversary! Even the anniversary ring you bought me was fitted to her finger! "You cut physical ties with her, but you're forcing me to turn into her!" George's hand shook against my neck. He forced a twisted smirk. "Clara, you have no right to lecture me now. I cheated, sure. But are you any better?" "We’re both trash. We deserve each other." His shameless words turned my three years of silent agony into a complete joke. Exhaustion settled heavy in my chest. I didn't want this marriage anymore.

For the fourth time, Sienna stood me up at the marriage registry to take care of her adopted younger brother. “Kane, Ryan’s mental stability index is nearing critical levels again. I’m the only one who can stabilize him. Can you wait a little longer for me?” I glanced at the clock on the wall. The registry office would close in fifteen minutes. This time, I said nothing. I simply tossed our registration form into the void behind me. In an age when mutated beasts ravaged the world and two-pilot mechas ruled the battlefield, I was the only person in the entire Alliance capable of piloting one alone. Yet for ten years, I had willingly served as Sienna’s personal co-pilot, risking my life through countless battles and lifting her to the pinnacle of power. But no matter how much I sacrificed for her, I could never compare to Ryan—the sickly orphan her father had adopted, whom she had always treated as her helpless little brother. I earned a high-grade armored suit with my military merits, only for Sienna to hand it to Ryan without a second thought. “Kane, you’re strong enough without it. Ryan is frail. For my sake, can’t you let him have it?” I spent countless nights developing a tactical program, only for her to give that to Ryan as well. “He scares easily, so he needs something foolproof. You’re a genius. You can operate the mecha manually, can’t you?” Sienna was certain I would never leave her. What she didn’t know was that the Alliance’s iron-willed female governor had been waiting a long time for my answer to her marriage proposal.

When I went to return my engagement ring, the jeweler asked me why. Right in front of her, I slid it onto my finger. It caught at the second knuckle and wouldn't go any farther. "You can see for yourself. This isn't my size." The jeweler went pale and offered to resize it on the spot. I shook my head, my voice eerily calm. "You can fix the ring size. You can't fix the shoe size. And you definitely can't fix the wedding dress." Everything about my wedding to Charles Garth was mine in name only — my name was on the invitation as the bride, and that was as far as it went. Every time I asked him to come try on the dress with me, he'd keep his eyes on his laptop and answer without looking up. "I'm busy. I already know your measurements. I gave them to the boutique myself. "Just show up and be the bride. Everything's already handled." But three days before the wedding, what I got was a ring that wouldn't fit and a dress I couldn't wear. The shoes, the gloves, the garter — every single piece was sized for my best friend. Something I'd been holding onto for a long time finally gave out, and it left a hole in my chest. Charles frowned, still trying to talk me into it. "It's just a ceremony. You two are so close — would it really be so bad if Maia stood in for you at the altar?" I didn't say anything. I didn't refuse, either. I just thought — maybe it wouldn't be so bad to swap out the groom instead.

In the fifth year of their marriage, Layla Turner insisted Jules Fanon take on Roland Presley as his assistant. “His name is Roland Presley. He’s young and hot-tempered. Be patient with him and help him out if there’s anything he doesn’t know.” During that first meeting, Jules hardly suspected that this young man would eventually turn out to pose a grave threat to him. Three months later, Jules stood outside the house and watched his wife of five years, Layla, cheating on him with another man. This other man was none other than Roland himself, the assistant whom Layla had insisted on assigning to him. Jules waited downstairs for Layla to explain, and when she finally did, she remarked nonchalantly, "We're just having fun. Look, the boy is upset about being the other man, so how about this? We can get divorced for now and remarry three months later." Jules agreed without hesitation. "Sure." However, in Jules’ vocabulary, there was no room for remarriage! Since Layla wanted to be with someone else, then so be it!

I spent five years delivering food and saved up enough to buy a home, all so I could marry my girlfriend of five years, Megan Portman. On the day of the bride pickup, the bridesmaids went all out with their pre-wedding mini games, and I happily played along. But once every cash envelope had been handed out, I realized something was off. Megan's best friend, Jeanie Westwood, pulled out her phone and opened her payment app. "We want to share in the good luck too. There are eighteen of us here, so each of us gets 999 dollars. We'll bless your marriage to be a long-lasting and happy one." After a lot of pleading, I scraped together 20,000 dollars and sent it over. I figured that was enough to finally win my bride. Instead, Megan sat on the bed and refused to let her feet touch the floor. "My mom just laid down the law. The send-off fee is going up. Let's round it off to 66,000 dollars." I was stunned. "Didn't we agree on 6,600 dollars? Where am I supposed to get another 60,000 dollars right now?" Megan played with her nails, her face cold. "That's your problem. If you can't come up with the money, I'm not putting my shoes on." I looked around at the room full of relatives enjoying the show and stood up. "This wedding is off."

When the chandelier crashed down at my wedding, I shoved my best man, Evan Simmons, out of the way. I couldn't get clear in time. A metal support rod drove into my lower back and snapped, leaving a jagged piece embedded in the wound. Blood soaked into my dark military dress uniform, but the thick fabric and wide, rigid belt hid the injury. Evan, my parents' adopted son, had a clotting disorder. A shard of glass barely grazed his forehead, but blood was already running down his face. My bride, Sophia Russell, was an ER doctor. She rushed to Evan and held him against her. "His blood doesn't clot properly! Even a small cut can be life-threatening!" I caught her sleeve and pointed to my lower back, trying to get her to look at the wound. She knew what I was telling her, but she brushed my hand aside. "You don't even look hurt. Stop making a scene." My sister, Lila Bradford, was a fire captain. After checking the wreckage, she gave Evan the only available stretcher. "We accounted for all the broken pieces. Nothing could've stabbed you, and I don't see a wound." She looked at me sternly. "Kyle, being my brother doesn't mean you get priority over someone who's actually hurt." I staggered after them, but Mom, a head nurse, blocked me at the door. "Evan got hurt at your wedding. You need to stay and handle the guests, or people will say he ruined your big day on purpose. Do you want them blaming him for this?" They all left in the ambulance. I stood alone in front of a room full of wedding guests. The pain was unbearable. I opened my mouth to call for help, but no sound came out. Three years earlier, shrapnel from an explosion tore through my throat during a mission. I hadn't been able to speak since. Now the only people who understood my gestures were gone. No one else realized I was asking for help.

I've been able to smell people's emotions since I was a child. Affection smells sweet. Sorrow smells bitter. Disgust and anger smell spicy. I'd been with Bruce Dawson for ten years, and the scent that clung to him had never changed. It was always sweet, cloyingly so. The only thing that ever shifted was the day my older sister left the country. That night, when he came home late, his scent had turned bitter enough to make me frown. But I never connected the two. Not until three years later, when my sister came home to get married. That day, his scent was bitter laced with something spicy, a mix I'd never smelled on him before. It struck me as strange. Without thinking, I followed him when he stepped away from the reception, and outside in the stairwell I heard his voice, low and pained. "That's enough, Jasmine! You'd rather marry a stranger just to make me give up on you?" My sister's voice cracked as she cried back at him. "What else can I do? You're my brother-in-law. Rosalie is my sister. We can't keep doing this to her!" I froze in the doorway, my whole body shaking with shock, my heart wrung out like a fist closing around it until I couldn't breathe. That was when my phone lit up with a reminder: my wedding to Bruce was next week. I stood there blank for two seconds. Then I called the hotel and canceled the wedding.

Owen Gray and I get into an accident. I'm seven months pregnant, but I save him anyway. I end up in a coma. I wake up after three years. Owen has amnesia, and he's now my sister's husband. My child also calls her his mother. I try everything, but Owen doesn't remember me. Instead, his love for my sister grows deeper. Even our son blames me for waking him and ruining their happy lives. When I finally decide to let go, I overhear a conversation between Owen and someone else. "Shannon was willing to give up her life for you, Owen. If she finds out your amnesia is an act…" "There's only a week to go before my three-year agreement with her sister is over. I'll give Vivian the wedding she wants. Then, I'll act like I've recovered from my amnesia. Luca and I will return to Shannon's side." I'm stunned. I never would've expected Owen to be pretending to be an amnesiac. I look at the diagnosis report in my hands. It's too bad I can't even wait for a week.

At the wedding, I immediately recognized that the woman under the veil wasn't Selene, but an impostor. But I still went through with the ceremony as if nothing was wrong. In my previous life, Selene had been forced to return and complete the wedding with me after I exposed the fake bride in front of everyone. That very night, however, her childhood sweetheart was rushed to the ICU with acute alcohol poisoning. When Selene heard the news, she didn't shed a tear. Instead, she cursed him, saying he got what he deserved. … After we married, Selene and I appeared to be a loving couple on the surface. I kept funneling money from my family to save her family business from collapse. But on our first anniversary, my wife—with not even a sliver of warmth in her eyes—tied me to a helicopter with her own hands. "If you hadn't forced me to come back and marry you that day, Chase wouldn't have ended up like that," she snarled. "What right do you have to live so happily? I'll make sure you feel the pain he went through before he died." She threw me from ten thousand yards up, and I hit the ground as nothing more than a broken heap of flesh. So, this time, I pretended to know nothing and went through with the wedding alongside the fake bride. I wanted to see just how Selene would manage to save the crumbling Liraine Co. without the Schreiber family's support.

After my wife, Erina Winters, returns to the family following her affair, everyone in my family becomes her surveillance team. When she takes the trash out, Dad tails after her and films a video for me. "She behaved herself and didn't even glance at her phone." When she goes to her law firm for work, Mom disguises herself as a janitor to infiltrate the building. "Not a single man came within a five-mile radius." When she returns to the country after an overseas case, my long-time best friend, Jeffrey Conley, scans her entire body with a device. "No marks and no hickeys anywhere. Everything looks normal." Everyone assures me that Erina's heart is truly back with me now. She will even cuddle up with me every night, swearing that she will only love me and our future child from then on. Then, she announces that she's going away on a long business trip, so I go for my medical checkup alone. While passing the obstetrics department, I unexpectedly stumble upon her sitting on a delivery bed, with a man cradling a newborn baby next to her, leaning over and kissing her on the cheek. Mom, Dad, and Jeffrey are gathered around the bed too, beaming widely. I recognize the man instantly. It is Dustin Nielson, the man whom Erina once cheated on me with. The moment everyone sees me, they immediately go on high alert. They instinctively shield the baby from me and glare at me with wary eyes. However, I simply walk up calmly to them and tuck a loose strand of Erina's hair behind her ear. "The baby is adorable… It looks exactly like you. "I'll leave you to it. I need to go back and do the laundry."

When a massive hurricane headed toward our city, officials declared the entire area a high-risk zone and ordered everyone to evacuate. But my fiancée, Mabel Payne, refused to leave. Her adopted younger brother, Jason Payne, suffered from severe trauma, and he wouldn't budge. On the first day, Jason took a high-powered slingshot and shattered the expensive hurricane-resistant windows I had installed. On the second day, he flushed our entire supply of emergency medications down the toilet. On the third day, he opened the front door and let a pack of stray cats and dogs tear through all the emergency food I had spent so long stocking up on. With nearly everything we needed to survive the hurricane destroyed, I suggested hiring a professional evacuation team to get Jason and the rest of us to safety before the storm hit. Instead, Mabel flew into a rage. "Jason has PTSD! Taking him somewhere unfamiliar could trigger another episode! Are you trying to get him killed?" But when the hurricane finally hit, Mabel shoved me right out of the rescue helicopter, breaking my leg. "This is all your fault! You're taking up the space Jason needs for his things! You know he can't function without them! What if his condition gets worse? Just wait for the next rescue helicopter!" What she didn't know was that there wasn't going to be another helicopter. And without me, this one wasn't going anywhere.