Independence Tragic Love Short Stories & Novels

On the very day I underwent a vasectomy, Susan bought the designer tuxedo I had been eyeing for months. However, her next words struck me like a bolt of lightning. “Tomorrow is my baby’s sip-and-see. I need you looking your best.” The IV needle snapped right out of the back of my hand. With bloodshot eyes, I begged her to stop playing around. However, her face remained dead serious. “Choosing to be childfree back then was just a compromise because we were struggling. But now, I’m sitting on a multi-million dollar estate. I need an heir to inherit my fortune. My child will be your child, too. From now on, you will be the baby’s godfather.” In that exact moment, my vision blurred. “So, you pushed me to get a vasectomy just to secure the positions of your lover and your illegitimate child?" I spat out. Susan frowned, annoyed. “Myles, watch your mouth. I am giving you the status of my official husband, and I'm giving Owen the child. It’s a fair trade. Staying with me means you get to be a father without any of the pain. If you leave me, who else would ever want a sterilized man like you? Think about it wisely.” The pain hit me all at once as the anesthesia wore off. Yet, I couldn’t help but remember that once upon a time, she had carried a child of ours that she refused to accept.

On 1st of June, I unexpectedly receive a phone call from my future daughter. With a smile on my face, I ask her, "Sweetheart, are Mommy and Daddy still happy and in love?" She proudly replies, "Of course! Mommy and Daddy have a great relationship. They never fight. He says she is the person he loves the most in his life!" My face flushes with embarrassment. I think to myself that Malcolm Gray really shouldn't be saying things like that in front of a child. Lost in happiness, I continue asking questions. "Then did you take my last name, Rosewood, or Daddy's last name, Gray?" She falls silent for two seconds, like she is confused. Then, she replies, "I have Daddy's last name, but my mommy's last name is Parker. Her name is Summer Parker." I freeze at those words. Summer Parker is the name of my best friend since childhood. Just yesterday, she and Malcolm end up in the hospital after getting into a physical fight because of an argument involving me.

After I was rescued from a staged kidnapping, my wife, Vanessa, moved out of our bedroom on her own. No matter how I explained, she insisted I had been attacked because I had cheated. Even when I tried to touch her, she screamed and threw up on me. Friends and relatives looked at me with more and more pity. Everyone told me, "Vanessa's a good woman. Stop tormenting her." Even my son snapped, "You're so filthy. Why do you have to force Mom?" From then on, I was branded a cheater and a lunatic. I spent the rest of my life in misery and despair, and in my old age, I ended that wretched life by throwing myself into a lake. Only after I died did I learn that the kidnapping had been staged by Vanessa herself. She used my guilt to make me take care of our son and her father. Meanwhile, she kept herself "pure" for the man she'd never gotten over and lived a carefree life with him. When I opened my eyes again, I had returned to the day I was rescued.

My wife, Sophie Souza, cheats on me when she gets drunk. That's when she gets pregnant with her assistant, Dylan Hart's baby. By the time I come across Sophie's pregnancy report, she's already three months into her pregnancy. I tell her outright that I will choose to forgive her as long as she aborts the baby. But Sophie asks me coldly, "Which one will you choose? Me or your dignity?" I remain silent for a very long time afterward. In the end, I leave a divorce agreement behind and completely vanish from Sophie's world. But that's when she claims that she regrets making me choose.

It was the fifth year of my secret marriage to the CEO. At the company's annual gala, her male assistant got down on one knee and proposed to her in front of everyone. The way she looked at him was filled with nothing but affection. Caught up in the crowd's cheers and chants, she said yes. After the gala, I signed the divorce papers and handed them to her. Her assistant put on a sheepish, apologetic face and said, "I'm so sorry—I just wanted to know what it felt like to propose. Please don't be upset, Mr. Gabehart." She rushed to comfort him, then barely glanced at me and said, "You'd better think this through. At your age, honestly—who else would want you if you leave me?"

The night before my wedding, I caught my fiancé, Miguel Sheffield, kissing the Newells' biological daughter in the garden. I stood there with my pregnancy test in hand, my chest hollow. The next day, the wedding went on. Flowers lined the red carpet. Guests lifted their champagne glasses. But the bells rang again and again, and the bride never showed. The daughter the Newells had raised by mistake left only her engagement ring on the vanity. Then she vanished. I moved overseas and raised my child alone. I cut off everyone from my past. Five years later, I came home. And one by one, they walked right back into my life.

I was not a competent Luna. Despite being marked for years, I never managed to bear an heir for Raymond Miller. According to pack tradition, a Luna who could not continue the Alpha bloodline was expected to step down voluntarily, or at least permit other she-wolves to approach the Alpha. But I stubbornly refused. On his deathbed, he held my hand and let out a low, teasing laugh. "Your possessiveness is simply too fierce, Chloe. If there is a next life, I certainly won't choose you as my mate again." I thought he was merely joking, so I deliberately snapped back, "Fine by me. Then I won't bond with you either." Yet, when I opened my eyes again, I had actually returned to the exact day he was choosing a mate for our political alliance. Inside the magnificently decorated hall, eligible she-wolves from all the allied packs held their breath, desperately hoping to be chosen. The Pack Elder smiled warmly at Raymond. "Alpha heir, please take this moonstone necklace that belongs to the future Luna and place it around the neck of the she-wolf you have chosen." Raymond walked directly toward me. I couldn't help but curl my lips into a small smile, thinking that he was playing coy as usual. Even in another life, he would still choose me. But in the next split second, he brushed right past my shoulder. A sharp gasp echoed from behind me. He placed the necklace around the neck of another she-wolf.

I was in my mate Zane’s study, dropping off an invitation for the Alliance gala, when his tablet lit up. A private group chat. “Party tonight at the Alliance’s best restaurant to celebrate Vivienne passing the trials.” Confused, I tapped open the group. There were only four people in it. My own parents, the pack’s Alpha Hector and Luna Freda. My fated mate Zane, the future Alpha. And Vivienne, my adopted sister. The Omega orphan I’d naively rescued years ago. My mother typed: “Good thing Hector used his council connections to get Vivienne the spot in the Alliance’s strategy department. Harper’s already strong enough. This is more important for Vivienne.” Zane replied instantly: “I wish Vivienne were my mate. She’s the one who needs an Alpha’s protection, not Harper. The Moon Goddess must have made a mistake.” I stared at the screen. The blood drained from my body. To my own parents and my mate, I was already an outsider. My strength and independence had become their excuse to shamelessly favor someone else.

On the day I left for a business trip, my son, Billy Smith, livestreamed his suicide attempt from our home. While I took my time shopping at the mall, my younger sister, Lori Chaney, and my husband, Greg Smith, were beside themselves with panic. By the time I got the call from Lori, I dropped everything at work and rushed home. However, I reached home to see Billy sobbing into the camera. “Mom, whenever Dad isn’t home, you bring Mr. Scott into the house. After that, you’d force me to keep it a secret. When I refused to play along, you abused me in every way you could! I also found the medical report in your nightstand. You have AIDS, but you never told Dad. I’m ashamed to have a disgusting woman like you as my mother!” Billy then jumped from the building and landed on the rescue airbag without a scratch. I, however, became the target of public outrage. I tried to clear my name, but no one believed me. After all, who would risk his own life just to frame his mother? Greg even brought me a glass of poisoned milk and forced me to drink it. He then told everyone that I had committed suicide out of shame. When I opened my eyes again, I realized I had been sent back in time to the day Billy threatened to kill himself.

On our wedding day, my bride-to-be, Jody Simmons, disappears without a trace. All she leaves behind is a baby with a heart condition and a letter. She writes, "Dami, I love you, but I've also fallen in love with Henry Ziegler. I can't officially make him mine. So, I've decided to travel around the world with him to make it up to him. I'll give you a chance to raise the child Henry and I have together. While we're away, let our child keep you company." But why should I raise another man's child? Six years later, I take my daughter to the airport to see my wife, Ivy Simmons, off on a business trip. When I turn around, I spot Jody pulling a suitcase behind her. The moment she sees the little girl in my arms, her face lights up with delight. She gushes, "Dami, is this Henry and my child? You've raised her so well! But Henry and I are already married overseas, so I can't marry you anymore. Don't worry, though. In my heart, you've always been my husband." Looking at the striking resemblance between her features and my daughter's, I chuckle softly. I say meaningfully, "Careful. Don't go around claiming someone else's daughter as yours. This is your cousin."

The system transports me into an alternate historical world. After waiting for ten long years, I am finally notified that I can leave this world. Before my departure, the system grants me three days to say goodbye. So, during those final three days, I become the person that the empress, Bella Barrett, has always wanted me to be. When she hands the royal seal to Harry Johnston, I smile and present it to him myself. And when she decides to build a shrine in his honor, I support the project wholeheartedly. Later, I go to the treasury and select a few precious treasures to take with me. One of my attendants asks curiously why I need so many valuables. I smile and answer, "I'm going home." Bella suddenly turns toward me. For the first time, panic fills her eyes. "But Josiah, aren't you an orphan? Other than your home here with me, where else could you possibly go?"

The year I lost my sight at five, I found Stellan Hale half-frozen in the snow. I told my mother I wanted a companion to guide me and begged her to take him in. Then I leaned close to his ear and whispered a promise. "I don't need you to be my guide dog. Just stay alive. Go wherever you want to go." Still, Stellan stayed. After Mom remarried, he became the only person I had left. He watched over me as I grew up, serving as my eyes and my cane year after year. He even gave up his extraordinary talent for painting to study medicine, all for the sake of my sight. Even after he became one of the most brilliant ophthalmologists in the country, I still could not see. On my 25th birthday, someone he had once been close to won a prestigious art prize. He shut himself inside the study, and I could hear pages rustling behind the door. He told me, his voice carefully even, that he was writing my birthday wishes. I smiled and moved toward him, wanting to kiss his cheek, when words suddenly scrolled across the darkness behind my eyes. "Wake up, you blind little fool. He's tearing every one of his paintings to shreds. On the back of each one, he even wrote 'Go to hell, Elara Langley.' "Stop walking. There's a wire on the floor ahead of you. One more step and you're dead." I froze. Then I smiled again and kept walking. "Stel, Stel, every wish you made for me is going to come true."

I made a deal with the Devil. My soul, in exchange for seven days on earth after I died. The eleventh hour after my death happened to fall on our third wedding anniversary. The moment I walked through the door, he had just come home from another woman's place. He had an anniversary gift waiting for me. A set of sapphires. But the card tucked beside them bore another woman's name. I spotted a pale lavender hair tie in his hand. Once, I would have fought him over a hair tie like that, all the way from the front hall to the study. This time, I said nothing. It was him who froze instead, staring at me like I was a stranger. "You didn't used to be like this. I almost miss the way you used to fall apart over everything." He was right. The old me would have thrown a fit over something as small as him forgetting to cut my steak. But ever since the miscarriage, my heart had been dying by slow degrees. When I found out I was pregnant, I was overjoyed. I wanted him to be the first to know. But I couldn't reach him, no matter how many times I called. I lost the baby. I hemorrhaged. That very afternoon, while I lay on the operating table, a photo of him and that woman hit the entertainment headlines. He never even knew I had carried a child. Now there was only one last thing I wanted from him. To drive me up to the northern coast, and bury me with his own hands. But when he realized I had truly vanished from this world, he came undone.

My boyfriend was probably bad at math because he would always get an extra portion whenever he bought something. When we were supposed to go on dates, he would get three people's worth of vouchers. "Sorry, I didn't read too carefully. How about we ask your bestie to join us?" When it was my birthday, he bought two sets of gifts. "Sorry, I got an extra set. Maybe your bestie can have the extra one?" As time went on, the absurdity became the norm, and I numbly played along. Then, it was time to try out my bridal gown, but Zach Lawson, my boyfriend, stopped me. "This is the bridesmaid's gown. I'm keeping it for your bestie. The gown I designed for you is sitting right there." I looked at the bridesmaid's gown. It was luxurious and covered in small, glittering diamonds. The gown he designed for me was barely more conspicuous than a regular dress. There was even a yellowing bloodstain on the hem of the dress. It was at that moment that I decided to end things. He'd given the only haute couture gown spot to Daisy Green. So, I saw no reason to stay in this relationship anymore. I looked at my phone quietly and texted my mentor, who was in Brundela. "Do you have an opening in your institute for one more researcher?"

On the seventh year after the breakup, I receive a package from Clarence Fraser. All 44 pounds of said package consist of the stacks of chat history I have with him in the past. Soon, Clarence's text appears on my phone screen. "Wanna meet up? I'd like to tell you something." I pause momentarily before responding with a "1". That number signifies rejection. Then, I turn my phone off. After wiping my sweat off with a towel, I pick up another crate of fruits and continue promoting them to the customers loudly, as though nothing has happened. It's been so many years, and I don't know why Clarence decides to text me all of a sudden. Similarly, he doesn't know that I've already become someone else's wife a long time ago.

Growing up, my younger sister Nina was always the one my family loved most. She got the best room, the prettiest dresses, the first apology, and every gentle word my parents had to give. I was the older daughter, so I was expected to give in. Then I met Henry Vale. On the night he proposed, he held my hand and told me he would love me for the rest of his life. For the first time, I thought someone had finally chosen me. I thought I had found true love. Until the day I tried on my wedding dress. Nina said she wanted to come with me and help me choose. When I stepped out of the fitting room, I saw her standing in front of Henry, adjusting his tie like she was the one about to marry him. I was about to say, “Let me do it.” But the stylist had already walked toward her with a smile. “The bride, this way, please.” The photographer took ninety-nine photos that day. Every single one was of my sister and my fiancé. Not one showed me, the actual bride. My mother sat on the sofa and smiled. “Nina looks beautiful in white.” My father nodded. “More like a bride than Jocelyn.” Then the photographer lifted his camera and glanced at me from behind the lens. “Miss, could you move a little? You are blocking the light.” I stepped aside in silence and stood against the wall. In that moment, I finally understood. This wedding did not need me. And if the love Henry once promised me could be handed to someone else so easily, then leaving was the only dignity I had left.

During an avalanche, I risk my life to save my girlfriend, Naomi Sutton. I end up losing a leg and an eye. On the day I'm discharged from the hospital, she tells me, "I've done my part by taking care of you this whole time. There's no way I'll spend the rest of my life with a cripple. You understand why I need to do this, right, Caleb?" I've already resigned myself to a life of constant darkness when Zoey Rivers shows up. She doesn't mind that I'm disabled. She gently heals all of my wounds. Following our decision to get married, I start going through our belongings to prepare for our upcoming move to our new marital home. Unexpectedly, I stumble across Zoey's backup phone in the house. I find a secondary social media account that Zoey has been using to track the moving journey of her sister's battle against a crippling illness. The latest update reads, "I'm about to get married. Once it's official, I'll get him to donate a kidney to my sister at once, and she'll be saved." Posted with the caption is a photo of Zoey with a woman lying on a hospital bed—Naomi. At that very moment, the door opens behind me. "What's the matter, Caleb? Since you're at home, why didn't you answer me when I called for you?"

In the fifth year of my marriage to Raymond Lowe, Lilian Smith, the woman he had never been able to forget, returned. From that moment on, cracks began to form in our marriage. Raymond started breaking his promises. The first time was the day I won a major design award. He had promised to take me out and celebrate. Instead, a single phone call from Lilian was enough to make him leave. The second time was on my birthday. The candles had been lit, and I had not even made a wish yet when Lilian called. Once again, he walked out without hesitation. The third time was Valentine's Day. I sat alone in the private dining room I had reserved, waiting for Raymond for four hours. He never showed up. Later that night, I saw Lilian's post on social media. Raymond was with her, standing on a bridge beneath the stars. The fourth time was our wedding anniversary. That was the night I became the laughingstock of Liberty City. The humiliation was so public that there was not a single person in the city who did not know about it. I sat alone in a nursing home that evening when a message from Lilian appeared on my phone. After reading it, I walked into the operating room without looking back and terminated the pregnancy. In that moment, I also took back the love I had once given Raymond. Raymond, it was only because I loved you that you were able to hurt me again and again. However, the moment I stopped loving you, you became nothing to me.

I was engaged to Silas, Don of the Vance Famiglia, yet in the annual family portrait, I was shoved into the back corner. Standing right beside him was Camilla, his most trusted Capo. He sighed impatiently. "We have plenty of photos together, Scarlett. Missing one won't kill you. You're the future Donna. Stop being so petty." I swallowed my pride and gave up my spot. But my compromise bought me nothing. The necklace meant for me ended up around Camilla's neck. His plus-one to galas became Camilla. His excuse was always the same: "She's a vital part of the syndicate. You shouldn't compete with her." So, I gave him exactly what he wanted. I stopped being petty. I shredded the wedding planner I had poured my heart into, trashed our photos, and left New York for good. And suddenly, the cold, calculating Don was tearing the city apart looking for me.

Eight years into our marriage, my husband was as childish as ever. He loved playing pranks on me, constantly leaving gag gifts around the house. I would just smile, toss them into the storage closet and think nothing of it. A few days later, while deep-cleaning the house, I remembered his latest box and decided to throw it out. But the moment I lifted the lid, a foul, putrid stench hit me. Inside the box lay a severed human hand. Terrified, I collapsed to the floor, my fingers trembling as I dialed 911. When the DNA results came back, the detective's expression was a twisted mix of confusion and horror. "Ma'am, the DNA extracted from the severed limb..." he stammered. "It belongs to Michael Miller."