Tragic Love Lovers Reunion Short Stories & Novels

After Lilith died, my fated mate Darian hated me. "If it weren't for you, Lilith would still be alive. Why couldn't it have been you instead?" So he played the loving husband in public. And tortured me in secret. Until I finally died. I was reborn — back to before Lilith's death. This time, I wouldn't cling to Darian. I'd let him have Lilith. When he dropped my hand at my birthday ball and walked toward Lilith, I didn't beg. When he said my scent in the house made him sick, I moved out immediately. When he told me to stop standing between him and his true love, I severed the mate bond without a word and turned to another man. Later, I was walking down the street hand in hand with my new mate. Darian blocked our path like a man possessed, eyes rimmed red: "Grace, come back with me. I can forgive your little joke."

As Gamma of the Creed Pack, I'd held the Northern Border alone for three full years. Every time I called in to ask when I could come home, my mate — the Alpha of Creed — picked up the phone himself. He told me the rogues weren't cleared. He told me the rival packs were still circling. He said, "Nora. One more year. Once we have completely eliminated all our enemies, I will hold the grandest mating ceremony for you. I swear it on the Moon." I believed him. When I dragged myself out of a pile of dead rogues with a silver arrowhead still lodged an inch from my heart, bleeding too fast for a medevac, my warriors had to shift and run me back in wolf form all the way to Creed territory. The moment we crossed the border, I saw fairy lights strung from every streetlamp along the road to the pack house. Pack wolves on the sidewalks were talking loud, smiling at each other. "The Alpha's Mating Ceremony is tonight. He's taking the Elder's daughter as Luna. Three years of peace on the border. It's a good time to be Creed." I coughed dark blood into the fur on the back of my warrior's neck and laughed, short and bitter. He hadn't needed me holding the border. He just hadn't wanted me home.

Three years ago, I've pushed my boyfriend, Niccolo Moretti, into the sea even though he doesn't know how to swim. Then, I leave the scene with my new beau. Niccolo is lucky enough to survive the ordeal. After he gets saved by the Greco family, he's quick to get betrothed to the principessa of the family, Bianca Greco. Everyone claims that I'm a heartless woman who's capable of killing her ex-boyfriend just to be with her new lover. But what they don't know is that I've gotten diagnosed with anterograde amnesia. It feels as though there's an eraser that has erased everything about Niccolo in my mind. Three years later, Niccolo and Bianca bump into me at a restaurant. He gazes at me haughtily, though immense hatred can be seen burning in his eyes. "Elena Mancuso, when you pushed me into the sea and left with another man, did you ever think that your family would get annihilated one day, leaving you without any protection? "To think that the principessa of the Mancuso family is now working at a restaurant as a pathetic waitress!" I don't remember having met the man in front of me at all. "Did you mistake me for someone else, sir?" Niccolo continues to mock me. "Oh, so now you're acting, huh? Fine, we'll go along with your performance. Bring me the menu." Upon hearing that the customers want to dine in this restaurant, I glance at the memo app on my phone before passing a menu to them as per the instructions.

I’m the Chief Counsel for Donatello Vexille, the Godfather of the Vexille family. I’m also his secret wife. At night, he’d pull me close, take me with a ragged violence, leaving his marks on me, a brutal claim I couldn’t refuse. But by day, I was just his lawyer. All he had for me were cold commands. We lived like that for three years. I decided I was done. But he couldn’t know. When I handed him the divorce papers, disguised as a bill of lading, and he signed his name, a breath I didn’t know I was holding finally escaped me. I chased him for seven years and was married to him for three. Whatever was left of my heart finally flatlined. I knew I could never have his. Because it already belonged to someone else: Angelina, his underboss’s sister. He remembered her favorite restaurant. He got blind drunk with joy when she filed for divorce. He even posted his personal guards outside her door. Those were honors I never had. So I tricked him into signing the papers, packed my things, and vanished. What I didn't expect was what he did after I left. He put a king's ransom on my location, and even announced to the whole world that I was his wife.

After his first love died, Oscar hated me for ten years. I tried everything to soften him. Nothing worked. "If you really want to please me, go die." The words cut deep. But when the riot came, he threw himself in front of me and was hacked down where he stood. He stared at me as he bled out. "If only… my fated mate hadn't been you." At his funeral, his parents wept. "We should have let him be with Catherine. We forced him to marry her, all because of that damn prophecy." Windvale Pack lived by prophecy. Years ago, the Seer had foretold that if Oscar didn't take his fated mate as his bond-mate, disaster would fall on the pack. I was that fated mate. But now, everyone wished I never had been. Even me. I was driven from the funeral, hollow. Then the Moon Goddess descended. She offered me a chance—ten years back—on two conditions. I would not become Oscar's mate. I would prevent Catherine's death. I said yes without thinking.

At our high school reunion, my ex announced he was getting married. In the middle of the congratulations, someone piped up. “Hey, where’s Wren tonight? She didn’t show?” The whole room cracked up. “Wren? Probably still earning her keep in some rich guy’s bed.” “She dumped James for money, and now look at him. He’s the wealthiest guy in New York. Bet she’s kicking herself.” Someone snickered. “I heard the guy’s some fat old man. God, how does she even stomach it.” I broke up with James Thorne the year he loved me the most, and walked straight into the arms of another man, a man with money. Now he had a new girlfriend, he’d taken over Thorne Capital, and he was one of New York’s most talked-about young executives. He’d organized this reunion because he couldn’t wait to show off how good his life had turned out. “Enough. Drop it.” In the middle of the laughter, James spoke up. “I have a better life now. Whether Wren is dead or alive has nothing to do with me anymore.” “What if she really were dead?” The room went silent.

My fiancé of eight years moved in with the junior he was mentoring. She was young, pretty, knew how to play helpless, and knew exactly what she was doing. He'd down every toast meant for her—the same nights he let me get talked into drinking until I nearly died. He sat with her through her depression, fetched her water, fed her by hand. And me? I was alone in a hospital bed, burning with a 104-degree fever. He set her up on a pedestal and never noticed I'd been ground into the dirt. The day they discharged me, I didn't scream. I didn't fall apart. I went home, quietly packed a suitcase, and burned every memory that had his name on it. Later I heard the famous CEO of Washington Group showed up at his fiancée's door with millions of dollars in gifts. He found an empty apartment. And he lost his mind.

I was born into the Valerie family, with the noble blood that could give a vampire a powerful hybrid heir. I was meant to marry Ethan, heir to the Prince. But the night before the engagement, his younger brother Adrian knelt in the rain in front of me. “Elena, I’d give up everything.” “I love you. You’re all I want.” So I broke the engagement, let my family disown me, and married him without a backward glance. Then I got pregnant. He started keeping me at arm’s length, finding reasons not to touch me, not even willing to stay in the same room as me. Until the night I heard him tell his men: “Once Elena has the baby, we’ll hand it over to Ethan and Sophia.” “Sophia’s health is fragile. I can’t bear to put her through a pregnancy.” That was when I finally understood. Adrian had never loved me. He’d married me only to free up the place beside Ethan for my cousin Sophia. Even the child I’d struggled so hard to carry had already been promised away to the woman he truly loved. I rested a hand on my belly and called my father. “Dad, I was wrong about him.” Adrian thought I’d stay trapped in his web of lies forever. He had no idea. Two months from now, I would vanish from his world for good.

In my previous life, I stood by Robert's side as he grew from the Alpha of a weak, remote pack into the undisputed king of the werewolf world. We raised a child together, and I thought I'd finally found a home that could shelter me from all storms. But when I was bedridden with illness, he couldn't wait to take the child and go find his one true love: my little sister, Bellis. And then came the moment that shattered everything — the child I had treasured with my whole heart calling Bellis "Mom" without a second's hesitation. That was when I finally understood. All those years, I had been living inside a lie — a total, elaborate lie. When I opened my eyes again, I had been reborn, right back to my marking ceremony with Robert. This time, standing at that crossroads, under the gaze of all those guests with their warm, oblivious smiles, I would make a very different choice. What I didn't know yet was that the truth sometimes hides in the small, ordinary moments of life — not in what other people tell you.

Adrian Vance and I had been secretly married for ten years, and I had always been his perfect wife. He was the president of a hospital. But lately he'd fallen in love with playing broke. I asked him to pick up blackberries; he came home with bananas and a sad little story about money. I needed a ride to my own surgery; he drove me there rattling along in a beat-up van, because the van fit the part. And when our daughter was dying and the one person who could save her was him, he looked a stranger in the eye and swore he was nobody, just an assistant, certainly not the hospital's president. That was the moment it finally landed. He hadn't drifted into an affair on a whim. He had chosen, with his whole heart, to walk away from his wife and his child. Fine. I'd take our daughter and clear the way for his great love.

Adrian Vance, heir to the Vance family, and I were together for three years. When we broke up, it got ugly. At the height of everything we had, I took a million dollars from his father and got rid of our child. He was outside the operating room, crying like a little kid. "Eve, I'm begging you, don't be this cruel. Don't throw away our love, don't throw away our baby..." I smiled, cold as ice, my nails digging into my palm. "You fool. Just go. The thought of carrying your child makes me sick." Adrian held back his tears until the corners of his eyes went red, and finally he let go of my wrist. Later, Adrian became the Don. We met again when I was at my lowest. It was his engagement party. The blonde standing at his side was about to become his noble Donna. And there I was, on the floor at his feet, begging him for a little money. He asked if I regretted it. I didn't regret a thing. He still didn't know that I'd given birth to that child and raised him. And now, that boy is dying.

I came to Chicago with my friend to visit her boyfriend. Three days in, her boyfriend said he'd show us "something fun." The car kept driving—farther and farther out. By the time we realized something was wrong, we were locked inside an abandoned factory. My friend was gone. Her boyfriend shoved me into a room and threw me a line: "Your friend sold you for twenty grand. Stay put and wait for arrangements." I scanned the room. A few men in black suits leaned against the doorway. Silver-gray pins on their chests. Shield-shaped. Dark red thorns. An inverted dagger. The family crest of Caleb Richardson—don of the New York mafia. I was held captive by him for three years. I barely escaped with my life— And now I've been handed right back to him.

When I'm dragged onto the auction stage, my ex-boyfriend, Clifford Mitchell, is sitting among the audience. He has his arm around Selene Graham, the woman who framed my father and sent him to prison back then. He leisurely raises his paddle. "A hundred million dollars. I want her to strip naked in public and play that video from back then." The compromising photos he coaxed me into taking when I was 18 instantly appear on the massive screen, and the whole venue bursts into laughter. I bite down hard on my lip and, with trembling hands, slowly undo my buttons to cover the cost of my son Brooke Sullivan's surgery tomorrow. Just then, Brooke bursts in. His head's covered in blood as he throws his arms around Clifford's leg. "You big bully! Don't hurt my mommy! You can have my kidney, so please save my mommy!" Staring at the face that is practically identical to his own, Clifford loses his composure for the very first time. "Kyra, this child—" I slap him hard across the face, a bitter smile on my lips. "Don't you think I'm filthy, Mr. Mitchell? He's just a bastard child. I wouldn't want to sully your precious eyes."