Lovesick Fool Tragic Love Short Stories & Novels

My father died saving Conrad Nelson, the Don of the Nelson family. Conrad took me in to repay that debt and raised me alongside the three most promising boys in the family. From then on, I was the family's little princess. Those three boys would give me anything I asked for. I loved afternoon tea at the Ritz, so they chartered a private flight just to take me there. To make me smile, they spent three million dollars on a fireworks show. They swore they would protect me with their lives, and I trusted them with everything I had. I thought I'd spend the rest of my life with one of them. Then, during a gang war, they saved Serena Blake, a street flower seller caught in the crossfire. She barely had to do anything. Every day, she brought them a bouquet and a few soft, caring words. Two weeks later, Eli Warren scolded me for the first time. He called me spoiled because I'd thrown out the flowers Serena sent. The other two immediately defended me. "Violet's allergic to pollen! How can you hold that against her?" Eli was Conrad's most trusted advisor, the one who always thought everything through. It was the first time he'd ever taken a side against me. The next day, I walked in on Serena dressing Tristan Cole's wounds. Tristan ran security for the family. He was usually cold and ruthless, but now that hard edge was gone. He sat there and let Serena tend to him. In tears, I went to Christian Hayes, the family heir. He held me tight. "Violet, I'll always be here for you." But on my 18th birthday, Christian got a text from Serena. She said someone was harassing her. He left me without a second thought and ran off to save her. That was the last straw. I went and knocked on the door of Conrad's study. "Don, I'm ready to marry the man in Italy."

My Alpha mate, Leon Worth, brought a breathtaking mermaid into our estate. He named her Nerissa and tended to her every need with painstaking care. That day, the moment Leon stepped out, Nerissa walked right up to me—and placed my Luna Crown on her own head, right in front of my face. "Leon and I have known each other for six months now. He promised me with his own mouth—he'd take care of me for life." She traced a finger along the crown's rim, her smile poised. "I've made up my mind—I'm willing to drink the potion for him. I'll give up my tail. Delores, step aside and hand over the Luna position. It'll save everyone the humiliation in the end." I didn't argue with her. I just waited for Leon to come back and explain. But when he finally returned, he didn't even bother to take that crown off Nerissa's head. He left me standing there like I didn't exist, while he knelt beside her, gently cleaning her scales, his voice low and tender—like he was handling something fragile, something precious: "Just three more days. I'll get you a better heated pool." The way he looked at her—I'd seen that look for seven years. Now, it belonged to someone else. I turned and walked away. I didn't look back. My flight had barely broken through the clouds when my phone lit up. A message from Leon flashed across the screen: "Delores, don't go. I did all of this—to save you!"

Loving Murphy Townsend was a secret Gemma Kirk could never share. Murphy was not just anyone—he was her uncle. She was the cherished rose he nurtured, but he was the forbidden love she could never confess to.

Vampires only ever took one mate in their lifetime. And yet, my vampire husband refused to acknowledge me—his human wife, bound to him through an arranged marriage. On the night of our tenth wedding anniversary, Jason brought another woman into my bed. She was wearing my nightgown. She was carrying his child. And in my hand, I held a pregnancy test I'd just had confirmed. "Be reasonable, Elena. Jessica just conceived my child. She needs me." "Go sleep in the guest room. I'm sorry for the inconvenience." My husband shielded the other woman, his smile polished and gentlemanly, though his eyes held the same icy indifference they always did. When he saw me frozen in the doorway, Jason assumed I was going to do what I always did. Scream. Cry. Demand to know why he kept doing this to me. But he didn't know—this time was different. The ten-year contract had come due, and I was finally leaving him for good.

For their fifth wedding anniversary, Xavier Parker gave Riley Quinn a gift: he forced 999 bottles of hard liquor down her throat. "Xavier, I really can't drink anymore..." Riley begged, her voice hoarse. He let out a cold laugh and leaned over her. "Your parents loved drinking so much they drove drunk and killed my entire family. You're their daughter. You must love drinking just as much." "I'm sorry." Riley's eyes reddened with despair. She had apologized countless times, so often that the words had become second nature. "But my parents already died to atone for that accident. Isn't that... enough?"

My Alpha mate has canceled our carefully planned honeymoon trips fourteen times for his Omega secretary. The first time, because of the secretary's phone call about "lost territorial maps," he didn't hesitate to abandon me at a strange Nordic airport. The second time, because of the secretary's plea for help, he drove back alone to the pack's core territory, leaving me alone in the dangerous hunting grounds. For four years, I carefully planned fourteen honeymoon trips, but each time my mate would abandon me to choose to accompany his Omega secretary. Finally, I stopped insisting and decided to give up this mating relationship that was never firmly chosen. But when I joined the Alpha Council's secret research project and decided to leave forever, he cried and searched the whole world for me.

For the 999th time, the system in my head issues a warning: [Warning! Your infatuation level has exceeded the safe limit! If you do not leave Eleanor Hayes within one hour, you will be erased!] I look up to find my CEO wife, Eleanor, standing protectively in front of her secretary, Charles Beaumont, in the hospital. He has falsely accused me of stealing his paintings, and she believes him without question. Right in front of me, she slashes the paintings I have spent three years creating and then orders me to apologize to Charles. "You stole Charles' paintings in the first place," she says coldly. "Everything I've done is to make it up to him. All you have to do is apologize. What's so hard about that?" I stare at her in silence as she shields Charles from me. I take a last glance at the paintings I have spent three years creating, then calmly speak to the system in my head. "If this obsession with her is what's causing the problem, then I want the highest level of authorization. Remove all the love I have for her. Immediately." The system replies, "Authorization request received." One hour later, I am cleared to leave the hospital. Eleanor is waiting outside. The moment she sees me, she blocks the door and grabs me, her eyes burning with anger. "Daniel, what kind of game are you playing now?" I look at her calmly. There is none of the anger, hurt, or love I once would have felt. Then I say evenly, "Ma'am, you've unlawfully assaulted me. Would you like me to call the police?"

My girlfriend, Tasha, was a hopeless romantic, hooked on using a breakup to test how much I love her. The first time, she threatened to kill herself when I was in the middle of defending my thesis. She pushed me to turn down a six-figure job offer, so I’d spend the day at the beach with her. Later, Tasha told me, “I just wanted to know whether your job or I meant more to you.” The second time, she showed up at my father’s funeral, arm in arm with her guy best friend, Jesse. She demanded a public apology, all because I didn’t answer her call the day before. “I was only testing your emotional stability. Why are you so upset?” The third time came in the fifth year of us dating. She rented a massive screen downtown and broadcast a video of her kissing Jesse. Tasha made a post on her social media. “If he hikes to the top of Mount Rainier and proposes to me, I’ll forgive him.” Her friend group was already betting on the hours it would take me to reach the summit in tears. Too bad they were all wrong. I was done proving myself in Tasha’s so-called tests of love.

I used to be the most promising composer of my generation. But while I was working on my latest piece, my husband Charles Lambert's childhood friend destroyed everything I had. She slashed my face, stole my compositions, and set fire to my house—leaving me to burn alive alongside the kitten I'd just adopted. Then, as if my death were just a spark for her success, she posted my compositions online, claiming I'd plagiarized her. And people believed her. Everyone did. Strangers on the internet sneered and spat my name, and my own husband, Charles, chose to believe her over me. Even the International Musical Society rescinded my award and handed it to her without a second thought. My students, who once followed me loyally, were now fawning over her. I became the laughingstock of the entire internet—mocked, discredited, erased. It wasn't until a week later, when someone stumbled upon the charred remains of my lakeside studio, that they found what was left of me.

In our third year of marriage, Jillian Holt changed the name she had saved my number under. It wasn't "Dear" anymore. It was "7:00 pm to 7:30 pm". She said she set aside only half an hour a day for personal matters. If I messaged her a minute early, she wouldn't reply. If the text was even a minute late, she wouldn't reply either. Once, I had a fever of 102.2°F and was hooked up to an IV at the hospital. I called her seven times. At 7:00 pm, she called me back right on time. "You have 29 minutes left. Get to the point." I asked hoarsely if she could come pick me up. She glanced at her schedule. "29 minutes isn't enough for a round trip. Get a cab yourself." I had always thought she was just too busy with work, so I never dared waste a second of that half hour each night. I would write down what I wanted to say ahead of time and keep my complaints brief. Then, one night at 1:00 am, a clap of thunder woke me up. No one was beside me. In the living room, Jillian was leaning against the couch, revising a proposal for her project manager, Jesse Cohen. On the screen, Jesse chuckled. "Ms. Holt, it's already 1:00 am. Am I taking up too much of your time?" Jillian let out a soft laugh. "When have I ever kept track of the time when you needed me?" Standing behind the door, I suddenly remembered knocking on her study door three hours earlier. I was doubled over with stomach pain. She had said, "You've used up your time for today." I returned to my room and turned off the alarm I had set on my phone for 6:59 pm every day. At 7:00 pm the next day, Jillian didn't get a message from me for the first time.

When Stella Everette's junior went looking for death again, I knew she would come to peel off my skin next. It had been this way for a hundred years. Her beloved, Louie Linfield, kept throwing himself into the demon cave, trying to die for the lover he had lost there. Every time, Stella saved him and used the healthy skin from my body to replace his flesh that was burned away by the primordial flames. The skin on my body had been replaced repeatedly. There wasn't a single patch of untouched skin left. Only my face still looked somewhat like it had before. But this time, Louie burned half his face. When Stella locked me in the demon realm's prison and used torture tools to tear the skin from my entire face, there wasn't a trace of warmth in her eyes. "Lucian, Louie is my mentor's only blood relative left, and he once saved my life. You're my husband. Isn't it only right for you to help me?" She hurried away with my blood-soaked skin, leaving me alone in the lightless prison. She had forgotten that I had lost all my demonic power. I could no longer grow new skin, and I couldn't withstand the corrosive demonic energy in this place. The freezing demonic energy pierced through my entire body, tearing into what little flesh I had left. With the last bit of strength I had, I took the beaded bracelet from my wrist and pressed it against my chest. Whispering, I called out to my mentor, "I want to go home."

Five years ago, I threw Jase Prescott out of my mansion like a dog. Five years later, he'd become a renowned professor, while I'd been told my illness was incurable. He swirled the red wine in his glass, his gaze icy. "Why aren't you out making the big bucks, Audrey? What made you switch careers and start drinking with men for money?" Bitterness rose in my throat. I forced a smile. "Can't be helped. I'm buried in debt. Jase, would you be generous enough to lend me a hundred thousand?" He splashed the red wine across my face. "Same old story." His voice was as sharp as a blade. "You're still rotten with greed." Looking at the way he hated me to the core, I finally breathed a sigh of relief. Thank God. He had no idea that the heart beating in his chest was mine.

My girlfriend, Quinn Simmons, my best friend, Seth Johnson, and I were one the outs. When I apologized to Quinn, she just fingered her nails. Then I tried to talk to Seth. He scrolled through his phone and turned a deaf ear to me. I was stuck between a rock and a hard place. I begged for their forgiveness, but my efforts were fruitless. In high school, Quinn and Seth asked me which electives I intended to take. Seth gave me the cold shoulder for a whole month after I chose the same electives as Quinn. Seth threw the 20 apology letters that I wrote for him into the trash, saying, "I don't really care. You two are a couple. I'm not forcing you to choose the same electives with me." During our university days, both Quinn and Seth rented places off campus and asked me to move in with them. When I chose Seth, Quinn chased me out of her place with a frosty expression, saying, “Go find your new roommate. Just leave me alone.” Quinn's disregard lasted two months. I kept chasing after her, trying to coax her the whole time. One day, I accidentally tumbled down the stairs. My whole body shook as I clutched my injured leg, but Quinn didn’t even spare me a single glance. She just stepped over me. Ten minutes ago, we were choosing a movie to watch. Quinn wanted to watch a sci-fi film, while Seth wanted to watch a romance movie. They asked me to choose again. In the end, after I chose a comedy, they spent the entire time ignoring me and chatting among themselves. "I want to watch a romance movie," Seth said while looking at Quinn. "It's fine if you don't." Quinn scoffed. "Can you watch something logical for once? What's so interesting about a romance movie anyway?" As Seth rolled his eyes, a flash of panic flickered across Quinn's eyes. She sighed and said, "Fine. We'll watch whatever you want to watch." I stood rooted to the spot, clutching the three tickets for the comedy movie. Suddenly, I didn't feel like watching the movie anymore.

For the nine hundred and ninety-ninth time, the system in my mind warned me. [Warning! The lovesick part of your brain is highly active! If you refuse to leave John Miller, you’ll die an hour later!] I looked at my husband. He was scolding me for the sake of his secretary, who was his first love. I once burned down all of my award-winning drawings just because he disliked them. I calmly gave the system in my brain an order. “Since the cause of the malfunction is the lovesick portion of my brain, I hereby grant you the highest authority to remove it. Do the surgery now!” An hour later, John stopped me at the door of the ward. His eyes were bloodshot. “Grace Stone, what are you trying to pull?” I raised my head and watched him coldly and calmly. “Mister, you blocked the light. Based on an analysis, this constitutes an illegal detention. Do you need my help calling the cops?”

The biggest laughingstock at the city's most exclusive society gala is none other than Camille Ellery's boy toy, who completely loses his mind over his love for her. Ansel Wells is devastatingly handsome, with an air of innate nobility. Yet here he is, groveling on the floor in utter humiliation. "Ms. Ellery, being by your side and serving you for the past three years has been my greatest privilege. I'm willing to do anything for you. Just please, don't ever leave me." His slightly husky voice rings out across the entire ballroom. After a brief moment of stunned silence, Camille's girlfriends all burst into laughter, clearly envious. "As expected of Camille. Only you could turn a man this gorgeous into a shameless lapdog!" "But we've all seen how hopelessly devoted he's been to you these past three years. When are you finally going to make it official?" "If you don't want to give him an official title, why don't you lend him to me for a bit of fun?" Camille holds a glass of champagne, swirling it with lazy indifference as a soft laugh slips from her lips. "I'd be happy to lend him out, but you'd have to ask whether he's willing. As for making it official?" She scoffs. "Sure, he's gorgeous and all, but there's no soul behind those pretty eyes." As everyone showers her with compliments for her irresistible charm, her gaze cuts straight across the ballroom and locks onto Stellan Loxley, who's dressed as a waiter.

This was the eighteenth time I received photos of Autumn cheating on me. With practiced ease, I bought them all and had them wiped. On the night of our engagement, I stepped forward to stop her as she prepared to leave. “Can you stay tonight?” She frowned. “I don’t like men who are too clingy.” The next day, a video of her playing dress-up in a wedding gown with another man spread like wildfire across the city. In this gamble called love, I had lost everything. Just then, my childhood friend called, her voice bright with laughter. “Mr. Dunn, isn’t it about time you came back and married me?”

For ten years, he remained tangled up with her, and everyone in their circle laughed at him for being her forever backup plan. She had once said, “The housekeeper’s son? He’s fun to mess around with, but marry him? Not a chance.” No one noticed him standing just outside the door. With his fists clenched and his eyes burning red, he turned and walked away. That very day, he married someone else.

I used to think the Moon Goddess had given me three mates to choose from. Cyrus Vance was sharp-tongued, but he was always the first to come running when I got hurt. Draven Locke was quiet, but he would guard my door late into the night. Knox Hollis was gentle. He once promised to stay by my side for the rest of his life. They were the strongest warriors of the Frostmoon pack. And I was the Alpha's only daughter. From the day I was born, they protected and spoiled me as if I were their most precious treasure. Then Nara came into our lives. She had no family or allies, and she brought along a pup everyone shunned. All she had to do was show up, and suddenly, I was invisible. They said that aside from being the Alpha's daughter, I had nothing going for me. Nara, on the other hand, was strong and independent, and far more worth following. Cyrus stopped watching over me. Instead, he started protecting Nara, even treating me coldly for the first time because of her. Draven stopped coming to my door, too. To protect Nara and her pup, he volunteered for a near-suicidal mission in rogue territory. And Knox was the one who changed the most. He stopped answering when I called for him, and then, right to my face, he announced his decision. "I'm going to mark Nara." He said I had a father, a pack, and countless wolves to choose from. He said I wouldn't really lose anything. If that was how they felt, I would give them what they wanted. The night before the marking ceremony Cyrus had planned for Nara, I went to my father's office. "I'm willing to form a mating alliance with the Northern Snow Wolf Pack."

One of Ethan Sterling's closest friends got drunk and humiliated me. Called me a nobody orphan who married above her station, said I'd never be accepted by the Sterlings, that I wasn't fit to sit at their table. Ethan smashed a bottle over the man's head. He announced in front of everyone that if anyone ever disrespected me again, he'd make them pay. When I was pregnant and the morning sickness was so brutal I couldn't keep anything down, he went and scheduled a vasectomy. He didn't want me to suffer through another pregnancy. This was a man who loved me like I was his whole world. And yet — when I was lying on the operating table about to give birth, he was standing right in front of me with his arms around Iris, putting on a show for anyone watching. Iris was the daughter of another old-money family and she'd donated bone marrow to save Ethan's mother's life. The night before her own engagement, her fiance betrayed her, and the trauma wiped her memory clean. Now the only thing she knew for certain was that Ethan Sterling was her husband. In her world, I was the homewrecker — the scheming woman using the bastard in her belly to force her husband into a divorce. Ethan promised me it was all an act. Just repaying the debt for his mother's life. Once Iris recovered, he'd walk away from her immediately. But when I picked up the surgical consent form for him to sign, and his first instinct was to pull Iris behind him — to shield her — I knew. His heart had already drifted off course. The fairy tale of a Cinderella marrying into high society was over. Time to wake up.

I have been dating my manager boyfriend, Caleb Frost, for five years. He calls off our wedding 52 times for Gina Lowe, an aspiring actress on the set. On the day I am ready to give up on him and walk away, Gina falsely accuses me of using expired makeup on her that caused an allergic reaction. So Caleb shoves me into a sealed cellar and locks me inside. As he pushes me down, his face is twisted in disgust. "It's one thing to pick on Gina, but to use expired makeup on her and cause an allergy? Do you know how important an artist's face is? "Stay down there and think about your wrongdoings." With that, he drags the crying Gina to the hospital. The cellar's air vent is blocked. Every breath I take grows harder until I suffocate to death inside. Three days later, Caleb remembers me only after attending a gathering with Gina. But little does he know, I am already dead from the lack of oxygen in that dark cellar.