เรื่องสั้นและนิยายในฉากTragic Love Marriage

I spent decades taking care of my kid and the elderly. I ignored my stomach pain until it turned into cancer. By the end, it had eaten me alive. Before I died, I went back to my old family home to sort through my stuff. That's when I found Danny's diary. My dead husband's diary. Hidden for fifteen years. I carefully flipped through it until I reached the last page. [Some loves are worth dying for. Alicia, I'm coming with you.] The diary never mentioned me. Not once. Page after page, it was all Alicia. That was when I learned Danny hadn't died in an accident. He and Alicia Doyle—the woman he never got over—had chosen to die together. I sank onto a chair and stared at his framed photo. "Danny Caldwell, if you loved her that much, did you regret marrying me?" Blood filled my throat. I threw his picture to the floor. "Because I regret marrying you." When I opened my eyes again, I was back in the past. This time, I refused to rot in a loveless marriage. I walked out and never looked back. He smirked and told his friends, "She'll crawl back. Bet she won't last three hours." But three hours passed. Then three days. Then three months. I never came back. Later, he asked when I'd return to him. My answer was simple. "Never."

My fiancé hated anything that felt like a hassle. In the five years we dated, I always chose where we went. His only job was to have his driver take him there. For birthdays and anniversaries, he gave me the same Barbie-pink lipstick every time. When we started planning our wedding, nothing changed. I tried to go over the guest list with him, but he said it was too much trouble and couldn't be bothered to check it carefully. Even when it came to our engagement photos, he complained that the shoot would take too long, so we only did one basic package. Today, I came to the wedding planning studio alone to give final approval on the arrangements. As the planner, Claire Bennett, pulled up the renderings, she chatted casually with me. "You know, a while back, we had a gentleman come in who was incredibly meticulous about everything. "He personally sampled more than twenty different candies just for the wedding favors. The bride doesn't like sweets, so he even checked the sugar content of every single one." Claire smiled and went on. "Funny coincidence, too. He has the same last name as your fiancé, Sutton. And just like your fiancé, he doesn't like roses." The tip of my pen froze against the paper. Claire didn't notice anything unusual. She looked toward the entrance with a smile. "Look, Mr. Sutton is here again. "This time, he wants to add an outdoor fireworks display because he's worried the bride will feel cooped up indoors." I followed her gaze. Yale Sutton pushed open the door and walked in. All the disappointment that had piled up again and again, along with the shock of this moment, came crashing down on me at once. So he wasn't afraid of trouble. He just wasn't willing to go to any trouble for me. If his heart wasn't with me, then there was no reason to keep holding on. This relationship had run its course.

In the most dangerous seventh month of my twin pregnancy, Adrian invited friends over and threw a welcome-home dinner for Vivian, who had just returned to the country. During a round of truth or dare, someone asked him, "If Serena and Vivian both fell into the water and there was only one life jacket, who would you give it to?" I was in the nursery folding baby clothes when I heard his answer come without a moment's hesitation. "Vivi. Serena's tough. She can swim back on her own." My mother chimed in, "Rena grew up in the countryside. She's tough as nails. But Vivi is delicate. She can't handle that kind of scare." Then my brother, the one I had poured everything into putting through school, laughed too. "My sister does whatever Adrian tells her. Forget a life jacket. You could ask her to donate both kidneys to Vivian and she wouldn't dare say a word." The room went quiet around me, with nothing but the steady thud of kicks against my palm. They didn't know that the doctor had issued a critical-condition notice for severe preeclampsia just the day before: At any moment, my placenta could separate, I could hemorrhage into my brain, or all three of us could die. I needed to be admitted immediately to terminate the pregnancy. That morning, I had brought the diagnosis to Adrian and begged him to take me to the hospital. He had barely glanced at it before frowning and saying, "Vivi's coming home today. Don't ruin the mood with some unlikely complication." Ten years of devotion, and all I got in return was "tough as nails." I signed the divorce papers, uploaded the recording to the cloud, and called the private hospital. "Send an ambulance. I need an emergency C-section. Now." Since they all thought my life was worthless, I would take my two children and walk out of their precious world forever.

On the day we were supposed to get our marriage license, the groom's name was swapped out. The woman my boyfriend was now promised to—the pampered mafia princess nestled in his arms—looked at me with a triumphant smile. "Isn't it perfect?" she sneered. "A fraud of a bride for a fake heir. What a match." I ignored her and turned to the man I loved. This was the man who endured three days of brutal punishment just for the right to marry me, when the Rossi family first acknowledged him as their true heir. Now, he just nodded along with her. "Don't be so dramatic. It's a joke. You're not actually mad, are you? It's just a piece of paper. Once Sienna's had her fun, you two get a divorce, and then it'll be our turn. I promise." I smiled. Then I turned and walked straight to the so-called "fake" heir. "The marriage license is filed, honey," I said. "Let's go plan our real wedding."

After I marry Yannick Harker, I become the laughingstock of Grisport. They call me the "Voucher Wife". Whether it is doctor's visits, meals, or even a pack of sanitary pads… I can only pay for them with vouchers that are only redeemable at designated stores. The Harkers impose an unwritten rule—every expense I incur must be approved by the female butler, Tracy Swain. The vouchers bearing her personal seal become my only source of money. On our wedding anniversary, I'm injured in a car accident and end up covered in cuts and bruises. But when I try to pay my medical bill, I'm told that every medical voucher I have is invalid. With nowhere else to turn, I ask Yannick for help, only to be met with his impatient refusal. He sneers, "You need money? Isn't the 200 thousand dollars in vouchers you get every month enough for you? Or is one of your relatives waiting in the operating room waiting to undergo surgery again? "Colette Skelton, you once put a price tag on yourself and sold yourself into the Harker family. But now, you're not even worth that much anymore." I know Yannick hates me. He hates me for demanding an extra one million dollars at our wedding. That has made him the laughingstock of the entire city for marrying a gold digger. So, Yannick cancels all my bank cards and cuts off every job opportunity I have. With those vouchers, he humiliates me openly without the slightest attempt to hide his overbearing ways. The glaring lights of the emergency room make my eyes sting until tears form. With the last valid voucher I have left, I exchange it for an abortion procedure. Later, Yannick finds me like a man possessed. With bloodshot eyes, he demands to know why. I calmly slide the remaining vouchers across the table to him. "Here's your 200 thousand dollars in vouchers. Yannick, I've settled my debt to you. From now on, we owe each other nothing."

My CEO wife has a habit of rewarding top-performing employees with a private dinner. After seven years of being secretly married to her, I finally pushed myself to the limit—working around the clock for an entire month, nearly coughing up blood—just to land the number-one spot and finally earn that public dinner date with my own wife. But Alexia gave the spot to an intern instead. "Caleb just joined the team. He needs some motivation and encouragement. As my husband, you need to be understanding. Next time, if you close over ten million in sales, I'll definitely give you the spot—and I'll even throw in a diamond wedding ring worth a million." For the sake of the company and our marriage, I let it slide. Then I closed a ten-million-dollar deal and showed up at the restaurant we'd agreed on. She never came. No calls, no texts. I was about to head back to the office to find her when I saw Caleb's post on social media: a candlelit dinner with my wife, and on his ring finger—the very ring she'd promised me. His caption read: [Family keeps asking when I'm getting married? Don't worry—my girlfriend, the CEO, showed up with a ring to save the day.] Coworkers flooded the comments with excitement. I calmly left a comment of my own. My wife, who had been MIA for six hours, immediately called me in a panic. "Don't get the wrong idea! It was just a dare—he lost a game, that's all. You're still my husband. I just loaned him the ring for a minute. Once the game's over, I'll get it right back to you." But I don't want the ring or her anymore. "Don't bother. Let's get a divorce."

On the day I caught my fiancé, Henry Smith, in our bed with my adopted sister, Stacy Ellis, I slipped into severe depression and took 30 sleeping pills. After I was saved, my parents, Harold and Karen Ellis, told me calmly that Stacy had been diagnosed with a terminal illness and only had three months to live. It was up to me if I wanted to forgive them. Henry teared up as he begged me, "It doesn't matter if you're willing to forgive. I'll keep my promise to give you a wedding in a month." When I saw how much he regretted what he did, I gave in to him. That ended when I came across a private conversation on my brother's phone. His name was Toby Ellis, and he was a doctor. Stacy had sent him a voice note, and she could be heard laughing daintily. "You're so smart, forging that medical report to trick that crazy woman, Toby." My hands were trembling when I confronted my family with the conversation. However, Toby remained silent and smoked his cigarette while my parents looked tired as they blamed me instead. "You're too emotionally fragile. We wouldn't have gone so far as to lie to you if we hadn't been afraid that you'd try to kill yourself again." Henry's eyes were filled with hate as he shielded Stacy behind him. "Can't you just be a little more accepting? Are you really determined to see your family all apart?" I watched the man I loved and my family make demands for me to give in to Stacy. I swallowed hard, tasting blood. In the end, I smiled calmly. They were willing to go as far as to claim that Stacy was suffering from a terminal illness just to protect her. All the while, they were unaware that my severe depression was real. It was also true that somatization was causing many of my organs to fail. I no longer wanted this family, especially when I would not be surviving past this winter.

After leaving Clark Stane, I married a billionaire. Just recently, he transferred all his personal assets to me. I tried saying no, but I could not reject his sincerity. He claimed that love was where money went. He wanted to give me the confidence not to rely on anyone for help. Even the asset transfer itself was to happen in Atila City, my hometown. Feeling resigned, I walked into the largest law firm in Atila City. Just as I was about to state the name I had used when I made my reservation, I suddenly heard annoyingly familiar mocking words. “Hey, aren’t you Yvonne? You’re the one who chased after Clark, weren’t you? Unfortunately for you, he’s engaged now.”

Half a year into my death, my wife, Serena Beckett, wants me to donate my kidney to William Clark, her heavily ill first love. Serena smashes my tombstone like a madwoman in the graveyard. Then, she kicks the tokens aside. "He's dead? What sort of sick joke is this? Jason Shaw is a coward! He definitely doesn't have the guts to die! "I think he just doesn't want to save William's life! To think that he actually roped you guys into putting up this act just to pretend that he's actually dead!" Serena is furious, to say the least. The graveyard's staff members are so frightened that they dare not speak up at all. A newly-recruited staff member finally muster the courage to say something. "Ma'am, Mr. Shaw really is dead. Apparently, he died in the donation surgery that had taken place half a year ago… He—" "Shut up!" Serena slaps him while cutting him off. "You really think I'll believe that bullshit? Tell him that if he doesn't show his face in three days, his little sister can forget about getting off the surgical table alive! I mean what I said!" With a dark expression, Serena turns on her heel and leaves angrily afterward. But the staff member looks toward another tombstone not far away. Then, he lets out a heavy sigh. "It's a shame that his sister has already died due to her illness taking a turn for the worse."

I'm waiting for my wife, Sophia Young, to pick me up. My colleague, Tony Shaw, who habitually hitches a ride with us, stays with me. He complains incessantly, "Why isn't your wife here yet? It's freezing cold! I'd prefer to be home by today!" He lives in the western part of the city. Every time we drive him home, Sophia has to make a large detour. However, my stomach is killing me that day, so I politely break things to him while cradling my stomach. "Tony, I'm not feeling well today and would like to get home early to rest. You should take a taxi home yourself. I'll let you hitch a ride next time." Tony snorts coldly and walks away. I wait downstairs for another 30 minutes, only to receive a call from Sophia. She informs me, "Traffic along the street outside your office is unusually congested. I've stopped the car at the intersection up ahead, so come find me there." I venture into the rain to find her car while struggling to keep the umbrella up and open. When I open the car door, I realize it's already filled with her colleagues and there's no space for me. Sophia rolls the window halfway down and points at the blond-haired man drying his hair with a towel in the front passenger seat. She explains, "Ian saw his friend at the intersection just now. The handsome young man looked rather pitiful soaking in the rain, so I gave him a lift. Your company's close by anyway, so why don't you head back in there first? I'll come back to pick you up once I've sent them home." The storm ruins my umbrella, and rain gets in my eyes, making them sting painfully. As I gaze at Sophia's packed car, I find that my marriage to her suddenly feels incredibly meaningless.

My wife, Clara Ellis, had just died. By law, I inherited her entire data archive. Among the files, I discovered an AI version of her that she had created so her surviving family could remember her after she was gone. My daughter asked, "What's the happiest moment of your entire life?" The Clara on the screen laughed. "Why, marrying your father, of course." Her friends asked if she had ever had any regrets. "Clara" shook her head. Then another question appeared, one the real Clara had prepared for herself. "If you could restart your life at 22, would you still choose to marry Darren?" For a full minute, Clara AI said nothing. Finally, she shook her head. "No. I'd rush to the airport and convince Logan to stay." Logan Pearce had left the country when Clara was 22. She never tried to stop him because, at that exact time, I was in a car accident that took both my parents' lives. At the most devastating moment of my life, she gave up on the man she loved and chose to stay by my side for the next twenty years. Everyone had always called it an act of love. Now I knew it had been an act of pity. The next time I opened my eyes, I discovered that I had somehow returned to the third day after the accident. Clara sat beside my hospital bed. Her phone showed that Logan's flight would be boarding soon. In my previous life, I had stopped her from going. It was the first time I had ever swallowed my pride and begged someone to stay with me. That night, I had spent hours trying to convince her not to leave. This time, I ordered an Uber for her. "Logan's flight leaves in 40 minutes. You can still make it, Clara."

Late at night on a business trip, my phone chimes with an alert from our family health app. "New weight logged: 176.8 pounds." I stare at the digits, oblivious to the hot ash falling onto the back of my hand. My wife, Jayda Cohen, is notoriously strict with herself. Her weight is locked at a steady 132 pounds. None of her friends push past 150 pounds, either. So who on earth is standing on that scale right now?

My wife's childhood best friend returned from overseas with a child. To protect his reputation and secure the boy's future, she told everyone that she was the child's mother. And my child? She claimed that my daughter was the bastard I had brought home after fooling around behind her back. When I finally broke down and demanded an explanation, she remained as calm as ever. "Bryan has always had it hard at home," she said. "And his son cannot grow up without a mother. I have to help them." That day, I looked at the woman I had loved for seven years and decided that I would never love her again.

When she was finally certain that Luke Jefferson would never fall in love with her, Raine Stone asked for a divorce and left with Zach Jefferson, their son. After the divorce, the usually aloof Luke abruptly started trying to win her heart back. He was no longer as cold as before, and he started to beg for her forgiveness by blocking Raine’s path. During his breaks, he spent time with Zach and prepared all sorts of surprise gifts. He even protected them and shielded them when a robber tried to stab them, leading to him spending some time close to death’s door. As Zach begged for them to reunite, Raine finally felt her determination crumble and agreed to get remarried with Luke. But right after getting remarried, she and Zach were on their way back home when they got into an accident. They went through more than ten hours of treatment, and Raine came out of it with a kidney gone, while Zach lost his vision. On the second day of the accident, when Raine and her son were taken past the doctor’s office, she heard a shocking secret.

The year I graduated from high school, my dad brought home a woman and a child with a rose on my mom's birthday. When the child offered my mom the rose, my mom gladly accepted it, only to end her life after spending her 39th birthday. … When I got married, I told my husband, Alistair Yates, that a rose was enough to end our marriage if he wanted a divorce. Then, he tried to reassure me that our house would not have anything related to roses. … Five years later, during one of the Yates Group's tender, one of our partners had a rose pinned to her chest. When he saw this, Alistair immediately kicked her out of the company and blacklisted her. That day, I realized that marriage could actually be blissful. Yet, six months after that, I completed my new drug research. The entire corridor was full of roses when I came out of the lab. The person who had been kicked out of the company? She was standing beside Alistair with a bright smile. I looked at him coldly, but he casually said, "Maria prepared all these for you. She's your sister and she wants to make amends with you." It took me two seconds to stare at Alistair before I turned to leave. What sister? I never had one. And from today, I no longer need a husband.

"System, I want to go home." The system responds to Tabitha Samson immediately. "Understood, Tabitha. Exit procedures are now activated. You'll be able to leave this world in half a month." Weirdly enough, the system, which has always followed its own programming, pauses for a few seconds. It soon brings up a question, its tone slightly confused. "You have a husband who dotes on you and a son who always takes your side, Tabitha. Isn't this your home? These people are your family, you know." The moment Tabitha hears the word "family", her gaze slowly fixes on the TV before her.

In my last life, Kyle Ravenwood and I were the mate pair every wolf in Ravenwood Pack envied. He was the Alpha of our pack. I was Alia Blackthorn, his fated mate and the Luna he had chosen in front of the Moon Council. Under the full-moon bonfire, he went down on one knee, took my hand, and swore he would never recognize anyone but me as his Luna. After that, we led Ravenwood together until our hair turned silver. So when I opened my eyes and found myself back at the beginning, before his public Luna announcement, I thought he would come for me again. Instead, I heard him in the healer's back room, speaking in a low voice to his most trusted guard. "In my last life, Lila was sent to the Frostfang Pack as an alliance bride. She didn't survive a year there. I can't watch that happen again." "I’ll complete the mate contract with Lila first. Two days from now, once she gets past that death trap, I’ll break the contract and go back for Alia." His guard sounded uneasy. "And Miss Alia? She’s your fated mate." Kyle fell silent for a moment. When he answered, his voice was so low it seemed pressed down by the dark. "The witch’s forgetting potion will make her forget me for a while. When this is over, I’ll bring her the antidote and make her remember. She loves me. She’ll understand." He didn’t know I was standing right outside the door. He didn’t know the witch’s forgetting potion had never had a true antidote. Two days from now, I’ll forget him completely.

It was the third year of my marriage to Antonio Rizzo, Don of the Rizzo mafia family. He kept a younger woman on the side and had everyone keep it from me. They all said I was his first love, his weakness, the treasure he brought back from Cocily. However, when he got drunk, he laughed and told the family members, "I love Elena, but she's a bit boring in bed. She's just not wild enough. "You all know how it is. Men like a little excitement, like Caterina. She's young, beautiful, and knows how to have fun." The boy who had sworn in church at 17 that he would love me forever now held a young, beautiful blonde in his arms as he coaxed her, "As long as Elena doesn't find out, you can do whatever you want." The day I left, everything seemed normal. No one noticed anything unusual. The maid, Maria Russo, even smiled and asked me, "Signora, are you going shopping?" I smiled lightly and nodded. "No need to prepare dinner tonight." Antonio did not know that the 'boring' Elena he spoke of was the daughter of the Santoro mafia family. The women of the Santoro family never forgave betrayal.

When I get married to Zachary Lennor, I know that he has a younger, depressed sister who's a huge pain in the ass. On our wedding night, she suddenly barges into our room with the excuse that she's terrified of the dark. That's why she wants Zachary to sleep with her. When I get hospitalized due to my illness and need Zachary to take care of me, his sister insists that he go home to eat all three meals with her every day. Otherwise, she'll go on a hunger strike. Even when Zachary and I are on a date, his sister will call him immediately, claiming that her depression is acting up. If he doesn't go home right away, she will jump off a building without hesitation. Unable to take it anymore, I unleash my anger on Zachary's sister. But Zachary is quick to shield her from my ire. With an icy expression, he tells me, "I only have one sister, whereas I can always get myself another wife. If you can't stomach her presence at all, we'll get a divorce right now." I keep tossing and turning in bed at night, unable to sleep at all. That's when I decide to get out of bed just so I can apologize to Zachary and his sister. As soon as I walk to the doorway, I hear a familiar voice whining from the master suite, where Zachary stays. "Zach, since Samantha got so mad at me today, does this mean she's found out that I'm not your actual sister at all, but your ex-wife?" Zachary pauses momentarily before saying reassuringly, "Even if she does, it's fine. Although I do love her, I've already vowed to stay with you forever the day I married you. "So, even though we're already divorced, I will still keep my word. I won't let you go." At that moment, I finally realize that Zachary's so-called younger sister is just a fake identity. Her depression is also a big fat lie. I'm the only one who's been kept in the dark about everything in this performance. In that case, I'm not going to humor these jerks anymore.

My wife, Nova Quill, has grown addicted to the thrill and the fresh excitement of immersive horror games. She spends almost all of her time in the gaming room fighting with the game's boss every day. Sometimes, she even screams things like, "No!" and "Come at me if you dare!". Every time she's done playing, she'll slump on the couch with flushed cheeks, looking very exhausted. But Nova has crossed a line by skipping out on my birthday banquet just so she can fight the boss. Unable to take it anymore, I bring up divorce in front of her. Nova thinks I'm just making a molehill out of a tiny thing. "I'm helping you test out a project that your company has invested in! You should be elated that the game is super fun!" I just sneer at her in return. "Who knows if you love the game or the boss himself? Anyway, I'm definitely divorcing you, no questions asked!"