Contos sobre Tragic Love e Romances com Mistress e Face Slapping

After being abroad for five years for work, I followed the address given by my boyfriend, Gavin Hayes, and arrived at what was supposed to be our future home. The door swung open, and a young woman stood there holding a child in her arms. “Who are you looking for?” Before I could even gather myself from the shock, she spoke again. “A colleague of my husband Gavin, are you? “Did he trouble you with dropping off food for me? “I’ve told him countless times. It’s my second pregnancy—he really needs to stop getting so worked up over it.” She stepped back, then invited me inside. “Why don’t you come in and sit for a bit?” Watching her beam with joy, all I could think of was Gavin’s promise to take me, Clara Stone, as his wife, upon my return. My nails dug into my palms until they drew blood, and tears welled in my eyes as a bitter smile broke across my face. “Sure.”

Right after I had my uterine scraping procedure, Ian called. "Construction on Tina's new home officially starts today. I'm going over to keep an eye on things, so don't wait for me for dinner. "You're on your period today. Don't wander around outside for too long. Go home and get some rest." I touched my flat stomach and couldn't speak for a long time. All this time, Ian and Tina had been the design firm's poster children. One was a specialist in hard finishes, while the other was a prodigy in soft furnishings. Even our marital home had been designed by the two of them working together. But every time we discussed the plans, Ian would pull out another set of blueprints he had painstakingly refined and patiently explain to Tina the entire hardscape design he had created specifically for her new home. Every detail was a perfect replica of the dream house he and I had once imagined together. "Tina lives alone, and the house is small. Designing it for her is no big deal. "Besides, you're not pregnant yet. Once we have a baby, we can renovate the entire house, including the nursery, all at once. It'll save us trouble." For the sake of 'saving us trouble,' I had waited three years in a house where not even the walls had been painted. All I got in return were Ian's repeated excuses and empty promises. He didn't even know I was pregnant. He had mistaken the symptoms of my threatened miscarriage for a normal period. Tina's flirty voice came through the phone. "Ian, don't slack off! Come help me double-check the measurements we left for the bathroom cabinets!" The call ended abruptly. I took a deep breath as I listened to the harsh beeping tone. After waiting three years for this unfinished house, I suddenly didn't want to wait anymore.

When my boyfriend, Caleb Steele, loses his family and everything he has, I walk away. After he makes a comeback, I come to see him every year. The first year, I hold my daughter, Claire Sutton, in my arms. Caleb throws fifty thousand dollars at me and tells me to stay away. The second year, I bring my late-stage cancer diagnosis, and he doesn't even look at it. Instead, he gives me a hundred thousand dollars and tells me to disappear for good. In the third and fourth years, I vanish just as he wants. Then, in the fifth year, he gets a call from Claire. "Mommy, when are you bringing me dinner? I'm hungry."

The day we go to pick out our wedding rings, I show up half an hour late trying to save five dollars on the cab fare. By the time I arrive, my boyfriend Travis White and best friend Evelyn Moon have already picked out two rings. They're too busy talking and don't even notice me standing behind them. "This 20 thousand dollar ring is your birthday present. And this 800-dollar one is for Sadie." Evelyn playfully punches Travis's arm. "Stop it! You've already been pretending to be broke to test Sadie for three years. Isn't that enough? "If you dare treat my best friend badly after getting married, you'll have to answer to me!" Travis sighs. "I checked her bank balance last night. She's only got two thousand dollars. She spends too much and doesn't know how to save." I freeze. So, the luxury purchases and property acquisitions I've seen on his phone aren't sent to the wrong person after all. "Whatever. As long as she doesn't get greedy when she chooses the ring, I'll tell her the truth at the wedding," Travis adds. But I think it's time to put an end to his little test.

Everyone in high society whispered that Tristan Webster kept a tame, submissive trophy girlfriend on his arm. That image shattered at a yacht party when a newcomer pointed at me and asked the room, "Wait, isn't she the legendary woman who slept with Tristan's best friends in one night just to get back at him for cheating?" The room fell dead silent. Tristan's childhood friends sat around the poker table, their expressions unreadable. Tristan, however, simply swirled the wine in his glass and lounged against the leather sofa before casually beckoning me over. "Come here." I walked over without a word and lit his cigarette for him. "Sorry, she caused such a scene back then," he said smoothly, blowing a stream of smoke into the air. His tone gave nothing away. "She certainly gave everyone something to talk about. But after spending a year at the treatment center, she's much calmer now." "Definitely," someone quickly chimed in, trying to lighten the mood. "She's practically trained now." "Yeah." Tristan stubbed out his cigarette, then tipped my chin up with two fingers. "Next month, I'll finally give you the wedding you've been waiting for." "Okay." I looked into his deep, searching eyes and obediently pressed my lips to his. What he didn't know was that I'd stopped caring about that wedding a long time ago.

Serena Sutton was my fiancee, but she wanted to marry my bodyguard, Evan Brooks. The man was a cheat. I didn't want her taken in, so I took her to see for herself what he really was. While the two of them were fighting, a car came through at speed and killed him. And Serena hated me for it with everything in her. In the third year of our marriage, she killed our son. I was in so much pain I was coughing up blood, and she put a knife in me. "Adrian, this is what you owe me for Evan." Only then did I learn that she had never forgotten him. When I opened my eyes again, I was back at the second before I meant to expose him. This time, I'm staying out of it.

At the wedding, Ewan Holland's assistant replaced the slideshow video with a clip of my sexual assault from five years ago. Amid the dead silence of the hall, Lilith Clayton pinned down my hands as I scrambled to unplug the flash drive. "Relax! I mean no harm. Just wanted to remind you how much Mr. Holland loves you. He doesn't mind your past, so don't ever chase cheap thrills or betray him." While I racked my brain trying to convince everyone it was an AI forgery, I frantically signaled Ewan to pull the drive. I thought he'd surely step up to save me. Yet he dragged the timeline bar forward and zoomed in on my face instead. I stopped wrestling, staring at him in disbelief. "What are you doing?" With the screen pausing on my face, Ewan walked over and wrapped me in a gentle embrace, but the words leaving his mouth sent me straight into an icy abyss. "Alicia, there's no need to lie and blame AI. Nobody here is a fool. As long as you behave yourself, I won't hold your past against you." With that one sentence, the entire mood in the room seemed to turn against me. Oblivious to my horror, Ewan smiled and held out the wedding ring. "Come, let me put this on you." I blinked back my tears and took a step away from him. "I don't need your pity. This wedding is off."

On New Year’s Eve, the girlfriend who had promised to go home with me was nowhere to be found. Instead, my close friend, Logan, sent two voice notes. “Bro, your girl is mine now! “You have no idea. Ever since we were kids, my dad only ever listens to her. One word from her is worth more than a hundred from me! It works great, I love it, and I’ll definitely use it again!” At exactly midnight, as fireworks exploded outside the window, Chloe called me, laughing. “You have no idea. Thank God I came over! Mr. Creston looked like he was ready to beat Logan up–” “Chloe,” I interrupted her. “Do you remember that my parents have been waiting to have dinner with you?” Silence fell on the other end before she replied, “What? Fireworks are about to go off! I have to hang up. I’ll rush back to you as soon as this is over!” “Don’t bother.” I said as she hung up on me. Then, I opened a file titled ‘Things Chloe Has Done for Logan.’ On the very last page, it read, "Once this list is a hundred things long, I’ll leave.” And today, the list had a hundred things.

The first time my boyfriend, Jason Calloway, brought me to meet his friends, I wore a scarf to hide the hickeys he'd left the night before. Halfway through dinner, his only female friend suddenly yanked my scarf off. "No wonder you're wearing a scarf in this heat, putting on airs. We're all adults here. What haven't we seen? Looks like you and Jason had quite the wild night..." Jason knew how easily I got embarrassed and quickly tried to cut her off. But she pulled down her own collar instead. "See this bite mark? Jason did it. I didn't even bother putting ointment on it afterward. I just left it out in the open, telling everyone Jason's my little lapdog. That's how a woman earns her place!" Jason frowned, his gaze fixed on the pale, full swell of Vivian Hale's chest, then pulled her hand away, his expression darkening. "There are people here! Put your clothes back!" Then he turned to me. "That's just how my friends are, no filter. Have a few drinks with us and you'll warm up to them." I watched his hand pressing Vivian's collar closed and let out a cold laugh, pushing my chair back from the table. "I'll pass on the drinks. If you enjoy being some other woman's lapdog, don't let me stop you." We Elves never date dogs.

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.

I worked around the clock to put the finishing touches on my latest project and submit it just a week before our wedding. Over dinner, I mentioned to Jane Vance that we were working on a tight timeline and that we should get our wedding photos taken as soon as possible. Jane took a bite of the steak I'd made, looking as if she had just remembered something. "Oh, I forgot to tell you. Lucas and I got married." For a moment, I thought I'd misheard her. But she said it so casually. "I didn't really have a choice. Lucas hasn't been performing well at the lab for the past six months, and he's about to lose his job. If I marry him, Mr. Sterling will recognize Lucas as my spouse and allow him to stay." Seeing the shock on my face, Jane smiled and pinched my cheek. "Don't worry, nothing will change between us. We'll still treat each other the same way we always have." It took me a long time to find my voice. When I finally spoke, my voice was dry. "When did you two get married?" "Three days ago." The project reached its most critical stage three days ago. While I had been working myself to the bone for our future, she had gotten hitched to someone else.

On the morning of the wedding, the bridesmaids decided to play a quick trivia game with Grayson Cross before our first look. He had to get three questions right before he could see me. I thought he would get them all easily. To my surprise, he got the very first one wrong. “What shoe size does the bride wear?” Without hesitation, he answered, “Size 6.” “What’s the bride’s favorite color?” “Blue.” Everyone exchanged glances, and the atmosphere grew awkward. So they asked him an absurdly easy question. “What year did the bride graduate from college?” Everyone thought there was no way he could get that one wrong. After all, we had been classmates in college. “2013. The year she graduated, I gave her a pair of crystal shoes I made myself. There's no way I could be wrong.” That was the moment I panicked. My eyes slowly drifted toward my best friend, Iris Shea, who stood there in a blue bridesmaid dress and crystal heels. She bit her lip and quietly reminded Grayson, “It was 2012. I’m the one who graduated late.” And suddenly, I understood. The last bit of hesitation in my heart disappeared. I gave a faint smile, lowered my head, and sent a message to my parents. “Mom, Dad, please bring the car around. I’m changing into sneakers. I’m not marrying him.”

The night before the wedding, the groomsmen and bridesmaids were too excited to sleep, so someone suggested writing down what they wanted to say to me on a slip of paper anonymously. I closed my eyes in anticipation, thinking I would receive all kinds of blessings. But when I opened the first note, I froze. [You witch. If you hadn't forced my brother, Nora would be my sister-in-law by now!] Nora Harris… She was my best friend. She had called me three hours earlier with red eyes, apologizing, saying that she had to go on a business trip all of a sudden and could not attend my wedding. With trembling hands, I kept reading… [The wedding ring he bought you was the one Nora rejected. She said it was too cheap, so he gave it to you.] [You didn't know, did you? On the day your mother died, he was holding Nora in his arms and slept with her in your marital home.] [The reason Nora isn't coming to your wedding is that she gave birth to Shane's child and is still recovering.] When my eyes landed on the last note, I recognized the handwriting at once…

Before the birthday party starts, my boyfriend, Edward Parker, casts his phone onto the large screen in the private room. He starts an anonymous poll in the group chat we share with our friends. The question is, "Tonight, should I stay and cut the cake with my girlfriend, or go to the premiere with my childhood friend?" A 30-second countdown begins as the votes keep climbing. His childhood friend, Renee Lane, gets 17 votes while I get just one. Everyone thinks I'm the one who has voted for myself. Edward leans back against the couch and smiles. "The minority yields to the majority." Renee hands him the movie ticket. "Guess everyone agrees that I need you more." Meanwhile, I'm standing before a cake with the candles still unlit, wearing my favorite dress. Someone in the room whistles. "Tanya, don't be a sore loser." The voting thing has been going on for three years now. Whenever we fight, Edward will let them vote on who apologizes first. On dates, he will let them vote on whose hand he holds. Even when I ask him whether he loves me, he sends the question to the group chat, saying, "Let's have everyone weigh in." I think that if I win just once, he will finally take my side. But I never win. Tonight is no different. Edward gets to his feet and grabs his coat. As he walks past me, he ruffles my hair. "Be good, okay? I'll make it up to you when I get back." I look at the results on the screen, lock my phone, and push the cake knife toward him. "No need. Edward, I'm done voting."

The night before the Fourth of July holiday, my husband gathered the entire company for what I thought would finally be our long-awaited public announcement. Instead, his clueless assistant burst into the room wearing a wedding dress. "Cameron, I'm here to marry you." He didn't turn her down. If anything, his eyes softened with unmistakable affection as he promoted her to vice president on the spot. The entire company erupted in cheers for their love story. When my coworkers noticed me standing frozen off to the side, one of them couldn't resist reminding me. "Stephanie, you've been with Mr. Cox for nine years. You can't let a moment this special pass without saying something!" I smiled, walked onto the stage, slipped off my wedding ring, and tossed it to Poppy Campbell. "What kind of wedding doesn't come with a ring? Here, take it."

I have an ability that I can't tell anyone about—whenever I'm intimate with my girlfriend, I can see what she was doing exactly one hour earlier. In the past, what I see is her secretly buying sexy lingerie to surprise me; or her carefully following a recipe to cook my favorite dishes; or her nervously standing in front of a mirror, checking her makeup and dress over and over as she nervously prepares to propose to me. For seven years, everything she does in that one hour is always about me. Until three days before our wedding. The moment she kisses me, a vision suddenly flashes before my eyes. In a dimly lit lounge, she has my best friend, Tyler Reed, pinned against the door. He turns his head away, his voice strained as he speaks. "We can't keep doing this! Logan is my best friend. I can't betray him…" But Avery Goodwin unbuckles his belt, her voice hoarse with desire. "I'm marrying him in three days. Let's just have fun one last time." The scene vanishes in a flash. Back in reality, Avery is still nestled in my arms, gently kissing my cheek. "Logan, we're going to be married soon. Are you happy?" I stare into her loving eyes, and suddenly let out a soft laugh. So, it turns out there is a third person in her one hour after all.

My girlfriend, Laura Dawson, once asked me a question. "If you ever made it big, would you leave me behind?" I told her no. For six years after that, I stood beside her through every low point in her life. Then the tables turned, and she was the one who made it big. At the Best Actress awards ceremony, she stood there with tears in her eyes, ready to announce the man she'd loved for years. The spotlight swept right past me and landed on the young man I'd sponsored. He stood beside Laura, his eyes red. "Will, thank you for taking care of Laura all these years. But gratitude isn't love. You can't use it to hold her hostage." Laura turned her own gaze on me, cold with warning. "I've had ten thousand dollars transferred to your card. As far as I'm concerned, we're even now." Six years of my youth, poured into her, reduced to one unremarkable number on a bank statement. I watched the internet fill up with people calling me a homewrecker. I made one phone call. "Pull every film Laura Dawson has ever made. All of them." Laura, I regret it now. Now that you've made it big, the first thing I'm going to do is leave you behind.

Three years ago, I casually created an Instagram alt account and followed my husband. On that account, we talked about everything. The weather. Our day. Work. Whatever was bothering us. We could talk for hours. But on my main account, and even in real life, we barely exchanged ten sentences in an entire year. I always thought it was just our little secret. A private game between husband and wife that neither of us needed to acknowledge out loud. And honestly, I enjoyed it. Then, just before our third wedding anniversary, a new message popped up on my second account. ‘I’m divorcing Joanna Simpson.’ ‘Jess, I want to be with you.’ That was the moment I finally realized the truth. My husband had never known that the woman behind that account... was me.

Five years ago, I catch my husband, Henry Lancaster, cheating on me. He's a college professor, and the other woman is his teaching assistant, Vera Ashmore. Henry begs me not to go public, saying it'll ruin her reputation. I agree, but only if she drops out of school, leaves the city, never comes back, and signs a binding agreement. Everyone around me calls me vain, saying I care more about money than feelings. And yet Henry is willing to turn on his entire family just to protect her name. Five years later, I travel to that same city on a business trip to attend a lecture and end up finding a little boy wandering by himself. I take him to the police station so he can get in touch with his family. The officer dials the number the boy recites from memory, and a familiar voice comes through the line, "Hey, it's okay, don't be scared. Daddy's coming to get you right now." Less than half an hour later, Henry, who's supposed to be teaching classes a thousand miles away, rushes through the station doors. I'm sitting on a bench when our eyes lock, and he freezes on the spot. I smile and rise to my feet. "Henry, I had no idea you had a secret son behind my back this whole time. Looks like that spotless professor image of yours isn't going to last much longer."

At the bachelor party, someone suggests playing a game of "Of Course". Whatever we're asked, that's the answer we have to give. Rowena Jennings' childhood friend, Lucas Foster, takes the first shot at me. "You're always snooping through your girlfriend's phone, aren't you?" Before I can react, Rowena cuts in, "Of course. Why else would he keep checking on me until the wee hours of the morning?" Everyone cracks up, and her best friend turns to me next. "Do you always have to make a big deal out of nothing?" "Of course," Rowena answers for me. "How else would he make himself look unreasonable and get himself some attention?" The laughter grows louder. Her cousin, Amelia Jennings, joins in, "You get all teary-eyed over a little criticism, don't you?" "Of course. How else would he guilt me into feeling sorry for him?" Rowena replies. My palm is slick with sweat as I tighten my grip on my glass. When my turn comes, I look Rowena in the eye. "You're… pretty good at pretending to be in love, aren't you?" "Of course." She doesn't even blink. "How else would I trick you into marrying me?" The room goes quiet for a second before everyone erupts into laughter. My nails dig into my palm as I turn to Lucas. "Do you have feelings for her?" "Of course. Did you think I was into you instead?" he said. Everyone's laughing, and no one seems to think there's anything wrong with this. I force myself to hold it together as I head to the restroom. On my way back, I overhear them talking. "Forget about him. He'll put up with anything as long as he gets to marry Rowena." I turn to leave, tossing the wedding invitations into the trash. Since none of them can wish me well, there's no reason to go through with this marriage.