Tragic Love 단편 소설 & Mistress Superpowers 소설

I, Darlene Cooley, have an ability. Whenever I touch an object, I can see the scenes it has experienced over the past day. I've been married for five years. Every time I help my husband, Bernard Hoffman, tidy up his suits or organize his briefcase, what I see are conference rooms, whiteboards, and workstations. Once in a while, I appear in those scenes. He'll be secretly reading my messages under his desk, the corners of his mouth lifting unconsciously. Bernard is so gentle that it feels almost unreal. In winter, he places my slippers by the heater to warm them up. No matter how busy his business trips are, he video calls me right on time. When I casually mention I feel like eating caramel popcorn, he drives halfway across the city to stand in line for it. My friends all say I'm blessed, and I feel the same way. That is, until yesterday, when he comes back from a trip. I go to help him unpack, and the moment I touch that gray cashmere sweater, a flood of images rushes in. Bernard is sitting across from a short-haired woman. Her eyes are bright, and a shallow dimple appears when she smiles. He listens to her speak, earnest and focused, with his head tilted slightly to one side. A faint smile lingers at the corner of his mouth. It's been a long time since he has listened to me speak like that. The vision ends. I crouch in front of the suitcase, my hand still resting on the cashmere sweater, unable to snap out of it for a long while. Then, I stand up and walk over to the cabinet, where I pull out my own suitcase.

On my hundredth hospital admission, I saw the comments floating across the screen. They revealed that I was the frail supporting character, destined to die young, while my fiancé, Julian Frost, was the male lead. While I was unconscious in the hospital, Julian was busy playing hero to the insecure woman he supporting financially. Even as I was rushed to the ICU and resuscitated, he still had condoms in his pocket for the two of them to use. Everyone in the comments was hoping I would die and set Julian free. Later, just as they wished, I left Julian’s world one spring. But Julian went mad and never escaped that spring for the rest of his life.

At one in the morning, I stumbled upon a viral forum thread. The question was simple: If you had to choose between love and your future, which would you pick? Thousands of replies clashed furiously in the comments. Some argued that those who chose their career always ended up full of regret. Others countered that being a hopeless romantic was a one-way ticket to total ruin. I rolled over in bed and glanced at Ethan, who was fast asleep beside me. His brow was slightly furrowed, and his fingers tightly gripped the edge of my shirt. Even in his sleep, he seemed terrified that I might slip away. Without a second thought, I fired off a string of comments: “Choose love, absolutely. We’ve been together for five years.” “He gave up his entire family legacy and inheritance just to be with me.” “Every single evening after work, he goes two miles out of his way just to pick up my favorite coffee.” “We might have nothing to our names, but together, we have everything.” Satisfied, I locked my phone and drifted off to sleep. But when I woke up the next morning, a few new notifications caught my eye. Someone had replied to my comments. The avatar and the username were identical to mine. The only difference was the timestamp: Five years from today. “Choose your future! You have to choose your future!” “His ‘sacrificed legacy’ was nothing but a sob story to manipulate you—he took over his family’s multimillion-dollar enterprise a long time ago!” “He stays up all night waiting in lines just to buy Seraphina limited-edition designer collaborations, all while telling you that your coffee craving is cheap and wasteful!” “Even the daughter you gave birth to, Lily, will be forced to call that other woman ‘Mom’!”

I was born with a special ability that allowed me to bear other people’s misfortune. As long as I signed my name at someone’s request, I could transfer their suffering to myself. My best friend was frail and sickly, while I was strong and healthy. Whenever she showed the first signs of a cold or fever, she would bring me a note that read: [Please bear my illness for me.] I never hesitated. I willingly signed my name every time, then fell seriously ill for three days. Whenever my boyfriend saw me sick, his face filled with concern, and he repeatedly urged me to stop pushing myself so hard. I only smiled. The next time, I still chose to help my best friend. Then, one day, my boyfriend suddenly proposed to me and gave me a villa as an engagement gift. I solemnly signed my name on the property transfer documents. At that moment, I felt happier than I had ever been. However, that very night, several people dragged me into an alley and gang-raped me. I returned home covered in injuries, only to hear my boyfriend say to my best friend, "I already tricked Lia into signing her name. She’ll take this disaster in your place. Don’t blame yourself. I’ll spend the rest of my life treating her well as compensation."

For weeks, my husband had been disappearing for two hours every night. One night, I tailed him to a strange pawnshop. Inside, he was holding my nightgown. “I want to trade six months of her life. Wendy’s healthy. She’ll be fine.” Then he pulled out my lipstick and handed it to the shopkeeper. “It's only three days of her youth. She won't notice.” The shopkeeper placed my belongings on an antique bronze scale, selling off pieces of my life as if they were worth nothing. I stormed inside to stop them, but my husband grabbed me around the waist and pinned me against the cold counter. He pressed a kiss to my cheek. “You know Aria’s been coughing up blood. How can you just let her suffer? She’s only in this condition because of me.” Then, without a trace of hesitation, he crushed three of my fingers. I screamed, the pain so intense I nearly blacked out. “All you have to do is put up with a little pain, and Aria gets an entire day of relief. Seems like a fair trade to me.” The bronze scale flashed red, drowning out my screams. Then one day, my husband brought our wedding ring to the pawnshop. “She's worn this ring for ten years. I want to trade it for another ten years of life for Aria.” But this time, the shopkeeper smiled. “A transaction this large requires an exchange from both parties.” He turned to me. “Now, what would you like to take from him?”

When I found out about Kenneth Hale, I didn’t argue with Claire O’Neill. I simply handed her the divorce papers. Her eyes turned red as she sat there. After struggling with the decision for a moment, she tore them up. "Give me ten days. I’ll send Kenneth far away, and he’ll never appear in our lives again." So over the next ten days, Claire went whitewater rafting with him, climbed snow-covered mountains, bungee jumped, and went skydiving. They did every thrilling thing they could think of. They watched the sunrise together by the ocean and went to Silver Pines Retreat to meditate, filling those days with every romantic experience imaginable. Then, on the ninth night, after I had packed all my belongings, I accidentally answered a video call from myself ten years in the past. "You really are me ten years from now! Then Claire and I must already be married with kids, right?" Pain flickered in my eyes. I walked straight onto the balcony and pointed the camera down at Claire and Kenneth, who were holding each other tightly, unable to let go. "This is what happens." Finley Morton looked as if he’d been struck by lightning. "That’s impossible…" My voice was exhausted, as though every last bit of strength had been drained from me. "Finley, please. Don’t marry her."

After three miscarriages for Xavier Lowe, I see it—my mother-in-law has three years left, my father-in-law nine years, and my sister-in-law two years. I say nothing. After the third miscarriage, my mother-in-law blames me, calling me a curse who "kills" children. My sister-in-law sneers, saying she almost died in a car crash the year I married Xavier—as if my bad luck dragged her down. My mother-in-law snaps, "She can't even keep a child. It must be because she's cursed!" Xavier just stands there, silent. He doesn't say a single word for me. I know that, deep down, he believes that I bring bad luck. Maybe it's also because he already has someone else—his secretary, Yvette Snyder. His mother has always liked her better, and he clung to her the night I lost my third child. I don't explain because I know the truth will only destroy them faster. On my 28th birthday, I catch a glimpse of my own countdown in the mirror. On that day, I take a leave of absence. I go to the funeral home and pick out an urn—pure white, just like the wedding dress I once wore. Wearing a beautiful floral dress, I text Xavier, asking him to meet me at the lake where we first met ten years ago. I wait from daylight until nightfall as my countdown ticks to zero. I die, and he never shows up.

In my fourth year trapped inside this oceanfront villa, a notification suddenly popped up on my old tablet. A memo had synced from the cloud. The title was “The Choice I Made at Eighteen.” It was a journal entry I’d saved to the cloud ten years ago, back when I was still in high school. In it, my younger self had asked hopefully: “Is it worth giving up the chance to train in Paris so I can stay and help Michael Grant build his company?” Every word showed just how hopelessly devoted I’d been to him. I stared at the screen for a long time before slowly lowering my gaze. My eyes fell on my feet. They’d been shattered beyond repair, leaving them permanently twisted and deformed. Just an hour ago, Michael had brought his twenty-year-old intern, Chloe Spencer, into our marital bed. Right in front of me, he’d had sex with her. Chloe had even deliberately left her pregnancy test on the floor for me to find. A bitter smile twisted my lips, uglier than tears. Then I jabbed at the screen, typing a reply beneath the memo. “Run. Go to Paris while you still can, before he breaks your legs!”

On my thirty-eighth birthday, my husband, Hugh Shaw, nearly forty, found the love of his life. He asked me for a divorce. "Mina’s only twenty. She’s sweet and kind, while you’re old and boring." I nodded at my own reflection, looking worn and lifeless. That explained Hugh’s strange behavior lately. He’d started caring about his appearance. He never left the house without putting on cologne, and he bought a bouquet of flowers every day. No matter how busy he was, the first thing he did when he got home was work out at the gym. Before the divorce, Hugh asked me, "Maya, you’ve been a housewife for seven years. Can you really bring yourself to divorce me? Don’t come crying to me later!" I smiled. "I won’t." Because that girl he fell in love with was me at twenty.

An ambulance rushed in during my night shift, carrying a pregnant woman in critical condition due to severe bleeding. I was about to head into the operating room when I suddenly saw a stream of comments appearing in front of me. "Don't go in there! That pregnant woman is your wife. She had sex with her side dude in the wilderness, and that's what caused the bleeding!" "Your wife is even planning to fake her death and run away with him. She's also setting you up for medical malpractice so you'll end up in prison!" "That baby isn't even yours. And your in-laws are already on their way with the police to arrest you!" After reading those comments, my expression turned dark. At that same moment, I heard the nurse urgently calling me to hurry.

"Honey, the soles of my shoes are made of sheepskin. I can't get them wet, so come pick me up right away." Just as I send a WhatsApp message to my wife, Cora Harden, a barrage of floating comments explodes in front of me in the downpour. "I really can't stand a high-maintenance second male lead like Allen Brandt. Cora, the female lead, is a billionaire CEO, and yet she lets him boss her around like a lapdog." "The male lead has already joined the company. Once Cora sees how sweet and thoughtful he is, she's dumping that loser Allen for good." "This is hilarious. After the divorce, Allen can't do anything, so he'll end up as some cheap thirst-trap live streamer." Staring at the screen of venomous insults, I clench my fists in anger. Just then, Cora arrives with an umbrella, half of her bespoke dress soaked from the rain. Noticing my whitened knuckles, she pauses for a moment, then timidly tugs at my sleeve. "Sorry, darling. If I had driven any faster, I would have been speeding."

I was in the middle of saving a heart attack patient's life, so I didn't drop everything to save my foster sister's dog. The next moment, I got a message from my fiancé, Felix Callier. Felix: [Because you let it die and did nothing, Tiffany's dog ended up in the animal hospital!] Felix: [Let's push back the wedding. Consider it your punishment.] This was the ninth time Felix had postponed our wedding because of one of Tiffany Kamp's tantrums. This time, I didn't want to play along anymore. Then the comment feed drifted across my vision. [Go find him on the rooftop, girl! He's actually in love with you. He already saw through the impostor's whole act.] [He's postponing the wedding to surprise you. He's secretly planning the wedding of the century for you!] My heart ached with guilt, and I ran straight for the rooftop to find him. The moment I reached the door, I heard Tiffany's teasing laugh. "Do you really think Roxy will come crawling back to beg forgiveness once she sees those words?" Felix's tone turned playful. "Of course. That's the AR technology my company just developed. Besides, she loves me so much that even a fake message won't make her suspicious. "This was her fault to begin with. She deserves a lesson." I froze where I stood. So even the comments that claimed to love me were just another game he was playing to humiliate me. I swallowed down the bitterness rising in my throat and turned to leave. Felix had no idea. The moment his fake comment feed vanished from my sight, the real one appeared.

When I was ten years old, I suddenly gained the ability to see red threads connecting people’s heads. Only those who had actually slept together would be bound by this unavoidable red line. Over the years, two extra red threads popped up over my father’s head, driving my mother to threaten to file for divorce again and again. Because of this, loyalty became the single most important thing I looked for in a partner. In the end, I chose Jasper—a modest, reserved man whose head was completely clean. On the night before our wedding, my bridesmaids hosted a bachelorette party. We played a game where whoever lost had to hand over their phone for the rest of us to snoop through. When it was my maid of honor Jean’s turn, she clutched her phone tightly, her face flushing red as she bashfully giggled. “Don’t look at mine! He wore me out so late last night. Those photos are definitely not fit for public viewing.” Everyone teased her for keeping her relationship so secretive, since no one had ever met her boyfriend. I was just about to step in and smooth things over when I suddenly saw a bright red thread stretch straight out from the top of her head. It wove right through the crowd and anchored itself directly onto my fiancé, Jasper. Yet, when he dropped me off at home last night, his head had been entirely clean. In fact, just half an hour ago, he had sent me a text. [Aria, I’ve saved myself for you for twenty-five years. On our wedding night tomorrow, I can finally have you. I love you!] I looked over at Jasper standing outside the door, staring at me with deep affection, and then back at Jean, whose face was glowing with passion. I raised my glass and clinked it gently against hers. “Jean, is your boyfriend’s last name Cook?”

I Was Your Only Secret

One afternoon, I received a text from seven years in the future. The sender was me, Delilah Hanson. I assumed it was some new kind of scam, so I didn't even bother reading the message before firing off an angry reply. [Drop dead, scammer!] The sender responded with a photo of an empty bottle of sleeping pills. [I'm not a scammer, but I really am about to die. Break up with Caleb. Today is the first day he cheats on you. His first love just came back from overseas. Her name is Savannah Gordon.] I froze. The whole thing was so ridiculous that I almost laughed. I was Caleb Wheeler's first love! Right then, the door opened behind me. Caleb walked in with a woman beside him, smiling as he introduced us. "Delilah, there's someone I want you to meet. This is Savannah, my foster sister. She just got back today."

My long-lost older sister, Natalia, was pregnant when she was brought home. The moment my fiance, Duncan, saw her, he let go of my hand and strode to her side. He then confessed, “I’m sorry, Mr. and Mrs. Jacklin. The baby in Lia’s belly is mine. I will call off the wedding with Felicity.” I stood frozen in place. Then, a barrage of words floated before my eyes. Apparently, Duncan was the male lead, I was the villainess, and Natalia was still my sister. [Duncan returned to the past, didn’t he? He and Natalia were secretly seeing each other back then, but they never came clean because they didn’t want to hurt Felicity’s feelings. So, he got forced into marrying Felicity instead.] [After they got married, Felicity found out about their affair. She forced her parents to send Natalia overseas. Then, at the airport, she had a baggage cart crash into Natalia. The impact caused uterine rupture and severe hemorrhaging, and she died.] [Duncan despises Felicity. To get revenge for Natalia, he killed Felicity by letting her bleed out.] I bled out? I shot a glance at the man I had loved since childhood.