Tragic Love Romance Short Stories & Awakening Novels

When the Carter family went bankrupt, Zoe Carter sold herself to the Tanners to save her mother. She became the bride of Yale Tanner, the man everyone in Gerton feared and avoided like the devil himself. Their marriage was supposed to bring him good fortune and save his life. Three days after the wedding, Yale, who had been on the brink of death from a gunshot wound, made a miraculous recovery. From then on, he treated Zoe like the most precious thing in his world. Now, however, Zoe sat bound at the wrists and ankles with coarse hemp rope, less than two feet from the open door of a helicopter. Freezing water jolted her awake. At thirty-three thousand feet, the icy wind rushing through the open doorway chilled her to the bone. She struggled instinctively, but the ropes only tightened, digging into her flesh until blood began to seep from her wrists and ankles. "Don't be scared, Zoe. Look at your mother! She's putting on quite the kite show!" Yale seized her trembling head and forced her to look at the screen beside her. There, suspended from a rope outside the helicopter, her mother dangled helplessly in the wind, her eyes vacant as she swayed like a kite. "Mom! Mom!" Her fear for her mother overwhelmed her own terror. Frantically, Zoe tried to crawl toward the screen, struggling forward on her bound hands and feet. Yale caught her by the back of her neck and held her firmly in place. His warm breath brushed her ear as he spoke, his voice cold and menacing. "Have you learned to behave yourself yet, Zoe? Now tell me, who do the data and research papers on precision-targeted therapies and antibody-drug conjugates really belong to?"

After being Nelson Jackson’s devoted simp for five years, Sarah Paterson became pregnant. Just as she was excitedly waiting for him to propose, Nelson had a change of heart when his high school sweetheart returned from studying abroad. Sarah didn't fight to keep the relationship. Instead, she went straight to the hospital, had an abortion, and immediately agreed to the arranged marriage her family had set up with a business partner's son. But Nelson came to regret his decision. He begged Sarah to keep his child, but she only gave him two words in response. "Too late."

Late at night, my husband came home with a young model. "So, you are the washed-up wife that Mr. Dawson keeps at home?" The girl looked at me with a mocking smile and said. Jay Dawson, my husband, reeking of alcohol, glanced between us with interest. He then hugged the young girl and led her into the bedroom. I sat alone on the living room couch, wrapped in a blanket, and listened to their shameless noises all night. I endured it for two years. Our agreement had finally ended this year, and so had my love for Ethan. I walked away. But Ethan chased after me like a madman.

Three years after his release from prison, Cody Lawson finally learns how to coexist peacefully with Titus Sweeney, his sugar mommy's husband. When Titus is neglected, Cody encourages her to spend more time with him. When Titus gets worried that Cody might have a child with her, Cody makes sure to use strict contraceptive measures, going so far as to undergo a vasectomy for his sake. In their social circle, Cody is jokingly dubbed the "ideal kept man", the one who gives the legal spouse the least amount of trouble. Andrew Lloyd, a social-media-influencer friend of Titus', arranges a live-streamed interview with Cody. The camera is angled straight at Cody's face as Andrew asks with a hint of disdain, "So, Mr. Lawson, you dropped out of Strawford University at 20 and became the star performer at Nirvana Host Club. "Later, you latched onto Ms. Harvey, who was already engaged to Titus, and even stabbed Titus in a fit of jealousy, landing yourself a five-year prison sentence. "I'm curious, though. Can a gold-digger like you ever truly love someone?" Cody pauses, then offers a faint, wry smile as he replies, "I can. When I was 18, I had my first-ever girlfriend. Her name was Jennifer Harvey." She had been so good to him, and yet, later on, she faked her own death just to deceive him.

On our graduation trip, my best friend, Maddie, hadn’t managed to snag a lower bunk in our Amtrak sleeper car. As she stared at the upper bunk with a troubled look, my boyfriend, Hal, teased her. “What’s wrong, Short Stuff? Can’t climb up there?” Maddie smacked his arm. “If you’re not going to help, shut up.” Instead of getting upset, Hal nudged me. “True, switch bunks with her. Knowing her, she’ll fall on her way up and land right on top of you.” I shifted my gaze to Hale, my mind wandering back to the journey throughout. He’d bought two breakfast sandwiches at the station, one of them being a vegan option. Hal had called Maddie out for always watching her weight. Still, he offered the vegan sandwich to her and handed me one with bacon, even though it wasn’t my choice of protein. When we arrived at the station, we had to haul our luggage down a flight of stairs. He’d grumbled about Maddie overpacking even when she couldn’t handle the luggage herself. Yet, Hal carried her suitcase down the stairs while leaving me to struggle with my own by myself. When we were deciding where to go, he’d scoffed at Maddie for not being able to handle a bit of spice, kicking up a fuss that she was ruining my chance to visit New Mexico and see the hot-air balloons. Then, without a second thought, he’d booked us tickets to Florida instead. He was supposed to be my boyfriend, but whenever Maddie was involved, he was always saying one thing and doing another. His priority was always her. So, I shook my head. “No, I’m not switching.”

We couldn't agree on our holiday travel plans, so my boyfriend, Julian Wade, created a three-way group chat. "Let's roll the dice," he said. "Highest number wins. Fair and square." Chloe Dawson, my best friend, rolled a six. She wanted to go to Miami. I wanted to go to Aspen. But I only rolled one. I didn’t pick Aspen on a whim. It was the place my mom had always dreamed of visiting before she passed away. This year marked five years since she died, and I promised I would see the snowy peaks for her. Julian knew that. Just three months ago, he held my hands and promised he would take me there for the holidays. "Fair is fair," Julian texted, dropping a head-patting emoji. It was the twenty-seventh time this year I had rolled the lowest number. I lost when we picked a restaurant last week. I lost when we chose a movie the week before. Then yesterday happened. I used Julian’s tablet to look up some travel guides and noticed his messaging app was still logged in. A chat with his friend sat right at the top. [Sent you the loaded dice plugin. You can roll whatever you want now.] [Thanks. Chloe takes things too seriously, and this is the only way to handle her.] I stared at those two sentences for a long time, then quietly put the tablet back. So he knew what Aspen meant to me. And I wasn’t losing to bad luck. I was losing to his favoritism. I left the group chat, booked a one-way ticket to Aspen, and packed my bags. First day of the holiday. Seven in the morning. Flying solo.

I've been in a long-distance relationship with Xavier Harrington for four years. Every time we meet up with each other, the first thing he says to me is, "You've gotten fatter… and shorter." When my friend finds out about it, she jokes to me, "Maybe he has another girlfriend who's taller and thinner than you." It's supposed to be a joke, and yet I take it seriously. It explains why I've decided to travel a span of 1,800 miles just to seek Xavier out at the city he's stationed to. But that's when I accidentally stumble upon Xavier going on a stroll with a young woman side by side. I trail behind them, only to see them going to a cafe that's filled with people. There, they line up so that they can snap commemorative photos. However, whenever Xavier's hanging out with me, he often turns my suggestions down impatiently. To him, lining up at such places is a waste of time. Later on, Xavier and the woman secure a table in a restaurant. There, Xavier pulls out a chair for her before he starts setting out the cutlery for her. Even when the food is served, he will subconsciously push the woman's favorite dish in her direction. For the first time ever in our relationship of eight years, I find out that Xavier can be caring when he feels like it. I watch as Xavier chats animatedly with the woman at the table. He shares everything with her, be it the irritating experiences at work or the funny and interesting incidents that have happened to him so far. Then, I lower my head to look at the short text messages Xavier has sent to me in the past. "Time for work. It's lunch time. I'm about to nap." Suddenly, I find my relationship with Xavier extremely boring, so I dig out the invitation sent by my company regarding their outstation request and tap on it. After all, I no longer want anything to do with this flawed relationship anymore.

Five years after their breakup, Lauren Scott signed a master-servant contract with Yale Sutton, the ex-boyfriend who had been penniless when they were together. Yale would pay off her debts, and in return, Lauren had to fulfill his every demand. "Lauren, take off one piece of clothing, and I'll knock a million off your debt." Yale spoke slowly, his voice dripping with mockery. Around the private room, the men hooted and cheered while the women laughed and made teasing remarks. Lauren gritted her teeth. "Fine. Just don't go back on your word, Mr. Sutton." Without a moment's hesitation, she unbuttoned her blouse and let it fall to the floor, baring her porcelain-white skin and most of her full, rounded breasts. The room fell silent for a moment before whistles erupted from every direction.

After dinner, I did what I usually did and went to the front desk to pay. The poor signal held me up for a while, and by the time I finally sorted everything out, my girlfriend and my best friend were nowhere to be seen. I called them more than a dozen times before they finally picked up. "You took too long, so we left without you. We're at the LEGO-building studio on the first floor. Come over." It was during holiday, so the mall was even more crowded than usual. I waited through two rounds of the elevator, but both were packed, so I had no choice but to take the escalator. By the time I reached the studio, there was not a single seat left. Nicole and my best friend were sitting side by side, talking about going to Northbridge University together. They were already mapping out the next ten years of their lives together, from graduate school to their PhDs—a grand plan for the future I had never been able to insert myself into. They had both already been admitted through the early scholars program back in May. I, on the other hand, had failed to do well on my college entrance exam and was still considering retaking it so I could catch up with them. When Nicole saw me standing awkwardly at the entrance, she said with exasperation, "You're always so slow. Just wait outside for now." I stared at the two of them from behind. For some reason, I suddenly felt unbearably tired. I had spent far too long trying to keep up with Nicole. This time, I was done chasing her.

I'm an artist, but a car accident takes away my sight. My childhood sweetheart, Clara Vance, stays by my side when I'm at my lowest. She becomes the only light in my life, and we eventually get married. Two years later, I accidentally come across an audio recording on her computer. "Clara, thanks for saving me, but you told the doctor to take Brandon's corneas without his permission and used them to restore my sight. "What are you going to tell him when he wakes up? What if he calls the police? What are we going to do?" "He'll never find out the truth. He can't see anymore, so I'll marry him and keep him under my control. Desmond, I'd do anything for you." It feels as though someone has just dumped a bucket of ice water over me, sending a chill through me. The woman I thought had saved me has been lying to me from the very beginning. After sending a copy of the audio recording to my phone, I call a lawyer to draw up the divorce papers. Then I head to the hospital alone for a follow-up eye exam. If that's what really happened, then it's time for me to end things with Clara.

I'm born with the ability to see how much time remains in every relationship between two people. Throughout my 13 years of marriage to my wife, Francine Spence, the rare word "Forever" glows above both our heads. But on the eve of our son Oscar Baxter's birthday, I stumble upon a conversation between Francine and her client, Dale Stratton. In it, I discover that she has been letting Dale use Oscar as a substitute for his deceased son, Zachary Stratton, to ease his grief. In an instant, the golden word "Forever" vanishes, and in its place is a glaring crimson number—7 Days.

On Thanksgiving, my partner, Julian Spencer, and I plan to head to my parents' home to discuss our wedding date. But he calls me while I'm waiting for him at the airport. "Penelope needs to bring a date back to her parents' for Thanksgiving. I'm going to go with her and pretend to be her boyfriend," he says on the other end of the line. "Oh, come on, Jennifer. You two are already legally married," Penelope Holt, his female best friend, chimes in. "The wedding can wait. What's the rush?" I'm wearing an ivory-colored dress I bought especially for the occasion. My two suitcases sit beside me, and I've been waiting at the airport for three whole hours. I feel like a complete joke. For three years, Penelope has always found a reason to "borrow" Julian from me. When I was hospitalized with severe gastric pain, she took him away for a hiking trip. During our anniversary, she asked him to help her fix some furniture. She even came up with five different reasons to pull him away when we tried to register our marriage. Every time, Julian says the same thing. "Penelope needs me more. I'll go to her first." In the end, we only managed to register our marriage on the fifth try because I insisted that he stay. A brief silence fills the phone. Then, Julian tells me, "Penelope and I grew up together. The relationship is entirely platonic. Don't overthink it." I slowly unclench my fist. "Okay," I say softly. "Go ahead." A message from my mother pops up on my phone. "Hey, Jen. Julian said he can't make it home for Thanksgiving this year. Are we still having the wedding?" I type out my reply. "Yes—but the groom is going to be someone else."

Dominic Fletcher and Sabine Mercer were high-society rivals known throughout the entire city for their bitter feuds. Yet by a twist of fate, the former was my childhood sweetheart and fiancé, while the latter was my best friend. Every time they crossed paths, teeth flared and claws came out. Now that I was pregnant, the two were locked in a relentless shouting match over who the baby would later address first. Hoping to ease the tension, I organized a road trip for the holiday weekend. Never did I imagine we would run into a violent landslide along the way. At the threshold of life and death, staring down at me as I lay pooled in my own blood, Dominic turned to scoop Sabine, who was suffering nothing more than a scraped elbow, into his arms. Just then, a massive boulder was about to crush down on me. He suddenly bolted back, wrapping his arms around me in a desperate, suffocating embrace. “The wedding we miss... I'll make it up to you in the next life.” I opened my eyes again to find myself alive again. I could hear the frantic bickering echoing clearly from outside the door. “You were willing to die alongside Elaine. Why didn’t you save her first? “Her baby’s gone! How on earth am I supposed to explain…” Dominic’s voice cut through, a restrained, low growl. “I couldn’t just stand there and watch the woman I love die, could I? “You know full well how indebted I feel...” I froze on the bed, half my body turning numb. Years ago, my father was hit by a truck and knocked off a cliff in an attempt to save Dominic’s life. I had always interpreted the look in Dominic’s eyes as affection, never realizing it was nothing more than guilt. Turned out I had been the villain breaking up the tragic lovers all along. It was time to step aside.

At one in the morning, my husband Grayson's phone lit up. A message from Leah popped up on the screen: [I sprained my ankle during rehearsal. It hurts so bad I can't sleep. Can you come hold me?] Watching Grayson throw on his clothes, I leaned back against the headboard and nearly laughed out loud. She was pouting in the middle of the night and making a married man drive halfway across Seattle to take care of her. For a twenty-two-year-old dance academy intern, she really wasn't very considerate. At least nowhere near as thoughtful as a certain sports science major I knew. That evening, Nolan had just gotten his professional motorcycle racing license and ridden his new bike across the bay to deliver the silver-gray heels I needed for tomorrow's board meeting right to my office building. Before he left, he'd pinned me between the car door and his chest in the parking garage and kissed me until my knees went weak.

During a parent-child activity at kindergarten, the teacher asks the children to draw what they want to be when they grow up. The other kids draw princesses, dinosaurs, and astronauts, but my five-year-old son, Evan Jepsen, draws a cell phone. Across its screen, he's written a message in crooked letters. "Incoming call from Annette." "Why do you want to be a phone?" the teacher asks, puzzled. "Because Daddy loves his phone more than anything," Evan replies earnestly. "When Mommy asks him to come to dinner, he gets annoyed. But whenever Annette calls, he smiles right away." The classroom falls silent, and I stand frozen in place. "Once, Mommy had a fever of 102°F, but Daddy said he was busy and couldn't take her to the hospital," Evan continues. "But when Annette said her stomach hurt, he canceled a really important meeting and carried her to the car himself. "One day it was raining, and Daddy promised to pick me up. But then Annette called, and he made Mommy and me get out of the car. "Daddy said Annette's brother saved his life a long time ago, so he promised to take care of her forever." Evan looks up at me, his voice growing softer. "If Daddy wants to repay Annette's brother, why are we always the ones he leaves behind? "If I become Daddy's phone… would he hold me all the time too? Would he listen to me when I talk, just like he always listens to Annette on the phone?" I pull him into my arms and wipe away my tears. "Sweetheart, you don't have to become a phone," I choke out. "I'll take you away from your daddy, who never seems to notice us anyway."

Despite using my cornea, my husband, Felix Halward, forced me to kneel on glass shards. Despite using my heart, my daughter declared that I was not fit to be her mother. Before my artificial heart stopped beating, I called Felix, only to have him snap at me, “Liana, could you stop kicking up a fuss? If you want to die that badly, do it somewhere far away! I’m not collecting your corpse!” I shut my remaining left eye as I lay on the snow. Later on, Felix, who had stopped loving me, plucked out his own eyeball. My daughter, who had denounced me, tried taking her life multiple times just so that she could see me again. However, I no longer longed for their love.

While strolling around the mall, I bend down to tie my shoelaces. When I lift my head again, my boyfriend, Lucas Carter, and my best friend, Kimberly Wendell, are already over 30 feet away. Just as I am about to catch up with them, I notice that the spot that should've been mine is slowly vanishing as the two walk closer and closer. Eventually, they are shoulder to shoulder as they talk about topics that I can't join in on. It's as though a third person was never there. During our university years, Lucas and Kimberly were known as the the school’s most promising “twin stars”. This continued even after we graduated, with them becoming the youngest chief physicians at the hospital. Meanwhile, no matter how hard I work, I can only trail behind them as an ordinary nurse. Lucas is always patting my head, saying, "You're cute, even when you're a little slow sometimes." Then he turns around and works seamlessly with Kimberly to perform one complex surgery after another. As I stare at their backs, I suddenly feel utterly exhausted. I no longer want to continue down this road, forever chasing after Lucas.

After I announced that my boyfriend, James Lane, and I were getting married, his childhood sweetheart came after me again. She dumped an entire bucket of chicken blood over my head, turning my pristine white wedding dress a hideous dark red. Lily Zane stood there watching me without the slightest hint of fear. She knew she could get away with it. Instead of backing down, I looked at James, who had been silent the entire time. "Are you calling the police, or am I?" This was already the ninth time this year. She'd rammed my car, slapped me, and harassed me online. Any time I dared post anything about James, there was always some new form of torment waiting for me. James had begged me to let it go, so I'd swallowed it again and again. Not this time. I dialed 911 without hesitation. James, who hadn't lifted a finger until then, suddenly snatched the phone from my hand and smashed it against the floor. Pieces went flying, and his face was dark with anger. "Are you seriously making this a big deal? It's just a bucket of chicken blood!" Calmly, I wiped the blood from my face and nodded. "Yes, I am, James. And the wedding's off."

While I was with a client looking at watches at a luxury boutique, I spotted a Chanel bag sitting on the authentication counter. "You've got a great eye, sir. This bag retails for eleven thousand dollars, and the young lady who brought it in wants to let it go for under three thousand." As the sales associate opened the inner pocket, a hand-drawn dried-flower card slipped out. "May my girl never have another worry." I wasn't seeing things. It was the seventh-anniversary gift I'd given Veronica Hale, with a note in my own handwriting. The sales associate started chatting idly. "A young woman dropped it off the day before yesterday. It's already been authenticated. She said she needed cash fast to buy her younger boyfriend a car." Younger boyfriend? A car? The color drained from my face. I opened the video account of Dylan Kerr, the college intern at her company. In the video, he was holding a slender hand in the passenger seat, their fingers laced together. On the woman's wrist was a clover bracelet. The one I'd fastened there myself three years ago. Fighting back nausea, I swiped my card and bought the bag. "No need to pack the card. Just throw it out."

I ignored my friends and family’s objections and insisted on pursuing my now-girlfriend, who was disfigured in a car crash when she tried to save her first love. Some laughed at me for being a back-up plan, but I didn’t care. I worked day and night, earning money for her plastic surgery, and stayed by her side as she walked out of depression. But on the eve of our wedding day, as I was doing her laundry, a marriage certificate dropped out of her pants pocket. The groom was her first love. I was about to make things clear with her when I overheard her conversation with her best friend. “I know Steve saved me, but if Yves doesn’t marry me, he’ll be forced into a marriage alliance. I don’t want to see him lose his freedom. “As for Steve, I’ll find someone to forge a certificate for me. Don’t blurt this out, okay…” I felt my blood then grow cold as I quietly changed the groom of our wedding three days later to her first love. By the time she found out about the surprise, I would have left for abroad, never to return.