Tragic Love Romance Short Stories & Bias Face Slapping Novels

On my wedding day, my sworn enemy, Kieran Steel, slams his foot on the gas and rams his car straight into my wedding car. If he can't have me, then he'd rather die with me. He ends up gravely injured, while I lose my memory. He limps over to me and pulls me into his arms. His face is alight with joy as he tells me he's the man I love. After tying the knot, Kieran cherishes and keeps me hidden away like his most prized treasure for five whole years until he finally grows tired of me. A young woman named Talulah Clive shows up at our friends' gathering. Both her appearance and personality are identical to the old me. With a cheeky grin, she insists we play "Never Have I Ever". "I've been with my boss. He even stole his wife's wedding ring and gave it to me. That's not all…" Her smile turns brazen and taunting. "I'm four months pregnant with his child. You lose, Kendall! So, as punishment, Mr. Steel belongs to me for the next six months, okay? He promised he'd be there for me when I bring our baby into the world." Everyone present holds their breath, not daring to make a sound. Kieran's the only one whose dark gaze shifts back and forth between Talulah and me. After a long while, he parts his lips, yet I can't be bothered to hear what he has to say. "Sure. He's all yours!" His expression changes drastically. He has no idea that I've regained my memories. Before he enters the picture, my lover's a man named Jasper Slate. He's drop-dead gorgeous, crazy as hell, and never lets a single slight go unpunished. And I'm cut from the same cloth. With that, Kieran's so done.

Tony finally realized I had stopped telling him everything. When the company assigned me to a business trip, I signed the papers immediately without consulting him. When my best friend invited couples to her wedding, I attended alone and gave her a nice wedding gift. Even when I fell ill and needed surgery, I booked the appointment without his consent. As a doctor, Tony frowned when he found out about the surgery. "Why didn't you tell me you were sick? Give me your medical records, I'll arrange everything for you." Without a second thought, I replied, "No need. I can handle it myself, I don't want to trouble you. Thank you." The moment the words left my mouth, both of us froze. Less than a month ago... I was completely dependent on him. Back then, I couldn't even choose an outfit for a date or decide what to eat for lunch without texting him first.

I was out delivering food in the blistering heat when I scrolled past a viral couple's vlog on Snapreel. The woman in the video steered with one hand, and the line of her profile looked exactly like my girlfriend, Jenna Wilder. I took a screenshot and sent it to her. [Look, this woman could be your twin.] Jenna replied almost right away, sounding fond and a little exasperated. [Babe, don't be silly. I'm hauling boxes at the warehouse right now and I'm covered in dust.] She followed it with a photo of herself in the warehouse and told me to stay cool out there. I looked at the photo, shook my head, and smiled. Jenna would not even buy an ice cream without splitting it with me. There was no way she was the trust fund girl in that video who threw money around like it was nothing. A moment later, the vlogger posted an update. In the new video, Jenna wore a couture gown in a room filled with red roses, wrapped in the arms of a young man with a dazzling smile. The caption read, [Happy sixth anniversary to the man who's always by my side.] Jenna and I had only been together for three years.

After a fire broke out at the company, I shoved the only rescue rope into the hands of my husband, Peyton Shepherd. However, he yanked the smoke mask off my face and turned to secure it on his secretary, Hannah Russell, instead. Peyton escaped using the rescue rope, and Hannah remained unharmed thanks to the mask. I collapsed from inhaling toxic smoke, and then a falling pillar crashed into my stomach. Blood pooled beneath me. Just as the firefighters lifted me onto a stretcher, Peyton grabbed me and pulled me back down. "Serena, it's just a minor injury. Why are you lying on the stretcher? Let Hannah go to the hospital first. Her condition is serious, and she needs a comprehensive medical exam!" The firefighters and paramedics stared in shock. They looked at my blood-soaked dress, then Hannah crying pitifully over her blistered hand. My colleagues tried to intervene. "But Mr. Shepherd, Serena's injuries are clearly more severe!" Peyton snarled through gritted teeth. "Enough! I'm Serena's husband. Don't you think I know her condition? If Hannah's treatment gets delayed because of this, none of you will escape the consequences!" I pressed my hand against my slightly swollen lower abdomen and nodded, agreeing to let Hannah take the ambulance first. I decided that from this moment forward, neither I nor my unborn child owed Peyton anything.

Caleb Smith's best friend, Kevin Baker, calls me in a panic and tells me that Caleb has been in a terrible racing accident. Without a second thought, I rush to the hospital and donate two pints of blood to save him. As I walk past a hospital room, I freeze. There's Caleb—standing perfectly healthy beside a hospital bed. Kevin throws his head back and howls with laughter. "It's April Fools' Day. We actually managed to trick Winnie Jewel into donating two pints of blood. Too bad that it's useless, though. We might as well feed it to the stray dogs." Vivian Jewel, lying in a hospital bed, looks up at Caleb. "Caleb, don't you think that's a bit much?" A fond smile curves Caleb's lips as he replies, "I can't help it. Where does Winnie get the nerve to take your place? She should have stayed in the orphanage, but since she forced her way back into the Jewel family, she can't blame us for taking your side." Kevin jumps in eagerly. "This year marks the eighth year since she returned to the Jewel family, and the eighth year we've been pranking her." Their undisguised mockery spills out of the room. I pull out my phone and contact my aunt, Gianna Jewel. "Aunt Gianna, I’ve decided. Let's leave the country."

Noelle Anderson grows up with Stephen Sedgwick, the son of the family her mother works for as a housekeeper. What starts as a childhood friendship slowly turns into love. But when Stephen's father dies, everything between them changes. Stephen turns his hatred and resentment on Noelle, taking pleasure in making her miserable. After one disappointment too many, Noelle finally walks away. But the moment Stephen hears she's getting married, he becomes desperate to win her back.

I back out of marrying Yvonne Mullen, my fiancee, just two days before the wedding, even though we have been together for seven years. The staff member at the venue is stunned. "Your wedding is coming. Don't you want to wait for the bride to return and talk things over first?" I smile and take one last look at the wedding venue I personally spent three months preparing. I then say calmly, "I'm done waiting. She doesn't have the time since she's getting married to her first love in Alveria at this moment."

It's our 17th wedding ceremony, and we just make it to the vows. Right on cue, Charlie Shaw's assistant crashes the ceremony. Vivian Wilson drops to her knees in the middle of the aisle, sobbing hysterically. "Please, everyone, you have to help me find my younger brother! His name is Zachary Wilson. He went missing when he was six. He's the only family I have left!" Charlie doesn't even try to stop her. Instead, his fingers clamp down on my wrist like a vice, as if he expects me to fly off the handle. "Don't make a scene," he whispers. "Look at the press coverage we have today. I'll explain everything later." Explain what, exactly? Why did he promise me she wouldn't show up this time, only to break his word all over again? I've listened to the exact conversation 16 times before, and the fight drains out of me completely. I look up, catch the officiant's eye, and signal for him to hand the microphone to Vivian. "It's fine. Give her the microphone," I say. "It's a huge turnout. We shouldn't let the publicity go to waste." Charlie stares at me in surprise. He has no idea that I'm handing the stage over to Vivian permanently. And as for Charlie himself? I'm completely done with him, too.

I see a post on Facebook Marketplace that someone is offering a used baby stroller for free, but it's pick-up only. The villa address listed is in Oak Springs, a wealthy area across the city. I strap my son, Timmy Powell, securely into his baby carrier. Then, we travel two hours by bus and another half-hour on foot under the scorching sun before finally reaching the villa. I'm soaked in sweat by the time I arrive, and Timmy also starts crying loudly from the heat. I'm surprised to find out that the seller is also a stay-at-home dad, just like me, but he exudes a relaxed and wealthy air instead. He glances at my disheveled appearance and speaks in a tone laced with disdain and pity. "Did you come from East Bay? And you're planning to walk home like this? "My driver's about to send my wife to her company. They can give you a ride back. I'll just take it as doing charity for the poor." I thank him for the pleasant surprise and pull open the car door. However, the woman in the back seat gets out with a look of disgust on her face. "I'll sit in the front passenger seat instead," she says. I feel embarrassed at her statement. However, the moment our eyes meet, I freeze on the spot and stare at her. As it turns out, the woman is my wife, Janice Hyde, who works extremely long hours at the office every day. She also hasn't come home for Christmas for three consecutive years, claiming it's for triple pay.

My girlfriend was always extremely possessive of me. Throughout our seven-year relationship, Hannah Levin kept on repeating the same thing, “Do you have any idea how handsome you are, honey? I just want to hide you away from the world. You’re so gorgeous that anyone could easily fall for you. I get jealous whenever someone looks at you twice.” That was why she never let me anywhere near her social circle. Until one day, I stumbled across her private social media account using an anonymous profile. Three years. More than six hundred posts. Every single one of them documented her life with another man. They wandered through Skyreach Citadel, made wishes atop snow-covered mountains, and kissed openly on the streets of Silverhaven. Her latest post showed them at the beach. Surrounded by cheering and screaming friends, she kissed him for everyone to see. The caption was: When you love someone, you can’t help showing him off to the whole world. My fingers trembled as I quietly closed the page and booked a flight to Ravenport. It turned out that letting go of a seven-year relationship could only take a heartbeat.

I'm born without the ability to feel pain. That's why Julian Prescott becomes my "pain receptor". Every day, he checks my skin for injuries, counting every cut and bruise, and rushes me to get treatment whenever I accidentally hurt myself without noticing. He always says, "You can't feel pain, so I'll feel it for you." That's until his childhood friend, Rebecca Grant, moves into our home. One day, she comes to me, asking to test the temperature of her new curling iron. I nod and hold out my arm. Three seconds later, the smell of burned flesh drifts through the air. I lower my head and see a two-inch-long charred blister on the inside of my forearm. Rebecca lifts the curling iron away and casually snaps a photo, smiling as she sends it to Julian. "You really don't feel anything at all. This is so fun! "Julian made a bet with me, saying if you really didn't feel any pain, I'd have to treat him to dinner. Well, I've lost, so we're going out for dinner now. Don't tag along and kill the mood." Almost instantly, Julian replies with a voice message. "Don't overdo it. Her skin is delicate. If it leaves a scar, it'll be hard to explain. Hurry up and get changed. We should head out." For the first time in my life, I feel pain—not in my arm, but in my chest. It turns out the only way I can feel pain is when my trust is broken. And this time, I don't need Julian to feel it for me.

It was near the end of May when I got off my night shift and got a call from my younger self, right before the SAT. "Eight years from now, am I happy? Am I living abroad, or working at Collins Corporation? "Charlotte said I don't need the SAT. She's taking me overseas." He sounded excited, already planning to spend the next few days doing whatever he wanted. I looked down at the grease on my uniform. Behind me was a cramped factory dorm, a cramped room packed with 12 beds. "Charlotte's getting married today," I said. "But you're not the groom." He sucked in a breath. "That's impossible. She said she'd marry me." Last night, Charlotte Collins texted me. [Don't come tomorrow. You work at a factory. You'll embarrass me.] His voice caught. "Who is it? Do I know him?" I said calmly, "Open the math worksheet in your bag. Finish it, and I'll tell you who she's marrying."

On our wedding day, right as the officiant told us to exchange rings, Charlotte suddenly leaned in and whispered, "I’ve been sleeping with your best friend." I stood frozen at the altar, completely paralyzed, yet she didn't even blink. She said it so casually, as if she were just talking about the weather. "While you were trying on your tuxedo, we were going at it in the fitting room right next to yours. "He couldn't hold back a groan, and you actually thought he was sick and spent twenty minutes checking on him. "By the time I stepped out to stand next to you, my legs were shaking so hard." All the blood drained from my face. I turned toward my best friend standing below the altar, and he beamed back at me, raising his glass in a proud toast. Just an hour ago, he had slapped my shoulder and told me I was the luckiest guy alive. "Even earlier today, while you were getting your hair styled, I was sitting in his lap. I got so nervous I bit his lip until it bled." Charlotte looked down at the ring resting in her hand before saying indifferently, "Dean, now you know everything. Whether you still want to go through with this wedding is up to you."

To save my father-in-law, I donated a kidney—but on the very day I was discharged, she didn't hesitate for a second to shove me into the guest room. "Those centipede-like scars are disgusting. Don't show yourself to me again!" In the dead of night, my wound tore open. I collapsed into a pool of blood, dialing her number 100 times, desperate for help. She hung up every single time. Meanwhile, the master bedroom echoed with Theo Reynold's low, passionate growls. In that instant, every ounce of strength drained from me. When I was admitted to the hospital, I held the military medal my mother had left me on her deathbed. That was when I remembered the woman even the mayor bowed to when she walked into a room. Without thinking, I dialed the long-forgotten number. "Commander Jennings, you once said you owed my mother a debt of gratitude. Now… I want you to marry me."

My husband has stepped out on me countless times, but he refused to divorce me. Meanwhile, his family called me a disgraceful tramp. Five years ago was the first time I asked for a divorce. Terrence Fulton did not say anything. He locked me up in the villa for a whole month instead. After that month, I found out that I was pregnant. Three years after that, I asked for a divorce for a second time. That very night, Terrence returned to his family home at Fulton Manor. After that, I was allowed to see my son only once a week. Today was my third attempt to get a divorce, and I could finally leave. I discovered that my son did not love me and that my marriage to Terrence had been fake all along. I was just like one of the women he messed around with.

Luke Ward, my wife Sandy Cramer's junior, insists on tagging along on our honeymoon. He claims he just wants to unwind after graduation. I politely turn him down, but he secretly follows us anyway and ends up collapsing from heatstroke on the very first day. Sandy turns deathly pale with panic and rounds on me furiously. "Luke is still breaking out in cold sweats! If I hadn't found him in time, he could've died out there today! We're just going to the desert to stargaze, so why can't he tag along?" "But I've already put together a complete itinerary for him and even arranged his accommodation," I explain helplessly. "He was the one who insisted on following us. He's an adult, for crying out loud. "How can he not know even the most basic survival skills before venturing into the desert? Does he seriously need you by his side every second?" Sandy falls silent. But when I wake up the next morning, I find myself dumped in an uninhabited stretch of desert. Not far away, Luke sits in the passenger seat of an air-conditioned off-road vehicle, while Sandy holds up her phone and livestreams the whole thing. "Clifford, aren't you the expert? You think Luke has only himself to blame for wandering off? Well, let's see how you like being stuck here all by yourself!" I don't even have time to worry about the camera. The scorching heat sears my skin, and I can barely keep my eyes open. Without a word, I discreetly press the button on the pendant hanging around my neck.

Yvonne Carter went to the hospital to open a prenatal record. The staff member took one look at her marriage certificate and tossed it back across the counter. "Ma'am, did you seriously bring in a fake certificate just to waste our time?" Yvonne froze for a few seconds before irritation flared. "It has an embossed seal. How could it possibly be fake?" The staff member looked at her with open disdain. "The seal is so blurry it looks pixelated. And you said your husband is Cole Foster, but he already has a wife and a child." Yvonne stood rooted to the spot, her mind buzzing. The people waiting behind her began complaining impatiently. Seeing the commotion, a security guard immediately came over and pulled her away from the counter. She shook him off, furious, and pulled out her phone to call Cole. She tried more than a dozen times, but he didn't answer once. Then a dull, dragging ache suddenly tightened low in her abdomen. With no time to think about anything else, she hurried to the ER to get checked out. The doctor told her it was only a reaction to the emotional stress. Reassured, Yvonne finally left. But the moment she stepped out, she spotted Cole standing not far away. She was just about to call his name when she heard a nurse speaking up ahead. "The child's fine. Once this IV finishes, you can take him home." Yvonne froze in place, stunned.

On April Fool’s Day, my CEO husband cut out my heart to save his childhood sweetheart's son. After the surgery, he tossed me into a cold rental apartment, where I died in agony. Three days after my death, my five-year-old daughter played in the room as usual. Walking by the sofa, she wrinkled her little nose and mumbled, "Mommy, there's a weird smell in here." She touched my face and murmured, "Mommy, are you pretending to be Snow White? Why are you so pale?" She shook my arm harder and raised her voice, "Mommy, it's my birthday today—get up and blow out the candles!" Confused, she picked up the phone and called her father. “Daddy, did I make Mommy mad? I lit the candles, but no matter how much I call her, she won’t wake up.” On the other end of the call, Patrick Hart’s voice was cold and impatient. “What could possibly be wrong with her? She’s just pretending to be asleep for sympathy. It’s Johnny’s birthday, I’m busy. Don’t bother me! Tell your melodramatic mother to stop playing her little tricks. I don't have time to humor her." My daughter removed the candle from her bun, pinched off a piece of the bun, and fed it to me. "Mommy, I made a secret wish… I really wish you could hold me again, just like before."

I broke up with Nicole Hayes, my girlfriend of ten years. It was not her or I who initiated it, but her male nurse at the hospital. Nicole suffered from severe congenital anemia. For ten years, I donated blood to her for nothing in return. During our eleventh year together, just when we were about to get married, I overheard the male nurse in charge of her transfusions say, “Wow, Miss Hayes! Don’t tell me you decided to marry this guy just because he’s been donating blood to you. “You probably don’t know this, but the hospital has a donor compensation policy. Each donation comes with a thousand-dollar stipend. “Over the last ten years, this guy must have made at least $200,000 off you, yet he still has the nerve to guilt-trip you into marrying him? How shameless!” Under Nicole’s shifting expression, he added with a smile, “Maybe I should be the one donating blood to you instead. I also have a rare blood type, but I don’t want money, and I’m not asking to marry you. I’m just kind-hearted and can’t stand people who emotionally manipulate patients.” Seeing the obvious change in her expression, I let out a soft laugh and said, “In that case, let’s do that.” Over the past ten years, I had donated blood to Nicole twice every month. To recover, I forced myself to eat pork liver until I felt like vomiting, and at one point, I became so thin that I was nothing but skin and bones. I thought Nicole understood everything I had done for her. I never expected that a few words from a stranger would make her truly believe I had been profiting from my suffering. Even more unexpectedly, she also came to think that marrying me was nothing more than emotional coercion. If that was how she saw it, fine! I would give her what she wanted. Still, she had better pray that nurse would keep his promise of donating blood to her.

Everyone said I was Liam Reed's simp. He suffered from congenital hyperalgesia—a condition that made even the slightest bump send waves of unbearable pain through his body. So when his enemies attacked him, I took a knife meant for him. When his family subjected him to brutal punishment, I endured ninety-nine lashes in his place. Each time I suffered for him, Liam would hand me a point card. "Mathilde, every time you take the pain for me, you earn 0.1 points. Once you reach 100 points, we'll get married." For five years, I accumulated points, nearly dying more than once. Finally, my score reached 99.9 points. One day, I went to the hospital for a follow-up appointment. Years ago, I'd shoved Liam out of the way of a speeding car and taken the full impact with my legs. My injuries had never fully healed, and lately, the pain had grown worse. While waiting for my appointment, I happened to see him accompanying his first love, Victoria Adams, who had disappeared years ago, to a prenatal checkup. As I waited, I overheard Victoria say she wanted Liam to experience labor pains for himself. I knew Liam better than anyone. Even a routine injection made him clench his fists and grit his teeth. There was no way he'd agree to something like that. Yet, without a moment's hesitation, he lay down in the simulator chair and let them turn up the intensity. I stood frozen behind the glass partition, watching him writhe in agony. He was in so much pain that he nearly lost consciousness, yet he never once asked them to stop. By the time he came out, my old injuries had flared up so badly that my legs had gone completely numb. "Victoria just came back after all these years. I can't abandon her now. If you keep making a scene, I'll wipe out every point you've earned," he told me, his face pale from the pain. I smiled faintly. "Forget it. I don't want that final 0.1 point anymore."