Tragic Love Romance Short Stories & Cheating Novels

In my tenth year of marriage, my old childhood friend, Joshua Sears, posts a photo on social media. Both Joshua and my wife, Sabrina Lawson, are hugging his son, Andy Sears, and my daughter, Tiana Jenkins, in it. The four of them look very close to each other. The caption accompanying the post says, "Blessed to have the perfect son and daughter." I leave a comment below the post, saying, "Looking good together." A few seconds later, the post is deleted. The next morning, Sabrina rushes home and yells at me. "Ashton Jenkins! Joshua was finally feeling better for once. Why did you have to trigger him again?" Tiana shoves me hard and snaps in an accusatory tone, "It's all your fault that Andy's crying now!" I take out a copy of the divorce agreement and slam it down before them. "Yes, it's all my fault. That's why I'm stepping out of the picture now. Then, the four of you can form the wholesome family you've always wanted."

Every time I slept with Jennifer Brooks, I noticed that she had changed the sheets. After we finished one night, I finally asked her about it. Jennifer traced her fingers across my chest and gave me a gentle smile. "Obviously, it's because your good friend sweats so much. Every time, right before you and I do it, he gets jealous and insists on going first. I never knew a man could sweat that much during sex until I met him." My mind went blank. I stared at her in disbelief. "What did you just say?" She met my gaze, her lips curved into something that wasn't quite a smile. "Connor, your father was tortured to death in bed by the women your mother hired, not by me. So every time you lie there like a dead fish, you completely kill the mood. "That's your trauma. I shouldn't have to pay for it. Understand? You should be thanking Hunter. He's the one holding this relationship together." The words had barely left her mouth when the door flew open. Hunter Clayton stormed in, his eyes red, and slapped Jennifer across the face. "You've gone too far! Apologize to Connor!" I looked at the two of them, but all I could taste was bitterness. So this whole time, Jennifer had seen me as nothing more than a burden who ruined the mood. This bed had never been big enough for three people. I wouldn't force myself into it again.

I rushed back from out of town overnight when my best friend, Siobhan Coventry, went into labor. After learning that both mother and child were safe, I got teary-eyed with emotion. "Have you decided on the baby's name yet?" I asked. Her smile stiffened unnaturally for a moment. "Leonard Kessler. We'll call him Leo." "Kessler?" I stared at her in surprise. "I thought you said the baby would take your last name. Is his biological father's last name Kessler?" She gave me a vague hum before quickly changing the subject. "Ginny, I've been craving the wraps from that place in the college town." I nodded, forcing my doubts aside, and went out to buy one for her. It was only when I reached the hospital entrance that I suddenly remembered I hadn't given her my gift yet. I hurried back upstairs, only to see my husband—who had been away for two years, supposedly carrying out a classified project and never once returning home—walking into my best friend's hospital room with a bouquet in his hands. He sat down beside her bed and took her hand, his face full of concern. "You were so amazing, my love." My mind went completely blank, and all the blood rushed to my head. My hand was still on the doorknob when I saw my mother carrying the baby over to them, beaming with delight. "Look—the baby smiled as soon as he heard his daddy's voice." So her baby's last name was taken from Vincent Kessler—my husband's last name. The classified project… The whole story about having a child without the father in the picture… It had all been a lie. Even my own mother had helped her goddaughter and son-in-law deceive me. The people I loved most in the world didn't want me involved with this family at all.

It's the third year since my wife, Joyce Sinclair, cheated on me. I spread her intimate photos with her male assistant, Bryan Long, on the internet. Then, I doused myself in gasoline and threatened to drag everyone down to hell with me. Bryan's so scared that he flees the city that very night. I think I've won. However, to settle my lawsuit and cover the damages, my older sister, Rachel Lovett, sells her house and takes out high-interest loans. In the end, the burden becomes too much for her, and she jumps from a high-rise building. Her voice is hoarse in the recording she leaves me. "That's enough, Ray. We've lost everything. Mom and Dad have aged overnight, and I can't take it anymore..." Mom clutches Rachel's belongings and cries until she passes out. Dad's emaciated hands clamp around my neck as he demands at the top of his lungs, "How many more lives do you have to destroy before you're satisfied?" Tears silently trail down my cheeks, and I finally come to my senses. I no longer neurotically look into every single man around Joyce, and I stop badgering her with questions about the scent of men's cologne on her. Even when I walk in on her staring at a photo of her and Bryan and reminiscing about the past, I take the initiative to bring him back. It all comes to a head when Bryan wishes to become Joyce's lawfully wedded husband on his birthday. Without the slightest hesitation, I print out the divorce agreement, sign and seal it, and deliver it to him. To my surprise, Joyce rips the agreement to shreds. She grips my chin and demands hysterically, "Raymond Lovett, what happened to the stubborn man who'd rather die than divorce me? Where is he now?"

Zoey Samantha had an unrequited love. Only I didn't know. It was the fourth year since we were together. She forced me to donate my kidney to that person. I hesitated for a moment, and she slapped me across the face. "That's your older brother. Don't be so selfish." Helplessly, I tried to force a smile. She had no idea that I was on the verge of death.

I accidentally saw a notification pop up on my husband’s phone saying that an automatic transfer had been completed when I was using it for navigation. Immediately after that, his ex-girlfriend, Wanda Blake, sent him a message on WhatsApp: [I’ve received this month’s 10,000 dollars for child support. Thank you, Koah. I don't know what I would have done without you.] I froze. “Child support? “Koah, you told me that the money you send every month was for medical expenses for your mother’s treatment!” Koah Quinn’s expression stiffened as he explained, “Honey, don’t misunderstand. I just felt that life has become really hard for her because she’s a woman raising a child on her own. Her ex-husband refuses to pay child support, so I wanted to help her out…” I touched the old watch on my wrist. The one I had not replaced in years to save money, and felt extremely disappointed. “Your monthly salary is only 6,000 dollars. Where did you get so much money to send her?” He was silent for some time before finally admitting. “I used the money we had set aside for the new house’s downpayment.” I was stunned. He had taken the money my parents had scrimped and saved for decades for me as downpayment for a home and then transferred it to his ex-girlfriend as child support.

I am having a heart attack when Scott Lakin locks me inside the car. It's because my pain is frightening his childhood sweetheart. In response to my desperate pleas for help, he merely utters coldly, "I'll let you out when you apologize." I go into shock and have to be rushed to the hospital. I call Scott a dozen times, but he just blocks me. Finally, after I get discharged, I see him carefully feeding his childhood sweetheart chicken soup. "Have some food, darling. What if the baby in your belly is hungry?" After that, I return to my hometown without saying a word and stay there for half a month. After blocking me everywhere except the music streaming platform, Scott suddenly starts frantically searching for me. "Jennie, why didn't you add me back on Facebook this time?"

I no longer deliver meals to my husband, Zachary Smith—the man who became the factory manager after receiving a scholarship that brought him to the city—since my rebirth. I even make sure to detour using the gate at the factory's north side whenever he uses the southern gate after he finishes his meetings. In my past life, I was fully aware he took me as his wife—a humble country woman—just for the chance to move to the city. Yet, I insisted on becoming his wife, anyway. After all, I was convinced that a person's true affections could be earned and nurtured. Yet, Zachary maintained a constant, formal distance throughout our marriage. He would simply offer me a book the moment I attempted to bridge the gap, saying, "You should study more so that you don't continually attract people's contempt." I got emboldened by the drink as I threw my arms around him, yet he merely accepted the embrace rigidly, whispering, "It's just what married couples do." It wasn't until decades later, as I lay on my deathbed, that I discovered the heartbreaking words in his autobiography. In it, he stated that our entire marriage was like being trapped in a mire and that he never wanted to be with me again if he were to ever be reborn. I felt a searing pain tearing through my heart as I closed my eyes in devastating anguish. When I open my eyes again, I find myself back at the point in time when the gossip about Zachary and Juliana Ziegler, the factory's technician who studied abroad, first began to spread. In this life, I choose not to fight or cause drama. Instead, I am the one who brings up the divorce.

We have been dating for ten years, but Vincent Carter has never been romantic toward me. However, before our wedding, he has someone deliver a delicate bracelet and an elegant dress to me. I take photos of them happily, only to find a card tucked inside the dress that's not addressed to me. Just as I'm about to contact Vincent, I see a post from Emily Foster, his childhood sweetheart, on her social media. "Someone stole something that belongs to me!" That's also how I find out Vincent has also bought her an apartment. The address stated on the card is for the unit downstairs. The gift is meant for unit 701, but it's delivered to me by mistake. I pick up the items and go downstairs, just in time to see Vincent gently comforting her in his arms. The moment he sees me, his face darkens with irritation. "Can you stop overreacting? You're always suspicious for no reason. Emily and I grew up together. If we were going to be together, you wouldn't even be in the picture!" If it were before, I would've been furious and demanded an explanation. But now, I simply let out a chuckle and toss the gifts onto him. "I wish you both the best, then."

The day my daughter was fighting for her life, my wife, Shirley Hartley, was busy helping her childhood friend Oliver Burke get married. I called seventeen times. On my eighteenth try, she finally picked up. "Shirley, Nyssa's getting worse. The doctor says she needs life support now. They want twenty grand upfront. Where's the money?" Her voice turned ice-cold. "I used it. Oliver's wedding is coming up, and that stuff costs money. I'm not letting his fiancée's family look down on him. "Nyssa just has asthma, right? She coughs a little and suddenly they want twenty grand? Sounds like a scam." Nyssa lay in the hospital bed, her tiny face ghost-pale. Her eyes slowly opened. "Daddy, I want Mommy." I turned away, biting my lip hard so she wouldn't see me cry. "Mommy'll be here soon." But over the phone, Shirley snapped, "Oliver still hasn't picked out his wedding suit. I don't have time for you freaking out over this." Then she hung up. By the time I scraped together the twenty grand, forty minutes were gone. Half an hour later, the doctor came out of the ER. He pulled off his mask and shook his head. "If we'd started treatment thirty minutes earlier, she might've had a chance." Then my phone buzzed. A transaction alert. Shirley had taken the money that could've saved Nyssa and bought Oliver a $220,000 Maybach. I looked at Nyssa's blue-tinged face and called my lawyer. "Draw up the divorce papers. "And pull the records for every expense Shirley ever covered for Oliver. "I want every cent of our money back."

Ian Ludwig and I have grown more in sync in the eight years we have been married. I believe him when he lies to me that he's on a business trip, when in reality he's buying a villa for Francesca Yarrington, his childhood friend. He also believes me when I hand him a divorce agreement, saying that it is a property transfer agreement. There's still one month left in the cooling-off period before our divorce is finalized. That gives me just enough time to clear out everything from our eight years of marriage.

I've been married to Shawn Ford for three years, and he's humiliated and insulted me throughout. When he's with his friend, he brags, "The woman my Uncle Cameron can't have is licking my boots. I want to laugh whenever I see her sucking up to me." It wouldn't ever occur to him that I'm frequently in his uncle's bed, covered in hickeys and love bites he leaves on my body.

My boyfriend, Zayne Jefferson, is particularly gifted in certain ways. Every time we're intimate, he insists on trying something new. More than once, he gently coaxes me, saying, "Once you graduate, we'll get married." And I believe him. I throw myself into my studies, pushing hard to finish my credits early. At the same time, I secretly watch all kinds of videos at night and read up on techniques. I want to keep his body satisfied. One night, I stay up too late studying and miss curfew. I run to the bar to find him, where I overhear him chatting with his friends. "Zayne, is your girlfriend really that wild in bed?" one guy asks. "Of course. He trained her himself!" another guy says. "What about Yasmin?" Zayne exhales a stream of smoke, his eyes soft. "She's different. She's pure." In that moment, I begin to hate him. Back on campus, I make a call to my professor. "That secret program you mentioned… I want in." From this day on, my life belongs only to my career.

Whitney Westbrook clutches her pregnancy test results, her heart brimming with joy as she imagines how thrilled Lennox Graham will be when he finds out she's pregnant. But a little girl suddenly rushes out from around the corner, startling her. "Mommy, hurry up and divorce Daddy! He's going to get you killed!" Whitney's first thought is: Whose kid is pulling a prank on me? She manages a strained smile, then crouches down to meet Nola at eye level. "Sweetie, you've got the wrong person." "No, I don't!" Nola suddenly raises her voice. "Mommy, Daddy doesn't love you at all! He's always been in love with Winona!" Whitney's expression freezes. People in their social circle occasionally mention that Winona Sterling is the only woman Lennox ever loved in his youth. Yet everyone insists it's nothing more than a youthful infatuation, something that no longer matters. "Who are you, exactly?" Whitney's voice trembles. "My name is Nola Graham." Nola sobs so hard she can barely catch her breath. "You just found out you were pregnant when Winona got divorced. After that, Daddy devoted himself entirely to her. After you gave birth to me, your health never recovered. When I was five, you closed your eyes in your hospital bed and never opened them again." Nola throws her arms around Whitney's legs. "I made a wish at your funeral, and that's how I got here—to stop this from happening to you." Whitney takes a sudden step backward. Her rational mind tells her that none of this makes sense. A little girl suddenly shows up claiming to be your future daughter and telling you that your own husband will be the death of you. Even a novel wouldn't dare come up with a plot like that.

After my wife’s attempt to start a business failed, we lost everything. So I started working three jobs just to lighten her burden. When I was up on the thirtieth floor of a high-rise cleaning windows, there was a family celebrating a birthday inside. I looked inside enviously but unsuspectingly found my wife pushing out a cake made out of money to the older woman whose birthday was being celebrated. Through the window, I heard some conversation going on inside. “This is such a hard place to reserve, but Miss Pascal rented the whole floor out for her mother-in-law’s birthday!” “The tips she’s giving out tonight must be worth millions!” Suspended in midair, I nearly forgot how to breathe. What no one knew was that Miss Pascal’s real mother-in-law had just died in the hospital not long ago.

The night before our engagement party, my fiancé's childhood sweetheart, Sabrina Payton, told me she had a special bridal surprise planned for me. She lured me into the glass conservatory on the hotel rooftop, locked the doors from the outside, and turned on every sprinkler. It was December, and a storm was raging outside. Freezing water poured down on me while I stood trapped inside a room made entirely of glass. The guests held up their phones downstairs, filming as I stood there soaked and shivering. She smiled at me, looking sweet and innocent despite the cruelty shining in her eyes. "Doesn't Melanie love acting like she's above everyone else? Let's see what she looks like when she's freezing and begging for mercy." On the other hand, my fiancé, Jay Harrison, stood downstairs and watched me through the pouring rain. He said in a cold voice, "Just make sure she doesn't die. Someone from a background like hers needs to learn the hard way that marrying into the Harrison family isn't that easy." Later, I smashed through the glass and made my way down from the rooftop. After that, I wiped the blood from my face and called my attorney. "Notify the board. Pull our investment from Harrison Group, freeze their accounts, and stop every payment scheduled to go out for Harrison Group's projects tomorrow morning. "Also, send tonight's footage to the police. Unlawful imprisonment, assault, invasion of privacy—I don't want a single charge overlooked. I want them hit with every charge that fits their crime."

My family was the wealthiest in River City, with assets worth trillions. On my eighteenth birthday, my brother, Calvin Chester, gifted me an entire jewelry production line while my parents built a private museum and named it after me. The greatest hardship I’d ever faced? Learning how to spend my inheritance. Then I met Dario Darwin. For him, I cut ties with my family and helped him build his empire from scratch. But when I was three months pregnant, he demanded I drink on behalf of his assistant, Fran Fallon, a woman “slumming it” as an intern while secretly being the heiress to another fortune. “Stop pretending,” he sneered. “You’re not like Fran, raised in pampered luxury. You’re older, so act like it and take care of your juniors!” Then, to the clients leering around the table, “My wife’s just being dramatic. She can hold her liquor. Don’t hold back—pour her another!” Amid their jeers, he left with Fran, abandoning me to a room of drunken men. Years of sacrifice, only to be humiliated. I scheduled an abortion and called him. “We’re done.” Through the phone, Fran’s simpering voice chimed in, “It’s my fault that Clea is upset… I should quit and go home to my family’s billions.” “Ignore her. She’s faking it,” Dario cooed back. On the day Dario signed the divorce papers, my parents and Calvin came to take me home. Our marriage came to an end, but his tragedy was about to begin.

On the way to buy holiday groceries, I ran into an old classmate I had not seen in years. The moment he saw Stefan Adler, the first thing out of his mouth was, "Did you know Nadine Keller is back in the country?" I looked at Stefan by reflex, only to find him smiling at me too. "Overthinking again, babe? We have nothing to do with each other anymore." Then he turned to our old classmate and introduced me seriously. "This is Elise Bauer. She was the girl from the class next door back in college, and now she is my girlfriend." I had not really overthought it. After all, Stefan and Nadine had ended badly. She had blocked him in front of everyone, and for a long time afterward, Stefan's face would turn cold whenever anyone mentioned her. I went to the next aisle to pick out snacks while they caught up. When I came back, I happened to hear the old classmate say, "Actually, Nadine asked me for your contact information yesterday..."

On the day of our wedding anniversary, my husband, Xavier Marshall, gave me a bangle. I tried it on and found it a size too big, with the bangle almost dropping off my wrist when my arm was down. I asked casually, “Why is it so big?” My husband stood in a daze for a second before wrapping an arm around my shoulders and saying with a smile, “I found this bangle beautiful, but it didn’t come in your size. You can still wear it even if it’s a little big, right?” I thought nothing much of it and happily put it back on. During a family gathering, I saw my husband’s best friend, Melissa Shanks, wearing a glass-grade jadeite bangle on her wrist. She smiled as she answered someone’s question, “This? It’s a birthday gift from Xavier. There were two of them, but I didn’t fancy the other ice-grade one, so I just kept this. “It’s hard to find a bangle in my size. I didn’t expect him to find two at one go.” I quietly hid my wrist under the table as my face flushed with embarrassment. The gift I had so treasured turned out to be a leftover from Melissa. Melissa, and not me, turned out to be Xavier’s priority. In that case, I no longer wanted the man or the bangle.

After I exposed Scott Brophy's emotional affair online, I was ordered to post an apology video every day for fifteen days straight. [I should not have made your explicit chat logs with Ms. Kelsey Rowe public, and I should not have forgotten to blur them out.] [I should not have secretly recorded your flirty voice messages with Kelsey when I knew about them, and I should not have spread those recordings everywhere.] To show my "sincerity," I even included photos of the two of them along with their real names. ... Scott was furious and humiliated. Every time I posted a video, we'd end up in a huge fight. Then my thirteenth video went up. This time, I tagged his assistant, Kelsey, and offered her a "formal" apology. He stormed off in anger, yet to my surprise, he didn't lash out at me. I naively believed he was finally ready to admit his mistake and come back to our family for good. The next day, I cooked his favorite dishes and brought them to his office. The moment I pushed the door open, I was hit by the sound of intimate gasps and panting. Scott had his little assistant pinned down as she tried to get away, a nasty grin on his face. "Since we're already under suspicion, we might as well go all the way. Otherwise, the two of us are getting a raw deal." Seeing my eyes turn red, he sneered, "Who's to blame for this? You drove me to it." I stood there, frozen. It wasn't just Scott who was dirty now. Our seven-year marriage had been tainted too.