Tragic Love Romance 短篇故事與 Face Slapping 小說

Rowan Remington finally accepted my marriage proposal.  He told me to dress up, saying he had prepared a surprise for me.  But when I arrived in my finest attire, Rowan did not present himself as the groom.  Turning to my half-sister, Lisa, with a playful smile, he said, “You always complain that weddings are tedious and dull. Today, I’ll show you an interesting one. What do you think?”  Just then, my elder half-brother, Miles, loudly declared, “The wedding is on hold!”  Suddenly, my childhood friend, Nathan Keller hurled a water balloon—prepared in advance—at me and it smashed down on my head, completely drenching me.  Rowan arched a teasing brow at me. “It was just a joke, Tessa. You didn’t actually think I was going to marry you, did you?”  The so-called wedding was nothing more than a farcical performance to entertain Lisa, who was suffering from depression.  As I stood in stunned silence, Rowan chuckled and added, “If you’re that desperate to get married, why not pick someone from the guests and tie the knot right now?”  So, I did.  I walked down the aisle with a new groom in hand.  That’s when they panicked.

Every April Fools' Day, my boyfriend joined his childhood friend in the same cruel prank, pretending to propose to me. Last year, I slipped the ring onto my finger, my heart full of hope. Suddenly, the mechanism snapped tight. Pain shot through my hand, and I cried out. He apologized afterward and promised that, this year, the proposal would be real. As such, I arrived carefully dressed, believing him. Instead, I was met with a face full of cake. He reached out gently, wiping the cream from my face as if it were nothing more than a harmless joke. However, this time, I took a step back. After six disappointments, I chose to walk away. So why was it that, in the end, he was the one consumed by regret?

Mom has picked two potential brides for my younger brother, Elliot Wilson, and me. One is Sarah Hawkins, a wealthy heiress whose eyes never leave Elliot. I'm left with Melissa Wright, a daughter from a family of scholars. She's blind and confined to a wheelchair. I don't look down on her. Instead, I take her to see every specialist I can find. For that, I spend all my savings and continue working hard to support her. Every doctor says there is nothing physically wrong with her legs, suggesting that it might be psychological. So, I take Melissa to the beach to feel the ocean breeze. I take her traveling, letting her experience the rivers and the warmth of spring. Then, Elliot and I get abducted. When a kidnapper is about to stab Elliot in the chest, Melissa suddenly sprints forward. She grabs me and shoves me directly in front of Elliot. I watch in horror as the knife pierces my heart. Behind her, a crowd of bodyguards calls her "Ms. Wright" respectfully. That's when I realize she isn't paralyzed, she isn't blind, and she isn't from some modest family of scholars. She just doesn't want to stand by my side or even have me in her sight. "I'm sorry. My family is the richest in town. My dad wanted me to fake it to test your character. You passed, but I just can't love you. Even if Elliot didn't choose me, I couldn't let him die. I'll make it up to you in another life." When I open my eyes again, I've returned to the day Mom is choosing our brides.

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."

My son just had surgery. I'm sitting by his bedside in the hospital when I come across a post online. "What's the worst thing you've ever done?" One anonymous comment stands out. "I used the upperclassman who funded me as a stepping stone. My sponsor was rich but clueless. After she paid for my entire college, I slept with her husband and got pregnant. "The craziest part? My son and her son were born on the same day, but my husband swapped the babies. Now, she treats my son like he's her whole world, working day and night to give him a better life. "But her own son lives with me, wearing hand-me-downs and eating leftovers. Today, my son had surgery. I was worried sick, so I slapped her son hard a few times. "Oh, and her family just got a three-million-dollar payout for relocation. My husband is going to the hospital later. He's going to use the excuse of buying a house near the schools to get the money. "Once we have the money, I'm buying a villa. Then I'll get my son back and kick her out!" The post includes a blurry photo of a boy begging on his knees. My breath catches because the charm on his wrist is the same lucky charm I gave my son the day he was born. Just then, my husband pushes open the door to the ward and walks in. "Honey, Sean's starting elementary school soon. Let's use that relocation money your mom received to buy a house near the schools."

Grandma lay bedridden, her dementia taking hold as she repeated Scarlett Hayes's name over and over. Tears streamed down my face as I dialed my wife's number. When she picked up, Scarlett sounded irritated. She said she was working late tonight and would call me back when she was free. I could clearly hear the sound of a man's laughter in the background. The moment I hung up, Grandma gasped sharply. She called out my wife's name. It was her last breath. While I sat drowning in grief, Scarlett's male best friend Chase Morrison posted a video update, geotagged at a couples' hotel. In the video, their fingers were laced together. The woman's arm bore a distinctive black mole I recognized instantly. The caption read: "When two hearts become one, why care what anyone else thinks?" In that moment, my heart turned to ash. I gritted my teeth and left a comment. "Let's file for divorce tomorrow. Then you two can be together openly and legally. You'll even save on the hotel fees. Win-win, right?"

I go deaf in an attempt to save James Duncan. He falls to his knees before my parents and begs them to let me marry him. He says he'll care for me for life. He finally passes his five-year test, but he sleeps with his lover before our wedding. He does it before my very eyes. He clamps a hand over her mouth and says, "Be quiet. Don't wake Layla up." His lover giggles and nibbles on his palm. "What's there to be afraid of? She's deaf; she can't hear us." James doesn't know that I've already regained my hearing. He and his lover are also unaware that their behavior is being livestreamed.

After I started dating Ryan Kellogg, I gave up the little rituals I had loved for twenty years. No birthday cakes. No fireworks on New Year's Eve. No more searching for the restaurant with the prettiest view on our anniversary. Ryan always said real life didn't need all that decorative nonsense. He only agreed to a modest engagement dinner because I insisted. But when he arrived that evening, he was wearing a perfectly tailored suit. Our friends and relatives looked at him with new respect. I was thrilled, convinced he was finally learning to meet me halfway. Then, on the drive home, I happened to see a post from Sophie Bennett, the younger graduate Ryan had been mentoring. In the photo, she stood beside him outside Bellhaven State University, wearing the heirloom brooch his late mother had meant for his future wife. Her caption read: My mentor said he never expected the first time he'd wear a full suit would be for my graduation. I scrolled farther. Ryan had sent Sophie flowers and a cake for her birthday. He'd even helped celebrate the adoption anniversary of her dog. I touched the empty place above my heart and felt something inside me turn cold. His romance was a privilege reserved for Sophie. Our engagement dinner had merely fit into his schedule. As we entered our apartment complex, Ryan tapped the steering wheel. "Han, I gave you the engagement dinner you wanted. Let's just do the courthouse ceremony next week and skip the wedding." I put away my phone and smiled. "All right." He was right about one thing. There was no reason for us to get married.

I had been a manservant for three women of nobility. The first was the sick and weak Crown Princess. She used me to experiment on medicine to save her childhood love who had been sent to another kingdom far away as a political hostage. The second was the scheming Ninth Princess. She clutched me by the collar and sneered, "How dare you covet the true heart of your master when you're just a mere pawn?" The third was the pure and aloof High Priestess. She turned away from me while saying, "You're just a lowly, unrefined manservant who is nothing but a speck of dirt in my eyes." When I was of age, I accepted the Palace's grace to leave and prepared to return to my home village and marry my childhood friend, who was also a Palace maid. The Crown Princess snatched the edict for my release and kept me locked up in her private quarters, while the ruthless Ninth Princess said with tears in her eyes, "You're mine, even in death." As for the High Priestess, she stepped off her pedestal and begged me, "Don't go, I'll marry you." Wait. I thought our relationship was just master and servant. What was going on?

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.

Valentine's Day falls on the same day my boyfriend's company goes public. I spend one million dollars reserving an entire hotel, certain that Michael Cosby is finally going to propose. After all, he promised to marry me once he made something of himself. I wait for ages, only to receive a curt message saying he has something to take care of. Feeling crushed, I go on Instagram and unexpectedly come across a post from my best friend, Winona Ashe. "Back in Mr. Cosby's hometown for the wedding. Congratulations, Lylia! After everything you've been through, you're finally getting your happy ending!" The photos show a small-town wedding, with Michael as the groom and his secretary, Lylia Sutton, as the bride. Unable to believe what I'm seeing, I leave a single question mark in the comments, and that exposes everyone else who has been betraying me behind my back. Linda Cruz, the manager who personally got hired at the company, is the first to comment. "Holy shit, Winona. Did you forget to hide this from the golden goose?" The receptionist, who constantly fawned over me as the future Mrs. Cosby, joins in, "Great. Now the spoiled princess is going to throw another fit." Even an intern I've sponsored chimes in, "What if she gets petty and pulls her investment? Wouldn't we be screwed?" Finally, Peter Crane, the deputy CEO I personally mentored, reassures everyone. "Relax. Ms. Jenner only gave us the seed money. The company's already public, so even if she cashes out, it won't make any difference." How ironic. I spent six years helping Michael build himself up from nothing, only for him to betray me, and every person at the company I bankrolled all the way to its IPO betrays me right along with him.

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.”

After graduation, just before I was supposed to start working at my boyfriend's company, I got a phone call from myself twelve years in the future. I could barely get the question out fast enough. "Well? Did my genius boyfriend's startup make it?" My future self laughed softly. "It did. His company goes public when he's thirty-two, and by thirty-five, his net worth is over ten billion." I was ecstatic. "So I make it big in the industry right alongside him, right?" There was a long silence on the other end. "You have two kids, and at the company, you're in charge of... ordering takeout, filing reimbursements, hiring people, and putting together reports." I froze. Her words suddenly came faster. "So listen to me. Take a different job. "Don't work for him and spend your time doing whatever needs doing. Take the development job at that major tech company that offered you a role. "Three years from now, the Director of Engineering gets fired for bribery. You'll have a shot at taking his place, with an annual salary of five million. "Once you get that first year's salary, don't buy a car. Buy two small apartments in Briarport's old district. Two years later, that area will be redeveloped to support a new free trade zone. The relocation compensation will be enough for you to start your own company without taking out a loan." I hurried to ask, "What kind of company?" "AI." She told me about all the changes the industry would go through over the next twelve years, then carefully walked me through several crucial turning points I needed to remember. There were only ten seconds left on the call. I stopped her before she could hang up. "One last question." "Xenia Wells, is your dream still alive?"

During summer break, I returned home unannounced, hoping to surprise my family. But the moment I stepped through the door, my elder brother, Ronan, called the police. "Hello. I'd like to report a burglary at my house." Only when the police officer handcuffed me did I snap out of my trance and scream, "Dad, Mom, Julian, don't you recognize me? I'm Alba!" My parents shook their heads in unison. "We don't know her." Even Julian Murphy, the man I had dated for five years, averted his gaze. "I guess she's a stalker who thinks I'm her boyfriend." I spent fifteen days drowning in despair. Finally, my best friend, Samantha Lynch, showed up and bailed me out. I couldn't help but complain bitterly about the absurdity of the situation. "Sammy, how could Ronan do this to me? If it was a prank, it wasn't funny…" But Samantha offered no comfort. Instead, she took me to a five-star hotel. Before I could ask why we were there, I looked out the window—and froze. Outside in the courtyard, Julian and my twin sister were kissing passionately among the rose bushes. My parents stood nearby, smiling proudly as they raised their glasses to the guests. Samantha sighed. "There's one thing I need to tell you. Julian has always been in love with Bianca. It was their engagement ceremony the other day. However, your unannounced return triggered her, and she almost committed suicide. Your untimely return almost ruined the wedding. You already had Julian to yourself for five years. Why don't you let him go now and give them the happiness they deserve?" As confetti poured down like rain, two trails of hot tears marked my cheeks. Everyone I knew had worked together to protect Bianca, as though she were made of glass. But they treated me like an outsider. And from beginning to end, I had been the only one left in the dark.

I took the car in for service, and the mechanic found a copy of "The Expectant Cat Owner's Handbook" wedged between the passenger seat and the center console. The cat's name was Daisy. My wife, Marie Briggs, was listed as the owner. I stared at the page for a moment. We didn't own a cat. Just then, Marie called. I kept my voice casual when I asked her about it. "Hey, the mechanic found a cat care handbook in the car. When did we get a cat?" She gave a little laugh. "Oh, it's for that pregnant stray outside my office. I felt sorry for her, so I took her to the vet. She had her kittens last month. You should see them now. Everyone at the office spoils them." I chuckled and told her it was nice of her to look after them. After we hung up, I opened the handbook again and checked the details. Ragdoll. Two years old. I had seen photos of the stray and her kittens on one of her coworkers' social media accounts. The mother was a short-haired tabby, nothing like the long-haired breed listed in the handbook. I closed the handbook, noted the vet clinic's name, and drove over.

As Dad lies on his death bed, he rasps to me that his only wish is to watch me get married. I keep crying to the point that my sobs come out silent. My entire family turns to look at Whitney Pearson, who stands behind me. She lets out a small sigh before wiping my tears away for me gently. Then, she leads me out of the ward. But as soon as the door is closed behind us, Whitney's expression turns icy. "Joseph, we've been dating for seven years. You of all people should know very well that I hate getting coerced into doing something the most. "Love is all about going with the flow. We shouldn't let others determine how our relationship should progress." Then, she caresses my cheek reassuringly. "Let's not rush our marriage. We'll talk more about this once things settle down after my company goes public. What do you think? "Anyway, I still have a meeting to get to tonight. You should deal with your family as you see fit. I'll bring a gift for you when I come home later." Before I can say anything, Whitney spins on her heel and leaves with her secretary, Kaiden Xavier. The moment both of them disappear into the elevator, I witness Kaiden bending over slightly to brush Whitney's hair from her face for her. She makes no move to stop him at all. After drying my tears, I return to the ward and take Dad's hand with a smile. "Don't worry, Dad. I'll get married in three days. In fact, I'm still waiting for you to do my tie for me before the start of the ceremony."

The day I was diagnosed with late-stage stomach cancer, I curled up alone in the hospital hallway, trembling from the pain. I called Ethan Ford ninety-eight times. He rejected every single call. On the ninety-ninth try, he finally picked up. But instead of his voice, I heard Claire Leedon laughing. Then Ethan spoke, his voice cold and impatient. “Stop pretending you're dying. Claire's afraid of the dark. I can't leave her.” I opened his social media page. His latest post was a photo of them kissing beneath the Northern Lights. “You're the only one I'll ever choose.” I laughed until I coughed up a mouthful of blood, staining the diagnosis report in my hands. Then I tore it to pieces and tossed them into the trash. Ethan Ford, you got what you wanted. I’d never bother you again.

When I get married to Zachary Lennor, I know that he has a younger, depressed sister who's a huge pain in the ass. On our wedding night, she suddenly barges into our room with the excuse that she's terrified of the dark. That's why she wants Zachary to sleep with her. When I get hospitalized due to my illness and need Zachary to take care of me, his sister insists that he go home to eat all three meals with her every day. Otherwise, she'll go on a hunger strike. Even when Zachary and I are on a date, his sister will call him immediately, claiming that her depression is acting up. If he doesn't go home right away, she will jump off a building without hesitation. Unable to take it anymore, I unleash my anger on Zachary's sister. But Zachary is quick to shield her from my ire. With an icy expression, he tells me, "I only have one sister, whereas I can always get myself another wife. If you can't stomach her presence at all, we'll get a divorce right now." I keep tossing and turning in bed at night, unable to sleep at all. That's when I decide to get out of bed just so I can apologize to Zachary and his sister. As soon as I walk to the doorway, I hear a familiar voice whining from the master suite, where Zachary stays. "Zach, since Samantha got so mad at me today, does this mean she's found out that I'm not your actual sister at all, but your ex-wife?" Zachary pauses momentarily before saying reassuringly, "Even if she does, it's fine. Although I do love her, I've already vowed to stay with you forever the day I married you. "So, even though we're already divorced, I will still keep my word. I won't let you go." At that moment, I finally realize that Zachary's so-called younger sister is just a fake identity. Her depression is also a big fat lie. I'm the only one who's been kept in the dark about everything in this performance. In that case, I'm not going to humor these jerks anymore.

Ever since we were kids, I'd always known how to make use of my gentle childhood friend for things like sending him on errands, and borrowing his allowance. He never complained. Just silently indulged me. Things continued the same way until the day we got engaged. That's when everything snapped into place. That was the day we both woke up. I was just a throwaway character in a novel. He was the male lead—fated to fall in love and end up with the novel's heroine. I was stunned. Ready to walk away. But he was furious. Jaw clenched, eyes wild. He grabbed my hand and dragged me straight to City Hall. "Screw the novel. Screw the plot. The only thing I know is that I love you, and I want forever with you." After we got married, he treated me like I was made of glass. Gentle. Meticulous. We worked side by side, building a reputation as a power couple in the business world. The events of the novel faded into the background. I fell deeper in love with him. Three years later, the youngest daughter of a real estate tycoon started her internship at our company. That day, there was a fire in the office. In the chaos, the girl stumbled into a shelving unit. It came crashing down, headed straight for my husband. I didn't hesitate. I threw myself in front of him. Pain exploded in my skull. Blood poured down my face. The girl, in her panic, had fallen to the ground, crying out, "Aaron, help me!" My husband's face went pale. His expression—pure terror—as he ran toward her without a second thought. "Grace!" he cried. Lightning split through me. My face drained of color. The heroine in the novel—her name was Grace.

My fiance, Adrian Hale, and I had planned to go snorkeling on Valentine's Day. The day we landed in the south of France, I discovered that his first love, Vivian Clarke, had come with us. They insisted on heading into unpatrolled waters. "But those waters are dangerous, shrouded in strange rumors..." Adrian frowned at me. "Sophie, do you have to ruin the mood right now?" Vivian smiled and hooked her arm through his. "With you here, nothing is going to happen to us." Once we were in the water, Vivian recklessly swam toward the deeper channel. A swell shoved half her body into a narrow opening. I swam over to pull her free, but she thrashed and drove her heel hard into my knee. Her elbow knocked my mask crooked. Before I could straighten it, Vivian kicked me into the opening. Adrian came up behind us, grabbed Vivian, and held her hand tight. The voices over my underwater headset were muffled, but I still heard Adrian's cold warning clearly. "Vivi doesn't know these waters. You do, don't you? "You led her into deeper water on purpose. Who exactly were you trying to hurt? "Figure your own way out. Consider it the lesson you've earned!" Briny seawater flooded my throat. My aching legs kicked uselessly. My body was wedged fast in the opening. I closed my eyes in despair. My last thought was this: if I died, they deserved to pay with their lives.