เรื่องสั้นแนว Tragic Love Romance และนิยาย Male POV ในฉาก Countdown

On New Year's Eve, I went to court for the last time. The judge asked if I still wanted to file for custody of my daughter. I shook my head and said, "I'm here to withdraw my case. I'm going to stop fighting for custody anymore. I agree with the divorce." Vivian and I had been married for nine years, and the divorce had dragged through six hearings. I spent six New Year's Eve in court. There had been no joy, only hysterical accusations. I was tired. My daughter was tired, too. So, I finally stopped holding on. I had already booked my flight home for the year.

As a world-renowned genius, I only gave up on the top universities' offer and went to the same community college as her because she asked, "Will you go to the same college as me? I'd love to see you every day." I thought I had met the right woman until her conversation with her friend suggested otherwise. "He's not my boyfriend," she said. "Think of him as a clever dog. I only keep him around because he entertains me." Her friend mentioned a name, Aidan Stewart. Her expression softened at the mention of Aidan. "Aidan isn't like him. Aidan is a blessing heaven sent to me." At that moment, I finally realized what I was to her. I didn't wait any longer. I called the professor who favored me and said, "Dr. Anderson, I'll take on the drug research."

For seven years, I've been dating Celeste Monroe, a CEO who never keeps her promises. Every time we make plans, she's either late or doesn't show up at all. The first time, her newly hired male assistant, Grady Keller, lost an important contract. I waited at the restaurant until closing, had my food reheated three times, and never heard a word from her. The second time, Grady called to say he was lost. Celeste was already downstairs when she got the call, but I sat through the entire movie without ever seeing her. After that, whenever Celeste and I had plans alone, Grady would suddenly have some kind of emergency. She would disappear without a word, then laugh it off afterward and promise she'd make it up to me next time. Then came the day I planned to propose. Once again, she vanished without warning. But this time, I didn't wait. I boarded a ferry to another country. That was when she started flooding my phone with messages, desperately begging me to forgive her.

After getting married, I followed my wife to the desert to help build up a remote research base. After months of severe drought, I applied for 17 ounces of water just to wash my hair. But as station chief, June Sheffield rejected me without hesitation. "The water supply has to go toward cultivating the samples first. You need to learn how to tough it out." Then the next moment, I came across a new post the intern had uploaded on social media. 'Wanted to try an outdoor bath, and Ms. Sheffield approved a whole ton of water without even blinking! She even set up the bath tent herself. I'm so happy.' Furious, I went straight to confront June Sheffield. Usually cold and distant, she softened her tone for once. "Conditions here are harsh. If Morgan can't handle it and decides to leave, the base will end up even more short-staffed. You're one of the core staff members. Once the project pays out, your share alone will be at least four million. An intern like him doesn't get that kind of treatment." In the end, I swallowed my anger. That was, until the first-quarter project wrapped up. When there was still no movement in my account, I nervously contacted headquarters. The moment I gave my identity, the person on the other end sounded stunned. "You're just an intern. What project bonus are you talking about? And the head of the research department has always been Morgan Wilder." I stared at June's signature on the personnel registration list and suddenly understood everything. Without another word, I packed my bags and booked a flight home. Life in the desert was bitterly cold and unforgiving. This time, I was not staying.

Nathaniel Scott has been married to Jessica Sullivan for three years, but they still have no children. Worried that Jessica might be feeling too much pressure, Nathaniel goes to the hospital to get himself checked first. The doctor studies the test results for a long moment before saying in surprise, "Mr. Scott, you've had a vasectomy!" Nathaniel immediately denies it. "How could I possibly have had a vasectomy? My wife and I both love children. We've been trying for a baby ever since we got married. That's absolutely impossible!" The doctor checks his medical records on the computer and tells him, "You had a vasectomy three months ago." A vasectomy? Nathaniel immediately shakes his head. "No! I had my appendix removed three months ago!" "The surgical records clearly state that it was a vasectomy. Your wife even signed the consent form." Unwilling to accept this, Nathaniel begs the doctor to retrieve the consent form from that day. Patient: Nathaniel Scott Procedure: Vasectomy The family member's signature is in Jessica's elegant, graceful hand. It is unmistakably hers. Nathaniel is still reeling from the shock when the doctor suddenly notices something else on the computer. "Your wife's name is Jessica Sullivan, correct?" "Yes." "It seems she just came in for a prenatal checkup. Another family member accompanied her. His name is York Lawrence. Do you know him?" He does. A year ago, when Jessica was in a car accident, York was the one who saved her.

During the holidays, I've worked my ass off just to whip up a feast filled with my wife, Willow Steele's favorite dishes. But soon, my mother-in-law pulls out a paternity test report and announces with a smile that the birth father of my daughter, Naomi Johnson, is actually Willow's childhood sweetheart, Luther Lloyd. Everyone bursts into laughter before saying teasingly that "no wonder Naomi looks so much like Luther". Willow's father even pats Luther on the shoulder while looking at him as though the latter were a part of the family. What stings my heart the most is that Willow is laughing so hard that she can barely stand up straight. So, that leaves her clinging to Luther while she taps Naomi on the forehead with a finger. "Go on, call Mr. Lloyd 'daddy.' He's your real dad, after all." Naomi, who has always kept me at an arm's length, rushes into Luther's arms without hesitation and starts calling him "daddy" sweetly. I fall silent for a moment as I watch everything unfold. Then, I draw to my feet and look at Willow. "Let's get a divorce." But Willow just chuckles icily in return. "Must you go that far? My mom was just joking around." When I'm about to leave, Willow turns to tell the others, "He's just being ridiculous. Once I give him the cold shoulder for a few days, he'll still beg me to return to his side pathetically." But what Willow doesn't know is that I've chosen to endure everything she's hurled at me out of love in the past. Now, I want nothing more than to leave her permanently.

“Shawn, Ethan and Wendy are engaged. Stop trying to come between them. We’ve already booked your flight. Stay abroad for a few years, then come back after their wedding.” Shawn Yates looked at his parents’ faces, at the way they seemed so sure they were doing what was best for him, and realized he had been reborn. He had returned to the day his parents forced him to leave the country and give up Wendy Stone for good. In his previous life, his parents talked him into leaving, but he couldn’t accept it. He told Wendy again and again that he was the one she loved. He begged his parents to tell her the truth and stop letting his brother, Ethan Yates, take his place. All it did was make Wendy despise him even more. When a car accident left him close to death, she even told the nurse on the phone coldly, “What’s he trying to pull this time? Tell him to stop trying to ruin my wedding with Ethan.”

After being forced to give my wife's first love my heart, I died in the hallway of the private hospital she had personally founded. My six-year-old son, Ash, had already begged her thrice by the time I had drawn my last breath. The first time was when he tugged on her hand, saying I was coughing up blood. Sneering, she claimed, "So he's finally learned something—teaching his kid how to lie." Then, she had the bodyguards throw him out of the room. The second time was when he clung to her sleeve, insisting that I rambled nonsense due to the pain. "It's just a heart transplant," she opined with a frown. "The doctor already said he won't die." At that, the bodyguards stepped in again and dragged him away. The third time was when he fell to the ground, clutching her pant leg with all his strength, crying that I had already passed out. She finally lost her temper by this point, grabbing Ash by the throat and hurling him out of the room. "I have already said it—Howard isn't going to die. Dare to disturb Skye's rest again, and I'll throw both of you out of this hospital," she warned. To save me, my son pawned the most precious thing he owned—his St. Christopher medal—to a nurse. "Ma'am," he said. "I don't need to live a long life. I just want my dad to live." She accepted the medal and was about to arrange for me to be transferred to the last available room. However, my wife's first love, Skye Whitley, had someone block the doorway with his pet dog. He mentioned, "Sorry, kid. Your mom's worried I'll get bored if I can't see my dog. This room is reserved for him."

My wife, Isabel Wilson, had slept with more than a thousand men, yet she still refused to divorce me. Her family called me a useless freeloader who did nothing but live off his wife. The first time I asked Isabel for a divorce was five years ago. She didn't say a word. She simply had me locked inside the house for an entire month. A month later, she threw a positive pregnancy test in my face. Three years ago, I asked for a divorce a second time. Isabel went straight back to her family's home that very night. Right after that, I was reduced to seeing my child once a week. Today was the third time. This time, I could finally be free because I realized that my child didn't love me, and my marriage to Isabel had been a lie all along. I was no different from any of the other men Isabel kept on the side.

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.

I can see flowers blossoming around a person when they fall in love. The stronger their love, the more beautiful the flowers. When Ann Liston proposed to me when I was 22, 99 white camellias had blossomed around my feet, stretching down the whole street. Seven years later, the flowers began to wither. Even so, she insisted that love always fades anyway, whereas companionship and responsibility were far more precious. That was why she no longer sneaked kisses when I'm asleep, but still came home punctually every day. That was why she no longer prepared surprises for me, but added my name into every estate. Even if work was busy, she'd spare a whole day for me every month. I was convinced that this was the ideal form of marriage too. Until three months ago, when she was caught in an avalanche in the mountains. It was the rescue team medic Martin Irwin who dug through layers of snow to reach her, carrying her down the mountains on his back when she was barely breathing. Once she made a full recovery, she spent $3,000,000 setting up a fund for rescuers, claiming that it was to repay her life debt to Martin. I never thought much of it…until our seventh wedding anniversary. We were once again in the restaurant where we had our first date on our anniversary. Halfway through it, Martin came to our table. Dressed casually, he smiled, "What a coincidence, Ms. Liston." Ann stood up, politely shaking his hand with a calm expression and demure mannerisms. In a split second, countless roses bloomed wildly around her feet, covering every inch of the restaurant. They were so much more radiant than the white camellias that had bloomed for me.

I feel unwell, so I head to the hospital alone to get myself checked. There, I find my wife, Luna Ackerman, accompanying the poor student I support financially, Levi Baker, for a health checkup. Just last night, the very same woman held me intimately in bed and said we would be together forever in every lifetime. I smile dejectedly and summon the system in my mind. "I choose to go back to my original world." What Luna doesn't know is that I'm a transmigrator. I have accomplished my mission the moment I married her. But now, I don't want her anymore.

My wife, Clara Ellis, had just died. By law, I inherited her entire data archive. Among the files, I discovered an AI version of her that she had created so her surviving family could remember her after she was gone. My daughter asked, "What's the happiest moment of your entire life?" The Clara on the screen laughed. "Why, marrying your father, of course." Her friends asked if she had ever had any regrets. "Clara" shook her head. Then another question appeared, one the real Clara had prepared for herself. "If you could restart your life at 22, would you still choose to marry Darren?" For a full minute, Clara AI said nothing. Finally, she shook her head. "No. I'd rush to the airport and convince Logan to stay." Logan Pearce had left the country when Clara was 22. She never tried to stop him because, at that exact time, I was in a car accident that took both my parents' lives. At the most devastating moment of my life, she gave up on the man she loved and chose to stay by my side for the next twenty years. Everyone had always called it an act of love. Now I knew it had been an act of pity. The next time I opened my eyes, I discovered that I had somehow returned to the third day after the accident. Clara sat beside my hospital bed. Her phone showed that Logan's flight would be boarding soon. In my previous life, I had stopped her from going. It was the first time I had ever swallowed my pride and begged someone to stay with me. That night, I had spent hours trying to convince her not to leave. This time, I ordered an Uber for her. "Logan's flight leaves in 40 minutes. You can still make it, Clara."

Three years after I had made my girlfriend, Sophia Lambert, sleep with her superior, she finally went from being his lover to becoming his wife. Meanwhile, I barely made it out alive after years of being undercover in a drug trafficking ring. My body was broken beyond repair, and I had returned home only to wait for death. Sophia arrived with one of her arms wrapped around her husband’s during a charity visit for the poor. When she saw me standing in line for relief aid, she let out a mocking laugh. “Benjamin, how did you end up like this?” I hunched my shoulders. I hid the First-Class Merit Medal for Narcotics Enforcement I had received not long ago. After a long silence, I asked, “Are you happy now?” She twirled the diamond ring on her finger in a lackadaisical manner. “The wedding’s next week. What do you think? “If you want, you can even become a groomsman. Orlando believes in diversity. His groomsmen comprises of different kinds of guys. He’s just missing someone disabled.” I shook my head and turned down her offer. “No, I won’t be able to make it.” The poison in my body had already spread to my heart. I only had a few days left.

It was the fourth anniversary of our relationship. Heather Hilmann took her friend Liam Sherr and me went to have barbecue together. The waiter recognized them and smiled, asking, "Still the usuals?" Heather nodded. It was a table by the window for two, and Liam sat on the inside. The ribeye had slightly charred edges, and the dipping sauce had no onions. She gave the first piece and the last piece to Liam. I sat near the aisle, and there was not even a dipping‑sauce dish in front of me. When they paid the bill, the waiter checked the membership records and reminded them with a smile, "Ms. Hilmann and Mr. Sherr, tonight was your 100th visit. You can take your customized grill pan home." A line of words was engraved on the back of the grill pan: [Heather and Liam, Together Forever.] The date was three years ago. I then remembered that Heather had been at the hospital celebrating my birthday that day. It turned out that the two hours she had been away were not for a company meeting. Liam touched the engraving and asked her with a smile, "After you and Ian Jeffrey get married, will we still have our monthly get‑together?"

The day I get my sight back just happens to be my birthday. I plan to drop the good news on my wife, Mya Murray, during the birthday party she is throwing for me. Instead, I end up discovering a "surprise" she prepared for me first. Wrapped in a layer of gauze, my eyes are useless as Mya carefully takes my hand, leading me into the second-floor banquet hall. She whispers thoughtfully in my ear. "Honey, I know how much you love surprises, so I had a batch of roses flown in straight from overseas to build you a flower bridge and hired your favorite live band. "Every business titan and prominent media outlet in Hartwell is right here in this room to celebrate you. Do you like it?" She stands on tiptoe to press a kiss against my cheek. "Don't worry. I promised you that even if you never see again, you'll still get everything you deserve." She has no idea that my vision is back and that I can see every single thing in the room as clear as day.

After I discovered Chelsea Stone’s infidelity, I ended the relationship without giving her a chance. I packed my luggage bit by bit. She watched me, then suddenly said, “Jensen Scott, do you know what was the most boring thing about you?” I paused and turned around. She blew out a puff of smoke and smiled in a flirtatious way. “You were so boring. You did not even know how to sweet‑talk in bed. It was so uninteresting.” I walked away with my things, and I held back my tears. Three years later, I ran into her in the hospital corridor. She wore a white coat, and the medical record book in her hand almost slipped when I bumped into her. Our eyes met. She looked me over, and her tone turned playful. “Oh, is this not my blockhead ex‑boyfriend?” I smiled and did not reply. As I left the hospital, she stepped in front of me and lowered her voice. “Three years have passed. Have you learned how to sweet‑talk in bed?” I raised my hand and showed her my wife’s ultrasound report. “I have, but not to you.”

My fiancée, Harper Turner, kept a young lover at her private estate, and his features looked almost identical to mine when I was younger. She bought Dylan Cole limited-edition sneakers, took him to exclusive venues, and made sure he never crossed paths with me. Everyone in our circle knew I was the one boundary she would never cross. She had even bought the coffee shop I frequented simply because I'd once casually remarked, "The coffee here is really good." But this time, her pampered little lover had grown bold. He filmed a private video of himself with my fiancée and slipped it into the promotional video for our wedding. "Mr. Parsons, I know I'm only her kept man, but Miss Turner switched your vitamins with sleeping pills just so she could come see me. "While you two were preparing for the wedding, she kept increasing the dosage and coaxing you into taking them. She only wanted to make sure you were asleep so she could spend the night with me." That was when I finally realized that the woman who once would have stolen the stars from the sky for me had changed a long time ago. I wiped away my tears, closed the video, and dialed a number I hadn't called in years. "Seven days from now, I'm turning our wedding into a funeral. And I'll make sure she can never find me again."

The first time I meet my girlfriend, Nadine Grant‘s parents, she stops me at the door. Her childhood friend and neighbor, Nick Lockwood, has just pulled a tarot card. The card says I'll attract trouble today, so I shouldn't go inside. Before I can say a word, Nadine reaches for the gifts in my hands. "Wait in the car for a while," she says. "When dinner's over, we'll go home together." I don't let go. "I've spent over a month getting ready to meet your parents, and you're not even letting me in?" Displeasure is written all over her face. "Andy, I'm doing this for your own good!" Before I can argue, she shoves me back into the car. Nick smiles at me through the car window. He says, "Andy, don't take it the wrong way. I'll go in and keep Mr. Grant company for you." Nadine stands beside him without looking back once. This is all happening because of one tarot card Nick pulls. I'm the one who's here to meet Nadine's parents, yet I'm somehow the last person they want inside. Then, I have no reason to become part of this family either!

A month before Wendy Johnson and I are set to marry, she tells me she wants to have another man's baby. Following my refusal, she keeps bringing it up daily. Half a month till the wedding, I see her pregnancy report. Just like that, I find out she is almost a month pregnant. It turns out she has no intention of seeking my agreement on this matter. At that very moment, my love for her for so many years dissipates for good. I'm calling off the wedding and destroying all our shared memories. On the day we are supposed to get married, I join a sealed-off research lab without a second thought. From now on, Wendy and I no longer have anything to do with each other!