Tragic Love Romance Short Stories & Marriage Novels

Five years ago, Gary Cooper proposed to me 99 times just to marry me. Five years later, to cheer up the secretary he adored, he handed me 99 divorce papers. "Relax. I'm not actually divorcing you. I'm just humoring her. Just pretend like you always do. There's no need to sign." When Gary said it, he was even smiling. As for me, the heartbreak I once felt had long since faded. Now, there was barely a ripple left. I suddenly remembered what day it was and asked quietly, "Will you be home for dinner tonight?" He paused for a moment, then casually shook his head. "Probably not. Today's kind of special. I don't want her to get jealous." I nodded and watched him walk out the door. Then, I picked up a pen and carefully signed my name on the 99th divorce agreement.

Three days before the wedding, I was cleaning out some old boxes when I remembered the time capsule Natasha Rowe and I buried ten years ago. When I mentioned it, her face stiffened for a moment. She quickly tried to talk me out of going. "It's been so long," she said. "Someone probably dug it up already." I didn't think much of it and went back to our old high school alone. At the spot where we buried it, I started digging. Instead of one box, I pulled out five metal containers of different sizes. Two of them were the ones Natasha and I buried ten years ago, their surfaces rusted and worn. But there were three others. One of them was just as rusted as ours. The other two looked almost brand new. The old extra box had a name scratched into the lid. Vince Houle. On it were the words, [My secret crush was a war I fought alone. Natasha, I hope you're happy.] I remembered him then. He had been a quiet guy who sat behind us in class. The kind of student no one really noticed. The two newer boxes had names carved into them, too. Natasha and Vince. The date etched into both of them was today. On Natasha's box were the words, [The greatest regret of my life is that I couldn't marry you.] On Vince's box were the words, [The greatest regret of my life is that I can't openly congratulate you on getting married.]

My husband had a severe addiction for physical intimacy. However, in the seven years of our marriage, he never touched me, not even once. To suppress his urges, he soaked himself in bone-chilling ice water every night. His arms were covered in needle marks from constant injections. It broke my heart to see him like that. I offered myself to him many times, but he insisted on simply giving me a restrained kiss on the forehead before saying, “Don’t be silly, Summer. I’m not like those animals. How could I ever bear to hurt you? For you, I’d gladly live the rest of my life in a platonic marriage.” This strange, almost obsessive restraint of his lasted seven years. Despite the numerous times he pushed himself far enough to end up hospitalized, he still refused to cross that line. Then, on our wedding anniversary, a young woman named Anna Brandt came in for her ninth hymen restoration surgery. After the anesthetic was administered, her cheeks flushed red. As her mind grew hazy, she started crying weakly like a lost kitten. Looking at the love bites scattered across her body, I shook my head and assumed she was just another girl who had gone astray. That was until I heard her last tearful whisper. “John Shaw, you jerk.” My hand trembled and I nearly dropped the scalpel. Because my husband’s name also was John Shaw.

Damian Graves and I had been together for ten years, and he was perfect in every way. He was handsome, successful, and driven, except for one thing. He never missed a chance to cut me down. I placed second in the competition instead of first, and he said I "wasn't smart enough." I finally earned my first paycheck from writing, and he dismissed it as "completely worthless." Later, standing in the bridal shop, Damian looked me up and down in my wedding dress and told me my figure was not good enough, that I did not look anything like a bride should. Something in me snapped. For the first time in ten years, I screamed at him. "If I'm not good enough for you, why are you even marrying me?"

When Cole Harrington ran away from our wedding for the seventh time because of his childhood sweetheart, the Harrington family personally came to apologize. "We'll add another five kilos of gold to the bride price. Three buildings in the Southwest. And nine prime-location storefronts in the city center. Consider it the Harrington family's compensation." Before the words had fully settled, a careless laugh from Cole came through the phone. "Grandpa, do you really think she's worth that much? Believe it or not, I could pick up a random rock off the street and still coax her into being completely obedient. "Instead of wasting all those assets on her, why not give them to me so I can invest them in Liv's gallery?" Henry Harrington hurriedly hung up the phone, then looked at me with an awkward expression. Soft snickers rippled through the crowd. Everyone was waiting for me to swallow the humiliation in silence, just as I had before. But this time— I had already received this kind of "compensation" six times. The novelty had long since worn off. The same was true for Cole himself. After a moment of thought, I raised an eyebrow and glanced toward the crowd—at the illegitimate younger brother whom Cole had always despised the most. A smile slowly curved across my lips. "The man that I marry becomes the heir to the Harrington family. That was our deal, right?"

On the night of our wedding, my gold-medal lawyer wife, Aurora Sterling, abandoned me and tangled herself with her assistant, Kieran Holt. Kieran barged into our bridal suite carrying his vegetative-state fiancee, Elara Holt, and demanded we swap spouses. I refused without hesitation. Right there on the spot, he drugged me and forcibly locked me in a room with Elara. Meanwhile, he held Aurora in our newlywed bed and used eighteen condoms that night. The next morning, I stormed into the office to confront him. Instead, I saw Aurora kneeling between his legs. When she noticed me, Kieran shuddered and quickly pulled away before standing up. "Rowan, Aurora didn’t get enough last night, so I brought her out for some fun again. Don’t worry. This will be the last time. I won’t disturb you two anymore." He turned to leave. However, Aurora stopped him reluctantly. "Kieran, you're not the one who should leave." Then she turned to me, her face dark with anger. "Elara became a vegetable because she saved my life. I have an obligation to fulfill a wife’s duties for her. "From now on, I’ll accompany Kieran on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays. The rest of the days I’ll stay with you. I’m even giving you an extra day, so you should be satisfied." As I watched the absurd scene unfold before me, rage finally exploded inside my chest. Just as I was about to erupt, my phone suddenly chimed. Ding. "Hey, handsome, your skills are pretty good. Interested in developing a long-term arrangement?"

I had been on a business trip overseas for less than six months when I suddenly received a call from the hospital. "Mr. Jones, your wife is having a difficult labor. Should we proceed with a C-section or try to continue with a natural delivery?" The words hit me like a bolt of lightning. I stood there, frozen. When I left, my wife had not shown any sign of pregnancy. How could she be giving birth less than six months later? I quickly dialed her number. The moment the call connected, I heard her cries of pain. "Honey, what's wrong?" From the other end of the line, I could hear a nurse urging her to push harder. However, my wife forced her voice to sound calm. "Sweetheart, I just slipped and fell a moment ago. It's nothing serious. You should keep focusing on your business trip. Don't worry about me." As I listened, the faint sound of a baby crying filtered through the phone. My grip tightened so hard around the phone that it nearly cracked. "Is that so? Then, get some rest," I said calmly. After hanging up, I immediately called my father, the richest man in the country. "Dad, Rebecca's cheating on me. She's in the delivery room right now, having another man's child. Stop all investments in the Harris family immediately. I want her thrown out with nothing to her name."

No one knew that three days ago, the aloof CEO in the boardroom, Sophia Monroe, had been tangled up with me in her executive office, going at it for eight intense rounds. I thought Sophia had finally agreed to what I had been asking for. But then she pulled her dress back on, turned around, and disappeared without a trace. She was gone for an entire month. I stayed by Mom's grave for what felt like forever. Suddenly, my phone buzzed with the latest trending news. It was about Sophia's wedding of the century, but I was not the groom. At that moment, I was grateful Mom had not lived long enough to see Sophia's true colors. Before shutting off my phone, I sent her a message. [Monday. Courthouse. Divorce.]

To prepare for a baby, my wife, Daphne Sinclair, suggested we start working out together and keep each other accountable by tracking our daily step counts. While I was away on a two-week business trip, she ranked first on our Fitbit leaderboard every single night. Then one day, my neighbor suddenly sent me a video. The location tag showed it was filmed right in the parking lot beneath my apartment. "Bro, impressive. Your wife's even hired a personal trainer for her workouts now? That Maybach suspension really hits different." In the video, a pink sports bra I had never seen before hung from the driver’s side window. The car rocked rhythmically, accompanied by Daphne's restrained yet excited breathing. I dialed her number. "Where are you?" Her voice turned soft and coy. "On the treadmill, sprinting. Honey, I'm working so hard for our baby." "Really?" I chuckled. "You've worked so hard the entire neighborhood knows about it." Holding the phone, I said slowly, word by word, "Open the door. I'm bringing you a towel."

In the third year of Lyra Hawthorne's engagement to Ryder Calloway, he found himself a beautiful grid girl named Nova Voss abroad. The day before Valentine's Day, he deliberately brought Nova to see Lyra and demanded to break off the engagement. "Nova and I share the same interests. A simp like you will never understand the thrill of racing." Lyra refused to accept it and asked, "Does it have to be today?" He laughed. "Do you need to check the calendar to call off an engagement?" She nodded and didn't argue any further. A month later, she entered the same race he did. What he didn't know was that she had understood the thrill of racing long before he ever did. Later, she got married on his birthday. With reddened eyes, he asked, "Does it have to be today?" She smiled as well. "Of course. You do need to pick an auspicious day for a wedding."

When my older brother, Ivan Goldsmith, gets drugged, I'm forced to strip down and use my body as an antidote for him. After I get pregnant, Mom and Dad tell us that we're not blood-related siblings at all. They then ask him to marry me. Ivan nods in agreement. But on the same day, he gets into a car accident after he goes racing. I don't mind him having crippled legs. In fact, I insist on becoming his bride. I thought Ivan would be touched upon hearing my declaration and that he wanted to spend the rest of his life with me. On our wedding night, our villa goes ablaze. After waking up choking on the thick smoke, the first thing that pops into my mind is to save Ivan from the inferno. Unexpectedly, I see him smashing a vase right into my head. Before I pass out, I hear his icy voice. "You, Mom, and Dad have ruined my love life! I've given all of our assets to Vicky just to make amends to her! Since all of you have ruined my life, then you might as well die!"

In the third year of Ariel Slater's remarriage with Remi Callahan, she realizes that she's pregnant with his baby. As his wife, she does her utmost best to avoid getting into fights with him. Whenever Remi comes home late, Ariel no longer welcomes him home at the door. When Remi gets absolutely wasted at his business meetings, all Ariel does is command the household staff to prepare a hangover tonic for him. Remi is very busy with work, so it's rare for him to come home. Even so, Ariel doesn't use the landline in the family compound to call him. When she's eight months pregnant, Ariel discovers a tube of ointment in Remi's coat that's not hers. But she merely puts it back in his pocket without saying a word. One day, when Ariel visits the maternity hospital next to the family compound for a prenatal check-up, she comes across an incident that humiliates her to no end. Two nurses happen to walk out of a ward at that time. As they walk down the corridor, they chat among themselves. "Mr. Callahan cares about Ms. Reed a lot. The moment she gives birth to a son, he's quick to book her the best single-person ward in this hospital." "I heard that Ms. Reed is the widow of Mr. Callahan's dead mentor. He takes good care of Ms. Reed, that's for sure. Not only does he keep her company in the day, but he also refuses to go home at night. He really is a caring man." "But I heard that Mr. Callahan's wife is about to give birth. I wonder what will happen if she finds out about Mr. Callahan's antics…" Even though the nurses keep their voices low, Ariel still hears every word as clear as day. As she stares at Remi, who's speaking with his colleague, Ella Reed, while cradling her newborn, she feels her eyes reddening against her will. She decides to file for a divorce from him right there and then. This time, she will never remarry him, no matter what.

Throughout our seven-year marriage, my CEO wife, Ruby Irving, goes on yet another business trip on Memorial Day once again, so she can't travel back to my hometown with me. But soon, I saw the photos uploaded by her assistant, Wilbur Stork, on his social media feed that featured her sweeping the grave in his hometown instead. The caption writes, "Mom and Dad must be very satisfied with their daughter-in-law because the gloomy weather has cleared up in an instant." I chortle in amusement for a brief moment before liking the post calmly. Then, I comment, "I respect your relationship and wish you nothing but happiness." But my colleagues all go nuts over the latest bombshell. They are quick to form their chat groups and speculate as to how I'm going to cause my next ruckus in the company this time. Ruby soon calls me while sounding very stern. "I know Wilbur does things very brashly due to his young age, but you shouldn't have caused him trouble in the comment section! What will everyone else in the company think of him? How is Wilbur supposed to continue working in this company? "Moreover, Wilbur doesn't have anyone left in his family. What's wrong with me keeping him company just this once? People with happy families like you don't have empathy for others at all! "I want you to delete your comment and remove your like right now. Once the holidays are over, I'll free up some time in my schedule to go back to your hometown with you." As I listen to Ruby making yet another empty promise to me in such a casual way, I let out a soft chuckle. "It's fine." Once the holidays are over, we'll be able to obtain our divorce certificates.

I'm the scapegoat who was hired by the rich Shelton family to marry into that family under the guise of repaying them for their benevolence. But my wife, Jenny Shelton, hates me for ruining the wedding meant for her and her first love, Jackson Wembley. She has hordes of treasure under her name, and yet she only gives me five dollars every day to survive. I've starved to the point I'm all skin and bones. Jenny, on the other hand, goes through partners like mad. She even drives while under alcoholic influence in order to make her new boyfriend laugh, which results in her crashing into the generator powering in the hospital and causing my mother's death. Later on, Jenny merely throws me a black card. "Wow, you really have the heart to arrange for your mom to live in that small and rundown hospital, huh? Then again, a money-minded person like you is capable of doing everything in this world. "Take this card and get your mom transferred to a VIP ward. Don't think about stealing from this card; I'll always check the bills." But I just throw the black card away and start preparing for my mom's funeral. What Jenny doesn't know is that Jackson had chosen to flee from the altar and abandon her back then. I was just a tool hired by her family in order to comfort her. Now that my mom is dead and I'm done paying back the debt, it's time for me to leave.

To protect the assistant who had been evading taxes, she deliberately gave false testimony in her role as my superior's wife, putting all the blame on me. I protested endlessly, but the law held me accountable. I was imprisoned for two months. Upon release, my colleagues turned against me, ostracizing me and destroying my promotion chances. Seeing that I neither cried nor caused a scene, my wife assumed that I had finally submitted. She even threatened to make amends with a lavish wedding for me. However, during the wedding vows, the assistant, suddenly overtaken by jealousy, ran to the company rooftop and threatened my wife with suicide to force her to cancel the wedding. My wife, who had always been obedient to him, panicked. She abandoned everyone at the ceremony and spent the entire night comforting her assistant. Afterwards, she calmly explained: "Wilson is young and impulsive. I was just afraid he might get hurt. Besides, you were released from prison so early thanks to him. He helped a lot. By right, he's still your lifesaver. I couldn't just abandon him." I looked at the couple rings she had just put on her finger, let out a faint hum, and said nothing. She believed I accepted her excuse and was pleased, even making an unprecedented promise: once she had calmed the assistant, she would take me on a honeymoon. However, she seemed to have forgotten one thing. She had already signed the divorce papers, and I had filed a lawsuit in court to have the case heard. From that moment on, we were no longer husband and wife. We were only plaintiff and defendant.

Wendy Lloyd's first love, Hudson Clark, treats me like a walking blood bank. Because of that, I end up dying in the rented apartment Wendy has given to me out of contemptuous pity. Today is the third day of my death. My six-year-old son, Terry Heath, finally realizes that something is wrong with me. When he accidentally cuts his finger from playing with his toys, I don't coax him at all. When he tears open a pack of cookies and feeds one to me, I don't stop him at all. When he lies in my arms and grips me by the hem of my shirt while calling out to me softly, I don't respond to him at all. Feeling rather uneasy, Terry finds my phone and calls Wendy. "Mommy, why is Daddy still asleep?" Wendy responds by sending a photo of her and Hudson enjoying a holiday feast together. She then says coldly, "He's just asleep, not dead. Today is Christmas Eve, so I'm very busy right now. "Tell that arrogant father of yours that he's only free to visit me whenever he's ready to acknowledge his mistakes." After that, the call ends. Terry is left feeling stunned for a long time. Finally, he digs out the last cookie from the trash can and snaps it in half. Then, he feeds it to me again. "Daddy, let's eat."

After I register my marriage with Gabriella Archer behind everyone's backs, whenever she unlocks a new bedroom position with her childhood sweetheart, Nathaniel Taylor, she tells me that she'll throw a wedding to make it up to me. In three years, Gabriella has brought the wedding up 33 times. Of course, she has broken her promise 33 times as well. The first time she did, it was because Nathaniel's dog had died. In order to pay respects to it, Gabriella told me that she couldn't host any auspicious events for three months. I was still clad in a tux as I kept apologizing and making amends to all of our family, friends, and relatives beneath the stage. The second time Gabriella flaked out on me, it was thanks to Nathaniel's stomachache. She had the wedding car turned around so that she could buy medicine for Nathaniel and take care of him. In every wedding after that, Nathaniel would get into all sorts of troubles and ailments. I fought with Gabriella, and I lost my temper multiple times. But Gabriella often hit me with, "Nate and I are just friends with benefits. You're my actual husband here, so don't be petty." After Gabriella breaks her promise for the 33rd time, I'm finally done with her. So, I slide a divorce agreement in her direction. "The cooling-off period is over, so let's just finalize the divorce."

I refused to donate one of my kidneys to my younger sister, Ella. As a result, my parents forced me to marry a wealthy man in Pinetown. People said Johnson kept his distance from everyone else. His first love had never truly left his heart. Everyone waited to watch my miserable ending. Unexpectedly, Johnson actually deeply doted on me. During the three years of our marriage, regardless of the place, he never seemed able to keep his hands off me. Even when I went to the washroom, he followed me and pressed me against the sink. We never took any contraceptive measures. Yet, I never got pregnant. One day, when I thought I was finally expecting, we went to the hospital for a checkup. There, I accidentally overheard his conversation with a doctor. “Johnson, three years ago, you asked me to secretly transplant Amber’s kidney to Ella. Today, you want me to lie to her that she’s naturally sterile. How could you be so cruel to a woman who loves you?” “There’s no other way. Ella’s health is weak. If she can’t bear a child, she’ll suffer in her husband’s family. Only Amber’s kidney is a match for her.” The voice I knew so well sounded so cold that it felt unfamiliar. The love and salvation I had basked in so comfortably turned out to be nothing but a lie. If that was the truth, all that was left for me to do was to leave him.

On the fourth day after our son died, I decided to end my military marriage. Before that, I spent three days taking care of what remained of him. On the first day, I tricked my wife into signing the cremation papers. On the second day, I went to my son's school and collected the textbooks he never had the chance to use. On the third day, I prepared a table full of his favorite dishes and begged my wife to come home so we could celebrate his birthday one last time. She agreed. Then she turned around, claimed she had a mission, and spent the entire night setting off fireworks with her childhood sweetheart. That night, I sat beside my son's memorial photo and ate alone. The next day, she came home looking guilty and handed me a brand new backpack. She said it was a gift for our son to use at school. She did not know that our child would never live to see his first day of school.

My wife's childhood best friend returned from overseas with a child. To protect his reputation and secure the boy's future, she told everyone that she was the child's mother. And my child? She claimed that my daughter was the bastard I had brought home after fooling around behind her back. When I finally broke down and demanded an explanation, she remained as calm as ever. "Bryan has always had it hard at home," she said. "And his son cannot grow up without a mother. I have to help them." That day, I looked at the woman I had loved for seven years and decided that I would never love her again.