Tragic Love Romance Short Stories & Mistress Cheating Novels

After three years of courtship, Noah Howell finally agrees to marry me. However, on the day of our marriage, he abandons me on the altar in pursuit of his dream girl, Isabella Dawson. Furthermore, due to Isabella's baseless accusation, I end up in the sanitarium. While I suffer unimaginable torture in the sanitarium, Noah and Isabella are enjoying themselves out there, living the time of their life. By the time he remembers to bring me home, I'm already a broken soul. Later on, Noah begs me on his knees, his face full of tears. "Sadie, look! It's me, Noah!" With a sneer, I ask, "Who's Sadie?"

The day I turn 18, Jacob Pratt and I make a promise to watch the sunset at Crescent Lake together after we graduate from college. He says that when the sunset spreads across the lake, we'll have a bright future waiting for us too. Four years later, the day finally comes. But on the day we're supposed to leave, I suddenly come down with a high fever and have to stay at the hotel. That evening, I still can't bring myself to miss the sunset I've been waiting years to see. So after taking some medicine, I go to the lake alone. When I step onto the viewing platform, I see Jacob kissing my best friend, Susie Kinsella, under the sunset. His best friend, Andy Hall, is holding a camera, grinning as he records them. Susie leans against Jacob. "What if Hannah finds out about us?" Andy snorts. "You've hidden it from her for six months without getting caught. Why are you worried now?" "When are you going to tell her?" Susie looks at Jacob. With his eyes on the sunset, Jacob replies calmly, "I'll tell her when we get back. I promised to come with her to Crescent Lake, and I've kept my promise." He pulls Susie close. "From now on, you're the only one I'll share views like this with." Their laughter blends into the cheers from the crowd. No one notices me just a few steps away. I take off the necklace Jacob gave me, put it on the bench by the lake, and leave. At 18, I thought watching a sunset together was the perfect ending to love. At 22, I finally understand that even though the promise has been fulfilled, the person who promised to watch it with me has already fallen for someone else.

Five years ago, I gave up my research achievements for love. Then, out of the blue, Marcus Parker's childhood friend made her return to the country. Using the excuse of playing truth or dare, they did everything that couples did together. I reminded Marcus not to go too far, but he just gave me a helpless look. "Claire, if I really had something going on with Hannah, I wouldn't have married you." I watched as he chose to abandon saving my mother for Hannah Carter's sake. He even hung up on me when I got into a car accident. When I woke up again, I learned that my unborn child, who was not three months old, had died in my womb. I finally gave up all hope and handed him the divorce papers. "Marcus, let's get divorced." A month later, I boarded a plane bound for Andoria.

At the end of the year, I went to the spa and discovered a stranger had been using my VIP card. When I logged into my personal profile, the last three treatment records were not under my name. The preference section listed specific details about someone else. She was allergic to rose essential oil, preferred lavender, and her heating pad temperature could not exceed 108 degrees Fahrenheit. Her menstrual cycle fell around the 15th of each month, so no waist or abdomen treatments during that time. I stared at the screen, my palms turning cold. Only my husband, Zachary White, knew this password. At the time, he said he needed it to check the balance and renew my membership. I scrolled down and found a system note at the bottom: [Birthday treatment reserved for December 30, prepared according to Ms. Anderson's preferences.] Today was December 30. My phone vibrated. Zachary had sent a message: [Working late tonight. Won't be home.] Familiar laughter drifted from the hallway. Through the glass door, I watched Zachary walk into the adjacent room with his arm around a woman, the beautician hurrying forward to greet them. "Mr. White, we have Ms. Anderson's birthday treatment ready, just as you requested."

I loved Cassidy more than anything. Although she had been involved with countless men, and she had even cheated on me with Henry, the fake heir, I still couldn't bring myself to let her go. I worked out, took medication, and did everything I could because I wanted to have a child with her. When the doctor finally told me today that I met the required fertility criteria, I grabbed the test results and rushed straight to her office. "Cassidy, I–" My voice came to an abrupt halt. Cassidy was passionately kissing her new male secretary with her arms wrapped around him. She glanced at me impatiently. "Get out!" I suddenly came to my senses. I could accept having a wife like her, but could our future child accept having a mother like her?

The night before the World Cup, Reid Callister made a post on social media. In the photo, he wore a Portugal jersey and was smiling at the woman beside him. He had written something sweet: [Officially done with Argentina. It's all Ronaldo from here.] Our mutual friends all went quiet. Everyone knew that the night Argentina won the championship four years ago, he had cried in my arms until dawn. That was also the night he slipped a ring onto my finger. He said, "Messi got his fairy tale. Let's go get ours." Someone in the comments section asked what happened to his Messi obsession. He replied, "I was young and stupid back then. Now, I know who's worth rooting for." I stared at the post for a long time. I did not comment. I just set down the divorce papers on the coffee table. Before I left for my flight, I tucked the ring into the pocket of his blue-and-white jersey. This time, I would not be watching the game with him.

I left Seaport for Crellan, thinking I was about to marry Bryson. Instead, I got drugged and kidnapped on our engagement day. Barely conscious, I caught him talking to his assistant. "Doctor and kidnappers—handled?" Bryson said. "Get her kidney. Lily's out of time." The assistant wavered. "She's not in great shape. This could ruin her." That gave Bryson a flicker of guilt—but it vanished quick. "She's not fragile like Lily. She's a broke student. If her kidney didn't match, she wouldn't be living like this. That's worth it." His face stayed ice-cold. I clenched my fist so hard my nails dug in, blood pooling in my mouth. So that was true Bryson—a monster in disguise. He thought I wanted to sell my health for some empty marriage. Too bad I never wanted it.

Everyone is envious of me for having someone like Dominic Cruz, who's love-brained, as a husband-to-be. He's rich, handsome, and highly educated. I smile without saying anything, but I nod happily. However, on the day I'm misdiagnosed, he goes missing. He's so engrossed in his secret lover that he forgets all about me. So, I jilt him before he can do it to me. I turn him into the city's laughingstock. Later, I hear that he drinks the bar dry every night. He scours Marina City but fails to find his missing bride.

The day the campus queen got caught shoplifting at the convenience store, I was reborn. This time, instead of pulling her into the back room for a private talk, I called the cops without a second thought. The cops locked up my childhood sweetheart, the campus goddess Samantha Creighton, for fifteen days. During those fifteen days, I cut every tie between us. After that, I dodged her completely. Whenever she organized a class gathering, I fell deathly ill. Whenever she traveled to the southern coast, I flew to the far northwest. When she went to a reunion, I got sick. When she went home, I went abroad. When she returned to school, I dropped out. I avoided every situation that might bring me near her. In my past life, I loved her for twenty years. But in all that time, she never once treated me with any real kindness. I finally found out why during a fire at our house. I held her and our daughter outside the window, shielding them until rescue came. They got out without a scratch. But my entire body was burned beyond recognition. Then my own daughter—the one I raised with everything I had—pulled her mother's one true love close and said, "He deserves this. Back then, he tore you and Mom apart. He should die for it." My wife stood beside them and sobbed uncontrollably. "I almost thought I'd never see you again." I died full of hatred. Now that I'd been given a second chance… since she loved her first love that much, I'd make sure they could stay together.

Being naturally competitive, I must take first place in any game. So, when someone on the yacht suggests playing the no-looking-back game, everyone laughs and says I'm sure to win. The rule is that I stay where I am and can't turn around. If I do, I lose. My girlfriend, Selena Hodge, and good friend, Ivan Motley, stand behind me. Meanwhile, my older brother, Mack Carson, is in charge of finding a way to trick me into looking back. Not long after the game starts, Mack suddenly shouts, "Chuck, Selena is holding Ivan's hand!" When Mack sees that I don't even bat an eye, he says with a smile, "You're really not going to look back? Those two are already hugging." I remain unmoving. That is, until Mack says drily, "Chuck, they're kissing." Even though I know it's a trick to make me turn around, I still do it anyway. Ivan's head is bowed, while Selena's face is tilted upward. The two of them are indeed kissing. My mind goes blank, and I walk over to pull the two apart. Ivan's face instantly goes pale, and Selena too falls silent for a long time. In the end, it's Mack who finally speaks up. "Chuck, the two of them must have just acted on impulse. Besides, we all thought you'd never look back for the sake of winning. Who'd have guessed you actually did?" Only then does Ivan speak. "Chuck, I'm not going to lie to you—Selena spent four years chasing me. We just don't want to look back on our four years in college with regret." I have always known that Selena spent four years chasing a guy in college. During those four years, I watch her get drunk over that guy and comfort her as she curses him for having no taste. However, I never know that guy is Ivan. Yet, everyone knows. Only I am always the one kept in the dark.

My husband, who's a negotiation expert, allows his intern to recklessly anger some criminals. It causes me, the hostage, to suffer severe injuries in the explosion, and my right leg breaks because of it. Yet, my husband once again issues a letter of forgiveness for her. "My wife, as a reporter, ignored warnings and forced contact with the criminals to get the scoop. The main responsibility lies with her. Kimberly, being a newcomer, should not bear major fault." I don't cry or make a scene. I simply pull out a divorce agreement. However, he sneers at me. "I know you're just jealous and want me to comfort you, but don't cross the line." For the past three years, I've brought up the topic of divorce 47 times, and each time, he treats it like I'm just throwing a tantrum. But it's different this time. His name has already been signed on this divorce agreement. As long as I add my signature to it, it will take effect immediately.

As Zayla Scott, my husband's first love, pushes me down the stairs, he's in the kitchen, thoughtfully making her a warm drink. When she sees I survived, she hires someone to assault me and has me thrown into the bear enclosure at the zoo. It's only after the bears tore me apart that my husband finally remembers I exist. "All I did was refuse to take time off to pay my respects to your mother with you. How could you be so cruel, Joey? You're a zookeeper—it's your job! Why would you force Zayla, who's pregnant, to care for savage creatures? "Get over here and give Zayla a blood transfusion right now, or I'll dig up your mother's grave myself!" He doesn't know that all that's left of me is my broken body.

On our wedding night, my wife, who almost never drank, got wasted because she was supposedly too happy. Just when I didn't know what to do, my best friend sent me a long message explaining how to take care of her. I blushed, but I still followed his instructions and soothed her the way he described. Natalie, who had been making a scene, miraculously quieted down. But just as I was about to call my friend and thank him, Natalie suddenly hugged me from behind. Heartbroken, she whispered, "Ashton Hawke, you're the one I wanted to marry." As she said it, the tattoo near her heart slipped into view: a hawk with its wings spread wide. My mind went blank. Ashton Hawke was my best friend of twenty years. Natalie hadn't gotten drunk because she was happy. She had gotten drunk because she hadn't married the man she truly wanted.

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.

My boyfriend and I had been together for eight years. We were already discussing marriage when Robbie suddenly asked me to wait a little longer. He said he needed to hold a grand wedding with his first love before he could marry me. Because, as he explained, for his first love—who struggled with anxiety—marriage was her greatest wish in life. He couldn't bear to see her spiral into self-harm under the weight of her illness, so with tears in his eyes, he promised to give her a home. Stunned, I asked what would happen to me. Instead of answering, he snapped impatiently, "Can't you show some empathy? It's just a year or two more. Are you really that desperate to get married? "And another thing… lend me your ring. Let Lucy wear it for now. You won't be needing it anytime soon." I stared at the man before me, someone both familiar and suddenly a stranger, and felt only a cold, hollow ache in my chest. But at last, I saw his true face behind the mask. Later, I chose to attend their wedding. I brought with me a very special blessing.

“Joseph, I’m begging you for the last time. On account of how young Rachel is, can we please extend the agreement?” Mrs. Gibson pleaded. Joseph said firmly, “Mrs. Gibson, we previously agreed that I’d divorce Chloe once the six years is up.” “Alright then,” Mrs. Gibson sighed regretfully. “I respect your decision. It’s been tough on you these few years…” “Thank you. Please keep my plans to go abroad a secret for now.”

I've been married to Derek Gunther for many years. Every anniversary, he tells me the airline scheduled him for a flight, then sends an expensive pair of earrings to smooth things over. But on our ninth anniversary, I accidentally overhear him joking with his friends. "Derek, you spend every anniversary with Ivy—and Sienna still hasn't caught on?" "No wonder she can't get pregnant. After all, you give all to Ivy." Derek exhales a stream of smoke and says, "Ivy gave up everything to be with me. I owe her a real home. As for Sienna, I stopped loving her after she miscarried. When the time's right, I'll file for divorce. It's unfair, sure—but I'll make it up to her with money." What Derek doesn't know is that he won't get that chance. It's on our anniversary that I'm diagnosed with late-stage ovarian cancer. Since he stopped loving me long ago, I'm ready to walk away on my own terms. Derek, from now on, we're done.

My son, Leo Hayes, is the city's top SAT scorer. He dies in a horrific accident while working a part‑time job, his body left broken beyond recognition. And on the night he takes his last breath, his mother and my wife, Madeline Shaw, stands beneath chandeliers, toasting the graduation of her childhood friend Jeffrey Locke's son, Melvin Locke. For 18 years, Madeline spends everything we earn on Melvin's medical bills, and our debts soar past the million mark. To hold our family together, I grind through 14-hour days every day, while Leo shoulders five jobs after school. But on his way to a shift, Leo is mangled in a terrible crash. The impact fractures his skull and rips open his abdomen. He is bleeding out, and the doctors say he needs a huge amount of money, fast, to save him. "Dad, I'm done fighting. I just want to see Mom," Leo begs, clinging to his last breath. I call Madeline over a hundred times in desperation, but she never answers. When I rush to her workplace, I find her hosting a graduation party for someone else's son. "A beachfront villa from Mrs. Hayes, in recognition of Melvin's brilliant results." "A high-end sports car, as a token for a future filled with success." "And an unlimited black card, to safeguard his health and happiness forever." From the edge of the crowd, I watch Madeline and Jeffrey locked in an embrace under the lights, and I dial her number for the 101st time. "Leo wants to see you one last time." "Lucas, I'm in the middle of something. Just be patient and stay with Leo. I'll be there soon." Before I can say another word, the line goes dead. I lower the phone and look up at the stage. "Madeline, our son is done waiting for you, and so am I."

By my third month on the job, I discovered that my coworkers had been calling me "the old crow" behind my back. The nickname came from none other than Jace's condescending secretary—because at 32, I was still clutching onto an eight-year relationship that hadn't ended in marriage. I confronted Jace. "Do you know your employees have been calling me the old crow?" He didn't even bother to look up. "That's just Sadie—she speaks her mind and means no harm. You're 32; why get so worked up over what a young girl says?" Then he gave me a faint, mocking smile. "Though honestly, it's a pretty fitting nickname." It felt like a cold hand had wrapped around my heart. So that was it—eight years of my youth, nothing more than a joke to him. I turned and walked away, handed in my resignation, and blocked every way he could reach me. But for the first time, the man who had always seemed so calm and untouchable finally panicked. "Elara," he pleaded, "please come back."

As I sign the form to terminate my pregnancy, the doctor asks me for the third time, "You were willing to risk your health to keep this baby. What changed?" I press my hand to my belly. "A bottle of essential oil." Yesterday, the moment I open the car door, a sharp wave of rosemary hits me and sends my morning sickness spiraling. I reach for the window, but Adrian Lockwood grabs my hand. "Don't open it. Sloane loves this scent. She'll be upset if it fades." I freeze. "I'm pregnant. This isn't safe for the baby." He frowns, his voice full of impatience. "Stop being dramatic. You always use the baby as an excuse. It's just essential oil. What's it going to do?" Then he pulls the bottle from the glove compartment, places it right next to my air vent, and cranks the dial higher. "Just tough it out. We're almost home. Sloane can't fall asleep without it." The smell thickens until my eyes sting and my temples throb. I don't say another word. I quietly unbuckle my seatbelt and get out. Adrian never indulges my moods. He leans over, slams the passenger door shut, and drives off. I stare at the ultrasound, at the tiny shadow that already has a heartbeat, and close my eyes. If he doesn't care about me, I don't need him either.