Tragic Love Romance Short Stories & Ruthless Regret Novels

My wife, Rochelle Willoughby, went on a business trip for five months. When I picked her up at the airport, she showed up with her true love instead. I noticed her baby bump and was about to ask some questions, but she shoved me away like I was some disgusting piece of trash. "Don't touch me with your grubby hands. I'm pregnant with Samuel's baby. If you hurt it somehow, I'll kill you!" Then, she gently held Samuel Riverson's hand. "You must be exhausted. Let's go home." She left me at the airport without so much as a glance. I saw them off and quietly rubbed the part Rochelle shoved. Then, I contacted my divorce lawyer. Ten years. This marriage finally came to an end.

At my mother's funeral, my fiancé, Matt Moore, arrived with Kayla Wood to pay his respects. In front of everyone, he announced that our engagement was over. He was going to marry Kayla instead. As the whispers and laughter of the crowd swirled around me, Zach Hayden, my childhood friend, suddenly knelt on one knee and proposed. He said he had loved me for many years. Moved by Zach's sincerity, I accepted his proposal. For three years after our marriage, I remained childless. Each time the topic came up, Zach would reassure me gently that it didn't matter. As long as he had me, that was enough. But not long after, I overheard a conversation between him and the family doctor. "Mr. Hayden, I've prepared the contraceptives as you instructed. Should I continue giving them to your wife?" His voice was cold and detached. "Yes. Don't stop. Marrying her was nothing more than a convenient arrangement. In my heart, only Kayla is worthy of being the mother of my child." So, this marriage I thought was filled with happiness was nothing more than a carefully crafted lie. Since he never loved me, I no longer wanted him either.

As floodwaters rushed into the garage, I called my boyfriend. "Wade, help me... I'm trapped in here! The emergency exit's locked!" He sounded annoyed. "Tia, stop. Mandy's cat is stuck in a tree—we're handling it!" Then he hung up, taking the rescue team with him. My last hope was gone.

The medical laboratory explodes one day, and Celia Lumley and I are stuck in the fire together. My boyfriend, Xaiden Seager, gives up on me and chooses to save her first. I don't stop or beg him—I allow him to leave me in the fire. In my past life, I used my identity as the dean's daughter and the threat of Xaiden's future to force him to save me. Celia died in the fire. Later, he took over my family's inheritance and locked me in the laboratory. I was almost due for labor, but he still set a fire and burned me and our child to death. When I begged him to let me go, he laughed cruelly and said, "If not for you threatening me with your family, Celia would never have died such a horrible death! I'll make you suffer the pain she did in a hundredfold, Winifred Zalmer!" When I open my eyes again, I discover that I'm back to the day Celia and I get caught in that fire.

When a hurricane comes, my husband, the leader of a rescue team, takes away everything we've stored at home so he can save his true love. I plead, "Leave some for me. I'm pregnant." He shakes me off. "How can you be so evil? The windows at Lottie's home have already been blown away. Don't tell me you're going to sit by and watch her die! She's not like you—you're not afraid of everything. The hurricane will be over soon, so you won't need any of this stuff." After that, he leaves without another look back. What he doesn't know is that there's also a crack in our home's windows.

To the outside world, Xavier Sullivan and I are a loving couple. In truth, my father sold me to him to repay the debt he owes the Sullivan family. When the five-year contract expires, Xavier's parents want me to extend it. They threaten me and tell me I'm heading for certain death if I refuse. I have no choice but to fake my death and leave everything behind, taking only the child in my belly with me.

The house was on fire. My husband–a firefighter–rescued our son first. And the kitten his first love had left behind. Then, to comfort the frightened woman, he rushed off without a second thought. When his colleagues asked my son if anyone else was still inside, he glanced in my direction… and shook his head. "There's no one else." I was later found screaming for help, barely alive. Outside my hospital room, my son looked at me with disappointment. "Why didn't you just burn to death in there? "If you were gone, Aunt Maya could be my mom."

My wife's first love kills me without a shred of mercy. But my wife, a world-class surgeon, doesn't try to save me. Instead, she comforts her first love. "He's so ruthless! How could he hurt you this badly?" She even tells the police that I've severely injured her first love, claiming she wants to press charges for attempted murder. Then she points at my body and demands that I get up and apologize to her first love. "Charles, stop pretending! You just want me to pity you, right? Get up and apologize to Steven!" she yells.

My sister had struggled with severe depression for years, and the only thing that seemed to ease her pain was her dog, Toto, who had become her constant companion. But when her illness flared up again, Toto was nowhere to be found. Then, my husband, Lionel Cress's childhood sweetheart posted a picture of Toto on social media. [With her, it feels like you're here with me.] I lost it. I called Lionel in a frenzy, but despite being my sister's psychologist, he was completely indifferent. "Your sister has been sick for so long. How could she suddenly relapse just because Toto's gone for a few days?" When I rushed back home, I found my sister in the bathroom, her wrists cut. Later, Toto's body was discovered outside our building, with Lionel's gift to his childhood sweetheart—a ring—lying next to her. I buried both my sister and Toto, and left behind nothing but a divorce agreement. Lionel went crazy, desperately trying to find me.

Three days after my death, Dominic Sharp receives a phone call asking him to identify my body. He has an arm wrapped around a woman's waist as he says indifferently, "I couldn't care less if she's dead. Call me once she's been cremated." My body is sent to the crematorium. After putting the ashes into an urn, an employee calls Dominic again. He clucks his tongue impatiently. "Alright, alright. I'll be there soon."

My son has an aortic dissection and needs surgery. My husband is a cardiac expert, but I don't bother calling him. Instead, I take a cab straight to the hospital. In my past life, upon begging my husband, he came home with the ambulance to pick our son up. He also arranged for our son to be admitted. But because he forgot to bring his phone, his childhood sweetheart died of a heart attack when she couldn't reach him. He went missing for three months and suddenly returned one day, looking perfectly normal. He even volunteered to prepare the meal on our son's birthday. It turned out he only wanted to poison the food. He strangled me and cut my neck open. "You forced me to come home to pick our son up. Ciara wouldnt' have died if I'd answered her call that day. You and your son are murderers—you have to pay with your lives!" When I open my eyes again, I'm back to the day my son has an aortic dissection. This time, my husband manages to answer his childhood sweetheart's phone. But why is he on his knees before me and begging for forgiveness?

I sat at the table, watching the food grow cold, much like my heart. Today was my birthday. It was also Leslie Buck's birthday—Katherine White's childhood sweetheart. I unlocked my phone and opened Leslie's social media page. As expected, a new post awaited me. "Grateful to have you by my side for every birthday. Let's keep our promise to celebrate every one of them together in the future!" The photo showed two hands forming a heart in front of a cake. One of them was Katherine's. I could tell from the bracelet she wore. It was the one I had given her. I gave the post a like, then set my phone aside. Without hesitation, I dumped the dishes Katherine liked into the trash and went out to a restaurant to order the food I liked, celebrating my birthday alone. From now on, I would make sure to enjoy every birthday of mine.

I've loved my husband for five years, but he's never reciprocated my feelings. In fact, on the day after my death, he runs straight into his true love's arms. During my absence, he sneers and says, "She's up to her old tricks again." When he receives a call telling him to identify my body, he's excited. He thinks he can see my reaction to having my scheme exposed. He doesn't know that I'm long dead, though.

When my husband threatened me with divorce for the hundredth time, demanding I sacrifice myself for my sister, I did not cry or make a scene. I simply signed my name on the divorce papers and willingly handed over the man I had loved for ten years to my sister. A few days later, my sister spoke recklessly at a banquet and offended a powerful family. Once again, I stepped forward to take responsibility, bearing all the consequences in her place. When they later proposed that I become a test subject for my sister's drug research, I gladly accepted. Mom and Dad said I had finally grown into someone mature and responsible. Even my cold husband stood by my hospital bed and, for the first time in so long, gently stroked my cheek. He said tenderly, "Don't be afraid. The experiment won't be life-threatening. When you get out, I'll cook you a big meal." However, he did not know that regardless of whether the experiment was dangerous or not, he did not have to wait for me because I was already dying from a terminal illness.

I stayed by William Gavin's side for three years and proposed to him three times. He rejected me each time. With a look of utter disdain, he said, "Every time I see that scar on Whitney Spencer's stomach, I remember the baby that died in there. It just makes me think she's dirty." The words pierced my heart like a knife. And yet, I still asked him to marry me a fourth time.

After three years of pretending to be dead on livestreams, I finally earned enough money to treat my daughter. I was about to go home and tell my wife and daughter when I overheard a call between the platform administrator and my wife. The administrator said humbly, “Chairman Morgan, Mr. Wells’s livestreams have generated tens of millions in revenue over these years. “The company withheld ninety-five percent of it. Should we keep withholding more?” Stacy fell silent for a moment before answering, “No need. Three years of testing him is enough. He barely moves year-round. He even developed muscle atrophy and didn’t tell me.” John’s voice came through the phone next. He said, “Stacy, Sam can even pretend to be dead, so what if this is an act too? “Besides, Emma’s already used to Sam being gone, so she probably won’t accept having a dad again anytime soon.” After some hesitation, my wife said indifferently, “If that’s the case, then withhold it for another six months.” I smiled and tossed the diagnosis report confirming amyotrophic lateral sclerosis into the trash. There was no need for them to test me anymore. I no longer needed to pretend.

I spend ten years helping my fiancé fight and claw his way to the top. Finally, he becomes the head of the local mafia. But once he has everything, he falls for another woman. Suddenly, he wants nothing to do with the promise he made to marry me. Just as he boasts about throwing her the wedding of the century, one of his men can't hold back his confusion. "Olivia stood by you through everything. Weren't you crazy about her? And now you're marrying someone else?" Joshua Harding snuffs out his cigarette, slowly turning the silver couple's ring he shares with Abigail Mauser between his fingers. "Olivia?" He scoffs. "She's got blood on her hands. How could she ever compare to my sweet, innocent Abigail?" The subordinate hesitates. "But Olivia's sharp. If she finds out and turns against you, then what?" Joshua frowns before smirking coldly. "Belcove is completely under my control. It's not like I'll lose it without her around." Little does he know I'm standing outside and listening to every word. I drop the medicine I brought him into the trash and pull out my phone. I text his biggest rival, Michael Sheridan. "Want Joshua's turf and his life? I'm handing them to you!"

On the eve of my wedding, I was run over by my fiance's childhood friend. My life was in danger. My best friend tried to call my fiance, but he hung up directly. He sent her a text message. "Ruth is sick. I don't have time." My best friend then called her boyfriend who happened to be a well-connected celebrity. However, he said, "Ruth is sick. She needs me by her side right now." After a night of resuscitation, we looked at each other in the ward and spoke at the same time. "I don't want to get married." To our surprise, both our fiances went crazy when they found out we called off our weddings.

My husband has azoospermia. After trying all the options available, I finally conceived. However, my husband is worried my child will hurt his first love's feelings—she had a miscarriage. He tricks me into going for a prenatal checkup. In truth, he conspires with a doctor to induce labor when I'm only five months along. He says, "You must be the one with the problem. Why else is it so hard for us to have children? The baby won't be healthy even if it's born! We can have more children when you're healthier. Julie has just had a miscarriage; I don't want to aggravate her." He doesn't know he has azoospermia. I only managed to conceive this child after trying out IVF countless times and taking countless folk remedies. He will never have a child of his own in this lifetime, and I discover his true colors. I ask for a divorce, and that's when he loses his mind.

I was a sketch artist acting for the police. On a secret mission, I was discovered by a murderer. My eyes were gouged out, and my body was dismembered, unceremoniously dumped in a garbage bin. On the brink of death, I called my boyfriend, a criminal investigator. However, he hung up on me because he was busy accompanying his first love to a prenatal checkup. A few days later, he received a painting that was a vital clue to finding the murderer, but he thought I was playing tricks on him. In his anger, he tore that portrait to shreds. After he found out the truth, he spent the whole night searching through the garbage to piece it back together.