Tragic Love Romance Short Stories & Scumbag Novels

On the last day before the college application portal closed, Juliette Larkin watched Colton Hayes reach for the mouse, delete the university choice they had agreed on together, and enter a completely different school. The school he picked was the one her best friend, Kelsey Tyndall, had been dreaming about for three years. Juliette's fingers went stiff over her keyboard. She could not process what she had just seen. "Colton, did you put in the wrong school? Why'd you suddenly pick Lakewood?" Colton closed the browser tab without so much as a glance her way. "It's not wrong. I'm not going to Stanmore anymore, Juliette. I'm going to Lakewood with Kelsey." "Why?" Juliette stared at him, unable to believe what she was hearing. "We said we'd go to Stanmore together. You promised me." "It hit me that Kelsey's always loved the sycamore trees at Lakewood, so I'm going with her. You can just pick whatever school's nearby. It's not like your scores could get you into Lakewood anyway." His profile was calm and indifferent, while she was close to tears. The day their college entrance exam results came out, Colton had scored 650. When he asked about hers, Juliette had only smiled and said, "It's about the same as yours. We can go to Stanmore together, Colton." The truth was that she had scored 705, a full 55 points more. And the full score for this exam is 750. Even so, she had never once considered changing her plans. However, he was choosing Kelsey over her. In that case, she would choose her future over him. Juliette took a deep breath, turned to her computer, and changed her application. She was not going to Stanmore or Lakewood anymore. She was going to Kensington University, one of the country’s top-ranked schools, far away in the north.

At an alumni gathering, our former class representative, Ryan Fletcher, suggests we play "I've Got Something You Don't". Madeline Rothsford, the class belle back in the day, lowers her gaze before shooting a quick glance at Theodore Crawford, who is picking the tomatoes off a pizza. Then, with reddened eyes, she says, "I once had someone crash my wedding and try to get me to run away with him. But I turned him down." The whole class erupts. "No wonder Theodore insisted on organizing this alumni gathering right after you got divorced! So this was all to rekindle an old flame!" Theodore looks up, but before he can say anything, his friends from another table call him over for a toast. Madeline picks up the slice of pizza Theodore has picked the tomatoes off and says wistfully, "He was heartbroken after I rejected him that day, but he still remembered to pick the tomatoes off my bruschetta because I'm allergic to tomatoes." Everyone lets out a collective sigh. Then, someone turns to me. "Natalie, weren't you Maddy's bridesmaid when she got married? Didn't you see the whole wedding-crashing scene?" I shake my head. Instead, I remember how, the day after our wedding, Theodore once shed a tear over a ring. Since he holds on so dearly to the past, and I've spent three years forcing myself into a marriage that is never truly mine, I suppose it is time for me to leave.

Everyone says that the Crown Prince of the Kingdom of Landor, Prince Colin Livingston, loves me to the core. But on the day of court presentation, he bypasses me and presents the princess consort's diamond ring to my elder sister, Monique Payne, instead. However, I'm not the least bit upset. I even smile and congratulate Colin, saying, "I wish you and my sister a lifetime of happiness, Your Royal Highness." In my past life, I caught Colin rolling in the sheets with Monique when I was six months pregnant. I flew into a rage and accidentally killed her with a sword. Colin hated me for the rest of my life after that. When he finally ascended the throne, he posthumously crowned Monique as his Queen and even registered the many children I risked my life bearing for him under her name instead. I was heartbroken, requesting a royal decree to depose me as his wife. However, he tore up the royal edict and imprisoned me inside the palace instead. "You are my wife. And you will never escape me in this lifetime!" Ultimately, while I was still locked up in my room, our enemies ambushed and attacked the palace, setting fire to the place. And despite being struck down by numerous arrows, Colin still used every last ounce of his strength to protect me and save me from harm. Just before his death, he wiped away my tears with bloody hands and whispered into my ear, "Don't cry for me, Merry. I was the one who let you down in this lifetime. "But if there ever is a next life, I hope that you will let me be with Monique instead." I agreed in a trembling voice. But when I open my eyes again, I realize that I have gone back in time to the day the Crown Prince chooses the princess consort. So, I help him fulfill his wish this time.

A single typo cost the company a billion-dollar contract, and my boyfriend, the CEO, punished me by making me do everyone else's work. My day began at 3 AM, cleaning the office, then taking on all the grunt work: buying coffee, delivering documents, and more. After hours, I'd be out drinking with clients, negotiating new contracts, and sleeping less than two hours each night. I pushed myself relentlessly, driven by my boyfriend's promise to marry me once I recouped the company's losses. The moment I finally did, I overheard his secretary complaining to him, "Mr. Smith, do you remember when she fined me twenty bucks? It was so unfair! "Thank you so much for sneaking in that contract with typos to prank her for five years... Now that she's paid for it, the debt is settled, and I've forgiven her. You should fulfill your promise." However, my boyfriend snorted in disdain. "You were just a couple of hours late, but she'd punish you that severely—that's just poor leadership. "And it's true she settled her debt, but she wants to marry me too? Hell, no—she must get me a billion-dollar contract first!" I crumpled the medical report confirming I had cancer, my pain beyond words. Well, I was going to die, so that was not going to happen.

For five years, Cora Mitchell had been secretly married to Ethan Caldwell, yet they maintained a strictly professional superior-subordinate relationship at work. During the day, they treated each other like any other boss and secretary. At night, they couldn’t keep their hands off each other. No one knew they were husband and wife—until a video of Ethan pinning Cora against his office desk went viral. In the footage, Ethan gripped her waist with bloodshot eyes, his voice still hoarse with desire. “Cora, keep moaning. I love hearing you.” The video had barely surfaced when Cora was branded a homewrecker and dragged to the police station. One side of her face was swollen, and her clothes had been torn off, exposing bruises and marks all over her body. The people surrounding her pointed and sneered with contempt. “Have you heard? She’s a mistress! She used her position as his secretary to seduce Mr. Caldwell. She deserves whatever she gets, even if she’s beaten to death!” Cora struggled to defend herself. “I’m Ethan Caldwell’s wife, not his mistress!” A slap came out of nowhere, sending her stumbling back and nearly toppling to the ground. "Mr. Caldwell belongs with Madison Parker!"

“Miss Green, the results show that you have late-stage pancreatic cancer. The situation isn’t good for you. If you give up on treatment, you might have less than a month left. Are you sure you don’t want to receive treatment? Will your husband agree to it?” “I’m sure that… he will.” After I hung up, I surveyed the empty house and felt sadness fill every fiber of my heart. I had thought that the pain I felt was due to my dear old friend, gastritis, but it was cancer. I sighed and looked at the picture on the table. The eighteen-year-old Zach Stone stared at me in the photo. It had been years since, but I still remembered how the snow had fallen on my hair. At that time, Zach had smiled and asked whether this counted as us growing old together.

On our seventh wedding anniversary, my husband, Nate Anderson, told me that he had offended a mob boss. On the same night, he sent our daughter, Poppy Anderson, and I to go into hiding in the desert. Halfway through the journey, I recalled that I had forgotten to pack my daughter’s asthma medication. Hence, I quickly went back. However, I saw Nate celebrating with his friends in our mansion. “Nate, aren’t you worried that Lila and Poppy are going to starve in the remote area that you’ve sent them to?” Nate said indifferently, “Don’t worry about it. I’ve repackaged the unsold dog food from Emma’s shop and sent it to them. They won’t starve.” Emma leaned her head against Nate’s chest. “Baby, you’re so smart. Do you think our child will be more like you or me?” Nate looked at her lovingly and kissed her. “Regardless of who our child resembles, I’ll love him or her the most.” His friend could not stand it anymore. “Since you don’t love Lila, why did you marry her and have Poppy with her?” Nate lit a cigarette. He looked a little cross. “I only slept with Lila because I was afraid that Emma would think I was inexperienced, but I didn’t expect her to get pregnant after that one time. “I only married her out of responsibility. I feel bad for Emma. She was with me for so many years, but our relationship had no label. “If Lila finds out that Emma’s pregnant, she’ll definitely make a scene. I have no choice but to simply make up a lie and send her away.” I stood on the other side of the door, feeling chilled to the bone. Three years later, Nate video-called me with a big smile. “Lila, it’s all over. Are you and Poppy doing well? I’ll come get you.” I looked at the man, who was hugging me tightly in his sleep. “We’re doing good! My new husband keeps me very satisfied, and Poppy has started to call him ‘Daddy.’”

The day before the piano competition finals, my boyfriend deliberately locked me on the rooftop to help his childhood friend win. He stared at me intently, his voice low and steady. "You'll have plenty more chances. Can't you just let her have this one?" Later, to secure her spot in the orchestra, he went so far as to break my fingers with his own hands. I confronted him in anger, demanding to know why he would do this when we were supposed to be in a relationship. He looked at me solemnly and said, "Susan, Miranda's mother saved me all those years ago, and now I have to fulfill this wish for her." What he didn't understand was that for me, losing the use of my hands felt like losing my very life. After I made the decision to stop loving him, he shattered his own hand, hoping to get my forgiveness.

Three years into our marriage, my husband, Colin Richardson, changed the username he'd used for six years. It became "AThousandAnswers." I asked him why. Colin ruffled my hair and smiled. "Doesn't your name have 'Ann' in it, silly?" I laughed. I even took a screenshot and posted it on social media with the caption: "My hopelessly unromantic husband just surprised me with the sweetest gesture." Then last weekend, I drove his car to pick up my mom. When I connected my phone to the bluetooth, another paired device popped up: "LoveHasAThousandKnots." Love Has a Thousand Knots. A Thousand Answers. My hand slipped off the steering wheel. That night, while he was in the shower, I opened the short-video app on his phone. Pinned to the top of his following list was a girl with a ponytail. Her username was "LoveHasAThousandKnots." Her latest post read: "He really is the most clueless guy. He has no idea how to pick lipstick shades, so he just buys everything." The photo showed a man's hands cradling an armful of lipsticks. On his ring finger was the wedding band I'd hunted through three different boutiques to find. I zoomed in on the photo. Then zoomed in again. Over and over, I compared the lipstick and the ring. Without saying a word, I deleted every happy post I'd ever shared about us.

My name is Hazel Falken, and I am the only daughter of the Base Commander during the apocalypse. Even though it is the apocalypse, I am still spoiled left and right by my family and raised to be their little princess at home. My dad, Ernest Falken, is worried that I will marry into a family that will mistreat me. So, he decides to choose four husband candidates and bring them up in our own home for me to pick from when I'm older. In my past life, I chose Curtis Granger, whom I have liked for a long while, when Dad asked me to pick my husband. However, not long after our marriage, Curtis volunteers himself as a guard to be stationed outside the base perimeter. He never returns home after that, and I am left living as a widow in the safety of the base's inner district. 30 years later, when my hair has turned fully white, I decide that I can't wait for him anymore and go out to find him. I then realize that he has formed another family outside the base without my knowing. It then dawns on me that Curtis never liked me. He had also only married me because he wanted to repay Dad for bringing him up. Not long after that, a wave of zombies attacks us. Curtis pushes me down and shields me under his body. "Hazel, I know that I never should've lied to you. I'll give up my life to repay the kindness that Commander Falken has shown to me. "But if there is a next life, I hope that you won't pick me again." When I open my eyes again, I find out that I have travelled back in time to the day when Dad asks me to pick my husband. "Hazel, these four people are my right-hand men. Whom would you like to pick as your husband?"

The day after my twin sister died in an accident, I married her fiancé, the man who was supposed to be my brother-in-law. That very day, Mark Zeller printed thousands of copies of my sister's death report and told everyone I was the real murderer. Because of this, everyone despised me, and my parents immediately disowned me. After we got married, he was constantly in the tabloids with his flings and brought countless women home. He'd make me stand by the bedroom door, listening to them making love. Then, after he was done, he'd make me take photos of him and his lovers in bed. I silently endured it all. My only request was to have a baby with him. Mark scoffed. "Gloria Hale, how can you be so shameless? If you're so desperate to sleep with a man, just go out and find one. Instead, you're begging for it at my feet like an animal. Aren't you disgusted with yourself? "You think having my baby will make me change my ways? Let me tell you, never!" To crush my hopes, he went even further and spent a fortune to build a castle in the suburbs. Every single room in that castle housed one of his lovers. The people in our social circle said, "Mark's mistresses are way lovelier than his wife at home who only knows how to wag her tail like a dog." Three years later, Mark's mother sent me a text to remind me: "Gloria, remember our agreement. Three years are almost up. You have one more week to sort everything out."

When I arrived at my wedding in my bridal gown, I found an octagonal fighting ring set up in the center of the stage. My fiance, Derek Hale, was holding the hand of his "girl bro," Chloe Shaw. With a smile, he handed me a pair of boxing gloves and explained, "Vivian, this is a tradition from my hometown. The bride has to get into the ring and wrestle one of the groomsmen for good luck. I asked Chloe to go up. Just play along for a minute." Looking at Chloe, who was always acting frail and sickly, I did not think much of it and stepped straight into the ring. But the next second, she threw an extremely professional spinning kick and knocked me unconscious with a severe concussion on the spot. When I woke up, I was paralyzed in a hospital bed. Derek stood there holding Chloe's hand and said to me, "Our relatives and friends gave us so much wedding money. The wedding can't go on without a bride. Chloe is willing to take care of me in your place. You're so kind, Vivian. You won't mind, right?" Under the torture of humiliation and severe depression, I pushed my wheelchair off the rooftop of our wedding home. When I opened my eyes again, I was back one month before the wedding. I turned around and knocked on the door of a national-level kickboxing champion training base. "Coach, if I trained for a month, can I punch someone's head open?"

Everyone believed Ethan Cross loved Isabella Winters to his core, but nobody knew he'd already found an Isabella look-alike to keep him company through the lonely nights. Even when Isabella recovered, he continued his affair. Little did he know that Isabella's recovery was temporary—within two months, she would lose every memory she'd ever made. After that, she would forget Ethan completely, and her love for him would be erased forever.

At our wedding, my husband, Justin Garner, pushes me—three months pregnant—toward our enemies as an apology in order to save his foster sister, Clara Garner. "This is my sincerity. You can do whatever you want with her." I don't cry or make a scene. I quietly follow the enemies away. That's because in my previous life, I had traded all my wealth for freedom and returned to Justin's side. In the end, I was forced to drink drugs and lost my unborn baby, suffering for three days and nights. "Justin, those 'enemies' were people you hired to act, and Maxine didn't even lose her innocence. Why did you have to get rid of the baby?" Clara asks. Justin coldly laughs. "If you're acting, you have to make it look real." I died full of hatred. When I wake up again, I choose to let those people take me away. Three years later, when I arrive at a banquet on the arms of my new lover, Justin goes mad, grabbing me and demanding, "Maxine Preston, where is our child?"

After graduation, I post something online without really thinking about it. "Does not relying on you anymore count as growing up?" My childhood friend's comment pops up almost instantly. "That's cause for celebration." I don't understand, so I send him a question mark. After a while, his reply comes through. "Mara, do you know everyone says you're like a leech I can't shake off? "School's over. You don't need to be stuck to me every day. "Learn to stand on your own. No one in college is going to put up with a big baby." Then, without missing a beat, he sends me a download link. "Got a question? Ask AI. It's more useful than relying on me." Just like that, the boy who has looked after me for 12 years hands me off to an AI app. I sit there stunned for a long time, then quietly download it.

My husband's long-distance girlfriend is coming to check up on him again. I hear she'll be here in 20 minutes. Before my husband can say anything, I head to the master bedroom and grab my suitcase, as I always do. Thankfully, after her last visit a month ago, I never bother putting my clothes or toiletries back where they belong. So, this time, I don't have to pack in a panic. It's also thanks to her frequent visits that I'm able to go from hysterical and heartbroken in the beginning to completely numb and unfazed now. Seeing how efficiently I'm making my exit, Isaac Jones actually follows me out for once. He reaches out and ruffles my hair. "Once Candy leaves, we'll get remarried. She's always been proud and would never agree to be the other woman. So, you'll just have to put up with this a little longer. Once I'm done with her, I'll settle down. I won't keep messing around like all the other guys in my circle." As he speaks, I receive a bank transfer of one million dollars as compensation. This time, I don't send it back. I simply pull the car door shut. What Isaac doesn't know is that after eight marriages and eight divorces, I've finally broken free from him. This time, I'm not coming back.

After saving money with Justin Pierre for five years, we finally went to view a house. My best friend, Maria Houston, came along too. "The master bedroom needs a walk-in closet. Can we knock down this wall?" she asked Justin while pointing at the floor plan I had been looking at for the past six months. "I'll get a designer to take a look tomorrow. You can change it however you want." The two of them discussed everything, from the direction the apartment faced to the tiles, from the floor-to-ceiling windows to the bathtub. Meanwhile, I stood in the corner, unable to get a word in. When it was time to sign the papers, he seemed to suddenly remember I was here and said, "We'll put this place under Maria's name for now. She's here all by herself, so consider it a company benefit. The company is a little tight on cash lately. You can keep renting for another two years." However, I had also left my hometown behind to build a life with him from nothing five years ago. Back then, we had squeezed into a tiny apartment without even air-conditioning, and he had made me a promise with absolute certainty. "Once the company takes off, the first thing I'll do is give you a home." Now that the company had finally succeeded, the first home he bought was for someone else. I stared at the two signatures side by side on the contract and realized there was no place for my name. Since he had already planned a future that did not include me, I was not going to wait for him anymore. Thinking about it, I opened the page to terminate my lease and confirmed it.

Five years after their breakup, Lauren Scott signed a master-servant contract with Yale Sutton, the ex-boyfriend who had been penniless when they were together. Yale would pay off her debts, and in return, Lauren had to fulfill his every demand. "Lauren, take off one piece of clothing, and I'll knock a million off your debt." Yale spoke slowly, his voice dripping with mockery. Around the private room, the men hooted and cheered while the women laughed and made teasing remarks. Lauren gritted her teeth. "Fine. Just don't go back on your word, Mr. Sutton." Without a moment's hesitation, she unbuttoned her blouse and let it fall to the floor, baring her porcelain-white skin and most of her full, rounded breasts. The room fell silent for a moment before whistles erupted from every direction.

Josephine Ellery was dead, and everyone said Tessa Wrenford had killed her. "Tessa Wrenford, you have been found guilty of involuntary manslaughter. I sentence you to five years in prison." The judge brought down his gavel. Still dressed in her jail uniform, Tessa was led out of the courtroom by officers gripping her arms. From the gallery, Beckett Lockridge watched her with an icy stare. He was the man she'd loved for ten years. Now he was also the man who had put her behind bars. When their eyes met, she could almost hear the words he wanted to say: "Tessa, I'll make your life a living hell."

A year ago, when Bailey Knight's side girl, Lucy Day, showed up in front of me, causing a scene, he had his people beat her until she lost the baby and tossed her out. Then he groveled before me for three straight hours, begging me to forgive him. Looking at the man I'd loved for ten years, looking so pitiful and broken, I eventually caved. Later, I caught Lucy sneaking around Bailey's villa in the suburbs, so I had her thrown out again. Three days before our wedding, Bailey grabbed me by the neck and shoved me up against the railing on the second-floor balcony, yelling so hard that his voice broke. "We already took Lucy's baby once! She can't handle it happening again. She's fragile. You're a woman—how can you not understand that? "I've given you the title of Mrs. Knight. I'd give you my life. Isn't that enough? Why can't you just accept her?" The next second, his secretary ran up to say they'd found Lucy. He shoved me down the stairs. The pain when my arm snapped made me feel like my whole body was being torn apart. But he didn't even look back. Staring at the cold, heartless man in front of me, I felt something inside me go completely dead. I picked up my phone and called Arnold Greenwood. "I don't wanna marry him anymore. Come get me."