Tragic Love Romance Short Stories & Superpowers Novels

After three miscarriages for Xavier Lowe, I see it—my mother-in-law has three years left, my father-in-law nine years, and my sister-in-law two years. I say nothing. After the third miscarriage, my mother-in-law blames me, calling me a curse who "kills" children. My sister-in-law sneers, saying she almost died in a car crash the year I married Xavier—as if my bad luck dragged her down. My mother-in-law snaps, "She can't even keep a child. It must be because she's cursed!" Xavier just stands there, silent. He doesn't say a single word for me. I know that, deep down, he believes that I bring bad luck. Maybe it's also because he already has someone else—his secretary, Yvette Snyder. His mother has always liked her better, and he clung to her the night I lost my third child. I don't explain because I know the truth will only destroy them faster. On my 28th birthday, I catch a glimpse of my own countdown in the mirror. On that day, I take a leave of absence. I go to the funeral home and pick out an urn—pure white, just like the wedding dress I once wore. Wearing a beautiful floral dress, I text Xavier, asking him to meet me at the lake where we first met ten years ago. I wait from daylight until nightfall as my countdown ticks to zero. I die, and he never shows up.

Everyone knows that campus heartthrob Kelvin Underwood never dates anyone for more than three months. Yet, he's been with me for nearly nine months. People call me the love of his life. That is until a viral thread hits the campus forums. It claims that his first love, Tamara Wesson, is back, and he'll be dumping me any day now. I find it hilarious and want to show it to him. But instead of laughing, he pretends to be asleep, rolling over and subtly putting as much distance between us as possible. I assume he's sulking because I added another guy on social media. Like always, I throw myself onto him and let my hands roam all over his body, teasing him playfully. As I watch him close his eyes tightly and purse his lips in pure restraint, my pulse starts to race. I lean in to kiss him. Suddenly, floating comments flash into view. [The male lead is practically dying of disgust, and this second female lead is still touching him so shamelessly? No wonder she ends up getting bullied to death.] [Stephanie doesn't actually think Kelvin sees her as his true love, does she? The only reason he broke his three-month rule and stayed with her for nine months is that he found out Tamara's lucky number is nine, and so he's just doing it to get under her skin.] [Exactly! The moment our precious Tamara heard that he's been dating someone for that long, she immediately panicked and came back to win him over. Our sweet endgame couple is about to make their grand entrance!]

When I was ten years old, I suddenly gained the ability to see red threads connecting people’s heads. Only those who had actually slept together would be bound by this unavoidable red line. Over the years, two extra red threads popped up over my father’s head, driving my mother to threaten to file for divorce again and again. Because of this, loyalty became the single most important thing I looked for in a partner. In the end, I chose Jasper—a modest, reserved man whose head was completely clean. On the night before our wedding, my bridesmaids hosted a bachelorette party. We played a game where whoever lost had to hand over their phone for the rest of us to snoop through. When it was my maid of honor Jean’s turn, she clutched her phone tightly, her face flushing red as she bashfully giggled. “Don’t look at mine! He wore me out so late last night. Those photos are definitely not fit for public viewing.” Everyone teased her for keeping her relationship so secretive, since no one had ever met her boyfriend. I was just about to step in and smooth things over when I suddenly saw a bright red thread stretch straight out from the top of her head. It wove right through the crowd and anchored itself directly onto my fiancé, Jasper. Yet, when he dropped me off at home last night, his head had been entirely clean. In fact, just half an hour ago, he had sent me a text. [Aria, I’ve saved myself for you for twenty-five years. On our wedding night tomorrow, I can finally have you. I love you!] I looked over at Jasper standing outside the door, staring at me with deep affection, and then back at Jean, whose face was glowing with passion. I raised my glass and clinked it gently against hers. “Jean, is your boyfriend’s last name Cook?”