Historias cortas y novelas de Tragic Love Romance

Everyone said my wife, Zoey Harper, was an amazing wife and mom who'd do anything for me and our son, Leo. Leo's doctor warned us three times that he might not make it. Then he died. Zoey claimed she was overseas for work. She wasn't. She'd invited Peter Cole—the first love she'd never gotten over—and his family to our apartment for dinner. I came home carrying Leo's urn, ready to confront her. Instead, she tossed my luggage into the hall. "We have guests, and we're out of rooms. Go stay somewhere else for a few days."

When Zack Fleming gets a tiny scrape on his arm, my wife, Melanie Perry, who loves money more than anything else in the world, rejects a business partnership that's worth hundreds of millions of dollars. She then forces my sister, Cindy Sherwood, to donate a large amount of blood to Zack, despite knowing that Cindy has a heart condition. I immediately call Melanie to demand answers. "We only took a few drops of blood from her," she says nonchalantly. "Why are you making a fuss? Besides, Cindy's tough. She'll be fine. But Zack's different. He's the company's lucky star, so nothing must happen to him. "Business has been improving by the day ever since he joined the company. Everything that I do is for your and the company's sake. Not thanking me is one thing, but how dare you lose your temper at me?" Melanie hangs up after she's done speaking and blocks my number. It seems that my unconditional support for the last five years has given Melanie the wrong idea. She wrongly assumes that the company is improving because of her and Zack's efforts and has forgotten that she's nothing but a pawn that her family used to establish a marriage alliance with me. Ten minutes later, Melanie calls me again even though she's the one who blocked me in the first place. "Have you lost your mind?" she snaps. "Why did you take Zack away and hook him up to so many tubes?" I scoff and answer, "You're the one who said that he was a lucky star. Why are you panicking when I just want to take a few drops of blood from him?"

My fiancee, Natalie Crenshaw, has always had a phenomenal memory. She never forgets a thing. Yet, when I propose, she forgets to hold out her hand for the diamond ring. When we go to get our marriage certificate, she forgets to bring her identification papers. And on our wedding day, she forgets she's supposed to be there altogether. Why? Because she's busy saving her childhood sweetheart's wedding next door—by stepping in as the bride herself. Seeing all this, Mom suffers a heart attack. I beg Natalie to go to the hospital and explain things, but she simply links her arm with Erik Cuoco's mother, sweetly calling her "Mom", and claims that I'm nothing more than a pursuer who doesn't know when to give up. Later, I handle Mom's funeral alone. And right after, I apply for an overseas assignment. When I return home to pack my things, Natalie just happens to come back from her honeymoon with Erik. She looks perfectly content, and a smile plays in her eyes. "Robert, how's your mom doing? Let's pick a good date to reschedule the wedding. It'll make her happy." What she doesn't know is that the moment my Mom died, any chance of a future between us died with her.

Only because our son begged to go to the amusement park, my wife, Nyla Frost, a wealthy heiress, ended up in a car accident on the way there, leaving her permanently paralyzed from the waist down. To punish us, she slashed our daily allowance to a mere ten cents. For the past three years, my son and I had no choice but to survive by scavenging through trash every day, even fighting the dogs for scraps. One day, my son was so hungry that he lost all reason. He ate a few crumbs of a cookie that our family doctor had accidentally dropped on the floor. My wife flew into a rage, accusing him of having filthy, thieving hands. As punishment, she made him stand outside in the pouring rain for the whole day before he was allowed back inside. Furious, I marched over to her room to demand an explanation, only to freeze in my tracks. Despite supposedly being unable to walk, she was already standing. She was holding the family doctor's hand, dancing a romantic waltz with him. Her best friend gazed out the window, her heart aching with pity. "Nyla, back then, your kid threw a tantrum because he wanted to go to the amusement park. That's why you missed your first love's last chance to see you. But you've already punished your husband and son for three years. You even found a stand-in to stay by your side and pretend to be your doctor. Don't you think it's time to let it go?" Nyla scoffed, her voice cold. "Failure to teach the son falls on the father. They ruined my seven-year pact with my first love. This punishment is hardly enough. Don't bring it up again. There are still two years left. Once their punishment is over, I'll make it up to both of them." What she didn't know was that I'd been saving every decent meal for our son while going hungry myself. By then, I had terminal stomach cancer. I wouldn't live long enough to see those two years pass. I’d never let my son stay by her side and suffer any longer.

On New Year's Eve, Gwen Hurst and I attended a reunion with our old classmates. After several rounds of drinks, someone suggested a game of Truth or Dare. Gwen was the first to lose and drew Truth. "What was your biggest regret when it came to love?" She answered without hesitation, but her gaze kept drifting toward her first love, Nikolas Stratton, who was sitting nearby. "My greatest regret was not ending up with the person I loved most. Instead, I married my backup and settled for a life of compromise." The room erupted in shock. Everyone thought I would storm out in anger, but I only smiled and gestured for the game to continue. When it was my turn, the question became, "Have you ever kept anything from your partner?" "I have." "What was it?" "I've been raising a seven-year-old son outside our marriage."

The 19th time I demand a divorce from my husband, Jason Simmons, my best friend, Diana Nicholson, doesn't try to change my mind as usual. In the past, she always tried to stop me. She even personally showed up at Jason's company to ask him to reconcile with me. This time, she quietly contacts a lawyer for me, prepares a divorce agreement, and helps me with the divorce proceedings. Unable to help myself, I question her about her unusual behavior just as I'm about to sign the divorce agreement. It seems that I've touched a sore spot because she suddenly loses her temper and snaps, "Layla suffered a miscarriage because of you this time. How much longer are you going to cause a fuss?" Layla McKinley is Jason's mistress. Diana sighs as she takes in my bewildered expression, explaining, "The truth is, Layla was my junior in university. I'm the one who introduced her to Jason. I did my best to compensate you for so many years out of guilt, but I've grown exhausted. "For my sake, please stop causing a fuss," she says, placing a hand on my shoulder. "I'll make it up to you for everything they've done." My body feels unbearably cold. I feel as if I've been shoved into a pool of freezing water. It turns out that both my friendship and my marriage have been nothing but a farce the entire time. I quietly flip open the divorce agreement when Diana isn't paying attention and pen my signature on the dotted line.

When my boyfriend, Caleb Steele, loses his family and everything he has, I walk away. After he makes a comeback, I come to see him every year. The first year, I hold my daughter, Claire Sutton, in my arms. Caleb throws fifty thousand dollars at me and tells me to stay away. The second year, I bring my late-stage cancer diagnosis, and he doesn't even look at it. Instead, he gives me a hundred thousand dollars and tells me to disappear for good. In the third and fourth years, I vanish just as he wants. Then, in the fifth year, he gets a call from Claire. "Mommy, when are you bringing me dinner? I'm hungry."

After Poppy Steele, the heiress of the Steele family, loses her sight, my brother, Trevor Nott, breaks off their engagement and moves abroad. Left with no other choice, my parents ask me—their adopted son—to replace Trevor as a form of compensation. I take meticulous care of her for five years until she regains her sight. Just as she is about to marry me, Trevor appears at the wedding holding a bouquet of flowers, gets down on one knee, and confesses his love to her. The usually aloof Poppy bursts into tears. She throws away her wedding ring and runs to him, asking why he has only shown up now. I instantly become the laughingstock. I don't make a fuss, though. I change out of my suit and let them have the wedding. Poppy praises me for being sensible, claiming her recent actions are just for show. She promises that I will always be her fiance. I smile without saying anything and quietly book a flight abroad. She doesn't know yet that my care for her is nothing more than a deal. Now that her old flame is back, it's time for me to live my own life.

To help her childhood sweetheart, David Middleton, take my place studying abroad, my wife, Sharon Griffin, destroys my records and deliberately fills in false information, ensuring that I'm permanently denied a visa. She even severely injured my hands before sending me to the Behavioral Reform Center. My mother-in-law, Paula Brown, who has always treated me with affection, takes Sharon's side. "Kyle is so ungrateful. We gave him everything, and he still wanted to get a PhD abroad to find his biological parents. Who's going to take care of me if he's gone?" Sharon snorts. "He's just vain. When he found out I'd turned down Westbridge's offer of admission, he gave me the silent treatment and threatened to divorce me. If I let him go abroad, he'd think he could do whatever he wanted. "As my husband, he has everything he could ever need, yet he still wants to take David's opportunities away from him. Maybe the Behavioral Reform Center can teach him to appreciate what he has." A semester later, Sharon goes to the airport to pick up David, who's returning from his studies abroad. For the first time in a long while, she asks her assistant, Adam Norris, "It's been so long. Has Kyle learned his lesson? Tell him he can come home for the winter break." She doesn't know that I've already died on the very first day she sent me to that reform center.

I was the simple-minded fool that General Adelaide Knight had pulled from a pile of corpses on the battlefield. The poison had been too severe. I survived, but my mind never fully recovered. When people hit me or cursed at me, all I ever did was stare blankly and smile. Adelaide took pity on me. She brought me into her home and refused to let anyone mistreat me. She once said, "Reed may be a fool, but he's my whole life." And like a fool, I believed her. For five years, I followed her everywhere like a shadow. Then Fabian Ortega returned to the capital. He looked so much like me that we could almost have been brothers. He'd been poisoned, and none of the doctors knew how to save him. His only chance was to fight poison with poison—using blood drawn from the heart of someone whose body was already saturated with an even deadlier toxin. So Adelaide placed a dagger and an empty bowl in front of me. Her voice had never been gentler. "Be good, Reed. Your body's already full of poison. It's just a small cut over your heart. It won't hurt. Let me take some blood for him. I'll buy you your favorite candy tomorrow, okay?" I stared at the cold gleam of the blade and slowly blinked. The truth was, when the knife pierced my chest, the blood came so fast that I felt so cold. Still, I endured it and forced the same vacant smile onto my face. "Okay." I watched Adelaide pick up the bowl of warm blood and hurry toward Fabian's room. She was in such a rush that she didn't even spare a glance at the bloodstained dagger she'd left lying on the floor. I tossed the cheap candy she'd bought me into the fire and clumsily began packing my things. Since she no longer wanted Reed's life, this poisoned fool had no reason to stay.

On our anniversary, I stood in the doorway holding the diamond ring I'd just bought, waiting for Crystal Linley to finish her video call. She casually took the ring box, set it aside without a glance, and checked her watch. "The client wants last-minute changes to the proposal. Go ahead and eat without me." I sat down at the table alone. The food tasted like nothing. At midnight, her childhood friend posted a photo of the two of them on Instagram, out on a yacht. Crystal was wearing the dress I'd given her, leaning against his shoulder with a glass of champagne in her hand. The caption read: [She said if I ever come back to her, she'll drop everything and run to me.] I calmly liked the Instagram post. A second later, my phone lit up. "Don't get the wrong idea!" Crystal's voice was frantic. "I swear, next anniversary..." I let out a long breath. "There won't be a next anniversary."

My wife of three secretly married years, Izzy Presley, threw a welcome-home dinner for her childhood friend who'd just returned to the country. A sharp-eyed coworker noticed the wedding ring on her finger and teased her about it. "Izzy, does this mean there's a wedding on the way?" Izzy didn't deny it. Instead, she traded a smile with Sebastian Wood, the friend she'd grown up with, and made her answer loud enough for the whole room to hear. "Yes. Sebastian and I are getting engaged." She handed out cash gift cards to everyone in the room as she said it, me included. Someone who'd had a little too much to drink called out. "I've watched Stevie and Izzy come and go together for three years straight. Honestly, I thought you two were the real couple." I kept my head down and tightened my grip around the stem of my glass. On my phone, the chat thread with Izzy was still open. That 200-dollar cash gift, the exact same amount she'd given every other guest in the room, burned behind my eyes. Then her voice drifted over, light as air. "My assistant Stevie is good at his job. Work is work, and feelings are feelings. Let's not confuse the two." The teasing only got louder after that. Through the whole party, everyone celebrated for her. No one knew that Izzy and I had already been married for three years. This marriage was like a deal struck in the dark, the kind that could never see daylight. Because I loved her, I'd gritted my teeth and held on for three years. But now, I was ready to let go.

My brother by blood, Eric Wilson, was having an affair. I found out about it. However, I chose not to tell his wife. Instead, I blackmailed him into buying me three luxury handbags.

Every time I slept with Jennifer Brooks, I noticed that she had changed the sheets. After we finished one night, I finally asked her about it. Jennifer traced her fingers across my chest and gave me a gentle smile. "Obviously, it's because your good friend sweats so much. Every time, right before you and I do it, he gets jealous and insists on going first. I never knew a man could sweat that much during sex until I met him." My mind went blank. I stared at her in disbelief. "What did you just say?" She met my gaze, her lips curved into something that wasn't quite a smile. "Connor, your father was tortured to death in bed by the women your mother hired, not by me. So every time you lie there like a dead fish, you completely kill the mood. "That's your trauma. I shouldn't have to pay for it. Understand? You should be thanking Hunter. He's the one holding this relationship together." The words had barely left her mouth when the door flew open. Hunter Clayton stormed in, his eyes red, and slapped Jennifer across the face. "You've gone too far! Apologize to Connor!" I looked at the two of them, but all I could taste was bitterness. So this whole time, Jennifer had seen me as nothing more than a burden who ruined the mood. This bed had never been big enough for three people. I wouldn't force myself into it again.

To pay for my grandmother's medical treatment, I became the boyfriend of Camille Harrington, the heiress of a wealthy family. On our 10th anniversary, she sent me the address of a wedding venue and told me she was going to marry me. Overjoyed, I dressed for the occasion and went to the venue, convinced she'd finally fallen in love with me. But instead of coming to me, Camille rushed straight into the arms of her first love. Christopher Vaughn covered his forehead and let out a bitter laugh. "Camille, I lost. Just as you said, the servant you bought with money really is obedient." The guests had spent the entire day putting on a show at my expense. Now, they burst into laughter and mocked me for being such a fool. Camille, however, was delighted that I'd helped her win the game. She immediately promised to add another 200,000 dollars to my grandmother's medical expenses. What she didn't know was that my grandmother had already died, and with her death, my relationship with Camille had come to an end. But when I turned around and walked away, giving Camille and Christopher exactly what they wanted, Camille lost her mind and began searching for me all over the world.

The day I got laid off, I called my boyfriend, but he never picked up. I rode home on my electric scooter in the pouring rain, soaked to the skin, clutching a cardboard box as I awkwardly pushed open the front door. The house was packed. My family, relatives, and friends were all there. In the middle of the room, my boyfriend and my best friend stood before my parents, accepting their congratulations as the newlyweds. The moment I appeared, the lively room fell deathly silent. The cardboard box slipped from my hands, scattering its contents across the floor. Zane Ward walked toward me, looking at me calmly. "What are you doing here?" I stared at him, my voice trembling as I demanded an answer. "What… What are you doing?" His expression was complicated, but he finally let out a long sigh. "Sophia and I got married last year. We're just having the wedding ceremony today." A roar filled my ears. Without thinking, I raised my hand and slapped him hard across the face. "Get out! Both of you, get out! This is my house! All of you, get out!" The next second, one of my friends shoved me outside. They shielded the newlyweds behind them. "How could you hit him?" "Exactly. We only kept it from you because we were afraid you'd be hurt. Otherwise, Zane would have broken up with you a long time ago!" Amid the chaotic shouting, my parents walked over to me, disappointment written across their faces. "This house doesn't belong to you. We gave it to Sophia as their new home." "Today is their wedding day. Don't make a scene. Just go back to your room." The blood in my veins seemed to freeze. Five years together. Three years living under the same roof. My boyfriend had become my best friend's legal husband. My parents had secretly given them a home to start their married life. Every relative and friend had gathered to wish them well. And there I stood, like some pathetic fool, making a spectacle of myself.

Once again, I had an episode. My best friend rushed forward and snatched the knife from my hand, her face twisted with resentment. "How long are you going to keep this up? You think you can act however you want just because you have depression? No wonder Nolan left you!" I froze. My best friend, however, looked relieved. "I should have told you sooner. Nolan specifically asked me to stay with you today because he was afraid you'd try to ruin his wedding to Evelyn." She blocked the doorway, looking self-righteous. "Let me make this clear. Even if you cut your wrists and died right here today, you still can't keep trying to come between them. So what if you once helped Nolan? After all these years of him taking care of you, he's more than paid you back!" Not long after, my mother hurried over to take my best friend's place. She was supposed to be one of the bridesmaids. My mother pleaded with me. "Our family wouldn't have made it this far without Nolan. You have to be a good person and let him go find his happiness." A crushing sense of absurdity washed over me. Nolan Drake's message was still sitting quietly on my phone. "Honey, I'm going overseas to see a doctor who's important to you. Don't worry. I'll make sure you get better. Once you're well, we'll get married." I collapsed to the floor, tears falling silently onto the screen. They had no idea I had cancer. I had already decided I did not want to become a burden to Nolan. I gave my mother a bitter smile. "Fine. I promise. I'll give Nolan what he wants."

My legs buckled when I was told that they'd fished the body of Christopher Quinton from the sea. My knees smashed into the gravel beneath my feet because I knew he'd have survived if he hadn't tried to save me. Three days later, I dealt with all the enemies and became the demoness of Porton's elite circle. Five years later, the pier business expanded considerably. However, I kept the scar on my arm as a memento to remind me of him. It had been five years since he died, exactly five years. I bought a bottle of herbicide in an attempt to take my own life. Then, I saw the supposedly dead Christopher proposing to my best friend, Zoe Shaw. I saw all my underlings congratulate them. I froze for a moment before charging ahead, demanding an explanation. Gus, the guy who'd worked for me for 12 years, stopped me. "Everyone knows, boss. Zoe's pregnant! Calm down!" Henry, the butler my father had left me, stopped me. "My lady, it's been a thorny path for Mr. Quinton and Zoe, and now they're getting married. You're already the head of the pier. Give them your blessing. Everyone knows how possessive you are. "They had to fake their death to keep away from you. It hasn't been easy for them either." I stared at the men who stopped me, my nails digging into my palm. It was then that I realized that my life was an utter joke. I flushed the herbicide down the toilet and sneered at Gus and Henry. "Then, you'll be holding their funerals."

My girlfriend and best friend adopted a stray. She kept going to his place ever since. Whenever she did, she would have that look of impatience on her face as she said, "I would go over to his place, but that cat only lets me hold it." Blake Chaucer sneered. "You think I want you at my place? It's the cat that likes you, not me." They would squabble whenever they met up. Still, it didn't take long for her to memorize his door's passcode. She even remembered how he needed something warm before bed because he had a weak stomach. When she didn't show up on my birthday, she said, "The cat's having a fever, and he can't handle it himself." I held my resentment over our situation for a long, long time, and it erupted on the day my parents came over. They wanted to see her. Alas, they waited for three hours, but she didn't come back. So, I went to Blake's place without telling them, and what greeted me was a particularly clean place that had no signs of a pet living there. There was no cattery, no litter box, and not even a strand of fur lying around. However, there was a pair of women's slippers sitting on the porch and a bottle of perfume Queenie Hilton regularly used in the bathroom. A sticky note was plastered on the fridge's door. It was her handwriting. It read, "I'm making dinner, you dummy."

The day the university released the family placement positions for doctoral graduates, I went straight to the Human Resources Office to register. But the staff member barely looked up before rolling their eyes. "Mr. Slater, everyone at this university knows you cheated on your wife and are about to leave the marriage with nothing. How do you still have the nerve to ask about the placement position?" I thought there had been some kind of misunderstanding. I rushed home, hoping to explain everything to my wife, only for my mother to slap me across the face. "I don't have a shameless son like you. Get out of Natalie's house!" I was driven back to the rural school where I had spent the past three years teaching. But by then, the entire village was filled with rumors about me, and even the children avoided me. The day I received the divorce papers my wife had mailed me, I returned home. But before I could enter, I overheard her talking to her friends through the half-open door. "Natalie, you spread those rumors and forced your husband into divorcing you just so Mr. Talbot could get that placement position. Aren't you worried your husband won't remarry you afterward?" She let out a dismissive laugh. "Not even my mother-in-law has a problem with it. No one but me would marry a penniless man like him! Ian needs this job more than he does. In a week, once everything's settled, I'll forgive him for 'cheating' and take him back. He'll be so grateful that he'll probably thank me for the rest of his life." My grip tightened around the divorce agreement until my knuckles turned white. If that was how it was going to be, then I would give her the divorce. But once I signed those papers, she could forget about ever remarrying me.