Contos de Romance com Unattainable Love e Romances com Cheating

My best friend and I grow up together, and we each have our childhood friends. When we're old enough, we marry our childhood friends. One is a doctor, and one is a firefighter. We even fall pregnant one after the other. During our pregnancies, we go out for a stroll. Suddenly, I'm rammed over, and I fall into the river. My best friend miscarries after trying to save me, and my child dies in my belly, too. I call my husband. However, he roars, "Cass is in danger; I have to save her first! Stop bothering me!" My best friend is also reprimanded by her husband. After giving birth to the dead fetuses, we both decide to get divorced. However, the two men weep and beg us not to leave.

The day our daughter had a high fever, Matt was at a parent-teacher meeting for his first love’s son. I called him, only for her to pick up. Through sobs, she apologized, but Matt quickly grabbed the phone, his tone impatient. "She’s a single mom with a kid. What’s wrong with me looking out for them?" So, I turned to my daughter, who was quietly receiving her IV, and asked softly, "How about it, sweetheart? From now on, it’s just you and me."

After eight years and countless pregnancy tests, I was finally pregnant. Zachary loved me to his core. With or without a child, his devotion never wavered—if anything, it only grew stronger. He was over the moon, practically bouncing off the walls, promising me the world and everything in it. His parents were relieved that the Williams family legacy would finally have an heir. They completely changed their tune, suddenly treating me like I was made of gold. But I had no plans to keep this baby.

In my ninth year of being with Tyler Freeman, he flaunts his relationships with other women while I'm only allowed to come and go from his bedroom. He doesn't acknowledge me as his girlfriend, yet he allows his friends to address me as such. I have a name but not an identity. His friends are bored during a private party and want me to perform a strip dance on stage to liven things up. I expect Tyler to at least turn them down on my behalf, but all he does is sip his wine and say, "Go on. You're the owner of this place, aren't you? Aren't clubs supposed to satisfy their patrons' needs? Don't let my friends down!" I look at him emotionlessly. I don't cry or throw a fuss. Instead, I splash a glass of liquor in his face. The following day, I trash the club. Three months later, Tyler finally thinks of calling me. "Where are you? Aren't you gonna get the hell back here? Do you really expect me to beg you to come back? Do you think you're worthy of that?" I pull my newlywed husband to the camera. "Sorry, Mr. Freeman. I'm getting married. You don't need to come, but do get me a wedding gift." Unexpectedly, he threatens to show my husband intimate videos of me when he sees me in a wedding gown.

The yacht I'm steering crashes into a huge wave, scaring my husband's junior, who has a heart condition. So, my husband orders someone to tie me up and dangle me in the ocean by a rope. He even tells the captain to head straight into the waves. "You know Wren has a heart condition, yet you still scared her! How can you be so evil?" I beg him to let me go and tell him that I was following a charted path; I didn't mean for anything to happen. However, he just mocks me. "You've been a yacht driver for so long. Haven't you experienced anything like this before? I'll make you go through what Wren did! Let's see whether you'll pull this again!" After a day and night of this torment, he relents and decides to pull me back up. It's too bad he doesn't know that the waves have already torn me to shreds.

On my birthday, the dining table was loaded with all my favorites. My mom had been cooking and baking the entire afternoon, insisting everything be perfect for when Mike got home from work so we could celebrate together. But then, he called and said his first love had been drugged at a bar, and he had to go help her. I stopped him and begged him not to go. Mike snapped at me. "Jesus, Em, don’t pull this jealous wife crap. She’s alone, defenseless, and unconscious—I can't let some random dude take advantage of her!" My mother heard those words and was so enraged that she had a heart attack. She died on the spot. Just like that, my mom died on my birthday. I called Mike, asking him to attend my mom's funeral. But before he could reply, I saw Cathy Miller's latest Instagram post, captioned: [Mikey… after all these years, it was always you.] Mike had liked it. My thumb moved before my brain caught up, typing out the only words that mattered: [A homewrecker and a lying bastard. Hope you rot together.]

Three years after Vivian and I married into the Domingo family, our husbands' childhood crush Niama Guido came back to the town. Vivian and I had a whole escape plan. But the night before we bailed, Vivian threw herself off a high-rise. I called her husband, Pedro Domingo. He laughed, his tone nasty and cold. "Reena, my brother asked, since she jumped today, are you going to drown yourself tomorrow?"

Everyone says Brandon Foster loves me to the bone. I'm the only one who knows he has a secret lover—a poor student I once sponsored. On our wedding night, he brushed me off with the excuse of needing to entertain the guests. In truth, he was busy fooling around with her. Well, I don't care about that anymore. I have cancer, and my time is running out. I don't expect him and his lover to both lose their minds when they find out, though.

On the day before my wedding with Anthony Jackson, I was involved in a car accident. When I was semiconscious, I heard his conversation with the doctor. "Anthony, are you sure you want to give Indya Nina's corneas? Once it's done, then Nina will be blinded for the rest of her life." "I'm sure. Nina will still have me for the rest of her life, but Indya can't lose her eyesight. Make sure you don't leave any loose ends." As soon as he finished speaking, I felt a hand stroking my face. "Don't worry, Nina. I'll be your eyes for the rest of your life." It seemed that the person that I had deeply loved had always been loving another woman. If that was what they wanted, then I would fulfill their wish.

My childhood sweetheart has aplastic anemia and desperately needs a bone marrow transplant. His brother agrees to help, but there's a catch. "I can save him, but you need to marry me." My lover ultimately dies because of medical negligence. I'm heartbroken but still marry Martin Steinfeld per my promise. During the wedding, he gets on one knee before me. His gaze is loving as he says, "I'll treat you well for life, Audrey Lynch. I'll be a thousand times better than Henry; I won't let you shed another tear." I look at his face, which is so much like Henry Steinfeld's. I believe him. Three years after our marriage, I'm five months along when I stumble upon Martin with his mistress. He wraps an arm around her and sighs. "She still can't forget about that dead guy despite us being married for so long. She's not like you, who only has eyes for me. "If not for her insisting on marrying Henry and ruining my future, I wouldn't have had to take my own brother down so much earlier than planned." My blood runs cold, and I tremble all over. Hatred consumes me, and I only have one thought—I have to destroy Martin!

I was about to marry my boyfriend of seven years, Edward Carter. However, he was secretly getting a marriage certificate with his first love. In a moment of panic and disbelief, I confronted him: "Edward, what do I even mean to you?" Edward grabbed me as I tried to walk away, his eyes filled with helplessness: "Jennifer, you know Chloe is my first love. She only has two months left to live. I just don't want her to leave with regrets." "The woman who will be my last wife, though, is you." It was laughable. He felt sorry for his first love—did that mean I had to suffer? I saw the mocking look Chloe Smith shot my way. Then, to make things worse, Edward actually suggested I let Chloe take my place in the wedding. That was the last straw. After seven years of love, I did not want it anymore. I called my brother, "Hey, the wedding is in ten days. Can you find me a new groom?"

I double over in pain after assisting Adrian Randall with a late-night operation. He immediately carries me to a ward to check on me. However, before he can do that, he receives a call from a patient and hurries off. That night, I miscarry. When I come out of the operating theater, I see his childhood friend's social media update. She's shared a photo of her baby bump. "He hurried to come to my side just because I was lost. You have to treat Adrian well in the future, my darling!" I rub my belly, which throbs with a dull ache. I don't cry and demand an explanation from Adrian as I would have in the past. Instead, I like the post and apply for a position on the Borderless Medical Assistance Program. The day I leave, the high and mighty Dr. Randall looks at me with red-rimmed eyes. He asks, "How can you bear to leave me behind?"

Jerome Morrison is busy dealing with his ex-girlfriend's lawsuit regarding the inheritance when I die in a car crash. The police officer calls him to identify my corpse, but he merely snaps impatiently, "Has she moved on to using suicide to threaten me? Too bad it won't work." Later, he finds out his ex-girlfriend caused a car crash, he chooses to destroy the evidence. He doesn't notice that I'm the one who died in that car crash.

His precious childhood sweetheart got drunk one night and ended up in a stranger’s bed. When she showed up again, she was pregnant—just like me. On the day I gave birth, Harold handed me the divorce papers. "Rachel’s about to return to acting," he said coldly. "She and the baby need a proper title. If a scandal breaks out, it’ll destroy her." Dragging my frail body, I calmly signed the papers. In my previous life, I refused to step aside. I went live, holding my daughter, and exposed the award-winning actress Rachel Underwood for knowingly becoming the other woman. The internet turned on her. She lost every endorsement and was driven to the edge by massive fines—eventually jumping off a building. Harold quietly took care of her funeral... and then stood by as her fans harassed me in the streets, even tried to burn my child and me alive. It was not until I saw him lock the door behind us that I realized—he had wanted us dead all along. Then I woke up. And it was the day he gave me the divorce agreement... again.

I was married to Gideon Strathmore for eight years, but he was unfaithful, bringing home different women. The 100th, Vesper Quinn, smirked at me and turned to him, saying, "This is your useless wife, huh?" Gideon leaned back in his chair and lazily nodded. Emboldened by his attitude, she strutted over and patted my cheek. "Listen closely to what a real woman sounds like." That night, moans filled the living room. I couldn't escape them. The next morning, Gideon ordered me to breakfast as usual. I refused, unwilling to be his puppet any longer. He forgot our marriage was based on a contract, and it was due in three days.

Scott Chapman's company went bankrupt because his childhood sweetheart, Eula Saunder, had stolen confidential information from it. Despite having millions in assets, I married him without hesitation. After we got married, I not only devoted myself to caring for him after he was severely injured in a car accident, but also struggled alone to hold up the crumbling Chapman family. When he recovered, he swore that I was the one person he would never let down. But when Eula returned to the country, he had me hung to the ceiling for three days just because she asked for it. I was pregnant, thirsty, and starving. I begged him to save our baby, but he turned a deaf ear. Instead, he hugged and kissed Eula right in front of me. "If you hadn't taken advantage of me when I was at my lowest and forced me to marry you, I would've married Eula by now. "You framed her back then and had her sent abroad. Now that she's back, you need to pay for what you did!" Heartbroken, I went to see my brother, Ken. I knelt before him and said, "I lost. I misjudged him. Ken, I want to leave this place."

At nine months pregnant, I suffered an unexpected miscarriage. My husband, Graham Pearson, fought back his own grief as he comforted me. He would whisper to me every day, trying to soothe my shattered heart, "Whitney, we will have children again someday. Our little angel was here for a while, and next time, we'll make sure we hold onto them..." Under Graham's careful care, I slowly began to pull myself out of the numb fog I'd been trapped in. But then, a month later, I overheard him talking to one of his friends. "If Whitney finds out the baby didn't actually die and that you've let Cassidy raise him, don't you think she'll flip out? You've worked so hard to get where you are; you can't let this mess it all up." Graham casually flicked his cigarette, his voice almost detached as he waved a hand dismissively. "Cassidy can't have kids, but she loves children. If this baby brings her joy, it's a blessing for the child, too. "I might never get the chance to be with Cassidy, but letting her raise my son, in some way, feels like a kind of fulfillment..." The truth hit me like a frozen wave, paralyzing me in place. It turned out this whole ordeal had been part of Graham's plan from the start.

I had a miscarriage and was confined in the ICU. Meanwhile, my husband was off traveling the world with his first love. It wasn't until he decided to divorce me that he finally remembered I existed. He called my mother, demanding to know how long I planned to act out. She was disheartened, looking at me, who was barely clinging to life. "Shannon will never cause you trouble again! Happy now?" she snapped.

For four years, I was in a secret relationship with Luke Collins. Even his closest friends had no clue. But everything changed when his first love returned. His friends started betting on when he'd break up with his girlfriend. "Right now." I blurted out. I knew because I was about to walk into an arranged marriage with someone else.

It was the day of our marriage. We were supposed to meet up at the City Hall, but my fiancee stood me up. I waited for her the whole day, and the only answer I got was a picture from her assistant. My girlfriend sat astride on his lap, and her arms were wrapped around his neck while they were locked in a deep kiss. "Sorry, Mr. Terraton. Sophie insisted on comforting me. You don't mind, do you?" I demanded answers from my girlfriend, but that only made her impatient. "He donated his blood to me. Yeah, I was with him, but so what? Man up, will you?" That killed any love I had for her, and I called my soon-to-be ex-girlfriend's sister. "Hey, Sylvie. Yeah, about your proposal. So will you marry me?"