เรื่องสั้นแนว Tragic Love Romance และนิยาย Unattainable Love

After recovering from breast cancer, my fiancé started making excuses to stay out all night. On my birthday, I finally tracked him down on a yacht where he was joking with his friends. "I figured once she died, the engagement would be off the table. Who knew she'd be so hard to die.” "But I've got a brilliant plan—I'll fake my death at the wedding. We can livestream it and watch how this woman who worships me to the core breaks down in tears." I couldn't help but smile to myself. If Travis Luther could play dead, so could I. In the end, he was the one who broke down sobbing, begging me not to walk away.

On our wedding day, Ethan got a call and bolted from the ceremony. Grandma was so furious she started coughing up blood, and everyone just watched. Not one person stepped in to help. I raced her to the hospital, but it was too late. She was gone before they even got her inside. Then, as I sat alone in the morgue, my phone lit up. It was Ethan. "Grace, get to the hospital. Bella's hurt and needs your blood!" "Ethan Carter, it's over between us." I ended the call, leaving the last pieces of my heart—and him—behind. Months later, he was on his knees in the pouring rain, begging for forgiveness, saying he'd do anything, give anything, if I'd only look back.

I once thought that my and Sebastian Ford's love would last a lifetime. Yet, the man who claims to love me does everything possible to hurt me. He takes wedding photos with another woman and goes on vacation with her. They even sleep in the same room. When making love to me, he speaks to a friend in a foreign language. He tells the friend he will marry another woman but keep me bound to him with a fake marriage certificate.

After a year of hustling overseas, I came home to find that my DINK husband had a child with his first love. We had a massive blowout, but he remained unnervingly calm. "Lucy's husband can't have children. She stood by me through those dark years—now I owe her this," he said, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. Even my in-laws tried to persuade me. "Raising a child is security for old age. Just think of it as your own—won't it be good to have someone to care for you later on?" I looked at Thomas Wilson, a wave of pain crashing through me. "I can raise the child," I said finally, "but you have to cut off all contact with Lucy. That's my bottom line." Thomas didn't hesitate. He threw a divorce agreement in front of me, his tone turning cold. "Lucy and I are the child's biological parents. I won't separate from my own blood." "Fine," I said. "Then let's get divorced."

At the wedding, just as I was about to exchange rings with my fiancée, her conniving boyfriend intentionally pushed his son toward her. Right in front of everyone, the boy looked up with teary eyes and asked, "Mom, why are you marrying this man? Don't you want me and Dad anymore?" My fiancée, who never lied, smiled, took the child's hand, and said, "I was only pretending with this man earlier. Now I am going to marry your father." The banquet hall buzzed with whispers. Everyone expected me to get jealous and blow up. Instead, I said the child came first and calmly handed the ring to the boyfriend sitting below the stage. Seeing how cooperative I was, my fiancée grinned and promised she would give me a healthy baby boy someday as a thank you. However, she seemed to have forgotten that we had not officially tied the knot yet. Truth be told, I had no intention of ever doing so.

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.

During the car accident, Ethan Jones used his body as a shield, protecting me so that I could walk away unscathed. However, when he finally woke up, his memory was frozen at eighteen years old, back when Millie Brown was his girlfriend. Ethan’s friends advised me to let go and fulfill their love story instead. They said that only by Millie’s side would Ethan—the model student everyone admired—step down from his pedestal and live a life. Apparently, I, the obedient, well-behaved girl, made his life dull and lifeless. What no one knew was that, amid the buzzing cicadas of summer, that well-behaved girl had fallen for him—year after year, never once wavering. So, I waited foolishly for Ethan to remember me until three years later, when I was diagnosed with cancer. On that very day, I finally saw the surprise he had mentioned preparing for me before the accident. Only then did I truly let go, and when he handed me the divorce papers once again, I signed my name.

On the day of our engagement, my girlfriend, Alessia Pratt, was nowhere to be found. My mom, Lizzie Spencer, looked more and more displeased. I finally stepped out to call Alessia. As I passed a private dining room, I caught a glimpse of her through the door, which hadn't been fully closed. She was having dinner with her first love, Amos Farrell, and his family. Amos's hand slid onto her waist, and he leaned in until his head was against her ear. They looked incredibly intimate. Mom had come out looking for me, and she saw it too. She gave a cold snort. "You treat her like a treasure. You treated her like a treasure and were even willing to give her a share of our family's fortune, worth tens of millions of dollars. And what do you get for it?" I sighed, finally giving up on her for good. "If she doesn't care about it, there's no reason for me to keep throwing it at her."

I run into my fiancé's childhood sweetheart at the entrance of a bar on Valentine's Day. She's been drugged and is unconscious. This time, I pretend not to see her and leave without another look back. I didn't know who she was in my past life and saved her out of kindness. Then, I accidentally saw my fiancé's name tattooed on her collarbone. I thought it was just a misunderstanding until I answered her phone and heard my fiancé's voice on the other end of the line. I hung up out of jealousy and anger. I ignored the 99 calls he gave me. I took his childhood sweetheart to one of my family's hotels and made sure she was well taken care of before leaving. Unexpectedly, she was violated that night. She committed suicide out of shame. My fiancé acted like nothing happened after hearing of this. He proceeded to give me a grand wedding. Then, when I found out I was pregnant, he broke my legs and locked me up at home. I broke down and asked him why he was doing this. He laughed manically. "Averie wouldn't have been violated if not for you. She wouldn't have taken her own life! It's all your fault!" To my surprise, when I open my eyes again, I find myself back to the day I run into Averie Lancaster outside the bar.

After an earthquake, my boyfriend chooses to save a manipulative woman who's closest to the door. I'm pinned to the floor by a cupboard, but he forgets all about me. I pass out from the pain. When I wake up, I discover that my right hand is now useless. My boyfriend apologizes to me. He tells me he was only thinking about saving a life. Later, my boyfriend is diagnosed with a terminal illness. I'm the only person in the world who can save him. He weeps and begs me for help, but I can't hold a scalpel anymore.

Ever since Sienna Sawyer heard her boyfriend, Tristan Lawrence, call out his first love's name in bed, she'd become a completely different person. When he worked late into the night, she no longer left a light on for him. When he got blackout drunk at a private club, she no longer rushed over in a panic to bring him home. And when Tristan lost a game at a class reunion and was dared to share a cookie with a woman of his choice, he picked Willa Bennett. As they nibbled toward the middle from opposite ends, their lips accidentally brushed. But Sienna simply smiled, clapping and cheering along with everyone else. When the game ended, Tristan spotted Sienna among the applauding crowd. His expression changed instantly. He pushed through the crowd, marched up to her, and grabbed her wrist. “Sienna! I know you've never liked these kinds of games. That's why I didn't pick you. And that kiss was an accident. I...” Sienna interrupted him with a smile. “I know. You don't have to explain. Go on, get back to the game. Don't ruin everyone else's fun.” Tristan froze.

One week after my death, my husband, Christopher Ford, was making love on our bed with his one true love. His face showed pure satisfaction. "Finally, I don’t have to deal with that bar hostess anymore." Later, he held my belongings, weeping with regret. "Phoebe, why haven’t you come back?" It seemed he had forgotten that he had already pushed me to my death that night. I was forced to donate my bone marrow to his one true love, and I died, along with our unborn child.

When she married Harry Slate, she was 22 years old while he was 32. During their three years of marriage, he showered her with endless tenderness and would give her anything she wanted. He said he could pick the stars for her if she wanted, even the moon if she so wished. He spoiled her like she was a precious treasure. The only thing was that he had insatiable demands every night. He would chuckle and refuse to let her go, even when she cried and begged for mercy. She knew Harry had a lot of money and a lot of love—and all of it belonged to her. The day her father passed away, she called him 99 times, yet he declined every single one. The next second, she received a photo taken by her best friend. [Celine, is this your man? I saw him hugging a woman on the streets of Palto.] After tapping the photo and seeing the man and the woman, Celine Quest felt as though she had fallen into an icy abyss. The man was Harry, and the woman was her aunt.

Everyone knew that Simon Zimmer and Luna Springfield had been friends with benefits for a year, but they had chosen to hide it from Bertha Marsh, the deaf one. During a New Year’s gathering, Bertha's cold attitude caused displeasure to Simon’s friend. “Simon, is Bertha kicking up a fuss again? Seriously, that doctor of yours is more considerate. She knows how to get you into a good mood and doesn’t throw tantrums,” he said loudly with disdain. Simon’s expression turned dark, and he snapped at him. “Don’t say anything you shouldn’t. Bertha’s the most important person to me. I’ll die if she leaves.” He then anxiously signed to Bertha to ask whether she was sick. What he did not know was that Bertha had heard it all, and their future together was over.

Five years ago, I was the rising star of the nation’s top chemistry research lab, but on the eve of publishing the results of my study, my husband’s crush, Grace, killed me. She made several people violate me and cut my face up. Then, she injected sulfuric acid into my stomach, crushed my teeth and bones, and discarded my body without anyone’s knowledge. At that time, I was three months pregnant. But she told everyone that I stole the project’s research results and fled to another country. Jim, my husband, personally wrote a report to the government to label me as a globally wanted criminal. Five years later, a livestreamer who did nighttime explorations found my dried-up corpse in the basement of an abandoned warehouse.

On the day Owen Mercer and I get married, I place our marriage certificate beside our candlelit dinner. Just as I'm about to take a picture and upload it to social media, Owen suddenly says, "This certificate is fake." I freeze. A woman's startled voice comes through his phone, "Hey! Why did you tell her so soon? You ruined all the fun!" Owen frowns in frustration. "She's been completely clueless this entire time. Is there really any reason to keep pretending? Fine. You win the bet, Ms. McCoy. Are you satisfied now?" But my post has already been shared on social media. Everyone is sending their congratulations to Owen and me, celebrating that we have finally tied the knot after seven years together. The woman on the other end leaves a sarcastic comment, just like how she used to bully me back in the day. "Wow, look at you two finally making it official! So when's the reception? Hehe!" After a moment's thought, I respond, "Next week."

Cole Jackman married me to repay a life‑saving debt. Eight years after I entered the Jackman family with tens of billions, his long‑lost, unreachable first love, Ashley White, returned, with her child. Because Ashley had a nightmare, she claimed my son, Oliver Jackman, would bring misfortune to her child. Cole believed her without hesitation. He sent Oliver to an abandoned monastery deep in the mountains, forcing him to fast for seven days to “purify” whatever darkness Ashley imagined. I knelt before him, pleading, “Oliver has a heart condition. He won’t survive seven days without food.” Cole, busy preparing nutritious meals for Ashley, didn’t even look at me. “He won’t die from a few days of hunger. If he can’t endure this, he doesn’t deserve to be my son.” He locked me in the basement for the entire seven days. By the time I reached Oliver, he was already gone. I carried him home in my arms, his small body cold and still. Cole kicked me aside as he pulled Ashley into his embrace. “You’ve ruined our son! He’d even pretend to be dead just to deceive me. If you can’t discipline him, I’ll find him a new mother.” I wiped the tears from my face and dialed my older brother, Emilio Darcy. “Withdraw your investment,” I said, my voice steady for the first time in years. “Bankrupt the Jackman family.”

The day my ex finally made it big, the doctor told me I had less than three months to live. On TV, a reporter was interviewing James Larson. “Mr. Larson, what drove you to success?” James chuckled, but his eyes were misty. “The biggest push? Probably when I was diagnosed with kidney disease eight years ago, and my ex walked out on me.” “I’m grateful she didn’t marry me. That was the wake-up call I needed.” After the interview, he called. “Amelia Simmons, I made it. Do you regret it now?” I rested a hand on the spot where my kidney used to be and let out a bitter laugh. “I do. And I have cancer now. Happy?” James sounded satisfied. “Serves you right.” He never knew—I got cancer because I gave him my kidney all those years ago.

My boyfriend's childhood friend got knocked up. To save her rep, Quentin Palmer married her. When I asked what that meant for me—and our baby—he stayed ice-calm. "Rainee's not like you. I'm all she's got. She wouldn't survive the gossip." Like I had anyone else? Like I wasn't carrying his baby too? Later, while people laughed behind my back about the "fatherless" kid I was having, Quentin just stood there—next to Rainee, silent. That's when it hit me—love comes with a pecking order. So I ended the pregnancy. Gave up my baby... all so he could play the hero for her.

The day before my wedding, my daughter and I got into a car accident. My daughter died instantly, and I was left with broken legs, condemned to spend the rest of my life in a wheelchair. When Spencer Ford found out, he rushed us to the hospital, his actions frantic, almost out of control. In the midst of my pain, I overheard a conversation between Spencer and his assistant. "The car's been disposed of. Lorelei will never find out that we tampered with it. But I'm compelled to ask… Rowena was your own daughter. Was it really worth it, losing her for Melanie? "When Rowena was dying, she was calling for you to save her… I could hardly bring myself to do it." Spencer remained silent for a long time, the tension in the air thick. Then he slowly exhaled a plume of smoke. "Melanie's pregnant. I won't let anyone compete with her child for the inheritance. And all of this is Lorelei's fault. She brought it on herself."