Mga Maiikling Kwento tungkol sa Tragic Love at mga Nobela ng Ruthless na may Regret

My parents made Dana and me settle it with rock-paper-scissors. Loser had to marry the Baillieu heir—the so-called "freak." I won. Then flipped the script. "Cool. I'll take Blake. Dana can have the empire." Last time? I was dumb in love with Michael—Dad's adopted golden boy. Chose the company, stayed behind, and handed Dana off to Blake Baillieu. Big mistake. Six months in, Dana was gone—wrecked by that marriage. Right before she croaked, she texted Michael blaming me. Said I lost the game and ditched the deal, dumping Blake on her. Michael? Snapped. Dude went full psycho. Turns out, he and Dana had been sneaking around for years. He dragged me behind the Baillieu estate and forced a dozen intellectually disabled men to assault me. "If it weren't for your cruelty, Dana would still be alive! You'll pay for everything she suffered!" I was over eight months pregnant—almost due. Begged him to stop. Begged for my baby's life. He didn't care. Kept ordering them to take turns. Even when my water broke, he just watched. Both my baby and I died that night. Now? I'm back. And this time, I rewrote the story. Step one: marry Blake.

I was the belle of the school, good grades and all. But I wasn't the nerd they thought I was. I had been secretly dating my adopted brother's sworn enemy for three years. Lucian Palma had a strong desire for intimacy, so I went along with him in unlocking countless places to make love. He promised that he would marry me after graduation. Once he took over the family business from his wealthy father, he would make me the happiest woman alive. I believed him, even indulging him in his kink of recording us sleeping together. Lucian assured me that those videos were for his eyes only, and that no one else would ever see them. But then, I accidentally overheard a conversation between Lucian and his friends. "Lucian, you had deliberately staged a hero saving the damsel in distress situation to make Nina Etienne fall for you, all just to get it back at your archnemesis, Aaron North. If he found out his little sister had been sleeping with you, wouldn't it kill him with rage? "You've filmed hundreds of intimate videos, haven't you? When do you plan to release them? We'd love to see the nerd stripped bare under you." I didn't confront him about this. Instead, I quietly walked away and agreed to meet the fiance my father had arranged for me.

My husband, Joaquin Landon, is a renowned wax sculptor. He hangs up on me when I call him to save my life so he can focus on the wax sculpture his cousin wants. Amphetamine is injected into my system, so my mind is clear as I watch my nails get removed one by one. Every inch of my skin is covered in burning hot wax. My hair and lashes are plucked off, and my organs are ground. Steel pipes are inserted into my legs, and I'm turned into a wax sculpture. Joaquin sees me during an exhibition. His colleague tells him that the wax sculpture he sees looks eerily like me, but he merely looks disgusted. "All she does is cause trouble and act unreasonably. She's better off dead." What he doesn't know is that I already am. Joaquin doesn't recognize that I'm the wax sculpture before him.

I'm waiting for my wife, Sophia Young, to pick me up. My colleague, Tony Shaw, who habitually hitches a ride with us, stays with me. He complains incessantly, "Why isn't your wife here yet? It's freezing cold! I'd prefer to be home by today!" He lives in the western part of the city. Every time we drive him home, Sophia has to make a large detour. However, my stomach is killing me that day, so I politely break things to him while cradling my stomach. "Tony, I'm not feeling well today and would like to get home early to rest. You should take a taxi home yourself. I'll let you hitch a ride next time." Tony snorts coldly and walks away. I wait downstairs for another 30 minutes, only to receive a call from Sophia. She informs me, "Traffic along the street outside your office is unusually congested. I've stopped the car at the intersection up ahead, so come find me there." I venture into the rain to find her car while struggling to keep the umbrella up and open. When I open the car door, I realize it's already filled with her colleagues and there's no space for me. Sophia rolls the window halfway down and points at the blond-haired man drying his hair with a towel in the front passenger seat. She explains, "Ian saw his friend at the intersection just now. The handsome young man looked rather pitiful soaking in the rain, so I gave him a lift. Your company's close by anyway, so why don't you head back in there first? I'll come back to pick you up once I've sent them home." The storm ruins my umbrella, and rain gets in my eyes, making them sting painfully. As I gaze at Sophia's packed car, I find that my marriage to her suddenly feels incredibly meaningless.

On the eve of my wedding, I was run over by my fiance's childhood friend. My life was in danger. My best friend tried to call my fiance, but he hung up directly. He sent her a text message. "Ruth is sick. I don't have time." My best friend then called her boyfriend who happened to be a well-connected celebrity. However, he said, "Ruth is sick. She needs me by her side right now." After a night of resuscitation, we looked at each other in the ward and spoke at the same time. "I don't want to get married." To our surprise, both our fiances went crazy when they found out we called off our weddings.

For ten years, I was Vincent's blood bag and his sharpest blade. I offered my rare blood to sustain his ancient power. I offered my loyalty to secure his throne as the Vampire Lord of this territory. I thought my devotion might earn me the eternal embrace of the turning. Instead, I received the announcement of his marriage to Lilith. A princess from a powerful European vampire clan. He said it was a necessary alliance. He said my blood was still precious. But when the sanctified silver tearing through the car,he used my body as a shield, to ensure his bride remained unblemished. That's when I knew. I was never his lover. I was just a consumable resource, a blood bag to be used and discarded. So, when I was ordered to become his blood servant under the title of his fiancée, I made a call to my father. “In seven days,” I said, my voice clear and final in the dark, “make the name Elena Rossi disappear from this city. From vampire’s world. Forever.” In seven days, when Vincent finds his precious living blood bank gone, he went insane. And this decade-long game of predator and prey… will have a new set of rules.

Five years into our marriage, every time I accidentally brushed against my wife's skin, she would punish me by making me kneel in a tub of disinfectant while reciting the Code of Male Conduct. Then one day, I noticed a suspicious red mark on her collarbone and instinctively reached out to touch it. Even though she lost her temper, stormed out, and slammed the door behind her, she surprisingly didn't punish me afterward. Naively, I thought she was finally starting to tolerate my touch. But the next day, my virginity was listed in an auction attended by wealthy heiresses from Lowarke City's elite—scheduled to be sold off two days later. Rachel Bloom's friends leered at my photo as they calculated how much they'd bid, while she stood by completely indifferent, scrubbing herself over and over with disinfectant. "Rupert kissed that spot, and Michael dared to touch it? Who does he think he is? Just looking at him makes me sick."

Nadine Sullivan doesn't come home to have dinner with me on my birthday. Instead, she transfers 100 dollars to me and sends me a text, saying, "I love you." Coincidentally, a resident doctor at her hospital updates his social media with a photo. It's a screenshot of her transferring 10,000 dollars to him. She's also texted him, "I love you to the moon and back." I don't throw a tantrum or kick up a fuss. All I do is leave the city without hesitation. The first day after my departure, I hear that Nadine is unfazed. She says, "He'll be back after a few days." The first month after my departure, Nadine calls me. "I'll transfer 100 thousand dollars to you, alright? Can you come back now?" I've never wanted her money, though.

My fiancé’s first love Chloe had returned. Rumor had it she’d been overseas, treating some rare disease. I hadn’t believed it—until the day she showed up at my engagement party. And I watched as the man I’d been hopelessly in love with since I was sixteen left our party with her. “Wait for me,” Nathan said, “She is fragile. I need to make sure she is well.” He ignored me, but accompanying her to everywhere. I threw away the rings, trashed the wedding gown. When I was pale and trembling from a heart failure later. Nathan finally showed up. “Don’t you dare die on me, Emily,” His hands were shaking. His voice cracked. “We still have a wedding.”

Five years after my death, my daughter, Emma, dialed Xander Green’s number. She cautiously asked, "Do you like my mom?" She was trying to get an answer to the question I once wrote in my diary. "Xander, do you like me?" Unexpectedly, the voice on the other end sneered, "Did your mom put you up to this? Using her own daughter like a pawn? What an unfaithful woman! She’s already with your dad, yet still trying to rekindle things with me?"

I'd loved Jeffrey for seven years. When I was kidnapped, Jeffrey didn't pay the ransom because of Joanna. He wanted me to behave myself. After I endured hellish torture, I gave up Jeffrey as he wished. But he begged me to give him a second chance.

Seven years ago, my husband, the King of the Humans, banished me to the Everfrost Plains, where my life came to a tragic end. Seven years later, a grave illness befalls the Queen of the Humans, and blood spills endlessly from her lips. The clerics claim that I have cursed her. Only the blood taken from my heart can cure her fully. Gareth Lancaster, my former husband, comforts his new wife, the queen, and says, "You have nothing to fear. To think she's still trying to harm you, her older sister, even when she has been exiled! "I'll march to the Everfrost Plains right away and carve her heart out to use as your cure. Then, I'll have her soul sent to hell to suffer in torment for all eternity." Sword in hand, Gareth heads to the Everfrost Plains. He finds a Serpentkin, one who should've died in the Great War of the Beasts and Men seven years ago. The Serpentkin has frozen solid, standing before my grave with his hands clasped together as if in prayer. In front of my grave sits a young girl. She says, "You won't be able to take my mother's heart. She died many years ago. I stayed here to let the truth be known to all…"

Mark Carlson and I had been a secret couple for three years. He was nothing but my boss at work. But at home, he treated me however he pleased, with no regard for my feelings. One day, I noticed him researching marriage. My heart leapt with joy. I prepared my proof of identity and other relevant documents, thinking he was finally ready, but he went to the marriage registration office with another woman. "You're married now. You should clean up things at home quickly,” one of his friends said, grinning. "Yeah, I should. But honestly, she does not have to leave entirely,” Mark replied with a smirk. I watched as everyone laughed, their faces filled with delight. Tears streamed down my face as I turned away. I pulled out my phone and called my childhood friend, Andy Selton. "You wanted to marry me, didn't you?” I asked, my voice trembling. Later, two weddings were held on the same day. Mark's face filled with regret as he stared at my wedding photo with Andy. In the middle of his ceremony, he left his bride behind and drove to find me. But by then, I was already married to my husband!

My mother's condition suddenly takes a turn for the worse. She begins coughing up blood, and the doctor says she must undergo surgery as soon as possible. I call my girlfriend, Daniella Dooley, who is working in another state. She is the leading gynecologist in the field and the only doctor with any hope of saving my mother. The moment she receives my call, she sets out without hesitation. But halfway through the journey, she tells me that an emergency surgery has cropped up and that she can't make it back. I crouch in the hospital corridor in despair, calling her again and again. All I can do is watch as my mother's heartbeat on the monitor grows weaker and weaker. On the 99th call, she finally answers. My voice is almost pleading as I say, "Daniella, my mother's condition is really critical right now. You're the only one who can perform this surgery. I'm begging you, please come back!" For a long time, she says nothing. I wait and wait, only for her to hang up without uttering a single word. Then, I see a post from her junior, Jackson Bleeth. It shows a sunny-side-up egg that she has just made for him with her precious hands. Accompanying it is a caption that feels almost provocative. "I had a little accident during surgery today. Not only did Daniella not blame me, but she even encouraged me." So the "emergency surgery" she mentioned is actually cleaning up Jackson's mess. At the moment when I am at my most desperate, she abandons me and chooses to go to another man.

Love is both salvation and torment. If Bella Ramsey were given another chance, she swore—she would never fall in love with Seth Rogan again.

My husband has azoospermia. After trying all the options available, I finally conceived. However, my husband is worried my child will hurt his first love's feelings—she had a miscarriage. He tricks me into going for a prenatal checkup. In truth, he conspires with a doctor to induce labor when I'm only five months along. He says, "You must be the one with the problem. Why else is it so hard for us to have children? The baby won't be healthy even if it's born! We can have more children when you're healthier. Julie has just had a miscarriage; I don't want to aggravate her." He doesn't know he has azoospermia. I only managed to conceive this child after trying out IVF countless times and taking countless folk remedies. He will never have a child of his own in this lifetime, and I discover his true colors. I ask for a divorce, and that's when he loses his mind.

My husband was a senior military officer and a hardcore military fanatic. When I went into labor and my life was at risk, I begged him to sign the consent form for an emergency C-section. Instead, he looked at me coldly and asked, “What’s the maximum cruising speed of a Boeing 747? Answer correctly, and I’ll sign.” Later, my body tore from the prolonged labor, and our son suffocated to death. He said calmly, as if reciting a fact, “One thousand one hundred and twenty-seven kilometers per hour. Remember that?” At that moment, I looked at his indifferent expression and realized that I no longer loved him. With that, I left behind the divorce papers and disappeared from his life. “Felix, the military-illiterate wife you were ashamed of will never come back.”

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.]

My boyfriend is a forensic artist. He was forced to make a harrowing decision to save his first love. At the killer's demand, he created a portrait from a photo—he never realized that the young girl in the photo was me in my childhood. Two weeks later, the police investigate a grisly bomb explosion and dismemberment case. The victim's identity was unrecognizable, and the investigation dragged on for days as the authorities desperately searched the blast site, looking for my remains. After three days and nights, they finally recovered enough of my remains to reconstruct my face. When my boyfriend unknowingly brought the shattered fragments back to life with his art, he was confronted with a horrifying truth—one that drove him to the edge of madness.

When my husband threatened me with divorce for the hundredth time, demanding I sacrifice myself for my sister, I did not cry or make a scene. I simply signed my name on the divorce papers and willingly handed over the man I had loved for ten years to my sister. A few days later, my sister spoke recklessly at a banquet and offended a powerful family. Once again, I stepped forward to take responsibility, bearing all the consequences in her place. When they later proposed that I become a test subject for my sister's drug research, I gladly accepted. Mom and Dad said I had finally grown into someone mature and responsible. Even my cold husband stood by my hospital bed and, for the first time in so long, gently stroked my cheek. He said tenderly, "Don't be afraid. The experiment won't be life-threatening. When you get out, I'll cook you a big meal." However, he did not know that regardless of whether the experiment was dangerous or not, he did not have to wait for me because I was already dying from a terminal illness.