Tragic Love Short Stories & Scumbag Countdown Novels

I loved my husband, Damian, for fifteen years—from school uniforms to a wedding dress. Everyone said he doted on me down to his bones. Until I saw him with my own eyes, shielding another woman in his arms. All because of one absurd misunderstanding, he chose to cheat on me as payback—and even let his mistress get pregnant without a flicker of guilt. I didn't cry. I didn't make a scene. I just smiled and tricked him into signing the divorce papers, ready to disappear from his world for good. But I never expected that his best friend, Lucian, had been waiting for me in the shadows all along. I used to think he was gloomy, that he hated me. I never knew that he had loved me for fifteen years like a madman. When Damian finally realized his mistake and got down on his knees begging me to come back, he found me locked in Lucian's arms. Damian stared at his former best friend, almost unhinged: "She's my wife! You went behind my back and took my brother's woman—do you have any morals?!" Lucian just flung the signed divorce certificate in his face, and smiled—cold, and utterly possessive: "I'm chasing my own wife. What morals do I need?" "And watch your filthy mouth. From now on, you call her Mrs. Kane."

I was a slum kid who fell for Damon Vitale, New York’s most feared Godfather. For five years, I was his. I took nine bullets for him. He’d kiss my scars as I bled out for him. Hold me close. Clasp the queen’s necklace around my throat. Then, once I healed, he’d fuck me senseless, with a passion that felt like forever. I thought we’d spend our lives together. I thought he would marry me. But on our 999th night together, he told me he was engaged. To Bianca, a mafia princess from a rival family. I swallowed my tears. He just grabbed my chin, blew smoke in my face, and laughed. "You didn't really think you could marry me, did you, Nora? Let's be clear. We fuck. That's it. You're not a partner. You're a piece of art I collect. A pet I own." A pet. That’s all he ever wanted for me. Instead, I picked up a burner phone. [I'm taking your offer. Three days. Get me the hell out of New York.]

On our fifth anniversary, my fiance, Antonio Miller, the head of a powerful mafia syndicate, takes me to see the northern lights. Before we set out, our guide warns everyone to bundle up against the cold. Antonio immediately wraps his childhood friend, Simona Weaver, in his own winter gear, terrified that she'll freeze. When a blizzard hits, he piles every piece of warm clothing he can find around her. He never notices me standing nearby until I lose consciousness from the cold. When I finally open my eyes, Antonio's furious face fills my vision. "Camilla, why didn't you tell me you weren't feeling well?" We've been together for five years, yet when I wake up after collapsing, his first reaction isn't concern. It's anger. After the trip, I cancel our engagement party and book a flight to Westmere. I've heard the mountains there are another perfect place to see the northern lights. When Antonio finds out, he sends me a single message. "Camilla, don't test our love like this. Simona's father died saving my life. I promised him I'd take care of her." But there's one thing Antonio doesn't know. I only have ten days left to live.

For seven years, I stood by Reese Moretti as he fought his way up from a mafia nobody until he stood as an equal among the Three Families. Then I got pregnant with Reese's child. He promised me the wedding of the century. I was overjoyed and couldn't wait for our future together. Until his childhood sweetheart, Layla, came back, and everything changed. Layla was frail, and she'd once done Reese a great favor. Without even realizing it, he began to favor her over me—his fiancée. One week before the wedding, Layla shoved me to the floor. She leaned in close to my ear. "Ivy, if Reese walks in and sees us both on the floor, who do you think he'll worry about?" Before I could react, Layla suddenly screamed and collapsed. When Reese rushed in, Layla was clutching her chest, whispering weakly that her old heart condition had flared up. "Reese, I can't breathe. I don't think I can hold on much longer." Before I could say a word, Reese scooped Layla up in his arms and rushed her to the private medical wing. Blood spread beneath me. In that moment, the pain in my body was nothing compared to the agony of my heart tearing apart. Seven years of love and the child not yet fully formed inside me vanished in that single instant. Heartbroken and numb, I decided to leave and let them be together. But Reese refused to let me go.

When Tessa Shoreman read Henry Jennings' cancer report, she immediately paid her hard-earned money of sixty thousand to the hospital. She had saved the money from working part-time while she was in university. However, she was worried the money was not enough, so she held back her fear as she sold a kidney to the black market to get more. As she walked to the ward door with a heavy bag filled with cash, she heard shrill laughter coming from inside. "That cheap woman, Tessa Shoreman, got tricked by us again. Haha!" Tessa's hand gave pause right when she was about to push the door open. What did he mean by saying she was tricked? Tessa looked through the glass on the door to see inside the ward. When she left, the man looked extremely weak, but he was now sitting up lazily in bed. Henry had a cigarette in his mouth, and he was blowing smoke rings nonchalantly. He did not look like a cancer patient at all. "It's been two years, and that woman still has no idea." "If she hadn't beaten Serene to first place, Henry would never have left behind his life as a rich heir and planned such an elaborate scheme to become a working-class man living in a cheap rental home. The way that cheap, penniless woman looks at Henry is so amusing." "We agreed that the punishment ends when Henry and Serene get engaged. It looks like time is almost up. We've probably punished her 108 times in the past two years." "The first time was lying to her that Henry didn't have a suit for a job interview. She worked tirelessly for 72 hours straight before she earned enough money for one, but that suit was given to the domestic help to use as a cleaning cloth. The second time was tricking her into believing Henry had a high fever. She forfeited during the finals of a scientific research competition to race home and take care of Henry in the hospital…" "Sigh. Too bad it's coming to an end. I'm going to miss entertaining myself with her."

At the Thanksgiving dinner, Raphael's assistant Daphne was sitting in my seat. I frowned at Raphael. “Why is she in the Donna's seat? Doesn’t she know, and don’t you?” Raphael clicked his tongue, impatient. “You're the one who showed up late. People sit where they want. If it bothers you, leave.” I opened my mouth to argue, and his thoughts reached me before I could. [Scarlett, get angry. Fight back.] [Tell me you're my wife, the Donna of the Sterling family, that no one else has the right to sit at my side.] [Prove you love me. It's the only thing that makes me feel safe.] This time, I didn't give his thoughts what they were begging for. I slid the wedding ring off my finger instead. “That's the Donna's seat. If you've decided she belongs in it, I won't argue.” “Let's get divorced.”

In their four years of marriage, Ethan Sterling had always refused to visit any romantic couple destinations with his wife, Pearl Whitmore. He said she was shallow and just chasing trends. However, when his first love came back from overseas, he could not wait to take her up the legendary mountain where it was said couples who climbed it successfully would grow old together. Pearl divorced him and moved abroad. However, Ethan followed her to the new country, sobbing as he searched for her in the ruins...

Everyone believed Ethan Cross loved Isabella Winters to his core, but nobody knew he'd already found an Isabella look-alike to keep him company through the lonely nights. Even when Isabella recovered, he continued his affair. Little did he know that Isabella's recovery was temporary—within two months, she would lose every memory she'd ever made. After that, she would forget Ethan completely, and her love for him would be erased forever.

I had been in love with Leo, the Don of a Mafia family. For seven years, I was there with him through the darkest nights, cleaned up after him more times than I could count, and convinced myself that he would give me the ending I deserved. When word got back to me that Leo was planning a proposal, I could barely contain the tremble in my fingers. However, the woman he was proposing to wasn’t me. My eyes burned, and my voice was barely a whisper. “Why?” Leo pulled me into his arms in assurance, his chest warm against my skin, but the words coming out of his mouth were anything but. “Nina has cancer. Her only wish is to know what it’s like to be proposed to. I couldn’t say no to her. “This is the one thing I can do for her.” As Leo slipped the ring onto Nina’s finger, his expression earnest, the past seven years I’d spent loving him felt like a joke. Nina got her happy ending. All I got was a rude awakening. Now that the dream was over, it was time for me to walk away.

I begged Dylan Leveson three hundred and four times to take my dying dad on one last trip out to sea. Guess what? He bailed. I stood on the shore, watching the warmth fade from my dad's body, breath by breath—alone—while Dylan played Romeo in the highlands. Millie Stone—his forever flame—posted a cozy little selfie: [Far from the world, as long as I have you.] I accidentally hit like. Dylan popped up instantly. [How many times have I told you to leave Millie alone? Can't control yourself? We're getting a divorce!] Oh, the classic divorce threat. I'd lost count. [Cool. Divorce it is.]

My boyfriend, James Hendrick, had an obsessive need for personal space. It took me five years of pleading before he finally agreed to let me move in with him. As I dragged my luggage and waited downstairs at his apartment building for five hours, his phone remained switched off the entire time. Just as I was shivering from the cold, I looked up and noticed the lights in his apartment were on. Thinking he had gotten home early, I asked the security guard to let me in. After the doorbell rang three times, the door finally opened. However, the person standing there was not James. It was Serene Alison, wearing one of his oversized shirts. "Maria? What brings you here?" Serene asked innocently as she wiped her half-dry hair. Then she explained, "James said there would be a hurricane in the next few days. He was worried my apartment might leak, so he left me his keys and told me to stay here for half a month." Through the crack in the door, I saw the entryway shoe cabinet stuffed with her high heels. I froze where I stood. Just then, James' WhatsApp message popped up on my phone. "The company suddenly sent me on a business trip. Let's postpone moving in until next month." At the same time, I saw Serene's post from ten minutes earlier. "Having a caring big brother is the best. He even changed the bedsheets to my favorite pink by himself." The attached photo showed James making the bed for her. Only then did I finally understand that his so-called obsession with personal space had only ever applied to me.

There's a rule in Pine Ridge—women are only allowed to leave the mountain seven times in their lives. If they aren't able to marry a foreigner who's not from Pine Ridge, they can only marry a local mountaineer and become a guardian of the mountain. Because of that, I've borrowed some cosmetics from my grandma seven times in a row. Every time, I'm often wearing my prettiest dress and waiting for the man, who has promised to whisk me away from Pine Ridge, to marry me. But despite having crossed the mountain and reached the same town seven times in a row, Joseph Kingsley is never there. In the village, the village chief, Arthur Langley, has a smoke pipe dangling from his lips. "This is your seventh time leaving Pine Ridge just to get your marriage registered. That director boyfriend of yours has gone over to the next village just to shoot more footage of the lass who has a really pretty smile. "Caroline, your boyfriend is already behaving like this. Why are you still waiting for him?" I clumsily pull out the phone Joseph has given me before keying in his number. The dial tone goes off three times before the call goes through. Only then does Joseph explain the truth to me. "When Gemma took us on a foraging trip, she got trapped by one of the bear traps in the mountain! You do realize that if a woman from Pine Ridge were to get crippled, no villager would want to marry her at all because she'd be a burden to them! "If I were to leave Gemma alone, her life would be ruined! This is the last time, Caroline! Once I ensure that Gemma's leg gets healed, I'll come marry you right away!" Joseph has been in Pine Ridge for four years so far. Throughout these years, I've hiked the mountain and braved the elements for him seven times in a row. But Gemma Watson keeps getting into trouble. Whenever that happens, Joseph will abandon me without hesitation. As I gaze at the phone, which shows that the call has gotten disconnected, I wipe away my tears quietly. There won't be a last time anymore. In three days, I will be marrying someone else.

At our engagement party, the men of my Mafia fiancé, Daniel Rizzo, egged everyone into an old family game: Secret Truths. When it was Nikki's turn, his childhood sweetheart spoke in French. "The groom likes me far more than his dull, wooden bride-to-be." The whole room erupted in laughter. Glasses clinked all around us. Daniel rolled his wineglass between his fingers and replied with an amused smile, also in French. "Who doesn't enjoy a fresher, juicier peach?" The laughter nearly brought down the roof. Nikki swatted his arm flirtatiously. "You're awful. Aren't you afraid she'll find out?" Daniel turned to me and smiled. "She doesn't understand." Without missing a beat, he drew me against his broad chest. I let him hold me while something inside me turned to ice. What none of them knew was that I had been born in Paris. French was the first language I ever learned. I fought down the ache in my throat, kept a polite smile fixed on my face, and quietly slipped my engagement ring off my trembling finger. I'd made a bet with my family that Daniel would love me for who I was, without knowing my wealth or my family name. I'd lost. It was time to go home.

My husband can't find his way anywhere. He can't read a map, and turn-by-turn directions only confuse him more. He got lost on our wedding day and turned up so late the ceremony had to be pushed back three days. He got lost on our anniversary while a table of food I'd cooked went cold. Eight months pregnant, I fell in the bathroom and called him for help. He sounded frantic on the phone, and then he got lost on the road home, the one he'd driven for five years. By the time he reached the hospital, our son had already been taken to the funeral home and cremated. I couldn't climb out of it, and everyone around me took his side. "That thick head of his can't hold a road. He wasn't late on purpose. Don't start a fight over it. You'll have another baby." I nodded, numb. Then, on the way to my son's funeral, I found out my husband had sent the driver away and taken a long detour to his assistant's house without a single wrong turn. "Grace, the service won't start for a while. I'll run Paige to the airport first. She's got to get back home." Before I could say no, we were already at her door. His assistant slid into the front passenger seat like it belonged to her, and every word out of her mouth landed somewhere tender. "See how well I've trained you? You forget the way to my place and I'll pull your pants down and deal with you." It was only when she noticed me in the back seat that she stuck out her tongue, embarrassed. "Sorry, Ms. Ellison. I was joking." I swallowed it and said nothing. And after Owen dropped her off, he lost the route to the cemetery again, and my son's service started half an hour late. Holding that small urn against me, I stopped hoping. So there was someone he could make an exception for. It just wasn't me, and it wasn't our son.

Everyone in the mercenary group knew just how deeply Liam Smith loved me and feared losing me. He even suppressed his dark desires to make sure I felt truly safe. No matter how dangerous the mission, he made sure to check in every single day. Worried for his safety, I hid my identity and secretly became his team’s hacker. However, after one mission, I overheard the others joking over the radio: "Chief was in such a rush to pick that lock and go after Wendy. What's so irresistible about her?" Through an unattended monitor, I caught Liam glancing at the camera with a teasing smile. "Didn't I tell you guys that she nearly wrung me dry the last time we did it?" It felt like I had fallen into an ice-cold abyss. My heart shattered, and I summoned the system. [I want to leave this world.] The cold, mechanical voice replied without delay: [Once you leave, all traces of the host in this world will be erased.] [Starting the countdown: Seven days left.]

My parents adopted a kid, and I treated him like treasure. Then he started looking uncannily like my husband, Brian. And I caught him whispering "Mom" to my sister, Ruby. Yeah. Plot twist: Brian had been cheating on me the whole time. With Ruby. They played house behind my back, smiling for family pics—with my parents' blessing. When the truth blew up, Ruby had the audacity to beg me to step aside. My parents told me to get over it. And that kid I loved like my own? Told me I deserved to die. But here's the kicker—Brian wouldn't even sign the divorce. Dude broke down, said he still loved me, swore the kid was a mistake. So I smiled and said, "Cool. You've got seven days. Prove it, and I'll forgive you." He went full simp mode. Emptied his bank account, treated me like I was gold. Even kicked Ruby down and yelled at her to apologize. Everyone thought I'd cave. Then the cops called, asked him to ID a body—and Brian totally lost it. He never knew I'd been dead this whole time. The Reaper gave me one last week to say goodbye.

My childhood friend called, saying he was trapped in a fire. He wanted to hear my voice one last time, and I rushed to the scene as fast as I could. But in that small, blazing spot, there was only a cat. Stumbling, I got the cat out, but my arms got burned. A crowd gathered, pointing at me and laughing hysterically. "She actually went for it?" "What a simp, risking her life like that!" Safe and sound, Colin Porter stepped out of the crowd with a grin. He picked up the cat from my arms and handed it to his crush. "See? I told you the cat would be fine. When have I ever lied to you?" Turning back to me, he said, "The cat got spooked and ran into the fire. We didn't know what to do, so we called you. Thank you for your help." The people around us snickered, like they were watching a trained dog. Later, on my wedding day, my husband carried me to the car. Colin, dragging his burned, bloody legs, crawled on the ground. He begged, "I'm hurt, Selena! Come help me!"

On my birthday, I found a hidden playlist on Adrian Beckett's phone. It was called "Lost." The cover image was a photo of his ex-girlfriend. He had lost the woman he loved most. In the three years we had been together, Adrian had never once let her go. I was simply the person he turned to when loneliness caught up with him. I was a compromise. I was a habit. Right in front of me, Adrian deleted the playlist, then looked at me and asked in a flat voice, "Satisfied now?" I said nothing. Adrian reached over and gave my hair a halfhearted ruffle. "That's enough. Hayley, be good. I'll take you home to meet my parents over New Year's, all right?" But Adrian, I was going home to have a blind date on New Year's.

For the five years I was married to my mafia husband, Dante, I never once showed my face to the Moretti family. I thought it was Dante’s way of protecting me. Until a family meeting record landed in my hands by mistake. It said Dante Moretti had formally married Gianna Romano. The date was five years ago. When I saw that name, I froze. She was Dante’s most trusted capo. She’d saved his life. She was also in love with him. Five years ago, she’d been against Dante marrying me. While I was performing on stage, she deliberately sent a spotlight crashing down and destroyed my career as a pianist. Afterward, she cried and said she hadn’t meant to. Dante believed her. He couldn’t send her to prison, but he swore that from then on, he’d never let Gianna appear in front of me again. I didn’t trust Gianna, but I trusted Dante. Now I’d found out that on the very day my husband made that promise to me, he married her. I clutched that thin sheet of paper as the warmth slowly drained from my body. I didn’t go into hysterics or demand answers. Instead, I took out my phone and opened an email I’d received three days earlier—an invitation from the Aurellian Ministry of Culture to apply for citizenship through its exceptional talent program. I tapped “Accept.” Seven days from now, my name would vanish from this country without a trace.

I loved the pup my parents adopted so deeply that I cared for him as if he were my own son. At his slightest request, I willingly braved the storm to search the cliff edges for the plant he needed for tomorrow's assignment. Just as I stumbled toward them, battered and disheveled, I heard him secretly call my sister "mama, and call my mate "Dad”. It turned out my beloved Alpha mate had been cheating all along. He said it was too early for us to have pups, then turned around and started a family with my own sister. And my parents had known all along. They even wanted to force me to step down from my Luna position. The pup I cherished like my own heart cursed me with the most vicious words. Looking at them, I laughed through my tears. They didn't know I was already dead. The Moon Goddess had shown mercy—if I could receive one genuine declaration of love within these seven extra days, I could return to life. But they all wished for my death. I granted their wish. So why did they all regret it when the pack enforcers asked them to identify my body?