Tragic Love Short Stories & Scumbag Face Slapping Novels

Sean Porter and I had planned a romantic getaway to Bali island. Sean had booked a private villa at a resort overlooking the Indian Ocean. We were lying in bed, just about to get intimate, when we heard a rustling in the room. The next second, Serena Vaughn tumbled out of the closet! Terrified, I screamed at her. "How did you get in here?! Don't you know spying on people is illegal?! Get out right now, or I'm calling the cops!" Sean rushed to Serena's side and gently rubbed the angry red mark where she'd banged her shin, his face full of concern. Frowning, he told me to keep it down. "I gave Serena the door code. I'm the one who told her to hide in the closet and watch us. "She's a graduate student specializing in social psychology and romantic relationships. She needs these observations for her thesis. "Can you not overreact like this?" I froze. I couldn't believe Sean would use such a ridiculous excuse just to defend Serena. Suddenly I felt like I needed to rethink our whole relationship.

It is the third year of my marriage when the video of my bodyguard, Julian Sutherland, holding an umbrella over me in a downpour goes viral. Overnight, the internet becomes obsessed with the "Icy Protector and his Forbidden Heiress." Netizens are relentless; they dig through the archives until they unearth a ten-year-old clip. In the video, a girl was holding a pair of high-heeled shoes while sprinting through the Folander airport. My friend teased, "No way, Ms. Serina Brown. Are you really flying back home to confess to that poor man? What could you possibly see in him?" The camera shakes, capturing my youthful face. I was just a reckless 20-year-old. "I love Julian. I love everything about him." That night, after seeing the video, Julian loses his composure and bursts into my room. "I didn't know you loved me back then. I thought… I thought… God, it was never supposed to end like this." I pull my coat around me and stand rooted on the spot, remaining silent. Suddenly, a mocking laugh echoes from behind me. Someone places their hand firmly on my waist and says, "Are you trying to reminisce about your love with my wife right in front of me? Do I look dead to you?"

The day Ethan Pierce’s stepsister, who suffered from depression, threatened suicide for the ninety-ninth time, he abandoned me at the altar for the ninety-ninth time. "As a psychiatrist, I have a responsibility to my patient." And just like that, the system declared that I had failed my mission. My punishment was severe depression. Every last trace of my will to live was taken from me. From that day on, all I wanted was to die as quickly as possible so I could return to my original world. By the time Ethan finally realized that I truly wanted to die, he was desperate. He used everything he had learned in his entire career to try to cure me. To awaken even the slightest bit of love I had once felt for him. To force me to stay in this world. But I didn’t want him anymore. I hadn’t for a long time.

For six years, I waited to become Alpha Kael’s marked mate and official Luna. The first time, Lyra—his dead brother’s mate—called crying about a rogue attack. He left me at the altar and ran to save her, but it turned out that she had just gotten lost wandering in the woods. The second time, he never showed up because Lyra had threatened to commit suicide. Later I found out he had given her the Luna necklace because her wolf needed protection more than mine. The third time, I went searching for him and found him at her prenatal appointment, his hand on her belly. He didn’t know I was carrying his pup too. Heartbroken, I decided to leave. After I disappeared, he went crazy looking for me.

I spent seven years drafting divorce papers for other people. I never expected that the ninety-ninth agreement would be my own. That night, my husband, Carter, lost a tabletop game during a live stream with his childhood sweetheart, Chloe. The penalty was to give up the thing he treasured most. Chloe smiled at the camera, tapping his wedding ring. "Lend me your marriage for a day." The comment section blew up. Carter looked at me like he was giving orders to an assistant. "Evelyn, you know the drill. "Sign a temporary divorce agreement. I’ll cancel it with you tomorrow morning." Chloe lowered her eyes, her voice trembling. "Forget it. She won't let you. You always choose her over me anyway." I reached into my bag and touched the positive IVF result. Seven years of hormone shots. Four miscarriages. I didn't even have the energy to tell him anymore. As the camera zoomed in on my face, I pushed the papers back across the table. "Carter, this time, I’m putting down a bet, too. “I bet the thing you lose tonight isn't just me.”

Wanting to give my boyfriend, Justin Letterman, a surprise on Valentine's Day, I throw myself at him when he enters the room. I push him against the door and kiss him passionately. It isn't easy to transfer the spiked wine from my mouth into his, but his reaction is cold and indifferent. He says nothing as he pushes me aside to turn on the light. "Don't you want my first time anymore, darling?" I ask bashfully as I grab his hand. His breathing turns heavy in an instant. Smiling, I slip my hand under his shirt, but I'm distracted when I hear the front door creak open. "Babe," Justin coos in a deep and hoarse voice. "Why are you in such a hurry?" my best friend, Natalie Quinn, asks coyly. The wanton noises of kissing and moaning echo into the room. Before I can snap back to my senses, I'm yanked into a closet. Am I the one getting caught, or am I the one doing the catching?

Cancer was killing me, and my husband worked through every night building a human cryonics program to save my life. Before they put me under, he held the baby I had nearly died giving birth to, and said through tears: "Lina Virga, our son and I will wait together for the day you can wake up. Seven years from now, a drug that can treat my illness exist, and the hospital brings me back. When the nurse asked me to settle the bill, I stared at her blankly and asked her to call my husband for me. "Contact Vito Ranieri of the Lucchese family. Tell him his wife is awake." But the nurse laughed under her breath. "Please, don't joke. Mr. Ranieri and Miss Bellini have a son who's seven years old. Everyone in Sicily knows they’re a devoted couple. "I'll have the neurologist come by and evaluate you shortly." I assumed she was teasing me. I didn't give it another thought. Then Nora Bellini arrived, hired as a photographer to document me, the medical miracle. Vito's interview was playing on the television, and I said it with pride. "That's my husband. The best researcher there is." Nora's brows lifted in surprise, and the corners of her mouth dipped. "As far as I'm aware, Vito has exactly one wife. Me. "So how is it I've never heard about anyone else?"

Everyone says that the Crown Prince of the Kingdom of Landor, Prince Colin Livingston, loves me to the core. But on the day of court presentation, he bypasses me and presents the princess consort's diamond ring to my elder sister, Monique Payne, instead. However, I'm not the least bit upset. I even smile and congratulate Colin, saying, "I wish you and my sister a lifetime of happiness, Your Royal Highness." In my past life, I caught Colin rolling in the sheets with Monique when I was six months pregnant. I flew into a rage and accidentally killed her with a sword. Colin hated me for the rest of my life after that. When he finally ascended the throne, he posthumously crowned Monique as his Queen and even registered the many children I risked my life bearing for him under her name instead. I was heartbroken, requesting a royal decree to depose me as his wife. However, he tore up the royal edict and imprisoned me inside the palace instead. "You are my wife. And you will never escape me in this lifetime!" Ultimately, while I was still locked up in my room, our enemies ambushed and attacked the palace, setting fire to the place. And despite being struck down by numerous arrows, Colin still used every last ounce of his strength to protect me and save me from harm. Just before his death, he wiped away my tears with bloody hands and whispered into my ear, "Don't cry for me, Merry. I was the one who let you down in this lifetime. "But if there ever is a next life, I hope that you will let me be with Monique instead." I agreed in a trembling voice. But when I open my eyes again, I realize that I have gone back in time to the day the Crown Prince chooses the princess consort. So, I help him fulfill his wish this time.

On the day I was supposed to get engaged to my childhood sweetheart, Noah Pratt, I escaped. As I flew out of the country, I deleted all forms of contact with him. Six years later, I had to return to oversee the moving of my parents’ graves. At the entrance to the cemetery, I bumped right into Noah. He gripped my wrist while gazing at me with red-rimmed eyes. “Why did you run away?” he asked. He had grown very thin. Heavy bags were under his eyes. It was as if haunting dreams had plagued his nights. “Because I didn’t want to marry someone I didn’t love,” I replied. He swayed on his feet as if the rug had been swept from under him. “Is there anything else?” I asked. But he remained silent. I waited patiently before walking past him. I had not lied. Indeed, I had burned out that love for him in the first three years I spent overseas.

To win Samuel Zane’s heart, I lost everything. My family was ruined, and I was forced onto an operating table so he could take my heart and save his adopted sister, Xenia Zane, whose organs were failing. At the critical moment, William Zane disguised himself as a doctor and rescued me. We left the country and started a new life overseas. I used all my points to change my target from Samuel to William. “Host, I need to remind you that if you fail again after changing your target, you will be reincarnated as an animal and never become human again.” I looked at William as he knelt before me with a ring in his hand. I said firmly, “I do.” But when I gave birth to our daughter, I saw two figures standing outside my hospital room. William handed our daughter to Samuel and said, “Samuel, you’re rushing this. We need to wait until her organs are fully developed before we can take them.” Samuel’s expression remained cold. “Thanks to your plan, we were able to grow a healthy, young heart for Xenia. Don’t worry. We can just use an organ maturation agent.” “But…” “William, don’t tell me you’ve fallen for that woman.” “Of course not!” I heard him deny it immediately. “I endured everything for Xenia.” The moment he finished speaking, the system’s robotic voice rang in my mind. “Host, your mission has failed. In one month, you will be reincarnated as an animal.”

Three years ago, I casually created an Instagram alt account and followed my husband. On that account, we talked about everything. The weather. Our day. Work. Whatever was bothering us. We could talk for hours. But on my main account, and even in real life, we barely exchanged ten sentences in an entire year. I always thought it was just our little secret. A private game between husband and wife that neither of us needed to acknowledge out loud. And honestly, I enjoyed it. Then, just before our third wedding anniversary, a new message popped up on my second account. ‘I’m divorcing Joanna Simpson.’ ‘Jess, I want to be with you.’ That was the moment I finally realized the truth. My husband had never known that the woman behind that account... was me.

I used to be notorious among our friends for being clingy. I could call my boyfriend all day long just to check up on him. To teach me a lesson, Bastian Shaw laid down a set of rules. Every time I called him, he'd take a female intern from his company shopping for a piece of furniture. Every time I checked up on him, he'd spend the night with her in our new house. Eventually, I stopped checking up on him altogether. Bastian proudly bragged to his childhood friends, "See? You can't spoil women. Leave them hanging long enough, and they'll learn to behave." On the day of our housewarming party, I stood at the front door, trying to register my fingerprint. The system kept repeating the same message. [Verification failed. Please contact the administrator.] One of Bastian's childhood friends was doubled over laughing beside me. "Hey, future Mrs. Shaw, Bastian made a bet with us. He wanted to see if you'd lose your mind in front of everyone when you found out he'd registered Molly Lane's fingerprint for the new house. "He said if you don't make a scene today, he'll marry you." I stared at the glaring red light on the fingerprint lock and felt nothing at all. "No, thanks. I wish them a long, happy marriage."

After my husband's first love, Sydney Edwards, used me as a walking blood bank, I died in the run-down rental apartment my billionaire husband, Casper Hawthorne, had tossed me into like it was a blessing for me. Today was the third day since I had died. My six-year-old son, Adam, finally realized something was wrong. He had cut his finger while playing with his toys, yet I did not comfort him. He tore open a packet of crackers and raised one to my mouth to feed me, but I did not stop him. He lay in my arms, clutching my clothes and whispering for me. Still, I did not answer. Lost and panicking, he found my phone and called his father, Casper. "Dad, why is Mom still sleeping?" The man sent back a photo of himself having New Year's Eve dinner with Sydney and said in a cold voice, "She's just sleeping, she's not dead. Today is New Year's Eve. I'm busy. Tell that clueless mom of yours that when she's ready to admit she was wrong, she can come and look for me." After the call ended, Adam stood there frozen for a long time. He picked up the last biscuit in the rental apartment from the trash can, broke it in half, and held one piece to my mouth. "Mom, let's eat too."

On my third wedding anniversary with Logan Archer, our housekeeper, Bianca Martinez, calls to tell us that she has to have both her legs amputated after saving Logan's grandmother from being hit by a truck. From that day on, Logan vows to take care of her. When she trembles from the excruciating pain, he shoves his arm into her mouth for her to bite on and stays by her side until she falls asleep. When she pounds her legs and berates herself for being so useless that she can't even go to the bathroom on her own, he rushes home from work, no matter how busy he is, to help her relieve herself. One day, when I tell Logan I'm pregnant, he looks at me wearily. "Get rid of it. Our main priority right now is to take good care of Bianca. We don't have time to raise a child." No matter how desperately I beg him, he still forces me to go to the hospital for an abortion. After lulling Bianca to sleep, he slips into my room and rasps out, "Honey, we owe Bee too much. Once she's all better, I'll definitely give you a child." Little does he know that, in my heart, he already belongs to my past, not my future.

The third time Charles cheated on me, I broke down, grabbed a knife, and pressed it to my chest. "If I die today, the Moon Goddess will punish you. This is what you get for cheating!" That was what frightened him. The blade was silver. If it so much as touched my skin, the wound would never heal. My mother rushed over to wrestle the knife away from me. "Zoe, no matter what happens, don't hurt yourself!" "Leave me alone and let me die. He's out there chasing other women, so I'll die right in front of him!" In the struggle, the knife went straight into my mother's chest. She clutched at it, and blood soaked red through her clothes. She was barely breathing, and still she held on to my shirt. "Zoe, live a good life." After she died, Charles withdrew from everyone. He stayed with me every day, more attentive than he had been when we were dating. Every full moon, he prayed to the Moon Goddess for me. But I screamed like a madwoman every single day. "My mother isn't dead! I can feel that she's still alive!" Charles took me to a therapist, Dr. Merrick, who confirmed I had depression and post-traumatic stress disorder. The most immediate effect was that my wolf disappeared. All my senses dulled. But I never stopped believing she was alive, even though the sharp knife and all that blood kept telling me I had killed her myself. Slowly, I started to believe I really was sick. That changed the day I saw her at a jewelry counter in a department store. But no matter how hard I told myself my mother was dead, it didn't work. I even heard her voice. "Charles, did you get rid of that knife? Don't let Zoe find it, or she'll go after Vivian." "Threw it out ages ago. Zoe will never know it was a retractable prop and not silver at all. You're the one who has to stay hidden, Marlene. You can never show your face in public again." My mother shook her head, smiling. "What you and Vivian have moves me. I'm only doing the right thing." I stood frozen where I was. It was as if a pair of invis

On our anniversary, Gus King overslept again. When he woke up, I was curling my lashes in front of the mirror. He looked apologetic. “I’m still adjusting to the time difference. Please try to understand.” For the past month, he and a junior labmate had been traveling around the world collecting marine samples. I calmly put away my mascara. “It’s fine. I made plans with a friend instead. This makeup is too nice to let go to waste.” He relaxed, though his expression turned a little strange. After all, in the past, I would have thrown a fit and cried at him. Gus hugged me from behind and smiled. “You’re getting so mature, sweetheart. By the way, I saw the new photos you posted. Where did you go?” “Oh, Seaview City,” I said casually. “While you were away in the North Isles.” He froze. I’d spent the whole first year of our relationship begging Gus to take me to Seaview City to see the ocean. He always said he’d take me when he had time. For our second, third, and fourth anniversaries, he kept telling me to be more understanding, then headed off with his junior labmate to their next destination. In the fifth year of our relationship, I suddenly stopped waiting. It turned out that traveling alone was pretty fun too.

I turned a nobody from the streets into a Mafia, and I defied my papa—a man who loved me more than anything—to do it. For five years, I cast aside the honor of being a Principessa, all for the dream of a life with him. I thought the man I loved was on the verge of becoming the next Don of the Moretti family. But then my papa collapsed during his prayers in the church, suffering a massive cardiac arrest in the one place he believed was most sacred, most safe. Robin was by my side day and night, whispering encouragement. "Isabella, you have to be strong. It's the only way your papa can rest in peace." I was planning our wedding, ready to marry the man I thought I could trust with my life, when I overheard him talking to his mistress, Ava. "We finally got rid of the old bastard." "Once I marry Isabella, half the Moretti empire will be ours.." The five years I had willingly dedicated to him had been nothing more than an incubator for his twisted ambition. I wiped my tears and became the Moretti family's princess once more. I swore I would make them pay in blood. So, on the night before my wedding, I picked up my phone and dialed my brother's number. "Brother," I said. "It's time to close the net."

Everyone knew that the crown prince, Mathias Cavendish, was a handsome man with a calm and composed demeanor. He was a dream suitor for every woman of marriageable age in the city. However, no one knew how wild he was with Seraphina Montclair when his body pressed against hers every night and he thrust hard into her in all sorts of positions in bed. On the 1,001st night he met her through the secret passage, Seraphina lay weakly in the messy sheets, feeling sore all over. Mathias looked down at her after being fully satisfied, and she finally worked up the courage to say, "Your Highness will be marrying my older sister at the end of the month…" Her fingers clenched the corner of the covers as she said almost inaudibly, "Would you be willing to give me a place by your side on the same day?" Mathias was wearing his clothes when he suddenly paused. "No." He turned to look at her, his cold yet handsome face lit up under the flickering candlelight. "I promised Cordelia that she would be the only woman by my side. Your presence shall never be known to her." Seraphina turned pale instantly. "What would that make me?"

After eight years of dating my boyfriend, Zachary Corington, I finally can't take it anymore and suggest breaking up. Zachary asks, "You're breaking up with me just because I drove over to find you and called your name?" "Yes," I reply. He curls his lips into a mocking smile. "Go on. What do you want this time?" I shake my head and say, "Nothing. I just want you to stop showing up before me."

Valentine's Day falls on the same day my boyfriend's company goes public. I spend one million dollars reserving an entire hotel, certain that Michael Cosby is finally going to propose. After all, he promised to marry me once he made something of himself. I wait for ages, only to receive a curt message saying he has something to take care of. Feeling crushed, I go on Instagram and unexpectedly come across a post from my best friend, Winona Ashe. "Back in Mr. Cosby's hometown for the wedding. Congratulations, Lylia! After everything you've been through, you're finally getting your happy ending!" The photos show a small-town wedding, with Michael as the groom and his secretary, Lylia Sutton, as the bride. Unable to believe what I'm seeing, I leave a single question mark in the comments, and that exposes everyone else who has been betraying me behind my back. Linda Cruz, the manager who personally got hired at the company, is the first to comment. "Holy shit, Winona. Did you forget to hide this from the golden goose?" The receptionist, who constantly fawned over me as the future Mrs. Cosby, joins in, "Great. Now the spoiled princess is going to throw another fit." Even an intern I've sponsored chimes in, "What if she gets petty and pulls her investment? Wouldn't we be screwed?" Finally, Peter Crane, the deputy CEO I personally mentored, reassures everyone. "Relax. Ms. Jenner only gave us the seed money. The company's already public, so even if she cashes out, it won't make any difference." How ironic. I spent six years helping Michael build himself up from nothing, only for him to betray me, and every person at the company I bankrolled all the way to its IPO betrays me right along with him.