Tragic Love Short Stories & Scumbag Regret Novels

"Luna, the surgery to remove the Alpha’s mark is excruciating. After that, you’ll be treated as a packless Rogue. Are you absolutely sure you want to go through with this?" "Yes. I want to be a Rogue." The black market healer was utterly astonished. The entire werewolf world believed Alpha Ethan was head over heels in love with me. Just days ago, he'd spent a hundred million gold coins to buy me 'Moonlight Manor,' filling it with my favorite moonflowers. Countless she-wolves dreamed of being marked by such a passionate and powerful Alpha. But I didn't hesitate. After removing the mark, I printed out a Mate Bond Severance Agreement and booked a flight to the European pack a week later. Goodbye, Ethan.

After saving money with Justin Pierre for five years, we finally went to view a house. My best friend, Maria Houston, came along too. "The master bedroom needs a walk-in closet. Can we knock down this wall?" she asked Justin while pointing at the floor plan I had been looking at for the past six months. "I'll get a designer to take a look tomorrow. You can change it however you want." The two of them discussed everything, from the direction the apartment faced to the tiles, from the floor-to-ceiling windows to the bathtub. Meanwhile, I stood in the corner, unable to get a word in. When it was time to sign the papers, he seemed to suddenly remember I was here and said, "We'll put this place under Maria's name for now. She's here all by herself, so consider it a company benefit. The company is a little tight on cash lately. You can keep renting for another two years." However, I had also left my hometown behind to build a life with him from nothing five years ago. Back then, we had squeezed into a tiny apartment without even air-conditioning, and he had made me a promise with absolute certainty. "Once the company takes off, the first thing I'll do is give you a home." Now that the company had finally succeeded, the first home he bought was for someone else. I stared at the two signatures side by side on the contract and realized there was no place for my name. Since he had already planned a future that did not include me, I was not going to wait for him anymore. Thinking about it, I opened the page to terminate my lease and confirmed it.

Five years after their breakup, Lauren Scott signed a master-servant contract with Yale Sutton, the ex-boyfriend who had been penniless when they were together. Yale would pay off her debts, and in return, Lauren had to fulfill his every demand. "Lauren, take off one piece of clothing, and I'll knock a million off your debt." Yale spoke slowly, his voice dripping with mockery. Around the private room, the men hooted and cheered while the women laughed and made teasing remarks. Lauren gritted her teeth. "Fine. Just don't go back on your word, Mr. Sutton." Without a moment's hesitation, she unbuttoned her blouse and let it fall to the floor, baring her porcelain-white skin and most of her full, rounded breasts. The room fell silent for a moment before whistles erupted from every direction.

In Kieran Chase's eyes, I was not his wife. I was a non-performing asset waiting to be liquidated. When I got sick and asked for help, he became impatient. He said, "This is a minor problem. You can handle it on your own. No need to tell anyone." When I broke down in tears, he reprimanded me. "Losing emotional control shows weakness. It exposes the fragility of our alliance. I'll have the PR team teach you emotional management." Even when I called for help after a car accident, he hung up. "Nothing about you is important enough to interrupt a transaction worth hundreds of millions." I spent seven days in the ICU fighting for my life. On my first day home, I found Kieran leaning over another woman, his voice suddenly soft and coaxing as he convinced her to take her medicine. He opened his mouth to explain. I smiled bitterly and handed him the papers I'd prepared long ago. My tone mirrored his perfectly. "Mr. Chase, regarding our marriage project, the return on investment is unacceptably low after comprehensive evaluation. I'm formally proposing we terminate our cooperation. "Here's the divorce agreement. Sign it."

I had been dating my boyfriend, Julian Hayes, for four years, yet my best friend Fiona Blake still looked more like his girlfriend than I did. Whenever the three of us went furniture shopping, the sales associate would hand Julian and Fiona a catalog for couples. Whenever we went out for fondue, the server would ask if Julian and Fiona wanted a photo together. At the beach, a stranger once handed me her phone and asked, "Would you mind taking a picture of your friend and his girlfriend?" I smiled, took her phone, and raised it to take the picture. On the screen, Julian and Fiona looked every bit like a couple. Fiona always brushed it off. "We just have similar face shapes. It's a coincidence." Julian always reassured me. "It doesn't matter what anyone else thinks. You're my only girlfriend." And year after year, I believed him. By our fourth year together, I started pushing him to finally set a wedding date. He said he was too busy and promised we'd set the date the following month. But when the next month came, he had another excuse. Fiona's visa was about to expire. She wanted to stay in the United States, and the easiest way to get a green card was through marriage. I stared at him. "And so?" He was silent for a long moment before finally answering. "I'll marry her first and sponsor her application. It's only a formality. Once she gets her green card, we'll get divorced." For a moment, I couldn't believe what I was hearing. "And what about me?" He answered without hesitation. "Just give me a few years. It'll be over before you know it." A week later, Fiona posted a photo on Instagram. She held up their marriage certificate and leaned against Julian's shoulder, smiling so widely that her eyes crinkled. The caption read, "As of today, it isn't a coincidence. It's fate." I went back through years of messages. That was when I finally realized the truth. Julian had never once told anyone I was his girlfriend. Whenever strangers mistook Fiona for his girlfrien

My family is human. We were gifted a long life by the Thorne clan, something close to immortality. For generations, we’ve been their most loyal guardians. And I fell in love with Cedric, the vampire lord I was sworn to protect. For a hundred years, I was his secret. His sin. His only bedmate. I was his shield against dark magic. The sworn protector of his vast clan. I thought I’d earn the mark of an eternal bond. I was even ready for him to turn me. After all, on every blood moon, he would claim my body. Then, at the peak of an agonizing pleasure, he’d sink his fangs into my neck and drink my blood. He’d press his cold lips to my skin and whisper that I was his one and only. That no other blood, no other body, could make him lose control like this. But this time, the moment he was finished with me, he announced his eternal bond with Elsie, the pureblood princess of the Valerius clan. He smirked at the shock on my face. "You're just a human, gifted a long life by my ancestors. My bed warmer. You didn't actually think you could be my mate, did you?" In that moment, I understood. I was just a renewable blood bag. A tool with a purpose. For an alliance, for her, he sacrificed me. He cast me into the abyss and let the darkness swallow me whole. He thought the Guardian's Pact would chain me to him for eternity. But he forgot one thing. Every pact has a loophole. So I destroyed everything he ever gave me. Then, with my family's help, I vanished. But when the Lord of Eternal Night couldn't find his favorite toy… he went mad.

Neville had set up a special wish jar just for me. Every month, I was allowed only three draws to claim his time and attention as my husband. If I drew Dinner, he'd grace me with his presence for a brief meal, as though he were doing me some enormous favor. If I drew a blank, I wasn't even allowed to see his face. I used to tell myself that this was simply his cold, overly analytical, STEM-brained way of expressing love. That was, until Thanksgiving night, when our three-year-old daughter suffered a sudden, severe asthma attack. It left her gasping for air, her lips turning purple. I grabbed Neville by the sleeve and begged him to let me use all my remaining draws if he'd just drive us to the ER. He frowned and violently shook off my hand. "Rules are rules. Stop using our kid to guilt-trip me." Terrified and desperate, I reached into the jar for my final slip. It read: "Don't disturb each other today." Relief washed visibly over his face. Without even glancing at our daughter, he grabbed his car keys and walked out. When our daughter's condition had stabilized, I stood alone at the hospital billing desk with her in my arms. That was when I spotted Neville in a VIP treatment suite in the ER. He was gently pressing an ice pack against his assistant's knee, which had barely a scrape on it. The girl blushed and cooed, "Mr. Murphy, I didn't even have to draw a slip. Why would you take time off work just to stay with me?" Neville's expression softened with a rare tenderness. "The wish jar is meant to keep ordinary people in line. You have unrestricted VIP access." I held our trembling daughter and struggled to keep my tears from falling. It turned out that only the unloved had to leave their happiness to chance. I turned around, tossed the wish jar straight into the trash, and called my lawyer to draw up a divorce agreement.

The night the hurricane made landfall, the emergency alert had barely stopped sounding when my sister-in-law, Brielle Rourke, called again. I listened to her helpless sobbing, then calmly handed the phone to my husband, Caleb Rourke, who was busy boarding up the balcony doors. Whatever she said, he kept agreeing to it. He pulled on a rain jacket and gave me that practiced, guilty look. "Her window's broken, Lena. She's all alone over there. I'll patch it up and I'll be back before the worst of it hits, I promise." Once again, it wasn't a discussion. It was an announcement. Five years of marriage, and every storm had gone exactly the same way. The moment the thunder started, her call came right on schedule. I used to fight about it, but he always said, "My brother died young. Brielle's raising his son by herself. We help when we can." "You're a grown woman, and a strong one. You can look after yourself and our son, right?" The wind split the glass, and the shards opened my calf to the bone. I reached for the baby sweater I'd never finished knitting. Tonight, Caleb, I don't think your son or I need you anymore.

Two years after breaking up with Evan Grey, my lung cancer finally reached its final stage. At the end of my life, I dragged my aching body to Lake Manco, where we promised we'd come together on the 999th day of our love. In the end, I was the only one who went. As the doctor's calls came in endlessly, no doubt urging me to return to chemotherapy, I silenced my phone and buried the pendant Evan gave me by the lake. "Evan, maybe this is the last time I'll think of you…" As soon as the words left my mouth, a drop of blood from my nose fell into the sand. Then, from behind me, I heard the voice I'd missed every day for the past three years, "Miss, could you please take a photo of me and my girlfriend?"

Married three years. Stood up three years. Today was the last time I bothered showing up. Surprise—he bailed again. Still clinging to hope like a total idiot, I called. One last shot. "A-Aurora, I'm busy. Just wait," he muttered. And then her voice cut in. All breathy and smug: "That old woman can't satisfy you, huh? Paolo, be gentle." Click. Right on cue, Marco Medici—loyal, patient, saint-like Marco—sent his 99th proposal. This time, I didn't leave him hanging. [Want to come over for bollito misto?]

I was doing the laundry when another pair of lace panties slipped out of my husband's pants pocket. Before I could say a word, he raised an eyebrow and handed me a plastic vase. "Go on. Smash it." He acted as though it were perfectly natural. It was the same routine every time I caught him cheating over the past seven years. I looked around, and only then did I realize what he'd done. He'd replaced every breakable thing in our home with something made of plastic or stainless steel. He was used to my hysterical outbursts by now. He thought our marriage was just like all that plastic. No matter how hard I tried, I could never break it. But this time, I calmly put the vase back where it belonged. "Let's get a divorce."

Before graduation, my boyfriend, Landon Freeman, my two childhood friends, Clyde Medina and Mason Rivera, my best friend, Willow Castillo, and I set out on one last road trip through the Northwest. We plan to complete the entire loop together. However, on the third day, one of our vehicles breaks down, leaving us with a four-seater. Without the slightest hesitation, Landon hands me a ticket for a six-hour bus ride. "You don't get carsick, so bear with it for a while. We'll wait for you at the next stop." Willow offers to take my place, but Clyde and Mason immediately stop her. "You just threw up yesterday. Why are you trying to be a hero?" Landon chuckles as he helps unload my luggage. "She's tough as nails, and she has never been one to hold a grudge." As usual, I agree. Yet, six hours later, I arrive at the small town we'd agreed to meet in, only to find out that they'd changed course at the last minute and gone to another city. In the group chat, the four of them are gathered around Willow, having a barbecue and beaming. Not a single one of them remembers to tell me. All of a sudden, I see the pattern I've been blind to all these years. Whenever Willow feels cold, three jackets are waiting for her. Whenever she's tired, everyone stops. Yet, the more sensible I am, the more they expect me to be the one who makes sacrifices. This time, I don't want to chase after them anymore. I buy a ticket back home and reach out to the out-of-town company that I turned down two weeks ago. "Hello. I'd like to accept the offer." I don't want this group of people who've been by my side for more than a decade anymore.

When my family went bankrupt, I was drugged and sent to the bed of my childhood sweetheart, Craig Kennedy. From that night, he brought women home every evening, tossing a divorce agreement in my face. "Beg me, and I won't leave you." He stood above me, watching as I humbled myself to dust, pleading to preserve our marriage. He even ordered me to kneel in his office and massage the feet of his secretary, Lucia Langston. On the day the Moore Group needed ten million to survive, she blocked all my desperate calls for help. I waited 24 hours, watching my family's legacy collapse and my parents take their lives. Craig, with Lucia at his side, entered the house and threw the signed divorce agreement at me again. "You wanted money to save your family, didn't you? Beg me, and as long as I don't divorce you, no one will touch them." But I signed it with calm despair. "Don't bother. We no longer need your help."

The day before the Imperial Academy trial, my online boyfriend told me his friend had drawn me as his partner. Before I could even process what he meant, he dragged me into a group chat. "Congratulations, Liam! You drew yourself a 200-pound partner!" Right after that, someone posted a photo of me from three years ago for everyone to see. In it, I wore an XL ceremonial robe, my face so chubby my ears practically disappeared. The chat instantly exploded with laughter. "God, that's not a werewolf. That's a porcupine on two legs." "A bet's a bet, Liam. You drew her yourself!" "Who says his partner is useless? She could sit on the prey and crush it to death! Hahaha!" Before long, someone started a betting pool. They were betting on whether I'd dare show up for the trial the next day. My online boyfriend bet 10,000 gold coins that I wouldn't. "Don't blame me, guys. You drew her yourself!" Liam, the werewolf who had drawn me, didn't say a word. Then Claire, the girl everyone in the chat had crowned the prettiest girl at the academy, suddenly tagged me. "Sweetie, don't listen to them. You'll still come tomorrow, won't you?" I watched the insults fly across the screen and laughed. None of them knew I'd lost 100 pounds for this trial, dropping from 200 pounds to 100. For the past two months, I couldn't leave the house without some werewolf hitting on me. Without saying a word, I placed my own bet. 30,000 gold coins that I'd show up on time.

All of New York knew that Caspian Solis, the Don of the Solis family, worshipped the ground I walked on. Then an ambush left him with amnesia. Not only did he forget me and our twenty years together, but he also mistook his secretary, Ivy, for the love of his life. He tossed our matching bracelets and stared at me with dead eyes. "You are not my type. Ivy is the woman I love." My heart shattered. I tried everything to help him remember. Until I overheard a conversation between him and his right-hand man: "Don, how long are you going to keep this up? What if your wife finds out you are faking the amnesia?" Caspian exhaled a cloud of cigar smoke, completely unbothered. "She won't." "I just want to have some fun while I am young. Eating the same meal every day gets stale, doesn't it?" "When I have had my fill, I will tell her my memory came back. After all, Lorelai is the one I truly love." Standing outside the door, I felt violently sick. A thought sparked in my mind: If Caspian could fake amnesia to play me, why couldn't I? So, I accidentally fell down a flight of stairs. When I woke up, I locked eyes with Caspian's ally and biggest rival—Zane, the most feared Don in New York. I smiled and threw myself into his arms. "There you are, darling."

As the roller coaster reaches the top, I open my eyes just enough to reach for my boyfriend's hand. But Ethan Calloway already has his fingers intertwined with my best friend, Tessa Morgan. He gently rubs his thumb over the back of her hand, trying to comfort her. "Ethan, I'm scared," I whisper. He doesn't answer. He just holds Tessa's hand a little tighter. Ethan is hard of hearing in his left ear. But whenever the three of us go out, he always makes sure Tessa is on his right. Leaning in to hear her, he never let a word of hers go unanswered. I'm always the one stuck on his left, feeling like we're worlds apart. As the roller coaster plunges, I close my eyes, my heart dropping with it. Ethan's heart belongs to someone else now. It's time I take mine back and find someone who'll love me the way I deserve.

Remi Sloan had been married to the top scion of the elite circle for five years. To outsiders, their marriage looked like a fairy tale. Everyone said he adored her—that he would even give his life for her if she asked. However, because she could not get pregnant, a few hints from her in-laws became outright demands. The man who had held her hands and promised to protect her for the rest of her life on their wedding day cried in front of her. “Be good… I can’t hold on anymore.” So this was how short a man’s promise could be, because less than two months later, she saw him supporting a pregnant woman in the hospital's obstetrics department, his movements gentle.

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

At the wedding, just as we were right in the middle of exchanging rings, my fiancé, Ethan Nash, stepped away from the altar. “I just need to take care of something. I’ll be right back.” Before I could say anything, he had already hurried away. Everyone watched as he walked straight to his childhood friend, Ruth Trew, opened her water bottle for her, and then rushed back. “No harm done, right? It only took ten seconds.” I stood there frozen. I had actually believed something was wrong. My heart had been in my throat. Perhaps, to him, Ruth came before everything. It was just like the ten minutes everyone had to wait so she could be in the photo, or the two hours I had to wait while he took a detour to pick her up from work. I did not know how many more moments like that were ahead of me, be it a dozen seconds or ten minutes, ten hours, ten days, or even ten years. The officiant, Marcus Oakley, looked grim. He tried to lighten the mood, but nothing he did could save it. “Well, the groom has left the altar for a moment. Umm...” I took the microphone from him. All it took was ten seconds. At that moment, I was done. I did not want to get married any longer.

I was born wolf-less. At the academy, Arabella made my life hell for it. By the time I graduated, my wolf finally awakened, gifting me powerful healing abilities. I thought the nightmare was finally over. I met my fated mate Alpha Tristan. He was powerful, gorgeous, and promised me the world. But the day I went to tell Tristan I was pregnant was the day I discovered his devastating lie. It was never Tristan in my bed. It was his twin brother, Ronan. The rogue Alpha who’d abandoned the pack years ago to slum it with humans. He used a scent-mimicker to crawl into my bed, to get me pregnant. It was all a twisted plot to humiliate me on my big day. They wanted revenge for Arabella, who lied and claimed I was the bully. They wanted to crush me. I stormed into the study to confront them. I told them I’d expose everything and demand an apology. Instead, they imprisoned me. They performed a dark ritual, siphoning my wolf into Arabella. They drained my life force and murdered my unborn pup. I died in agony. Then I opened my eyes. I was back on the day I found out I was pregnant. I clutched my belly, a single tear tracing a path down my cheek. Those bastards were going to burn for what they did.