Tragic Love 단편 소설 & Scumbag Regret 소설

Tamara Winslow stands amid the crowd while clutching two different documents in her hand. One of them shows a diagnosis report on her alexithymia, while the other showcases a divorce agreement. Three hours ago, she had specifically visited the Clerk's Office because the hospital's system had shown her marital status as "divorced". The city clerk looks up at her. "Ma'am, it's true that you and Mr. Braxton Merrick got divorced three years ago." Tamara's expression freezes on her face. "How could that be? We got married three years ago!" The city clerk checks the details once again. This time, he adapts a rather awkward tone. "The results are correct. It's true that you got divorced three years ago. In fact, it took place… on the seventh second right after you got married…"

My fiance, Adrian Hale, and I had planned to go snorkeling on Valentine's Day. The day we landed in the south of France, I discovered that his first love, Vivian Clarke, had come with us. They insisted on heading into unpatrolled waters. "But those waters are dangerous, shrouded in strange rumors..." Adrian frowned at me. "Sophie, do you have to ruin the mood right now?" Vivian smiled and hooked her arm through his. "With you here, nothing is going to happen to us." Once we were in the water, Vivian recklessly swam toward the deeper channel. A swell shoved half her body into a narrow opening. I swam over to pull her free, but she thrashed and drove her heel hard into my knee. Her elbow knocked my mask crooked. Before I could straighten it, Vivian kicked me into the opening. Adrian came up behind us, grabbed Vivian, and held her hand tight. The voices over my underwater headset were muffled, but I still heard Adrian's cold warning clearly. "Vivi doesn't know these waters. You do, don't you? "You led her into deeper water on purpose. Who exactly were you trying to hurt? "Figure your own way out. Consider it the lesson you've earned!" Briny seawater flooded my throat. My aching legs kicked uselessly. My body was wedged fast in the opening. I closed my eyes in despair. My last thought was this: if I died, they deserved to pay with their lives.

Three years into our secret marriage, the shoe rack at home still held only three pairs of slippers. Kevin Russell's, his student's, and his friend's. The only pair missing was mine. When he handed me a new pair of disposable slippers, my voice was so flat it gave nothing away. "Where are the fleece slippers I bought?" He didn't even glance at me. "I threw them out before they came over." "Oh," I said. Swallowing the sourness in my chest, I asked as if it were an afterthought, "Did Monica come this time too?" "No." He was lying. Monica Lawrence had just sent me a message to gloat. Monica: [Honestly, you're kind of pathetic. Every time we come over, you have to pretend to be the cleaning lady and carry the trash downstairs.] Monica: [Have you ever thought that maybe it's not that he can't go public? Maybe he just doesn't want to.] I switched off my phone screen and went to the bathroom. The mirror over the sink was covered in dense handprints, like some kind of declaration of war. When I walked past Kevin, I didn't ask him why he'd lied to me. Or why the contact pinned to the top of his phone was a little m, and not me. I watched a game with him and gazed at the moon for a while. Then, with a smile, I pushed the slippers I'd found hidden in the safe across to him. "If you treasure her this much, stop hiding her away like some dirty little secret."

Seven years with Luke Bates, and he still can't remember that I have a seafood allergy. Yet he treats that faded lucky charm locket in his car like a sacred treasure. Inside lies a note that says, "May God bless that specific someone with top marks. If it works, I'll go vegan for three months." Luke calls it a prank by his high school buddy and tells me not to get jealous over nothing right before we register our marriage. I believe him, happily pouring my heart into planning our wedding. Then comes today. I accompany him back to his hometown for a banquet, only for a woman in a floral dress to burst through the door with tears pooling in her eyes. The elders pulled her over, their faces full of concern. "Phoebe, you must be exhausted from that pilgrimage. Come, sit next to Luke." A few drinks in, someone speaks, slurring their words. "Remember when Phoebe casually mentioned praying for a favor? Luke went vegan with her and ended up with a stomach ulcer." I take a quiet sip of juice, listening in silence. It turns out the charm locket that has hung in his car for seven years wasn't for a buddy at all. It's for his first love.

I waited eight years. The day I was supposed to become Luna, my fated mate, Alpha Cayden, rejected me in front of the entire pack. Because I was barren. He severed our mate bond and kissed my omega assistant, Lilith. Turns out, they had already mated. The bitch was pregnant with his child. Rage consumed me. I was ready to leave it all behind, but his mother threw me in a silver cell. He planned to strip me of my wolf and my gift—and give my powers to his new Luna, Lilith. Broken, I fled, only to be attacked by rogues and left for dead in a pool of my own blood. When I woke again, I was in a strange place. My memory was wiped clean. Alpha Rhys of the Shadowcrest Pack was by my side, promising to take care of me. And me, the barren wolf, I was pregnant… But I can no longer remember who the child's father was.

For generations, every she-wolf born into the Frostmoon Pack has been an Omega. We aren't fighters, but our bloodline can stabilize an Alpha's power and produce exceptionally strong heirs. When I came of age, our pack's centuries-old tradition dictated that I should bond with Lucas Grant, the Alpha of the Blackstone Pack. My parents had always put pack law above everything else. Yet for the first time, they urged me to defy tradition and refuse. But I was already in love with Lucas. I ignored their warnings and bonded with him anyway. On our tenth bonding anniversary, I came home to find another she-wolf in our bedroom. She lay in our bed, carrying the unmistakable scent of a pregnant she-wolf. The same scent I carried. But Lucas forcibly shut down the link between us and shielded her. "Evelyn, I'm sorry. Vivian just found out she's carrying my pup. Her wolf is restless, and she needs my scent to calm down. Sleep in another room tonight. If you're upset, I can apologize." Even his apology sounded polite, as though he were simply telling me about a change in sleeping arrangements. He probably expected me to cry and cause a scene like I used to, demanding to know why he kept bringing other she-wolves home. But this time, I said nothing. I was already exhausted. What Lucas didn't know was that a mate bond without true love would eventually disappear. Ten years was the limit. At last, I was free to leave him.

On the day the Cole family went bankrupt, Adrian Cole left behind a suicide note and went alone to the snow mountains to end his life. I chased after him without hesitation, searching for him in the snow for a full ten hours. Just as despair hollowed me out completely, I saw his secretary, Zoe Bennett, livestreaming Adrian's proposal on social media. One of his friends joked in the comments, "You're about to be a groom. Aren't you afraid your woman will get mad?" His reply was icy cold. "I only promised her the title of Mrs. Cole. She shouldn't even think about anything else." Another comment followed. "She's marrying in with ten billion in investment. Is she really willing to swallow that kind of grievance?" I could almost see Adrian sneering as he typed, "She got ten billion for the position of Mrs. Cole. She's not losing out. If it weren't for her, Zoe wouldn't have been forced to go abroad. These last few days are my compensation to Zoe." My fingernails dug deep into my flesh. Calmly, I burned everything that had anything to do with him. On the day of the wedding, he went mad searching for me everywhere. In the upscale venue across the street, I had just slipped on a diamond ring given to me by another man, Julian Cross. Unbeknownst to him, while he was calculating the countdown to our breakup, I was also preparing to marry someone else.

My name is Nina Brown. I've been married to Julian Hayes for seven years, ever since I left Sorrin for Capin. We can never eat the same meal. I love spicy food, but the second he smells spice, he slams his fork down. I made a spicy fish stew at home once. He smashed his plate and fork and gave me the cold shoulder for a month. After that, I quit making spicy food and learn to live on thin soup and bland food. Every day, for seven years, until my birthday. That day, I finish buying groceries and head home. Suddenly, the smell from a spicy stew shop stops me in my tracks. That is when I see Julian sitting beside a young woman. A pot of bright red chili stew sits in front of them. He's sweating from the heat, swallowing the food she feeds him like he's done it a hundred times. His lips are already swollen, but he still looks like he's enjoying it. I stand outside the glass window and breathe in the chili in the air. For the first time, it makes my stomach turn. It's not that he can't handle spicy food. He just won't eat it for me.

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.

After Silas Sterling and I began our long-distance relationship, he sent me a blind box every month. Each one was his way of replacing the companionship he could not give me, helping us get through the long years apart. Two years ago, Silas made me a promise. "Once I take over my family's company, I'll bring you home. I'll make sure you can stand proudly by my side." For that single promise, I waited in a city more than 1,200 miles away through hundreds of lonely days and nights. Then, inside the 773rd blind box I opened, I found a first-class plane ticket to Sutherland. On the flight, I could barely contain my excitement. My obvious happiness made the young woman beside me smile. She cheerfully showed me a photo of herself with her fiance, her face glowing with joy. "We're getting married in three days." The moment I saw the wedding photo on her screen, my fingers froze on the boarding pass I had been absentmindedly stroking. The groom-to-be in that picture was the very man I had traveled more than a thousand miles to see.

Jameson University's biggest scandal this year was the leaked video of Joy Quinn losing her virginity in the campus group chat. The video was taken in the presidential suite of a five-star hotel. Completely naked, Joy Quinn was pinned against the floor-to-ceiling window by a man a head taller than her. The rhythmic sounds never ceased...

Every Thanksgiving, my husband, Salvatore, brings home a showgirl from one of his clubs. He makes me kneel and serve them drinks. A lesson, he calls it, in how to please a man. This was the eighth Thanksgiving, and this time, he brought back a girl poured into a tight leather dress. "She doesn't have any decent jewelry," Salvatore announced. "Give her your heirloom diamond ring. Your grandmother's pearl earrings, too. And take off that silk choker for her." He smirked. "And listen, she's young, doesn't know the rules. You'll have to show her the ropes. Especially how to handle a man in bed." Every member of the Genovese family was watching, waiting for my humiliation. I didn't disappoint. I opened my mouth and asked Salvatore for a divorce. Salvatore let out a sharp, ugly laugh, his eyes full of contempt. "Francesca, you pull this same shit every time," he jeered. "Your act is pathetic. Even more dramatic than your performance in bed." He leaned in. "You really want to divorce me? Fine. I'll give you five million in cash if you actually walk out that door." The living room erupted in laughter. They all said I was playing hard to get, that I didn't know my place. But they didn't know. This was the 88th time I had asked for a divorce, and it was the first time I truly meant it.

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.

My daughter, Ruby Pratt, has leukemia. She needs a bone marrow transplant—and fast. Out of everyone in the family, my husband, Dan Pratt, was the only match. I begged him for an entire month before he finally agreed to go through with the donation. But on the morning of the surgery, he went completely off the grid. I stood outside the hospital all day, waiting. No calls. No texts. Not even a shadow. That night, his childhood friend, Valerie Kinder, posted on Instagram. In the photo, Dan was holding Valerie's hand with one arm and carrying her young son with the other—on a beach in Lulabo City. The caption read: [Soaking up the sun! Dan cleared his whole schedule to join us on a month-long trek and we finally made it to the coast! My little boy said Uncle Dan made his ocean dream come true. Pure joy!] My heart splintered. While I was drowning in worry over my daughter, he was off playing happy family with them. I wiped my tears and typed a comment beneath her post: [Not 'Uncle.' From now on, he's your son's father.] That night, I finally got a call from him. "Babe, don't be like this," Dan said. "You're not being fair. "Valerie's son has been bullied at school for not having a dad. I couldn't stand seeing him hurt, so I took them on this trip. It was supposed to help him heal. "I'll catch the first flight back tomorrow and head straight to the hospital to donate the marrow. I promise." I hung up with a bitter smile. The next morning, Dan rushed into the hospital room. But all he found on the bed was a death certificate.

My boyfriend, Simon Hepworth, gets down on one knee for the 66th time. Moved by his persistence, I finally say yes. But on the eve of our wedding, he drops a bombshell on me. He tells me he wants to have a child with his stepsister, Fiona Hepworth. I find it ridiculous and get into a huge fight with him. But I never could've imagined what would come next. On our wedding day, I wait at the altar for three hours, bouquet in my hands, only for him to dismissively tell me that the wedding is postponed. All because he and Fiona have an IVF appointment that very day. "Fiona was abused by her father growing up. She'll never be able to marry," he explains. "I just want to help her fulfill her dream of being a mother. It's just IVF. It's not like we're actually sleeping together. Stop being so sensitive." He then hangs up, leaving me alone at the wedding under the gaze of countless guests and flashing media cameras. The shock sends my father into the ICU. Standing by his bedside, I make a vow. "Dad, you were right. I won't marry Simon. Next week, I'll come home and take over the family business."

I have been hopelessly in love with Don Lorenzo Greco since the first time I saw him ten years ago. As the only daughter of the long-established Messina mafia family, I have set aside my pride and chased after him for a decade. On my 25th birthday, the way Lorenzo looks at me finally changed. He's not seeing a child anymore. He's looking at a woman. Lorenzo says yes to me, and I finally kiss the mouth I've been dreaming of all this while. The next day, Lorenzo announces to the world that he will hold the wedding of the century. 9,999 roses, fireworks all night, and a spectacle so grand it will shock every family in Northern Darvent. I stand there with tears in my eyes as the fireworks spell out another woman's name. Elena Lagioia. The assistant who has always been at Lorenzo's side, the girl I have never once taken seriously. I plan to confront Lorenzo with a gun in my hand. However, I stop outside the door when I hear him speaking to his consigliere. "Elena's parents are gambling addicts and owe a large debt. If I don't marry her, she'll be sold to a brothel in Malicuria tomorrow. Let's keep Cinzia in the dark for now. After this is over, I'll divorce Elena and marry Cinzia. After all, she loves me so dearly." On Lorenzo's wedding day, I'm wearing a wedding dress and resting in the arms of a far more powerful Don of the Argento family from Southern Darvent. I look at Lorenzo and smile. It drives him crazy. He swears to do whatever it takes to win me back.

The night before the wedding, I'm about to share the news of my pregnancy with Chester Miller when I see Giselle Thorne sitting in his lap intimately. I'm about to storm in and confront them when I notice a man standing beside them. That man looks exactly like Chester, my boyfriend. I freeze, holding my breath as their voices carry clearly through the room. "Chester, this is ruthless. You actually proposed to her. From what I know, Miranda poured so much effort into this wedding," Giselle says. Chester snorts. "Giselle, she ruins your work and costs you the chance to win. I can't wait to see her, all dressed in her wedding gown and beaming with joy, only to watch me walk down the aisle holding your hand. Just thinking about it gives me a thrill." My eyes widen. It's clearly Giselle who has threatened me to hand over my work, and when she fails, she tears up her own painting in fear of losing the competition. Before I can react, the man who looks like Chester suddenly speaks. "Chester, who's walking down the aisle with her—you or me?" Chester chuckles. "Of course I am. Felix, have you forgotten? Miranda belongs to you only at night." In that instant, I finally understand why Chester Miller is cold by day and passionate by night. It turns out they aren't the same person at all. He and Felix are twin brothers. I clutch the pregnancy report tightly, pressing it against the doorframe as I glare at the three of them through the crack. "I won't let any of you get what you want," I vow silently.

Coming home from a late shift on a winter night, my fingers were stiff with cold. The first thing I did was head for the bathroom. Ethan stopped me, a bowl of late-night leftovers in his hand. “What took you so long? Rena’s in the bath. Just wait a bit.” I glanced at the clock. It was already eleven thirty. “I have to be up at six. Could you ask her to finish earlier next time?” He frowned. “It’s just a bath. Do you really have to make an issue of it?” When we’d been apartment hunting, I suggested getting a place with two bathrooms. Ethan insisted on this one because it was close to his and Serena’s office. Their commute was ten minutes. Mine meant three transfers and nearly four hours round trip. Back then he’d said, “I’ll drive you to and from work. You won’t have to cram onto the subway.” Six months later, not once. The bathroom door opened and Serena walked out in my bathrobe. “Sorry, Quinn, I didn’t know you’d still need to shower this late. If I’d known, I wouldn’t have soaked so long.” Ethan immediately grabbed a blanket and wrapped it around her, then bent down to towel off her wet hair. “Don’t worry about it. You don’t owe her an apology. She’s just tired from work. On edge.” A sudden wave of weariness washed over me. I set down the towel I’d been drying my hands with and slipped off my engagement ring. “Right. On edge.” “So this place is all yours.”

My husband claimed my pregnant belly disgusted him. So on New Year's Eve, he left me behind and took his secretary out instead. When I finally breached his private suite, she was moaning from his lap and reeking of my wedding perfume. At seven months pregnant, the shock and fury ruptured my amniotic sac. But the secretary told him I had simply lost control of my bladder to cause a scene. Believing I was just being overly emotional, my husband locked me in the closet. For the next few hours, he rang in the new year with his secretary before finally ending my punishment. Unfortunately, when he finally opened our nursery door, his face turned pale at the sight of her tiny white urn.

My husband is a rock climbing route setter. It's our wedding anniversary today, but he brings his female best friend with him on an adventure to discover uncharted territory. It comes about because his female best friend says life is so boring. We're trapped in the mountains when we encounter extreme weather, and the rescue helicopter can only take two people with them. They climb up the ladder deftly, leaving me to slowly grow colder in the rain. I shout his name with all my strength. "I have a heart condition! I'll die if I don't get to the hospital soon!" He throws a rope down at me without even sparing me a glance. "Luna has menstrual cramps—she never says she's in pain. You, on the other hand, are only good at acting. Think of a way to get down yourself." What he doesn't know is that his "good friend" has already sliced the rope he threw to me.