Scumbag Tragic Love Short Stories & Novels

When I was 14, my father beat me so badly that my ears rang. It was my sister and Micheal Lane who stood in front of me with knives in hand, protecting me. When I was 18, they had fought their way into the court, determined to put our father behind bars and take me away from him. When I was 21, on my wedding day to Micheal, my sister forced him to kneel before me and said, “You will never betray Chloe. If you do, I’ll make sure you leave with nothing, and I’ll kill you myself.” In our eight years of marriage, he truly was the perfect husband. He did not have late-night business dinners, he was never home late, and his phone password was my birthday. Even our son, Tristan, said his dad loved me the most in the world. However, on Tristan’s seventh birthday, he made a wish with his eyes closed, “I hope Daddy stops going to his other home. Daddy sneaks out every night after Mommy falls asleep. I don’t want to lie anymore.” I thought he was joking, so I crouched down and asked, “Who lives at your daddy's other home?” Tristan hid behind me and pointed into the distance. I followed his gaze. The cake knife slipped from my hand and clattered to the floor. Standing there was the woman I loved most in the world—my sister. Yet beneath the table, I could clearly see her hand intertwined tightly with Micheal’s.

On the day of the Red Alert storm, the underground parking garage flooded over three feet deep. I was trapped right under a ventilation duct, holding my daughter, Daisy, as she suffered a severe asthma attack. When my husband, Theo, drove a rescue boat into the garage, I burst into tears and begged him to save our child first. Instead, he pulled up right next to his first love, Sophia, and leaned down to grab her wet shoe. “Her health is fragile. If her shoes stay soaked, she’ll catch a fever.” I begged him to just take one look at Daisy, her lips already turning blue from lack of oxygen. However, Theo just sneered. “Let her catch some fresh air to clear her head. Tell her not to act all dramatic like you.” Sophia climbed into the boat, wiped her feet with a dry towel, and gave me a gentle smile. “Charlotte, Daisy will be fine.” As the water rose to my chest, I had no choice but to haul myself up the ventilation pipe with Daisy in my arms. Right there against my chest, she slowly suffocated to death. In the middle of the night, Sophia posted a photo of that dry towel on social media. Her caption read: [Being cherished feels even warmer than hot water in a storm.] At that exact moment, a voice message from Theo popped up on my phone. “If you’re done throwing a fit, bring Daisy back home. Don’t ruin our wedding photoshoot tomorrow.” I dressed my daughter in a white burial gown, carefully tucking her freezing little hands into her sleeves. Then I took Theo’s toothbrush, his shirts, and his slippers, throwing them into the dumpster downstairs. Outside the window, the rain finally stopped, and dawn broke. My seven-year relationship with Theo, along with Daisy’s last breath, was left behind in the mud of last night, never to be recovered again.

On the second day of Alpha Andy’s patrol with his junior assistant Scarlett, I wrapped up all handovers and applied to the High Elder for Pack Withdrawal. Ten minutes later, my phone pinged — Andy approved. “Looks like she’s leaving.” “Think Alpha Andy wanted her gone?” “Not sure. He treated her well; she quit on her own.” “She’s always overreacting. Maybe she’s a spy from another pack?” “A foreign future Luna is trouble. Good riddance, from the job and the pack.” “Right. She only had that position because of Andy. Alone, she wouldn’t survive.” “Why bother? She’s his fated mate. He must’ve given her gold.” “Who knows?” While I packed, pack-mates made snide comments, enjoying my embarrassment. Laugh all you want. We won’t be packmates soon. I’m used to this. I’m Lynda Roskruhe, from another pack. Our grandfathers were wartime allies, and Andy and I fell in love. He brought me here to help run pack affairs. We were happy until Scarlett became his assistant. We clashed from the start. Shockingly, my fiancé Andy and most wolves always sided with her, claiming she was young and needed my guidance. The pack never welcomed an outsider as their Luna. Andy once defended me, but now they target me to please Scarlett. I sneered. “Bad news. I’m joining the Nightfall Pack. No overlapping hunting lands, and their Sacred Spring is far better.” “What? You’re leaving Alpha Andy, not just the post?” Ignoring their stunned faces, I slung my bag and walked out of the pack gate. I wouldn’t return home yet — I didn’t want my parents sad. As I crossed the boundary, Andy called. I was ready to explain, but his cold voice came first: “I sent the hunting territory draft. Revise it and send it back in an hour.” He had no idea I’d already left.

The day before we were supposed to get married, I found out my fiancé, Bradley Bigham, was cheating on me with my best friend, Carla Fralin. So I shoved him into a tub of disinfectant and scrubbed him down three times. Then I posted Carla's intimate photos online, and they spread like wildfire. What I never expected was that my mother, Roxie Boyce, would get so worked up that she ended up completely paralyzed, pushing our already struggling family to the brink of financial ruin. Just as I was ready to drag them all down with me, Bradley's archrival, Connor Magder, saved me. "You're going to ruin your own life over a scumbag and a tramp? Don't be afraid. I'll be by your side from now on." I thought I'd finally been saved. In our third year of marriage, I was holding a pregnancy test, ready to surprise him. That was when I happened to see him on a video call with my ex-fiancé. Connor's eyes were full of complicated emotions. "I'll definitely be at your wedding. As long as Carla is happy with you, these years I've spent with Ariana will have been worth it." I froze where I stood, the blood in my veins running cold. When Connor looked up and saw me, his eyes filled with wariness. He assumed I'd raise hell like I had three years ago, until things spiraled completely out of control. Instead, I stepped in front of the computer's camera and said calmly, "Congratulations on your upcoming wedding. I wish you a lifetime of happiness together."

Three months into the planning of our wedding, Jacob River, my fiancé, suddenly started trending on Twitter. But it was not because he had finally given me the grand wedding he had long promised. Instead, it was because a certain romantic novel was published. It depicted the three years Jacob spent dating Rain Stone, his first love during high school. Not only was Jacob’s real name used, explicit imagery was also used to talk about how they had passionately made out on the roof, how they had touched each other in an empty classroom, and how they explored each other’s bodies in the sports equipment room. There were also tons of high-definition photos attached. In his uniform, Jacob had a doting expression and youthful liveliness I had never seen before. My blood ran cold, and I grabbed my phone to go to him for an explanation. He just gave it a nonchalant look and said, “It’s just a memoir about things in the past. Why are you fussing over nothing? I’ll have my assistant contact the publishers to remove it from the shelves.” The trending hashtag was soon removed, and the book was banned from stores. But one night, I woke up from thirst. There was no one beside me, but I could see light through the crack of the study. For some reason, I went closer and peered through the crack, and something there made my blood run cold. Jacob had always been restrained when it came to physical intimacy, but he was touching himself while looking at the photo of the sports equipment room in the book.

After the college entrance exam, Zac and I went on a graduation trip together. I never expected to run into my best friend, Keira, on the airport shuttle. Before I could even process the surprise, Zac started explaining next to me. "Keira's never been on a plane before. I happened to have some points, so I used them to get her a half-price ticket." Keira smiled and took my hand. "You don't mind having one more person with you, do you? I promise I'll try not to get in your way." I forced a smile. Once we arrived at our destination, the three of us went sightseeing together. They always seemed to gradually drift closer to each other while leaving me behind. Only after walking for a while would they suddenly remember I was there. They would then turn around and complain that I was walking too slowly. When I suffered from heatstroke and was taken to the hospital by a kind stranger, neither of them even noticed. "Where did you go? Did you get registered? Keira's starving." Zac called to question me. That was when I saw the message he had sent. He instructed me to go line up at a popular restaurant. I also saw the hundreds of photos of Keira he had sent in our three-person group chat. It was obvious who he paid more attention to. Since I was already out of the picture, I decided to just give up on him.

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.

I've always been a goody-two-shoes. The boldest thing I've ever done is falling in love with my older brother's friend, Oliver Anderson. The day Oliver finds out about my feelings for him, he's left feeling shell-shocked for a long time. But in the end, he still agrees to become my boyfriend. I thought we loved each other. But Oliver sends me a video featuring him and another young woman on my birthday. In the video, they did everything a couple can possibly do. At the end of the video, Oliver glances at the camera casually while smoking. "Vera, this is my gift for you. Never trust a man this easily." That's when I feel my confidence getting smashed into smithereens. That's why when Oliver and that woman show up in front of me, I give up on pursuing him once and for all.

Her husband, Graham Prescott, had a dream. In it, he betrayed Evelyn Fitzgerald for a young woman who worked at a private club, then hurt Evelyn again and again for her sake. For no clear reason, Evelyn's heart ached when she heard the story. The feeling passed almost immediately. Once she recovered, she teased him with a smile. "And then what happened?" "Then?" Graham pulled Evelyn into his arms and bit her ear in mock frustration. "Then you tricked me into signing divorce papers without realizing it. By the time I discovered the truth, you had vanished!" Graham insisted it was only a nightmare that could never come true, yet he began examining every document that passed through his hands, especially anything Evelyn gave him. He stopped visiting the club where he had always met his friends and kept his distance from every woman who worked there. He would wake in the middle of the night and could not fall asleep again until he saw Evelyn resting safely beside him. His separation anxiety became so severe that he needed therapy for a time. Evelyn found the whole thing both touching and absurd, but to reassure him, she became even more openly affectionate and dependent. Eventually, they both forgot the dream. Until Mara Holloway, a student Graham had sponsored, appeared.

"Gemma, we agreed on ten years. That time is up now. I'd like to leave with Kira." "You know he never liked her," she added quietly. In the quiet of the coffee house, Josie Carr spoke with a bitter expression. She had lived with Graham Holloway for ten years—ten long years, and still, she hadn't managed to thaw his heart. It wasn't love that brought them a child—it was a night of drunken confusion. He'd pushed her onto the bed, dazed and careless, and Kira came from that. Afterward, he gave her a villa and agreed to let her keep the baby. His only condition was simple: the child must never call him father. Publicly, Graham remained a single man. "I will never marry you. Don't hold out hope. "I'll pay child support, but don't expect me to acknowledge her. That child doesn't exist to 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.”

After three years of haunting forensics, the sadistic killer is finally caught. They question him about whether he's hidden any other bodies. Glenn Harris sits shackled hand and foot, but his eyes gleam with an excitement and madness he couldn't contain. "Of course!" He flashes a sly grin and says, "My sculpture instructor was my very first masterpiece. I encased her in plaster while she was still alive. "Her face had turned purple, yet she was still begging me to spare her children. I wouldn't have won that competition if it weren't for her expression. It looked so real." The detectives fight back their revulsion and demand to know why he did it. A knowing smile spreads across Glenn's face. "One of my juniors wanted her husband. She didn't want to be the bad guy, so I took care of it for her. "And once she'd become his partner, I was able to stay one step ahead of that brilliant detective for three years." In just three years, this detective has caught 20 fugitives who'd been on the run for 25 years or more. And yet, Glenn has slipped through his fingers 33 times. The detective in question is my ex-husband, Tobias Clark.

On the way to get our marriage certificate for the twentieth time, Rolf Trivett regretted it once again. In eight years, this was our twentieth attempt to get the certificate. But every time we reached City Hall, he would always say he needed time to care for his seriously ill childhood friend and couldn't promise to marry me. This time, I couldn't take it anymore and asked him, "If she’s never going to get better, does that mean you’ll never marry me? What am I to you?" Rolf immediately lost his temper and yelled at me, "I've already promised to take care of her for life. Can you stop being so selfish? "Besides, we've been together for eight years. What difference does it make if we don't get this certificate?"

When did you finally decide to give up on someone you loved? For me, it was the moment my study-abroad application was finally approved, and I instinctively wanted to text my boyfriend to celebrate. I opened WhatsApp, only to realize I had to scroll all the way down just to find his chat. Our last conversation had been a month ago, when we had a huge fight over something. His last message was a voice note; his tone filled with helplessness. "Clara, Hilary didn't do it on purpose. Don't be so petty. I'm going to help her print her lab data first. I'll bring you some cake when I get back." After that, he stayed busy helping his junior, Hilary Taylor, with competitions and lab work. I was busy earning credits, working on my professor's projects, and studying for the language test. I forgot to reply to him. I even forgot what we had been fighting about in the first place. But when I looked at our chat again a month later, I suddenly realized that sometimes, you really don't need to say goodbye when you leave someone behind.

The admissions office calls and says my daughter's admission fee has been paid, asking when I'll come to handle enrollment. I'm completely stunned. My daughter, Natalie Steward, is top of her class. She's already guaranteed a spot in the city's best high school, Dream High School, with no admission fee required. Upon questioning my husband, Arnold Lewiston, he claims the admissions office must've made a mistake. He says, "I just wanted to surprise you, so I pulled some strings with the principal to get her into the accelerated track. You should talk to the teachers and make sure we get the best homeroom teacher so I can look good." As soon as I end the call, I slam the accelerator and head straight to the admissions office. On my way there, I call Lynn Warrens, my best friend who works in the State Department of Education. "Help me check under whose name Arnold paid the admission fee for his illegitimate child. I'm going to withdraw them from the school!" I say.

On the day of our graduation photo, the class started sorting everyone into groups. I'd barely taken my place beside my boyfriend, Evan Brooks, when someone started shouting. "Put Claire next to Evan!" "Right? Claire's the prettiest girl on campus. She belongs beside the campus heartthrob!" Before I could react, my childhood friend Liam took my arm and gently traded our positions. "Nina, switch with Claire. "It's only a graduation photo. Don't be petty." Evan smiled and didn't refuse. He only stepped half a step aside, opening a space for Claire. I froze where I stood and touched the barrette in my hair without thinking. It was the first gift he'd ever given me. I'd stood in front of the mirror for ages getting it right, because I wanted one proper photograph with him. Right before the shutter, Evan called to me. "Nina." My heart lurched. The next second, he reached up and took the barrette out of my hair. "Claire's hair is a mess. Let her borrow this." The teasing started up again. Claire lowered her head and smiled. Evan didn't explain. The photographer called out. "All right—happy graduation!" When everyone shouted it together, I was standing at the very edge. At that moment, I finally understood that I had never belonged there. Since I had no place in your graduation photograph, you would have no place in my future.

The night we get married, Hugo Lambert caresses the burn on my shoulder and says, "They said you risked your life to go into the fire and save Hayden back then. I didn't believe them, but now it seems like they were telling the truth." He smiles bitterly. "So, in your eyes, I'm nothing more than a stand-in for him." Before I can explain, he silences me with a kiss. After a night of passion, I just assume he's jealous and teasing me. But after that night, Hugo starts seeing other women and never comes home again. Even when my father, Bernard Colgan, is on his deathbed, Hugo is still spending the night with his mistress, Janelle Langdon. I call him for the first time in three years. "Hugo, my dad is dying. He has something he wants to tell you…" Before I can finish, he cuts me off with a cold laugh. "Perfect. Hayden's been dead for years. Your dad can tell him in the afterlife."

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.”

I spent twenty hours on a train in coach, traveling more than 1,800 miles to see Harry Berger. I texted him to vent. "I'm so tired. My back feels like it’s about to break." It took him more than ten minutes to reply. "So? Do you want me to praise you for it, or feel sorry for you? "I didn’t make you come. You bought the ticket yourself, too. Don’t act like everyone owes you something." I stared at those words. The "I miss you" sticker I had intended to send remained unsent. Then he sent me an airport location. "Gemma heard you were coming and bought a ticket at the last minute. She wants to meet up with us. She has a lot of luggage, so I’m going to pick her up first since I’ll be passing by. Take a cab over yourself." After that, he transferred me twenty dollars for the cab. But the train station and the airport were on opposite ends of Westhaven. Then the notification sound for my starred contact went off. Gemma had posted on social media. In the photo, Harry was pulling her suitcase, one hand protectively resting at her waist. She proudly held up her first-class ticket. "Thanks to Mr. Berger for the first-class ticket! Five-star service. Definitely recommended!" I zoomed in on the picture and looked at the $2,000 ticket. Then I sent the twenty dollars for the cab back. I struggled to drag my suitcase down the steps and headed toward the airport. This time, I knew I wasn't going there to see him. I was going there to say goodbye to the version of myself who was always running toward him.

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.