قصص وروايات قصيرة عن Tragic Love وتضم Secretary

By my third month on the job, I discovered that my coworkers had been calling me "the old crow" behind my back. The nickname came from none other than Jace's condescending secretary—because at 32, I was still clutching onto an eight-year relationship that hadn't ended in marriage. I confronted Jace. "Do you know your employees have been calling me the old crow?" He didn't even bother to look up. "That's just Sadie—she speaks her mind and means no harm. You're 32; why get so worked up over what a young girl says?" Then he gave me a faint, mocking smile. "Though honestly, it's a pretty fitting nickname." It felt like a cold hand had wrapped around my heart. So that was it—eight years of my youth, nothing more than a joke to him. I turned and walked away, handed in my resignation, and blocked every way he could reach me. But for the first time, the man who had always seemed so calm and untouchable finally panicked. "Elara," he pleaded, "please come back."

On our seventh mating anniversary, my Alpha mate, Ronan Thorne, abandons me once again for his secretary, Evelyn Stone's sake. This time, I don't kick up a fuss at all. Instead, I calmly draw out a silver dagger in hopes of ending my life. The moment the tip of the dagger is pressed against my neck, I feel someone grab my wrist all of a sudden. "Why are you hurting yourself? Who broke your heart?" I looked up in a daze, only to see the 18-year-old version of Ronan. He's so anxious that his eyes have gone red. At the same time, he keeps trying to embrace me. "Tell me who that bastard is! I'll make him pay!" I don't explain anything at all. Instead, I merely utter his name softly. After that, the current Ronan personally locks me up in the dungeon. He claims that I need to reflect on myself—that I shouldn't target Evelyn out of jealousy. Just then, the younger Ronan appears again. He stares at the older and cold-looking Ronan outside the silver bars, then turns back to look at me with disbelief written all over his eyes. I just nod in response. He clenches his fists tightly. Soon, a furious roar escapes his throat. "He's not worthy of being your mate! I'll kill anyone who wants to hurt you, regardless of who they are!" As opposed to the 28-year-old Ronan, the 18-year-old version of him loves me more than anything else in the world. Naturally, he will definitely stick to the promises he has made to me.

My fiancé Felix Morgan’s secretary Claire believed in tarot the way other people believed in gravity. The first time she met me, she threw a glass of water in my face. Without missing a beat, she explained to Felix, "You have an important client today. The cards say that if your lover wears makeup, it will ruin your luck." I assumed Felix would punish her for it. Instead, he turned to me. "Audrey, go take it off. The client comes first." After that, she only got bolder. On our anniversary, she said Felix would face bloodshed or even death if he saw me that day. So I did not see Felix once all day. When we planned our pre-wedding shoot, she said I would bring Felix bad luck that year. The photo shoot I had spent weeks planning was quietly canceled. I fought with Felix about it more times than I could count. And every time, he gave me the same self-righteous speech: "Claire is an extremely dedicated secretary. Everything she does is for me and for the company. The more I earn, the better the life I can give you!" Then I found out I was pregnant. Claire said, "This baby was conceived at an unlucky time. It will hold Felix's career back." Felix did not hesitate for a second. "Get rid of it. Claire wouldn't steer me wrong. There will be other babies. We'll have Claire pick a good time later." Something inside me finally broke. I put a hand on my stomach. Fine. Then this baby wouldn't carry the Morgan name.

During a rainstorm, I wait at a bus stop for three hours, but Joanne Sanders never shows up to keep her promise to pick me up. Just as I'm about to hail a cab, I see her secretary post an update on social media. In the photo is a familiar car dashboard. The caption reads, "Thanks to my boss for driving me home!" In the past, I would have bombarded Joanne with calls and messages, demanding an explanation. But this time, I simply move my finger across the screen and like the post. After I leave without a word, carrying my luggage with me, she panics and searches for me everywhere. She says, "I can change. Please don't leave me."

After a falling out with my long-distance boyfriend, I decide to secretly fly home to patch things up with him. Unexpectedly, I catch him fooling around at home with his secretary. "Do you need to be so mad? I only got someone to act as your stand-in. Ultimately, you're still the one I love." I listen to his preposterous lies and hide my stomach cancer diagnosis behind my back. I say, "It's not a bad idea to gather more of these fakes. You won't be too upset when I'm dead." But after I die, he loses his mind when he looks at his secretary's face.

I'm Tristan Scott's driver's daughter. Ten years ago, my father died at the hands of Tristan's abductors as he tried to save Tristan. Tristan had held me close and told me, "I'll care for you for the rest of your life on your father's behalf." Later, my mother's cancer relapsed due to her sorrow after losing my father. Before her death, she hoped to see Tristan and me marry. But on the wedding day, Tristan leaves me at the altar. I weep and try to keep him around, but he sneers and says, "You should know where to draw the line—your father gave his life in exchange for the cushy life you now have. That should be enough for you! You're dreaming if you think you can marry me!" In the end, my mother dies without seeing Tristan put a ring on me. That night, his assistant shares an Instagram story. The photo is of her and Tristan's faces plastered to each other as she shows off the ring on her finger. It's captioned, "My answer is yes."

I was with Ivan Knowles for seven years. Despite the rumors that always swirled around him, he never gave me a reason to doubt his loyalty. He let me check his phone and even welcomed me to join him on business trips. I never found anything suspicious until our engagement day. The host had just shared how Ivan flew in my favorite white roses from abroad when the big screen, meant to play a video celebrating our seven years together, instead showed a hospital room. The cry of a newborn rang out. Ivan sat on the bed holding the baby. His secretary, Alba Lawson, leaned on his shoulder, wearing the same diamond ring as mine. Tearfully, she explained to me that it was a misunderstanding. "Alba is a single mom," Ivan excused. "I'm just helping her out as her boss. Don't make a big deal out of this." The room went quiet, everyone waiting for me to flip out. I didn't. Instead, I calmly slipped off my ring and handed it to him. "Of course not. I just wish you happiness."

"Mr. Austine, Ms. Weinstein signed off on your resignation, but she didn't realize it was yours. Should I tell her?" Aaron Austine looked down. "No. Leave it." "You've been her secretary for four years. You're her go-to. Are you sure you want to quit?" The HR rep kept pushing. Aaron just smiled. "She'll manage. My parents aren't in great health, so I'm moving back home. I want to meet someone and settle down. She approved it, so I'll hand things off and leave in a month. Thanks." He hung up and got back to packing. Three years in this mansion. His stuff fell somewhere between barely anything and way too much. He kept what he needed and tossed the rest. As the room emptied, he paused. The memories came flooding back.

The year my ex Lucas Brooks almost went bankrupt, I took half a million from his mother to marry another man. Eight years later, he made a triumphant comeback, forcing me to stay by his side while refusing to grant me any title. By day, I was his private secretary. By night, I was his old flame, summoned and dismissed at his whim. Many women rotated in and out by his side. Every single one of them walked away with townhouses and diamonds. As for me, I had to drop to my knees and beg for his approval just to take a half day off for the hospital. When I was diagnosed with terminal cancer, I asked him for ten grand—just enough to get myself a decent burial plot. Yet Lucas ripped the check into shreds. “Was that half a million back then not enough? How dare you ask for my money again?” He froze my salary account and forced me to coordinate the wedding preparations for him and his new socialite bride. On the day of their wedding, I stood coughing up blood as I fastened the veil over the bride’s hair. Lucas swept past me with her on his arm, not glancing back once. He said: “Once the wedding is over, we’ll talk about you faking an illness.” I only shook my head with a faint smile. I feared I couldn’t possibly wait that long.

The day my boyfriend returned from his business trip overseas, I broke up with him. He looked at me with a faint smile. "You're breaking up with me just because I didn't buy you that handbag?" "Yes." I nodded without hesitation. Seven days earlier, my boyfriend, Elias Jones, had traveled to Francoria on a business trip with his team. When he came back, he had souvenirs for everyone. Even the security guard at the office received a crocodile leather belt. Everyone got a gift except me. The bag I had been talking about for the past two months and wanted for my birthday had slipped his mind completely. Then I opened Instagram and saw a photograph his newly hired secretary had posted, proudly showing off a designer handbag. [Feeling grateful for the best boss in the world! You're the absolute best!] Elias had replied beneath the post. [It was nothing.] I stared at the screen for a long time before quietly deleting the message I had been about to send him. Melissa: [Can't wait for you to come home.] Elias and I had known each other since we were seven years old. We fell in love at eighteen and had spent the last twenty years growing up side by side. There had been a time when I was always his first priority. Somewhere along the way, everyone else started coming before me. Just like now. We were in the middle of ending our relationship when his phone lit up with a Messenger invitation from Tracy, his new secretary, asking him to join her for lunch. He glanced at the notification, smiled, and waved the whole conversation away. "Come on. Stop being dramatic. "It's just a handbag. I'll buy you one next time. "Tracy's waiting for me for lunch. Just grab a cab home." He hurried out without looking back. I did not try to stop him. Instead, I opened my chat with a studio in Brighton City. They had already invited me to join them seven different times. I finally sent my reply to their last offer. Melissa: [I've decided to accept your offer. My flight arrives tomorrow night. See you in Brighton City.] After hitting send, I slipped my engagement ring off my finger and placed it inside the top drawer of his desk. Elias… From this moment on, our lives would go in their separate directions.

In their fifth year of marriage,Jessica went to renew their marriage certificate. However, she was told that the certificate was fake, and her husband's legal wife was someone else. The love that had seemed inseparable for five years turned out to be a lie. When she returned home, she overheard Anthony, her husband, talking to his lawyer: "Linda is building her career abroad, and to establish herself in the business world, she needs the title of Mrs. Harris. I have to help her." "As for Jessica, she's completely devoted to me. She's already cut ties with her family for me, and she will never leave." Hearing that, Jessica's heart turned to stone. By the time Anthony brought back the real marriage certificate, Jessica had disappeared, and he was unable to find her again.

We’d been together for seven years, but during that entire time, my fiancée rejected the idea of getting married ninety-nine times, all because of a male intern. The first time, she canceled our vacation at the last minute, saying the intern was stuck on a night shift and afraid of the dark. She got on a flight that very night and rushed back to the hospital. The second time, we were already halfway through the doors of the courthouse to get our marriage registered. But just then, she got word that the intern had collapsed from exhaustion. Without a second thought, she left me standing alone in the snow for the entire day. After that, it became a pattern. Every time we were together, the intern would find some excuse to pull her away. Eventually, I made up my mind to let go. I stopped dreaming about a happy marriage with her. However, just when I announced I was transferring to another city, she broke down, begging me, almost hysterically, not to leave.

On our tenth wedding anniversary, my wife's secretary, Ryan, posted a photo on social media. I took off my wedding ring and asked for a divorce. Madison looked stunned. "You're divorcing me over a picture of me with a cat? What kind of childish stunt is this?" She was severely allergic to cat fur. For her, I gave away the cat I'd loved for seven years. In ten years of marriage, I'd never even thought about getting another pet. Yet she let Ryan keep a ragdoll cat in the office. Cat fur was everywhere, but she'd just smile, pop an allergy pill, and say the cat helped her relax. There were more photos of that cat on her phone than pictures of our family. When Madison realized I was serious, she snapped. She pointed at our five-year-old daughter, sitting in Ryan's arms. "If you divorce me, you'll never get custody of Bella. And don't expect her to take care of you when you're old!" I looked at Bella calmly. She glared back, her little hand gripping Ryan's shirt. I smiled. I didn't want my cheating wife anymore. Why would I want an ungrateful brat too?

Five years ago, Gary Cooper proposed to me 99 times just to marry me. Five years later, to cheer up the secretary he adored, he handed me 99 divorce papers. "Relax. I'm not actually divorcing you. I'm just humoring her. Just pretend like you always do. There's no need to sign." When Gary said it, he was even smiling. As for me, the heartbreak I once felt had long since faded. Now, there was barely a ripple left. I suddenly remembered what day it was and asked quietly, "Will you be home for dinner tonight?" He paused for a moment, then casually shook his head. "Probably not. Today's kind of special. I don't want her to get jealous." I nodded and watched him walk out the door. Then, I picked up a pen and carefully signed my name on the 99th divorce agreement.

At the company's tenth-anniversary celebration, my wife's male secretary was in charge of the raffle. When it was time for the grand prize, he somehow drew his own name. My wife asked him what he wanted, and he pointed at the watch on my wrist. I flatly refused. How could a personal belonging be used as a prize? But the male secretary turned to my wife and whined, "That watch is a limited edition. There's only one in the world." My wife signaled for me to give the watch to him. I argued my case, but my wife slapped me across the face instead. "It's just a watch. Don't ruin the mood of the anniversary celebration." I smiled, took off the watch, and handed it to her secretary. It was a wedding gift from her that I had treasured for years, but now, I had decided to throw away both the watch and her.

Our third wedding anniversary was coming up, but my wife, a programmer at a major tech company, suddenly claimed she had to work overtime to meet deadlines. She said she couldn't go on the trip we'd planned. That very afternoon, however, her intern posted a video on social media. My wife—the same woman who normally wouldn't even open a door for fear of chipping her manicure—was holding a screwdriver, repairing an old flip phone. The caption read: [Having a programmer wife is the best. Even when Grandma's phone breaks, we don't need to pay for repairs.] I chuckled, liked the post, and commented: [Right up her alley.] Within minutes, the company group chat exploded. There were over ninety-nine unread messages speculating on when I'd finally snap. Not long after, my wife called. Her voice was ice-cold. "What was that comment supposed to mean? How is Shawn supposed to face anyone at work now? "His grandma's phone broke, so I fixed it. What's the problem? Your parents have always spoiled you. You can't possibly understand real hardship. "Delete the comment. I'll make it up to you over the New Year; we can take that trip then." The New Year? I'd already waited through two other major public holidays. I'd even taken special leave for this trip, and she still bailed. Now she was dangling empty promises again? I hung up on her. My leave ended around the same time as our divorce cooling-off period.

Tatum picked out our family car, saying that it would be a beautiful way to start our life together. After we got married, though, I had to push the passenger seat all the way forward. The rear-view mirror never caught my entire face. The seat belt pressed painfully against my collarbone. The headrest hit the back of my head at the worst angle possible. I once asked if the seat could be set to my preferred position. He shut me down, claiming the passenger settings were saved, so it was best not to meddle and overwrite the car's memory profile. I never brought the subject up again. One time, my flight landed at eleven at night on my return from a business trip. I called him thrice. Tatum didn't pick up the first time and rejected my call on the next. He texted me then. "Take an Uber home. I'm in a meeting." Outside the airport, rain came down in sheets. I stood in the taxi line for forty minutes, hauling my suitcases behind me. When my ride passed his office, I spotted his car parked by the curb, and someone sat in the front with him. It was Hazel, his longtime executive assistant. Standing at 5'7", she wore her hair down to her waist. The passenger seat was pulled back just enough for her; the headrest rested perfectly behind her head, and the seat belt crossed her chest at exactly the right angle. Everything was to her measurements, all right. So when Tatum chose the car, the woman he had pictured sitting next to him had never been me.

Liam Hurley's favorite thing to say to me is, "Don't worry." Don't worry. Once he consolidates his power and ends the internal strife of the pack, we'll reveal our relationship. Because of that, I waited for two years. Don't worry. We'll hold the bonding ceremony as soon as his mother accepts me. I waited for another three. In the fifth year, at the banquet celebrating Liam's rise to Alpha of the Ashmoon pack, his mother, Elana Gibson, unclasps the moonstone necklace from around her neck in front of everyone. Liam told me long ago that passing down the moonstone necklace is the Ashmoon pack's official ritual for acknowledging a Luna. I figure Liam won't be telling me not to worry this time. "Here, let me put this on you." Elana walks right past me and gently fastens the necklace around the neck of Lilith Powell, Liam's assistant. The whole banquet hall falls dead silent. Elana pats the back of her hand with a warm smile. "Lilith is so sweet and kind, and she's been a massive help to Liam. She has a special place in my heart." I hear someone whisper, "What about Freya?" Liam lowers his voice. "My mother cherishes bonds. Lilith really has done a lot for me, so don't take it personally. Don't worry, okay? Next month, I'll take you to pick out a better moonstone necklace that's way more valuable than that one." As the crowd scatters, Lilith strokes the necklace and gives me a smug smile. "Freya, are you jealous? Elana says this moonstone has been passed down for seven generations in the Ashmoon pack." I tell her I am. Just then, my phone buzzes in my pocket. "Have you made up your mind? When are you coming to Nordravia?"

John Garnett's secretary fed me to the dogs on my own birthday. I called his number endlessly to call for help, only for him to block my number immediately, as he fooled around with his secretary at the presidential suite in broad daylight. All I felt was agony as I was ripped into countless little pieces, still holding on to the black rose seeds he had given me when we were younger. That was not thrilling enough for the secretary, however, she buried me in the backyard of John' villa, intent on making my perished soul watch their bedroom activities. It was not until rain poured a month later, and a cluster of black roses suddenly grew in the backyard. "Where's Claire? I was just scaring her with the dogs—did she run away just to spite me?"

When Evelyn Berkeley signed the contract, she thought she was one step away from happiness. She'd loved Liam Dudley for ten years. She'd given him her heart the moment she first saw him at 15, even though their marriage had been a "deal" from the start. For three years, she'd been his hidden Luna, the assistant he could summon at will, and the mate he slept with but refused to have a child with. She put up with his coldness, his neglect, and his betrayal, because she still held on to one naive hope. Maybe someday, he'd finally see her. Then her half sister, Lily Berkeley, came back. Evelyn was pushed down the stairs. Pregnant with twins, she lay in a pool of blood while her husband swept another woman into his arms and walked away. Only then did she understand. Some love can't be taken back once you've given it, and some people will never love you back. The day she signed the papers to dissolve their mate contract, the proud Alpha finally bowed his head. But some wounds can't be healed by a belated "I love you," and real love takes a lifetime to prove. This is a story about mistaken identity, missed chances, and choosing again. When love has burned to ash, can it ever be lit again?