Unattainable Love Tragic Love Short Stories & Novels

When I opened my eyes once more, Flora was holding me tightly. I had secretly loved her for a decade. Her warm lips kissed my neck, telling me not to leave. This time, I pushed her away and told the butler to send her to her first love's home. Her first love was Sean Graham. In my last life, Flora drank so much that she was drunk during the celebration organized for me to celebrate me for getting an overseas college's offer letter. After the celebration, I didn't refuse her when she wanted me to stay, and that wild night came to pass. The next morning, when Sean saw me coming out of Flora's bedroom, he pretended to be amiable and said he would make our wish come true despite the darkness in his eyes. Then, he disappeared for about one month. In the end, we found a blood-stained necktie in the mountains and the skeletal remains that had been feasted on by wild animals. Flora didn't sleep for an entire night as she held Sean's necktie in her hand. After that, it was like the discovery hadn't affected her at all, as she still passionately planned for my birthday trip. But that very night during the trip, I was abducted. I begged the kidnappers to beg Flora to pay the ransom, but I heard her personally give the orders. "Don't let him die too easily. He's just some scum of the earth. Do whatever you want with him. When you're done, dump him in the Northern Barrens and clean things up. He owes Sean this much!" Flora, I'm done playing by your rules this time around.

My husband, a regiment commander, once promised me he'd only accompany his depressed first love ninety-nine times. But when I finally reached that ninety-ninth tally, I saw the two of them locked in a tight embrace. After that, I stopped crying and begging him not to go to her. I only asked him for a safety locket—a small blessing for our soon-to-be-born child. At the mention of the baby, his expression softened. "When I get back," he said gently, "I'll go with you to the hospital for the checkup." I nodded obediently. I didn't tell him that ten days earlier, I had already filed for divorce. Now, our divorce was final.

How rich can a person be? My wife is incredibly rich. People call her "The Queen of Cloudridge" because nearly half the city's properties are owned by her. We've been married for five years, and every time she goes out to meet her first love, she transfers a property to my name. By the time I have 99 homes in my name, she suddenly notices that something has changed. I no longer cry, beg, or ask her to stay. I simply choose the finest mansion in all of Cloudridge, bring the property deed with me, and wait for her to sign it. She signs the papers, and for the first time, she softens. "When I get back, let's go watch the fireworks together." I quietly tuck the agreement away and hum in response. But I never tell her what she's really signed this time. It's not a property deed. It's our divorce agreement.

For eighteen years, my wife, Elizabeth Connerty, never once reached out to her first love, Lucas Ryder. She committed herself fully to me and cooked warm meals for me. She attended every parent-teacher conference for our daughter. She carefully planned our family trips year after year. That was how we lived—quietly, steadily, and happily—for eighteen years. But after our daughter celebrated her eighteenth birthday, I turned to Elizabeth and said, "Let's get a divorce." She stood in the doorway of our daughter's bedroom, staring at me in stunned silence. I added calmly, "When our daughter was born, you promised me that once she turned eighteen, we would divorce."

My marriage to Tommaso Volpe, Don of the Volpe family, is part of a five-year contract. We each have someone we love, and we stay out of each other's way. He loves his adopted sister, Gelsomina Volpe, who needs his protection. My heart belongs only to my deceased fiancé, Marco Damiano. For five years, I play the perfect Signora Volpe, enduring Gelsomina's provocations and cruelty again and again. She forces caustic substances down my throat that nearly destroy my esophagus. He tells me to let it go for his sake. She stages her own kidnapping and forces Tommaso to choose between saving her and me. He doesn't hesitate, choosing to save her while I sink to the bottom of that freezing lake. On the last day of our contract, I calmly pack my things and leave the signed divorce papers behind. I need to find a young man who looks just like Marco. He's all I have left to hold onto. But after I leave, Tommaso loses his mind searching for me, saying he's fallen in love with me. He threatens me with the entire city's underworld just to stay by my side. He watches me grow close to my new "replacement" and goes mad with jealousy. He thinks he still has a chance, but he has already lost this game from the very beginning.

Even on my hundredth proposal, Isabelle Cole still turns me down. We've been together for seven years. For the previous 99 proposals, she said her childhood friend isn't married yet, and she can't bring herself to break the promise they've made. Staring at the ring in my hand, I finally can't hold it in anymore. "If Ronald never gets married, are you going to keep him company forever? What am I to you?" Isabelle's expression turns gloomy in an instant. She snatches the ring and throws it into the river. "Ron and I made a promise when we were kids that we'd get married at the same time. How can I just abandon him? "And besides, is that piece of paper really all that important, Lucas? We've been together for seven years. What difference would it even make?"

My wife's first love crashes his car into me at 75 miles per hour, throwing my body over 65 feet across the road. As I am moments away from drawing my last breath, I use the remainder of my energy to call my wife. Focused on helping him cover up his crimes, she brushes me off before hanging up. "I'm busy—stop bothering me," she spits. Little does she know, the man who was just killed… is me.

The apocalypse has arrived. I carry multiple special abilities and am humanity's hope. However, my wife tears those powers out of me for the sake of her true love. I'm in unbearable pain. I beg her to stop, telling her I'll die. But she doesn't care at all. "Why are you so selfish? You have so many abilities and won't even give one to Ed. Stop being so dramatic. Why do you get to be the hero while my Ed stays an ordinary person?" What she doesn't know is that each special ability is like a heart—take it away, and the person dies.

When it's time for us to say our vows during the wedding ceremony, Jessica Fletcher, my wife, leaves the stage just so she can confess her love to her first love, Benedict Olson. "Once upon a time, we had vowed to stay together for the rest of our lives, Benedict. It's unfortunate that we've missed out on the chance to do so in this lifetime. Would you be willing to stay with me in our next life, then?" Touched, Benedict pulls Jessica into his arms. Then, he turns to tell me, "Oliver, I've already given Jess to you in this lifetime, so you must take good care of her for me." Everyone gasps in shock, thinking that they'll soon witness two men fighting over the same woman. But I merely smile at the sight of Benedict and Jessica embracing each other tightly. Then, I take off my ring before passing it to Benedict. "Why wait till your next life to be together? Since you've already made a vow to stay together for eternity, I might as well grant your wish."

At the company's year-end awards ceremony, just as it is supposed to be my turn to go on stage and officially announce the relationship between my wife and me, my wife's first love suddenly proposes to her in front of everyone. Angela Reed does not refuse. Instead, she laughs brightly and promotes Samuel Hayden to the new department manager. Employees throughout the entire company cheer loudly for their romance. Seeing that I have no reaction, someone beside me cannot help but ask, "Ronald, you've worked for Ms. Reed for nine years. How can you show no response at all?" I smile as I walk onto the stage, take off my wedding ring, and toss it to Samuel. "How can you propose without preparing a ring? Here—it's yours."

At the wedding, just as I was about to exchange rings with my fiancée, her conniving boyfriend intentionally pushed his son toward her. Right in front of everyone, the boy looked up with teary eyes and asked, "Mom, why are you marrying this man? Don't you want me and Dad anymore?" My fiancée, who never lied, smiled, took the child's hand, and said, "I was only pretending with this man earlier. Now I am going to marry your father." The banquet hall buzzed with whispers. Everyone expected me to get jealous and blow up. Instead, I said the child came first and calmly handed the ring to the boyfriend sitting below the stage. Seeing how cooperative I was, my fiancée grinned and promised she would give me a healthy baby boy someday as a thank you. However, she seemed to have forgotten that we had not officially tied the knot yet. Truth be told, I had no intention of ever doing so.

During the long National Day holidays, I planned a Golden Highlands trip for the whole family. I even booked tickets for a luxurious train ride so we could enjoy the scenery. But on departure day, my husband and son vanished. I called my husband. I could hear an airport boarding announcement in the background. My voice trembled. "Where are you?" He panicked and mumbled that the company had an emergency before hanging up. I tried calling again, but the line was busy. The next day, he posted an update on his social media. In the photo, he stood beneath the snowy peaks of Wintercrown with one arm around his old love while the other held our son. The caption read: [If we had been a little braver back then...] A friend commented: [Where is your wife?] I stared at his reply: [She's sick and resting at home.] Three expired train tickets sat on the table as my eyes welled up with tears. A decade of marriage. A pack of lies. It was time to bring it all to a close.

The night Gloria Leach—my husband's ex—died in the rain, he floored it and drove us off a cliff. That's when it clicked. Evan Patterson had always hated me for getting between him and Gloria. Then I woke up, I was back on the wedding day. This time, he didn't even pause. Ditched the rings. Ran straight to her outside the church. I didn't cry. Didn't make a scene. I just called it off. While they turned their reunion into a show, I said yes to someone else. In this life, Evan and I were strangers. Until eight years later. An auction. I placed a no-cap bid on the final item—sapphire cufflinks. Won. I was leaving when Evan stepped in front of me, scowling. "Robyn, stop embarrassing yourself. Even if you bought every cufflink on earth for me, I still wouldn't love you. Gloria's the only one in my heart." I didn't even look at him. Just reached for the little girl beside me. "Sweetheart, say hi to the gentleman." He saw her face—mine, copied clean. His eyes went red, and his grip snapped around my wrist. "She's our daughter?"

I had funded Tilly Jenkins for five years—and spent those same five years chasing after her. Just when I thought I had finally won her heart—when I believed she was ready to spend her life with me—I discovered the truth: the one she had loved all along was her childhood sweetheart, the boy who had grown up by her side. I, on the other hand, to her, was nothing more than a privileged elite who used money to grind her pride into the dirt. A few years into our marriage, she secretly transferred my assets away—and even had a child with that childhood sweetheart of hers. In the end, I died filled with resentment, trapped in a raging fire. The flames reflected the sight of the three of them together, smiling like a perfect family, while I cried myself to death in despair. After I was reborn, Tilly's childhood sweetheart shoved me hard, sneering with open contempt. "What do you take us for? Toys for rich people like you?!" I slipped my bank card back into my pocket at once. "Sorry, having money doesn't mean I'm brain-dead. I'm not interested in trashy toys like that."

I was a nobody, but for three years, I was in love with Dante, the heir to the Blackwood family—Chicago's biggest name in the mob. The day I found out I was pregnant, I was overjoyed. I couldn't wait to tell him the good news. But then I heard his twin brother, Marco, ask him, "Bro, when are you gonna tell Rose it was me in her bed every night, pretending I was you?" Dante's voice had a coldness I'd never heard before. "At the wedding, in one week. I'll expose everything, then I'll propose to Isabella." Isabella. The rich girl who used to bully me. So, this was all just payback for his precious Isabella. But what Dante didn't know was that the wedding he'd so carefully planned would be missing its bride.

Due to an accident, my wife and I lost our lives in a massive fire. When we open our eyes again, we find ourselves back on the day we registered our marriage. In our last life, everyone thought we were the perfect couple. Little did they know that my wife, Queenie Lloyd, refused to consummate our marriage. Right before my death, I found out that I was nothing but a replacement for her first love. Queenie had intended to remain chaste for him for the rest of her life. After being reborn, neither of us speaks of the past. By an unspoken agreement, we get a divorce that very day and go on to live separate lives. Eight years later, she attends an industry summit holding her childhood sweetheart's arm. She's now a rising star in the business world. I am dressed in plain clothes. When she notices me, she walks over with a champagne glass in hand. "Mr. Lawrence! Even if you still have feelings for me, you didn't have to disguise yourself as a waiter just to approach me. Are you still trying to convince me to get back together with you?" she sneers. I ignore her and smile as I wave at someone nearby. My son runs over to me and tugs on the corner of my shirt. "Mommy said she's tired, Daddy. She wants to know when you're coming to pick us up," he tells me. Upon hearing this, Queenie's face stiffens immediately, and she almost drops her wine glass.

After secretly registering our marriage, my lawyer husband, Benedict White, proposed holding a public wedding ceremony every time he gained favor with his lover, Anna Lester. Over three years, Benedict asked me thirty-three times and broke thirty-three promises. The first time, Anna’s dog died. He said we had to mourn for three months to honor it. I stood in a wedding dress and apologized endlessly to the friends and relatives seated below the stage. The second time, Anna had menstrual pain. He turned around on the way and went to care for her. After that, every ceremony he promised came with a new problem from Anna. I cried. I protested. Yet Benedict always said, “She's just a friend with benefits. You’re my wife. Don’t be so petty about it.” After the thirty-third time, I finally grew tired. I slid a divorce agreement across the table in front of him. “Let’s get this over with.”

For over thirty years, my wife Janet faked being broke—for her flimsy ex. When our son Asher landed in the hospital, I begged and borrowed from everyone I knew. Still came up fifty bucks short. Janet? Said she was tapped out. So my mom sold off her own meds to cover the bill—never told me. She died without treatment. I handled my mom's funeral alone. When I went to pick up Asher from the hospital, I found a stash of Janet's old shopping receipts. Custom suits. Million-dollar watches. A damn private jet. I grabbed them and stormed off to confront her. Asher cut me off. "Dad, Mr. Sackett's sick. Mom's just helping him out. Why are you freaking out?" I stared at the kid who only lived because my mom died. It felt like something cracked inside me. Janet barely looked up. "Connor's educated. He deserves the finer things. Unlike you—crying over fifty bucks like some househusband. See? I didn't give you the money, and Asher's fine." Fine. If that's how they see it, I'm done with this family.

After a car accident, my wife loses her memory. She throws herself into her first love's arms and frantically aborts our child. When I confront her in despair, she looks at me with nothing but contempt. "Why would I keep some child when I don't even know who the father is? You're really shameless, pulling this stunt just to avoid splitting the assets." What she doesn't know is that I have made a deal with the system to bring her back to life. By the time she remembers everything, she's already searching desperately for me all over the world. But I can never return.

My daughter Stella was dying—kidneys shot, barely hanging on. She needed a transplant. Fast. But my wife, Kylie—the hospital director—stole the donor kidney meant for Stella and handed it off to her old flame's kid instead. That boy lived. They celebrated. Played happy family while my daughter was bleeding out hope. That same day, I called Kylie. Told her Stella didn't have much time. All she said was, "That ungrateful brat's faking it again? Lying? If she wants to die, let her." Stella didn't make it. Her body gave out in the worst way. And when Kylie finally saw her—really saw her—she broke.