Tragic Love Workplace Short Stories & Novels

Lately, Chloe Dunham has been posting photos on social media of late-night meals sent by an anonymous admirer. She was the only single one in our trio of best friends, so I was always the first to like her posts. But whenever I saw the hand-drawn doodles on the meal boxes, I couldn't shake the feeling that they looked exactly like the work of my boyfriend, Jacob Aniston. Chloe once flicked me on the forehead and teased me. "You jealous little thing. Don't go making up stories. The three of us have been friends since we were kids. If Jacob and I were ever going to fall for each other, we'd have gotten together ages ago." I rubbed my forehead and laughed, then let the matter go. That was until the station assigned Jacob and me to cover a typhoon from the front lines, and Chloe insisted on coming along to deliver supplies. Then the levee breached. The three of us ended up stranded atop a swaying communications tower as the floodwaters rose around us. When the water reached our waists, Jacob raised his microphone and faced the camera. He told viewers across the country that this might be his last broadcast. Then he reached out, pulled Chloe in front of the camera, and wrapped the only raincoat around her. "If I have to die, I have no regrets as long as I'm with you. Everyone, you don't need to wait for the next report. Right now, I want to protect the person I care about most." The livestream flooded with messages of congratulations as they held each other and cried. Meanwhile, I huddled in the corner, my lips purple from the cold. I didn't even have the strength to say another word. After the water level finally dropped and the rescue team pulled us to safety, I shook the mud from my clothes and opened the back door of the rescue vehicle. "Don't overthink it. Chloe's physically weaker than you. I was just afraid she'd get hurt," Jacob said.

Our department went on a team-building hike. When it was time to split into groups, I looked at Janet Wiley, the woman I had been secretly dating for two years, sure she would pick me. Instead, she walked over to Nash Fuller, her childhood friend who had just come back from overseas. "You're out of shape. Come with me. I'll make sure you don't fall behind." Nash gave her a crooked grin and rested a hand lightly on her arm. Our coworkers immediately started giving them a hard time. "Childhood sweethearts, huh? Ms. Wiley, you're still single, right? You two actually look pretty good together." Janet didn't move away. She just smiled faintly and said, "Yeah. I'm single." I went still. The night before, she was curled up in my arms, promising we would stop hiding our relationship soon. But after the groups were set, she never looked at me again. I ended up with whoever was left. Halfway up the trail, I rolled my ankle hard enough that I could barely put weight on it, so I texted her, [Janet, I can't keep going.] She read the message and left me on read. Forty minutes later, a photo from the summit popped up in the group chat. Nash stood close beside Janet with an arm around her shoulders, while she smiled brightly at the camera. The chat immediately filled with messages about how good they looked together. Someone even tagged me. [Bryce, you fell behind? Don't hold everyone up.] Another person wrote, [Nash made it to the top and you couldn't?] Then someone else added, [If you couldn't handle the hike, you shouldn't have come.] I made my way back down the mountain alone. By the time I reached the bottom, Janet was calling a ride for Nash. She saw me limping toward them and frowned. "Didn't I tell you not to message me privately? What if someone from work sees it and gets the wrong idea?" That was when it finally sank in. Our secret relationship only existed when it was convenient for her. In that moment, whatever we had between us was over. Janet no longer had a boyfriend to hide.

Vincent hated me for six years. He was certain I had betrayed him, and that I had gotten his childhood sweetheart Sophia killed. So he destroyed my family, sent my brother to prison, and married me to torment me. I explained many times but he never believed me once. Then I died. But among the things I left behind, he discovered that when he was bullied, I was the one who found the evidence. When the police took him away, I was the one who hired his lawyer. When his enemies came to kill him, I was the one who paid for the tip and warned him in time to run. He hated me for all those years, and fell in love with me the year I died.

My girlfriend, Olivia, had one way of measuring how much I loved her: how fast I replied. In the two years we dated, she blocked me 88 times. The first time, I was in the shower and missed her call. The 17th time, I was bringing her coffee when I missed a message asking for extra ice. The 56th time, I was at dinner with a client and didn't respond quickly enough to a video she'd sent me. This time, I worked until ten and missed the 9:50 p.m. movie she'd asked me to see with her. I told her there was a problem with the project and my manager wouldn't let me leave. She just laughed. "Anyone who really loves me would make it to a movie even with ten minutes' notice." When I got home that night, she'd changed the door code and removed my fingerprint from the lock. I sat outside all night. After work the next day, I went to her favorite jeweler and bought the necklace she'd wanted for the past three months. I kept telling myself I hadn't done enough. I just needed to do a better job balancing work and our relationship. She was in the shower when I got home. Her phone lit up on the dining table. A notification from a group chat called "Do Not Bring Him Tonight" flashed across the screen. Olivia, her childhood friend Ethan, and my best friend Daniel were all in it. Daniel had sent a voice message. "Olivia, I'll keep Chris at work late again tomorrow. Let's see if he chooses overtime or you." Ethan replied almost immediately with a laugh. "I found another beautiful piece of jewelry. It costs three times his salary. Send it to him and see if he chooses his paycheck or you." That was when I finally understood. I hadn't failed to prove that I loved her. They'd been setting me up to fail from the beginning. And if that was how things really were, I was done.