Short Tragic

My boyfriend, Nick, has finally returned after a decade-long battle in the south. I'm overjoyed when he tells me he'll marry me and make me his Luna. At that moment, I feel like I've finally found my home. But after getting pregnant, I accidentally come across a treasure trove of videos of him and my best friend, Sherry, in bed together. His journal also details his love for her. I log in to his extra WhatsApp account. Sherry has already blocked his number, but he still sends her messages of love—confession videos, words, and voice messages. I head to the hospital for a prenatal checkup. That's where I see My Alpha, Nick, getting on one knee before Sherry with a bouquet in one hand and his family heirloom—a moonstone necklace—in the other. He proposes to her. "I gave up on my dream to conquer the southern packs to return and see you, Sherry. I only have one goal—to marry you! Our child can't be without a father, and I'll mark you once you say yes! I'll make you my Luna!" he says. I turn away and make an appointment for an abortion. Then, I leave. Unexpectedly, he abandons Sherry and their child to come after me like a madman.

The golden boy of high society once stopped a plane for me. And I? I once ran away while pregnant, disappearing for three years. We got married. Nine years later, a younger, stunning woman appeared by his side. She was vibrant and fearless, joining him in all his wild adventures. Meanwhile, I had become a stay-at-home mom, spending my days making sure our daughter didn’t eat junk food. My husband said in disappointment, “Elaine, you’re not the woman you used to be.” Even our daughter complained. “Miss Snow is smart, gorgeous, and makes her own money. But you? You just rely on my dad.” The next morning, I grabbed my ID and filed for divorce. They must have forgotten that at twenty-two, I had the guts to jump off a cliff into the ocean just to break free, and at thirty-five, I would still have the strength to start over.

When I was six, I spilled hot water, slipped, and burned my face. My face was ruined. My parents learned their lesson and never let my younger sister do housework. To everyone they met, they praised her beauty, her charm. They turned to me with nothing but disdain. When I was ten, I had a high fever. They didn't think much of it and let it drag on until my brain was damaged, leaving me slow and dull. They learned their lesson again. From then on, if my sister so much as coughed, they would rush her to the hospital in the dead of night, showering her with care. I was like a failed experiment. Every mistake they made with me, they corrected for her. I was ugly, silent, dim-witted, unwanted. She was beautiful, sweet-talking, clever, adored by all. When I was diagnosed with depression, I gathered what little courage I had and told them. Mom lashed out, called me sick in the head, and accused me of being petty. If I was so capable, she said, I might as well die. It wasn't until my sister pushed me off a high-rise that they found out, by sheer accident, that she wasn't their child at all. I was their one and only biological child.

The last time I mentioned my engagement to Walter Reagle, everyone in the room went quiet at first. However, after seeing Walter's annoyed look, they all started laughing. "Who still believes in old-fashioned childhood betrothals these days?" "Is Ms. Lawson feeling insecure?" I ignored their teasing. I just looked at Walter, who was lounging on the couch with his shirt collar open, showing off the lovebites on his neck and collarbone. My heart felt like it was being stabbed. The pain came slowly. "We were too young to agree to something so silly," he said. Walter looked up with a faint, mocking smile. He gave me a lazy look. "We're grown up now, Emma. "Let's just forget about the past."

The night before I was supposed to marry the heir to the Moretti family, I found a string of ninety-nine filthy texts on my fiancé Leo’s phone. A woman named Ava Collins, telling him she loved him. Shameless. Desperate. She was begging him to call off our wedding, threatening to kill herself if he went through with it. I didn’t waste a second. I shoved the phone in his face and demanded an explanation. The silence stretched for an eternity before he finally broke. “Her brother was Liam. My underboss. He took a bullet for me. My bullet. I promised him I’d look after her.” "Jennifer, we grew up together. You know it’s you. It’s always been you. I swear, I’ll handle it. I’ll cut her off." I searched his eyes, hunting for the lie. I swallowed the acid in my throat and chose to believe him. The wedding was on. This was bigger than us. It was a treaty signed in blood between two families. And God help me, I still loved him. But on our wedding day, as we stood at the altar, vows on our lips, Leo got the call. It was her. Ava. On a bridge, threatening to jump. Demanding he come. Now. The diamond ring, a breath away from my finger, clattered to the stone floor of the church. Not a word. Not a single explanation. He just left. Left me, our families, our future... left me standing alone at the altar. Through a blur of tears, I screamed after him, "Leo, if you walk out that door, we are done!" His only reply, tossed over his shoulder, “She needs me.” He never looked back. Carrying his child, I vanished from his world and never looked back.

The night before my wedding, I stumbled upon his old chat logs with his friends. "I've never met anyone so easy to fool." "You know she comes from a single-parent home, right? She’s desperate for love." "So, all I have to do is be a little nice to her, and she throws herself at me." I used to believed he had saved me from the depths of despair, but in the end, he played me for a fool. I thought I’d found love, but in the end, my sincerity was worth less than dirt.

On Mia Larson’s birthday, her mother, who had been her anchor, passed away. Her husband, Nick Ford, did not celebrate her birthday, nor did he attend her mother’s funeral. Instead, he was at the airport, picking up his one true love.

Lindsey Johnson asks her fiance's true love, Stephanie Sullivan, to repay her debt. The next day, Jacob Whitaker throws at her a ledger that she had never seen before. Every single expense from their five-year relationship is recorded inside. From small things like two-dollar ice cream to the expensive items like the luxury bags he gave her. Even the costs of hotel stays and condoms are recorded in the ledger. "I'll split half the hotel bills with you. After deducting the 100 grand Stephie owes you, you still owe me 2.08 million. You have one month to transfer the month to my account."

Seven years into our marriage, I went to the hospital as usual to bring Jason Gunn lunch. But as I stood outside his office, I overheard his colleagues teasing him about a patient, calling her his girlfriend. To my shock, Jason didn't deny it—he simply smiled and allowed it. I placed the lunchbox down and turned to leave. He rushed after me, angrily accusing me of being unreasonable. "Zara is just a patient, someone who had surgery. She can't be stressed out. I'm a doctor! Can't you, as my wife, understand that?" In the past, I would have exploded, causing a scene and making the entire hospital chaotic. But now, I didn't care anymore.

In my last international car racing championship, the front tire of my car suddenly burst, causing the car to roll over. The cars behind me collided with me one by one. After 99 times, I was unrecognizable from the impacts. Just as I reached out to my boyfriend for help by instinct, he kicked me away, my body covered in blood and flesh. “Don't dirty my newly tailored clothes today.” He turned around, picked up the champion who had just crossed the finish line, and spun her around, smiling and saying: “Sharon, only the championship trophy is worthy of you. I will remove all obstacles for you.” Blood stained my entire body. Watching the two of them embrace as the sun set, I felt numb and desperate. What he didn't know was that among these red stains was the child who had just come into this world. At that moment, I gave up on continuing to love him.