Tragic Story Title Ideas

In the fifth year of being Mrs. Cloud, my brother-in-law passed away. My mother, stressed by the thought of my older sister spending her youth in widowhood, wanted her to have a child with the help of my husband. I refused outright, but my protests were useless. My mother brought people to block the door, and I was left to watch helplessly as my husband and my half-sister entered the bedroom together. "She's your sister. What's the harm in letting her have him?" I thought that my husband couldn't possibly do anything with my sister since she was family. I thought he would draw the line, out of decency, out of respect. However, as time passed, my heart grew cold. Only then did I realize that I was the only one who cared about this matter. While I clutched our daughter in my arms and cried in silent devastation, he was going at it with my sister.

My mother-in-law lives alone. One day, her house suddenly catches on fire. It's a life-threatening situation. I call my firefighter husband several times before he answers impatiently. "I don't care why you're calling—can't it wait? I'm fixing Sophie's pipes!" I tell him about his mother being trapped in a fire, but he merely sneers. "How dare you curse my mother just to make me go home? You're insane!" He hangs up without another word. I'm left helpless. All I can do is wait for his colleagues to arrive, but they only come half an hour later. Their expressions shift to horror when they see the blazing fire. "Didn't Captain Scott say his wife was lying?" My mother-in-law dies due to the delay. My husband even misses the funeral because of his first love. I give up on him and ask for a divorce. However, he rips the divorce agreement to shreds and shatters the urn that contains his mother's ashes. "Drop the act—I would definitely go through with the divorce if not for my mother!" I laugh. He doesn't even know his mother is already dead.

After my parents died in a car crash, my cousin stole the compensation money and moved overseas to start a business. My aunt begged me on her knees not to call the police. Then, she locked me in a dark basement for three months. I was close to breaking down and ending my life when Julien Lawson, the neighbor’s son, broke down the basement door and saved me. “Joyce, what they did is unforgivable! They stole the compensation money for your parents’ deaths. You were going to use it to open your own studio! “Marry me. I’ll protect you.” He was the only person who cared about me after my parents died. I was so grateful that I married him and had his child. I worked three jobs during the day to help support the orphanage that Julien ran. At night, I took care of our child and created design sketches. But no matter how hard I tried, none of my work was ever accepted. Even though Julien told me to keep at it, I felt discouraged and thought of giving up on my design career to focus on our family. One day, our child was sick. I went to take over the shift from Julien when I overheard him talking to my aunt on the stairs. “Julien, it’s been ten years. Joyce’s designs are getting better and better. She even passed the first round of the national competition. Are you really not going to tell her about the next round?” my aunt asked. Her voice trembled. Julien said coldly, “For years, I’ve been sending Joyce’s design sketches to Mindy to copy and enter in the competitions or publish as her own. “To help Mindy’s career, I can’t let Joyce move on to the next round. “Joyce has talent. If people notice her, she’ll be a threat to Mindy’s career!”

Every week, mt mate Alpha Bruce dragged a new side-chick into our bed. Right in front of me. They clawed at each other like I didn't exist. Each time felt like silver shredding through my chest, my wolf howling from the inside out. He did it to hurt me. On purpose. Over and over. Using their bodies to spit on what we used to be. Then came our ten-year anniversary banquet. He waltzed in with his side-piece—Moye. Five years he'd been screwing her. She wore my heels. My custom gown. Even the mate ring and necklace I once thought meant forever. Bruce stood there, smirking in front of the whole pack. "Don't like what she's wearing? Strip yours and hand it over. And don't bother coming to my bed tonight—she's a hundred times better." The room howled with laughter. I was the punchline. But I stood up, met his eyes, and said, "I want to break the bond." He snorted. "You've said that, what, a hundred times? I'm over it. You begged me to mark you, remember? Gave up your pride for that Luna crown." More laughter. But what none of them saw coming? This time, I was done. Done with him. Done with the Luna title. Done chasing something dead. I was ready to sever the mate bond—for real.

My boyfriend of six years, Liam Sherman, proposes to his long-time crush, Vivi Johansen, on my birthday. With that, the passionate love between us is a thing of the past. I come to my senses and distance myself from him, choosing to put our relationship behind us. As such, I decided to go along with the arranged marriage my family has planned.

While my husband was chatting with his friend at the dining table, his friend suddenly spoke in Italian. “You married Lyra to write a pardon letter for River. You’ve been showing more concern toward Lyra, but you’re still lying to her and saying that the contraceptives are antidepressants. Don’t you think Lyra will break down if she learns the truth?” My husband wore a complicated expression as he chuckled bitterly and said, “Why let a child be born if I don’t want it? As for Lyra, so long as she doesn’t interfere with River’s happiness, I’ll keep my promise and protect her for life.” No one knew that I had already learned Italian to keep up with my husband. I stood in the living room with fresh hickeys on my neck. In my hand, I held the “antidepressants” and felt a chill run down my spine. So, my husband’s love for me had been fake? My salvation had actually been a meticulously planned lie? In that case, I would help them fulfill their wishes.

The sole heiress of a wealthy family, Amanita Wallace, had seven prospective husbands, taken in from childhood to potentially wed her one day. All of them fulfilled her every wish, except Marcus Channing, who was cold and mean to her. Due to this, Amanita fell for him and even became his lapdog. Then, one day, she saw him pin his supposed sister against the wall and confess his feelings to her.

My husband, Matthew Lorenzo, dies unexpectedly. Soon after, my in-laws come to me with an outrageous suggestion. "Why not let Matthew’s twin brother take you in and look after you? After all, your child needs a father." My sister-in-law, Felicia Dare, furiously calls me a shameless woman. I turn to look at Matthew's brother, Michael Lorenzo. It's like staring at Matthew's face all over again. The grief hits me hard. Just as I'm about to talk my in-laws out of this ridiculous idea, I overhear a conversation behind the door between them and "Michael". "Michael was the one who died. Why did you lie and let everyone think it was you?" Matthew sighs. "The one I love is Felicia. Faking my death was the only way I could be with her openly. And as for this nonsense about taking Luna in and looking after her—drop it. "As for Luna, I gave her a child and a respectable marriage. I don't owe her anything." I turn around and see my daughter standing there with her eyes red. She asks, "Mommy, does Daddy not want us anymore?" I kneel down, gather her into my arms, and hold back the ache in my chest. "Sweetheart, your uncle just wants to protect the person he loves. We shouldn't disturb him; it's time we start our new life."

I had cancer. And Carl—my boyfriend of seven years—ditched me at the hospital to play fake boyfriend for his so-called best friend, just so she could dodge her parents' marriage pressure. When the results came in, I broke down. Clutching the report, I sobbed as I called him. "Carl, I... I..." My voice cracked. I didn't even know how to say it. I thought he'd comfort me. Instead, his voice came sharp through the phone. "Can you not? Mia's just a friend. What's so wrong about me helping her?—do you have to be so dramatic? I already promised to marry you this month. What more do you want?"

In New York’s Upper East Side, there were two heirs. One was a speed-obsessed daredevil dominating the racetracks, the other was a brilliant actuary who controlled the flow of capital. Born into powerful families and polar opposites in temperament, yet they grew up side by side as each other’s only best friend. They had fought over girls and bickered endlessly over racing bets. However, at fifteen, there was one thing they did in perfect unison. They each put on the same roughly carved bronze badge. They were trinkets Mia had idly made during a craft class, marked only by a faint “M” scratched on the back. Back then, Mia was seated in the last row of the classroom. Her background was a complete mystery to everyone. Yet they wore that badge for ten whole years. Whether standing on the F1 podium or locking in billion-dollar trades at the exchange, the cheap little badge on their chests never changed. Until Ella showed up. She was the cherished daughter of a rising conglomerate family. She hand-stitched two gold-thread fabric patches and gifted them to them. The patches looked so ordinary they looked like the kind of trinket you would find three for a dollar at a flea market. And yet, they both replaced their bronze badges with her plain patches. Mia did not say anything. She simply folded away an old newspaper clipping with a photo of the three of them smiling together. That night, she called her father in Sicily. Her voice was emotionless. “Papa, I accept the marriage arrangement.”