Tragic Synonym Novels & Stories

Five years into marriage, Silvia Serra becomes both Dante Valenti's most lethal weapon and his most invisible presence. She shields him from bullets. She crosses a freezing river for him. Her scars accumulate, and his response is an assumption that it is how things are meant to be. In time, Dante grows repulsed by the violence clinging to her. He derides her lack of charm and gives his warmth to another woman instead. He allows others to grind down her dignity, and with a new lover in his arms, he openly stains her name. Silvia tolerates it so she can continue guarding him. Everyone mocks her as if she's numb to it all, driven away again and again, but never truly gone. Then comes the night of pounding rain. Cast aside without ceremony, Silvia erases every sign she was ever there and leaves with finality. Dante treats it as nothing more than sulking, convinced she will return within three days. Later, the once-untouchable Don was seen on his knees at Silvia's feet, stripped of all pride, begging her to turn back and look at him just once.

The day that I divorced my third husband, the system told me that I had completely failed my mission. I had married three times in this world and they were all targets that were supposed to fall for me. But every single one of them chose to divorce me because of Wendy Somerfield. The system pitied me for doing my best for the past 30 years, so it asked me to target my son. It said that if my son could confidently choose me, between me and Wendy, then I could live. However, it was no exception that the son I gave birth to after 40 weeks of pregnancy chose Wendy, just like my three ex-husbands. They all even pinned the cause of Wendy's illness on me. My first husband, who was my childhood sweetheart, pretended to be softhearted, but he was actually ruthless. He actually tried to convince me to donate one of my kidneys to Wendy. My second husband, who I met on a blind date, used a scalpel to personally cut open my body. My third husband, who I fell in love with at first sight, even threatened me with my son. While spitting out blood from my mouth, I agreed to their requests with a smile. However, when they saw me being pushed out of the operating room, those people who turned their backs on me went crazy.

My younger son, who is seven, is bitten by a snake. I take him to my elder son's hospital to be treated. To my surprise, my elder son's girlfriend thinks I'm his mistress. Not only does she stop the medical personnel from treating my younger son, but she even slaps me. "My boyfriend and I are a perfect match. How dare you bring your illegitimate son here to challenge me!" She pins me to the floor as she pummels and harms me. She even screeches, "A slut like you will only stop going around seducing others once you're incapable of it!" I'm bruised, battered, and bleeding as I'm wheeled into the emergency room. My elder son handles the operation. His hand trembles as he clutches his scalpel, and he looks ashen. "Who did this to you, Mom?"

Everyone knew that Alpha Eric loved his human Luna above all else. Every full moon, his wolf went into a frenzy. He needed to having sex with mate to relieve the agony. But as a human, I couldn't withstand his Alpha power. So, every month, he sent me to a cabin at the foot of the mountain. He would always say tenderly, "I'm afraid I'll lose control and hurt you. I don't want you to see me like a monster." Every she-wolf in the Pack envied me for having such a devoted Alpha. I used to think so, too. Until I traded ten years of my life with the Witch for Moonlight Herb—a rare herb capable of soothing an Alpha's full moon frenzy. I stood outside the bedroom door, only to hear him having sex with Victoria, the Beta's daughter. "Alpha... aren't I better than that fragile human?" Victoria cooed. "Can she even handle you?" "Shut up! Don't talk about her!" Eric growled from inside. "Finish and get out. Don't be here when she gets back." I froze. It turned out that for the past two years, he had found a better antidote for every full moon. After that night, Victoria fell pregnant with pureblood Alpha twin heirs. He explained to me, guiltily and cautiously, "My mother used IVF to get Victoria pregnant. As soon as the babies are born, I'll send her away. We can raise them together, okay?" I smiled and nodded. Then, I turned around, threw the Moonlight Herb into the trash can, and made a call. "Pick me up in two days." But the moment I left, the powerful Alpha went mad.

My husband and I go on a road trip back to my hometown before Christmas. I want to ride shotgun, but he chases me to the backseat so his female colleague can sit in front. He says, "Isabel gets carsick easily. You are my wife, so you should be more considerate of her." He seems to have forgotten that I'm pregnant—my morning sickness is at its peak. Halfway through the journey, he and Isabel Slater start smoking. They make me throw up. The smell disgusts them, and my husband wants to teach me a lesson. He and Isabel leave me at the rest stop. Unbeknownst to them, my family is already waiting there. This time, I'm going back with them and getting an abortion and divorce. Later, my husband is filled with regret when he learns the child is gone.

My CEO husband developed a strange illness. His heart chose me, but his body chose his intern. He would vanish for ten days every month to see his intern for "treatment." “Zoe, the doctor says it’s a physiological dependency. My body chose Molly, but you’re the one I truly love, now and always!” To make me believe him, he swore vicious oaths and even went so far as to hurt himself to prove his love. My eyes burned red, but in the end, I softened. It wasn't until I was late in my pregnancy, when a falling billboard struck me and I miscarried. I called my husband again and again, but he never picked up. Then, moments later, I saw the intern’s post online. The caption wrote: [Unlocked a new identity: Mom. From now on, we’re a happy family of three!] In the photo, my husband looked at her with gentle affection. His hand rested on her belly and her prenatal report clutched in his other hand. That was when I realized the one his heart and body had chosen all along was her. At that moment, I knew our marriage was over.

On my coming-of-age ceremony, the pack elder has given me two choices—either marry Alpha Darius Vilkas, or enter a marriage alliance with the Solaris Pack. I choose the latter. Everyone in the Silvermoon Pack thinks I've gone nuts. After all, they know very well that I've been clinging to Darius for more than ten years. Every year, I make the same birthday wish, which is to become his mate. In my previous life, I got what I wanted. On the night of the full moon, Darius bit me on my nape and marked me. But Darius, who kept up a gentle and polite image in front of others, glared at me with only hatred brimming in his eyes behind locked doors. "If it wasn't for your shameless request to the elder, who forced me into mating with you, Ingrid wouldn't have entered that marriage alliance!" Only then did I realize that Darius was in love with my younger sister, Ingrid Whiteclaw, this whole time. In order to get revenge on me, Darius slept with various she-wolves every night. He made me endure the heartwrenching pain through our mate bond. On the day I was meant to go into labor, Darius personally fed me wolfsbane, which killed both me and my pup. Now that I'm reborn, I decide to grant his wish to be with Ingrid. But when he finds out that I'm about to enter the marriage alliance, he goes crazy from rage.

In the tenth year of being Don Vitelli’s sugar baby, the most reckless man alive was ready to change his ways for a good girl. On my twenty‑eighth birthday, he told me it would be our last time together and prepared an entire box of protection. I opened one of the wrappers and asked casually who that good girl was. Caino Vitelli leaned against the headboard and released a slow ring of smoke. “Your sister. I don’t even know how I fell for her. “That little fool can barely breathe after we kiss. She’s as pure as they come.” His tone sounded like a complaint, yet his eyes held a smile. The wrapper slipped from my hand. I stared at him, unable to move. Why her, of all people?

I had always been a people pleaser. Yet somehow, I ended up transmigrating into the role of the vicious wife of a general. After three years away at war, Scott Holden returned and brought his so-called true love back with him. I handed over the main bedroom without hesitation, cooked for her myself, stayed up all night stitching a pair of matching pillows, and even had all the staff lined up to welcome her properly. But instead of being pleased, Jennifer Cross burst into tears. "This is all my fault. I have no name, no status, yet I'm staying here at Holden Residence, letting Lillian humiliate me like this. If that's the case, I'll just leave!" It hit me all at once. So that was what she wanted. A proper title. So I drafted a divorce letter for Scott myself, brought it to him, and said with an ingratiating smile, "After you divorce me, could you maybe keep me on the side as a mistress? My parents are gone. I don't have anywhere else to go." Scott flew into a rage. "I see right through your little tricks. Jennifer is just staying here temporarily. Are you really that petty?" From that day on, he never set foot in my room again. Then one day, enemy forces attacked. Jennifer and I were both captured and strung up on the city wall, forcing Scott to choose between us. Before he could even decide, I shouted eagerly, "I'll die, I'll die! I'm totally willing! I love that rush you get from falling from high up, that adrenaline spike!" After all, once I died, I could finally go home. But for the first time, Scott's eyes turned red with panic.

For five years, I thought our marriage was solid. Then, my husband, Lionel Franco’s first love, Sandra Howard, posted a photo of a property deed on her social media. The caption read: [Thank you, Lionel, for transferring the house to me.] I stared in disbelief and left a single comment: [WTF?] Lionel called within minutes. “She’s a struggling single mother. Transferring the house to her makes it easier for her son to get into school. It doesn’t affect where we live,” he snapped. “How can you be so lacking in compassion?” In the background, I heard her muffled sobs. Half an hour later, she tagged me in another post.  This time, she flaunted her Mercedes worth over a million dollars, with the caption: [Paid in full. As the saying goes, ‘Where a man spends his money, that's where his heart is’.] I knew he bought it to soothe her temper. But this time, I had enough. I decided to divorce him.