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On the day of my wedding with my girlfriend, I was unexpectedly informed by the hotel that our ceremony had to be postponed by a couple of hours. With no time to notify relatives and friends of the change, I had to rush to the hotel entrance to intercept guests. Upon arriving, I was stopped at the door by security, who told me that a wedding was currently taking place inside. The host's voice could be heard as I saw my girlfriend, wearing a veil, smiling and extending her hand to a man who was half-kneeling. In the audience, all the bride's relatives who were supposed to attend our wedding were seated, clapping and cheering. The man on stage was her dream guy and also my current superior. Seeing me causing a commotion, my girlfriend warned me, "I'm just helping out. Alex is your superior. I'm also doing this to help you. Don't cause any trouble." Just helping out? I had booked the wedding venue, chosen the time, designed the wedding dress, and personally sent out the invitations. How could a wedding be rearranged so suddenly? I looked coldly at the ring box the man was holding. "It seems my taste is quite similar to my yours. If that's the case, this diamond ring is yours, including the wife." My girlfriend finally panicked.

My husband had a severe addiction for physical intimacy. However, in the seven years of our marriage, he never touched me, not even once. To suppress his urges, he soaked himself in bone-chilling ice water every night. His arms were covered in needle marks from constant injections. It broke my heart to see him like that. I offered myself to him many times, but he insisted on simply giving me a restrained kiss on the forehead before saying, “Don’t be silly, Summer. I’m not like those animals. How could I ever bear to hurt you? For you, I’d gladly live the rest of my life in a platonic marriage.” This strange, almost obsessive restraint of his lasted seven years. Despite the numerous times he pushed himself far enough to end up hospitalized, he still refused to cross that line. Then, on our wedding anniversary, a young woman named Anna Brandt came in for her ninth hymen restoration surgery. After the anesthetic was administered, her cheeks flushed red. As her mind grew hazy, she started crying weakly like a lost kitten. Looking at the love bites scattered across her body, I shook my head and assumed she was just another girl who had gone astray. That was until I heard her last tearful whisper. “John Shaw, you jerk.” My hand trembled and I nearly dropped the scalpel. Because my husband’s name also was John Shaw.

On Alaric's wedding day, I brought a gift to the wedding feast. I had barely taken my seat when someone swung straight at my face. Alaric's bride, a transmigrator who called herself an expert in noble-household intrigue, glared at me in her wedding gown. "So you're the prince's former betrothed? How does a defeated rival still have the nerve to show up at the wedding feast? Have you no shame?" A palace maid caught her hand before the slap landed, and I studied her with a dark expression. Before I could speak, Lydia of House Leicester mocked me again. "What? Are you going to say you only came to offer your blessings? I grew up watching period dramas. Don't think I don't know what filthy thoughts a medieval woman like you is hiding. "You came here pretending to congratulate us while planning to ruin the wedding feast and make the prince change his mind, didn't you? Too bad Alaric promised me that I would be his only wife for life. Even if you were to strip naked and stand in front of him, he wouldn't touch you!" Then she raised her brow at the women behind her. The noblewomen and ladies who were friendly with her surrounded me, scorn on their faces. Then they reached out to slap me. "Exactly, you wench! How dare you provoke Princess Lydia? We'll make you pay for it today!" The courtyard fell into chaos. Insults and jeers came one after another. Just as the women were about to grab my hair, the chief steward Edwin quickly stood in front of me and shouted, "Enough! I would like to see who dares to show disrespect to the Grand Princess of this realm, Her Royal Highness Princess Sophia!"

I'm rejected after asking for my boyfriend's hand in marriage for the 99th time. To my devastation, he turns and proposes to my best friend. I storm over to his office to demand an answer, but I hear them making out. My boyfriend says, "Don't worry. She offered herself to me in bed several times, but I've never touched her." I head home and trash the place. When I run out of strength, I make a call. "I'll marry you, Spencer." Since the man I chose doesn't love me, I'll now go for someone who does.

After her boyfriend cheated on her, Ruth got into a shotgun wedding. Her new husband was handsome, good-tempered, and gentle. Unfortunately, he was dirt poor. That’s fine. She can earn money. All the people in her circle laughed at her for getting herself a nobody who only had a pretty face and no job. But then, the pretty boy turned out to be from the richest family and be the most powerful man in the Imperial City. He was the richest man in Sommerset!This stunned everyone, including Ruth. When Ruth remembered the monthly allowance she gave him, she flew into a rage. “Abel Blakewell, how could you be so shameless?! This is a love scam!”Meanwhile, Abel just cooed at her. “You can just scam me back. Call me honey, and I’ll transfer all of my property to you.”

My boyfriend suddenly posted something on his Instagram. [I’ve offered my body and soul to the country.] I was about to ask what he meant when he sent me a plane ticket to the northwest. He explained that the mission was confidential and that he could not be in contact with me during this time. Ten months passed. He was supposed to be away, but he came home unexpectedly and caught me at a prenatal checkup. When he saw my eight-month-pregnant belly, his face turned pale with anger. “I’ve been gone for ten months. How are you pregnant?” I shrugged and said, “Weren’t you supposed to be gone for three years? Why are you back after just ten months?”