Can You Explain The Ending Of Malala Yousafzai: Shot By The Taliban?

On the day of my wedding, I was stabbed, left to die... and forgotten. While I bled in my wedding dress, my fiancé married my sister. And my adoptive family, the people who I thought loved me never even looked for me. They all moved on like I never existed. I thought my world had ended. But I refused to stay a victim. Benjamin Grey, CEO of Grey Global found me, saved me, and helped me rise again. When I thought I would get my revenge, I found out that my biological mother who had been missing for fifteen years was alive, and held captive by my adoptive parents. The more I try to find peace, the more trouble comes in. And I wished I had died that day. Maybe death would've been easier than living with everything I now know. Maybe I won't have to face all these traumas. But life had other plans.

Previously known as: I'll never forgive you Maryam Junaid, a pious, confident young Muslimah who lost her parents in a fire at the age of ten. As the little girl wandered the dangerous streets of New York, she was kidnapped and somehow ended up in the foster home of the Mehmoods. At the young age o

My daughter was violated and killed, yet her death was ruled a suicide. After seven failed appeals, I kidnapped the chief prosecutor’s daughter. I tied the chief prosecutor’s daughter to an autopsy table and publicly addressed the prosecutor’s office in a live stream. “I performed the autopsy myself. My daughter didn’t kill herself. She was murdered. “I’ll give you seven chances. Release the actual evidence and name the murderer publicly. Each time a chance runs out, I’ll remove one of her body parts.” The chief prosecutor and his wife knelt on the floor. They begged me desperately to spare their daughter. “The evidence proves your daughter took her own life. Stop this madness now and let my daughter go. She’s innocent.” Viewers in the live stream called me insane. They said I had lost my mind with grief and was taking it out on an innocent person. I ignored their contempt. With a sneer, I picked up a scalpel and pressed it against the judge’s daughter’s abdomen. “The clock is ticking. Hurry up and reveal the true murderer now.” I knew perfectly well the real murderer was watching the stream at that very moment.

My older sister, Holly Keller, is studying in the public library for her SATs when a stray bullet hits her. Blood pours from the wound. Instead of stopping, I quicken my pace, walking right past her and acting like I haven't seen a thing. It was because, in my past life, I took her to the hospital as soon as the accident happened. The gunshot to her head caused severe intracranial bleeding, and she needed surgery right away. I called our mom, who happened to be the top neurosurgeon in the city. And I begged her to get to the hospital as fast as possible. But she assumed I'm just being jealous because she had taken my adopted brother on a trip instead of spending time with me. Assuming that I was making the whole thing up to ruin their trip, she flat-out refused to come back. By the time Dad and the rest of the family arrived at the hospital, Holly was already gone despite the doctors' best efforts. The entire family blamed me for Holly's death. They believed I had deliberately misled Mom just to screw up Holly's chances of getting treated in time. When Mom finally rushed back from out of town, she completely lost it. She shoved me down the stairs and watched as I bleed to death. When I open my eyes again, I'm back to the day Holly is shot in the library.

When war broke out in Irestan, my fiancé, Everett Jones, caused a scene at the airport and refused to let the evacuation flight take off. He was determined to wait for his precious first love, Annie Scott, who had taken advantage of the chaos to loot a cosmetics counter for luxury goods. By then, the insurgent forces were already closing in. The shriek of explosions grew louder, drawing nearer by the second. With an entire plane full of people in mortal danger, I had no choice. I knocked Everett unconscious and dragged him aboard. After we returned home, far from the battlefield, we lived a period of quiet, comfortable happiness. I truly believed he had finally put that woman behind him. I was wrong. On our wedding day, he tied me up, drove me away, and deliberately crashed the car, killing me. As my life slipped away, I heard his twisted laughter. "Daniela, you're the one who killed my Annie. Because of you, she was killed by an insurgent missile. "She was just a young girl who liked to look pretty. What was so wrong with that? "This is what you owe her. I'm going to make you suffer far more than she ever did." When I opened my eyes again, I was back at the boarding gate, at the exact moment he blocked the plane. This time, I chose to grant his wish and let him stay behind with his beloved first love, together, forever.

My sister-in-law, Alicia, insisted that her son was a chosen fighter, blessed by God and immune to harm. The truth was far darker: every injury meant for him was being transferred onto my daughter. His congenital heart disease disappeared overnight. While most children his age were still carefully protected, he was already taking part in extreme sports and never suffered so much as a scratch. Meanwhile, my once-healthy daughter weakened day by day. She began to suffer unexplained fractures throughout her body. There was not a single place left uninjured. It was impossible not to see the connection. When I voiced my suspicions to my husband, Jeff Charlton, and my mother-in-law, Kelly Freeman, they dismissed me as delusional. They accused me of being jealous that Alicia had given birth to a prodigy, while I had nothing but a "worthless" daughter. Later, Alicia's son completed a trek across the Saharain Desert and became an overnight sensation, a child star adored by millions. At the same time, my daughter suddenly collapsed from heatstroke and died without warning. Alicia went live on her platform, accusing me of making false claims out of envy. Her followers believed every word. They hunted me down and ended my life. When I opened my eyes again, I found myself back at the moment Alicia first proclaimed her son a miracle child. This time, I was no longer a powerless mother. As a specialist doctor, I calmly pulled on my gloves. "Alicia," I said with a smile, "Let me examine my nephew and see if he's truly cured."