What Happens In The Ending Of 'A Little Spot Of Anxiety'?

“You’re pretty, but I don’t like ungrateful little boys, bébé.” He informed, clicking his tongue, and pinching my nipple. A moan escaped my lips before I could stop it. What is wrong with me? “So you do love my touch, Ivan.” He teased in satisfaction, his eye’s darkened in lust. My body trembled from his intense stare on my body. Pretty, Bébé, and the stares. He wasn’t straight. “You’re…into men.” I stuttered in realization. He shook his head in response, spinning me around. “No, Ivan. I like naive little boys like you.” He admitted, his eyes lowering to my groin. “How about you?” His eyes were fixed on my groin, “You don’t look that straight to me.” Cristiano Vito is known for his ruthlessness in the underworld, but there was one secret they didn’t know—He’s not straight. What happens when he is being forced to marry a woman against his wish? He detests the idea, and fights against it, but Ivan Hernandez—his fiancée brother changes his mind. Cristiano is determined to have him as his new toy, and agrees to marrying Mia to get closer to Ivan. But the problem? Ivan wasn’t into men or was he?

Joy Jones was a seventeen-year-old kind and optimistic girl working in her grandpa's flower shop, but she had a secret. She was suffering from acute lymphoblastic leukaemia and wanted nothing, but to die peacefully. That was until Logan Kellerman, a young man with suicidal tendencies came storming into her life and stole roses from her grandpa's flower shop. Instead of running away with what he came for, he found himself falling deeper and deeper into her as she made his heart skip in delight, for she was, in her own words, a little bit of Joy.

On the first night of our graduation trip, the class representative, Gordon Perkins, suggests that we draw lots in order to get our rooms assigned to us. "Let fate decide the pairs who get to stay in the same room as long as they have the same number, regardless of their gender! Imagine how exciting this is!" Throughout my four-year college life, Ivan Decker and I have been in a relationship for three of those years. No one knows about our relationship, though. I pull out a ball from the box and await my partner. When it's Ivan's turn, he draws out a ball with the number seven. Gordon raises his voice immediately. "The other lucky person who gets to stay in room seven is… Rebecca Benson!" Rebecca, the young woman whom Ivan has pursued in a high-profile manner in the past, goes bright red. Everyone cheers on them right away, claiming that Lady Fate really wants them to be together. But I'm the only one who stays silent. No one knows that I've heard Gordon secretly tell Ivan something before it's time to draw lots. "Look for the ball with the raised dot. I specially saved those ones for you and Rebecca." As I look at Ivan, who walks over to Rebecca and picks up her suitcase for her with a soft smile, I find myself smiling as well. It turns out that Ivan never plans on making our relationship official despite having waited for him for three years. This time, I decide to be the one who leaves first.

The third year after I got diagnosed with intermittent amnesia, I happened to overhear my husband, Lucien Rook, chatting with his friends. “Lucien, Anneliese loses her memories every couple of months, and you keep making us impersonate you to live with her. Aren’t you afraid that one of us might take it all the way one day?” “What’s there to be afraid of?” Lucien laughed uninhibitedly, swishing the alcohol in his glass. “Annie is cold and distant. As long as you guys don’t tempt her, she won’t have any such desires. “But I’m warning you now. You can act all you want, but you can’t ever sleep with her. Once I’ve had my fun, I will be going home to her.” For three years, every time I lost my memories, Lucien was not the one who would hold my hand and embrace me, or even sleep with me in the same bed. In three years, I had lost my memories nine times, and nine men had pretended to be my husband. What they did not know was that my amnesia had been cured two years ago.

I see her in his arms. Adrian’s hand is at her waist, and she’s looking up at him like he hasn’t spent years breathing the same air as her without ever earning that look. My fingers curl around my glass. Then he says something. I don’t hear it. I don’t need to. Because Wren… giggles. My world tilts. I’ve heard her laugh before—sharp, defiant. But this was different. And it was not for me. Rage claws up my throat, aimed straight at Adrian. I shouldn’t care. Except I do. I fucking do. Then Wren stumbles. Adrian catches her, pulls her back—and their lips collide. Just a peck. Clearly accidental. But it detonates inside me. Something snaps. The glass slips from my hand, shattering, and all I see is red. My body moves before my mind can catch up. Because suddenly, it all crashes into place. Her silence. The loss. It felt like I’d lost something I didn’t even know I was holding onto. And I was the one who did it. My pranks. My cruelty. I was the reason her scholarship got revoked! God! A bitter taste floods my mouth. She cut me off because she had every right to. Because I deserved it. But that doesn’t mean I can let her go. It doesn’t mean I will. If it takes groveling, I’ll grovel. If it takes begging, I’ll beg. Hell, if it takes dropping to my knees in front of this entire fucking college and tearing my pride apart piece by piece just to earn a fraction of her forgiveness. Because she matters. I don’t care about anything except her slipping out of my reach. And I’m ready to burn everything down for her.

After five years of marrying into the Loween City in place of my sister, the Gambling King finally passed away. My son and my ex-husband—at long last—gave me permission to fake my death and return to them. But they laid down three conditions. First: kneel before Vivian Gray, apologize for framing her all those years ago, and surrender my place as Mrs. Hartwell. Second: work as a live-in maid for my own son for five years, and never show up at his school in my former identity as the reigning queen of the nightlife scene—lest I embarrass him. Third: drink an abortifacient to destroy my fertility forever, as recompense for the infertility I once caused Vivian. "My lady, you've endured five whole years just to earn your freedom—how dare they humiliate you like this?" My maid's eyes were red, burning with indignation on my behalf. But I just tipped my head back and swallowed the death-faking pill, letting the servants toss my "corpse" into the overgrown brambles beyond the city limits. Then, from the mud and weeds, I crawled back to the Hartwell mansion—one knee at a time. Day one, I knelt as ordered and signed over custody of my son without a fight. Day three, I locked myself in the storage closet and stopped showing up at school to pick my son up like I used to. I also stopped pestering him to call me "Mom." Even when Vivian—knowing full well I'm terrified of the dark—deliberately trapped me in the basement, I bore it in silence. By the time my ex-husband Nathan Hartwell saw me again, I was barely hanging on. For the first time, a flicker of panic crossed his face as he carried me out of that basement. But my son just sneered. "It's just another stunt to win our sympathy." When he caught the tears welling in Vivian's eyes, Nathan coldly dropped me to the ground. "Always scheming against Vivian with your dirty tricks—aren't you tired of it?" Right then, the system chimed in my ear: [Please proceed to the "disposable ex-wife death node" to complete the story line and return to your original world.] I let out a quiet laugh. "Not tired at all." And with that, I turned and dove straight into the swimming pool beside me.