What Are The Key Lessons In 'So…This Is Why I'M Broke'?

The housekeeper, who was always punctual, was late today. "Madam, I'm so sorry… dinner isn't ready yet. Please don't be upset with me…" "But this time, there was no helping it. I waited downstairs for over half an hour, and no one swiped in. I even called Mr. Gregory, but he didn't answer. That's why I'm late." My hand froze mid-motion as I was changing shoes, and a frown creased my brow. "Lydia," I said, "didn't I have Richard give you the access card?" Lydia Pendel froze, her face blank. "Access card? Mr. Gregory never gave me one." "Never?" I repeated. "Yes," she said, wiping the sweat from her forehead, her voice careful. "All this past month, I've been sneaking in whenever another resident opened the door, or calling Mr. Gregory so he could let me in. "Today, Mr. Gregory didn't answer at all, so I was stuck downstairs, feeling helpless…" That was strange. Because over the past month, the electronic lock on the front gate had clearly recorded swipes from that backup card.

My usually cold and distant wife shared a bowl of soup with her newly joined colleague. Surprisingly, I felt calm, even as I brought up divorce. She sneered at me, "Don't be ridiculous. I'm exhausted. He's just a colleague of mine." "Even if we're married, you have no right to interfere with what I do with my colleagues." "If that's what you think, then I can't help you." When I actually put the divorce papers in front of her, she flew into a rage. "Ryan, do you think the Wagners were still what they used to be? You're nothing without me!"

The new junior researcher in our lab destroyed my antigen. Because of that, I could not submit my thesis. I lost my chance to study abroad. Three years of work gone, just like that. I was furious. I wanted to call the police, to have it investigated, to make sure she was held responsible. However, my fiancé stood in front of her, shielding her, and turned on me instead. "It's just a small experiment," he said. "Is it really worth making such a big deal out of it?" I nodded. "Of course," I said calmly. "After all, it was only an antigen that could treat your lupus. Definitely not worth making a fuss over." He froze on the spot.

* "Marry Me! Stranger." I shout for the whole hall to hear and I pull him in for a deep kiss to the loud gasp of my supposed adopted parents at their first daughter's wedding. What is she doing?! Master cannot be kissed by just anybody! He'll have allergic reactions almost killing him! But what is he doing? He's holding her waist and pulling her further and kissing her back! * Samantha Stiles, denied of her marriage to her long time lover and boyfriend by a well planned and executed scheme by her mother and sister who claims to the world she is adopted, but a fact which remains unknown whether it's a lie or truth. Claude Whyte, a mega trillionaire who recently came to New York to attend an acquaintances wedding but a series of events which include a nightstand and a public proposal is making him stay back. For someone who can't kiss or touch just anybody, he seems quite comfortable with that cheeky woman kissing him in the public.

My husband, Francis Zouche, thought we weren't well-off and could not afford to raise a child. So, he forcibly took me to the hospital to get an abortion. Right after the surgery, I discovered that he had transfered 200 thousand dollars to his first love, Heidi Colman, for her birthday. Out of pure rage, I got into a huge fight with him in the car, which led to an accident that killed us both. When I opened my eyes, we had returned to the day before our wedding. In our previous life, we were married for ten years. We weathered storms and supported each other, but Francis never wanted us to have a child of our own. On the day I died, I finally understood that the one he loved was Heidi. After getting a second shot at life, I decided to fulfill his wish. We canceled the wedding, blocked each other's phone numbers, and never contacted each other again. Eight years later, Francis became a top lawyer in Alvren and publicly proposed to Heidi at a law forum. Seeing that I was still single, he mocked me with a sneer, "Yvette, I know you loved me for two lifetimes. But I am getting married now. Don't keep waiting for me to come back to you." I glanced at him wordlessly and bent down to pick up my daughter before walking away. As a shocking realization hit him, his eyes reddened. He questioned furiously, "Didn't you promise to love me forever and to only give birth to my children?"

When Alexander Smith stands in front of me and says he's going to marry someone else, that's when I realize he's been reborn too. I remember our 20 years of love in our past life. A plane crash. And then, rebirth. "This is to save Sophia," he says. "In our past life, she was sold to a Vostmark oligarch after her father's political scandal. Not long after, she took her own life due to abuse. I can't let that tragedy happen again, so I need to get engaged to her." As he speaks, he hands me an orange prescription bottle. "If you take this, you'll forget me for a little while. You won't feel the pain. It's just seven days. Once her father's scandal blows over, you'll stop the medication and your memory will return. Then I'll end the engagement and officially propose to you." I stare at the bottle, knowing it's a lie. Not the part about Sophia's suicide. The lie is about the drug. He thinks it only causes temporary memory loss. But I know better. The suppressant causes permanent damage to emotional memory. The seven-day countdown isn't the time it takes for my memories to return. It's the time it takes for my love for him to die.