Why Do Manga Readers Often Dog-Ear A Book For Quick Reference?

I don't inform Hunter Nabb when I'm bitten by a rabid dog in the late stages of my pregnancy. Instead, I call the police. Why? Because he got into an accident when he hurried to me in my past life. It killed his junior. He was depressed for a day but quickly bounced back. He cared for me until I recovered. I thought the rumors of amorosity between him and his junior was just a figment of my imagination. However, the day I gave birth, he locked me in a cage, allowing a rabid dog to attack me and the baby. He looked down at me imperiously, his tone cold and ruthless. "You can trick everyone, but not me. Would a dog have bitten you if you hadn't provoked it? Do you know you killed Willow with your dirty tricks? She was pregnant with my child when she died!" When I open my eyes again, I'm taken back to when the rabid dog bites me.

It all started with her dying and some random ass system coming up to her. --- Counterattacking the female lead Yu Meng: Easy, done, everything is solvable with violence. （￣︶￣）↗　 Female lead sacrificing her own best friend Yu Meng: I will put this bitch in her place. (●'◡'●) Boyfriend-male lead dumping the cannon fodder-me for the Bai Yueguang, white moonlight-female lead: Yu Meng: I am clearly way better than those losers, why do I have to pay attention to them? (✿◡‿◡) Destroying the reborn younger-sister with low IQ Yu Meng: My dearest sister, I don't bite. Come hehe (^◕.◕^) Me, the cannon fodder older sister, is accused by the stupid younger-sister female lead who is reborn, of killing her and stealing her life: Yu Meng: Oops, I robbed off your life again, sorry, not sorry ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ Making the cheating couple suffer: Yu Meng: Ew but ugh, can we take a moment to appreciate my Husband? (❁'◡'❁) Fighting with the imperial harem beauties for the Emperor's love: Yu Meng:.... Help, the Emperor's acting weird. ('･ω･')? ------------------- "Husbanddddd, do you still love me?" "You have been asking the same thing for the 10th time this night (╬▔皿▔)╯"

On Christmas Eve, my six-year-old, Yule, was dying from cancer, and all he wanted was a gift from his dad dressed as Santa. I called Peter, my husband, begging him to come. His reply? "Can you stop blowing up my phone? I don't have time for this! I'm helping Tracey find Puffy. Do you know how upset she is?" Oh, Tracey. His first love. And Puffy? Her dog. I told him Yule might not make it through the night. His response? A straight-up dagger: "Don't act like this isn't your fault, Freya. If Yule hadn't kicked Puffy, none of this would've happened. Tomorrow, make sure he apologizes to Tracey." Then he hung up. That night, I sat with Yule, crying as I helped him celebrate his last Christmas. By morning, Peter's social medias were still full of posts about that freaking dog. Mine? Yule's obituary. Ten years of marriage, gone.

Xena Quinn posted in the homeowners' group: “Anyone interested in adopting a puppy? $200 each.” I took her at her word and rushed over to adopt one. When she opened the door and saw me, her expression immediately soured, clearly disgusted. “What? A woman?” She quickly raised the price to $2,000 per puppy, and I was so pissed off I just turned around and walked out. The next day, my boyfriend, Hugo Xavier, bought the dog for the original $200 price. Before I could even process what had happened, the doorbell rang. There she was, standing at the door in a revealing nightgown. “Hugo, are you home? I came to check on the puppy.”

Gina and I were just ordinary werewolves in the Silver Claw Pack. Our incomes were modest, but we married well. Her mate was the captain of the Silver Claw Pack patrol unit. Mine, the fire squad leader. They grew up together—childhood friends—and were the youngest golden duo in the Werewolf Alliance. On the day we married, our mates each bought us a luxury high-rise apartment on the top floor of the central castle, side by side, with the promise of sharing life and death together. That is, until that fateful night. Rogues broke into the central zone. Chaos reached even the upper levels of our building. The tower caught fire. Amidst the thick smoke, I sent a desperate mind-link to my mate. He blocked it. Turns out, both our mates were busy shielding their shared first love, Lifu. They ignored our calls for help. Gina dragged me as we ran. She was six months pregnant; her pup was already kicking from the panic. Her mate never showed up either. We made it to the stairwell, where we were trapped for five hours. Toxic fumes filled our lungs. I went into labor too early. My pup didn't make it. Gina bled for three days in the hospital. Her pup was gone too. Meanwhile, our mates were digging through the wreckage—twenty-four hours straight—searching for Lifu's lost dog. That was it. Right then and there, Gina and I looked at each other and knew. We were done.