Who Is Nina In Sett: The Starry Bride?

On the day of Charles Green’s birthday party, he put a diamond ring on Lilu Ximmer’s finger. Lilu stared at the ring and felt flattered. “Charles, are you really going to divorce her and marry me?” Charles raised an eyebrow in amusement. “I’m single.” We had been married for three years, but Charles, my husband, never once acknowledged me as his wife. It was because I caused his sister’s death. If I had not held Charles back and refused to let him go, perhaps his sister could have been saved. That was why I was the reason for his sister’s death. I always thought that he hated me, until one day…

The letters in "LIFE" are more to what we read meaning to, than they are. These are Nina's words when she steps beyond the boundaries that she thinks she couldn't. "How can I return to my husband's house without being recognized by him?" Well, Discover "The real me" in Nina's Story

Stephen was getting hit by a shoe in the morning by his mother and his father shouting at him "When were you planning to tell us that you are engaged to this girl" "I told you I don't even know her, I met her yesterday while was on my way to work" "Excuse me you propose to me when I saved you from drowning 13 years ago," said Antonia "What?!? When did you drown?!?" said Eliza, Stephen's mother "look woman you got the wrong person," said Stephen frustratedly "Aren't you Stephen Brown?" "Yes" "And your 22 years old and your birthdate is March 16, am I right?" "Yes" "And you went to Vermont primary school in Vermont" "Yes" "Well, I don't think I got the wrong person, you are my fiancé" ‘Who is this girl? where did she come from? how did she know all these informations about me? and it seems like she knows even more than that. Why is this happening to me? It's too dang early for this’ thought Stephen

Meet Nina! Nina was pretty, fierce yet sweet. She was shy, yet so easy to get along with. The thing about Nina was that she had an easy-going attitude to life making it a breeze for anyone who wanted to approach her. Her life was a simple one, so perfect for her. That was until her perfect life crashed, with everything she had known, everything she had planned taken from her as she was forced out of her English city home and thrown into the American cowboy fevered town of Samsonville, Texas. The town that was filled with cowboys, ranches and intriguing boys who kept a secret, a secret that she has no way of running from. I mean how could she? Werewolves where fast creatures and once they set sights on their pray the pray was theirs for keeps.

Eight years ago, she sent the most dangerous man in New York to prison. Eight years later, he sat in a Cadillac parked by the Brooklyn Bridge, a cold smile on his face as he said, “A woman like you deserves to be alone.” No one knew she was sick with Alzheimer’s. It had gotten so bad that she could not even remember the way home. Yet, she remembered his face. She remembered every word he had ever said to her. She even remembered the star named “Christine.” On the first page of her diary, the same sentence was written over and over again. “Vincent Medici is the most important person in this world. No matter who I forget, I must never forget Vincent Medici.” She waited for him for eight years, but in the end, what she got was his indifference, news of his wedding, and him saying to her that someone like her did not deserve to be loved. She didn’t argue. Instead, on the last page of her diary, she quietly wrote, “That’s okay. I’m going to be with my mom now.” Amidst the five thousand streets in New York, he never found her again after that.

On the day that was supposed to be my wedding—the bride wasn’t me. The ceremony I’d waited for five years for turned into a joke when Valentina, my sister, walked down the marble aisle in a white wedding dress. Her arm was linked with Luca’s — the man who was supposed to be waiting for me at the altar. “I’m sorry, Bianca,” she said softly. “But you are no longer the bride today.” Then she touched her stomach, eyes gleaming with triumph. “I’m pregnant with Don Romano’s child.” Her words detonated inside my skull, and the whole world went silent. As if afraid I wouldn’t believe her, she lifted something glossy up towards the light. A black-and-white ultrasound image. It read clearly: Gestational age — 12 weeks. My eyes burned, tears stinging as I turned to Luca, desperately searching for anything—a denial, an explanation, regret. Instead, he only sighed, weary and resigned. “Bianca, I’m sorry.” he said helplessly. “Valentina doesn’t have much time left. This wedding… it was her last wish.” “I’ll make it up to you,” he added. “We can have another wedding later.” My father, Moretti, stood behind him, wearing the same stern expression he’d worn my entire life. I have never seen him smile at me, not even once. “Bianca,” he said sharply, “Your sister is dying. Let her have this.” My brother nodded without saying a single word, as if that was enough to be a solid answer. All my life, they had chosen her—her tears, her whims, her needs—over mine. Today was no different. Something inside me quietly cracked. Fine. If no one in this family cares about me, I’ll leave.