Why Do People Cry Or Get Emotional During Audiobooks?

I've developed a fever all of a sudden. But that's when I hear the thoughts belonging to my Alpha mate, Alder Garrison, whom I've bonded to for five years. His voice is husky and attractive, and yet the tone he adapts is very unfamiliar to me. [She's pulling the pity card again. How annoying.] My breath hitches in my chest as I look up at Alder. He's in the middle of pouring me a glass of water, his gaze seemingly gentle beneath the light. His lips aren't moving at all, and yet I'm very sure that I heard his voice just now. When Alder helps me to sit up so that he can feed me the medicine, I purse my lips together before speaking up, albeit hesitantly. "Alpha Alder, I think I'm hearing things all of a sudden. Can you please accompany me to a healer's station tomorrow?" Alder is quick to envelope me into a hug and comfort me. "Shh… I'm here. You'll be fine." But his thoughts sing an entirely different tune. [Ugh… She's doing it again. Can she stop pestering me already?] I no longer utter another word. All I feel is my heart slowly going cold in despair.

I'm the strongest warrior of the Silvermoon Pack. For ten years, I've been secretly in love with my Alpha, Aiden. The only wolfless Alpha. We grew up with nothing but each other. I bled for him. I cut down his enemies and searched for a cure to awaken his wolf. He promised me a place at the top—always by his side. The fated mate bond never snapped into place for us. It didn't matter. I loved him anyway. Then I found out the truth. His heart belonged to someone else. A she-wolf named Gianna. When a rival pack kidnapped her, Aiden sent me to get her back. I did, but I died. And so did my wolf. He welcomed Gianna home with open arms, ready for their Mating Ceremony, but he refused to believe I was dead. He thought I was just jealous, hiding in a fit of rage. He even ordered my banishment. But on the night of the full moon, as the entire pack gathered for their Alpha’s ceremony, my second-in-command crashed the altar in his war truck. He walked toward Aiden, carrying my blood-soaked body. Aiden’s body trembled. He collapsed to his knees, clutching his chest in agony. "I can feel it. The mate bond…it’s breaking. Rhea was my fated mate... How can she be dead?!"

As the male lead, Henry Johnston, forces himself on me, a row of comments suddenly appears before my eyes. "Henry is about to misunderstand and think Aria drugged him! The angst is about to begin!" "I'm thrilled just thinking about Henry regretting dearly after Aria dies!" "Keep up the act, Henry. After she dies, you'll be hugging her corpse and crying every day." That is when I realize that I am the tragic female lead in a story where I am destined to be tormented until I die. The readers treat my death as a highlight to push the plot forward. They are counting down to my death. As I look at Henry, who is panting on top of me, anger courses through me. I grab a table lamp and smash it into him, killing him on the spot. Who says that the one who dies in a toxic romance story must always be the female lead?

The day Kris Flynn forced me to sign the divorce papers, a self-destruction system wired itself into my brain. The system ordered, [Slap him hard. Then, tell him to get out.] It startled me. Kris was ruthless by nature. If I dared to get in the way of him getting back together with his first love, he would make my life a living hell. Unfortunately, the system threatened me. [If you don’t start sabotaging your life this instant, you’ll die right now.] Without any choice, I slapped him. Fear overtook me as soon as I did it. I bolted straight out of the house. Then, the system gave me a command to smash a police car by the roadside. I was convinced the system was trying to get me killed. However, after I shattered the police car’s side mirror, I realized something. It was not my life that the system wanted me to ruin.

Everyone in the circle called me the chatty woman around Wilson Lewis, who had poor hearing and was notoriously aloof. I would stand up for him, take drinks on his behalf, and accompany him to the hospital. When he had to get his hearing aid adjusted, I would crouch beside the table to replace its batteries for him, yet he never so much as looked up at me. One time, I drank on his behalf until I was dead drunk at a wine party, but he only glanced down at me calmly. Another time, I spent the entire morning waiting with him on the day of his follow-up checkup, but he texted his unattainable love, Noelle Surrey, instead. Wilson: [Have you eaten lunch yet?] During our three years of marriage, I became a joke in the eyes of others. On the night of our wedding anniversary, he wanted to make things up for the birthday celebration he owed me. When I was being dragged away through the back alley of a convenience store, I saw him sitting in the Maybach parked at the alley entrance through the half-open car window, unboxing a cake. I screamed until my throat bled, my fingernails digging into the wall. He glanced up at the alleyway entrance, took off his hearing aid, and put it in his pocket. When I got home in the wee hours, he was still helping Noelle with her resume. Seeing my disheveled state, he just frowned and said, "Jaclyn Scott, can you please stop making such a scene every time?" Noelle chuckled on the other end of the phone. "Wilson, is she playing victim again?" I pushed the divorce papers and a USB drive in front of him. "Wilson, I'm done making a scene. This time, it's your turn to listen."

On our third wedding anniversary, Kent gave me a gift. A black metal wristband. Cold. Sleek. He called it a new product from his company—a pain-sharing system. The other user was Violet. His "girl bro." The person he was closer to than his own sister. Kent brushed a hand over my cheek, his gaze soft. "Clara, you're too coddled. You should learn from Violet. She's tough." Then he snapped the wristband onto my wrist. So while Violet got a full-back tattoo and an entire sleeve, I felt every single needle. When Violet went wingsuit flying, I collapsed at home. Every bone in my body felt shattered. I threw up blood. While she soaked up attention online as the "extreme sports queen," I was drowning in nonstop pain. Kent sat beside me, holding my hand as he cared. "Just hang in there. Violet's just being herself. As my wife, you should be more understanding." To finally push me over the edge, Violet decided to livestream herself jumping into the ocean to make me die in her place. Their friends couldn't wait to watch. Later, I watched calmly from a hospital room as the system slowly drained the life out of her. Kent looked deranged as he demanded to know why I wasn't dead. Because I had already reversed the system. All her vitality had become the nourishment that sustained me.