Iphone Xr Date

Aria once believed in forever—until her husband Zane Callahan shattered her world with a divorce that felt like a death sentence. Broken, betrayed, and bleeding from the loss of their unborn child, she disappeared into the shadows and rebuilt herself as a one-week wife-for-hire. No strings. No scars. No emotions. Until Kane Callahan walked in. He needed a bride to inherit his dying father's empire. She needed one more contract before vanishing again. But one thing neither expected? The tangled past that bound them—because Kane is Zane’s estranged brother. Aria swore she would never love again. Kane swore he would never forgive. But secrets don’t stay buried. And neither do hearts that never truly stopped beating. By Monday, the contract ends. By Monday, someone will break! By Monday, a love built on lies might just be the only truth worth saving.

The cocktail hour had just ended when I picked up a video call in the bridal suite. It was Ethan, three years from now. By then, time‑travel tech had matured enough to let him contact me three years into the past. After enough specific details, I finally believed it. The man on the screen really was Ethan, three years older. I rubbed my aching ankle and pouted at him through the screen. "Ethan, smiling at all these guests is exhausting. But the second I remember I actually married you today, I'm happy all over again." "We're still happy three years from now, right?" He was leaning back against a headboard, and he didn't answer. His face was flat and unreadable. Then I heard it: a woman's voice from his end, low and breathy, asking to be kissed. I froze for a second, then covered my mouth and laughed. "Is that future me? In broad daylight? Get a room." Ethan turned the camera into the bed. My maid of honor was lying there, naked, sprawled across his chest. Her body was covered in hickeys. He looked straight at me as I started to break, and his voice didn't shift at all. "As soon as the reception ended, I told you I had a client meeting. I went to her room instead." "Jo, now you know what's coming. The guests haven't gone home yet. If you want a divorce tonight, you can have one. Up to you."

I have an ability in which I can see the countdown to someone's emotional departure. The day Dad's countdown hits zero, he leaves behind divorce papers and abandons Mom and me. The day my best friend's countdown hits zero, she finally dumps her jerk of a boyfriend. I'm always terrified of seeing a countdown appear above Levi Hammond's head. But thankfully, seven years into our marriage, his head is still clear. I am thankful every day that I married a good man. However, when he picks me up from work last month, I look up and see bright red text burning into my vision. [702 days, 14 hours, 22 minutes.] That's less than two years from now. My heart clenches, and I frantically search for answers in my head. Have I done something wrong? Has he changed his mind? Things don't fall into place until our anniversary, when we run into his intern, Belinda Manning, outside his office building during a torrential downpour. She's soaked to the skin, but she still has a bright smile on her face. Levi hands her a pack of tissues to dry off, his face unreadable. However, in that instant, the countdown suddenly jumps. [327 days, 4 hours, 47 minutes.] The number of days has dropped by more than 300. The sound of rain is deafening in my ears. But I know now that I have found the reason for it.

The elders in the family are big on good omens, insisting we pick a nice date for the wedding for good luck. But after a fortune teller proposes nine potential wedding dates, Edward Colton turns every single one down. It's the tenth time now. Edward shakes his head yet again. I gaze at his handsome face and blurt out, "I think this date is perfect." Edward is busy scrolling through messages in his group chat, not even bothering to glance up at me. "This date won't work. Jolene and the others just mentioned they want to go to Hallibay for vacation. Turn down your mom's suggestion." I curl my fingers tight. His eyes remain fixed on his phone screen, as if he has endless conversations to tend to. I call his name abruptly, "Edward Colton." He lets out a distracted hum in response. "This is the tenth suggestion. It's perfect. I don't want to miss this date. I'm getting married on this day." He finally spares me a glance, studying me intently for a few seconds before letting out a soft chuckle. "I won't even be around on that day. Who are you going to marry?" He then brushes me off dismissively. "Alright. Stop throwing a fit. Tell your mom to pick another date. None of the dates she picked are good." I smile faintly. After suggesting ten supposedly lucky dates, Edward thinks none are good. So, I decide not to push him further. I lower my head and reply to my mom, "This date is good. We'll hold the wedding on this day."

I could see the countdown above a person’s head when they had already decided to leave their partner. The day my father’s countdown hit zero, he slapped a lawyer’s letter on the breakfast table and walked out on my mother and me. The day my best friend’s countdown hit zero, she finally threw her parasite of a boyfriend out of her apartment and changed the locks before sunset. That was why I’d always been terrified of seeing a countdown above my fiancé, Lucian Bellandi. Luckily, for seven years by his side, the space above his head had stayed clean. Lucian was the youngest Don the Bellandi family had ever seen. He owned the docks, the casinos, and half the South Side’s dirty money, yet he saved every soft part of himself for me. Until last month, when he picked me up after a family auction. I looked up and saw blood-red numbers stabbing into my eyes. [702 days, 14 hours, 22 minutes.] Less than two years. My heart tightened like a cold hand had closed around it. I started searching for an answer like a woman losing her mind. Had I done something wrong? Then, during a blizzard by the lake, we ran into Mia Crane at the back entrance of the Bellandi Hotel. Lucian had just brought her into his charity foundation as a new assistant. Snow clung to her hair and lashes. She was shivering from head to toe, but her smile was bright and painfully innocent. Lucian pulled a black silk handkerchief from his breast pocket and handed it to her. His face was calm. There was nothing openly improper in the gesture. But in that exact second, the countdown above his head jumped. [327 days, 4 hours, 47 minutes.] More than three hundred days, gone. And I knew I had found the reason.

On my 16th birthday, I treat myself to the most delicious cake I can find. On that day, before I can even take a bite, my parents, who are always at odds with each other, sign their divorce papers right in front of me. So, on my wedding day, I tell my wife, Keira Jarrett, "If you ever want a divorce, just get me a birthday cake." She hugs me tightly and promises me."Don't worry. 'Birthday' won't even be a word in our home anymore." Seven years later, on Keira's birthday, her assistant, Jackson Price, throws her a surprise party. She slaps him across his handsome, gentle face and kicks him out of Jarrett Group. That day, I am convinced I have chosen the right woman for life. But three months later, on my birthday, I find out the supposedly fired Jackson has been promoted to Keira's personal secretary. He personally delivers a custom-made birthday cake to me. I call Keira to demand an explanation, but her voice on the other end is cold and distant. "Jack meant well. Don't be a spoilsport." I freeze for a moment, then hang up. It turns out my parents are right all along. The only way a birthday cake tastes right is when it's served with divorce papers.