The Big Red One

My girlfriend called me frantically out of the blue, saying her mother's water had broken. She begged me to take them to the hospital. But I lazily hung up the phone and turned away, buying myself an ice cream bar instead. In my previous life, her mother had also gone into labor late in life. I had risked everything to rush her to the hospital, running twelve red lights, pushing my car to the limit until the fuel gauge nearly burst. Yet, despite all that, her mother had lost the baby. Worse still, she turned around and accused me of killing the baby. My girlfriend had hated me for it, blaming me for her mother's inability to have children again. That very night, she and her shameless relatives took over my family's house, forcing my parents into such anger and despair that they ended up in the hospital. My company went bankrupt, and as if that weren't enough, I was beaten so severely that both my legs were broken. In the end, I fell into a deep depression and took my own life. But when I opened my eyes again, I found myself reborn. This time, I uncovered the secret her mother had been hiding.

They say, love approaches you at the peak of your youth, but in some cases it happens earlier than expected. Though you don't expect love, it is ageless, timeless, and placeless. Here's an African story of love, a love unexpected , untold, a love that changes , a love that heals. Here's an unconditional love between two uncommon and unlikely persons, two teens though they were world apart, they didn't care, though they were class difference, they cared less. "Adure look into my eyes and tell me you don't love me" These were his words before they parted , a space that made him realize just how much he needed her, a break that made her realize she needed him more than she needed her next breath. I know what your questions may be , what caused Their separation? What transpired between them? How long was the break and oh! What is the lover boy's name. Why don't you find out your self by reading this intriguing Iove story , this undying love story. Oh also this question, how does a break , a big break as that , makes one realize how much he or she longs for / love themselves more, well dear readers it all happened in THAT ONE BIG BREAK

Yvonne Larson, my housekeeper, has always been punctual, but she ends up being late today. "I'm so sorry, Mr. Carter. Dinner's not ready yet. I hope you won't mind. I had no choice. I waited for over half an hour, but no one got the door for me. I even called Mrs. Carter a few times, but she didn't take my calls. That's why I ended up running late." Halfway through changing into my house slippers, I pause and frown. "Yvonne, didn't Susanna give you the access card to the apartment?" Yvonne looks confused. "The access card? Mrs. Carter never gave me any card." "Never?" "That's right," Yvonne confirms timidly while wiping the sweat off her brow. "For the past month, I've always had to call Mrs. Carter and ask her to open the door for me. She wasn't picking up her phone today, so I had to wait outside…" That's strange. I've checked the logs before. The access card has been used multiple times throughout the past month.

The day I found out I wasn't really an Adelson, Sharon—their real daughter—stormed in and stabbed me—over and over. Just like that, my shot at being a mom? Gone. Chuck Benetton, my fiancé, lost it. My parents swore they'd disown her. To "comfort" me, Chuck proposed on the spot. My parents handed me the severance letter—Sharon officially disowned—and told me to just focus on healing. Later, they said Sharon had run off and gotten trafficked in Nyamara, some hotspot for scams and lost souls. They said it served her right. And yeah... I believed them. Six years into the lie, I saw her—very much alive, baby bump and all, curled up against my husband like she owned him. "If I hadn't snapped back then, Yasmine never would've married you, " she said. "Thank God you and Mom and Dad backed me. Otherwise, that imposter would've landed me in jail. "She probably never guessed I've been right here, carrying your baby. Once I give birth, just fake an adoption. She can nanny our kid forever. "Thanks for everything, Chuck." She smiled like he was her hero. And he blushed. "Don't thank me. Marrying her was the only way to protect you. I'd do it all again." So yeah. The guy I thought loved me? He was always lying. My "parents"? They only cared about Sharon. If that's love, I want nothing to do with it.

"Ms. Harris, you're already six months pregnant. The baby is fully formed... Are you sure you want to go through with the abortion? The hospital strongly advises against it." The doctor said hesitatingly. Phoebe Harris instinctively placed a hand over her swollen belly. Six months. The child had grown inside her, from something no bigger than a grain of rice to the size it was now. They say a mother and her child share an unspoken bond, and she could feel it too. If she weren't utterly broken inside, what mother would ever have the heart to give up her baby who was about to enter the world? After a silence that seemed to stretch on forever, Phoebe took a deep breath. Then, with a resolve that left no room for doubt, she said, "I'm sure."

I bet you’ve heard the story about the secretary falling head over heels for her boss; that’s me, but what happens when you have unforgettable with someone without knowing he is your boss? That’s me; I got invited to a party that ended up being a birthday party with a dungeon theme, weird, I know, tell me about it, but I finally let my hair down and enjoyed exploring my sexuality with the most intense men I have ever met. My boss, Richard Ashford, Mr. Billionaire CEO himself, he is intense, dominating, cocky, and arrogant, but he makes me feel like the most important woman in the world. Behind closed doors, he is the most fantastic lover. I wish the world could see him the same way I do. I am not ready for dating after everything I have been through. But he is. He wants to show Manhattan’s elite that I am his, but I don’t want to be in the spotlight. I like being anonymous. His life is covered by every newspaper and magazine. That’s what happens when you own most of New York’s media companies.