The Mystery Guest

My name is Mabel Lloyd, and I make a barely decent living repairing household appliances. Two weeks ago, on a night when the rain came down heavily, I found a soaking-wet stranger huddled outside my apartment building. He was ridiculously handsome, an incredible cook and had only one glaring flaw — he was painfully shy. Whenever anyone asked his name, he would blush so hard his ears turned bright red, then stand there in complete silence, unable to get a single word out. I could not bring myself to leave him out in the rain, so I rented him the spare storage room in my apartment. Everything was fine. Until today. I heard knocking at my door and, when I went over to check who it was, the building manager was standing there with three men in black suits. The one in front flashed a badge, his expression unreadable. "Routine inspection. Bureau of Supernatural Affairs. "We have reason to believe an unregistered fox shifter may be hiding on these premises." Before I could even process what he had said, a loud clang rang out from the kitchen as a frying pan hit the floor. The very next second, my painfully shy tenant cautiously peeked around the kitchen door. A pair of fluffy white fox ears twitched nervously on top of his head and, when he spoke, his voice shook so badly it sounded like a washing machine caught in the spin cycle. "Mabel... don't open the door. They're here to drag me home for an arranged marriage."

Seeing nothing but the bare self of a girl in his kitchen, his thought suddenly went blank, even her grumbling stomach couldn’t get to him. A strange nude girl in his kitchen was something he hadn’t thought he would see in the next hundred years. She was weird, her long unraveled reddish brown hair was covering her face. Her body held, different old and new scars . And when she lift her eyes to look at him. The eyes was something he hasn’t seen before burning in flames. And a mixture of gold and blue. In a flash it swipe to deep sea blue eyes. The mop stick he held fell from his hands, leaving his mouth ajar. “Who are you?” He thought a thief had sneak in here, probably a food thief in his kitchen, but he ended up seeing something else. And she blinked her long and full lashes at him. Innocently. “Who the hell, are you?” He asked, his eyes running up and down her naked body again. He gulped down an invisible lump on his throat. What’s he gonna do? Her stomach growls. And she whined, giving him pleading eyes. He suddenly felt his knee went weak. “What are you doing here?” Was this some kind of nightmare, or what the hell was it?

Living with my aunt and her family was meant to be a temporary, quiet arrangement just helping out and keeping to myself. On the first day of the new year, while everyone else was out celebrating, I stayed home, enjoying the rare silence and catching up on sleep. But when we ran out of water, I reluctantly stepped outside to fetch some, and that’s when I saw him. He stood by the gate of the house next door, effortlessly commanding attention with just a glance. A smirk played on his lips, and a flicker of amusement danced in his eyes behind his blue-ray glasses. At that moment, he was impossible to ignore. Meanwhile, I felt disheveled and barely awake, my hair was a mess and still shaking off sleep. But he didn’t seem to mind. There was something about him an air of mystery that made me wonder who he was and why he was there. Before I could look away, he spoke, “Hi.” Caught off guard, I managed a quick, “Hi,” while trying to pull myself together. “Can I know your name?” he asked. I hesitated but replied, “I’m Clara,” and kept walking. “Can I have your number?” he called after me. “Just as friends.” I almost refused but reluctantly agreed, entering my number into his phone. “There,” I said, handing it back. “I’ll call you,” he promised with a smile, as I turned to leave. What began as a chance encounter soon became an inexplicable connection. He had secrets, but there was something about him that saw through me, understanding things no one else did. The man I met next door wasn’t just a fleeting stranger,he became the reason I started questioning everything I thought I wanted.

I live double lives, but with one very strict rule: never get involved with the clients. By day, I plan weddings I'll never have. Every bride who calls on me gets the wedding of her dreams. And even though no man's ever wanted to end up with me, watching the joy on my brides' faces is enough. By night, I put on a mask and become the comfort I can't find anywhere else. Just an hour of quiet, honest company for strangers who've run out of people to trust. It's not romance - not even close. But I get my own kind of comfort from it too. Then three men walk into my carefully guarded life, all at once, all determined to break my one rule: one I used to hate, one I'm not allowed to see, and one who's already trouble next door. I have a very terrible feeling I only need to be afraid of one of them - the Stranger in My Bed.

In a quest to secure a spot for her son in a preschool, Emma Walker started going on blind dates. Little did she know that a mysterious man by the name of Landon Stirling would whisk her away to tie the knot on their first meeting.Their married life turned Emma's world upside down. Her son gained admission to the most prestigious private preschool in the city. Surprisingly, the troublesome relatives, who once looked at her like prey, suddenly became docile and respectful. Even at work, every issue seemed to resolve effortlessly and the stigma of being an unwed mother faded away.Emma, watching her nominal husband effortlessly manipulate things in his favor, stuttered in fear, "W-Who are you really?"With a mischievous grin, he replied, "My wife, are you really asking me that now? Isn't that a bit late?"Her heart raced as she questioned, "Is there anything else I don't know?"The man chuckled, "I know our son is my biological child. Does that count?"Emma was floored by his response.

After seven years of marriage, my wife had rarely asked me to accompany her back to her parents' home. She always said she didn't want me stepping into that cramped, crowded little house and feeling wronged. This year, during the New Year, I happened to be in the city where my in-laws lived for a business trip. By chance, I came across a local video online. It was posted by a resident of an upscale neighborhood. "Mom, Dad, my beloved wife and son—thank you for giving an orphan like me a complete and happy life." The elderly couple in the video were dressed in the same high-end outfits I had bought for my in-laws. I thought of how frugal they had always been, how they lived simply and spared every penny. A decision formed in my mind: tomorrow, I would buy them a place in that very neighborhood, in their name, so they could enjoy a comfortable retirement. It would be my small act of filial piety. But the next day, the moment I stepped into the residential complex, I saw my in-laws coming downstairs—with my wife and a child. Could it be that my wife had secretly bought them an apartment? I pressed my lips together, about to step forward, when a man rushed over and caught my father-in-law just as he nearly stumbled. "Dad, careful now." My footsteps froze. My wife was an only child. I had never heard of any foster relatives. He called my father-in-law "Dad." Then… who was I?