What I Should Have Said

For three years, I was nothing but a replacement. After my hundredth blood donation to my three wives' true love, I vanished from their lives. They bombarded my phones with thousands of phone calls and ten times that number of text messages. 'I'm sorry, I'm really sorry, honey! I know I let our mom down. You can do anything to me, but please don't leave me!' 'Please, honey, I'm sorry. I'll do anything. I won't do it again, I swear! Just come back!' 'You can't leave me, honey! You're going to drive me mad! I can't live without you!' 'Please, just tell me where you are! Take my call, please!' … I changed my SIM card once I went back to Imperia and blocked all my wives' contacts. Peace and quiet came back to me. Three months later, I was told that my wives' companies went bust, and the love of their lives swindled them out of every single cent they had. And now they were scouring the land for me. That was a joke. They did not panic when they still had everything. They should never have done what they did. Too late for regrets.

After the SAT, I come across a post online. Someone posts, "If you could make a choice all over again, which major would you choose this time?" The comments are filled with people wishing they had chosen a different major. They all have their own regrets. One response stands out from the rest. "I would choose literature. That way, he and I wouldn't have missed out on the four years we should have spent together because of that unwanted baggage." I chuckle and am about to scroll past when I suddenly notice the profile picture and username. They are identical to those of my childhood sweetheart, Winter Andersen. I click into the profile. Everything matches her current account exactly, except that the age is ten years older. My heart sinks to my stomach. This has to be her ten years in the future. No wonder I am the only one celebrating when we are admitted to the same major. No wonder she zones out for so long after seeing my best friend, Simon Brown, receive his acceptance letter from the literature department. It turns out I am the unwanted baggage responsible for so many of her regrets and disappointments. Since that is the case, I quietly press "Accept" on the admission offer written entirely in a foreign language. I shall end this mistake ten years ahead of schedule.

Two people in Marriage create beautiful bond called Love , soulmate god choose a mate for you . preview "Good morning" she mumbled softly smiling.She look up when she got no reply or any movement from her mate Aaron.Aaron remove his arms around her and suddenly sat up. "What the -!"he muttered when realization hit him."A-Aaron what happened" Grace asked nervously getting up from her laying position."! !How did it happened" Aaron pull his hair in frustration.Grace bite her she don't know what to do or think of Aaron reaction. he didn't regret it right? No don't think like this Grace. She won't yeah she can't. think positive.But her hope crumbled with Aaron next words."I am sorry ""W-why?" she hold her breath don't want to hear the next words. She's not ready she can't take it."I was not in my right mind, i lost control again. I didn't want to do this. I am sorry"Aaron's every word was scratching her heart painfully. its painfully. So hurt."B-but we are m-married and you are my mate, it's alright right? I-It's normal in c-couple then why are you s-sorry?" She was already tearing from inside."But we are not a couple Grace!!" He shouted standing up."I didn't even wanted a mate at the first place!!" he said pacing back and forth. Grace tears started running down from her cheeks."Look, i-it was just a mistake. Don't take it seriously. Just think it didn't happen and we are good. ." He said and just stormed out of the room.Grace grab her chest that was hurting painfully. A mistake. That was it?The night she was so happy she was peaceful. Where she feel loved and wanted from her mate.... was just a mistake.

After I discovered Chelsea Stone’s infidelity, I ended the relationship without giving her a chance. I packed my luggage bit by bit. She watched me, then suddenly said, “Jensen Scott, do you know what was the most boring thing about you?” I paused and turned around. She blew out a puff of smoke and smiled in a flirtatious way. “You were so boring. You did not even know how to sweet‑talk in bed. It was so uninteresting.” I walked away with my things, and I held back my tears. Three years later, I ran into her in the hospital corridor. She wore a white coat, and the medical record book in her hand almost slipped when I bumped into her. Our eyes met. She looked me over, and her tone turned playful. “Oh, is this not my blockhead ex‑boyfriend?” I smiled and did not reply. As I left the hospital, she stepped in front of me and lowered her voice. “Three years have passed. Have you learned how to sweet‑talk in bed?” I raised my hand and showed her my wife’s ultrasound report. “I have, but not to you.”

Seven days before our wedding, Danny Wagner—my childhood sweetheart—got down on one knee for Mia Kant, the broke girl he'd been sponsoring. Right in front of me and his buddies. I didn't cry. Didn't lose it. Just slapped a smile on my face and said, "Wishing you two a lifetime of happiness." His buddies? Oh, they had the nerve to tell me to be generous and let Danny help Mia finish her "wish list." Danny, unsatisfied and ticked off, said I was overreacting and demanded an apology. Dismissive, he sneered, "I said I'd marry you after Mia's wish list was done. Stop being so unreasonable." I knew this was the last item on her list. I opened my notes app, scrolled to my wish list, and deleted all thirty-three bullet points. Done. Then I made a call. "I'm willing to marry you."

I was in a long-distance relationship with my boyfriend. It had been three years, and he never let me go to him. I cried, I protested, and I even shouted at him. Alas, all he did was give me a tired answer. "It's for your own good, Wendy." I shut up because that really was the truth. I had made frequent trips to him during the first year we were together. The first time I went, I forgot to turn off the stove, and the fire burned my house down. The second time I went, the elevator I took malfunctioned. I was locked inside for hours. The loss of oxygen nearly knocked me out. Then, the third time came. I didn't think my luck would be this rotten, but it was. On my way to the airport, I ran into a car crash and stayed in the ICU for three days. Since then, he came to me. The fateful day came. My company sent me on a trip to Imperia. I didn't tell Chris and prayed to God that this trip would go smoothly. My prayers were answered, and the plane landed smoothly. I was so excited about my change in luck. I was about to text Chris to tell him all about it when I turned around and saw him standing among the crowd of people picking up the passengers. He was holding a bouquet of roses. I thought either my friend told him, or we were secretly telepathic. Just when I was going to approach him, I saw him smiling at a girl and pulling her into his embrace. Then, they kissed.