Contos sobre Melodramatic e Romances com Male POV e Countdown

I'm born with the ability to see how much time remains in every relationship between two people. Throughout my 13 years of marriage to my wife, Francine Spence, the rare word "Forever" glows above both our heads. But on the eve of our son Oscar Baxter's birthday, I stumble upon a conversation between Francine and her client, Dale Stratton. In it, I discover that she has been letting Dale use Oscar as a substitute for his deceased son, Zachary Stratton, to ease his grief. In an instant, the golden word "Forever" vanishes, and in its place is a glaring crimson number—7 Days.

After Poppy Steele, the heiress of the Steele family, loses her sight, my brother, Trevor Nott, breaks off their engagement and moves abroad. Left with no other choice, my parents ask me—their adopted son—to replace Trevor as a form of compensation. I take meticulous care of her for five years until she regains her sight. Just as she is about to marry me, Trevor appears at the wedding holding a bouquet of flowers, gets down on one knee, and confesses his love to her. The usually aloof Poppy bursts into tears. She throws away her wedding ring and runs to him, asking why he has only shown up now. I instantly become the laughingstock. I don't make a fuss, though. I change out of my suit and let them have the wedding. Poppy praises me for being sensible, claiming her recent actions are just for show. She promises that I will always be her fiance. I smile without saying anything and quietly book a flight abroad. She doesn't know yet that my care for her is nothing more than a deal. Now that her old flame is back, it's time for me to live my own life.

The day my overseas assignment finally ended, I kept my return a secret from Marielle Knox and spent thirteen hours flying home. We'd argued only a few days earlier. Marielle wanted me to keep building my career abroad, but I was determined to come home and marry her. Even as I was about to board, she was still trying to talk me out of it over the phone. "Weston, don't throw away your future for me. As long as we love each other, it doesn't matter whether we get married." Hearing that only made me more certain. The moment I landed, I went straight to a jewelry store, bought a diamond ring, and called my childhood best friend, Chase Davis, to tell him about my proposal plan. A baby was wailing on his end of the line. Chase tried to soothe the child and snapped at me, "Weston Brown, wake up! You've been long-distance for five years, and she keeps putting off the wedding. She obviously doesn't want to marry you. "Marriage is where love goes to die. Ever since my wife had the baby, I've been losing my mind!" I was about to argue when I saw Chase walk out of a baby store, holding a child. "My wife's here. Talk later." He hung up in a hurry and waved toward the curb. A black luxury sedan pulled up in front of him. The door opened, and a woman took the baby from his arms and rocked him with the ease of someone who'd done it a thousand times. Sunlight fell across her profile, and the sight stung my eyes. The wife my best friend had kept secret for two years was Marielle—the girlfriend I'd spent five years loving from the other side of the world.

When Selena Sloane takes her assistant, Preston Jones, to the hospital in order to get his lower back checked out, her 18-year-old self is in the middle of making out with me while having me pinned against the wall. "Darling, how is it that you smell so good and your kisses are still this amazing despite being 30 years old? Oh, I love you so much, darling! "By the way, where did my 30-year-old self go? Why isn't she here to pick you up after work?" I push Young Selena off me sadly. That's when I happen to meet the 30-year-old Selena's icy gaze. "You already have a mistress of your own, and yet you still can't bear to get a divorce from me, hmm? Zack Holt, you really are pathetic." As I watch the older Selena supporting Preston and walking away, the younger Selena starts kicking up a fuss in my arms once again. "That idiot! How dare she speak to my darling so arrogantly? Why, I might as well kill myself right now so that she'll disappear from this world as well!"

On New Year's Eve, I went to court for the last time. The judge asked if I still wanted to file for custody of my daughter. I shook my head and said, "I'm here to withdraw my case. I'm going to stop fighting for custody anymore. I agree with the divorce." Vivian and I had been married for nine years, and the divorce had dragged through six hearings. I spent six New Year's Eve in court. There had been no joy, only hysterical accusations. I was tired. My daughter was tired, too. So, I finally stopped holding on. I had already booked my flight home for the year.