Mga Maiikling Kuwento at Nobelang Reborn Marriage

In this lifetime, Lyana Coiningan, the widow, laments about how envious she is about my bedroom by telling Alpha Theron Ulrick, "Luna Astra's bedroom is so huge and beautiful! If Dexter could stay here, he'd definitely forget all about the sorrow caused by his father's death…" While Theron is still hesitant about giving my bedroom away, I've already taken the initiative to pack up my things and give it to Lyana. On the coldest day of winter, Lyana's son, Dexter Ulrick, suddenly wails and complains about how cold the weather is. He then demands to have my son, Cayden Ulrick's fur cloak. Cayden doesn't hesitate to take off the cloak and give it to him. Everyone in the Silverfrost pack says, "Luna Astra is the embodiment of the Moon Goddess. She knows when to let others have all the good things. On top of that, she doesn't fight over anything with anyone else. Even her son is as understanding and demure as she is." Theron compliments us on how understanding we've become as well. But what they don't know is that I've already bought flight tickets in preparation to leave the Silverfrost pack. Once I get my hands on the mate bond dissolution potion, I'll be able to take Cayden to a land far, far away from this place. In my previous life, Theron had neglected Cayden and me forever because of Lyana and Dexter. He even passed his assets to them after his death. Now that we get a second chance in the same lifetime, both Cayden and I don't want to have anything to do with Theron anymore.

All men in the Sherwood family will go through a mutation when they hit 25 years old, where they will develop heavy breasts and wombs of their own, just like regular women. The only way to break the curse is to marry a blessed woman. In my previous life, Mason Sherwood wanted to marry my younger sister, Winnie Lowe. But I knew the truth, so I did everything I could to stop him. In the end, he was forced to marry me. On our wedding night, Winnie left a suicide note behind before jumping off a cliff. In that note, she accused me of stealing her true love from her. My parents lashed out at me for being a vile woman, whereas Mason hated my guts. One week after Winnie's death, Mason ordered his men to hang me off a helicopter and flew me around. With a ferocious expression, Mason cut the rope, causing me to fall from an extremely high altitude. All that remained of me was a huge puddle of flesh. When I open my eyes again, I've returned to the day the Sherwoods visit my home and ask for Winnie's hand in marriage. This time, I'd like to see how Winnie, who has lost her blessing, can save Mason's life!

In the past, I was Raymond Wright’s wife. Or rather, a prisoner kept in his gilded cage. I was an internationally renowned jewelry designer. Under the spotlight, I had the most dazzling presence. Raymond was the most influential business elite on Floor Street, and he had an extreme desire for control. He claimed to love me, but he never truly loved me for who I was. He was determined to shape me into the “perfect Mrs. Wright” that existed in his imagination. He disliked me having my own social circle and hated it when I appeared in public. I once naively believed that if I were obedient enough, he would eventually recognize my sacrifices. The turning point came at a banquet. Someone there publicly mocked me as “nothing but a canary kept by Mr. Wright.” I could bear it no longer and retorted. Raymond rushed over and coldly scolded me. He said, “Behave yourself. Don’t embarrass me.” At that moment, the surrounding snickers and the disgust in his gaze forced the truth upon me. Ultimately, I fell down the stairs in an “accident” orchestrated by my stepsister. When I opened my eyes again, I was greeted by a warm-toned pendant lamp in the apartment I lived in before I married Raymond. On the desk calendar, a date was circled in red—there were only five days left until my wedding to Raymond. I had returned to the past. This time, I did not want to get involved with Raymond anymore.

On the day of our wedding, my fiance Thomas Warsh was killed in a car accident on the way there. His adopted sister rushed toward me, clutching his ashes, accusing me of being a jinx who brought him misfortune. I was drowning in grief when a line of floating comments suddenly appeared before my eyes. [You must remain a widow for three years for your deceased husband. After three years, he will be reincarnated and return to love you again!] [Don’t ever remarry. Otherwise, the male lead will never rest in peace, and you will suffer for the rest of your life!] That was when I learned that my fiancé and I were the hero and heroine of a novel. Only by following the spoilers in the comments and completing the storyline could I reunite with him. I did not remarry. Guided by the comments, I remained a widow for three years, and then another three. However, it was not until I suddenly died from a severe illness that I discovered the truth–the comments had all been written by Thomas. He had faked his death, changed his appearance, married his adopted sister, and fed me endless empty promises so I would continue to slave away for the Warsh family. When I opened my eyes again, I had returned to the day before the wedding.

I spent decades taking care of my kid and the elderly. I ignored my stomach pain until it turned into cancer. By the end, it had eaten me alive. Before I died, I went back to my old family home to sort through my stuff. That's when I found Danny's diary. My dead husband's diary. Hidden for fifteen years. I carefully flipped through it until I reached the last page. [Some loves are worth dying for. Alicia, I'm coming with you.] The diary never mentioned me. Not once. Page after page, it was all Alicia. That was when I learned Danny hadn't died in an accident. He and Alicia Doyle—the woman he never got over—had chosen to die together. I sank onto a chair and stared at his framed photo. "Danny Caldwell, if you loved her that much, did you regret marrying me?" Blood filled my throat. I threw his picture to the floor. "Because I regret marrying you." When I opened my eyes again, I was back in the past. This time, I refused to rot in a loveless marriage. I walked out and never looked back. He smirked and told his friends, "She'll crawl back. Bet she won't last three hours." But three hours passed. Then three days. Then three months. I never came back. Later, he asked when I'd return to him. My answer was simple. "Never."

Our daughter, Luna Woods, developed a high fever. Her body was burning hot. I immediately dialed 911 for help. The dispatcher on the other end kept repeating his questions. He spoke slowly, as if deliberately stalling for time. By the time I finally heard the ambulance siren, Luna was already turning cold in my arms. In less than a year, my wife and I separated. We were consumed by endless grief and blamed for each other. Afterward, I merely existed for the sake of it. I was a hollow shell of a man. Then, one day, I received a wedding invitation from my ex-wife. The moment I played the audio invitation, a chill ran down my spine. The groom’s voice was identical to that of the slow, dawdling dispatcher from that year! I rushed out, utterly distraught, only to be hit by a roaring train. When I opened my eyes again, I heard Luna crying in the next room. Her forehead was burning hot. My wife hurriedly handed me the phone. “Quick, call 911! I’ll get a wet towel.” My hands trembled as I took the phone. When it was answered, I heard a familiar male voice through the receiver. “911, what’s your emergency?”

I once risked my life to save Jaxson Rourke on a rainy night. He remembered my face. Yet, when he came to propose, he mistook Elena for me simply because we shared a similar appearance. My stepmother forbade me from revealing the truth. Tragically, Elena was frail and passed away from illness before the wedding. My father couldn't bear to let such immense wealth and status slip away, so he decided to hand the marriage to me instead. He thought that I would surely win the Jaxson’s favor, thinking I closely resembled Elena, enough to replace her. But, my father was wrong. Jaxson only has hatred for me, "You two look so much alike.” He sneered, “Why did she have to be the one who died, and not you?" After the marriage, Jaxson remained indifferent towards me, never believing a word I said. Now, I have been reborn to the time when Jaxson had just gotten engaged…I knelt before my stepmother and pleaded, "To avoid any unexpected trouble, please arrange my marriage as soon as possible.

The Dempsey family has two adopted sons. I'm one of them, and the other is Julius Haysworth. On the day Elena Dempsey and Julius get engaged, a car accident leaves her crippled. Julius tearfully breaks off the engagement, while I marry Elena to repay the Dempseys for taking me in. For the next ten years, I wait on her hand and foot, support her rehabilitation, and help her walk again. I even give up my chance to attend college for her. Yet, on the very day Elena regains her mobility and takes over the family business, she announces that she wants to bring Julius home. A wealthy woman has scammed him out of every penny, and Elena now wants to divorce me for him. I confront her in fury, destroy everything in our home, and even beg her to reconsider, but Elena refuses to change her mind. Even my adoptive parents believe that a man without a college education is no longer good enough for the now-successful Elena. I'm so furious that I spit out a mouthful of blood and jump from the top floor of the Dempsey residence. When I open my eyes again, I'm back on the day Elena will choose between Julius and me as her future husband.

Three years into their marriage, Vivian Cole was thrown into the basement for the ninety-ninth time. Half her face was swollen, and a bruise darkened the corner of her eye. Before she could struggle, a bodyguard roughly forced her into a chair. “Last month, you sneaked into bars three times and went street racing once. You ended up bedridden for a week. Haven’t you learned your lesson?” Disappointment weighed heavily on Alexander Blackwood’s face. “When will you finally learn to behave and become a proper Mrs. Blackwood?” Vivian glanced at the restraints wrapped around her arms and gave him a faint smile. “So this is how a Mrs. Blackwood is supposed to be treated? I’m living worse than a stray dog on the street.” His expression darkened, and his chest heaved with anger. “If you hadn’t kept breaking the rules, I wouldn’t have had to lay a hand on you! “You’re my wife! You’re the face of the Blackwood family, not some woman out on the street who can do whatever she pleases!” “Rules, rules, rules! I’m sick of hearing about those stupid rules!” she snarled, her usually delicate face contorted with fury. “I just want to live as myself! I don’t want to be some puppet whose only purpose is to obey the Blackwood family’s rules!” Alexander stared at her with cold, unreadable eyes for a long moment. “Anyone could be Mrs. Blackwood. You could be, or any other woman.” Just as he turned to leave, Vivian spoke in a desperate, pleading voice. “Fine. Just don’t leave me. I’ll try harder to become the perfect Mrs. Blackwood.” From that day on, Vivian gave up street racing, stopped going to bars, followed every rule, and studied proper etiquette. But at a formal gala, she lost her temper and struck a woman who had been openly mocking her. Then her father, Thomas Cole, addressed that very woman as his daughter. Vivian froze. Alexander’s expression stiffened as well. The words on his lips shifted, and his face gradually settled into an impassive mask. “She has always been rebellious and poorly mannered. Her lack of discipline is my fault. “Get on your knees and apologize to her.” Vivian felt as though she’d been struck by lightning. After making sure he was truly ordering her to apologize, she stumbled backward in disbelief. Three years of marriage and five years of love. With just one sentence, he had reduced all her efforts to nothing. Dazed and heartbroken, she ran out into the street, failing to notice the truck approaching from the roadside. She was killed on the spot. But when she opened her eyes again, she realized she’d been given a second chance at life. She had returned to the days before her wedding.

I'm reborn just as Jasmine Maynard asks for a divorce for the 108th time. Her weary voice rings in my ears. "There's nothing between us anymore, Noah Hardin. Dragging this on will just exhaust the both of us." In my past life, I had stubbornly refused to let her go and divorce her because I still wanted to be her husband. But then she got pregnant with someone else's baby, and I made a huge fuss about it, which caused her to lock me up in a psychiatric hospital. She only came to see me once right before I died. She said, "If I knew how obsessive you'd turn out to be, I would never have married you in the first place." So, in this lifetime, I realize that my obsession with her doesn't matter more than staying alive. "Dexter has a heart condition. You can demand whatever else you want from me aside from keeping your position as my husband," Jasmine says, rubbing her temples impatiently. "But it you don't agree, then we'll keep negotiating until—" I interrupt her and say, "There's no need to wait till the 109th time. I'll agree to the divorce."

I've been reborn. I've gone back to the morning when my sister, Tilda Archer, and I sit in the Werewolf Council Hall, waiting to choose our mates. In my previous life, Tilda throws herself at Mike Pierson, a promising young Alpha of the Pierson pack, while I'm paired with Phil Pierson, a nobody from a lesser branch of the pack. But just after Tilda is marked by Mike, he leads his warriors to the border. Not long after, word comes back that he has been killed in battle. Meanwhile, Phil rises to power amid the bloodshed and chaos, eventually becoming the Alpha who rules over wolves across the entire wasteland. Without the Alpha's protection, Tilda endures endless contempt and torment within the pack. She cries and begs to return to our family. But Dad, who has always doted on her, slaps her across the face and forces her to hold on to her position as Luna. Tilda completely loses her mind. When I go to see her, she stabs me in the throat with a poisoned silver dagger. I refuse to go down without a fight. With the last of my strength, I tear her apart with my claws. When I open my eyes again, the two of us are back at the very table where our fates are decided. Tilda, do you really think the Phil I married in my previous life is the gentle, devoted mate you imagine him to be?

The day Sofia died, I scattered her ashes into the sea myself. In my last life, I called her my stepmother for thirteen years. She pulled me from dead last at a school in the slums to the top ten in the whole city, gave me the first dress of my life, and taught me how to sit straight at the Moreno dinner table and never bow my head to anyone. On the late nights when my father Leon got drunk and smashed his bottles, it was always her who closed my bedroom door first, then walked alone into the living room to face the man that love and power had already driven mad. Seven days after she died of her illness, Leon finally lost his mind. He charged into the sea off the old docks, screaming, "Sofia, I was wrong! I'm coming down to be with you!" I clung to him with everything I had, and in the struggle I fell into the freezing water myself. When I opened my eyes again, I was five years old. Sofia was crouched on the floor, tying my shoelaces. Her fingers were warm, the pads still carrying the thin calluses left by years of holding a pen over the ledgers. I threw my arms around her neck and buried my face in the crook of her shoulder. "Mommy, this time I don't want anyone else. I only want you."

I was twenty-two when my luck went bad. A flowerpot came off a third-floor ledge while I was walking under it. My brother Julian shoved me clear and took it on the head. Wolves heal from almost anything. The doctors told my parents he would never wake up. A month later, my sister Felicity rode with me to visit him. A truck ran the light. Her leg was crushed in four places, and it never healed right. A witch passing through Greyridge took one look at me across the pack meeting and told my Alpha father, in front of everyone, that I would bury whoever stood closest to me. He threw me out that same night. But my fiancé did not give up on me. The most powerful witch in the entire country said that as long as I remained alone on the island, I would not be affected by the curse. So he bought me an island. Five years. Nothing bad happened to me in all that time. The only thing was, Dominic had a pack to run, so I got him two or three days a month. I tried to go to him. But the boat docked fine. A car hit mine on the way to the airport and I spent two weeks in a hospital bed. "Mer, I'm scared every time you leave this island." His voice was shaking. "I can't lose you. I'll come more often. I swear." I missed him so much I couldn't sleep. I told myself to be good about it anyway. This year, he said a project would keep him away on his birthday. So I got on a boat without telling anyone. I wanted to see his face. The crossing was smooth. When I reached the Stonecrest pack house, the main doors opened. My sister walked in, wearing a couture gown, holding Dominic's arm. Felicity. On both legs. Two she-wolves beside my pillar were watching them too. "Five years mated, a three-year-old pup, and look at them. Still like that." "Alpha Cross never so much as looks at another woman. You won't find another one like him in any pack." A little boy in a tiny copy of Dominic's suit came running through the doors with his arms up. "Daddy! Happy birthday!" My hands went cold. Every accident had been bought. Every witch had been paid. Even my mating certificate was a fake. So I walked out of that hospital alone, got on the first plane I could find, and had every trace of me erased. Three years later, I walked into a ballroom wearing nine figures around my neck, under a name he'd never heard. Dominic Cross crushed a glass in his fist and begged for one more chance.

Over three years, I called the police on Julian Prescott 188 times to force him to marry me. When he left me burning with fever to see his first love, I reported him missing. When that same woman summoned him to fix her plumbing in the middle of the night, I tipped off the vice squad. After the last trip to the police station, I asked whether he'd finally had enough of me. He was silent for a long time before answering. "I promised my father I'd take care of you. I'm going to keep that promise." Then came the day we climbed a snowy mountain together. An avalanche trapped us, and Julian shielded me with his body. A boulder crushed half of him. Feverish and close to death, I looked at him, half-dead after everything I'd put him through, and suddenly laughed. "You must hate me, Julian. I got you killed, and I tore you away from Sophie." He met my eyes, his voice calm. "Do you want the truth? I've been sick of you for years." My heart lurched. Before I could even react, he cut his wrist and pressed it to my lips, forcing me to swallow enough blood to keep me conscious. "But I'm not letting you die. Willa, I don't owe you anything anymore. In our next life, please let me go." Only after my rescue did I learn that he'd dragged his broken body through the snow, leaving a plea for help written in his own blood. I sank into severe depression. Lost in a haze, I eventually died in a car accident. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day I would have made my 189th desperate attempt to force a wedding. Julian, this time, you'll get what you asked for.

Gia Rowan was diagnosed with a terminal illness in the second year after the death of her husband. She prepared to donate everything she had built to charity, but the will of her late husband shattered her world. Her late husband had left everything he owned to his twenty-eight-year-old illegitimate son, including half of her company. She and her husband remained childless for thirty years. The mother mentioned in his will was not her, but it was Cecelia Warren instead. Betrayal struck her, and in the haze of despair, she lost consciousness. She opened her eyes again to find herself back in the third year of her marriage. With the truth in hand, she had a new chance to choose differently.

I've loved Joe Turner for ten years, but he hates me to my core. He hates me for taking the spot as his wife, leaving his cherished first love with nothing but heartbreak. It isn't until ALS takes my body and my final moments arrive that he sits by my bed, feeding me my favorite fruit. With bloodshot eyes, he whispers, "Layla, let's never meet again in the next life." Yet, after I die, he kneels before my tombstone and puts a bullet through his head. When I open my eyes again, I'm back at the moment when my family goes bankrupt, and someone needs to take the fall and go to prison. In my past life, my frail sister, Rebecca Clarke, had gone to jail in Dad's place and died a miserable death behind bars. That was why Joe hated me for a lifetime. This time, I step forward on my own. "Dad, I'll go to prison. Let Joe marry Rebecca." I take the fall for everything, wishing him and his childhood sweetheart a happy life together.

At our wedding, my husband, Justin Garner, pushes me—three months pregnant—toward our enemies as an apology in order to save his foster sister, Clara Garner. "This is my sincerity. You can do whatever you want with her." I don't cry or make a scene. I quietly follow the enemies away. That's because in my previous life, I had traded all my wealth for freedom and returned to Justin's side. In the end, I was forced to drink drugs and lost my unborn baby, suffering for three days and nights. "Justin, those 'enemies' were people you hired to act, and Maxine didn't even lose her innocence. Why did you have to get rid of the baby?" Clara asks. Justin coldly laughs. "If you're acting, you have to make it look real." I died full of hatred. When I wake up again, I choose to let those people take me away. Three years later, when I arrive at a banquet on the arms of my new lover, Justin goes mad, grabbing me and demanding, "Maxine Preston, where is our child?"

My wife, Clara Ellis, had just died. By law, I inherited her entire data archive. Among the files, I discovered an AI version of her that she had created so her surviving family could remember her after she was gone. My daughter asked, "What's the happiest moment of your entire life?" The Clara on the screen laughed. "Why, marrying your father, of course." Her friends asked if she had ever had any regrets. "Clara" shook her head. Then another question appeared, one the real Clara had prepared for herself. "If you could restart your life at 22, would you still choose to marry Darren?" For a full minute, Clara AI said nothing. Finally, she shook her head. "No. I'd rush to the airport and convince Logan to stay." Logan Pearce had left the country when Clara was 22. She never tried to stop him because, at that exact time, I was in a car accident that took both my parents' lives. At the most devastating moment of my life, she gave up on the man she loved and chose to stay by my side for the next twenty years. Everyone had always called it an act of love. Now I knew it had been an act of pity. The next time I opened my eyes, I discovered that I had somehow returned to the third day after the accident. Clara sat beside my hospital bed. Her phone showed that Logan's flight would be boarding soon. In my previous life, I had stopped her from going. It was the first time I had ever swallowed my pride and begged someone to stay with me. That night, I had spent hours trying to convince her not to leave. This time, I ordered an Uber for her. "Logan's flight leaves in 40 minutes. You can still make it, Clara."

My best friend's boyfriend was cheating, so I tagged along to bust him at a hotel. Fifteen hours until go time. Felicity Cook booked a room right next to Jake's, jaw tight. "They'll be here tonight. When the time comes, we'll catch them red-handed." Inside, I could barely keep my eyes open. She'd been a wreck since last night, and I hadn't slept a minute trying to keep her sane. Figured I had time, so I set an alarm and crashed. When I opened my eyes, a guy was lying next to me. Felicity kicked the door in and pointed at me. "Lydia Lloyd! I can't believe you betrayed me! You're my best friend! Why would you sneak around and steal my boyfriend?" I just stared, mind blank, trying to get words out. She snapped, yanked out a kitchen knife, and in front of everyone, drove it into me again and again. I hit the floor, drowning in my own blood, eyes stuck open like my body refused to let me go. I came here to catch a cheater—how did I end up the side chick? Then I blinked... and I was right back at the moment I first walked into that hotel with Felicity.

My mother suddenly suffered a brain hemorrhage, and I needed to pay $80,000 for surgery immediately. I called my wife right away. Before I could finish, she cut me off impatiently. "Gabriel Cole, didn't we agree when we got married that we'd keep our finances separate? Your mother being sick is your family's problem. Why should you touch my savings? Can't you have a little respect for the contract?" Then my stepson's sneering voice came through from her side. "Uncle Gabriel, can you stop morally blackmailing my mom? As a grown man, isn't it pathetic that you can't even pay your own mother's medical bills? Stop bothering us while we're eating sushi." Because I couldn't pay the fee in time, my mother missed the best window for surgery and died. It wasn't until noon the next day that my wife called me. Her first words were an accusation. "What's wrong with you? It's already noon. Why aren't you back to cook? Don't you know Mason has tutoring this afternoon?" "My mom died of a brain hemorrhage!" I roared through gritted teeth. My wife froze for a second. The first thing she blurted out was: "Well, don't expect me to pay for the funeral. That's a matter of principle. "And your mother dying is your mother dying. That's not a reason for you to skip cooking." In that instant, I knew the devotion I'd poured out for more than ten years meant nothing to her. Rage hit my heart. I suffered a heart attack and followed my mother into death. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day my wife proposed separate finances after marriage.