Contos de Romance sobre Bittersweet e Romances com Scumbag e Regret

After failing to get her fiance, Austin Langford, to sleep with her for the 99th time, Cara Reyes calls up her best friend, Jessica Hogan, and says, "Jess, I'm coming to Spark City to find you." Almost immediately, the sound of a chair slamming on the ground comes through from the other end of the line. Jessica's excited voice is then heard. "Cara! You've finally thought it through! I've told you a long time ago that Austin isn't good for you! He looks too weak!" Cara's red-rimmed eyes light up a little as she smiles. "Yeah. I've thought it through." "Don't be sad, Cara. Once you're in Spark City, I'll introduce you to a new foreign boyfriend with broad shoulders, a narrow waist, and perfect body proportions. Their genes here are all top-notch, and you will definitely have a beautiful baby with them!" Nodding, Cara says, "Alright. Let me go and get my marriage certificate back first." After ending the call, Cara lies down in bed and falls asleep with a heavy heart. Sometime during midnight, someone pulls back the covers and slides in next to her, his warm body settling down just about an arm's length away from her. A short while later, Cara hears the rustling of clothes and the man panting softly beside her. Cara's body goes numb like she's just been electrocuted. However, she still slowly turns her head back to take a closer look.

After coming home from buying fresh produce at the farmer's market, I began prepping the ingredients and making lunch. As soon as I was done with my tasks, my husband, Jeremy Tate, came home. "A pipe in Chloe's home has burst. Hurry up and help her out. It's difficult enough for a single mother like her to handle such problems." I took off my apron and went to Chloe's place to unclog her pipes. Then, I mopped up the stagnant water before proceeding to comfort her frightened child. Once I finally dragged my exhausted body home, I saw Jeremy handing over my daughter's sweater to Chloe. "Don't stress yourself out, Chloe. It's not like Eliza can still wear this anyway. This sweater is perfect for Lily." As I stared at the sweater, I suddenly spoke up. "Let's get a divorce, Jeremy." He looked at me in disbelief. "You want a divorce over an old sweater?" "Yeah. Precisely."

My boyfriend of nine years suddenly changed his WhatsApp name to "Peanut Love." When I asked why, he wouldn't say. Then his secretary, going by the name "Peanut," sent me their intimate photos. I understood everything. I calmly saved the photos and opened my mom's chat. I sent a single message: [Mom, I've decided to come home for the arranged marriage.] Mom immediately video-called me. "Sweetheart, we'll set the wedding for the end of this month." Fifteen days. That's all that's left between Jason and me.

On the day the earthquake hits, my father, Collin Rimes, carries my injured little sister, Poppy Rimes, on his back, trekking about four miles through the mountains before finally reaching the emergency relief camp. His spine is bent low as he paces back and forth outside the command center in anxious hesitation before finally plastering a pleading, subservient smile on his face. "I'm looking for Captain Rubin. I'm his father-in-law. My little girl is injured. Could you please find a place for her?" The guard in camouflage frowns and heads inside to report. A moment later, Scotty Rubin's cold voice drifts out of the tent. "There are injured people everywhere waiting for help, from three-year-olds to 80-year-olds. Every one of them is just as desperate. But we follow protocol here. No special treatment." The smile on Dad's face freezes. Lost and helpless, he glances down at Poppy, who's drenched in cold sweat from the agonizing pain. His Adam's apple bobs, and he swallows the words he wants to say. Nodding emphatically, he hoists Poppy onto his back and shuffles to the side. "Yes, yes, of course. We should follow the rules. That's only right. Scotty is right." Seeing this, a sharp, suffocating pain stabs through my heart. But just as I'm about to speak up, I manage to get a peek at Scotty's phone lighting up on the desk. The latest message is to the woman he's never truly gotten over. "Don't worry, Mae. I've already arranged a private shelter for you. You and your family can all go there. There'll be hot meals, hot water, and dedicated doctors on standby." In that instant, I realize I'm the world's biggest joke. Well, since that's the case, I'll just set Scotty free.

In the second year after we decided on a destination wedding, my fiance, Nicholas Shipley, still had not finalized our travel plans. Unable to wait any longer, I confronted him once more. He finally took out his tablet to show me the travel itinerary he had prepared. “Honey, I just want the trip to be as perfect as possible.” Two years of frustration had been building up, and I could feel it boiling over. Just then, his phone buzzed with a notification. He stood up and walked away. He had forgotten to sign out of WhatsApp on his tablet. A pinned conversation with the young assistant intern, who worked for the manager, Annie Croce, popped up. He had marked it as urgent. [Nick, you’re amazing! You put together the whole itinerary in just two months. As a thank-you, I went ahead and bought us both tickets!] [This is a singles’ trip. So, no bringing your wife, okay?] The chat showed Nicholas’ elaborate travel plans in full detail. The itinerary he showed me had all been made for Jocelyn over the past two months. In contrast, I had waited for two whole years. Then, I heard his voice from behind. “Honey, the views aren’t great this month. How about we push it to next month instead?” “Don’t bother.” I was calm, but my body was as tense as a rock. “Nicholas, let’s break up.”