11 Minutes Mga Nobela at Kwento

On the night before the wedding, New York was washed in cold rain. The rehearsal at St. Patrick's Cathedral had been set for seven o'clock. Under the vaulted ceiling, the white roses, black satin bows, and silver candelabras had all been arranged exactly the way I wanted. But by the time the rehearsal ended, he still hadn't shown up. At 11:17 that night, I finally got a message from him. [Sophia is pregnant. Although the baby isn’t mine, I can’t let her child be born carrying the name of an illegitimate child.] [I went to City Hall with her tonight and made it legal.] [The wedding is still happening tomorrow.] [That piece of paper is just a formality. The person standing at the altar will still be you.] [Don't let outsiders know too much. And don't ruin her reputation.] I stared at those lines for a long time. In the end, I replied with a single word. [Okay.] I don't want the wedding and you.

Ashejan Araullo is the campus’ girlfriend. At a young age, she already had 11 boyfriends. She’s the type to give it all but it seems like the guys don’t really take her seriously. Because of that, her self-esteem goes down and she began questioning if there’s still the right man for her. Until she met Knighton Javier, a transferee who also happens to be her neighbor. He seems to be different from all the men she dated because he was actually a decent man—he likes books and studying. He was a model student, one that Ashejan isn’t. She thought of running away from him because he was different and he didn’t want him to be affected by her status. But Knight was adamant in getting close to her and eventually, fell in love with her. However, not to Ashejan’s knowing, Knight has a deep secret—something that would be a deciding factor in their relationship. Will they live happily ever after? Or will he just be another name on her long list of ex-lovers?

I was the top repair specialist at a luxury goods store. Ninety percent of the shop's revenue came from my work alone. In three years, I turned a run-down little shop on the brink of closing into a nationwide chain. All because I clocked in two minutes late one morning, the newly appointed supervisor, Tom Menzie, locked the front doors and announced he was taking everyone on a company trip. I asked why no one bothered to tell me. Tom sneered, "Well, those who can do more are trusted with more. We're going on vacation. You stay and work overtime. If you can't handle it, then get the hell out!" I was so mad that I laughed. I called the owner directly. "I heard you're firing me."

I was the top engineer at the National Deep-Sea Institute—and the only person in the world with real deep-sea rescue experience. When my younger brother's submarine went down and he called for help from 35,000 feet below, I hung up on him. Then, calm and unhurried, I went straight to the police station and turned myself in for leaking classified research data. A few minutes later, my father called, furious. "Your brother's life is hanging by a thread—where the hell are you?! I demand you to get to the site and save him right now, or you won't see a single penny of the family fortune!" I pulled the blanket over myself and said into the phone, perfectly composed, "Busy. Don't bother me—I'm trying to sleep."

His brunette hair was groomed and trimmed into taper fade and that highlighted his facial details. In other words, he was the reason the word 'perfection' was created. She had just spent 5 minutes and his beauty already intimidated her. She feared what would happen in a year. “When is the interview beginning?" she asked after accessing him from top to bottom. “There would be no interview, miss Wilson. Get ready, we are getting married 2 weeks from now” he blurted out and her mouth dropped in bewilderment. Amelia Wilson, a clumsy waitress gets entangled with a gay Billionaire who has the desperate need to proof his sexuality as straight. What happens when his past lovers starts hunting her one after the other. find out in this story

On my fifth birthday with Zachary Murdock, I sit once again in front of a full table of cold food, just like every year before. Zachary had promised, as always, to spend the day with me. And, as always, he breaks that promise. This year, it's because his childhood sweetheart wanted to shoot a set of "artistic photos". She invited him and a few of his close buddies to be part of it. Without hesitation, he ditches me again and runs straight into her arms. At 11:00 pm, his childhood sweetheart posts a photo to her social media and sets it so that only I can see it. In the picture, four men are in nothing but black briefs and Windsor-knotted ties. They kneel around her while she is draped in sheer fabric like a goddess. The caption reads, "Some people beg for crumbs, but I own the entire bakery." I take a screenshot. Then, I send it to the girlfriends of all three of Zachary’s best buddies. If they all look down on me this much, let's hope they don't end up on their knees begging me someday.

The General Assembly, Recalling its relevant resolutions regarding the question of Palestine, Recalling also its relevant resolutions on the protection of civilians, including resolution 71/144 of 13 December 2016 on the status of the Protocols Additional to the Geneva Conventions of 1949 and relating to the protection of victims of armed conflicts, resolution 72/131 of 11 December 2017 on the safety and security of humanitarian personnel and protection of United Nations personnel and resolution 72/175 of 19 December 2017 on the safety of journalists and the issue of impunity, Recalling further the relevant reports of the Secretary-General, including the most recent report, of 14 May 2018, on the protection of civilians in armed conflict, Recalling all relevant resolutions of the Security Council, including, inter alia, resolutions 242 (1967) of 22 November 1967, 338 (1973) of 22 October 1973, 605 (1987) of 22 December 1987, 904 (1994) of 18 March 1994, 1397 (2002) of 12 March 2002, 1515 (2003) of 19 November 2003, 1544 (2004) of 19 May 2004, 1850 (2008) of 16 December 2008, 1860 (2009) of 8 January 2009 and 2334 (2016) of 23 December 2016,

During a critical heart transplant, my doctor husband insisted his intern assist despite her garish nail art compromising the sterile field. When I called her out, he abandoned the patient mid-surgery to comfort her. I begged him to return, but he snapped, "Giselle is upset. Can't you wait? This is nothing compared to her feelings." 40 minutes later, the patient bled out and died. Later, they discovered that he was our highly respected mayor and placed the blame on me. "If it weren't for you causing a scene and kicking us out of the operating room, the mayor wouldn't have bled to death. This is all your fault!" Defenseless, I was sentenced to life in prison, tortured, and died in agony. My husband and his intern walked down the aisle, enjoying their happy life. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day of that fateful surgery.

In the third year of my relationship with Dante Santoro, heir to the Santoro family fortune, I got pregnant. The night before the Don's birthday banquet, he finally brought me home as his girlfriend. Giulia Costa, the housekeeper's daughter, smiled sweetly and asked about my food allergies. I mentioned I was allergic to truffles. In the end, every dish at dinner was loaded with truffles. I swallowed my irritation and grabbed a slice of cake that looked safe. Two bites in, I heard her laugh. "I got creative and mixed truffle powder into the frosting. How is it?" Before I could answer, my throat closed up and I could not breathe. Giulia gasped and covered her mouth. "Ms. Leone, your skin is turning purple! Do you have some kind of contagious disease?" Everyone watched as I was carried out like trash. The moment my allergic reaction cleared up, Giulia insisted on helping me pack. I told her multiple times not to touch my ring. In the few minutes I spent in the bathroom, she "accidentally" knocked it down the drain. That was the wedding ring Dante gave me. I lost my temper and confronted her, but Dante just laughed it off. "She's jealous of your pretty ring. Don't be so petty." That night, Giulia brought sleep-aid drinks to my room as an apology. Dante convinced me to accept her peace offering. I drank a few cups and felt drowsy almost immediately. When Giulia walked me back to my room, I told her to lock the door behind her. Ten minutes later, a group of men shoved their way inside and beat my stomach until I miscarried. The baby was gone. Giulia's eyes filled with tears as she claimed she never saw anyone enter. She said I never wanted the Santoro family to have an heir and had orchestrated my own abortion. Dante went white with rage and ordered his men to dump me in the ocean. When I opened my eyes again, it was the night before the banquet.

On the night of her engagement, Gianna Moretti’s world shatters—her fiancé tangled in bed with her best friend, her family ready to cast her aside, her future ripped away. But when she crosses paths with Dante Russo—the ruthless heir to New York’s most powerful fashion empire—one impulsive choice changes everything. In twenty minutes, Gianna goes from betrayed bride to Mrs. Russo. Their marriage is a deal. No love. No betrayal. Just survival. But the deeper Gianna is pulled into Dante’s world of wealth, secrets, and ruthless ambition, the more blurred the lines between revenge and desire become. As her step-sister plots murder, her ex-fiancé claws his way back from ruin, and long-buried family secrets claw their way to the surface, Gianna must decide: will she be a pawn in their game—or the queen who burns their empire to the ground?