Ambiguous

While cleaning Desmond Maynard's house, I accidentally knocked over his mother's keepsake. He once told me it was his most precious possession. But when I picked it up, hundreds of love letters spilled out. There were beautiful poems, passionate lyrics, and heartfelt confessions. He had written one letter a week without stopping. On the back of each one wrote a line: To My Love, Bunny. The nickname rang a bell. It was his junior in college. Things started to make sense. I slaved away for 13 years, running his household and caring for his family, but Desmond never even said he liked me. That was because he already had someone he liked. I sorted the letters by date, put them back, and grabbed my phone to make a call. "Mom, I'm in for the marriage proposal."

During the New Year's Eve dinner, my pineapple juice was secretly swapped for alcohol. But I had taken cephalosporin earlier on. The doctors used a lot of effort to save me, but my wife, Jennifer Robinson, shielded the person who was responsible behind her. "This matter ends here. Be generous and forgive him. He didn't do it on purpose." I didn't plan on letting this man off so easily. He had an ambiguous relationship with my wife. But Jennifer interrupted me with a frown. "That's enough! He's only a fresh graduate. What's the point of making a fuss? Do you have to ruin the rest of his life to feel satisfied?" I looked at how my wife was protecting him and my heart sank. "Then you two can spend the rest of your lives together."

My heart shattered when I learned my daughter was pimping herself out. I couldn't imagine the young woman I thought of as a precious princess lying beneath an ugly, middle-aged man. It was such a horrific scene…

SPG ALERT ❗ WARNING: Viewer discretion is advised. Contains graphic sex scenes, mature contents, adult language and situation intended for mature readers only. Scarlet was an office assistant in a big corporation; however, she was constantly bullied by her co-workers. She's the one bringing coffee, photocopying documents, and doing all the chores in her department. When Scarlet's best friend invited her and decided to celebrate her birthday in a highly reputable and exclusive male strip club, she had no choice but to agree. There she met a masked male stripper. He danced her seductively and sweaty. As if possessed, she found herself lurking backstage and secretly observing the man behind the mask. The man was bizarre and ambiguous, but in the end, she managed to see his face. Shocked was evidence in her face. She could not believe what she saw— "It's her boss, the CEO of the corporation."

Scott Maynard and I were in love for eight years. I once believed he was my soulmate. We joined Doctors Without Borders together and ventured into war zones side by side. But everything changed the day Piper Ellison appeared. To protect her, he shoved me into danger during a rebel siege, using me as a scapegoat. Then, he fled the country with Piper, and left me to rot in the prison. Three years later, Miles rescued me. Yet upon returning home, the first thing I saw was Scott staging an elaborate proposal, surrounded by nine thousand roses. He twisted the truth about what had happened in Asternis, and those around us believed him. I revealed my wedding ring, and Miles stepped forward to shield me. Despite that, Scott still refused to let go. He became obsessed and relentless, even threatening his own life to force me back. This love, riddled with betrayal and cruelty, finally came to a complete end with his death.

When my pilot boyfriend canceled our wedding for the 18th time, I finally snapped. The first time, his trainee got her period, and he bailed on me just to take care of her. The second time, she messed up a task, and all he said was, "Jan's upset", before walking out and leaving me to face our wedding guests alone like some kind of joke. We've been together for three years, and every single time she had an issue, he dropped our wedding plans to rush to her side. Finally, it hits me—maybe I never really mattered to him. So I make up my mind to see the world on my own and book a flight to Pavrielle. At least this way, no one will get the chance to leave me behind again.

I had been married to Natasha Bates for ten years, and not once did she ever join me for our family's Independence Day cookout. This year, on the night before the celebration, I finally gathered the courage to ask if she wanted to come. She scoffed and said, "What are you, stuck in the past? Who even celebrates the Fourth with a family dinner anymore?" Yet that very evening, I saw a social media post of Natasha with her male best friend, Stanley Rogers. They were quite intimate in the picture, and the caption read: [True happiness is celebrating Independence Day with your bestie!] I commented back: [Hope you two lovebirds make it official soon.] Stanley did not hold back. He messaged me a bunch of intimate photos of the two of them. Then, he added, [You're just a leech living off his wife. What right do you have to question anything about Nattie?] Everyone always thought I was a gold-digger living off Natasha's success. However, they all forgot that I was the sole major shareholder of the company. This time, I’m done staying silent.

To my parents, I was their obedient and kind daughter. To my students, I was their gentle and understanding piano teacher. To my audience, I was the star performer at the cabaret. Of all these different identities, my favorite was by far the last. I enjoyed the hungry gazes that fell on me, searing my skin like flames. I enjoyed the juxtaposition between my different identities, never tired of playing different roles. In a sense, I was born to act, and I was passionately devoted to each of my identities. So, won't you come watch me dance?

My almost 50-year-old mother-in-law has recently gotten a new boyfriend. He's young, handsome, and has washboard abs. Just as I think she's finally hit the jackpot and found her true love, he climbs into my bed in the middle of the night…

During a surgical procedure to remove the skin tag from my private part, I accidentally exposed my "manhood." Since then, I've noticed quite a few young nurses sneaking glances my way. Still, none have been as daring as her, showing up at my door in the dead of night.