Melodramatic

I find cigarette ashes on the passenger seat of my wife's car. She brushes me off, saying, "My new assistant left it there. He's not the most sensible." When I ask for a divorce, she stares at me in disbelief. "Just because of that?" "Yeah. Just because of that!"

While I was bleeding heavily from my miscarriage, the hospital needed a family member to sign some documents urgently. The nurse frantically called my husband on my phone. After more than ten rejected calls, he finally answered, his voice a frustrated yell, "I'm busy! Don't bother me with these little things!" When we tried calling again, I realized he had blocked my number. Despite the pain, I forced myself to sit up and sign the papers. Tragically, our baby couldn't be saved. Later, I saw a viral video of my husband kissing his childhood sweetheart under fireworks. "It was just a silly joke," she said, "but he surprised me by lighting up the whole city with fireworks as a present!" Seeing their matching wedding rings, I wordlessly slipped off the simple ring I'd worn for five years and threw it in the bin. After coming so close to death, he was now insignificant to me.

While accompanying my husband, Austin Lockhart, to his class reunion, we run into his true love, Leticia Gomez. After the gathering, Austin learns that Leticia's been having a tough time. He corners her against a wall and says, "How much do you still owe? Be with me, and I'll give you a hundred grand a month. Is that enough?" I stand quietly at the street corner, capturing their touching reunion on camera. Then, I send the photos to my lawyer. I also forward them to Austin with a simple message. "Since you two are so in love, why not go ahead and marry her?"

On the fifth year of our hidden marriage, I died on the operating table of a hospital belonging to Allen Jones. Before I died, I called him ninety-nine times, begging for help. The last time, he finally answered. His voice was heavy with impatience. "Enough already. First, it's pregnancy, now it's liver cancer. Can you stop making a scene? I'm exhausted from work. "Mia, when did you learn to lie? Do you know how disgusting you are right now? "I'm warning you—if you keep this up, I'll divorce you. Don't even think about coming back home until you admit you're wrong." But this time, I could never go back. Just before the call ended, I heard him comforting Sadie with a gentleness he had never shown me. "Don't be afraid. The surgery will be over soon, and you'll be fine. Once you're out, I'll take you to see your favorite movie and eat at your favorite restaurant. I promised you, and I'll make it all come true." After he hung up, I called him for the hundredth time. He didn't answer. Later, when Allen saw my body on the operating table, he broke down completely.

The System told me that, as a player, I stood a chance of reviving my beloved if I played the game enough times. As such, I gave my heart to charm Mila Gibbs, even if it meant dying ninety-nine times. When I played the game for the hundredth time, Mila sent me into a room with a deviant just for her true love's fancy. "You're not going to die anyway. Just make Julian laugh, and I don't mind marrying you." She didn't know that once I played the game a hundred times, my wish would be granted, success notwithstanding. I shall hence disappear from her world without a trace.

Jenny posted a picture of me and her brother, who had an intellectual disability. The caption? "Finally, a happy ending!" The comments were all the same: "Is this your sister-in-law? She’s gorgeous!" I simply replied with a question mark, but Jenny ignored me and responded to someone else instead. "She's kinda my sister-in-law, yes!" It didn't take long for Steven to call me, his tone full of anger. "It was just a little edit, do you really have to blow things out of proportion?" Half an hour later, Jenny posted another photo of her sitting in Steven's luxury car, and even tagged me in it. "We may not be related by blood, but this big brother of mine has always been my rock!" Steven commented. "I'll always be here." I knew he was trying to get a rise on me on purpose to appease Jenny, but I didn't grace them with a reply this time. All I did was like the post and file for divorce.

I was Randy Johnson's contract wife. For five years, I tried every possible way to make him fall in love with me. But aside from showing me concern in bed, he ignored me the rest of the time. When a piece of equipment at the amusement park fell and struck me, the first thing he did was rush to his beloved first love. She was startled but unscathed. Yet, he rushed her straight to the hospital. When a towering cake display collapsed on me, leaving blood streaming down my arm, he still chose to comfort his first love, who merely had a stomachache. Since he loved her so deeply, there was no reason for me, his contract wife, to stay. So I let him go and freed myself in the process. I chose to study abroad, vowing never to see him again for the rest of my life. I never expected… this time, he would be the one to regret it.

I sustain brain damage from a car crash and end up with a memory akin to a goldfish. However, I remember my feelings for Caleb Warner for seven whole years. Things change when he abandons me on a mountain top after losing a bet with someone. He sneers and says, "Write this in your journal, Sadie. Consider it a lesson learned." It's wintertime, and it's freezing on top of the mountain. I almost die there. I later destroy everything that has to do with Caleb and allow my memories of him to disappear from my mind. … One night, someone by the name of Caleb Warner calls me. My boyfriend jealously pulls me close and asks, "Who's this?" I shake my head dazedly. "I don't know." The person on the other end of the line loses it when he hears my answer.

While I was nine months pregnant, the apple of my husband’s eye moved into our house. Whenever she saw me, she would make a sad face. My husband was sure that I was flaunting my pregnancy to make her angry. “Rachel is frail, and she can’t get pregnant, yet you’re walking around making her upset?! Do I seriously have to teach you a lesson?!” He ordered the bodyguards to lock me in the attic that had not been in use for a long time and told them not to give me food. I pleaded for mercy and told him that the ultrasound scan showed that the twin babies were too big. I told him that the doctor had claimed that I had to be hospitalized while I waited for my delivery. But he laughed as if he had heard the world’s greatest joke. When he spoke, his voice was as cold as ice. “You’re still three days away from your delivery date! Enough with the pitiful act! Repent while you’re in the attic! This is what you get for making Rachel upset!” The contractions hurt so much that I clenched my fists to the point that my nails broke, but no one unlocked the door to the attic. My piercing screams echoed in the attic for a long time until my whole body was soaked in blood, and one of my babies was stuck between my bloody legs. Three days later, my husband ate his breakfast that was not up to his taste and said, “Have Jane make breakfast for me, then have her apologize to Rachel with a gift. If she’s sincere enough, I’ll send her to the hospital to deliver the babies.” But no one dared go up to the attic because the blood that flowed down from it had already reached the second step of the stairs.

My son accidentally ate peanuts and suffered a severe allergic reaction. I threw away all the anti-allergy medication in the house and even hung up when he called 911 for help. I watched helplessly as his airway swelled shut and he suffocated to death. In my previous life, when my son struggled to breathe, I immediately drove him to the hospital. After an intense rescue effort, he survived, and I finally breathed a sigh of relief. However, my mother-in-law stormed in, furious, accusing me of being a monster and blaming me for nearly killing him. I hurried to explain that he was fine. Yet, when I presented the doctor's report and discharge paperwork, I was horrified to discover that they had turned into a death certificate. My son, who had been resting safely in the ICU, was gone. He had somehow appeared in the morgue. Refusing to accept it, I checked the surveillance footage. However, the footage clearly showed that my son never left the operating room. Instead, it was just me, talking to myself the entire time. I had no idea what was happening. No one believed me. They locked me in a psychiatric hospital. In the end, as my condition worsened, a swarm of frenzied patients attacked me and tore me apart alive.