A Poem That Has No Title

By the second year of my marriage to Quentin Lambert, we had a son. Fast forward five years, and I was basically a human cookbook, agonizing over every pinch of salt like it was rocket science. One night, Quentin tossed out, "Too much salt." And our son? He didn't even blink—he dumped the whole pot down the drain right in front of me. That's when it hit me—pure exhaustion, like a tidal wave. I told Quentin I wanted a divorce. He didn't even bother looking up. "Is that really necessary?" I nodded, my voice flat. "It is."

Dos semanas antes de la boda, Nelson decidió posponerla una vez más. —Ivana inaugura su primera exposición de arte ese día —me dijo—. Estará sola y nerviosa. Tengo que estar ahí para apoyarla. Al final, tú y yo ya estamos juntos, ¿qué más da casarnos un día antes o después? Pero ya era la tercera vez que aplazaba nuestra boda por aquella mujer. La primera, Ivana acababa de operarse y sentía nostalgia de la comida de su tierra, por lo que Nelson no dudó en viajar al extranjero y quedarse con ella durante dos meses. La segunda, Ivana decidió irse al bosque en busca de inspiración para pintar y él, preocupado por su seguridad, fue tras ella. Esta era la tercera. Colgué la llamada y miré a César, mi amigo de toda la vida, quien se encontraba sentado frente a mí, relajado, jugando con su bastón de esmeralda, cuyo golpeteo en el piso de mármol rompía el silencio entre nosotros. —¿Todavía necesitas esposa? —le pregunté, sonriendo con picardía. El día de mi boda, Ivana sonreía radiante, copa en mano, esperando el brindis del hombre a su lado. Pero él, con los ojos rojos, observaba en silencio la transmisión en vivo de la boda del heredero del Grupo Santos, el imperio inmobiliario más grande del país.

Sam and Nora were childhood friends whose bond was sealed with an arranged marriage. But soon after, Sam’s warmth fades, leaving Nora alone in a cold, distant relationship. His connection to Isabella, a woman from his past, casts a shadow over their marriage, fueling suspicions and driving them apart. After a heartbreaking divorce, Nora tries to rebuild her life, and just as her high school crush, Daniel, reappears, offering hope for a fresh start, Nora finds herself entangled in a secret that could change everything. As past emotions resurface and new complications arise, Nora must navigate the tangled web of love, loyalty, and deception. Can she move on from Sam, or is their story far from over?

Regresé a ese momento de mi vida en que mi tío político —con quien no tengo lazos de sangre— había sido drogado con esa droga afrodisíaca. Pero esta vez, no me convertí en su “antídoto”. En lugar de eso, marqué el número de la mujer que él realmente amaba. En mi vida anterior, me enamoré perdidamente de él. Cuando supe que había sido drogado, ignoré su súplica de llamar a su gran amor… y fui yo quien calmó su deseo. Un mes después, quedé accidentalmente embarazada. Por lo que él se vio obligado a casarse conmigo, pero el día de la ceremonia de nuestra boda, su amada —que había viajado al extranjero para olvidar su dolor— fue secuestrada y asesinada. Antes de morir, le hizo ciento noventa y nueve llamadas pidiendo ayuda. Él, que estaba ocupado cumpliendo con la boda, no contestó ninguna. Después… solo se quedó mirando aquellas llamadas perdidas, sin decir una palabra. Hasta que, el día que tenía que dar a luz, me encerró en el sótano. Le rogué que me llevara al hospital. Pero él solo sonrió, con esa frialdad que jamás olvidaré, mientras me veía morir lentamente, sin poder traer al mundo a nuestro hijo. Sus últimas palabras antes de que cerrara los ojos y muriera fueron: —Si no hubieras quedado embarazada, nunca me habrían obligado a casarme contigo. Si no fuera por ti, habría contestado las llamadas de Luz y, ella no habría terminado así. Tú… mereces morir. Y entonces, volví a abrir los ojos. Era ese mismo día, el día en que él había sido drogado con ese medicamento afrodisíaco.

Itinakwil ng ama kaya't anim na taong nawala sa Pilipinas si Jenna. Kailangan lang niyang bumalik ng bansa dahil sa trabaho. Hindi niya naman akalain na magugulong muli ang buhay niya nang bumalik ng bansa lalo pa at bumalik uli ang ala-ala ng nakaraang gusto na niyang kalimutan. Dumagdag pa sa sakit ng ulo niya ang "out of the blue" na proposal ng isang Zian Walton Escobar. Ni hindi niya personal na kilala ang lalaki kaya't ipinagtataka niya ang pag-alok nito ng kasal sa kanya. Hindi na sana niya sasakyan ang kahibangan ng lalaki dahil maaaring pinag-tripan lang siya nito lalo pa't alam niyang isa sa pinakamayaman sa bansa ang angkan nito. Ang tanging nakapagpukaw ng interes niya ay ang malaking pagkakahawig nito sa anak niyang si Xavier. Sino nga ba si Zian Walton Escobar?

Tamara Ayudissa, Seorang gadis berumur 16 tahun menjalani hidupnya bersama luka dan sisa pengkhianatan yang ayahnya lakukan, yang tak pernah merasakan apa itu arti keluarga sesungguhnya. Ibunya, ayahnya dan juga saudaranya sendiri meninggalkannya untuk hidup berjuang sendirian, tanpa siapapun. Namun, dia telah menemukan harapannya pada seseorang, yang selalu ada di sisinya, yang selalu menjadi alasan untuknya terus bertahan. Tapi apakah Tamara akan bertahan sampai akhir? Mampukah harapannya bertahan dan terus menjadi alasan untuknya tetap hidup? Cover by : Pinterest

She loves him, but he hates her. Heartbroken and despaired, she goes away after he breaks her family apart and leaves her disfigured. When she comes back again, she swears to take back everything that should be hers!But inside the dimly lit room, the man scoffs. "You owe it to me!"She feels like crying, but the tears just won't come. She has come back for revenge … but … but her scum ex-husband is way too clingy! What should she do? Help!

“Richard, if Lynn and I were hit by a car at the same time, who would you save first?” I once asked, curled up in his arms, teasing like a spoiled pup. He just scoffed, ruffling my hair. “That kind of situation doesn’t exist.” But when blinding headlights tore through the rain— He didn’t hesitate. He shielded Lynn in his embrace, and I was thrown into the blood-soaked street. Through the agony, I heard my phone buzz. A message from him: [What tantrum are you throwing now? Why didn’t you come to Moonstone today?] While the machines beeped beside me, I caught the sound of his gentle voice drifting from the next room—comforting her. “Don’t be afraid. I just reacted to the person closest to me.” That was the moment I wiped away bloody tears with a smile. Fine, Richard. Then you’ll watch with your own eyes—ten days from now, when I put on a wedding dress, it won’t be for you. It’ll be for your sworn enemy, the Alpha of Bloodmoon. On the eve of the ceremony, a helicopter thundered down onto the estate balcony. He kicked open my door, yanked my wrist with his tie. “Come with me.”

Richard Lorde’s childhood friend had just become a widow. On our fifth wedding anniversary, he brought his childhood friend and her daughter into a karaoke box and removed my ring right before everyone. “Lily needs a proper status right now. It’s no longer right for you to wear that ring. “Resign from your job tomorrow and take care of Lily and her daughter.” Everyone in the room fell silent as they waited for me to blow my top off. But I said nothing. I calmly brought out the divorce agreement I had already signed, put it on the table, and left. My best friend stood up to advise me against it, but Richard just swung the wine glass and snorted. “Let her. She’ll come begging for my forgiveness before tomorrow.” When I slammed the door shut, I heard laughter from the room. What they did not know was that half an hour ago, I had received a message telling me that my visa application had been approved. The person in charge of picking me up had been waiting at my house ten minutes ago. This time, I was not turning back.

The day before Chris Carter and I were supposed to get engaged, my parents sent me to prison. Three years later, when I was finally released, Chris was the only one who came to pick me up. I knew he despised me. I trembled, keeping my head down, hoping to slip away unnoticed. But he blocked my path, frowning. “Emily York? You stink.” He pinched his nose and told me to get in the car. I fell to my knees, desperately begging him not to take me home. If he did, I would die. He looked at me with chilling indifference and said, “Then go ahead and die.” I agreed. But later, he cried and begged me to stay alive.