About Yesterday Caption

Sasha Barlow receives a call from Aidan Gallagher when she leaves the hospital after getting an abortion. He says, "Get ready. Mr. Conley is coming tonight, so bring five bottles of whiskey and three bottles of red wine." Sasha subconsciously clenches her hand around her phone. "Can I skip tonight?" Aidan pauses. "I know you're angry about yesterday, Sasha. Natalie hit you yesterday, but I reprimanded you instead of helping. "You need to remember that she's my girlfriend, though. She comes from a good family, and her parents have always treated her like a princess. She's bound to be a little willful and spoiled. You're older than her, so cut her some slack."

On New Year's Eve, I prepare a feast. The clock strikes twelve, but my husband, Vincent Porter, still isn't home. My daughter, Lorelei Porter, tugs at my sleeve and holds up my phone. "Look Mommy, Daddy is at this lady's house!" Vincent has posted an update on Twitter. He is with Christine Snow, his childhood sweetheart. They are smiling at the camera, with a boy who looks about ten standing between them. In front of them sits a swan-shaped cake. The caption reads, "The most special day for the most special you." My heart sinks into my stomach. A marriage that came later in life can never compete with a pair of childhood sweethearts. I accept defeat.

I went abroad for a year to further my studies and kept in touch with my girlfriend through video calls every day. One day, I saw her first love posted a photo with a caption: [We are finally back together after ten years!] In the photo, my girlfriend was visibly pregnant, holding the arm of the man next to her with a sweet smile.

This Thanksgiving, Elmer Fuller finally agrees to go on a trip with me. But when I wake up in the hotel, I don't see him anywhere. I spend the entire day desperately searching for him, only to stumble across a social media post from his first love. It's a selfie of her and Elmer having a cozy family dinner with her parents. The caption reads, "Someone's finally meeting the parents on Thanksgiving night. Mom and Dad can stop pressuring me to get married now!" Around her neck is the scarf my mother knitted for me before she passed. I left a comment. "Stop using my things to flirt with my husband. Take the scarf off—you can have him." Not long after, she posts an update. The scarf is shredded into pieces and tossed into a dog bed, with the caption, "What trash—too filthy even for a dog!" Elmer likes the post.

I was a plus-size girl, weighing about 220 pounds. On graduation day, I finally gathered the courage to confess my feelings to Calvin Preston, the heartthrob I had been crushing on for three years. Surprisingly, he said yes! To celebrate, we went out that night. But things took a dark turn. I was tricked into drinking too much and was drugged. Calvin and his buddies violated me and, to make matters worse, they filmed it all. The next thing I knew, the video had gone viral online with a cruel caption, “Who’s brave enough to try a 220-pound girl?” As the humiliating video spread like wildfire, the shock and shame were too much for my grandfather to bear. It broke his heart, quite literally.

For five years, I thought our marriage was solid. Then, my husband, Lionel Franco’s first love, Sandra Howard, posted a photo of a property deed on her social media. The caption read: [Thank you, Lionel, for transferring the house to me.] I stared in disbelief and left a single comment: [WTF?] Lionel called within minutes. “She’s a struggling single mother. Transferring the house to her makes it easier for her son to get into school. It doesn’t affect where we live,” he snapped. “How can you be so lacking in compassion?” In the background, I heard her muffled sobs. Half an hour later, she tagged me in another post.  This time, she flaunted her Mercedes worth over a million dollars, with the caption: [Paid in full. As the saying goes, ‘Where a man spends his money, that's where his heart is’.] I knew he bought it to soothe her temper. But this time, I had enough. I decided to divorce him.

By month four of my IVF treatments, my husband's childhood sweetheart posted a picture of herself cradling her baby bump. The caption? [Having a happy ending with my first love. A family of three.] And there he was—his hand in the shot, making a cutesy heart with hers. Oh, and the cherry on top? He was still wearing his wedding ring.

To help my surgeon husband with his erectile dysfunction, I made an appointment with an expert six months in advance. But as the day approached, Isiah Coleman canceled it without explanation. Just as I was about to call him to demand answers, I spotted a post from his female friend on her social media. My usually stoic husband was beaming as he wrapped his arms around her. The caption read: [Only I can cure your illness.] What struck me, though, was the telltale bulge in his pants in the photo—a reaction I'd never seen from him with me. With a cold laugh, I liked the post and left a comment: [What a miracle worker!] The post exploded, with everyone speculating whether I'd confront the mistress. But what awaited him after the holiday was our freshly printed divorce certificate.

Yesterday, my name was Elizabeth Summers. I was 43 years old with a good job that I didn’t like much, but it paid the bills. When I woke up today, I was told my name is Kimberly Sparks. My birth certificate says I’m 24 years old. I don’t have a job or a place to live. But there’s a seriously hot guy taking me home with him. Elizabeth Summers died yesterday in a terrible fire and Kimberly Sparks was born. But I’m not a phoenix; I’m a werewolf. Who knew?

After five years of marriage, my wife’s childhood friend posted a photo of a property deed in his social media circle with the caption, [Thank you, Miss CEO, for transferring the house to me.] I was stunned when I saw the address on the deed—it was my home. Confused, I left a comment. [?] Almost immediately, my wife, Alice, called and scolded me. "He’s a single dad, so pitiful! I only transferred the house to his name to make it easier for his daughter to attend school. It doesn’t affect us living there. How can you be so heartless and lack even a shred of compassion?" In the background, I could hear her childhood friend complaining bitterly. Half an hour later, he posted on social media again and tagged me. This time, he showed off a $150,000 sports car with the caption, [Paid in full! As the saying goes, where a woman spends her money is where her heart lies.] I knew it was my wife who bought him the car to make up for upsetting him. But this time, I’ve made up my mind—I’m filing for divorce.