Anonymous Stories

My girlfriend, Camille Chaney, gets pregnant right before the college entrance exam starts. In my previous life, I gave up on my college entrance exam and married Camille. We had a son together. Life might be nitty-gritty, but it was still rather fulfilling for me. When I was on my deathbed, Camille and her first love, Howard Salter, dropped by to visit me. "Thank you for raising our son for more than 20 years. Now, you may die in peace." Camille pulled the plug on my life support at that moment. She watched as I slowly suffocated to death. When I open my eyes again, I find out that I've returned to the timeframe when the college entrance exam is about to take place. This time, I slam the door shut in Camille's face when I hear her asking me to take responsibility for her pregnancy. "Go find someone else to play house with you. I'm not interested in becoming a father at all."

หนึ่งเดือนก่อนแต่งงานกับแฟนหนุ่ม เขากลับต้องการมีลูกกับรักแรกของเขา ฉันไม่เห็นด้วย เขาก็เอาเรื่องนี้มาพร่ำบ่นให้ฟังทุกวัน จนกระทั่งครึ่งเดือนก่อนวันแต่งงาน ฉันก็ได้รับใบตรวจครรภ์ ถึงได้รู้ว่ารักแรกของเขาตั้งครรภ์ได้เกือบหนึ่งเดือนแล้ว ที่แท้เขาก็ไม่เคยคิดที่จะขอความเห็นชอบจากฉันตั้งแต่แรกแล้ว และในตอนนั้นเอง ความสัมพันธ์ที่ยาวนานหลายปีก็เหมือนหมอกควันที่จางหายไป ด้วยเหตุนี้ ฉันจึงยกเลิกงานแต่งงาน ทำลายความทรงจำทั้งหมดระหว่างเรา ตัดสินใจเข้าร่วมห้องปฏิบัติการวิจัยที่ตัดขาดจากโลกภายนอกในวันแต่งงาน นับจากนี้ไป ฉันไม่เกี่ยวข้องอะไรกับเขาอีก!

The day I found out I wasn't really an Adelson, Sharon—their real daughter—stormed in and stabbed me—over and over. Just like that, my shot at being a mom? Gone. Chuck Benetton, my fiancé, lost it. My parents swore they'd disown her. To "comfort" me, Chuck proposed on the spot. My parents handed me the severance letter—Sharon officially disowned—and told me to just focus on healing. Later, they said Sharon had run off and gotten trafficked in Nyamara, some hotspot for scams and lost souls. They said it served her right. And yeah... I believed them. Six years into the lie, I saw her—very much alive, baby bump and all, curled up against my husband like she owned him. "If I hadn't snapped back then, Yasmine never would've married you, " she said. "Thank God you and Mom and Dad backed me. Otherwise, that imposter would've landed me in jail. "She probably never guessed I've been right here, carrying your baby. Once I give birth, just fake an adoption. She can nanny our kid forever. "Thanks for everything, Chuck." She smiled like he was her hero. And he blushed. "Don't thank me. Marrying her was the only way to protect you. I'd do it all again." So yeah. The guy I thought loved me? He was always lying. My "parents"? They only cared about Sharon. If that's love, I want nothing to do with it.

The apocalypse has arrived. I carry multiple special abilities and am humanity's hope. However, my wife tears those powers out of me for the sake of her true love. I'm in unbearable pain. I beg her to stop, telling her I'll die. But she doesn't care at all. "Why are you so selfish? You have so many abilities and won't even give one to Ed. Stop being so dramatic. Why do you get to be the hero while my Ed stays an ordinary person?" What she doesn't know is that each special ability is like a heart—take it away, and the person dies.

On the day we were supposed to get our marriage license, Michael Robertson ghosted. I sat outside the County Clerk's Office for hours. Instead of him, I got a pic from his secretary, Kallie Clunt. She was in his lap, arms wrapped around him, making out like it was the hottest scene in a drama. [Sorry, Elsa. Michael said he had to comfort my broken heart. You don't mind, do you?] When I asked him about it, he just looked annoyed. "She gave me blood once. What's the big deal if I hang out with her? Can't you be a little more understanding?" My stomach dropped. I turned away and called his older brother. "Leon, do you still want to marry me?"

In my last life, my Alpha husband despised me for giving him a “tainted” Omega Black Werewolf. So, he murdered our newborn with his own hands and then tore me apart with silver-quenched claws. As I lay dying, I cursed him to eternal damnation, and with my own eyes, I watched as his body sank into the frozen depths of Moonshine Lake alongside mine. When I opened my eyes again, I was back at the bonding ceremony—the day he was supposed to choose his mate. This time, he didn’t hesitate at all. He chose my sister, a Beta Gray Werewolf whose bloodline sat just one step above an Omega’s, and the way he looked at me was nothing but bone-deep disgust. I knew then that he had been reborn, too. In my last life, my sister was just an ordinary Beta, while I was a Silvermoon Alpha, one of the highest bloodlines, second only to the legendary Golden Lycan. Back then, he chose me without hesitation. However, my sister later married a regular Alpha and somehow gave birth to a golden pup, earning the envy of the entire pack. Meanwhile, I married him and gave birth to a low-rank Omega Black Werewolf, making him the laughingstock of the Werewolf Alliance. This time, he thinks choosing my sister will give him that golden pup again, but what he doesn’t know is that a body is only a shell. Blood doesn’t lie. A bloodline tainted by Omega can never forge a true descendant of a Golden Lycan.

My husband finally thinks about me three years after my death. The reason? His childhood sweetheart's leukemia has relapsed, and she needs another bone marrow transplant. He comes to my place, wanting to make me sign a donor agreement. However, he finds that the place has long been vacated. He asks a neighbor about it. "Are you talking about Kristen? She's long dead! I heard it was because someone dragged her away for a bone marrow donation when she was already sick. She died a few days after returning home." My husband refuses to believe that. He thinks my neighbor and I have conspired to lie to him. He says impatiently, "If you see her, tell her I won't pay the medical bills for that child she's been raising if she doesn't come to see me in three days." My neighbor shakes her head when she sees how stubborn my husband is. She mutters, "The poor child has already starved to death, though…"

Princess Vionna of Aurenza was dead. She died in the estate of Theron Thornefell, Warden of the North—buried beneath snow and silence. The blizzard raged for seven days before it eased, uncovering her frostbitten body beneath the drifts. Even in death, she was curled around her swollen belly, one arm reaching toward the nearest gates. No one came. She and the unborn child were frozen to death. Left behind. As the cold took her, regret cut deep. She never should've loved him. Never should've bowed. Because of her, the child never saw the sky. If she had another life, she'd never look his way again.

"Moon Goddess, I'd like to go home," says Seraphina Jarett. The Will of the Moon Goddess speaks to her in her mind. She doesn't reply in any form of language. Instead, it is a calm and saddened torrent of consciousness. "Alright, my child. Your mission is about to be completed. In a week, your soul can leave this place." The usually authoritative voice pauses for a few seconds, which is a rare occurrence. Unable to understand my choice, she says, "My child, you have a mate who loves you deeply and sees you as the light of his life. Your pup puts you first in everything. Isn't this your home now? They are your family… your pack." When Seraphina hears the word "family", her gaze lands on the Moon Pool that is in the middle of the room. At the moment, the pool is showing the Alpha of the Blackwood pack, Caelum Blackwood, and his son, Liam Blackwood, touching down in the pack's private airport.

I died in the year my husband hated me most. Unable to endure his endless silent treatment any longer, I swallowed a bottle of pills and ended my life. At the crematorium, watching the flames roar inside the furnace, he allowed himself a rare smile. “Someone as vile as her doesn’t deserve to be laid to rest whole.” So when the staff handed him the urn, he flipped it over. My ashes scattered across the floor in an instant. All this time, he had believed I was responsible for the death of his first love. That belief was why he had schemed and plotted for years, all for this precise moment of final desecration. When it was over, he stepped over my ashes and walked away without looking back. Though not long after that, he fell to his knees and begged the crematorium to give my ashes back to him.