Bo-ra Reply 1988 Novels & Stories

After I accidentally uploaded a rant post instead of my resignation letter, the messages went like this. Me: [Did you see the file I submitted?] He: [Mm… yeah. I saw it.] Me: [Then why didn't you reply? You don't approve?] He went quiet. I lost my patience and typed back, [If you're not saying anything, I'll take that as a yes. I'll come by your office this afternoon.] He replied almost instantly. [That fast?] Me: [Fast? How is that fast?] He: [I need some time to think.] Two seconds later, another message came in. [Is that okay?] I said yes. He ended up leaving work early and even gave the entire company three days off. Sitting at my desk, I thought about it for a long time. He was the owner of the company, yet there he was, acting like he was afraid I might leave. Was he really that desperate to keep me?

On the very day I sold my company shares to raise money for my wife’s medical treatment, my phone flashed with a notification about a trending post. "My husband or my lover, which should I choose?" An anonymous reply shot to the top of the comments. "Why choose? I want both." What followed was a casual, shameless confession. A staged car accident right after the wedding, a fake overseas treatment plan, parents who helped maintain the lie, and millions siphoned off under the excuse of life-saving medical fees. The money was never for treatment. It funded luxury vacations, hotel suites, and a long-term affair. Someone asked if she was afraid her husband would find out. Her answer was chilling. "Why would I be afraid? He thinks he took my first time and swore to take responsibility for me forever. He doesn’t know it was just a repair surgery I did for his sake." The post ended with a vacation photo. A woman in a bikini, smiling under the sun. And on her waist, a tattoo with the letters 'NG.' The same tattoo worn by my wife.

Forbidd​en Contract Broke and handsome 26 year o‌ld w​r‍iter Ethan Col​e signs a⁠way his body and sou⁠l in a brut‍al live-in assi‌sta​n‍t contra​ct wit⁠h Adrian Vale. A 38 year old CEO who is extremely attractive and has a dangerous kind of charm that pulls people in. No emotions, no desire, total obedience. ⁠One to‌uch a⁠nd the contract is dest‍royed. From the seco​nd Ethan steps i‌nto Adrian’s l⁠uxurious penthouse, the air thickens wi​th​ forbidden hunger​,  Adrian’s sta‌res devour him‌, his l​ow, command​ing voice mak​es Et‍h⁠an’s dick throb aga⁠inst his will. Every late‍ night, every‍ brush of breath on⁠ skin, every sharp order pus‌hes Ethan closer to breakin​g. Until A⁠drian catches him desperatel‍y jerking off and watches in si⁠l⁠ence​. Control shatters,​ what begins a‍s cold power explode‍s into‌ savage obs‍essi‌on:⁠ punishing sp‌ankings, agonising teasing and denial, b​ruisin‌g, ra⁠w f⁠ucks t‍hat lea‌ve Et​han wrecked‍ and leaking​, and possessive aftercare that feels l​ike owner‍sh​ip. Adri‍an bre​aks every rule he⁠ wrote,‍ c⁠l​aimin​g‍ Ethan w‍i​th vicious need while hating how d‌ee​ply he crav⁠es hi⁠m. The more he t‌r‌ies to d‌es‍troy the obsession, the mo‍re viol‌ently they⁠ fall hate, l‍u‌st, pain, and devastating lo⁠ve colliding until neither can s⁠urvive withou‌t th‌e other. ‍A‍ cont​ra⁠ct meant to contro⁠l them has​ bound them in‍ the most filthy, and ruinous way po⁠s‍sibl⁠e. Dar⁠k. Filthy.‌ Ad​dictive. Ex‌treme power exchang​e, relentles​s domin​ance, obses‌sive possession, and r​aw M​M erot⁠ic romance that doe​sn’t hold ba​ck.

He stared at his emotionless flower before guiding two fingers under her chin forcing her to look up in his dark blue eyes. "I am asking you again fiore. Say what I want to hear?" He mumbled carssing her ice cold lips even her body was shivering because of all the torture he gave her a while ago but the girl being herself didn't reply him. "Answer me! Will you say it now?" He warned her that he wouldn't stop until he hear her what he wants but looking in his eyes she emotionlessly replied. "No, Master. I don't love you." An emotionless ice flower of his was the only quest of his life. He wanted nothing more than to conquer her but can he? Or will he end up in a pit of her vicious love which will throw him on his knees for her? Spin off Yes, Master containing Rafael Hunt and Rose Story.

During the long National Day holidays, I planned a Golden Highlands trip for the whole family. I even booked tickets for a luxurious train ride so we could enjoy the scenery. But on departure day, my husband and son vanished. I called my husband. I could hear an airport boarding announcement in the background. My voice trembled. "Where are you?" He panicked and mumbled that the company had an emergency before hanging up. I tried calling again, but the line was busy. The next day, he posted an update on his social media. In the photo, he stood beneath the snowy peaks of Wintercrown with one arm around his old love while the other held our son. The caption read: [If we had been a little braver back then...] A friend commented: [Where is your wife?] I stared at his reply: [She's sick and resting at home.] Three expired train tickets sat on the table as my eyes welled up with tears. A decade of marriage. A pack of lies. It was time to bring it all to a close.

Who isn't happy here ? Me Cansu isn't happy here because my husband doesn't love me. He keep telling me you are special but one can crushed someone's heart who is special in their life. His only headache is his business, his company , his position as CEO. "You are my husband then why she keep touching you, kissing you." "Don't be a brat .I have a dream and this position as CEO is important to me . Stop nagging like a stupid wife" "Now, I am a stupid wife . Is she good in bed or what?" "Control your tongue or ..." he hissed and in reply I slapped him. He jerked me into his body and kissed me hard. "No more kisses Mr. CEO" with saying I detached me from him and challenged him " I am your wife. Let's see who are you after fifteen days, her ceo or my husband?"

For five years, I've been the perfect Luna in the eyes of Ian Stormfang, the Alpha of the Shadowmoon pack. But then, he starts favoring an Omega called Perla Blackwood and allows her to carve her name beside the silver moon tattoo over his heart. That tattoo had once been the mark of the vow he made with his soul to love me forever. The members of the pack mock me for being naive in love. They are all waiting to watch me lose control in hysterics. Perla even sends me a message, urging me to step aside. She writes, "Alpha Ian says he's bored of you. Even in bed, you only know two positions—front and back. I'm right, aren't I, my noble Luna?" I do not bother to reply at all. Instead, I send a message to the rogue at the border. I text, "Help me leave the pack and make sure Alpha Ian can never find me again."

During a game of truth or dare, my boyfriend, Ryan Patel, chose to kiss his childhood friend, Michelle Woods, for three minutes to save her from a penalty. When I found out, I was furious. I called him in tears, confronting him about the unbearable intimacy between them. He remained silent for a long time before speaking coldly, "Are you done crying?" Then, he drove Michelle home. I crouched in the rain, watching couples huddle under umbrellas, and from that moment on, I never contacted Ryan again. Three months later, at an auction, I bought a men's wristwatch. When Ryan heard about it, he chuckled. "Forget it. In three days, I'll go and coax her back myself. She just needs a way out." His friends all sent me messages, congratulating me on how well I had him wrapped around my finger. I didn’t reply to any of them. I simply posted a picture in my feed—my newly issued marriage certificate.

I, Julian Manning, am the top salesman at a car dealership, and I never refuse any customer's request. But today, I turn away a regular customer who comes in for a free maintenance service. My colleague is stunned. "Are you crazy? He's our biggest client who's about to buy the only 4-million-dollar top spec car in the store!" I nod and reply, "That's right. He's exactly the one I'm refusing." When the store manager sees the customer, Marvin Haas, angrily raise his phone to file a complaint, he rushes over to smooth things over. "Mr. Haas, please calm down. He's new and doesn't know better. Please come inside, I'll personally take care of everything..." I step to the side and block the entrance. "No. If you let him in, I'll resign right now." Marvin's face turns red with anger, and he points a trembling finger at. "I'm just here for a free maintenance. Is this really necessary?" I meet his gaze and say solemnly, word by word, "Yes, it is."

On Christmas Eve, my six-year-old, Yule, was dying from cancer, and all he wanted was a gift from his dad dressed as Santa. I called Peter, my husband, begging him to come. His reply? "Can you stop blowing up my phone? I don't have time for this! I'm helping Tracey find Puffy. Do you know how upset she is?" Oh, Tracey. His first love. And Puffy? Her dog. I told him Yule might not make it through the night. His response? A straight-up dagger: "Don't act like this isn't your fault, Freya. If Yule hadn't kicked Puffy, none of this would've happened. Tomorrow, make sure he apologizes to Tracey." Then he hung up. That night, I sat with Yule, crying as I helped him celebrate his last Christmas. By morning, Peter's social medias were still full of posts about that freaking dog. Mine? Yule's obituary. Ten years of marriage, gone.