Books On Growth

Herbert Fischer lets his precious childhood sweetheart dump scalding stew all over me as everyone watches. Worse, he tells me to apologize, all because I said one harsh sentence to her. Tears stream down my face as I ask him, "Is my life worth less than a hair on her head?" He snorts. "Stop overthinking. It's just hot stew—you won't die from a few burns."

At the full moon party before our marking ceremony, my mate Lucas got wasted. I went to pick him up, just like we agreed. Only to walk in on him burying his face in his first love’s neck, marking her with his scent. "Don't ever leave me again, Willow. My wolf only wants you." His first love shot me a triumphant smirk and shoved him into my arms. "Your mate is here. You should go." But Lucas, hiding behind his drunkenness, just looked at me with disgust. "You're the only one for me, Willow! She's just some lowly half-blood Omega. She's just my ride home, don't worry about her." I swallowed my humiliation and took him home, only to find out he wasn't drunk at all. He claimed he only said those things to appease Willow, for the sake of her pack's power. I just turned away. So on the day we were supposed to be bound for life, I ran. If Lucas was still hung up on his first love, then I would grant him his wish and disappear. But I never expected that after I left, he would lose his mind, crying and begging for me to come back.

My boyfriend has depression. To help cure him, I pass on the opportunity for a recital abroad. Instead, I accept commercial gigs so I can rake in the cash. After one performance, I see my boyfriend holding hands with a woman who looks like me in a private room. He wears a sharp suit and smiles so brightly that he doesn't even look ill. The people around him cheer and tease him. "You really are different with your true love back in the country. When are you two going to make things official?" "I heard you'd been dating another woman for seven years, though. Do you love her?" Charles Foster smiles indifferently. "I was just having some fun with her. Only an idiot like her would take me seriously." I sob with devastation while hiding behind a door. Suddenly, I feel like a fool for spending seven years with him. I call my mentor, who suggested that I take part in the international piano competition. "I will take part in the competition."

At sixty-five, I got served divorce papers. The same day, my husband Sebastian — decked out in his wedding suit, of all things — popped a handful of sleeping pills in a suicide attempt. For years, we were the perfect couple. The kind of pair neighbors whispered about with envy. I couldn't wrap my head around it. The divorce. The pills. None of it made sense. Not until I found the photo and letter in his pocket.

Due to one phone call, Carl Lorde left me behind in a deserted area on the highway, even though I had been pregnant for four months. I walked to a rest area to ask for help, but in the end, I was unable to keep the baby. I broke down and called Carl, but he kept rejecting my calls. The next day, his childhood friend posted an intimate photo of them lying side by side in bed, with a caption. [With just one call, you’d come over to my side no matter what.] Everyone was waiting for me, Carl’s girlfriend, to make a joke of myself. However, I just wiped away my tears, liked the post, and commented, [Congratulations, you two are a match made in the trash dump. I hope you rot in hell together.]

My husband was tall and handsome, but he had no money to pay his debts. During the five years of our marriage, I sold my house and car for him. We then moved to a dark and humid basement that was only 300 square feet in size. When I got pregnant, I wanted to go for checkups, but he said that there was no need for it, as it was a waste of money. So I gave birth to a baby with a congenital heart condition. In order to get the money for his surgery, I worked three jobs every day. At that time, I noticed that my husband bought a mansion worth 40 million dollars for an influencer, and I finally realized that my husband was no orphan, but the son of the richest man in the country.

On our fifth wedding anniversary, my husband, Damian Pyke, once again left me for his first love. He said, "Taking care of a child alone isn't easy for Waverly. You're both women—can't you show her some understanding?" Not only was I willing to understand Waverly Benson, but I was also ready to step aside entirely so they could raise her child together. So, I packed my bags and applied for an overseas architecture program through my workplace. However, he eventually regretted it, crying and begging me not to go.

When I was 14, my brother, Cole Maxwell, brought home an orphan girl, Jennifer Burke, to repay a debt of gratitude. From that moment on, my life had always taken a backseat to hers. After Jennifer falsely accused me of intending to ruin her reputation and forcing her to commit suicide, Cole slapped me hard across the face before driving me out of the house. "Get out! I don't have a sister like you!" He even gave her the job that was supposed to be mine and the only heirloom our parents left me, just to make her smile. The more I argued with him, the colder he became towards me. When Cole took Jennifer to visit the city without telling me, I chose to say nothing this time, leaving quietly with nothing but a suitcase. When he learned I'd been accepted into Brightmoor Aeronautical University and would never return, he fell apart.

With the return of his memories, my husband, Trevor Beaumont, recalled that he was the Alpha of a wolf pack. He walked away, leaving me with a ruby necklace as compensation. The jewel shimmered amid my sleep, and a tall, burly man stood before me. The compensation came with a hidden bonus after all. Later, I sent a message to my ex. “Thank you for your necklace. The guy inside comes in handy. “We’re getting married, and since you brought us together, we’d hope you can be the best man.” Trevor drove through the night to our wedding venue, veins popping out of his face as despair swallowed him. “Who the hell put the man inside the ruby?”

My fiance, Derrick Lodge, chooses to save me during the typhoon, instead of his first love, Victoria Rayne. My life is saved, but Victoria dies after being struck by flying debris before the rescue team can find her. They aren't even able to find the rest of her body afterward. After going home, Derrick doesn't attend Victoria's funeral and immediately holds a grand wedding for me instead. For the next three years of our marriage, Derrick doesn't stop torturing me because he says that I caused Victoria's death. When I reach my limit and finally ask him for a divorce, Derrick kills me with a gun before killing himself. I open my eyes again and realize that I have traveled back in time. It is the day the typhoon happened, threatening our lives. This time, however, I tell Derrick to save Victoria's life instead.