Books To Read When Heartbroken

When the college admission notice arrived, I suddenly developed a high fever and was bedridden. My sister encountered a kidnapping on her way to help me collect the notice, and her life was uncertain. My parents hated me deeply. After tearing up my admission notice, they forced me to give up my studies and work in a factory. Later, I experienced a kidnapping as well. After narrowly escaping, I hid in an abandoned factory and sent them a message for help. My dad called me and shouted at me without restraint, “Lena, are you even human? How could you play such a joke on us on Jessica's memorial day!” “Do you have any idea how much your mom and I wished it had been you who died back then?” In my last moments before death, their insults echoed in my ears. I was tortured and killed, turned into a monster, and my body was thrown into a stinking ditch for three full days. Even my father, the most experienced forensic expert, couldn’t recognize me. When my sister returned home with the guy she eloped with years ago, my dad had just restored my appearance through technology. They knelt before my decaying corpse and cried until they fainted.

On the day of our wedding, Liam Hopkins’ childhood sweetheart stood by the bridge, threatening to take her own life. The moment he hung up the phone, he was ready to leave. Desperately, I clung to his sleeve. “Liam, if you walk out that door, it’s over between us!” “Diana! This is a matter of life and death. I’ll marry you, but don’t make a scene!” With those words, he turned and rushed away, leaving me standing alone. Determined, I spun around and completed the wedding vows with another man. But later, he dared to ask why I didn’t wait for him. I laughed coldly. “Belated love? It’s cheaper than dirt.”

The Clan Healer told me that without the vial of Progenitor's Blood, the Blood Blight afflicting me meant I had only seventy-two hours to live. But my husband, Miles, the new Duke of our world, gave the only vial of the precious cure to my adopted sister, Vivienne, the woman I had turned three years ago. "She's in agony from the rejection, Isolde. It's a pain you can't possibly understand." His tone was self-righteous, devoid of any concern for the patch of skin on my collarbone already turning to stone. I nodded, watching as the life-saving, dark red liquid slid down another woman's throat. I accomplished a great deal in the time I had left. As I signed the documents, the lawyer's hand trembled. "Are you certain you want to transfer everything, Your Grace? The territorial rights of a thousand-year-old clan..." I didn't hesitate. "Yes. To Vivienne." My adopted daughter, Lily, the girl I had risked everything to save, who was now forever frozen at the age of eight, cowered in Vivienne's arms, pointing at me and screaming, "Aunt Vivienne is my real mommy! You're the witch who turned us into monsters!" I offered no defense. "Yes, that's right. Be a good girl and listen to your new mother now." The Progenitor's Ring, the symbol of the clan's supreme authority, now rested on Vivienne's hand. "Oh, sister, you're too kind," she sobbed, her sobs a practiced performance. "I'll be sure to protect the family in your stead." I nodded. "You'll run things better than I ever did." I even signed away my control over the Elder Council, a council sustained by my own blood. For the first time in a century, a shadow of complex emotion crossed Miles's face. He stared at me,"Isolde, stop fighting. It's better this way. You need to rest." Yes. On my deathbed, I had finally become the perfect, submissive Isolde they always wanted. An Isolde who was about to turn to dust. The seventy-two-hour countdown had begun. I wondered, when I finally turned to ash,

SYNOPSIS He has Alexithymia; the inability to identify and describe ones emotions. He doesn’t understand what it means to feel happy or sad or excited neither does he know how to express them. Smiles and laughs are like riddles to him cause all he can understand is pain… nothing else but pain. He is Holden Smith, CEO of the biggest and most successful game company in China. She has Amnesia and Kleptomania ( the recurrent failure to resist the urge to steal). She steals whatever she comes across; gold, silver, wood, paper and even a needle. She also have a big horrible scar on her face which she does everything possible to keep from the world. Her name is Raven Scott. These two crosses part with each other, having one thing in common; they are BROKEN and DEPRESSED. Unknown to them, their lives got ruined due to one same horrible mistake done eighteen years ago… It’s a scar in their hearts enough to kill them…it’s their lethal guilt. But will they be able to heal?...

A certified fuckboy, 'yan si Nicklaus Royce Villasis. Hindi siya kontento sa isa, gusto niya maraming putahe ang nakahain sa kanya. Kaya nagimbal siya ng sabihin ng kanyang ama na ikakasal na siya! Sa babaeng mas lalaki pa kung manapak sa kanya! Fuck! Mababaliw na siya. Ang kalayaang ine-enjoy niya mukhang matitigil na, at ayaw niyang mangyari 'yon dahil alam niya sa sarili na kahit kailan hindi siya makokontento sa isa. Pero mukhang kakainin niya ang lahat ng sinabi ng ma-in love siya sa asawa!

Growing up, my mother always told me — choose your fated mate. Otherwise, you'll end up betrayed. But I was convinced Lennox was different. After all, he was willing to give up his position as Alpha for me. So I gave up my own fated mate for him. I even nearly died saving his life, and the injuries left my wolf permanently dormant. But barely two years later, rumors about him and an Omega named Alice were everywhere. And because my wolf was dormant, I couldn't sense a thing. I didn't find out he'd broken our vows until Alice showed up at my door with a pregnancy test. The whole Stonebrook Pack was laughing behind my back. Lennox dropped to his knees, eyes red and swollen. "I'm sorry. I was drunk that night. I'll make her end the pregnancy. I swear." I looked down at our one-year-old son in my arms. I nodded and forgave him — that one time. After that, he behaved. He was attentive, affectionate, doting — until one day, five years later, when I was at the gym. A young woman on the machine beside me was whining. "Everything down there gets so loose after having a baby. I really need to tighten things up." I didn't bother looking at her face. I let out a quiet laugh and started to leave. Then her phone rang. She answered, her voice coy and flirtatious. "So, Alpha Lennox — when are you finally going to end things with that woman? She's old, and she's lost her wolf. Can she even satisfy you?" "Of course not. I miss you so much, baby." I froze mid-step at the sound of his voice.

In a world where werewolves ruled, Magnus Grayson, a notorious womanizer, found himself mated to Lara Jade, a Beta known for her playgirl ways. Their clash of personalities and undeniable attraction led to a reluctant marriage under the Wolf Code. Despite this, they resisted fully embracing their bond. Just as their feelings began to grow, painful secrets from their pasts came to light. Discovering a deep-seated hatred rooted in their intertwined histories, they learned that Magnus was the son of Lara's father's mistress, and Lara was the daughter of Magnus' mother's lover. Faced with this truth, they chose to sever their mate bond, risking their lives as per werewolf tradition, where one must perish.

On our wedding day, Lily, the apple of Patrick Luther's eye, tried to kill herself. I grabbed onto his sleeve. "Please don't go." He pried my fingers off, one by one. "Don't make a scene. Lily needs me right now." I watched him walk away, laughing until my eyes turned red. If you don't love me, then I'm done with you. “Patrick, this time I'm the one leaving you."

Harry Pate fails in his plan to secure a fortune from my family. He tries to drug me, hand me over to his friends, and even film it to control me. Luckily, a kind netizen overhears him plotting with his mistress at a restaurant. The netizen posts a missing person alert online. "Please share widely. Looking for Freya White. Her boyfriend is trying to drug and assault her." I see the post and quietly pour the drug into the pot they are about to drink from.

I had been married to Derek for six years, and we had a three-year-old son. He was poor, earning only $2,000 a month, but I had no complaints; I took care of everything at home for him. After getting dinner on the table for the whole family, I finally had a minute to check my phone. A video popped up on my feed: a twenty-two-year-old girl from a rural area whose hands, roughened by years of hard labor, looked like they belonged to a sixty-two-year-old woman. I looked down at my own hands, just as worn and scarred, and stared at them blankly before tapping into the comments. I expected people to feel bad for her. However, to my surprise, the comments section was flooded with a single sentiment: "Why would anyone marry a penniless loser?" One of the top-liked comments came from a couple; in their photo, they were pictured holding hands—fingers tightly intertwined—with the girl sporting a massive diamond ring. The accompanying caption read: "A man who truly loves you would never bear to let you suffer." I felt a pang of envy. Given the choice, who wouldn't want a glamorous life? As I was about to close the app, I accidentally tapped on the couple's photo, enlarging it. In the background, previously too blurry to make out, was a face I recognized. It looked exactly like my husband, Derek Sterling. I froze, and almost against my will, I tapped into the account's profile. Post after post of lavish photos of them together flooded my screen. And then I saw him clearly. The scar above his brow, the one he got when a shelf fell on him while protecting me, was still plainly visible. It was my husband. It was Derek.