Bora Reply 1988

Jenny posted a picture of me and her brother, who had an intellectual disability. The caption? "Finally, a happy ending!" The comments were all the same: "Is this your sister-in-law? She’s gorgeous!" I simply replied with a question mark, but Jenny ignored me and responded to someone else instead. "She's kinda my sister-in-law, yes!" It didn't take long for Steven to call me, his tone full of anger. "It was just a little edit, do you really have to blow things out of proportion?" Half an hour later, Jenny posted another photo of her sitting in Steven's luxury car, and even tagged me in it. "We may not be related by blood, but this big brother of mine has always been my rock!" Steven commented. "I'll always be here." I knew he was trying to get a rise on me on purpose to appease Jenny, but I didn't grace them with a reply this time. All I did was like the post and file for divorce.

On the day Zachary Lake stands at the pinnacle of global technology, accepting his award, I'm lying in a hospital bed, abandoned by doctors because I can't afford treatment for kidney failure. On TV, the host asks him to call the person he's most grateful for. Without hesitation, he dials my number. "Shannon, do you regret leaving me?" he asks. I clutch the astronomical medical bill in my hand, the paper crumpling beneath my fingers. Forcing a light tone, I reply, "Can you take me on as your kept woman now that you're a big deal?" On screen, his face remains expressionless as he hangs up without a word. Then, his cold voice pierces through the broadcast. "Now, I have nothing to feel grateful for." But what he doesn't know is that when he was on the brink of death years ago, I was the one who gave him my kidney.

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.

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?"

“I am the father of the child”, Azar spoke up, “but she will not live, she must die” Ignis looked at him with anger, “You! You are to take after me as the oldest yet you are the one causing me pain. That girl will not die! She is carrying the child of a royal Draego. No one will touch her and she must come here”. “Ignis, you have to understand that, that human will be his weakness and he needs strength”, the empress replied. Edgan and Zayn turned to Azar, they were trying to think of any human girl they saw him with. Ignis turned to his wife to reply to her, “If you read that letter, you’d see that her father is about to sell her off through a marriage alliance to the Slavcan prince, do you want Azar’s child to grow with the Slavcans?” *********************** Kaliyah had caused quite an uproar among the Draegos as she was a human carrying the child of a royal dragon. This child was her saving grace from the hands of the brutal Slavcans and a call to her destiny as the bride of the royal dragon. As the warrior princess that she was, she fought for peace in her time and helped grow her kingdom with the help of the dragons.

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.

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.

“You know the consequence of your decision?” Edwin’s tone was as indifferent as usual. He never cared for her, Janet knew this. It didn’t affect her before because she always knew her place, but it was hurting then. Three months. They were living together, sharing a life; she didn’t know it was only a moment of passion for Edwin, and it was unacceptable. She hardened her demeanor and gulped her sadness inside to face Edwin. “I know,” Her reply was short but determined. “You are being stubborn,” Edwin replied. This time, she was getting on his nerves. “Mr. Wilson, I can accept any of your demands. But I would never be a second woman in someone’s relationship.” Janet didn't want to compromise anymore. One rainy night, they met each other and fate connected them. Janet didn’t know that night not only did she lose her virtue, but she would lose her heart, too. But being someone’s mistress wasn’t something she would ever accept.

"Mrs. Gardner, are you sure you want to hire our team to stage a fire and fake your death in ten days?" Camellia Shaw paused for a moment. Just as she was about to reply to the message, a video call suddenly popped up. "Camellia, look! Andres is spending a fortune on you again!" The video was of an auction in progress. At the front, a man of striking elegance and charm was decisively bidding on several antique collectibles worth hundreds of millions. The crowd was already abuzz with excitement. "Mr. Gardner is so good to his wife! He bought all these antiques just to make her smile!" "$400 million is nothing! I heard Mr. Gardner even built her a private estate and named it Eterna Haven. Just the name alone is proof of how much he loves her." A wealthy businessman nearby sneered. "It's all for show. Who knows what he's really like behind closed doors?" That comment immediately sparked a wave of backlash. Many argued back, talking about how devoted Andres Gardner was to his wife. As she listened to their murmurs, Camellia forced a bitter smile.

On my birthday, the dining table was loaded with all my favorites. My mom had been cooking and baking the entire afternoon, insisting everything be perfect for when Mike got home from work so we could celebrate together. But then, he called and said his first love had been drugged at a bar, and he had to go help her. I stopped him and begged him not to go. Mike snapped at me. "Jesus, Em, don’t pull this jealous wife crap. She’s alone, defenseless, and unconscious—I can't let some random dude take advantage of her!" My mother heard those words and was so enraged that she had a heart attack. She died on the spot. Just like that, my mom died on my birthday. I called Mike, asking him to attend my mom's funeral. But before he could reply, I saw Cathy Miller's latest Instagram post, captioned: [Mikey… after all these years, it was always you.] Mike had liked it. My thumb moved before my brain caught up, typing out the only words that mattered: [A homewrecker and a lying bastard. Hope you rot together.]