Boyfriend And Girlfriend Holding Hands

At a class reunion, I ended up getting together with my high school crush. However, one evening, as I was scrolling through a social media platform, I was suddenly bombarded with mentions tagging me in a shocking post. The content left me seeing stars. "My girlfriend has a car, a house, a great degree, and she's stunning. Yet, somehow, she's into me! Haha!" "To be honest, she's too exceptional, and it's kind of killing my sense of masculinity. Once I manage to get my hands on her assets, I'll have her give me two kids and then live life on my own terms. She won’t be able to control me then." "You guys can stay jealous. Not like you know her anyway, so what can you even do to me?"

My Ex’s Pregnant Sister When Grace, a 22-year-old woman abandoned by her boyfriend and rejected by her parents after an unexpected pregnancy, runs away to seek refuge with her older sister Anita, she believes she has reached the end of the road. But Anita has her own life falling into place—she’s about to move in with her new boyfriend Jackson and has already given up her apartment. With nowhere else to turn, Anita reluctantly asks the one man she never thought she would depend on again—her ex-boyfriend, Johnny. Johnny agrees to help, offering Grace a temporary place to stay. What begins as an act of kindness slowly becomes something deeper. Living under the same roof, Johnny and Grace form an unexpected bond as he helps her navigate pregnancy, heartbreak, and the fear of facing the world alone. But their growing closeness awakens buried emotions and unresolved history—especially for Anita. As jealousy, guilt, and unspoken feelings collide, the lines between loyalty, love, and betrayal blur. Grace must decide whether to follow her heart or protect the fragile relationships holding her life together. Meanwhile, Johnny must confront the past he shares with Anita and the future he might want with her sister. In a story filled with emotional twists, family tension, and forbidden love, one question remains: Can love born from chaos survive the truth?

On New Year's Eve, I returned home. At the welcome party, my boyfriend, Grayson Caldwell, suddenly appeared, holding a bouquet of red roses and a diamond ring, dropping to one knee. "Although this proposal comes a full three years late, our love will never be late," he said. "Alexa, marry me!" Friends cheered from the sidelines, all expecting me to nod through tears and say yes. But they had forgotten that three years ago, on New Year's Eve, he had promised to propose. That night, I dressed to the nines and waited until dawn—but he never showed up. Instead, there was only a cold phone call. "Tanya is sick. I'm busy taking care of her. You'll have to wait a little longer for the proposal." And so, on New Year's Day, I left the country alone, bound by a family-arranged marriage. I had already married someone else three years ago.

Every anniversary, Mark had some twisted surprise for me. Our tenth? He strutted into the ballroom holding hands with an escort wearing straight up lingerie. "Jenna, she's cold. Hand over your dress." Then, like that wasn't sick enough: "And the lingerie. She likes your vibe." I clutched my collar, trying to keep it together. He didn't care—just yanked it open. "Cut the act. Your dad sold you to me, remember? That slutty look you used to give me—I still see it." Everyone stared, waiting for me to break. So I did the one thing I could. "I want a divorce." Again. Mark just laughed and chucked a stack of photos on the table—me, covered in marks, curled in bed, a total mess. "You say that every year. And every year, you're back in my bed. Think your mom keeps that hospital spot if these get out?"

"Just who do you think you are to put your hands on someone else's woman!" his voice was unrecognisable and I knew there was no stopping him. **** Heartbroken by his sudden engagement, Rebecca has come to accept the harsh truth that Oliver will never be anything more than her fake boyfriend. She opts to leave bur his sudden possessiveness and obsession surfaces as he refuses to let her go. "Don't touch me," I whisper, holding his shocked gaze. "I don't want to be with you anymore-" "The answer is no," he replies coldly, his tone dripping with impatience. I have a feeling I should hold my tongue but I can't stand being here any longer, "I wasn't asking. I'm done-" "Then pay me back," he says to my shock. "Pay me back every penny I spent on your mother."

I gave up a vast fortune to be with my boyfriend Terrence. In our poorest days, we didn't even have a single grain of rice at home. Terrence went out to fight in underground rings, never surrendering once even when he was beaten black and blue. With his blood and sweat, he paved the path to our future brick by brick. In the present, his name was uttered with an undeniable tone of respect, while I was known far and wide as his missus, the woman he treasured above anyone or anything. One year, when I left the country because of a family emergency, I learned that he even started seeing a therapist due to separation anxiety. Everyone said that Terrence loved me more than life itself, and I had believed it too, wholeheartedly. Until I stood on our balcony, watching him tightly embracing another woman in the villa next door. "Even though Tanya is back, the very thought of losing you makes me lose control… I can't live without you, Mia… "If any other men ever appear by your side, I might just end up killing them…" His voice was a low rumble, tinged with a sort of unconscious madness. "B-But what about your wife? Didn't you say that she means more to you than your own life?" "Well, we just have to keep this hidden better, don't we? I want to always be with you…" My hand trembled, and I accidentally cut my hand with the fruit knife I was holding, but I felt no pain at all. To think that just one year apart was enough to shatter thirty years of love and mutual support… With trembling hands, I picked up my phone and called my mother. "Mom, I'm feeling homesick… Can you get me a new identity and a one-way ticket out of the country?"

Three years ago, my rich boyfriend, Steven Delaney, went into bankruptcy. He decided to break up with me so that he wouldn't drag me down. As I looked at his broken expression, I steeled my heart and ripped the overseas college application I had just received. "I'll stay with you. Together, we can rebuild your legacy." Everyone told me that I was nuts. Still, I decided to move into a damp basement room with Steven. After that, I took on a job out in the streets that allowed me to earn money the fastest, which was promoting beer to the customers. One day, when I'm delivering beer to the customers, one of them calls out to me. "Hey, this lady looks like you!" There are two screens being shown on a livestream, that's being replayed. The left screen shows me crouching at the doorway of the basement while washing shirts for Steven. It's so cold that my fingers have gone completely red. The right screen shows him all dressed up in a smart-looking suit. He has an arm wrapped around a beautiful and well-dressed woman, and they're both sitting in a luxury car. Steven smiles at the camera and says, "This is my third year lying to my girlfriend about my financial situation. Till now, she still hasn't realized the truth! She really is a pathetic idiot!" The live comments keep popping up on the side. "You really know how to make things interesting, Mr. Delaney! I can't believe you're capable of coming up with the whole 'pretending to be broke in order to test your girlfriend's humanity' act!" "What exactly is that lady aiming for, honestly? She's just someone who sells beer! Does she seriously think she's in a romance drama?" "Oh, this is hilarious! That penniless girlfriend of his is even washing underwear for him! The truth is, the underwear belongs to the Delaney family's household staff!"

“At least my books can distract me from remembering what you did to me last night.” “A distraction?” His lips ghosted over my ear. “Then I'll have to be more memorable. I'll take you on every surface of this library until the only story you know…is ours.” When Mirabelle witnesses mafia don,Theo Gaspard commit a murder, her life is his to command. To save her family, she must play the part of the ruthless billionaire's beloved girlfriend, living in his luxury mansion and warming his bed. Theo is a man of ice and control, but the defiant, soft-hearted server ignites a fire in him he can't extinguish. Their forced proximity is a battlefield of whispered threats and stolen, scorching touches which he tells himself it's all to protect his empire. As a deadly betrayal closes in from the heart of his own organization, their dangerous lie becomes the only truth holding them together. But when a secret from the past surfaces, Mirabelle discovers the man who holds her captive is hiding the one truth that could shatter them both.

On the day of the wedding, Galen Shaw forces me to crack walnuts with my bare hands for his so-called female buddy. My expression goes cold, and I refuse outright. "My hands are for holding a scalpel, not cracking walnuts for her!" He only chuckles and orders someone to hold me down. Then, he glues the walnuts to my palms himself. One by one, he slams them against the ground. "You cheated while studying medicine. Now that you've married me, forget about ever being a doctor again!" I grit my teeth through the pain. My fingers are aching, but I try to explain. "I went abroad to study medicine for you!" His so-called female buddy sneers in a shrill voice. "All that talk about the Shaw family's hereditary disease is nonsense! Galen has been perfectly healthy for over 20 years. Don't tell me you just want another excuse to cozy up with your precious senior?" The moment those words leave her lips, the faint thought of having someone bandage my hand disappears. A shadow crosses Galen's face. "Looks like you haven't learned your lesson!" He throws me into the basement and locks me there for three days. By the time I crawl out, my hands are completely ruined. Later, when Galen's hereditary disease finally surfaces, the doctor tries to comfort him. "This disease may be terminal, but there is still a way. Dr. Robinson has just returned from overseas. She's the only one in the world who can perform this surgery. "I hear that she's your wife."

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.