Novel & Cerita Cake Lyrics Melanie Martinez

Since it's already the end of the year, the music app I use produces a report on the songs I've listened to in 2025. The keyword of my report is "resonance". Over the year, I don't spend much time listening to the songs on this app. My girlfriend, Sienna Fletcher, is the one who's been using my account this whole time. There's a row beneath the keyword that's written in a tiny font. "You had listened to this song with someone at 4:00 am on December 1st. It turns out that love can go beyond a night's sleep." My breath gets hitched in my throat. December 1st is my birthday. But that night, I had gone to bed at an early hour. Meanwhile, Sienna had left hurriedly after cutting my birthday cake with me with the excuse that she needed to pull an overnight shift at the company. For some reason, I tap onto the unfamiliar-looking profile that has been interacting frequently with my account with a trembling finger. Their keyword of the year is "favor". My heart skips a beat at the sight. Then, I tap on the details. "Over the year, you've listened to songs with this user 688 times in the middle of the night. Every time you do, it's a secretive conversation meant for your souls." The next thing I know, I receive a message from Sienna. "Babe, I need to work overtime tonight again. You don't have to wait up for me. Just go to bed early." At the same time, a new post is uploaded on the unfamiliar profile. It features a photo of two hands that are intertwined together. "I love working overtime with her the most. I want to listen to songs with her forever."

On our wedding anniversary, I canceled all my meetings and made a reservation at a restaurant. That evening, my wife, the renowned investigative journalist Amaya Shaw, called me. “Efim, I’m sorry! I just received a tip from a source. It’s urgent. “It involves inside information about a well-known company. I have to go verify it immediately!” But the next day, I saw that Javor Furey, the junior she had brought along, had posted a collage on his social media. The central photo showed Amaya wearing a childish birthday hat. Her head was pressed against Javor’s, as they made a wish together in front of a cake covered in candles. This was the caption. [Thanks, my dear Ms. Shaw! Even in the midst of her busy schedule chasing big stories, she remembered to give me this surprise birthday!] [Chasing big stories.] I stared at those three words. Then, I glanced at the limited-edition bag on our dining table. It was the one she had been raving about for half a year. It was the anniversary gift I had prepared for her. I felt absurd. I commented just two words under that post. [How touching.] Her call came in almost the second I hit send. She sounded furious. “Efim, do you have to be so sarcastic? “It’s just an anniversary. How old are you? Why are you still celebrating such childish anniversaries?” From our first year of marriage to the present, her “tip-offs from informants” and “special circumstances” always took precedence over our promises. This time, she could not even be bothered to come up with a plausible excuse. I did not say anything. I hung up and blocked her number. This marriage was over.

"I want you to be our personal stripper," declared Killian, his voice deep and cold, slicing through the air and quickening her heartbeat. The intensity in their gaze made her knees weaken, a sensation hard to ignore. Nervously, she gulped, managing to stammer, "S-Sir..." Atlas, positioned behind her, added, "We'll pay you thrice what you earn in this club, sweetheart." His warm breath teased the back of her neck, sending shivers down her spine. She instinctively closed her thighs, aware of their eyes lingering on her nearly naked form. The offer was undeniably tempting, almost too good to be true. Killian Knight and Atlas De Luca, both successful bachelors in the city, were her employers in which she worked as their assistant, and the unexpected sight of them in the strip club where she worked as a dancer was nothing short of a shock. What added to the surprise was the outrageous proposal they were making! But, being the sole provider of her family, Claire find it hard to decline their offer. For her, money is everything, especially because of their family condition. Being with a sick mother and a brother battling with leukemia, Claire shouldered everything, and she in desperate to make a living. And so, Claire found herself agreeing. Be their stripper? That’s a piece of cake for her. Or so she thought. Fate takes an unexpected turn for Claire when she finds herself falling for the men she promised not to get attached to. However, avoiding two drop-dead hot bachelors proves to be a challenge, especially when fate seems to favor their presence. Becoming the personal stripper for the affluent and influential Killian Knight and Atlas De Luca, Claire finds herself entangled in a web of emotions she never anticipated...

On Christmas Day, eight months pregnant, I struggled through the kitchen,cooking for my husband and his secretary. When I finally sat down, hoping to taste a piece of turkey I didn’t even get during Thanksgiving, my husband shoved me aside like I was nothing. He slid the turkey in front of his secretary instead. “Alison,you’re already so fat. Stop eating. Let Daisy have it—she deserves to enjoy your cooking.” Daisy，chewing on the turkey I had painstakingly prepared, had the audacity to mock me under the guise of playing truth or dare with my child. “So, what do you think your mom looks like?” “Mommy looks like a fat pig on a farm!” “Her stretch marks? They’re like disgusting worms crawling all over her. Even Santa would run for his life!” Their laughter erupted like daggers piercing me from all sides. Humiliation and rage burned through me as my dignity was stripped bare. I demanded an apology from that vile woman, but my husband—my husband!—turned his cold, cruel face toward me and said, “Get out of here.” Pregnant, exhausted, and humiliated, I stood there in shock. Then I snapped. I grabbed the Christmas cake and turkey and threw them in the trash. I walked out without looking back. This wretched family doesn’t deserve a second of my effort or a single ounce of my love!

SUBMITTING TO MY STEP BROTHERS "Nicole meet your stepbrothers and .......", I didn't hear the next words when my eyes fall on the two men already seated. I found myself momentarily frozen at what I was seeing. Was i dreaming or I wasn't? What the hell is wrong with my step father’s sons. They are all f**king.... **** "Do you want it?", Before I could reply him, my gaze accidentally moved down then I saw it.....his bulge was huge even though it was flaccid. Was I turning him on? Just like I did to his brother, Alexander. My breath hitched as he stepped closer to me, his chest coming into view, closer to my face, "I think its too late to eat the cake," He rasped as I looked up. His hand extended above me but his forest green eyes held mine, they became darker as if time had stood still. Right now, I needed a saviour. I noticed that Alexander has ocean blue eyes then here is his brother with ...... my goodness! Speechless, I moved my gaze to his Adam's apple, which bobbed as he swallowed. "If the banana is all you wanted. Then have a good night step sis" He moved away, smirking and then he turned around. My eyes landed on his ass. I snapped out of quickly it then shook my head. Holy hell! I was still holding the banana in my hand in disbelief. Was that a dream?

As my murderer's claws tear into my abdomen inch by inch, my father and brother are seated in our family's banquet hall. They're celebrating Carly's 18th birthday and coming-of-age. "You'll always be my little girl." "Happy birthday, Carly." They light 18 pink candles for her. On top of the exquisite red velvet cake is a wolf figurine that they carved for her, and there are well wishes and laughter all around. Meanwhile, I'm curled up in a sewer filled with liquid silver as I bleed to death. My phone has been crushed, and I can't get out. I can only cry for help. A few days later, my father and brother show up together at the autopsy room. My brother stands by the operating table with a scalpel. He slices open the body and sews it back up like it's nothing. My father just covers his nose as he shoots a disgusted glance at my body. He urges my brother to hurry up with the autopsy report. "The victim is a young female wolf presumed to be of pure lineage. Before her death, she was subjected to prolonged captivity and torture. Her throat is nearly severed, her cervical spine is dislocated, and her chest cavity has collapsed. She was also injected with liquid silver before death." Hearing the report, my father looks so calm that it's just like a case study of no consequence. Neither of them can recognize that the body belongs to me—their daughter and sister!

A very deep loss for the Syailendra family. Never imagined before, the death of her only brother was right on the birthday of her brother. When all eyes were fixed on Michael who was cutting his birthday cake, suddenly a gunshot boomed at the scene of the ongoing event, everyone panicked seeing the Michael who was limply covered in blood.One year waiting for the uncertain results regarding who killed her brother, Miska Aluna Syailendra is determined to find out for himself who killed her brother. Even the police have closed the case of her brother's death without knowing who is behind the case of her brother's death.Looking for evidence of whether her brother had any enemies during this time, Miska looked at her brother's phone call history hoping she would get proof. In the midst of searching for the perpetrator of her brother's shooting, Miska was kidnapped by the hired person who shot her brother. Trying to find help, she finally managed to retrieve one of the cellphones of the person who kidnapped him. Miska tried to contact her family but not a single call was answered, so she calling the police station to save her from the kidnappers. In the middle of the rescue process, Miska felt an unnatural feeling when she saw the figure of the police forcefully fighting the kidnappers. Miska tried to get rid of her feelings for the policeman who saved her who she knew was named Randy Pramono, finally she tried to explain to Randy so that she could help her reveal her brother's death.

Hailey thought marrying Rome Martinez would be the adventure of a lifetime—and she was right, just not in the way she imagined. As a kindergarten teacher who thrives on structure and routine, Hailey never expected to fall for someone like Rome: mysterious, spontaneous, and utterly unpredictable. Their whirlwind romance swept her off her feet, and saying "I do" felt like diving into uncharted waters—thrilling, terrifying, and full of possibility. But marriage without a map is more complicated than Hailey anticipated. Rome refuses to be tied down by rules or expectations, believing that true love needs no boundaries. What started as exhilarating freedom soon leaves Hailey adrift, craving the stability and normalcy she never knew she needed. As the lines between adventure and chaos blur, she begins to wonder: Can a marriage survive when only one person sets the course? Without boundaries to guide them, Hailey and Rome's relationship teeters on the edge. Will their love be strong enough to weather storms of jealousy, misunderstanding, and unmet needs? Or will their vastly different visions of marriage pull them apart? When one partner's desires eclipse the other's, can intimacy—physical and emotional—truly flourish? In this compelling and heart-wrenching story, discover what happens when love collides with reality, and whether a marriage built on passion alone can find its way to solid ground. Some journeys change you forever. This is one you won't want to miss.

I was a child who was born in a vocational school's toilet. To my mom, I was a stain in her life that she was given birth to after having her cherry popped by a delinquent when she was still young. I knew that Mom had been trying to kill me. Unfortunately, she hadn't succeeded so far. The first time she tried to get rid of me was when she decided to give birth to me in the toilet. It was a cold, winter month, yet she didn't give me anything warm to wear. The second time she attempted murder was when she got into grad school, which was based in the north. No one was around to take care of me, so she turned on the gas while holding me in her arms and clutching her train ticket. The third and last time happened when Mom was about to marry the man she loved. On the night before her wedding, she had tears streaming down her cheeks as she told me, "You're nothing but a burden. You ruined my life! "Do you know that I can only forget about all the pain and suffering you caused me after you die? Only then can I start a brand new chapter in my life!" I wiped Mom's tears off her face with my tiny hand. So, her wish was for me to die. On my birthday, my fever hit 104 degrees Fahrenheit. That was when I finally received the first slice of birthday cake in my entire life. I didn't have the heart to eat it, so I made my wish solemnly. "I hope that I will die soon." I heard that birthday wishes often came true. That way, Mom would be very happy.

When I was seven, my constant vomiting got so bad that my mother took me to court and accused me of being born dangerous. If the charge stuck, I would be stripped of my family ties and sent straight to prison. Everyone said my mother was overreacting. "He's just a kid. Kids get sick. As his mother, you should be more understanding." But the moment the evidence was shown, the room went dead quiet. My mother had drunk herself into a stomach bleed just to land a contract, and the second she got home, I threw up all over it. The deal was voided, and she lost her job on the spot. On my sister, Ophelia Sowle's, birthday, I threw up all over her cake right in front of all her classmates. After that, she was shunned by everyone at school. She spiraled into depression and even slashed her wrists. It didn't matter where I was, at the dinner table or under the covers. I could start vomiting at any moment. My mother and Ophelia had to clean me up more than 30 times a day. It wore them down to the breaking point. What infuriated them the most was that every time I finished throwing up, I would look at them and laugh, as if I was mocking them. The judge brought the gavel down and declared me guilty of being born bad. Ophelia's eyes turned red as she cried, saying she couldn't bear to lose me. I didn't cry or fight it. I accepted the verdict. But I requested that the judge watch my memories first. The judge looked stunned. "Memory extraction means drilling into your brain. The pain is unbearable. Are you sure?" I nodded without hesitation. But Ophelia suddenly panicked. "I don't agree!"