Caption Baper

Our third wedding anniversary was coming up, but my wife, a programmer at a major tech company, suddenly claimed she had to work overtime to meet deadlines. She said she couldn't go on the trip we'd planned. That very afternoon, however, her intern posted a video on social media. My wife—the same woman who normally wouldn't even open a door for fear of chipping her manicure—was holding a screwdriver, repairing an old flip phone. The caption read: [Having a programmer wife is the best. Even when Grandma's phone breaks, we don't need to pay for repairs.] I chuckled, liked the post, and commented: [Right up her alley.] Within minutes, the company group chat exploded. There were over ninety-nine unread messages speculating on when I'd finally snap. Not long after, my wife called. Her voice was ice-cold. "What was that comment supposed to mean? How is Shawn supposed to face anyone at work now? "His grandma's phone broke, so I fixed it. What's the problem? Your parents have always spoiled you. You can't possibly understand real hardship. "Delete the comment. I'll make it up to you over the New Year; we can take that trip then." The New Year? I'd already waited through two other major public holidays. I'd even taken special leave for this trip, and she still bailed. Now she was dangling empty promises again? I hung up on her. My leave ended around the same time as our divorce cooling-off period.

It's the tenth anniversary of my bonding with my warrior mate, Owen Chase, and also our son Leo's birthday. A month earlier, I spent $8000 arranging a trip to the Blood Moon Forest. I plan to take my mate and pup to the Moon Goddess' sacred grounds to receive her blessings. This is supposed to be a happy anniversary celebration for our complete werewolf family. I've prepared everything and booked tickets for the Twilight Coach. But on the night before our departure, Owen and Leo suddenly block our mind-link. "Dad and I are having dinner with Ms. Emma on the 24th floor of Moonlight Restaurant. We've cancelled the tickets—we're not going." The call ends there. They promptly block my number as well. I rush back to our pack overnight, only to find that the security system no longer recognizes me. That night, every household locks its doors and activates protective barriers against the toxic mist of the Silver Mines in the nearby Moonveil Valley, while I could only huddle on the stone steps outside our house, inhaling the silver-laden fog all night. The poisonous substances flood my systems. I am sent to the hospital, burning with fever as my wolf grows weaker with every labored breath. Meanwhile, my family is busy touring Central City with Emma Skinner, spending the money I had worked so hard to earn. Owen posts a photo on his social media. In the photo, Emma, my mate Owen, and my child Leo stand hand-in-hand in front of the wishing fountain in Central City, all smiling brightly. The caption reads: "A perfect trip, a perfect family of three." It is only then that I finally understand—this family exists in name only. It's time for me to rebuild my life.

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.

Wanita mana yang tidak senang jika dirinya terlihat cantik, menarik dan disukai banyak orang terutaman lawan jenis. Tapi bagaimana jika cantik, menarik dan disukai banyak orang itu terjadi secara mendadak. Tanpa melakukan perawatan khusus, tanpa operasi plastik dan tanpa melakukan ritual mistis sejenisnya. Firda mengalamaninya. Dia bahkan sama sekali tidak tahu dan tidak mengerti mengapa semua orang menganggapnya mendadak sangat cantik, menarik dan menggairahkan bagai bidadari yang terlempar dari khayangan. Namun Yudis, suami Firda yang sejak dulu tidak pernah mencintai istrinya, sama sekali tidak terpengaruh. Firda yang mendadak cantik mendapat banyak ujian dan godaan terutama dari para lelaki yang mulai tergila gila pada dirinya. Tak sedikit yang berbuat nekad hingga mengancam keselamatan jiwa raga Firda. Sebagai seorang wanita, Firda berusaha menghindari semua godaan dan ancaman yang datang silih berganti dari para lelaki hidung belang itu. Dia tetap setia pada Yudis yang ternyata masih belum bisa move on dari mantan istri pertamanya. Bagaimana Firda bisa bertahan dari segala godaan para lelaki yang sangat menggirurkan? Bagaimana pula dia bisa menghindar dari segala ancaman dan serangan yang datang bertubi-tubi? Benarkah ada lelaki misterius yang selalu melindunginya? Lalu siapa sebenarnya lelaki misterius DI BELAKANG SUAMI itu? Ini bukan cerita horor, tapi kisah romantis yang bisa membuat siapapun baper, berdebar dan penasaran berkepanjangan. Sesekali akan juga melewati lembah yang bisa membuat siapapun mendadak panas dingin. Jangan lupa berikan like, vote dan komentar dalam setiap chapter yang sudah dibacanya.

My daughter, Annabelle Turner, was diagnosed with hereditary heart disease. I spent the past five years searching for a compatible heart donor for her. Now, I finally found one. Right before Annabelle is sent into the surgery room, my husband and renowned cardiologist, Gabriel Turner, tearfully makes me a promise. "Don't worry, sweetheart. I'll make sure Annabelle gets a shot at life again." Yet halfway through the surgery, Gabriel suddenly leaves in a hurry without giving any explanation. I stumble into the surgery room and see Annabelle lying on the operating table, covered in blood. Her chest is cut wide open, laid bare for all to see. Tyler Rotwell, Gabriel's assistant, stammers out, "Dr. Turner said… that Anna can still hold on a little longer, but Ms. Byron's son can't. "Dr. Turner took the heart that was meant for Anna and left…" I immediately break down and repeatedly call Gabriel's number, but Gabriel never answers a single call, not even when Anna's blood has completely dried… While settling my daughter's post-mortem affairs, I happen to see a newly posted update on Gabriel's childhood friend, Suzanne Byron's social media. "Turns out it was just a misdiagnosis," was what the caption read. "In that case, let's give this useless little thing to our good boy Oscar as a treat!" The video attached depicts Suzanne's dog Oscar tearing into the heart that was supposed to be donated to Annabelle. As I turn to look at Annabelle's cold body, the last shred of love I have for Gabriel starts crumbling apart. By the time Gabriel finally remembers Annabelle, whom he left on the operating table, only an empty bedroom and an urn containing her ashes would greet him…

Anibersaryo ng kasal namin nang mag-post ang high school sweetheart ng asawa ko ng sonogram picture sa kanyang social media, na may caption na public thank-you sa asawa ko: [Salamat sa lalaking nandiyan para sa akin sa loob ng sampung taon, at sa pagbibigay sa akin ng anak.] Umikot ang kwarto, at namuo ang galit sa akin habang mabilis akong nagkomento: [So, proud ka sa pagiging homewrecker?] Halos kaagad, tumawag ang asawa ko, puno ng galit ang boses. "Paano mo nagawa na mag isip ng nakakasuklam na bagay? Ang ginawa ko lang ay tulungan siya sa IVF, natupad ang pangarap niyang maging single mom.” "At oo nga pala, kailangan lang ni Ruby ng isang subok para mabuntis, habang ikaw ay may tatlong round ng walang resulta. Walang kwenta ang katawan mo!" Tatlong araw lang ang nakalipas, sinabi niya sa akin na pupunta siya sa ibang bansa para sa negosyo—hindi pinapansin ang aking mga tawag at mensahe sa buong panahon. Akala ko busy lang siya. Gayunpaman, sa huli ay kasama niya pala si Ruby, dumadalo sa prenatal checkup nito. Makalipas ang kalahating oras, muling nag-post si Ruby, na ipinakita ang isang mesa na puno ng masasarap na pagkain. [Nagsawa ako sa French food, kaya ginawa ni Ash ang lahat ng paborito kong pagkain. The best talaga siya!] Napatitig ako sa pregnancy test sa kamay ko, ang saya na naramdaman ko kanina, ngayon ay tuluyan ng nawala. Matapos ang walong taong pag-ibig at anim na taon ng paglunok ng aking pride para lang manatiling buhay ang kasal, sa wakas ay handa na akong bumitaw.

Richard Montague, a rich heir in Durmask, has just posted a new tweet on Twitter. The accompanying photo features a luxurious winery. The caption reads, "My wife loves this place a lot, so I bought it immediately." I tap on the photo, soon realizing that this is Amie Winery, the same place that I had briefly mentioned to Richard last week. Then, I recall the fact that he has told me that he's prepared a surprise anniversary gift for me in a mysterious tone. So, this winery must be the gift! With a wide smile on my face, I respond to his tweet in the comment section. But three minutes later, Kiara York, a popular celebrity from the same company that I'm in, quickly proclaims her love for Richard on the Internet. "Wow, my husband is so generous! I'm very satisfied with this gift!" All the onlookers and fans begin shipping Kiara and Richard like mad overnight. "What a sweet relationship! As expected of the rich heir in Durmask! Even the way he announces his relationship is very domineering!" The whole turn of events leaves me feeling stunned. Once I realize that Kiara is just trying to ride on the coattails of Richard's popularity, I quickly post a picture of my marriage certificate online. It comes with a caption. "If she's the legitimate wife, then who am I?" But Kiara soon posts a marriage certificate of her own. To my surprise, there's a photo attached to the certificate. Richard's face is shown in the photo. Kiara mocks me, "There's a limit to being a lunatic fangirl, you know! Rick and I are husband and wife by law! You can't just slap a Photoshopped picture here and pretend that he's your husband!" As I stare at both copies of the marriage certificates, which show the courthouse's stamp, I fall in deep contemplation. Then, I look at the place Kiara tagged on her Twitter comment. Finally, I can't resist calling Richard, who's currently overseas. "How dare you engage in bigamy behind my back!"

Throughout our seven-year marriage, my CEO wife, Ruby Irving, goes on yet another business trip on Memorial Day once again, so she can't travel back to my hometown with me. But soon, I saw the photos uploaded by her assistant, Wilbur Stork, on his social media feed that featured her sweeping the grave in his hometown instead. The caption writes, "Mom and Dad must be very satisfied with their daughter-in-law because the gloomy weather has cleared up in an instant." I chortle in amusement for a brief moment before liking the post calmly. Then, I comment, "I respect your relationship and wish you nothing but happiness." But my colleagues all go nuts over the latest bombshell. They are quick to form their chat groups and speculate as to how I'm going to cause my next ruckus in the company this time. Ruby soon calls me while sounding very stern. "I know Wilbur does things very brashly due to his young age, but you shouldn't have caused him trouble in the comment section! What will everyone else in the company think of him? How is Wilbur supposed to continue working in this company? "Moreover, Wilbur doesn't have anyone left in his family. What's wrong with me keeping him company just this once? People with happy families like you don't have empathy for others at all! "I want you to delete your comment and remove your like right now. Once the holidays are over, I'll free up some time in my schedule to go back to your hometown with you." As I listen to Ruby making yet another empty promise to me in such a casual way, I let out a soft chuckle. "It's fine." Once the holidays are over, we'll be able to obtain our divorce certificates.

I'm a mafia princess with crippling social anxiety. My fiancé, Rocco Falcone, is our family's consigliere. He’s the exact opposite of me—extroverted, effortlessly charming, a master at reading and bending people. He's supposed to be my protector. My only link to the outside world. Tonight was the charity gala for my late mother. I was hiding in the darkest corner, a mask covering my face. Rocco was supposed to give the speech. My speech. He never showed. [Emergency. Sorry. Skip the speech, I know you hate the attention. Driver will take you home after the auction. Don't wait up.] Then I saw Livia’s new post. It was a picture of Rocco, draping his suit jacket over her shoulders. He was looking down at her, his eyes full of a tenderness he never showed me. The caption was a gut punch: [No prom date, so my big bro saved the day! Couldn't have done it without him! ] The cold hit me. Bone deep. He ditched a memorial for my dead mother... to take his stepsister to a university dance? The guests began whispering and sneering that I, the famously awkward, socially crippled princess, couldn’t even force a word out. I stared at the whiskey I’d ordered for him. The ice in my glass was melting. Just like the hope in my heart. When I got back to our empty penthouse, my screen was lit up with missed calls and texts from Rocco. The last one came in thirty minutes ago: [Aurelia, trouble at Livia's prom. You know how she gets. Couldn't leave her. Your mother's gala means everything. I'll make it up to you, I promise. Next time will be perfect. Trust me.] I didn't reply. An engagement held together by "next time." Was a promise like that even worth keeping?

During the holidays, Ellie Harper, my wife who's a hospital director, tells me once again that she has taken on a few operations at the last minute, so she can't go home with me to spend time with my parents. But soon, I see her assistant, Jaiden Roth's social media feed. Apparently, Ellie is slaughtering pigs at Jaiden's village in preparation for a holiday party. The caption writes, "Dad says having a daughter-in-law who works as a doctor is amazing. To think that she's this skilled in slaughtering pigs as well!" With a cold smirk curling on my lips, I leave a like on the post. I also comment, "That's her major, after all." My colleagues keep gossiping among themselves in various group chats. They all think I'll definitely get into a huge fight with Ellie this time. Ellie wastes no time in calling me. I can already imagine the impatient look on her face and the way her brows are drawn into a tight frown. "Jaiden's village is hosting a huge party for the holidays, so I'm there to lend them a helping hand! What's with that passive-aggressive tone of yours, huh? "There isn't anyone who can help out in his household, you know! Do you know how badly it'll reflect on his family if no one from his side helps out at all? I was just helping him out as a friend! What's there to kick up a fuss over? "Hurry up and remove the like and the damn comment! Don't make life difficult for Jaiden at the hospital, you hear me? "Once I get back from the village, I'll pick a good date to go back to your hometown with you, okay?" Another empty promise from Ellie, it seems. All she does is making empty promises that she can never keep nowadays. I'm completely stuffed with those promises, and I can't afford to wait for her anymore. Once the holidays are over, I'll receive the divorce certificate marking the end of our seven-year marriage once and for all.