Caption Newspaper

[Sungguh kasihan ibu ini ditinggal merantau suaminya tapi tidak pernah dikirimi nafkah hingga mengharuskannya bekerja sebagai pemulung padahal suaminya bekerja di pertambangan. Naasnya lagi, saat ini anaknya sedang mengidap penyakit TB. Bagi yang mau membantu Ibu ini dan anaknya bisa kirimkan donasinya ke nomor rekening yang tertera di caption] Bayu terkejut saat melihat berita viral di sebuah akun di sosial media. Pasalnya yang sedang diberitakan itu adalah istri dan juga anaknya yang sedang memulung. Bagaimana bisa keduanya kekurangan hingga harus menjadi pemulung? Sedangkan setiap bulannya Bayu selalu mentransfer uang yang cukup banyak untuk istri dan anaknya ke rekening kakaknya yang bernama Sita.  Apa yang akan dilakukan Bayu?  Apakah Bayu bisa mengungkap apa yang dirahasiakan kakak dan juga ibunya selama dia bekerja? Apakah pernikahan Bayu bisa diselamatkan? 

"What is it?" "It's called Dissociative Amnesia Disorder." "Well, what's that?" "It's a memory disorder. It explains your memory loss of that night. But not about how you could forgot your father's name." *** I hate it. I hate that I couldn't remember the name of the person who took care of me. The person who raised me, the person who loved me. I spent years trying to find out. I've read every book, every mission report, every newspaper in the country. But, nada. Nothing of that incident ever reported. It's like it never happened. But I know it did. I remembered it, every single moment. Until everything turns dark. But little did I know, the answer was staring at me the whole time. *** Katrina Clyde, a brilliant girl, the best agent from the Spy Division of La Reu Inc. She's surrounded by friends that support her, whether in the organization or outside the organization. When got called into an important mission, she then found out that this mission could lead her to her missing memory. One that she thought she wanted to retrieve.

Mary Redferne is a fiery young woman. Trouble literally follows her, mainly because of her mouth. She didn’t know how to put any breaks on them. She was everything a man was scared of: ambitious, had a mind of her own and didn’t refrain from telling people that their ideas are garbage. In the 1960s, this ‘attitude’ did not play well with the society but nobody dared to say anything as she was the only child of the mayor, Clement Redferne. Joseph Lachlan was a soft spoken gentleman who unlike other men in the country has remained very humble after getting remarkable fame and fortune at a very young age. He was known for his kindness, compassion and candor. But more importantly his striking resemblance to a Greek god. He was the one person who did not judge Mary or even think that she was ever out of line even though her name was always in the newspaper with the headline ‘The Wild Girl’. Mary, who is habituated with fighting and arguing with everyone who judges her, how will she react to a man who absolutely has no opinion about her ‘wild and erratic’ side? A man who just accepts her for the way she is?

Alpha Lycan Mate — A Paranormal Romance by Morgan King She thought she was just a girl trying to survive. He knew she was the storm destined to destroy or save them all. Seventeen-year-old Aria lives a quiet life with her grandmother, unaware of the bloodline burning beneath her skin. On the verge of adulthood, she applies for a weekend job at a sleek, glass-walled newspaper tower—owned by the dangerously alluring billionaire widower, Damon Wolfe. Damon never works Saturdays. Never hires strangers. But the moment he smells her… everything changes. As Aria approaches her 18th birthday, her body begins to betray her—visions, heat, instincts she can’t control. She starts hearing a voice that isn’t hers… but feels like it always has been. When secrets unravel and shadows from a forgotten war come hunting, Aria must confront what she truly is: not just a wolf… but an Alpha born of fire, moonlight, and war. And Damon? He’s not just her employer. He might be the only one strong enough to protect her—or the one destined to break her. But some enemies don’t bleed. And some bonds… burn.

Tiga bulan sebelum menikah, pacarku memposting di instagram sebuah foto dirinya bersama adik angkatku. Foto itu menunjukkan surat pernikahan mereka dan potret kehamilan adik angkatku. Caption yang dituliskan, [Resmi menyambut kehidupan kecil kami.] Adik angkatku meninggalkan komentar dengan emoji malu-malu. Ibuku memberi tanda suka pada unggahan itu dan menambahkan komentar, [Aku akan menjaga anak itu setelah lahir. Kalian berdua tenang saja menikmati hidup berdua.] Aku tidak bisa menahan diri dan hanya meninggalkan tanda tanya sebagai komentar. Detik berikutnya, pacarku langsung memarahiku habis-habisan. [Dia hanya meminjam status pernikahan denganku selama satu tahun. Setelah anak lahir, aku akan kembali padamu.] [Jangan pelit begitu. Ibu juga sudah bilang, kamu baru boleh menikahiku setelah melahirkan anak laki-laki. Jadi, kita adakan pernikahan dulu, baru urus akta nikah nanti..] Aku hanya menjawab dengan datar, "Oh." Setelah itu, aku menghapus semua unggahan di media sosial yang berkaitan dengannya. Sebagai gantinya, aku memposting hal baru, [Butuh calon pengantin pria. Siapa yang mau menikah denganku?]

It's Thanksgiving, and I'm waiting for Zeke Jones to come home after cooking up an extravagant meal. When Zeke returns, he doesn't even glance at the meal I've prepared for him. Instead, he proceeds to pack a bag. "I can't celebrate Thanksgiving with you this year," he says. I take another bite of my turkey and say nothing. At the stroke of midnight, Zeke's first love posts a new photo on her social media page. In the photo, she's lying on Zeke's back with a bright smile on her face. The moon outside the window is bright. "Happy to spend Thanksgiving with good company," her caption reads. Instead of hysterically questioning Zeke about the post, I just tap on the "like" button without reacting in any way. Zeke calls me. His voice sounds panicked as he tries to explain himself. "Please don't misinterpret the post. I will definitely spend Thanksgiving with you next year…" I freeze for a few moments, letting out a small laugh. I don't offer him a reply. Next time, he says? Oh, Zeke, I'm afraid there won't be a next time.

After I was falsely accused of being a third wheel by a fake heiress, she hired a group of people to corner me in the delivery room under the pretense of giving me an intervention. "How dare you, a shameless mistress, hope to secure a place with your child!" "Today, I'm going to make sure that b*stard in your belly is gone for good. Let's see if you dare get into my man's bed again." The group blocked the delivery room door, their faces twisted with malice as they refused to let the doctors deliver my baby. I begged them to let me go, but they only laughed cruelly and forced me down in front of a camera while I struggled through labor. They forcefully pulled the baby out of my belly and killed him right in front of me. I clung to my child's lifeless body, sobbing hysterically, while they posted my miserable state online with the caption, 'This is what happens to mistresses.' Later, I exposed her fake heiress status and revealed the dirty secrets of her and those people who were allegedly giving me an intervention online. Relentlessly attacked by netizens until she had nowhere left to turn, she ended up begging me for forgiveness. I pointed to the edge of the rooftop and said, "Jump, and I'll forgive you."

For eight long years, Bryan Millan and I were married, but you’d never have known it by looking at his life. He never once acknowledged our relationship in public. Not a single post, not a single mention of me on his social media. Then came our anniversary. The day that was supposed to be about us. Instead, Bryan made an announcement on his Instagram account—just not the one I expected. There he was, hand in hand with his assistant, her draped in a wedding dress. The caption read: [When you're in love, you want the whole world to know.] The comments flooded in. [Bryan finally got married!] [Congrats! Wishing you a lifetime of happiness together!] In that moment, I could no longer lie to myself. Bryan wasn't reserved. He just never loved me. So, I decided to let go. But he wasn't ready for that. He clung to me, desperate now. But I pried his hands off and laughed—a real, genuine laugh, the kind that comes from somewhere deep inside when you realize you're finally free. Then, I looked him straight in the eye and said the words I'd been holding in, "Don't beg me to come back. Because now that I don't love you, I've never felt better."

In my tenth year of marriage, my old childhood friend, Joshua Sears, posts a photo on social media. Both Joshua and my wife, Sabrina Lawson, are hugging his son, Andy Sears, and my daughter, Tiana Jenkins, in it. The four of them look very close to each other. The caption accompanying the post says, "Blessed to have the perfect son and daughter." I leave a comment below the post, saying, "Looking good together." A few seconds later, the post is deleted. The next morning, Sabrina rushes home and yells at me. "Ashton Jenkins! Joshua was finally feeling better for once. Why did you have to trigger him again?" Tiana shoves me hard and snaps in an accusatory tone, "It's all your fault that Andy's crying now!" I take out a copy of the divorce agreement and slam it down before them. "Yes, it's all my fault. That's why I'm stepping out of the picture now. Then, the four of you can form the wholesome family you've always wanted."

When I went to buy a new house, all I found was crumpled newspaper where my savings should've been. I almost called the cops—until I found out Tony Jarrett, my own husband, had blown seven years of my hard-earned cash on a shiny new motorcycle. For Pauline Schmidt. His ex. I asked why. He just shrugged. "She's a single mom. Life's tough. This way, she won't have to walk so much." I wanted to scream, but I swallowed it down. Made him at least get an IOU from her. While I was busy sourcing stuff for the factory, a flood warning hit our town. And Tony? Out buying toy cars with Pauline and her kid. Our son was home alone, trying to stay above water. I was back. Like life hit rewind and dropped me into that exact day. The day he gave her the motorcycle. I saw them—laughing, tight, like their own little picture-perfect family. But I didn't cry this time. Didn't beg. Just turned and walked off.