Chicken Noodle Soup Song Lyrics

Dating is fun but not when the media defined you as a pyscho clingy dater. Artemesia Vena is known as a singer song writer who puts the story of her past love in every song. She didn't just create a name in the industry, she build a reputation. Braxton Rozx Bentley, a billionaire bachelor that has no experience in dating needs a guide to win the woman she likes. He hired her to be his flirting expert. Artemesia have a long list of ex lovers while Braxton doesn't. Will their indifferences pull them closer or push them away from each other? What happen's when Braxton Rozx flirts with Artemesia, his flirting expert?

For once, Gianna wants things to go smoothly in her life. After breaking the engagement with her cheater fiancé three years ago, she feels like she wasted enough time. Her bestfriend urges her to find a lover, especially that Marson seems desperate to fill in the role. Now that she finally allows herself to try love the second time, fate hands her down a card she can’t help but gamble. Caden Vitaro is famous band member of a pop-rock band. Now that the band decided to end their journey, a final tribute is on the way and Caden is given a challenge to compose one more song for the fans. The only problem is, he lost himself in guilt to what happened three years ago, and so is his passion. Coming back to his hometown in South Ganuala, he meets his first love, the first girl who put melody and rhythm in his life, his first fan girl. Maybe she will heal him and be his muse. Or maybe, the lost love between them will break him even more.

The night my sister Eva stone(also a famous actress) asked me to go to a concert with her I wish something or someone would have told me that my life would never be the same why you ask cause that's the day I met Hayden Thorne. Hayden Thorne is one of the biggest names in the music industry he's 27year old and still at the peak of his career.Eva had always had a crush on him for as long as I could remember.She knew every song and album by name that he had released since he was 14 year old. She's his fan I wasn't.She's perfect for him in every way then why am I the one with Hayden not her.

Will your soul let me in? That is the question Adam had for Eve before even speaking a word to her. He had been searching for her his whole life. Being a successful CEO at the young age of 26 was a major achievement for him, but not nearly as important as finding his Eve. He had so much love in his heart for a woman that he didn’t even know existed. He’d fantasized about her, and swept the globe literally in search of her. She wanted what they said was hers. The full fantasy, she wanted her Adam. She wanted the love that played the song in her heart. She wanted everything they said to be true. She wanted to fall in love with the man of her dreams, her soulmate, and have the perfect happily ever after...but did it exist? Was it possible? Go on this amazing, sexy, romantic journey as two worlds collide in a way that will leave you swaying to their song. The romantic dance these two have will keep you wanting more. Adam and Eve is unlike anything you have ever imagined. I also have a surprise for you, it is interactive! If you want to get the full effect of each steamy, romantic, or touching moment get into their playlist included below. It will put you in the midst of their love story.

By six, Amelia had whipped up a six-dish dinner with soup—Chad Felton's favorites, of course. By seven, she'd prepped his bath, complete with rose petals and candles. By eight, his slippers were perfectly lined up by the door. At nine, Chad finally strolled in. Amelia stepped up, taking his suit jacket. "Eat first or bathe?" she asked, setting the slippers in front of him and hanging the jacket. "Bathe," he muttered, eyes glued to his phone.

A week after I gave birth via C-section, Mark Whitman invited his friends over to celebrate the birth of our son. The crowd was boisterous—more than a dozen people. Not one of them bothered to remove their dirty shoes. The wooden floor was soon covered in muddy footprints. Mark came into the room and, without a hint of concern, ordered me out of bed. "Everyone's waiting outside. Don't just hide here and rest—you're embarrassing me in front of our guests." I had no choice but to push through the pain, forcing my body to prepare a huge meal for the large crowd, all on my own. When I carried the final bowl of steaming soup to the table, Lily Hoyte—whether intentionally or not—jabbed her hand against the wound on my abdomen. My hand trembled from the sudden pain, and the bowl slipped slightly, spilling the hot soup onto Lily's shoes. Mark's face darkened instantly. "What the heck did you do, Cammy? Lily rushed here right after her plane landed from overseas to see our son, and this is how you treat her?" The crowd quickly chimed in. "Come on, Cammy, no need to be so petty." "Mark and Lily grew up together. If there was really something between them, do you think you'd even be here now?" "Do you even know how much those shoes cost? They're limited edition—easily over ten thousand dollars. And you just ruined them." Lily stood up awkwardly, her eyes misting with tears. "If Cammy doesn't like me," she said softly, "then I'll leave. I don't want to be a bother." But Mark grabbed her hand in an exaggerated display of protection, his voice harsh as he turned to me. "Wipe Lily's shoes clean. Right now." His partiality for Lily made something sharp twist in my chest. My lips quivered as I fought back tears. "The wound on my stomach hasn't healed yet. I can't bend over." At that, his expression grew colder. "Don't use childbirth as an excuse. If you can't bend over, then kneel and wipe them. And if you won't, get out of my house!"

He has made it crystal clear that I’m not to call him ‘boss’ except on certain occasions, like right now, when his dominating gaze carries a hint of playfulness. I can’t help but smile every time he gets like this, all lovey-dovey, but when he whispers in my ears asking me to go on an adventure with him, it is like an invitation to a forbidden feast and the thought sends a shiver down my spine which unlike you would think, is almost painful. Maybe this is because I have been on an adventure with him for as far as I want to recollect. My memories, if you peeked inside, would be overflowing with every moment with him, each one a brushstroke painted with his boldness and my, well, let’s call it a touch of recklessness. I now wear a souvenir, a mark etched onto my soul. It’s like a silent agreement, a reminder that our fates are tangled, intertwined like climbing vines. He’s the puppet master, my very own Mr. Strings, and every twist and turn of his whims gets woven into the fabric of my being. Maybe you find that hard to believe, like something out of a fairytale. But trust me, my darling, as I unravel the threads of our adventure, one by one, you’ll understand. With each turn and twist, you’ll find yourself hooked, a willing captive in the captivating narrative of our lives, possibly harnessed in the labyrinth of our love, where danger dances with delight, and fate is etched in the footprints of a love like no other. So buckle up, dear reader, for this isn’t a mere tale, it’s a thrill ride, a love song made of equal parts fear and freedom.

I knock on the door, heart pounding like it always does when I’m about to see him. “Come in,” Justin’s voice calls—cool, smooth, and frustratingly calm. I take a deep breath and walk in, holding the folder tightly. “Here’s the report you requested, sir.” He doesn’t even glance at me. Just keeps typing, his expression unreadable. “You’re late,” he says without missing a beat. I clench my jaw. “There was a delay at the printer—” “No excuses, Joanna. Just do better next time.” Ouch. Professional and cold. As always. I nod, ignoring the sting in my chest. “Yes, sir.” I turn to leave, gripping the doorknob—just one more second and I’ll be out of this weird tension-filled office— “Wait.” I freeze. I turn around slowly. “Yes?” Justin stands now, walking toward me. In his hand, a familiar brown paper bag. He holds it out. “You didn’t have lunch.” I blink. “I’m fine.” “You skipped breakfast too. Eat.” I hesitate. “What is it?” “Chicken pesto. No onions.” My breath catches. He still remembers? “Why are you doing this?” I ask quietly. He shrugs, not meeting my eyes. “I just… remember things.” My fingers brush his as I take the bag. Warmth. Stupid warmth that shouldn’t still feel this familiar. Then, he looks at me—really looks at me. “You shouldn’t skip meals… wife.” Silence. My chest tightens. “Don’t call me that.” But my voice is too soft to sound convincing. I walk out before I say something I’ll regret. His words echo in my mind like a dangerous lullaby. Cold one second. Kilig the next. God… he’s still him. And that’s exactly the problem.

Delphine isn’t sure how she ended up in this position- a song bird with clipped wings and a gilded cage. Where did everything go wrong? The answer is the man who commands her to sing.

My usually cold and distant wife shared a bowl of soup with her newly joined colleague. Surprisingly, I felt calm, even as I brought up divorce. She sneered at me, "Don't be ridiculous. I'm exhausted. He's just a colleague of mine." "Even if we're married, you have no right to interfere with what I do with my colleagues." "If that's what you think, then I can't help you." When I actually put the divorce papers in front of her, she flew into a rage. "Ryan, do you think the Wagners were still what they used to be? You're nothing without me!"