Chord Christina Perri A Thousand Years

For three years, we held a wedding in name only—my husband, Kit Rutgers, a pilot, canceled our marriage registration eighteen times. The first time, his female trainee, Katy Ferguson, had a test flight. I waited outside the county clerk’s office the whole day. The second time, he got a call from her mid-drive, made a sharp U-turn, and left me standing on the side of the road. After that, every time we planned to make it official, some crisis with Katy mysteriously arose. Eventually, I chose to walk away. But the moment I boarded a plane to Solara, he lost his mind—and chased me there.

Anne, eight years old, is caught in a hunter's trap in a dangerous jungle after an unexpected incident. Anne also met a strange mute boy at this time. He saves Anne from the pit after she assists him in stopping the bleeding and healing the wound. The two children spent the days that followed living together in a cave deep in the forest. But Anne missed home, her parents and sister, so she left. Ten years later, the two re-confront each other under new identities. He appeared and reached out to save Anne at her lowest point. When love blossomed, Anne realized the boy that year had become the werewolf king. But someone said he wanted to attack humans, so he took advantage of Anne, whom he didn't love. Anne believes, so she chooses to side with her fellow man and abandon him again. This time, he was seriously injured and nearly died. Anne is deeply sorry. Will everything, however, be completed on time?

On the day of my wedding anniversary, I was cleaning my house when I found a picture album. As it turned out, my husband had been religiously taking pictures with the girl of his dreams every year on this precise date. He had been doing it since he was forty years old and he was now sixty years old. His hair had progressed from a jet black to a faded white and yet, he kept up the tradition. There was a written message in his handwriting at the back of the picture that read, “Eternal Love.” Since he doesn't love me, I will no longer bother washing his clothes and cooking for him. I will no longer care for his children and grandchildren. I may have foolishly wasted half of my life, but it was not too late to make a change.

Sasha Barlow receives a call from Aidan Gallagher when she leaves the hospital after getting an abortion. He says, "Get ready. Mr. Conley is coming tonight, so bring five bottles of whiskey and three bottles of red wine." Sasha subconsciously clenches her hand around her phone. "Can I skip tonight?" Aidan pauses. "I know you're angry about yesterday, Sasha. Natalie hit you yesterday, but I reprimanded you instead of helping. "You need to remember that she's my girlfriend, though. She comes from a good family, and her parents have always treated her like a princess. She's bound to be a little willful and spoiled. You're older than her, so cut her some slack."

I jump off the seventh floor on my wedding day. Why? Because everyone has abandoned me to pick up a fake heiress from the airport, my fiancé included. I expect to see them riddled with heartbreak and regret after my death. However, my father merely shakes his head stoically and looks at my body while saying I was too willful. My mother bites her lip and sighs in relief. My fiancé, Magnus Gilmore, shields the fake heiress. He's afraid she'll see the horrible state of my body. The fake heiress is scared to tears at this, and everyone crowds around her to console her. No one cares whether I'm still breathing while lying in a pool of blood. I'm stunned when I see this, but I soon laugh self-deprecatingly. When I open my eyes again, I've been brought back seven years in the past. It's the day I've just stepped foot at home.

The day I found out I wasn't really an Adelson, Sharon—their real daughter—stormed in and stabbed me—over and over. Just like that, my shot at being a mom? Gone. Chuck Benetton, my fiancé, lost it. My parents swore they'd disown her. To "comfort" me, Chuck proposed on the spot. My parents handed me the severance letter—Sharon officially disowned—and told me to just focus on healing. Later, they said Sharon had run off and gotten trafficked in Nyamara, some hotspot for scams and lost souls. They said it served her right. And yeah... I believed them. Six years into the lie, I saw her—very much alive, baby bump and all, curled up against my husband like she owned him. "If I hadn't snapped back then, Yasmine never would've married you, " she said. "Thank God you and Mom and Dad backed me. Otherwise, that imposter would've landed me in jail. "She probably never guessed I've been right here, carrying your baby. Once I give birth, just fake an adoption. She can nanny our kid forever. "Thanks for everything, Chuck." She smiled like he was her hero. And he blushed. "Don't thank me. Marrying her was the only way to protect you. I'd do it all again." So yeah. The guy I thought loved me? He was always lying. My "parents"? They only cared about Sharon. If that's love, I want nothing to do with it.

One accidentally crossed, and crossed the United States. Well, there's nothing wrong with crossing America. But who is that guy flying around with a hammer?! Hey ~ Who's there to control the thunderstorm! I didn't know this weather was bad for business...

I'd been married to my lawyer husband for eight years. In all that time, he never once acknowledged me as his wife in public. He wouldn't even let our daughter call him "Dad." Again and again, he missed out on her childhood because of his childhood sweetheart. Even when she hurt our daughter, he still forgave her. I was worn out and empty. So I decided to leave. I took our daughter and vanished from his world. But he refused the divorce. He started searching for us like a madman, turning the whole world upside down. Only this time, neither my daughter nor I will be looking back.

In front of the orphanage gates, Rebecca Schwartz, the impoverished student I had been sponsoring, stood glaring at me with a face full of disdain. "If you don't let Freddie come along, I'm not going to your house either," she declared, her tone sharp and unyielding. In the past, blinded by love and hopelessly infatuated, I would have caved to her demands, humbling myself just to keep the peace. But things were different now—I had been reborn. Staring at this despicable pair, who had once caused my tragic demise, a tidal wave of fury surged within me. Yet, it settled into nothing more than a faint, icy smile on my lips. "Then stay here," I said, my voice cold and steady. "Rot in this place alongside your precious Freddie. After all, trash like you belong in the garbage heap."

Seven years ago, I ignored my girlfriend's heart-wrenching pleas and ruthlessly severed our relationship. Now, after seven long years, she had risen to the top—and she was back, ready for her wedding. She didn't come home for mere celebration, though. She came for revenge. She obliterated the company my father had spent his entire life building and did not stop until she shattered his leg, forcing him to endure unimaginable pain. It was all so I'd be forced to go to her wedding and beg for forgiveness. But that wasn't enough. She wanted more. She hissed, brandishing a blade, "If Matthew's not here in ten minutes, I'll slice off a finger for every minute he's late." My autistic brother's fingers, the only way he could create art, became a bargaining chip in her sadistic game. Dad's anguished cries filled the air as he pleaded for mercy, but she was not done. She wanted to tear my family apart piece by piece. My mom, fragile and trapped in the haze of Alzheimer's, was next. Her mind, already slipping, crumbled under the relentless torment. She cracked, completely lost to the madness. With tears streaming down his face, Dad said, "My son died the day you left for abroad."