Christmas Profile Pictures Novelas e Histórias

When I was seven, my father brought home a beautiful lady who gave me a mango. That day, my mother watched me happily eating the mango while she signed her name on the divorce papers. After that, she jumped off the roof of our building. From then on, mangoes became the nightmare of my life. So on my wedding day, I told my husband, Alan Holt, "If you ever want a divorce, just give me a mango." Alan pulled me into his arms, quiet. From then on, mangoes became off-limits for him, too. On Christmas Eve of our fifth year of marriage, Alan's childhood sweetheart, Larissa Fennimore, left a mango on his desk at the office. The very same day, Alan announced he was cutting ties with Larissa and fired her from the company. That day, I truly believed he was the man I was meant to be with. Half a year later, I flew back from overseas, having just closed a partnership deal worth about 200 million dollars. At the celebration dinner, Alan handed me a drink. After I had finished half the glass, his so-called childhood sweetheart, the woman who had been kicked out of the company, stood behind me with a big grin and asked, "Does the mango juice taste good?" I stared at Alan in disbelief, and he was trying hard not to laugh. "Don't be mad. Larissa insisted I played a little joke on you. I didn't actually give you a mango; I just gave you a bottle of mango juice. But I think she's right. The fact that you don't eat mangoes is a real problem. You were really enjoying that juice just now." My face went cold. I lifted my hand and threw the rest of the mango juice in his face, then turned around and walked away. Some things are never a joke. I wouldn't kid around with mangoes or divorce.

When I'm done putting my daughter, Alani Carter, to sleep, I suddenly come across a social media post. "My husband, who's always been uncaring about the household matters, suddenly decides to be more engaging and helpful recently. What's the reason behind his change in behavior?" The comments in that comment section cut to the chase immediately. "Oh, there's no doubt about the answer. Either he's having an affair behind your back, or he wants your money." As soon as I leave a like on the answer, my husband, Michael Carter, who has never cared about Alani before, suddenly asks me, "What sort of homework does Alani have today?" That's when I notice the parents' group chat on my phone, where Demi Miller's mother, Yvette Miller, has tagged Michael there abruptly. "Mr. Carter, what's tonight's homework?" He has responded to her immediately, "Give me a moment. I'll send you the list later." I glance at the time. It's already 10:30 pm. We've been married for so many years, and yet Michael has never responded to any of my WhatsApp messages on time before. I secretly tap on Yvette's profile picture, only to find out that her social media feed is filled with coincidental meetings with Michael. Apparently, she has met him coincidentally at the amusement park, at a bookstore, and even at a family restaurant the three of us have frequented. When I pick Alani up from the kindergarten in the next evening, I happen to overhear Yvette telling another parent, "Alani's dad sure has a heart of gold! He even helps me take care of Demi! "Whenever I ask him questions regarding Demi, he's able to answer me on the spot. Parents who care this much about children are a rarity these days!" I continue the topic smilingly, "Isn't that right? Michael has never attended a single parent-child meeting related to his own daughter, and yet he's quite skilled in helping others raise their children." After that, I find myself a secluded corner, where I dial my lawyer's phone number immediately. "Have you prepared the divorce contract? I want him to leave this marriage without a single cent to his name!"

To train myself for the role ahead, I hid the truth — that I was the only daughter of an Alpha King. In my first year at the Dark Moon Pack, I fell for Leo, the Alpha's youngest son, the moment I laid eyes on him. Three years of love. The cold, brutal man spoiled me rotten. Yet he never once agreed to a marking ceremony with me. I later found out why — his pack didn't think I was good enough. After all, the Dark Moon Pack was the most powerful in the Northern Territories, and in their eyes, I was just a nameless rogue from some lesser pack. With the whispers about the gap between our ranks growing louder, I decided to tell him the truth about my bloodline. But then Leo started disappearing. Day after day. After his ninety-ninth night away, I saw a photo on his childhood sweetheart's Ins Story — a Christmas tree decked out in sex toys. The caption read: "Leo promised me — on the night of our marking ceremony, we're going to try every single one." Before I could even process it, my phone buzzed again. A DM. From the same woman. "Do you have any idea how much Leo needs me? Every year on your birthday, every anniversary — he waits until you fall asleep, then comes to spend the night with me." "A high-born wolf like me is the only one worthy of being his mate. You're nothing but the third wheel between an Alpha and his Luna." I stared at the words on the screen, my thumb frozen in midair. Should I be furious? Should I fall apart? Nothing. I felt nothing. Just a hollow space where my heart used to be. Fine. This tainted love, this man — I was done with all of it. I closed my eyes and reached out through the mind-link to my father, the Alpha King. "Dad, I agree to come home and take the throne."

Deck the halls with daddy issues and scream "yes, Santa" until the neighbors complain. She sold herself to save her mother. He bought her to settle a score. Neither expected twelve days of captivity to feel like coming home. Ten years ago, Evangeline Rose fled Willow Creek and the cruel boy who made her life hell. Now she’s back with a new name, a new body, and one desperate choice: enter the town’s secret Christmas auction where wealthy men bid on willing women. When the hammer falls at five hundred thousand dollars, Eva expects a stranger. Instead, she gets Grayson Holt—her former tormentor, now a devastatingly dangerous man in a half-open Santa jacket who just bought twelve uninterrupted nights with the virgin he once swore no one would ever want. She should be terrified. He's the reason she hid in bathroom stalls and cried herself to sleep. But the first time he kisses her, his hands shake. The first time she fights back, he groans her name like a prayer. And somewhere between the firelight and the snow and the silk ribbons around her wrists, they both realize the ugly truth: He didn't buy her to break her. He bought her because he's been broken without her. The boy who spray-painted "fat ugly bitch" on her locker is the same man who falls to his knees in the snow on the last morning and begs her not to leave. The girl who swore she'd never forgive him is the same woman who has to choose: walk away free, or stay with the monster who finally admitted he's been in love with her since the day he made her cry. Eva spent a decade learning to hate Grayson Holt. Turns out she's been loving him the whole damn time.

“You have no idea,” he said quietly, “how difficult it is hearing you say things like that while you’re upstairs and I can’t touch you.” My stomach tightened hard. “Then come upstairs.” The words escaped before I could think them through. Silence crashed into the room. “You do know what you’re asking for, don’t you?” “Yes.” A long pause. Then: “Open your door.” At twenty-two, Ivy Hart has mastered the art of pretending. By day, she’s the polished daughter of a wealthy country club businessman—the successful young woman her father proudly brags about to his golf buddies. By night, she becomes someone else entirely. Hidden behind soft lighting, silk robes, and a fake name, Ivy earns millions online giving strangers the intimacy she’s never found in real life. But one man is different. Masked. Older. Addictive. Known only as BigDaddyP, he doesn’t just watch her—he sees her. Every insecurity. Every lie. Every lonely part she hides behind the camera. Their late-night sessions become her obsession. Until the night he whispers her real name during a private stream. Terrified, Ivy logs off moments before her father calls with unexpected news: his famous actor godson, Patrick Laurent, will be staying at their mansion for Christmas while her parents leave town. Cold blue eyes. Dangerous restraint. A voice she would recognize anywhere. Because the man she’s been craving in the dark is now sleeping down the hall from her. Snowed in together in a mansion, the line between performance and reality begins to blur. And the more Patrick strips away her carefully built masks, the more Ivy realizes the real danger isn’t that her father’s closest friend knows exactly who she is, It’s that she wants him in every forbidden way possible.

Christmas Eve was meant to be the culmination of seven years of long-distance longing—the day Lorenzo finally slid an engagement ring onto my finger. Instead, a sudden emergency surgery chained me to the operating table. The patient wasn't just suffering from a premature delivery and catastrophic hemorrhaging; she was riddled with infections, the biological fallout of a reckless, hedonistic lifestyle. The girl on the table spat out orders with a venomous entitlement that made my blood run cold. "My husband is the head of the Corleone family. He’s second to none, and this entire city bows to him. If you can’t save my baby, you’re all dead." My mind went blank. There was only one head of the Corleone family: Lorenzo. "You’ve got the wrong man," I said, my voice wavering despite my frown. "The news said he’s already engaged to a woman from a rival family for a strategic alliance." The girl looked at me as if I’d just told a pathetic joke. She surveyed me with a mocking sneer. "Oh, he’s mentioned that woman. He said she’s like a cold corpse—that even touching her makes him sick to his stomach. She doesn't provide him a fraction of the pleasure I do." She smirked. "He heard something happened to the baby. He’s en route from Sicily right now with his personal detail." She flicked her phone screen open. There it was: a photo of her and Lorenzo, locked in a suffocatingly intimate embrace. I froze. A second later, a notification from Lorenzo vibrated against my palm. “Darlin’, something urgent came up tonight. I’m skipping the engagement dinner. I’ll make it up to you later.” Since they were so utterly in love, I decided to give them exactly what they wanted. I dialed a number that had been silent for three years—the number of the true mastermind of the underworld, Don Sebastian. "Does your proposal from three years ago still stand?"

On the week before Valentine's Day, I want to buy my husband, Grayson Strickland, who works as a university professor, an electronic toothbrush as a gift. That's when I see a review with over ten thousand likes on a particular online store. "I recommend buying from this store! This store's electronic toothbrush is super durable! I've never had to charge this toothbrush for half a year!" Three days later, an additional response is made to that comment. "I'm sorry for misleading everyone. It turns out that my husband has been charging this toothbrush this whole time. It's my fault for being such a doofus! I even pestered him for a long time before I finally found out that he has done a lot for me! "I never have to add toilet rolls to the bathroom. All I thought is that the same toilet roll is extremely thick. The membership that I have on the TV app is often paid for and extended, and yet I thought there was a bug in the app software somehow. Some time ago, the peeling dry skin on my lips miraculously healed. It turns out he was the one who kept applying lip balm onto my lip at night. "He's a university professor, you see. In the past, I often blamed him for not knowing what being romantic was like. But now, I finally realize that those who love you will have a way of showing you how it's done." The rest of the comment section is filled with wailing complaints. They all complain that Valentine's Day isn't even here, and yet they are already sick of the lovey-dovey atmosphere. Amid the Internet users' constant requests, the poster finally uploads the handsome side profile of her husband. Feeling rather envious, I tap on the photo, only for my smile to freeze on my face. That photo actually features Grayson! As I stare at my mother-in-law, who has been paralyzed in bed for the past six years, I recall the fact that Grayson lives on the university campus all around the year. That's when uneasiness begins plaguing me. As expected, when I bring my marriage certificate to the County Clerk’s office and ask about it, the clerk points at the stamp and says, "Your marriage certificate is fake. Mr. Grayson Strickland's spouse is another woman named Callista Whitman." My fingers go slack subconsciously, causing the fake marriage certificate to fall to the floor. A chuckle of despair escapes my lips. Everyone knows that Callista is Grayson's student. She's his most prized student as well as the person who knows him the best. As for me… I'm just a free caretaker whom he has "hired".

The most popular girl in school, Mona Culver, could only apply for the city's worst community college because of her poor school results. My childhood friend, James Holden, got our entire class to fill out application forms for community college too. It was his attempt to negotiate with Northrind University's admissions department to make an exception for Mona to study there. The top thirty students in the city shared pictures of their amended application forms to community college. Back in my past lifetime, I tried my best to talk them out of it. The application submission deadline was the next day, and no amendments would be allowed after that. If they wasted their time threatening Northrind by applying to community college, and the deadline passed, nothing could be done to change the results, even if they were the city's top thirty students. Their dreams of attending an Ivy League school would be quashed after ten years of hard work, and no one knew what their future would hold after that. James got angry and berated me, "You're just afraid Mona will be better than you once we start classes at Northrind. Stop pretending like you're doing this for us!" The rest of my classmates were also upset with me, and they turned their fury on me. "Our high school results mean nothing. With our abilities, we would still be able to attend Northrind next year if we repeat the year. You should just mind your own business!" We had been classmates for three years, and I could not let them compromise their futures. I informed our principal and their parents of their plans, and their application forms were amended. I managed to stop them from threatening Northrind's admissions department. All of them were accepted by Northrind in the end, and they became elites in their respective industries with bright futures ahead. Mona ended up getting pregnant with a thug's child while in community college, and she suffered from both physical and mental issues. She fell into deep depression and even attempted suicide several times. James broke down when he learned the truth, and he blamed it all on me. He worked with our classmates to fabricate evidence that I committed plagiarism, and they poisoned my drink. Even my parents were burned to death by a patient from a mental hospital. When I was reborn into this lifetime, I saw James change our group chat's name into 'Fight for True Love! Let's Go to Northrind Together!' I left the group without hesitation and blocked everyone's numbers.

On Christmas Eve, my father got the man I had secretly loved for ten years drunk and sent him to my bed. When I woke up the next morning, Roy pulled away from my attempt at a good-morning kiss. His voice was cold and distant as he agreed to marry me. After the wedding, Roy wasted no time submitting a transfer request. He took an overseas post and left. He did not return for five years. I gave birth to our daughter, Eve, alone and waited for him to come back home. When I heard that Roy had finally applied to return to a domestic position, I was overjoyed. I spent days preparing, imagining our first reunion as husband and wife. But even when the clock struck midnight, he still hadn't come home. Our daughter, ever so thoughtful, placed her most treasured possession—a photograph of Roy—into my hands. "Don't cry, Mommy," she said softly. "Look, Daddy's right here." I tried to convince myself that his absence was due to a delayed flight. But later that night, while watching the news, I saw him. He was on a crowded city street, holding a young girl in his arms. Beside him stood a woman, her smile soft and warm. Facing the camera, Roy said, "Being with them is my greatest wish." At that moment, something inside me broke. I wrote up the divorce papers, packed our things, and planned to take Eve to change her identity. I didn't want him anymore. The day before we left, a man I had never met came to see me. He was Roy's father. "You could call me Dad," he said, a faint smile playing on his lips. "But I'd rather you call me Ryan." I told him everything about the past five years—how I had waited, how I had hoped. When I finished, he laughed softly, an unusual warmth in his voice. "If it was just business," he said, "perhaps your father should have tied a bow around me and sent me to your bed instead. But I hold my liquor well—if I ever end up wrapped in a bow, you can be sure it's by choice."

On Christmas Eve, my uncle, Garrett Wayne, takes a sip from the fancy whiskey I bought. Then, he points at me while grinning. "Well well well… I've been watching you since you were a kid, Flint. You were a bed-wetter when you were a little boy, and now that you're all grown up, you stay cooped in your parents' shop while running that social media account of yours. You don't have any skills at all. "My Ronnie, on the other hand, has an amazing job that will continue paying him and keeping him around no matter how hard times get. Small businesses like your family's will definitely crumble as soon as the tiniest change happens in the global economy!" All of my relatives roar in laughter at Garrett's quip. My cousin, Ronnie Wayne, pretends to be playing on his phone, though his grin has already become ear-splitting. Mom and Dad can only laugh along as well even though deep down they are very uneasy and anxious. I just gaze at Garrett coldly. In six hours, the blizzard apocalypse will descend onto this world. At the same time, a zombie outbreak will occur across the globe. In my previous life, Garrett, who had looked down on my family and me, didn't hesitate to push us into the upcoming zombie horde just to take over my parents' grocery store. In this lifetime, I swear that I will never let him off the hook! I'm about to pick up a plate of food and smash it onto Garrett's head when I hear a mechanical voice chiming in my head. "Ding! You have been bound with the Rage System! You may talk back and retort to others to your liking in exchange for supplies. The more arrogant you sound, the better supplies you'll receive!" As I look at Garrett's insufferable face, I let out a chuckle. "Oh yeah, I'm not skilled at all. But I suddenly remember this funny little thing. Uncle Garrett, you claimed that you had gone on a business trip to Brimstone eight years ago. But the truth is, you got arrested by the vice squad, right? "Does Aunt Cassia know about this?"