Cooked Banana Pudding

On the fourth day after my son's death, I decided to secretly dissolve my military marriage with my husband. Before that, I had three days to settle everything for my son. On the first day, I tricked my husband into signing the cremation papers. On the second day, I went to the school and collected the textbooks my son would never get to use. On the third day, I cooked a table full of dishes and begged my husband to celebrate our son's last birthday. He agreed, but soon after claimed he had a mission. Instead, he spent the entire night setting off fireworks with his childhood sweetheart. That night, I cooked. Then, I sat alone before my son's photo and ate all my son's favorite foods. The next day, my husband returned, guilt flickering in his eyes as he handed me a brand-new backpack. He said it was a gift for our child's first day of school. But he didn't know—our child would never have a first day of school.

Georgia Brooks, the notorious, troublesome tomboy is the caretaker of Clark Brown, the mysterious, cold man who is an undercover billionaire. Georgia's motive is to uncover him and just make him happy. But what when secrets are revealed and the badass tomboy is close to tears? Join them on this rocky road of adventures which includes their occasional fights and revenge, stolen kisses, trip to a circus, journey to England, landing in jail and much more! Excerpt from a chapter : His lips curled in disdain and just when he was about to unwrap the towel, I quickly turned around showing my back to him. What the fucking hell? What if I saw his thing? "Don't you care? Like honestly, couldn't you just order like your usual self to get the hell out of your bedroom or just . . . turn around for you to change? You could have at least warned me that you were freeing your willy, I would have closed my eyes!" I rambled and felt myself feeling all jittery again. He didn't reply and I could mentally picture him scoffing or rolling his pretty eyes. A part of me which never saw a grown man's buddy down there was curious as to how it looked. Was it really long and monstrous like a huge sausage they describe in erotic scenes? Was it soft like a banana or hard like a radish? Was is it like spring that when you poke it, it would go wagging like a dog's tail? A teeny little peek would do no harm . . .

"Making you my Luna is the one thing I’ll always be ashamed of!" On our third anniversary, my husband, Alpha Keegan, brought his mistress home. He served her the dinner I cooked and asked her to live with us. I was the Luna, but I was just a ghost in his life. Then came the twist that shattered my world: she’s pregnant with his child. When an "accident" threatens her life, his cruelty becomes absolute. He doesn't want me; he just wants my rare, "golden blood". He orders me to become her living blood bank to "ensure Sienna and the baby's health". His final plan? To replace me as Luna. He thought I was just a weak Omega he could discard. He forgot I was once his strongest warrior. "I, Lilian Harrington, reject you as my mate and my husband." I'm done. But he refuses to sign the divorce papers, determined to keep his possession. He thinks I'll have nowhere to go. He's about to find out what happens when the warrior he cast aside is offered a new life by his biggest rival.

Ever since I got into this pack, I was always treated like the slave I am despite being adopted by Luna when I was little. I had no memories of my full life and all I could remember was 10 years ago when I stumbled upon this very pack house, looking pale and hungry as I entered into one of the rooms which happened to be the Luna's chamber. I raided it in search of food to eat and even I finally saw food that was perhaps kept for the Luna to eat, I began to eat the cooked rice with my dirty hands. Yes, I looked very dirty and smelling. It was stealing, though, because I was in a strange place, taking what wasn't mine and ever since then, they took me in but I realised the alpha and his luna were not merciful to the core. I could remember the day Chloe had a bad day at school, the moment she came back, she vented it on me. Splashing water to the floor and accusing me of doing so, saying to her parents I intentionally wanted her to fall and injure herself. This wasn't the first time she tried to do things to get me punished. It was so obvious she devives joy seeing me in pain.

My mom treated me like the dirt beneath her shoes but worshiped my cousin like a queen. Since I could walk, I had scrubbed clothes and cooked meals, but I would still be yelled at or smacked if I messed up. On the contrary, my cousin twirled in princess dresses and played the piano. She was cherished by my aunt and uncle like she was the center of their world. Then came the day everything changed. At my cousin's birthday party, my mom got drunk and spilled the secret—she switched me and my cousin at birth. It turned out that I wasn't her daughter; I was my aunt's daughter. I was over the moon. Finally, I thought I'd found my real family, people who might actually care about me. But when I told my aunt, she just smirked. "You think I didn't know? I don't want you. You'll never be my daughter." Her words hit me like a bucket of ice water. I couldn't understand. Why didn't anyone want me? But that day, I made a vow—I'd never beg for anyone's love again. Years later, when I got into Mayward University—the best educational institution in the country—I threw two DNA test reports on the table in front of them. For the first time, they both looked terrified.

On my wedding day, my husband abandoned me to marry his childhood sweetheart, while I was tortured to death. *** Yeah. That was how my first life ended, pathetic. Wasn't it? I was the perfect fiancée: quiet, obedient, hopelessly in love with a man who never loved me back. For three years, I erased myself to become Adrian Whitmore's first love, Isabella Clarke, the woman he truly loved. I cooked for him, fought for him, and even gave up my father's company for him. And what did I get in return? Betrayal. Humiliation. Death. But heaven gave me another chance. I wake up three years earlier, at our engagement party. The same party where Adrian threw our rings into the pool and I—desperate and pathetic—dove in to retrieve them. Not this time. This time, I throw the rings back in his face. I expose his secrets, reclaim my father's empire, and walk away from the man who never deserved me. But Adrian isn't ready to let go. The obedient woman who worshipped him is gone, replaced by someone he can't control or predict. For the first time in his arrogant life, he wants what he can't have—me. Too bad I'm done being anyone's second choice. With a sweet billionaire offering genuine devotion and a dangerous mafia boss promising absolute protection, I finally have options. Meanwhile, Adrian watches helplessly as I become everything he never let me be. In my first life, I died for love. In my second life, everyone who hurt me will pay.

Today I made dinner on my own just for them. I cooked everything that they like to eat but now it is too late, they are not back yet. It is one week of our marriage and they are this ignorant towards me. My Friends used to say after marriage, the husband does not give you priority at all. I never trusted them but now it seems they used to tell the truth. One week and my both husbands are ignoring me like I do not matter to them that is not what they used to do before I need to talk to them. I am not feeling well about their behaviour towards me. Soon I heard footsteps coming towards the room and I smiled because it was them. But the smile vanished when I saw them. They were not alone with other girls. They both brought other females with them in our bedroom. "What the fuck is this shit?" Dominic growled as he saw the decorations I did In a second everything was destroyed! "Dominic, what are you doing? Why did you do that?" I asked him "Because we do not like this shit. Now get out of this room because we are going to have our sweet time with our companions." Hunter said and I looked at them shocked "Hunter, what are you even saying? Have you gone mad?" I asked him "Enough of your drama bitch! Now get lost from here and sleep in any fucking room you want. Leave our room right now." Dominic said and dragged me towards the door to push me out Lust is exactly what they felt for her Love is exactly what she feel for them They saw her as an object She saw them as her world

When my best friend died, his wife, Mia Lewis, was eight months pregnant. Mia said she didn't want her baby growing up without a father. I owed my best friend my life. He saved me, literally pulled me from death's door. So I stepped up, marrying Mia and raising their son as my own. Mia loved her career, so I quit mine. Traded my job for diapers and school runs. For seven whole years, I cooked, cleaned, folded laundry, and handled the housework. Rain or shine, sickness or health, I was there—every single day. Mia, though? She stayed cold, distant. Her warmth only surfaced in the bedroom—and even then, it was a flicker, never a flame. Just soft sighs and breathy murmurs, like she was playing a role she couldn't wait to finish. Afterward, she would quietly check the condom, as if she couldn't trust me. Then came New Year's Eve. A snap. A tear. A broken condom. Her fury struck like a thunderclap. She locked me out on the balcony, left me standing in the freezing rain, soaked to the bone as the wind howled like a wounded beast. Teeth chattering, I shivered as I watched the door like a dog, waiting to be let in. Then I saw him. Our boy, Ethan Bailey. Six years old. My son, at least in name. He came running with an umbrella in his hand. For a second, my heart leapt. 'Maybe, just maybe…' But he didn't even look at me. Just walked past in silence and handed the umbrella to the nanny heading out. Right then and there, something inside me cracked. I knew it was time to go.

Elena had once believed that silence could mean safety. That a gentle hand and a warm cup of tea placed quietly on her desk every morning could be a form of love. Lucien was never cruel—not in the obvious ways. He remembered how she liked her eggs, noticed when she swapped her perfume, and sent flowers on days he knew she wouldn’t expect them. He raised her like one would raise a pet—softly, without question. And Elena, foolish in the way only the very lonely can be, mistook his quiet affection for devotion. She told herself he was reserved. Mysterious. That love didn’t always wear its heart on its sleeve. But when the old flame returned—the one who spoke his language without needing to try—Elena saw it. The difference. He looked at her like a man who had found his lost religion. And Elena? She had simply been convenient. No tears, no scene. Just papers on the breakfast table, beside the eggs he cooked perfectly. She didn’t accuse or beg. She only asked for freedom. He didn’t sign. He chuckled. A soft, dismissive sound. “A cat raised indoors doesn’t know how to survive on the street, Elena. You’ll come back." But she didn’t. She disappeared, like smoke—except she didn’t vanish, not really. She lived. She wore colour again. Laughed at bad jokes. Let strange men hand her coffee and ask for her number. Lucien? He watched. He watched her become someone without him. And it drove him mad. The night he cornered her outside the gallery, rain in his hair and desperation in his eyes, he looked like a man undone. "Elena," he breathed, "please. Look at me. Just once." She did. Calm as ever, and her love already gone.