Crying In Silence

On my way back from a business trip, I scrolled past a video. A newborn was abandoned by the roadside, crying so hard. As a first time dad, I couldn’t help looking at the baby a little longer. I froze because that baby looked exactly like my son. I had booked the best confinement center in the city for my wife. I had checked them into a VIP suite. I had employed a nanny and a nursing team to look after my wife and my son full-time. I broke out in a cold sweat. My wife didn’t check her phone, so I immediately called the center's manager, Ms. Thompson. She laughed lightly. “Don’t worry, Mr. Smith. Your wife and baby are perfectly fine. They just fell asleep.” The next second, she sent me a photo of my sleeping baby. I stared at the tiny, unfamiliar face. In that instant, the blood in my body turned to ice. I was only gone for four days. So how was my son a different person?

My childhood friends switched their university of choice behind my back. Going to the capital, they enrolled in an elite university with an exchange student. To them, I was just a tool who could not survive without them. That impression lasted until the opening ceremony of an Ivy League university. As the representative of the new students, I stood at the center of the hall. Meanwhile, the youngest PhD advisor in the entire country watched me as he smiled. Beyond the world of the novel I lived in, the readers’ comments went wild. [Shouldn’t she be crying back at home? Why is she in an Ivy League university?] However, the next part was even crazier. That man actually asked me to be his girlfriend yesterday. He was Professor Samuel Grant, the one who had rejected my four childhood friends from studying under him. When my childhood friends left me behind to chase after that manipulative witch, they never expected me to cast aside my role as someone running after them. I ended up holding a full-ride scholarship and reached heights they could never touch.

Maureen Salagunting is a go-getter whose dreams are bigger than her ability and wallet. In fact, she wanted to become a neurosurgeon because she thought it is the hardest profession anyone could have, and she doesn't mind if she would be an old, loveless maiden as long as her bank account is fat and flooding with money. But fate didn't coincide with her plans and she settled with being a private school teacher, then an online live seller when COVID-19 shook the lives of humanity that made her lose her job as well. When she thought everything couldn't get any worse, her shaken life shattered totally when her mother lost the battle against the virus on the day of her 24th birthday, making her wish to cease her existence too. After crying her heart to God, a dashing, mysterious man in a business suit was waiting outside the chapel, telling her to fulfill the marriage agreement she signed eight years ago as a joke. Should she deny it? Or should they begin faking love amidst the pandemic?

" I am pregnant," I said timidly caressing my flat belly hoping that he will be happy hearing the news. After all, he is going to be a father. He said chewing the food," Abort it." He said it so usually like it's the obvious thing to say at this situation. My eyes get watered immediately. I said crying," It's my first baby. I want to give birth to this baby." "I have told my decision already. You can never have my baby," He said finishing his food. " Why can't I have it? please, let me have it, I replied tightening my hold on my belly. He said banging his palm on the table," You will not listen like that." Saying that he dragged me towards the staircase and said creepily almost pushing me on the stairs," Just one push and the result will be same. Mistresses are for pleasure not for bearing children. So, don't forget your place." Warning - There are several mature content. If your are under 18 then don't read.

Nicole Evans never asked to be followed. She never asked for eyes in the dark, for a man like Vane to orbit her life with silence and devotion sharp enough to wound. But obsession doesn’t ask permission. It waits. It watches. It becomes inevitable. What began with missing men and shadows on rooftops soon unraveled into something far more intimate—an assassin who couldn’t let go, and a woman who, piece by piece, stopped trying to make him. As friends vanished and her world narrowed, Nicole found herself drawn toward the very thing she feared most—not out of love, but recognition. In his violence, there was something terrifyingly tender. In his silence, something that listened more closely than anyone else ever had. Theirs is not a love story in any ordinary sense. It’s a descent—a long, slow collapse into dependency, into surrender. A story told in bruises and shared tea, in blood and in stillness. A quiet unraveling that doesn’t end in escape, but in a house by the sea, where memory lingers and echoes never fade. Some stories don’t ask to be understood. Only remembered.

Freya loved the wrong Alpha for eight years. She gave him her body, her loyalty, her soul—and in return, he kissed her with someone else's name. When she finally walked away, she believed she'd found peace—and love—in Silvano, the Alpha who saved her. But years later, on her birthday, silence greeted her again. “Bella,” she whispered to her daughter, “did you forget Mommy’s birthday?” “Not now, Mommy. I'm making a gift for Aunt Aurora. Daddy helped.” The name landed like a wound reopening. Freya once survived being ‘the other woman’. Now, fate flipped the roles—and the silence, late-night absences, and missed calls feel all too familiar. As betrayal knocks again, she must choose: bury herself in heartbreak once more—or rise, not for love, but for herself. When even your mate forgets your worth, how many times must you walk away before you stop coming back? This time—maybe for the last time—she won’t look back.

My father bought twin brothers from the black market to serve as bodyguards for me and my sister. My sister chose the tall, strong older brother, leaving me with the frail, mute younger one. Feeling sorry for him, I kept him close, seeking doctors for his silence and maintaining distance to respect his apparent OCD. I thought trauma had shaped him that way. But when our father's enemies kidnapped us, he abandoned me without hesitation, choosing to die shielding my sister. In his final moments, he spoke for the first time. "You finally see me." To me, he said, "In the next life, please don't choose me." I realized then that he was neither mute nor afflicted with OCD. His silence and aversion were directed solely at me. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day we chose the bodyguards. This time, I'd grant his wish.

(REVISED) Misunderstanding and lack of communication had caused a huge gap between the two childhood sweethearts, Athena Stanford and Terrence Adams until they were shackled to marriage by their elders. She left loathing him in silence but after few years, she returned, determined to put up a fight and slap him with the truth. However, things didn't go according to her plan and everything turned upside down...

During a game of truth or dare, my boyfriend, Ryan Patel, chose to kiss his childhood friend, Michelle Woods, for three minutes to save her from a penalty. When I found out, I was furious. I called him in tears, confronting him about the unbearable intimacy between them. He remained silent for a long time before speaking coldly, "Are you done crying?" Then, he drove Michelle home. I crouched in the rain, watching couples huddle under umbrellas, and from that moment on, I never contacted Ryan again. Three months later, at an auction, I bought a men's wristwatch. When Ryan heard about it, he chuckled. "Forget it. In three days, I'll go and coax her back myself. She just needs a way out." His friends all sent me messages, congratulating me on how well I had him wrapped around my finger. I didn’t reply to any of them. I simply posted a picture in my feed—my newly issued marriage certificate.

I married Emory, my fated mate. But he never loved me. His first love, Ophelia, was stricken with the Lunar Blight. Her dying wish, she said, was to have a mating ceremony with Emory, to become his Luna. I refused. From that day on, to Emory and our son Leo, I was nothing but a selfish, cruel woman. Leo would intentionally feed me things I was allergic to. He’d pretend to get lost during the winter hunt, leaving me to search for him in a blizzard for a day and a night until I nearly died… It was all to keep me from disturbing Emory and Ophelia. So when he started crying and throwing a tantrum, demanding I go catch him a Silver-Frost Rabbit from the dangerous depths of the forest at night, I finally said no. “You don’t have to keep making me sick anymore,” I told him. “I won’t bother your father and Ophelia again.” Because I’m terminally ill. My wolf is fading. I’m going to die soon.