Dabda Grief Stages

Our bridal room was set on fire, and my husband, a firefighter, was grievously wounded while trying to save me. I sent him to be saved at the hospital where Winnie Sloan, his childhood friend worked, but the surgery ended up being a failure, and my husband passed away. After the announcement that my husband was deceased, Winnie told me that his dying wish was that he wanted a child. Hearing that, I powered through my grief and used the sperm he had previously frozen to conceive a child through IVF, raising my son to be enrolled in the most prestigious university in the area. On the day of the celebration party, my son kicked me out and invited my husband and Winnie onto the stage as his 'biological parents', and that's when I found out that my husband had faked his death. All those years ago, he and Winnie had swapped out the embryo I'd conceived in secret. The son I had painstakingly given birth to and raised turned out to have no blood relation to me whatsoever. Meanwhile, my husband had been enjoying a luxurious life overseas with Winnie while waiting for a chance to reconnect with his son. In my rage, I confronted them and demanded an explanation, but ended up dying because they pushed me down the stairs. When I came to, I was back to the day of the fire.

When an unexpected attack headed by Seraphine Wildfrost's best friend resulted to her mate's death and the destruction of Silvercrest Pack, Seraphine was left utterly devastated. Overwhelmed by the betrayal, hatred, grief and loss of her other half, she was driven to her own demise. But when she awoke, it wasn't the afterlife she saw. The Moon Goddess offered her a chance to alter the future events, to prevent the destruction caused by Maximus' dangerous obsession with her. The only rule she must remember is to never let anyone know she's from the future, or things might get worse if the knowledge fell into the wrong hands. Seraphine set out to devise a plan, recalling the root of the future destruction and trying her best to alter it. It seemed easy at first. Yet, just like what happened most of the time, things didn't go as planned. How will Seraphine cope with the consequences of her decisions? How will she face the man who betrayed her from the future? And how could she have forgotten how utterly annoying her mate and future husband was when they first met, just because he was the perfect husband to her in her future? Seraphine soon realizes that a thorough plan didn't guarantee a smooth sailing.

In the opulent halls of the Stanley manor, Judy Kent, the daughter of the family chauffeur, grew up alongside Chris Stanley. Their childhood bond blossomed quietly, a tender friendship that seemed unshakable. But Chris' traumatic kidnapping left him with deep psychological scars, manifesting in a peculiar fixation directed solely at Judy. Tragedy struck when Chris' father died in a car accident. With Judy’s father on leave that day and a substitute driver behind the wheel, Chris' grief turned into misplaced hatred toward Judy’s family. Their once-close bond shattered. Consumed by bitterness, Chris withdrew from her and inflicted emotional torment, even coercing her into signing a contract that bound her to him. Yet beneath the layers of anger, Chris' love for Judy never truly faded—it was merely buried under his rage. When the truth of the accident finally surfaced, the weight of Chris' actions drove Judy to walk away, unable to reconcile with the pain of her past. Only then did Chris realize the depth of his mistakes. Overwhelmed by guilt, he vowed to make amends, embarking on a desperate pursuit to win back her love and trust. But can Judy’s fractured heart mend? Will their shared history and enduring connection be enough to overcome the barriers between them? Or has too much been lost in the wake of betrayal for love to flourish again in the manor’s shadowed corridors?

He slid his hands to my lower back, pressing me to his solid chest. “Do you have any mark on your body?” he whispered, his warm breath brushing against my ear. My heart thudded—not only from his nearness, but from his question. I still didn’t know what the mark meant. “No,” I lied. **** The night Emily Harpar is meant to shift, grief swallows her wolf, leaving behind only a faint crescent mark burned into her skin. Raised and mistreated in the kitchens of a powerful beta family, Emily loses everything—her mother, her dignity, and the mate who rejects her. Branded disgraced, she is sold into slavery… and claimed by the most dangerous ruler of all. Damian Stone, the feared Lycan King, is dying. Poisoned and sustained by a heart transplant, his human soul lies dormant while his ruthless lycan spirit, Malric, controls his body. With only three full moons before madness consumes him, Malric must find the Luna Healer marked by a crescent moon. Time is running out, and the mate he can’t resist is hiding the very mark that could save him. If the truth is discovered, she will be killed. If he chooses her, he will lose everything.

In the Guardians Land, Lynexia grew up by being someone no one else in the pack wanted, except her aunt. A prophecy said that she could bring disaster to Moonstone Pack. Her aunt was the only reason Lynexia was still accepted to live in the pack. One day his aunt fell ill and passed away. In grief and at the urging of everyone, the Alpha finally told Lyn to leave. However, people still got impatient and ganged up on her while she was still trying to pack her clothes. She still doesn't have a wolf and her strength was still limited, so she had to flee into the depths of the dark forest injured. Lying weak almost fainting, someone came to her. Lyn thought she will die soon, but the Moon Goddess had other good plans. That Lycan man is her true mate. His name is Derric. He gladly bring Lyn to his pack, Scarlett Pack, and the people there accepted her so well. They treated her nicely and made Lyn's heart touched.… until she told them her last name. Ordovic. The name that once slaughtered half of the people in Scarlet Pack and killed Derric's grandparents. The name Derric wanted to kill for revenge. Derric threw Lyn into the dungeon and tortured her mercilessly. What must Lyn do to earn Derric's trust back? That she is not guilty and should not get all this harsh treatment…. Should she run away again?

In the coastal quiet of Baler, a studio is born—not of architecture, but of intention.* Founded by Yam, a poet whose words cradle pain gently, and Franc, an artist who paints tenderness into walls, the studio becomes a refuge for those learning to stay—with grief, love, longing, and themselves. As visitors arrive, they leave behind more than footprints: a sigh recorded in bamboo, a poem tucked into the “Found Letters” shelf, a mural painted in crooked lines. Through zines, tea, silence, and sketchbooks, the studio teaches softness as revolution. Ren creates the *Window of Soft Returns*, an installation of anonymous voice recordings—each whisper forming a community of echoes. Drew builds the *Staircase With No Wrong Turns*, inviting people to walk through emotions without shame. Franc offers brushstrokes as brave work, and Yam curates writing circles that map healing in half sentences. Together, they host festivals that feel like hugs, and they begin traveling their archive, letting softness cross oceans. Even those who once left—like Miguel—return, discovering that some doors never truly close. Others, like Tala, capture the studio’s sound and turn it into a podcast of breath and becoming. Over seventy chapters, the studio transforms into something larger than itself: a mural of memory, a sanctuary for second chances, a place where return is sacred and voice is proof of survival. In the final bloom, the studio stands not as a monument—but as a reminder: > *“Staying isn’t easy. > But chosen together, > it becomes home.”*

For seven years of marriage, my Alpha mate, Cassian Blackthorn, slept with thirty-two different women, every single one of them from my circle. I didn’t know how much longer I could endure it. Even when I was seven months pregnant, as I went to my prenatal check-ups alone, I kept enduring. Alas, disaster struck without warning. Cassian’s new fling, Sophia Corwin, led a pack of rogue wolves to ambush me. I clutched my belly with all my strength, begging Sophia to spare me and my child. She only sneered. "Ha. That wasn’t me. If you’re looking for the real culprit, go find them yourself." By the time a passerby found me and rushed me to the hospital, it was already too late. My baby… had died inside me. When my mother heard the news, her heart failed. She was gone, too. These two crushing blows left my world spinning. Hatred, grief, and fury rose inside me like a tidal wave, drowning everything else. Cassian’s father, Leon Blackthorn, came to the hospital to see me. Expressionless, I stared at him. "Let me go, Leon," I said in a raw and hoarse voice. "Whatever I owed you, I’ve paid it back in full."

My sister-in-law, Hannah Martinez, was eight months pregnant when someone shoved her to the ground. Due to the heavy bleeding, she was rushed to the hospital. I happened to drive past, but I rolled up my window and pretended I saw nothing, pressing down on the gas pedal. In my previous life, I had immediately taken Hannah to the hospital when I saw her pass out from the blood loss. However, the situation was critical. After the severe bleeding, she developed an amniotic fluid embolism. My wife, Lauren Martinez, was the best obstetrician in the city. I called her, begging her to hurry to the hospital. Yet, she thought I was throwing a tantrum out of jealousy because she was having dinner with her first love, Isaac Poole, and his family. She believed I was using Hannah's emergency to force her to come back. By the time her family finally arrived, Hannah had already died from the failed treatment of the amniotic fluid embolism. Her entire family blamed me for Hannah's death, convinced that I had deliberately caused Lauren to misunderstand and let Hannah die. My brother-in-law, Jacob Turner, who rushed back from out of town, believed their lies. In his overwhelming grief, he hacked me to death with a knife at Hannah's funeral. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day Hannah was pushed and started bleeding out.

Our cruise ship got into an accident, but there was only one seat left on the lifeboat. The three of us drew lots, and I got it. I wanted to give Zac Xavier the chance of survival that I won. However, while we were arguing, his childhood sweetheart got on the lifeboat first. Just as we thought our lives would end, the rescue team arrived in time and brought us back from the boundless deep sea. After that incident, Zac and I walked down the aisle. Unexpectedly, his childhood sweetheart returned to that sea on our wedding day and jumped into it. When Zac got the news of her death, he was struck by grief and blamed everything on me. He imprisoned the pregnant me in the basement and made my life a torture. I bled profusely on the day I gave birth. He had the doctor save the baby, asking him to give up on my life. My only child was named Rory, something he thought up based on the name of his childhood sweetheart—Aurora. Even when I died, I was consumed by hatred. When I reopened my eyes, I had returned to the day he proposed to me after the cruise ship accident. Watching Zac hold my hand as he had done in my past life and promise to grant my every wish, I calmly withdrew my hand. "Zac, let's break up."

Three months since my husband, Julian Moretti, disappeared. I walked into his favorite den, the grief so deep it stole the air from my lungs. I just wanted to breathe him in, to find any trace of him that was left. Then I heard it. A familiar laugh. And the soft moan of a woman. Through a crack in the door, I saw him. My husband, the man "missing" for three months, had his hand tangled in another woman's hair. "Baby, just a little longer," he said. "Soon as I siphon enough cash from the family's books, we're gone. You and me." In his arms was Bianca, from the Rosso family. "What about your wife?" she purred. "Let her play the grieving widow. She's nothing without me anyway." My fists clenched. The world went quiet, my blood turning to ice. The next day, I put the word out to the entire Family. "I'm holding a memorial mass for my husband." At the service, he stormed in, a ghost returned from the grave, roaring that he was alive and there to take back what was his. But I was standing next to his uncle, Dante Moretti, and all I did was stare him down. "Then explain," I said, my voice cutting through the silence. "Explain the woman. Explain the money. Explain your betrayal... to the Family. And to me."