Does Cheong-san Die In All Of Us Are Dead

Jika pria memiliki sebutan 'caligynephobia' untuk ketakutan mereka terhadap wanita cantik. Lantas mengapa wanita tidak diberi sebutan untuk ketakutan yang serupa? Kehidupan sekolah Eritha yang seharusnya dipenuhi romansa, kini harus terganggu dengan trauma yang bahkan tidak memiliki nama tersebut. Ia akan pusing, mual bahkan pingsan jika berdekatan dengan pria yang ideal pada pemandangannya. Bahkan ia langsung terbaring pingsan ketika ia memulai kehidupan barunya dan mendapatkan pernyataan cinta dari seorang pria sombong bernama Arlando. Kenapa pria itu terus mengikutinya setelah terus menerus membuatnya pingsan? Bagaimana jika semua orang tahu trauma yang sudah susah payah ia rahasiakan? Apapun yang terjadi, kami harus berjarak!

Four years ago, Harper Lane swore she’d never fall for a hockey player—especially not him. Logan Shaw was everything she promised herself to avoid: arrogant, talented, and allergic to anything resembling feelings. Back in freshman year, he was the rising star of Hartwell University’s hockey team. She was the quiet girl who saw through the charm and walked away before he could bruise her pride. Now it’s senior year, and Logan is co-captain of the team, living in the infamous Ice House where parties, hookups, and rivalry rule. He’s got NHL scouts watching, his best friend as captain, and a reputation that keeps him safely unattached. He likes it that way—until Harper steps back into his world, no longer the shy girl he remembers. She’s confident, smart, and infuriatingly composed—President of her sorority and laser-focused on grad school. Harper doesn’t have time for Logan’s games. But when campus tradition forces their worlds to collide, the line between old tension and new desire starts to melt. What begins as banter and rivalry turns into something that neither of them planned—and something Logan isn’t sure he deserves. Because breaking the ice between them means letting her see the cracks underneath the surface. And Harper knows that once she lets him in, there’s no going back. It’s the last year, the last chance, and maybe, just maybe, the last time they can pretend not to care.

At the party for our first wedding anniversary, I hit the floor—face-first on a red carpet, gasping like a fish out of water. Carlo Pipino, my husband, had his arm draped around Gianna Verde, his childhood flame, sipping champagne and laughing. Gianna knew I was allergic to nuts. So, obviously, she bathed everything in hazelnut dressing. One bite and boom—my throat locked, my lungs lit up, and hives popped like confetti. I reached for my allergy meds—came up with a fistful of melted M&Ms instead. Gianna laughed when she saw my face. "Surprise! Carlo swapped your meds. Seriously, Siena, one nut? Dramatic much?" I slid off my chair, wheezing, while the crowd placed bets on how long my "performance" would last. "Carlo... my meds..." I croaked. "Please. I'm gonna die." He sighed, annoyed. "God, you're so dramatic. Why do women always play dead for attention? You know I love you. Just stop this show already." Right then, my heart shattered faster than my lungs could. I stopped begging. Hit the distress signal. Called my real family.

On my birthday, the dining table was loaded with all my favorites. My mom had been cooking and baking the entire afternoon, insisting everything be perfect for when Mike got home from work so we could celebrate together. But then, he called and said his first love had been drugged at a bar, and he had to go help her. I stopped him and begged him not to go. Mike snapped at me. "Jesus, Em, don’t pull this jealous wife crap. She’s alone, defenseless, and unconscious—I can't let some random dude take advantage of her!" My mother heard those words and was so enraged that she had a heart attack. She died on the spot. Just like that, my mom died on my birthday. I called Mike, asking him to attend my mom's funeral. But before he could reply, I saw Cathy Miller's latest Instagram post, captioned: [Mikey… after all these years, it was always you.] Mike had liked it. My thumb moved before my brain caught up, typing out the only words that mattered: [A homewrecker and a lying bastard. Hope you rot together.]

Calista Ivy Castillo made a huge mistake by accidentally entering an alternate world where she doesn't belong; it may have the same name as her country, but it's totally different from where she came from, from its cultures down to its places. It all started one night when Calista saw a lady who looked precisely like her from head to toe, and for no apparent reason, they both couldn't stop themselves from attacking one another when their eyes locked. Calista killed her doppelganger from another world by accident. And with a single gust of wind, she finds herself in another world-the world of a woman she murdered. In the blink of an eye, she transforms into a princess who must marry a cold but attractive prince named Theodore Mason Fuentes in order to save their kingdom.

When I went to buy a new house, all I found was crumpled newspaper where my savings should've been. I almost called the cops—until I found out Tony Jarrett, my own husband, had blown seven years of my hard-earned cash on a shiny new motorcycle. For Pauline Schmidt. His ex. I asked why. He just shrugged. "She's a single mom. Life's tough. This way, she won't have to walk so much." I wanted to scream, but I swallowed it down. Made him at least get an IOU from her. While I was busy sourcing stuff for the factory, a flood warning hit our town. And Tony? Out buying toy cars with Pauline and her kid. Our son was home alone, trying to stay above water. I was back. Like life hit rewind and dropped me into that exact day. The day he gave her the motorcycle. I saw them—laughing, tight, like their own little picture-perfect family. But I didn't cry this time. Didn't beg. Just turned and walked off.

On my birthday, my fiancé used his supermarket points to get me a pair of dishwashing gloves. But at an auction, he bought a five-million-dollar gem for his first love. I was mad, confronting him, but he called me a gold digger. "I've been giving you money to spend. Isn't it only right that you take care of me? This was supposed to be my final test for you. If you passed, we'd get married. You've let me down big time." I broke up with him. He turned around and proposed to his first love. Five years later, we ran into each other on a private vacation island. Alex Thompson saw me in the workers' uniform picking up trash on the beach. He mocked me on the spot. "You turned your nose up at the gloves I got you, and here you are, scavenging garbage. Now, even if you begged me, I wouldn't give you a second glance." I ignored him. My son's social studies project was to clean up the backyard with a parent. His dad had expanded the yard all the way to the beach. Cleaning it up was exhausting.

After going bankrupt, I was given away as a gift by my former nemesis, Colt Reyes. My former lover, Emerson Snyder, the one I had played with the most ruthlessly before, now traced his fingers along my face, his hands roaming every inch of my body. "You sure had a lot of lovers," he said. I provoked him defiantly, telling him he was the most despicable among all my lovers. He gave my face a light pat, his suggestive tone dripping with amusement. "That's okay. Now you only need to serve me."

Lake is the new girl in town, she meets the quiet boy. A typical love story. Except she had friends in her mind that she talks to, and he isn’t quite who he says he is.

My husband was ruled by his obsessive-compulsive disorder, enforcing rigid schedules that governed our household. On our daughter's birthday, he and his assistant showed up late. The girl, who mirrored her father's need for order, wasn't upset. She just smiled and invited them to cut her cake. My heart shattered as I watched their cream-covered faces and joyful photos. The next day, I handed him the divorce agreement, confusing him. "Just because Edith didn't cut the cake with you?" "Yes."