Novel & Cerita Draco Malfoy 7th Year

Yesterday, my fiancé told me he didn’t have time to come home with me for the holidays, but secretly, he had booked a flight to my hometown. I couldn’t help feeling a quiet thrill. Justin Baker had always been good at surprises back when we were dating. I just didn’t expect that now, when we were practically like an old married couple, he’d still do something like this. I was just about to tell my dad the news when my stepsister suddenly dropped a message in the family group chat that she was bringing her boyfriend home for the holidays. The relatives in the family immediately started teasing her, wanting to see what he looked like. The next second, photo after photo of her and Justin’s couple pictures flooded the chat. “I told you he’s really handsome, right? And he’s the same age as me.” “Oh wow, you locked him down so young? Dawn, you’re impressive.” “Hmph, of course. He’s crazy about me.” I stopped breathing. So that was why, when he found out I’d be spending the holidays at my mom’s place this year, he suddenly said he didn’t have time to come with me. It was because he already knew we wouldn’t run into each other. My hands trembled as I sent him one last message. [I’ve returned the engagement gift to you. We’re done.]

In the seventh year of dating Lorenzo Townsend, he still didn't want to marry me. One day, I said to him, "Lorenzo, I'm getting married." He frowned slightly, not even sure if he heard me right. "The company is going public, and we're swamped. This is not the time to discuss such an insignificant topic," he said. I smiled calmly. Maybe to him, it seemed like I was pushing him to marry me. But the truth was, I was getting married, but not to him.

I am the woman of a mafia boss, Arthur Borne. Ever since we got married, he doted on me endlessly, professing his love for me publicly. The entire time, I believed he loved me deeply and simply could not help but flaunt his love for me to the world. Until one night, I overheard a conversation he had with his men. "I have dealings in both business and the underworld. Enemies are lurking everywhere. The only way to protect Ely is to make Juniper appear as my weakness so she can be Ely’s shield." This entire time, all the pain I suffered for him was nothing but a sick joke… Fine, two can play at this game!

I've been mated to Alpha Alaric Goremane for five years, and I'm still a virgin. On the night he claims me, I stand before him, naked. With my heart pounding against my chest, I muster the courage to step forward and wrap my arms around him. But he pulls away, and then comes the words that lingered in my head for years like a devil's whisper. "I'm sorry, Kyna. I have severe germaphobia and can't handle physical intimacy. Please give me some time." In that moment, my heart plunges into the abyss. But when I see the torment in his eyes, I convince myself that he doesn't love me any less. He's just sick, and all I have to do is wait. So, I wait for five long years. On our fifth mating anniversary, I cross thousands of miles in a raging storm just to see the look of delight on his face when I surprise him. Sure enough, I see the warmth in his eyes and gentleness in his expression. But what a pity… it isn't for me. The Alpha, who claims to be an obsessive clean freak, is on one knee before his childhood sweetheart. He gently slips off her rain-soaked heels, dries her feet, and warms her cold toes with the heat of his palm. It's as if that's the most natural thing in the world, and as if his world holds no one else. He sighs. "Serene, how many times have I told you that you'll catch a cold? What would you do without me?" In that instant, the last of my delusions shatters. I finally realize that his germaphobia is selective, and I'm simply the one he can't bear to touch. Instead of making a fuss, I slip off the ring I've worn for five years and walk into the storm without looking back. Later, I hear he tries to win me back with the most expensive roses in the city. But the Kyna Lupen who loves him is long gone.

I followed an account of a couple that was not very popular but was very sweet. The account recorded every detail of the account owner and her boyfriend. They would argue over a plate of pasta and then look at each other and smile, playfully calling the other person a child at heart. They would hug tightly under the starry sky on a mountain top and say that they wished time could stop at this moment. Although the account owner never showed her face, I was still touched by her captions. The account was updated again the day before I was getting married. [Ten years of love ends here. From now on, he's just her husband, and I'm just her best friend. This account will no longer be updated. I wish my best friend and her beloved man a happy ever after.] The photo showed my fiancé, Josh Clark, and me, taken from behind.

Three years after my death, my mother finally remembered my existence. As my older brother was having kidney failure, she wanted me to give him my kidney. To force me to make an appearance, she pushed my severely depressed wife into committing suicide and left my daughter roaming the streets to be killed in a hit-and-run. However, she still did not give up. She started making up things about me on the internet. In the end, my friend told her, “Mrs. Harding, Aiden died in the earthquake three years ago. A steel girder pierced him right through the heart after he saved you, and he died on the spot due to blood loss.”

At our seventh wedding anniversary dinner, I noticed something strange. My best friend, Darren Blackburn, who had always been single, had suddenly changed his profile picture to a couple’s photo. "So you’ve been hiding a girlfriend from me?" I joked with a grin. "When are you bringing her around? I should at least meet her and make sure she’s good enough for you." He just smiled and shook his head, brushing it off. "Not yet," he said. "It’s not the right time." Then Deanna Cunningham, my wife’s voice called out from the kitchen, "Babe, come help me tie my apron." I hadn’t even pushed my chair back yet when Darren was already on his feet, jogging over. He stepped behind her, wrapped his arms around her waist, and tied the apron strings for her. I froze where I stood. Seeing the look on my face, he quickly tried to explain, "I’m just used to helping out at home. My mom’s always bossing me around. It’s basically muscle memory. Don’t read into it." I didn’t argue or make a scene. I kept my expression neutral and carried on with the dinner as if nothing had happened. Only after all the guests had left did I turn to Deanna, who was clearing the table, and say calmly, "Let’s get a divorce." She slammed the dishes down with a loud crash and glared at me. "Seriously? Over something like that? Just because he tied my apron once?"

Pregnant with the employer's son and forced to abort the fetus in his content, Amelie Anderson, a girl working on a rich family decided to escape to the village where she was grandfather's grandimacy, on the father's advice. In her escape, amelie successfully conceives and gives birth to a very handsome, healthy baby boy, inheriting his father, Jonathan Hayes. The consequences of raising a baby alone are not easy. Would Amelie be able to raise a baby boy by herself?

I manage to drag Jared Sheppard from death's door. Since then, I've accompanied him from his poorest times all the way to the current moment, when he's now worth tens of millions of dollars. On the day his company goes public, he gets engaged to another woman. "Gabrielle, she's different from you. She's an actual princess of the elite. I need to give her an official title, so I can't fool around with you anymore." I never bothered defending myself. It's time for this farce to end, anyway. After all, there's still a man waiting for me at home, who's been calling me his princess since I was a little girl.

After the SAT, I come across a post online. Someone posts, "If you could make a choice all over again, which major would you choose this time?" The comments are filled with people wishing they had chosen a different major. They all have their own regrets. One response stands out from the rest. "I would choose literature. That way, he and I wouldn't have missed out on the four years we should have spent together because of that unwanted baggage." I chuckle and am about to scroll past when I suddenly notice the profile picture and username. They are identical to those of my childhood sweetheart, Winter Andersen. I click into the profile. Everything matches her current account exactly, except that the age is ten years older. My heart sinks to my stomach. This has to be her ten years in the future. No wonder I am the only one celebrating when we are admitted to the same major. No wonder she zones out for so long after seeing my best friend, Simon Brown, receive his acceptance letter from the literature department. It turns out I am the unwanted baggage responsible for so many of her regrets and disappointments. Since that is the case, I quietly press "Accept" on the admission offer written entirely in a foreign language. I shall end this mistake ten years ahead of schedule.