Dump Post Artinya

Richard Montague, a rich heir in Durmask, has just posted a new tweet on Twitter. The accompanying photo features a luxurious winery. The caption reads, "My wife loves this place a lot, so I bought it immediately." I tap on the photo, soon realizing that this is Amie Winery, the same place that I had briefly mentioned to Richard last week. Then, I recall the fact that he has told me that he's prepared a surprise anniversary gift for me in a mysterious tone. So, this winery must be the gift! With a wide smile on my face, I respond to his tweet in the comment section. But three minutes later, Kiara York, a popular celebrity from the same company that I'm in, quickly proclaims her love for Richard on the Internet. "Wow, my husband is so generous! I'm very satisfied with this gift!" All the onlookers and fans begin shipping Kiara and Richard like mad overnight. "What a sweet relationship! As expected of the rich heir in Durmask! Even the way he announces his relationship is very domineering!" The whole turn of events leaves me feeling stunned. Once I realize that Kiara is just trying to ride on the coattails of Richard's popularity, I quickly post a picture of my marriage certificate online. It comes with a caption. "If she's the legitimate wife, then who am I?" But Kiara soon posts a marriage certificate of her own. To my surprise, there's a photo attached to the certificate. Richard's face is shown in the photo. Kiara mocks me, "There's a limit to being a lunatic fangirl, you know! Rick and I are husband and wife by law! You can't just slap a Photoshopped picture here and pretend that he's your husband!" As I stare at both copies of the marriage certificates, which show the courthouse's stamp, I fall in deep contemplation. Then, I look at the place Kiara tagged on her Twitter comment. Finally, I can't resist calling Richard, who's currently overseas. "How dare you engage in bigamy behind my back!"

The hospital's latest intern, Lindsey Clark, is very pretty, but she's a total idiot as well. When my mom came to the hospital for a prescription, she swapped the vitamin C for potassium supplements, which were known to be very poisonous if misused. Mom, who was fresh out of surgery, suffered from heavy bleeding right after taking the medication. She died on the same night. Before I could hold Lindsey responsible for Mom's death, the latter quickly piped up with teary eyes, "I'm so sorry, Dr. Monroe! I just thought that potassium supplements can help your mother heal faster…" Even Michael Jones, my husband, who was the hospital director, took her side. "Your mom only had her idiocy to blame! She died because she took the wrong medication! How dare you drag Lindsey into this!" I was so furious that my cardiac arrest was triggered on the spot. Soon, I was sent into the operating room. Lindsey said she wanted to redeem herself by taking on the post as Michael's assistant in the surgery. But her hands kept trembling even when she tried to thread the suture needle. In the end, she took off her mask and picked up the suture with her teeth. Just like that, she used her saliva to wet the suture end. One day later, I died in the ICU due to a case of severe infection. When my spirit was about to fade away, I heard Lindsey crying sadly. "If it wasn't for my idiocy, Dr. Monroe wouldn't have died!" Michael just patted her dotingly on the head in return. "Having medical risks in a surgical operation is completely normal. You're still young, so stop blaming yourself already." Mom and I were cremated instantly, seeing as Michael intended to cover up our deaths. When I open my eyes again, I've returned to the day Lindsey has just gotten recruited by the hospital.

Le jour de notre anniversaire de mariage, la « muse » de mon mari a posté une échographie d’un fœtus sur Facebook, accompagnée d’un texte : « Merci à cet homme extraordinaire qui m’a soutenue pendant dix ans et m’a offert un fils. » J’ai failli m’évanouir en voyant ça, mais j’ai quand même laissé un commentaire : « Tu as eu un fils avec lui tandis que tu sais qu’il est marié ? » Quelques minutes plus tard, mon mari m’a appelée, furieux : « Tu vois le mal partout ! Je ne fais que lui prêter mon sperme pour une FIV. Elle voulait juste être maman célibataire. » Puis il a ajouté : « En plus, Réa est tombée enceinte du premier coup. Toi, tu as essayé trois fois et toujours rien. Ton ventre ne sert à rien ! » Trois jours avant, il m’avait dit qu’il partait à l’étranger pour affaires. Il ne répondait ni à mes appels ni à mes messages. Je pensais qu’il était occupé. Mais non. Il était avec elle pour son rendez-vous de suivi de grossesse. Une demi-heure plus tard, Réa a partagé une photo d’un festin. « Marre de la cuisine au Pays M. Et Luc a cuisiné pour moi, tout ce que j’aime ! » Je regardais les résultats de ma prise de sang confirmant ma grossesse, mes mains tremblantes, alors que ma joie se transformait en désespoir glacé. Huit ans d’amour fou. Six ans de compromis douloureux après le mariage. Cette fois, c’est fini. Je lâche tout.

Everyone knows that the mafia Don's only son, Antonio Gatti, gets to choose a completely new mistress of his own once every three months. Women who are in dire need of money and have no other option left in life will flock to Antonio's wife, Martina Russo, to apply for the position. If they get to spend a night with Antonio, they'll receive a million dollars. Those who are capable of giving birth to his heir will receive half of his family fortune. There are so many women who want to latch onto Antonio as their ticket to wealth. As for me, Martina, I become the hottest piece of gossip in the entire mafia underworld. "Just what sort of lethal leverage does the Gatti family have over Martina to the point that she can tolerate her husband's whims to this degree?" Everyone is very sure that I will submit to the Gatti family's influence and live a humiliating life for as long as I draw breath. That is, until Antonio brings a young woman named Camilla Ferrara home one day. Camilla is an ordinary woman, and yet she's capable of transforming Antonio, a cold-blooded and violent man, into a completely different person. He gets rid of all his other mistresses for her sake. He cleanses every inch of himself three whole times because she claims that he's filthy. Antonio has become obsessed with Camilla. He tells me, "Camilla is a pure and innocent angel; unlike you, whose hands are completely stained with filthy blood. Your heart is as dirty as the rest of you." He seems to have forgotten that I've done those filthy things just so I can get rid of all the obstacles in his way in order to protect the Gatti family's legacy. On the day Mamma passed away from her illness, Antonio prepared a huge fireworks show that's capable of lighting up the entire sky above New Wis City just to celebrate Camilla's birthday. After that, I find out that Antonio has the gall to dump my mamma's ashes into the fireworks assembly on Camilla's birthday. They end up combusting alongside the rest of the fireworks that night. I toss the divorce agreement in his face with all my might. At the same time, I unlatch the safety on the pistol that's hidden in my sleeve before pointing it at him and Camilla. "I'm giving you two choices right now. Option one—sign the divorce agreement and file for a divorce with me, which entitles me to half of the Gatti family's fortune. Option two—die together with your beloved mistress so that you can go to hell and apologize to Mamma there."

While I'm waiting for my wife, Anna Fulton, I happen to come across a popular post on social media that's posted by someone who lives in the same city as I do. "What should I do if my husband clings to me too much?" Among the comments that make fun of the original poster for flaunting her happy marriage on the Internet, the lengthy comment left by a masculine ID attracts my attention. "You gotta pretend to be ditzy and dumb. My childhood friend was forced to marry the man she doesn't love, so I suggested to her that she should pretend to be a directionally-challenged idiot. She kept up that facade for five years so far. "After that, her mother-in-law kept urging her to give birth to a baby. So, she secretly coated the stairs with grease, leading to her husband falling down the stairs. When she drove him to the hospital, she pretended to lose her way and drove a few laps around the suburban area. In the end, her husband could never get his manhood up ever again because the treatment got delayed. "Her mother-in-law thought it was an accident. She was afraid that my childhood friend might abandon her husband, so she bought her a house and a car. You have no idea how much that mother-in-law sucked up to her! "Today is her husband's professor selection day. She even suggested to him that she'd drive him to the campus. But the truth is, she plans on pretending to lose her way in the traffic just to drag the time out so that I can replace him in the selection. "Once her husband fails the selection, she'll use the opportunity to convince him to resign from his job. He's already a loser, to begin with. Once he loses his job, she'll have a valid reason to divorce him once and for all." The familiar experience makes my heart skip a beat. Before I can ruminate about the details, I hear Anna's guilt-ridden voice drifting into my ear. "I think I'm lost, Claude. Surely you can make it to the selection on time, right?"

On Christmas Eve, my father got the man I had secretly loved for ten years drunk and sent him to my bed. When I woke up the next morning, Roy pulled away from my attempt at a good-morning kiss. His voice was cold and distant as he agreed to marry me. After the wedding, Roy wasted no time submitting a transfer request. He took an overseas post and left. He did not return for five years. I gave birth to our daughter, Eve, alone and waited for him to come back home. When I heard that Roy had finally applied to return to a domestic position, I was overjoyed. I spent days preparing, imagining our first reunion as husband and wife. But even when the clock struck midnight, he still hadn't come home. Our daughter, ever so thoughtful, placed her most treasured possession—a photograph of Roy—into my hands. "Don't cry, Mommy," she said softly. "Look, Daddy's right here." I tried to convince myself that his absence was due to a delayed flight. But later that night, while watching the news, I saw him. He was on a crowded city street, holding a young girl in his arms. Beside him stood a woman, her smile soft and warm. Facing the camera, Roy said, "Being with them is my greatest wish." At that moment, something inside me broke. I wrote up the divorce papers, packed our things, and planned to take Eve to change her identity. I didn't want him anymore. The day before we left, a man I had never met came to see me. He was Roy's father. "You could call me Dad," he said, a faint smile playing on his lips. "But I'd rather you call me Ryan." I told him everything about the past five years—how I had waited, how I had hoped. When I finished, he laughed softly, an unusual warmth in his voice. "If it was just business," he said, "perhaps your father should have tied a bow around me and sent me to your bed instead. But I hold my liquor well—if I ever end up wrapped in a bow, you can be sure it's by choice."

On the night of New Year's Eve, I wake up in a hospital ward with an IV drip connected to the back of my hand. A nurse passes me the hospital bill. "It's 300 dollars in total, including the emergency treatment fee and the cost for a bottle of glucose drips." When I turn on my phone, I feel my heart sinking. I only have 29.01 dollars left in my bank account. The wallpaper of my phone is a countdown of my family contract's app. Today is the date when I have to renew my family contract for the year. In order to accumulate enough money to go home, I've been working as a staff member in concert venues. Earlier, I had collapsed backstage, so I was quickly sent to the hospital. The dial tone keeps beeping for a long time. Finally, my mom answers my call in what seems to be a noisy background. "Mom, I'm at the hospital right now. I need 300 dollars to pay the hospital bill." "You're at the hospital?" Mom's voice turns shrill immediately. "Why did you visit the hospital during the holidays? You really are a jinx!" "I fainted earlier. I was working at a concert venue—" "What? So, you refused to do chores at home during the holidays! Instead, you decide to work at a concert venue?" Mom interrupts immediately. "I don't have 300 dollars on me! You'd better come up with a way to pay that bill of yours!" "Mom…" My hand tightens around my phone. "Today is the last day of my family contract's renewal period. I'll renew the contract once I pay the bill." "Renew the contract, huh?" Mom just sneers at me. "That's a part of your duties! How dare you use it against me! Helena Lambert, if you don't renew the contract today, you can forget about calling me 'Mom'!" After that, she ends the call. I can only grip my phone to the point that my fingers turn white. After that, I tap on a social media app in hopes that I can borrow money from my friends, only to see the latest post on the social media feed. My younger sister, Hannah Lambert, has posted a photo collage there. "I'm here with my parents to watch my favorite singer's concert! Snagging tickets to the first-row seats is definitely worth it!" The background of those photos is the same concert venue where I work part-time at. It's the most expensive venue in town. Apparently, tickets cost 2,900 dollars each.