Emotional Turmoil Synonym

The most popular girl in school, Mona Culver, could only apply for the city's worst community college because of her poor school results. My childhood friend, James Holden, got our entire class to fill out application forms for community college too. It was his attempt to negotiate with Northrind University's admissions department to make an exception for Mona to study there. The top thirty students in the city shared pictures of their amended application forms to community college. Back in my past lifetime, I tried my best to talk them out of it. The application submission deadline was the next day, and no amendments would be allowed after that. If they wasted their time threatening Northrind by applying to community college, and the deadline passed, nothing could be done to change the results, even if they were the city's top thirty students. Their dreams of attending an Ivy League school would be quashed after ten years of hard work, and no one knew what their future would hold after that. James got angry and berated me, "You're just afraid Mona will be better than you once we start classes at Northrind. Stop pretending like you're doing this for us!" The rest of my classmates were also upset with me, and they turned their fury on me. "Our high school results mean nothing. With our abilities, we would still be able to attend Northrind next year if we repeat the year. You should just mind your own business!" We had been classmates for three years, and I could not let them compromise their futures. I informed our principal and their parents of their plans, and their application forms were amended. I managed to stop them from threatening Northrind's admissions department. All of them were accepted by Northrind in the end, and they became elites in their respective industries with bright futures ahead. Mona ended up getting pregnant with a thug's child while in community college, and she suffered from both physical and mental issues. She fell into deep depression and even attempted suicide several times. James broke down when he learned the truth, and he blamed it all on me. He worked with our classmates to fabricate evidence that I committed plagiarism, and they poisoned my drink. Even my parents were burned to death by a patient from a mental hospital. When I was reborn into this lifetime, I saw James change our group chat's name into 'Fight for True Love! Let's Go to Northrind Together!' I left the group without hesitation and blocked everyone's numbers.

My wife cheated on me—with my cousin. The three of us were headed to sign divorce papers when bam—car crash. Next thing I knew, I was back on the day we got our marriage license. This time, no fights, no drama. We both knew it was over. She ditched me for Jason fast and skipped the country with him. I stayed behind, buried in law books and case files. Five years later, she was famous—thanks to Jason pulling strings. Concerts, cash, fans screaming her name. Me? Still grinding at a law firm, backing folks who needed real legal help. Then came the family reunion. She showed up on Jason's arm, smug and shining, throwing shade like it was sport. But when I mentioned I was settling down with someone else? Her face snapped. "I made one dumb mistake! How DARE you move on?!"

My dad is a fan of tough love parenting. When I was a kid, there was a time when I obtained full marks on two subjects. But he told me, "Your grades don't mean anything in life. If you were a true man, you'd leap down five floors without batting an eyelash." Some time later, I was awarded for my act of bravery. But Dad scoffed in my face. "Not even a hair is harmed on your head. Why should you be awarded anyway?" I thought Dad wanted me to go through more training in life. On Christmas Eve, he ditched me on a snowy mountain under the guise of wanting me to go through more training. He didn't give me a tent or a lighter. Later on, Dad even brags about his parenting method to his relatives and friends. "A real man should survive and thrive in a desperate situation! I told Julian that he can forget about being my son if he can't even make his way back to the summit!" But the red dot on the GPS tracker installed in his phone hasn't moved for the past three hours. The truth is, I've already frozen to death in the mountains. Trapped in my fist is a scrap of paper detailing the SOS number that Dad had torn apart earlier. Meanwhile, my soul is currently floating above the dining table while watching Dad brag about his tough love parenting.

On my boyfriend, Draco Leroyce's birthday, I take him to a newly-opened fancy restaurant of my own for his birthday meal. Thinking that we'll be having a birthday cake for dessert later, Draco and I decide to order a set meal that includes a pizza and a plate of pasta. With a smile, I hand the menu over to the waitress. She plasters a fake smile on her face as she grabs the menu. But she secretly calls us "broke ass bastards" in Virellian. I draw my brows into a deep frown instantly. "What did you just say?" The waitress is momentarily stunned. Then, she shoots me another fake smile. "I said I'll prepare your food right away." I just sneer back at the waitress before responding to her in fluent Virellian, "You were calling us broke ass bastards."

After closing a 100-million-dollar business deal, I dip into an ordinary-looking cafe by the street on a whim. "I'll have a cup of cappuccino, please." The waitress, who's immaculately dressed, rolls her eyes at me before sashaying toward me. In a fake, nasally tone, she says, "I'm sorry, but there aren't any servers here. I'm the owner of this place." She eyes me up and down before continuing, "The prices here are relatively high for regular people. Are you sure you want to order coffee from me?" I pause in the act of massaging my temple. Finally, I scan around the cafe. "Your cafe is nothing to look at. Are you saying that you're not going to serve regular people, then?" The owner's friend jumps up to her feet instantly at my comment. Then, she starts berating me angrily. "Gianna has opened this cafe just to burn her free time and contribute to the community by giving them a taste of what it feels like to be rich! How dare you question her! "Do you even know who Gianna is? She's the successor of Luxara Corporation! Her boyfriend is Levi Anderson, the CEO of Miller Group! How dare you talk to her like this! You won't be able to make a living in Westford anymore!" I raise an eyebrow in response. The man who had kneeled before me with tears rolling down his cheeks while begging me to invest in his company… was the boss of Luxara Corporation, if I remembered correctly. Also, isn't Levi that live-in husband of mine?

My younger sister was crazy about novels and always envied the way ordinary heroines pick up penniless heroes and climb the social ladder. So, she started picking up men wherever she could. Until one day, a man with a face covered in sores collapsed at our doorstep. I instantly recognized the signs of syphilis and warned my sister repeatedly, and only then did she give up the idea. However, fate had other plans: my sister's best friend "picked him up" instead and married into a wealthy family. My sister held a grudge. On my birthday, she locked me in my room and set it on fire. No matter how desperately I begged, she refused to open the door. Outside, she sneered: "I know you're just scared I'll live better than you, so you want to drag me down into misery with you. People like you don't even deserve to be a sister!" I burned alive, my body reduced to nothing but ashes. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the very day my sister insisted on "picking up that man." This time, I quietly stepped back, letting her have her way—of course, I chose to let her succeed.

After finishing work for the day, I checked my phone and realized I had been added to a group chat called "Catch the Thief." The members were my parents, my brother, Brian Wise, and my sister-in-law, Paulene Wise. I typed a question mark. Paulene replied instantly. [My jewelry is missing. I didn't add you here to accuse you or anything. I just wanted to ask what you think. Honestly, there's no use for other people in our family to take my jewelry, so I've been wondering... I'm not saying you definitely stole it. But if you did, you don't have to deny it. I'm willing to give you a chance to make things right.] My mother said nothing. She just kept tagging me over and over. I let out a small laugh and typed back. [Maybe Brian took it and gave it to his side piece. I'm not saying he definitely has someone else. Just that men his age sometimes start looking around. I'm only guessing here. And if he really did mess up, you could give him a chance to make things right, too.]

The day before our wedding, my fiancé invites our family onto a cruise ship. He says he wants to test the authenticity of my feelings for him. He shoves my mother off the ship when the waves are at their choppiest. Then, he jumps into the water, too. I'm caught between a rock and a hard place. I panic, not knowing what to do. My mother had already choked on a lot of water, but she pushed me away weakly. She cried, "Save Adrian first! He can't swim!" However, after I drag Adrian Lawson onto land and go back for my mother, I find that she's already stopped breathing. Adrian watches me cry, his expression frosty. "Drop the act. Your mother was a swimmer when she was younger—how can she be dead? I can't believe you didn't save me first. "Vi is right—you don't love me enough. Our wedding is postponed. It'll happen only after you've reflected on your mistakes and I've received an apology from you and your mother." After that, he leaves while holding Vivian Sinclair's hand. He doesn't know that my mother can no longer swim after a major illness a few years back. He's shoved her to her death.

From as far back as I can remember, I knew my mom hated me. She gives me sleeping pills when I'm three. When I'm five, she tries pesticide instead. But I'm hard to get rid of. By the time I'm seven, I've already learned how to fight back. If she refuses to give me food, I flip the table so no one can eat either. If she beats me up until I'm on the ground, writhing in pain, I go after her beloved son the same way, leaving him bruised and bawling. That's how we stay locked in battle until I turn 12. Everything changes when my youngest sister is born. I'm clumsily trying to help with her wet diaper when Mom suddenly shoves me against the wall. The look in her eyes holds both disgust and fear. "What were you trying to do to my daughter? I knew it. You take after that monster of a father. Why didn't you just die with him?" I hold my aching head. For the first time, I don't fight back. I believe she's right. My existence is a mistake. I should never have been alive.

Eight months into my pregnancy, my husband finally makes time from his police duties to go to a prenatal checkup with me for the first time. The moment we step into the hospital, his satellite-encrypted phone buzzes urgently. The caller ID flashes briefly, and just like that, the man who's always calm and collected panics. "Honey, it's a red alert. Another international fugitive just crossed the border. I… I'm sorry…" He's clearly anxious, yet his tone is firm, leaving no room for argument. After apologizing, he rushes off. As I watch his SUV speed out of sight, my fist clenches tightly, crumpling the prenatal checkup sheet. I flag down a cab, slide into the car, and swiftly instruct the driver, "Follow that car. Don't lose it." A Red Notice for a fugitive? What a joke. My father, who works at the National Security Agency, barely catches wind of a notice like that. Yet, somehow, a mere police chief who only assists with cases is suddenly tasked with catching a high-priority criminal. Fine, then. I can't wait to meet the superior who's given him such an urgent assignment.