Enhypen #fever Lyrics

My son has a high fever, so I call my husband. However, he thinks I'm using our child to get his attention. Then, he takes his true love's son to the hospital when he's only scratched his finger. I look at my son, whose face is pale. I ask, "Do you want another father?" He nods. "Yeah. Dad doesn't like me, so I don't want to like him anymore." Later, I find him another father. That's when my husband objects.

Orlando and I had been together for ten years. I'd looked after his sick mom, sweating out a fever of my own, and where was he? Knocking back drinks with Rosalind, playing therapist to her broken heart. I swallowed my pride at work, getting chewed out by my boss, while he spent the night companying Rosalind because she had cramps. Then, when I got the news my mom had passed, I tried calling him, desperate for support. But nope—phone off. After a wild goose chase, turns out he was at Rosalind's graduation. That was it. I gave up. But Orlando wouldn't let go. Red-eyed, he begged me for just one more chance.

Jonathan Shaw is busy taking his mentor's daughter, who's burning up a fever, to the hospital on the day I fall. I'm pregnant. I need to undergo surgery to stabilize the pregnancy, but it's risky. However, Jonathan's tone is icy on the other end of the line. "I know you've always been biased against my mentor, Tessa. Still, do you think you can use something like this as an excuse to get me there?" I lose hope in him as a lone tear rolls down my face. "Don't bother saving the child. Help me abort it." My love for Jonathan leaves with our child.

While cleaning Desmond Maynard's house, I accidentally knocked over his mother's keepsake. He once told me it was his most precious possession. But when I picked it up, hundreds of love letters spilled out. There were beautiful poems, passionate lyrics, and heartfelt confessions. He had written one letter a week without stopping. On the back of each one wrote a line: To My Love, Bunny. The nickname rang a bell. It was his junior in college. Things started to make sense. I slaved away for 13 years, running his household and caring for his family, but Desmond never even said he liked me. That was because he already had someone he liked. I sorted the letters by date, put them back, and grabbed my phone to make a call. "Mom, I'm in for the marriage proposal."

I had everything planned a month in advance for our holiday. I was going to take my wife and daughter on a trip to see the country's beautiful landscapes, but just before we were supposed to leave, they both disappeared. I ended up standing alone in the pouring rain, trying to call them. My daughter's voice came through over the phone—it was cold and impatient. "Mommy's having dinner with Uncle Skyler. We don't want to go anymore." Right after that, the call was cut off. I had been blocked. They locked me out of the house on purpose and left me to freeze out there all night. The rain had already drenched me, and I was running a high fever that turned into pneumonia. Meanwhile, the two of them were off enjoying a vacation with Skyler Shire. That was the moment I knew—this marriage was well and truly over.

In the sixth year of my marriage with Zach Elroy, his workplace finally allocated us a small, two-room flat. I was overjoyed. I told our daughter she would finally have a bed of her own. But Zach said coldly, "This room is for Jennifer and her daughter. You and Kathy can keep sleeping on the floor." In my past life, we fought bitterly over it. He eventually gave in. But while I was away on a work trip, he went back on his word. He brought Jennifer Cross into our home and made our daughter, Kathy, sleep on the floor. That night, when Kathy came down with a high fever and cried out that she felt sick, he was reading Jennifer and her daughter a bedtime story. Our daughter passed away that night. Now, in this life, I calmly laid out the bedding on the floor and said, "Whatever."

I was reborn. Right back to the day I adopted Peter. The wind cut sharp, baby cries slicing through the cold. That's when it hit me—this was the day Stuart Pete, my oh-so-loving husband, dumped his illegitimate child right in my path after work. He knew me too well. The second I picked the kid up, he'd spin it into an adoption, making the boy ours. Last time, I fell for it. This time? I walked away without a second thought. Later, I heard the kid got pneumonia from being left out in the freezing cold—fever so bad, it wrecked him for life. I laughed until my stomach hurt. What I didn't see coming? Peter was reborn too—about to experience the life he was meant to have.

[WARNING! MATURE CONTENT R18+!!] “You're the drug that I'm addicted to and I need you to survive,” Nicholas spills out. ********* Nicholas Grey, a well known philanderer and CEO of Grey Group of Companies who believes that true love does not exist, gets entangled with a celibate staff. After she ignores his amorous advances, the cold hearted billionaire fires her out of anger. What he feels is happiness gradually metamorphoses into a striking pain as he watches his company falling apart. An unexpected turn of incidents bring them together again and he realizes that denying their intense chemistry is almost impossible after he spends a night with her. She turns out to be the only temptation he can't resist despite his encounters with different women. What trick is she pulling on him that no one has ever done? Even true love, the lyrics say, can fade away like the morning dew. Will theirs ever fade away?

"I want you... Wolf," She whispers sweetly, taking my bottom between her teeth and she lightly sucks on it with a moan leaving her lips. She releases my lip, her hands move to the buckle of my slacks and she loosens it. I clamp my eyes shut, leaning my head against the doorframe with a silent plea hanging on the tip of my tongue that I don't lose contro,l and take her like a savaged beast. --- LOVING wolf was like a chaotic thunderstorm engulfing me. He was beautiful, unpredictable, and brutally ruthless. Someone like me doesn't belong in his world. Used as a pawn, I find myself falling into the wrong hands time and time again. BUT I always end back up in the hands that make my body burn with fever, my heart pound with desire, and my blood boil, with contempt. He is my Wolf, and I am his Red to our screwed-up fairytale love story.

The woman Aelfric was to marry had agreed to undergo this ritual with him. It was the only way for them, as two of the area's few healers, to become strong enough to stop the devastating Swamp Fever from claiming the lives of hundreds of children each year. As healers, they had exceptional training, the problem was power. Aelfric's research had revealed exactly where healing power came from and why, until now, it was so limited. After this ritual, he and his beloved would change the tides of disease and death in these lands, perhaps the entire world forever. Aelfric knew Silver-Dew abhorred the idea of immortality. What they were about to do would rid their bodies of their very souls, freeing the concentrated power of the life-spark to be used for their magic. He'd painstakingly crafted each of them a vessel to safeguard their soul. Sil wore hers around her neck: a beautiful, lovingly crafted pendant with a blood red stone in the center. The stone was rendered from the carefully heated blood of the beast that had captured her, the very beast Aelfric had slain.