Ernst Spring Awakening

He grows up with Sabrina Reed, who used to be his brother's fiancée. He's always respected her as his future sister-in-law. But after his brother's untimely death, she slowly becomes the woman who holds his heart. He thinks she'll eventually marry him… until she shows up with her hand in another man's. She says, "I'm getting married. From today onward, you can only think of me as your sister!"

I'd been married to Joshua Merck for five years, but we still didn't have kids. To stay healthy, I took those pricey custom vitamins he ordered from overseas—never missed a dose. Then my cousin came back from studying abroad, took one look at the bottle, and was like, "That brand doesn't even make custom vitamins." I sent them to the hospital for testing. The lab report hit me like a truck—birth control pills. Powerful ones. Suddenly, all those mornings with Joshua hovering over me, acting so concerned while I took my "vitamins," made sense. The whole thing had been a lie. Five years of lies. Just as I was gearing up to confront him, my phone buzzed—a group chat notification. Shirley Hoare had tagged Joshua. [Honey, I had a prenatal checkup today, and the doctor said I'm carrying twins! Your family's about to get two grandchildren at once—excited?] My heart turned to ash. Everything clicked. Fine. We were done. I pulled out my phone and replied to my childhood sweetheart's message from three days ago: [After watching the northern lights, I still wanted to see penguins in Antarctica.]

I was performing the hundredth "restoration" surgery on my mafia husband's latest mistress when I finally decided to leave him. For five years, I, Isabella Rossi, have lived a double life: the respected wife of a powerful Don, and the personal physician tasked with "purifying" the women he discards. Vincent's twisted religious conviction is his law: only a wife untouched by any other man can bear his legitimate heir. I was that pure wife, yet he treated me as his most unclean possession. My love for him died a slow death. A thousand empty nights. It was killed by the cold steel of my own operating table. By the sounds of other women boasting about his touch. The five-year prenuptial agreement that bound me to this hell was set to expire at midnight. I had already called my grandfather, the only man Vincent truly fears. My escape was hours away. By the time he realized his mistake, it was too late.

The day my husband, Eric Johnson, brought his foster sister home from overseas, he gave her our master bedroom. "Yvonne just lost her husband. She's heartbroken, so I want her to feel comfortable," he said. I nodded obediently. "Okay." The next day was my birthday. Yvonne said she was feeling down and wanted her brother, Eric, to go stargazing with her. Eric turned to me and said, "She really needs me right now. I'll celebrate your birthday with you later." Still, I smiled and nodded. "Okay." Ten years of marriage and I was ready to walk away from it all… Because I have lived this life once already. In my previous life, I made the mistake of asking Eric to stay with me on my birthday. I did not let him go stargazing with Yvonne. She ended up falling into the water in her sorrow and was rushed to the hospital. After that, Eric shoved my head into a bathtub and held me there until I drowned. In this second life, when Eric handed me the divorce papers and said, "I’m only marrying Yvonne to help her revoke her foreign citizenship and restore her citizenship here. Once it's done, we'll remarry." I did not hesitate. I signed my name without a second thought. By the time he came looking for me again, I was already sitting on his archenemy's lap, smiling like a flower in full bloom.

I was getting a spa treatment at a beauty salon when Phoebe called. "I just saw Derrick buying jewelry for a woman at the mall." "Got it." "Aren't you going to catch him in the act?" "No need." I gave birth three months ago. After the spa, I needed to hit the gym, and by five, I had to pick up William. I had no time for this nonsense.

My mate, Alpha Alex, had a wolf cursed at birth by a witch—unable to catch the scent of any she-wolf, doomed never to find his true mate. He spent five long years searching for her, only to be met with nothing but disappointment. In the end, broken and exhausted, he gave up. That was when he claimed me. On the night of our bonding, he told me the truth. "Fiona," he said quietly, "I had no choice. If the pack knew their Alpha couldn't even find his true mate, I'd become a disgrace in their eyes. So I chose you. You are my selected mate—but I swear, no one will ever take your title. You are my Luna. Even if I one day find my true mate… that will never change." But then he added, his voice distant and heavy: "Even though I'm cursed… I must still try to find her. I need to search every corner of the pack." From that night onward, she-wolves began appearing at our den one after another—every day, without fail. Some were shy, some bold. Some came bearing gifts, others with longing in their eyes. But all of them came for one reason: to see if they were his mate. And I? I could only watch in silence—his Luna in name, but never truly in heart. Because I knew there was nothing I could do to change his behavior. I had lost count of how many times I cried and begged him to stop—but still, every night, he brought different young she-wolves into our den. I once thought he'd eventually grow tired of it, that he would stop one day. Until he brought home three young she-wolves from the werewolf club. He paid far more than other alphas for their first night. Why? Because a witch told him that only sharing a night with more than two virgin she-wolves from the same bloodline could awaken his wolf's dormant sense—and help him find his true mate. I let out a bitter smile because what he didn't know was— The true mate he had searched for all these years… was me. But I would never return to him again. And by the time he finally found out the truth— It was already too late.

My sister-in-law and I have always been close, and we happened to be pregnant at the same time. However, during a routine check-up, she was diagnosed with uterine fibroids. I urged her to have surgery as soon as possible, but she refused and instead claimed her sallow complexion was a sign she was carrying a "child of fortune." She then retreated to the countryside to rest and nurture her pregnancy. Nine months later, while I grieved the loss of my stillborn child, she came back from the countryside with a baby girl in her arms. Consumed by the suspicion that the child was rightfully mine, I demanded a DNA test. That same night, my own mother and brother conspired to take my life. After my death, I discovered it was all a conspiracy. My family had orchestrated everything to swap my child for hers. When I opened my eyes again, I found myself back to the moment before I took her for that fateful check-up.

On Christmas Day, eight months pregnant, I struggled through the kitchen,cooking for my husband and his secretary. When I finally sat down, hoping to taste a piece of turkey I didn’t even get during Thanksgiving, my husband shoved me aside like I was nothing. He slid the turkey in front of his secretary instead. “Alison,you’re already so fat. Stop eating. Let Daisy have it—she deserves to enjoy your cooking.” Daisy，chewing on the turkey I had painstakingly prepared, had the audacity to mock me under the guise of playing truth or dare with my child. “So, what do you think your mom looks like?” “Mommy looks like a fat pig on a farm!” “Her stretch marks? They’re like disgusting worms crawling all over her. Even Santa would run for his life!” Their laughter erupted like daggers piercing me from all sides. Humiliation and rage burned through me as my dignity was stripped bare. I demanded an apology from that vile woman, but my husband—my husband!—turned his cold, cruel face toward me and said, “Get out of here.” Pregnant, exhausted, and humiliated, I stood there in shock. Then I snapped. I grabbed the Christmas cake and turkey and threw them in the trash. I walked out without looking back. This wretched family doesn’t deserve a second of my effort or a single ounce of my love!

The night my boyfriend and I celebrate our first anniversary, we get into an accident. My soul travels through time and ends up ten years in the future. Here, I see that my boyfriend and I have married and started a family. It's the future I've dreamed of. However, it seems that I'm out of a job, and I've given up on my dream. I struggle to make it through endless days of my boyfriend's ice-cold treatment. Ultimately, I see myself sitting on the edge of a building's roof after falling deep into postpartum depression. When I open my eyes again, I see my boyfriend's panicked face…

I was the future Luna, chosen and arranged by the current Alpha to be the mate of his son, Kelvin. But Kelvin—the heir to the pack—was unlike any other wolf. He had been blessed by the Moon Goddess with two mates. On the night of the full moon, he was confessed to by Amanda, the daughter of the Alpha from the Shadow Pack. Unlike the traditional, quiet, and graceful she-wolves from our own pack, Amanda enjoyed riding horses, hunting rabbits, shooting arrows, and drinking like a soldier. These wild traits deeply attracted Kelvin. But despite his obvious interest, Kelvin said, "Amanda is not quiet or considerate. With such a bold personality, she could never become the Luna of this pack." Even though he claimed to dislike her high-profile behavior, his eyes never left her when she was hunting in the forest. On his birthday, everything remained uncertain—until he declared that he would bond with Amanda and make her his second mate. However, Amanda rejected him outright, saying, "There's no tradition in our pack where the Alpha's daughter becomes a second mate. We can only be Lunas, and we deserve to be the only ones loved by our mates." Hearing this, Kelvin turned to me and said awkwardly, "Jenny, Luna is just a title. Could you give this title to Amanda? She's still young and doesn't understand our pack's rules. You're both my mates, and there's no difference between you. But since there can only be one Luna in the pack, let her have the title. You'll still be my true Luna—the one who actually handles all affairs of the pack." His words made my heart tremble. Tears welled up in my eyes. And at that moment, the moonstone ring he had given me as a symbol of our mate bond slipped off my finger, hit the floor, and shattered into pieces. Seeing that, I knew—our bond was severed. For good. But when he cried and howled, begging for his true Luna to come back... I was already gone, vanished from the pack entirely.