Novel & Cerita Everlasting Food

I've been in a long-distance relationship with Xavier Harrington for four years. Every time we meet up with each other, the first thing he says to me is, "You've gotten fatter… and shorter." When my friend finds out about it, she jokes to me, "Maybe he has another girlfriend who's taller and thinner than you." It's supposed to be a joke, and yet I take it seriously. It explains why I've decided to travel a span of 1,800 miles just to seek Xavier out at the city he's stationed to. But that's when I accidentally stumble upon Xavier going on a stroll with a young woman side by side. I trail behind them, only to see them going to a cafe that's filled with people. There, they line up so that they can snap commemorative photos. However, whenever Xavier's hanging out with me, he often turns my suggestions down impatiently. To him, lining up at such places is a waste of time. Later on, Xavier and the woman secure a table in a restaurant. There, Xavier pulls out a chair for her before he starts setting out the cutlery for her. Even when the food is served, he will subconsciously push the woman's favorite dish in her direction. For the first time ever in our relationship of eight years, I find out that Xavier can be caring when he feels like it. I watch as Xavier chats animatedly with the woman at the table. He shares everything with her, be it the irritating experiences at work or the funny and interesting incidents that have happened to him so far. Then, I lower my head to look at the short text messages Xavier has sent to me in the past. "Time for work. It's lunch time. I'm about to nap." Suddenly, I find my relationship with Xavier extremely boring, so I dig out the invitation sent by my company regarding their outstation request and tap on it. After all, I no longer want anything to do with this flawed relationship anymore.

At 10:00 pm sharp, a food deliveryman wearing a cap knocks on the door of Unit 502. "Excuse me, are you the one who ordered delivery?" Unit 502 is an apartment that's rented out to multiple people. There are three rooms here altogether. The one opening the door is my roommate, William Yates. He has his headphones on and is currently immersed in a game. So, he waves a hand impatiently. "It wasn't me." The deliveryman wastes no time in pulling out a machete. Immediately, he slashes William's throat in one fluid motion. Next, the deliveryman opens the door leading to another bedroom while holding the takeout. "Did you order delivery?" That room belongs to a gym trainer named Leon Holton. He's obviously taken aback by the deliveryman's presence. "Nope. Who are—" The deliveryman doesn't give Leon a chance to finish his question. He reacts by plunging the machete into Leon's heart. When I'm done with my shower, I open the bathroom door to see large puddles of blood on the floor as well as the deliveryman, who's wielding a machete. "They weren't the ones who ordered delivery. Did you do it?" Scared out of my wits, I subconsciously shake my head. "It's not me! I don't know anything—" Before I can finish speaking, the deliveryman hacks me to death. When I open my eyes again, I've gone back five minutes in time before I get murdered in cold blood. Almost immediately, I rush out of the bathroom, only to see the alarmed expressions plastered all over William's and Leon's faces. That's when I'm certain that everyone has gotten reborn. Suddenly, the doorbell rings loudly. A suppressed masculine voice echoes afterward. "Excuse me, are you the one who ordered delivery?"

On my birthday, I personally prepare 16 dishes. After setting up the candlelight, I open a bottle of red wine. I take a photo and send it to my husband, Eric Sinclair. "I'm working late tonight. Don't wait for me," he replies. I choose to believe him. But after midnight, I notice an Instagram story posted by Shirley Huxley, his secretary. Eric was there with her, dressed in the trench coat I once gave him. They sat side by side in the VIP seat of football stadium where my favorite Super Bowl take place. Entwined in a passionate embrace, they kissed beneath a sea of shimmering lights and the roar of thousands of fans. That game is the one I have always longed to experience with him. I look down at the cold food on the table. Eric's words keep ringing in my head. "I hate kissing." "Marriage is a partnership, not about love and kisses." Though we've been married for ten years, we've never shared a single kiss. Meanwhile, he's out there, kissing Shirley openly and passionately. Despite it all, not a single tear falls from my eyes. The next day, Eric settles into his chair, completely unfazed. "Return the gallery to Shelly," he commands. I nod quietly, saying nothing. Suddenly, Layla Sinclair, my daughter, comes running down the stairs and throws herself into Shirley's arms. "Aunt Shirley, you're my favorite. I don't like Mom!" In that instant, it hits me—the home I devoted my heart and soul to means nothing anymore. It doesn't matter that I've been married to Eric for a decade. Now, all I want is to find myself again. I decide to accept an invitation from the Parisoir School of Fashion Design. From this moment on, I won't wait for them to come home, and I won't look back.

In the third year of my eating disorder, my husband, Nikolai Hollowell, is the only person who still insists on making me eat. Even when I vomit until I'm a trembling mess, he will make another dish for me again half an hour later. He coaxes gently yet stubbornly, "Have one more bite of the apple slice, Emi." But the moment I smell the food, I throw up again until I can barely breathe. That night, I make another post on X to ask for help. "How is someone with an eating disorder supposed to keep living?" The top comment says, "Get a boyfriend who's a chef! My darling cooks different dishes for me every single day, all 365 days without repeating once. Even the apple slices he cuts are shaped like cute little bunnies, so I absolutely love eating now." Someone replies enviously, "Wow! Where do you find a man like that?" She answers, "Find one? Good men like that no longer circulate on the market. He is actually married. His wife has had anorexia for three years. She has become only skin and bones. "He says just looking at her kills his appetite, and he does not even want to touch her. Well, I'm nothing like her. I always finish every dish he makes." My breathing catches in my throat. This morning, Nikolai personally made bunny-shaped apple slices for me. My fingertips turn cold as I tap into the woman's profile. Her caption reads, "Wow! If your wife won't eat bunny-shaped apple slices, then I will!" Attached is a photo of a man's long, elegant fingers holding an apple slice up to the woman's mouth. And the one reflected in her starry eyes after zooming in—is a face identical to Nikolai's.

To scrape together enough money for tickets home on New Year’s Eve, I took on a part-time job and accidentally entered a livestream where money was being thrown around. The boy on screen had fair skin and wore a high-end knit sweater, with a luxuriously decorated villa behind him. “It’s too boring being kept here. My sugar mommy gives me more money than I can spend. Let’s do some giveaways.” Excited, I grabbed several large cash drops in a row. The money for my girlfriend’s and my tickets was almost enough. Then the boy suddenly leaned close to the camera. “She keeps saying the tear mole under my eye looks like her boyfriend’s. What bad luck, sharing the same feature as some poor loser.” My fingers trembled. I had a tear mole in the exact same spot. A comment floated by: [How could a sugar mommy’s boyfriend be poor?] The boy sneered, running a hand through his hair. “She’s just playing around. Told him she’s a million in debt, and he’s dumb enough to work and help her pay it off.” My heart went cold. My girlfriend was also supposedly a million in debt. “The funniest part is, she just spent three days with me. When she left, I asked if she still had the energy to go be with him. “She said as long as she tells him she’s going to wash dishes at a barbecue place, that idiot will feel bad and go deliver food to make some extra money overnight.” Another big cash drop came in. I had enough now. My phone rang. Wren’s voice sounded tired as she said, “Aran, the ticket money isn’t enough… I made a little over two hundred dollars washing dishes. I’ll head home now.”

“You said you wanted to taste freedom, right? Then, allow me to show you what freedom tastes like.” — Kirill Yevgenyevich Ivanov — Nang nakawin ni Anastasia ang pitaka ni Kirill Ivanov, akala niya'y pera lamang ang mawawala sa bilyonaryo. Pero maling-mali siya. Dahil ang tunay na ninakaw niya ay ang atensyon ng lalaki—isang pagkakamaling magiging sanhi ng panibagong yugto ng buhay niya.  Sa liblib na isla na pagmamay-ari ni Kirill, paniniwala niya ay kamatayan na ang magiging kabayaran ng kaniyang mga kasalanan. Ngunit laking gulat niya nang nagdesisyon itong gawin siyang sekretarya. Inaakala niyang lumambot na ang puso ng binata, pero kalaunan ay nalaman niyang patibong lang pala ang lahat, isang bitag. Kirill doesn’t want revenge—he wants ownership. Her body, bound by lies that taste like devotion. Her mind, poisoned by secrets only his hands can unravel. Her soul, seduced by promises of freedom… a deceptive illusion.  But when a forbidden spark ignites between predator and prey, their twisted passion threatens to shatter the line between salvation and damnation. Pero hanggang kailangan ba mahuhumaling si Tasia sa ipinagbabawal na lasa ng sarap na ipinalalasap ni Kirill?  How much can Kirill destroy just to claim what’s his? Their story is a lethal game of desire and deceit, where love wears the face of ruin— and surrender might be the deadliest sin of all. “Starting tomorrow, you’ll be my secretary. My shadow. You’ll fetch my coffee and file the receipts for the men I bury. And every night, you’ll sit across from me at dinner, wearing the dresses I choose, eating the food I allow… and wondering when I’ll finally snap.” — Kirill Yevgenyevich Ivanov

My future mother-in-law, Diane Grant, loved setting rules. On the day I proposed, she sat there with that smug, superior look and told me if I wanted to marry her daughter, Olivia Grant, I had to pass her so-called "son-in-law training", which was three months working as a food delivery driver. She said she wanted to test whether I could handle hardship. For my fiancee's sake, I kept my identity hidden. I was the heir to one of the most powerful families in Crestfall City, and I agreed without hesitation. For three months, I shed every trace of privilege. I worked from dawn to night, delivering orders across the city. My parents didn’t understand. My friends disapproved. Mrs. Grant watched me like a hawk, picking me apart every single day. "Three minutes late? That’s a $3,000 penalty. The wedding shall be delayed by a month!" "Wrong unit delivery, bad review? $8,000 penalty. You don’t get to see Olivia this week!" Even then, I never gave up. Until the final day. I received an urgent order with a massive tip. The note was in bold: "Lifesaving medication. Immediate delivery." I sped through the streets, pushing myself to the limit. Just as I was about to enter the residential compound, Mrs. Grant stepped in front of me, blocking my way, her face full of disdain. Her voice shot up sharply. "The wedding gift goes up to $200,000. Not a cent less." I looked at her look of absolute certainty and suddenly laughed. My finger slid across the screen. The recipient of that urgent order was her precious son, Christopher Grant. I slowly put away the unlimited card in my pocket, along with the check I had prepared for a million-dollar wedding gift. Originally, I had planned to reveal my identity that day to give her the surprise of a lifetime. It seemed there was no need.

On the eve of our engagement ceremony, I noticed that Angelina Manning, my rich girlfriend, wasn't paying attention at all when we were shopping together. I bought a hotdog from a nearby food truck and passed it to Angelina's lips. To my surprise, she tossed it to the ground furiously. "Devon Fuller, my family wants a son-in-law who can carry himself with confidence and poise! Stop buying these cheap things! You'll just end up embarrassing me even more! How can my parents ever accept you if you keep doing things like this?" Feeling rather awkward, I picked up the hotdog and threw it into a nearby trash can. Then, I nodded in response so that I could maintain our four-year relationship. "Okay." I thought that was the end of the outburst, but Angelina decided to get engaged to Jeffrey Terell the next day. "Devon, Jeffrey committed suicide and got admitted into the hospital just so he could be with me. Once he's back to normal, I'll definitely return to you." I still nodded and broke up with Angelina. "Okay." After that, I left. Four years later, Angelina shows up at my residence with the diamond ring she had used to propose to me back then. "Devon, Jeffrey has agreed to file for a divorce from me. We can finally be together again! I told you before that I can return to your side as soon as Jeffrey lets go of his obsession over me and stops hurting himself." I frown at Angelina, who looks all loving and affectionate. At the same time, I mentally curse myself for picking this particular time to come home. After all, I've decided to come back to my cottage just to grab something on a whim, only to bump into my delusional ex-girlfriend. I just push her toward the door. "Excuse me. I don't want to be late picking up my kid from school."

Owned by the Billionaire Chef *Synopsis* After a decade ng pagkakawatak-watak, unti-unting nagkakasundo ang pamilya sa likod ng **Velasquez Empire**. Akala nila sapat na ang panahon para ibaon ang nakaraan. Pero may mga katotohanang hindi namamatay — naghihintay lang ng tamang oras para bumalik. Para makabuo ng bagong legacy, nagdesisyon si **Arden Velasquez** na ipasa ang buong empire sa panganay niyang anak. Kay **Caspian Louis Velasquez** — ang Michelin-star chef na mas komportable sa init ng kusina kaysa sa lamig ng boardroom. Pero ang pagtanggap sa responsibilidad ay nangangahulugang pagpili sa pagitan ng pangako at passion. Sa pagitan ng apelyido niya… at ng pangarap niya. Sa gitna ng transition, makikilala niya si **Camille Vega** — isang calculated at fearless food critic na kayang magpatumba ng reputasyon gamit lang ang isang review. Matalim ang dila. Mas matalim ang isip. Unang pagkikita pa lang, banggaan na. Second meeting, mas personal na ang atake. Hanggang sa ang simpleng professional rivalry ay naging mainit na tensyon na hindi nila ma-control. Pero hindi lang basta critic si Camille. May koneksyon siya sa madilim na bahagi ng nakaraan ng Velasquez family — isang lihim na kayang gumiba sa bagong pundasyon na pilit binubuo ng pamilya. Kapag bumalik ang katotohanan, walang hindi masasaktan. At ngayon, kailangang pumili ni Caspian: Iligtas ang pamilyang nagbigay sa kanya ng pangalan? O ipaglaban ang babaeng maaaring maging dahilan ng pagbagsak nito? Dahil minsan, ang pinakamapanganib na kalaban ng isang legacy… ay ang pag-ibig na hindi mo kayang talikuran.

A single job can make or ruin you. What will you do? Warning: 40% sex, 100% sin. This isn't sweet little love story. This is dark, filthy Mafia territory, where rules don’t exist, and neither does mercy. For mature minds only. Themes include: Ruthless dominance Dubious consent & brutal obsession Public sex, eyes watching Best friend betrayal Power games that leave you wet and wrecked If you came for flowers and happy endings, check it out. And if you're ready to get fucked against the wall by a Mafia king who’ll make you scream his name loud enough for his enemies to hear .... then sit down, keep your mouth open, and behave. Because once you enter his world, you don't walk out untouched. ***** “Here. Sign this and you can start immediately. If you have anything important at home, bring it here....I’ll provide you with everything. "Clothes, food, whatever you need,” he said, the smirk returning to his face. She reached for the file hesitantly, her eyes narrowing slightly. Something felt…off. Too quick. Too intense. Just as she was about to flip through the pages, her phone rang. Tring… Tring… She glanced at Liam. He nodded. “It’s okay.” She quickly signed the last page without reading. Inside, her instincts itched. Something didn’t sit right. But she brushed the feeling off. Maybe he was just one of those flirty, arrogant bosses. “You signed without reading it,” he said in a whisper only she could hear. “Bold.” “I trust Liam,” she replied. Vincenzo smiled, not the kind that made people feel safe. She handed the file back and turned to leave. Vincenzo stood silently, watching her go. The way her hair swayed. The curve of her waist. That innocent look in her eyes. As she disappeared around the corner.