Fears To Fathom Real Story

The moment my best friend dashes into the lottery shop ahead of me and rattles off that familiar string of numbers, I know instantly that she has been reborn, too. In my past life, my best friend and I were shortlisted for an interview at a Global 500 company just before graduation. However, there was only one opening available. On the day of the interview, I had a sudden urge to buy a lottery ticket, but as a result, I missed the interview, and my best friend got the job. As it turned out, I won the jackpot, totaling 50 million dollars. After graduation, I lived a carefree life, lounging at home and living off the interest. Meanwhile, after entering the company, my best friend was paid little and got bullied every single day. Eventually, she vented her anger on me and shoved me off a rooftop. I died from the fall instantly. After my death, my boyfriend covered for her, twisting the story to claim that I'd gone mad from idling too long and jumped on my own. The two of them fed on my misfortune, becoming influencers with millions of fans and raking in fortune. When I open my eyes again, I am reborn to the very day I bought that lottery ticket.

On the day we receive our bonus, one of the staff members of the finance department gives me 500 dollars worth of vouchers for the fast food restaurant downstairs. He tells me that my wife, Jillian Dunn, who is also the company's president, specifically ordered him to do so. In utter disbelief, I seek out Jillian and question her. "Didn't we agree that whoever secures the project will get a 50,000-dollar bonus? Stop messing around! I still need to pay for Freya's cochlear implant!" "I'm not messing around with you," Jillian answers seriously. "These vouchers can last you for a whole month. I wouldn't even give them to you if you were anyone else. "Money is tight right now at the company. Besides, Freya has been deaf for more than a decade now. She can survive being deaf for another decade." The next day, Jillian gives one of the interns a sports car that's worth 50,000 dollars. I look at the photo she uploads of her and the intern grinning widely as they sit in the car and give it a like. Jillian must assume that everything is proceeding smoothly since she has signed the contract. However, she misses the additional condition that's printed on the last page of the contract. I dial her rival's number, asking, "Ms. Swan, are you interested in Project Charlie?"

In my previous life, everything I do to care for myself somehow ends up benefiting my new housekeeper instead. I apply expensive skincare, yet dark spots and fine lines spread across my face, whereas the 45-year-old housekeeper's face becomes silkier. I jog every morning, yet my body only grows heavier and bulkier, while hers becomes slender and toned. When my husband notices the stretch marks on my abdomen, his face twists with disgust, and he never touches me again. "I genuinely can't bring myself to touch you. How can you look worse than Mirabelle when you take such good care of yourself?" My housekeeper looks at me with a sinister smile. A chill crawls up my spine, and the strange feeling makes me fire her on the spot. Yet, as soon as she leaves, I start aging at lightning speed, entering menopause 20 years early and developing diabetes and high blood pressure. I see every doctor I can, but after hanging on for a week, I die from a stroke. When I open my eyes again, I'm back on the day she first reports to work. This time, I push away the royal jelly she sets in front of me with a pleasant smile. "I've been avoiding certain foods lately. You can have it instead."

For three years, I was the only one allowed inside my husband, Matthew Carter's, secret room on the top floor. Until that day—when I walked in and found his young assistant there. "Matthew asked me to get things ready for his dinner party," she said, all confidence and no shame. I smiled. It turned out this was what it felt like to have my privileges as his wife trampled on. Fine. If the rules of the game had changed, then I would show everyone who the real player was. One by one, I dismantled the Carter family's most prized projects. That was when Matthew finally panicked. He demanded, "Why? We're husband and wife!" "Exactly," I said, tossing the divorce papers onto his desk. "And that's why betrayal comes with a steeper price, doesn't it?"

I've been married to Elliot Graves, the mafia drug lord in NYC, for the past eight years. But today—on our wedding anniversary—I received a photo of him with my best friend, Lila, celebrating as if they were the ones married. And in her arms was my son, Owen. I stared at the image, then typed out two words in reply. “How perfect.” Half a hour later, Elliot stormed through the front door. His voice thundered through the hallway. “Why do you always have to be so bitchy to Lila?” Owen, my own little boy, shoved at my leg and glared. “Bad Momma,” he said. “I wish Miss Lila was my real mommy.” I didn’t flinch. I simply walked over to the drawer, pulled out the crisp stack of papers I’d long prepared, and dropped them on the table with a quiet finality. “Alright,” I said, my voice calm. “It’s all my fault. Now, can I go?”

My entire family could hear my thoughts. In my previous life, I was switched at birth with Victoria Harrington. I was reunited with my family 18 years later. It was the early 1920s, when owning a bicycle or a radio was still rare for most families. I had always dreamed of having one of those precious things. However, after I came home, Victoria would constantly brag right in front of me. "Mom told me that I'm the only one who deserves this fancy watch," she said with a sweet smile. "And look at this gorgeous bicycle Dad got me for my birthday! Oh, and when I mentioned wanting a radio, Daniel bought it for me immediately." Then came the real knife twist. "I know you're their biological daughter, Bernice, but let's be honest. When it comes to love, I'm their real daughter. Daniel definitely prefers me as his little sister too." Her words ate at me. I could not stop the bitter thoughts that flooded my mind about my parents and brother. The problem was that my family could hear every single one of those thoughts. Slowly, they began to resent me. Eventually, they threw me out into the cold, and I died alone in the winter streets while Victoria lived happily within the warmth of their love. When I opened my eyes again, I realized that I had been reborn. As I watched Victoria putting on her usual show, my thoughts took a delicious turn. 'Victoria thinks that Mom is such a cheapskate for only buying her a cheap watch instead of something expensive. She even calls Dad stingy behind his back because he didn't get her a pricier bicycle.' 'And she constantly complains about how ugly and crude Daniel is, saying that he embarrasses her. I wonder if I should share these thoughts with my family?'

I had personally trained Damiano Vestri and brought him up the ranks to become the mafia’s Don. The family’s inner circle accepted him, and he was loyal only to me. Whenever bullets went flying, he would always shield me and take many of them for me. The night before our wedding, I waited for his return, but what I got was news of his death. A week later, I received an email with a pregnancy report and a photo. The photo showed Damiano caressing another woman’s belly. It turned out he had faked his death so that he could be with his first love. The due date for her pregnancy was approaching. I scoffed and clicked the safety off on my gun. If he wanted to fake his death, I would help him turn it into a real one.

What happens when your life is just a lie? What happens when you finally find out that none of what you believe to be real is real? What if you met someone who made you question everything? And what happens when your life is nothing but a fiction carved by Mr. Fiction himself? "The truth is rarely pure and never simple." — Oscar Wilde. Disclaimer: this story touches on depression, losing someone, and facing reality instead of taking the easy way out. ( ( ( part of TBNB Series, this is the story of Clarabelle Summers's writers ))

I turned out not to be the biological daughter of a wealthy family. In my previous life, I had believed my best friend Vicky’s words and had stormed out on the day the real daughter, Lydia, returned. I never expected my biological father to fall ill with a chronic ailment that drained every bit of the family’s savings. I had nowhere to turn, and I worked day and night until I collapsed while delivering food in the middle of the night. Vicky became close to Lydia, and she used the chance to approach Peter, her brother, so that she could marry into a wealthy family. When I opened my eyes again, I returned to the day I had run away. My foster parents looked at me with worry, and Peter stood with his arms crossed. “You know your biological parents are so broke they can’t even afford food, so are you sure you want to go back and suffer?” In my previous life, they had pleaded with me, and all I had in my head had been Vicky’s manipulation. I had thrown out the words, “I don’t need your filthy money,” and walked away. I set my suitcase down without hesitation this time. I would never leave before I saved enough money.

The first thing I do after being reborn is dump my devoted boyfriend and immediately say yes to the obsessive man's pursuit. In my past life, my so-called best friend, Sarah Cole, bound herself to an app that could transfer all of my boyfriend's love for me to her. My boyfriend was Luke Spencer. The golden roses he prepared for me ended up with her. The hotel he bought for me suddenly had her name on the deed. The way he looked at me shifted from fierce desire to cold disdain, but when he turned to her, his eyes overflowed with the tenderness I once knew so well. When I cried and demanded to know why Luke had changed, he just looked at me with disgust as he spat, "We broke up a long time ago. Leave my girlfriend alone!" On my birthday, Sarah went live online, flaunting how Luke had rented out the entire amusement park for her. Fireworks lit up the sky behind her in a blaze of color. And me? They worked together to have me thrown into a mental hospital. They called me a crazy woman obsessed with someone who never loved me back, and in endless rounds of electroshock therapy and forced medication, I died in despair. When I open my eyes again, I'm reborn. This time, I no longer feel anything real for my ex-boyfriend. Instead, I play along with Ethan Grant. I find it funny when Sarah opens the app again, siphoning away every drop of Ethan's overwhelming love. I really want to know if she can handle it.