Feel Special Artinya

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.

I'm a member of a top-secret research unit. As per my superior's request, I am to deliver a file to Celeste Judd, my older sister. The moment I step into my sister's office, an intern, Ethan Irwin, quickly moves to stand in my way. "Are you the new assistant?" He eyes me up and down, finally noticing the document envelope in my hand. Then, he chortles loudly. "It's your first day on the job, and yet you're already trying to suck up to Ms. Judd! Why don't you take a look in the mirror and see how pathetic you are?" Only then do I realize that Ethan has mistaken me as a love rival. But the thing is, Celeste has never told me that she has a boyfriend. I'm about to explain the truth to Ethan when I feel his fist colliding with my face. "I'm the only assistant Ms. Judd needs! You can forget about being her boyfriend!" Ethan yanks me by the hair as he dumps scalding hot water onto my face. "To think that you're already planning on becoming a sugar baby and seducing rich women at such a young age! I'll teach you a lesson on behalf of your parents!" I can only curl into a small ball on the floor. Stubbornly, I use my body to protect the document envelope. My actions infuriate Ethan to no end. He snatches the file away before ripping it into pieces in front of the entire company. He even says fawningly to Celeste, "Ms. Judd, your new assistant sure is a bold one for trying to seduce you! But don't worry, for I've already taught him a lesson!"

Under my parents' request, I work as the finance officer in my childhood friend, Julius Sanford's company. But the moment he goes on a business trip, the new intern, Lizzie Dalton, rushes into my office and demands that I process her reimbursements. As I stare at the pile of receipts that come from luxury stores, all I feel is shock. "Lizzie, I can only use the company's funds to reimburse business expenses. Why are you asking me for reimbursements when all you did was buy clothes and bags of your own?" But as soon as my words fall, Lizzie splashes a cup of coffee at me instantly. "I'm the lady boss of this company! The company's funds are my funds too! Don't think you can just reject my receipts just because you know my husband!" I do my best to suppress my fury as I dig out the company's policy and reiterate, "No, I seriously cannot do that. The company's cash flow must be reflected in the books." Seeing as I refuse to yield to her no matter what, Lizzie calls Julius on the phone and begins whining to him. "Babe, since when do I need to ask your childhood friend for approval if I want to buy something I like for myself? Or could it be that she's acting so assertively because you two are secretly having an affair?" Julius panics and tells Lizzie that he has nothing to do with me. After that, he quickly releases an announcement on the company group just so he can defend Lizzie. "Lizzie Dalton is my wife! She's the second boss of this company other than me!" After that, Julius tags me in the group. "Hey, finance! You're not my mom here! I don't like you, so please stay out of my private matters! "I'd like nothing more than to let my own wife spend my own money! If you don't like that, you can pack up and leave!" Once Julius makes his stance clear, I change my tune and reimburse Lizzie the expenses she's claimed. But one week later, Julius finds himself staring at the list of debts that's 33 feet long when he returns from his business trip.

The moment my roommate walked in, she used my locker. She claimed to have too many things and nowhere else to put them. I rolled my eyes. Why should I let her get her way? I was not her parent. She was no princess, but she acted like one. I was ready to argue, but she tossed 200,000 dollars at me. “At your service, Your Highness!”

I did three years in prison for my wife, Lilian Parson. The day I got out, she handed me an envelope for her company's grand opening. Inside was a single dollar bill. For a second, I thought it was a mistake. Then I saw her colleague, Nathan Ramsey, holding his envelope—his also contained a single dollar. Relieved, I pushed my doubts aside. I smiled, stood by Lilian's side through the entire ceremony, the picture of a proud, supportive husband. That night, scrolling through Instagram, I saw Nathan's latest post. A photo of a check. [Congratulations to Lilian Parson on the grand opening! So generous—100 million as a gift!] The comments section exploded with envy and blessings, congratulating him and "the boss" on finally becoming a couple. Lilian offered no explanation. Instead, she hurried to draw a line between us. "You just got out of prison," she said coolly. "It's not a good look to go public right now. Let's keep our marriage a secret. In front of others, just call me your boss." Then she turned around and liked Nathan's post. I wiped the tears from my eyes, picked up my phone, and dialed the number of her greatest rival. "From now on, I work for you," I said.

The project I had poured my heart and soul into earned the company over a hundred million in profit, yet the credit was handed to the vice president's nephew. I stood in a corner, the stack of source code documents trembling in my hands, nearly crushed by my grip. That nephew—who couldn't even get Hello World to compile—was now on stage, smiling brightly as he accepted the award. The vice president came over and draped an arm around my shoulder like we were old friends. "You're just an outsourced worker," he said casually. "These honors wouldn't mean anything to you anyway. Jason is new. He's got limitless potential. From now on, you'll be responsible for mentoring him properly." Only then did I realize that decades of struggle had been nothing more than laying out a red carpet for someone else's glory. That very night, while reviewing the project's code repository, I discovered a massive flaw—one serious enough to bring the entire system crashing down within three days.

At the year-end company meeting, I was announcing the bonuses when a new employee suddenly raised her hand. "Over at the other company, they handed out two boxes of imported cherries at their annual party," she said, shaking her phone. "And we only get performance bonuses?" The video, maliciously edited, went viral online and hit the trending list the very next day. I had the finance department cancel all the year-end bonus transfers. "If cherries are what really count as a gesture of goodwill," I said, "then this year's year-end benefit will be cherries—fifty boxes per person." When they saw the mountain of cherries piling up before them, the employees who had once joined in mocking me panicked instantly. One by one, they cried and apologized, begging me to reconsider.

My mom, Gina Lowry, uses the six million dollars from selling our family hotel to buy my cousin, Harry Sullivan, a villa. The next day, my fiancé of five years, Charles Gomez, dumps me. "Vivian, this is the end for us," Charles says, sitting in the café of a five-star hotel. His tone is so matter-of-fact that it sounds as if he's merely discussing a business deal. The engagement ring in my hand suddenly feels burning hot. I ask, "Why? Our wedding is next month." He stirs his coffee casually and replies, "Your family is known for favoring sons above all else. I looked into it. Your parents sold off the family business and gave all the assets to your cousin, Harry." A chill runs through my whole body as I argue, "That was my parents' decision. It has nothing to do with me!" "Does it really have nothing to do with you?" Charles looks up, his gaze sharp. "You're a daughter of the Sullivan family. In the future, you'll have to keep supporting your useless cousin endlessly. My family won't have any part in such an unreasonable practice. It's simply too embarrassing." In a trembling voice, I plead, "Charles, we've been together for five years. Is what we have less than these worldly considerations?" He lets out a light scoff. "What we have? Vivian, you're 28. How are you still this naive? In our circle, marriage is never just about two people." He stands up and adjusts the cuff of his custom suit. "I hope you find someone more suitable for you." I watch his resolute back as he walks away. Biting my lip hard, I refuse to let the tears fall. My phone chimes as a message from my mom comes in. In the photo, Harry is standing in front of a luxury villa with his arm around the influencer girlfriend he's been dating for three months. He is smiling smugly, like he's at the top of the world. Mom sounds overjoyed in her voice message. "Vivian, look how grand Harry's new home is! Now, he won't have to worry about his marital home when he gets married!" I stare at the photo and laugh through my tears. The moment I leave the family group chat and block all my relatives, my fingertips feel ice-cold. I sneer inwardly, "Since a daughter can never compare to a son in your hearts, then from now on, that precious nephew of yours will be your only family. When he drives you out of the villa bought with your entire savings, I wonder if you'll remember the daughter you abandoned today."

My three-year-old daughter was playing in the room, and she suddenly fell from the window of the room and died. In my past life, I held her lifeless body after learning the news, crying so hard I thought I would never stop. But when my husband rushed back, he slapped me across the face without a second thought. "How could you be so cruel? You actually threw her out of the window—she was only three!" I was too stunned to react. Later, my husband and my best friend teamed up and testified that I had thrown my daughter from the window because I had an argument with my husband. I was cyberbullied and labeled the "evil mom". Amid the public hatred and the pain of losing my daughter, I jumped to prove my innocence. Even in death, I still didn't understand. My daughter had been fine playing in the room—how did she fall out of the window? When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day she fell.

On the fifth year of their marriage, finding the vitamin C her husband bought tasted too bitter, Jeanne Dotson went to the hospital with the bottle. The doctor took one look and frowned. "This isn't vitamin C." "I-I'm sorry, Doctor?" "I could say it a dozen times and it'd still be the same," the doctor replied, pointing at the bottle. "This is Mifepristone. Taking too much of it doesn't just cause infertility—it can do serious harm to your body." Jeanne felt a lump stuck in her throat, and her fingers turned pale from clenching the bottle. "That's impossible. My husband got this for me. His name is Darren Walsh—he's a doctor here too." The doctor looked up at her, his expression turning strange, tinged with something she couldn't quite read. After a pause, he gave a small smile. "Miss, you might want to visit the psych ward instead. We all know Dr. Walsh's wife—she gave birth just two months ago. Don't let your imagination run wild, all right? There's no point."