Fully Booked Kinokuniya

I was married to Chad Caldwell for ten years. I met all his girlfriends during our marriage. Whenever he got bored and wanted to move on, I was his best excuse. "If you marry me, you'll end up like her. Too familiar and no spark left." On our anniversary, I wiped tears for his latest ex, a college girl, while he was at the movies with his new fling. She used up a pack of tissues, and I seemed to see my old self in her. Afterward, I asked Chad for a divorce. He was confused. "Why not wait a bit? Maybe I'll turn over a new leaf." I gave a faint smile but said nothing. Instead, I booked a plane ticket and flew across the ocean. If he wouldn't turn around, I'd take the first step.

My husband, Oliver Dawson, "forgot" everything in a car crash—and somehow fell for me all over again. After getting out of the hospital, he said he wanted to date me from scratch. Moved out, made it all romantic. People thought we were couple goals. I figured he just wanted that first-date spark back. Then I overheard him with his best friend. "The amnesia was a lie. I only moved out to take care of Katy. She's pregnant. Cecelia's never wanted kids. I'm not going childless." I glanced down at my barely-there bump and booked a hospital appointment. Then I found the memory-erasing pill Mom left me—and took it. Oliver had no clue I'd forget him in seven days. Completely.

When a ferocious storm tore through our town, Frank Turner risked his life to save me from being swept off our balcony's edge. Grateful, I finally said yes to his relentless marriage proposals. From then on, he treated me like royalty, fussing over every sniffle. To the world, he was the gold standard of devotion. But two years into our marriage, his warmth faded. When crippling stomach pain left me doubled over, he brushed it off, claiming work demanded his night. I went to find him, only to catch him in a steamed-up car with a girl, both stripped bare. My fairy-tale marriage shattered like glass. Turning around, I booked a flight and left the country. Frank tore the city apart looking for me, but it was too late.

After Jacob Locke brings up breaking up with me once again, I don't wait for him to say anything else. I pack up my things and move out on my own, then quietly cut ties with our past. On the first day, I cancel the wedding planner I booked three years ago but kept delaying. On the second day, I turn off the automatic payments for his mother's treatment. I also politely refuse his sister when she reaches out for money. On the third day, I accept my superior's transfer proposal and get ready to settle down in a southern city. The moment I board the plane, I suddenly get curious. Without me, the free housekeeper who hasn't taken a break in the past decade and the always-on ATM, how will Jacob fare? How will he care for his paralyzed mother, deal with his vain sister, and face his precious junior who's the apple of his eye?

He wanted to make her life a living hell. Wanted to take revenge for her betrayal. He fully controlled her life, what eat, what to wear, when and what to speak, where to go.

Innocent souls who had been caught up by the adults wrongdoings, greed and selfishness. A love that was put to an end before it fully bloomed due to misunderstanding. And a love that had remained even after years have passed. Love and second chances.

My son is severely allergic to pollen, and because of his rare blood type, he must receive a specific desensitization injection at a bigger hospital in a different state. To make that happen, I deliberately booked the same flight as my wife just so our son could get help as soon as possible. But she insists on waiting for her late-arriving first love, refusing to let the plane take off. When I confront her, she says, "All passengers are equal. If the plane can wait for you, why can't it wait for him? Cam still needs to celebrate Josie's birthday. It's just ten minutes. Nothing will happen!" However, by the time we arrive at the hospital, the doctor tells us we missed the critical window for treatment. We were just ten minutes too late. Our son has now become a vegetable.

I try seducing my fiance, Vernon Floyd, 999 times. But even when I'm shirtless, his only concern is whether I'm cold. I assume that Vernon is a traditional guy, who wants to do it until we're married. But on the day of our anniversary, I discover that he has secretly booked a hotel famous for couples' getaways in the city. That night, I arrive at the VIP suite full of hope. In the end, all I see is Vernon and his childhood sweetheart passionately kissing each other as the crowd cheers. I wait outside the VIP suite for a long time. Finally, I understand that he doesn't love me. After leaving the hotel, I call my family. "Dad, I don't want to marry Vernon anymore. I want to marry Dylan instead!" Dad spits out his coffee and says, "Avril, Mr. Walker got into a car accident a few years ago. I heard that he's impotent. If you marry him, you won't have any children!" By then, I am already disheartened. "It doesn't matter whether I have children or not."

My husband only married me for a family alliance, but his heart was always with his first love. To please her, he even threw her a grand wedding. He forced me to play the wedding march at their ceremony. When I hit a single wrong note, he stood by as she drove steel needles through my fingers. “Weren’t you so proud of being a pianist? Then I’ll take that away from you.” “This is my revenge for forcing me into this marriage!” Later, I got pregnant. However, Yaron Hayes, my husband, left for an extravagant trip abroad with Ellie Jensen. When he finally returned and saw my swollen belly, he immediately assumed I had cheated. He locked me in a closet, forcing me to endure a brutal childbirth alone—one that cost me my life. Yet when I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day the Hayes family arranged our marriage. This time, I let go of my foolish devotion. I booked a flight to study abroad in half a month. “The sky is vast, and birds are meant to be free. It's time for me to follow my own path.”

As I'm unable to get a ticket for my return trip after the Thanksgiving holiday, I specifically booked a first-class seat home. Just as I find my seat, I see an unruly child jumping around on it. I patiently smile and say, "Kid, this is my seat. Where is your seat?" He makes a face at me. "It's mine now, old hag!" I grab him by the collar of his shirt, wanting to lift him out of the seat. At that moment, a woman's piercing voice sounds behind me. "What are you doing? Let go of my son!" I release my grip and say as gently as possible, "Please control your child. This is my seat." Suddenly, she raises her voice. "He's just a child! Can't you, as an adult, give way to him? You're young and dressed decently. How can you have no compassion at all?" I'm so angered by this distorted reasoning that I laugh. "If you're so compassionate, why didn't you spend the money to buy your child a first-class seat?"