God Of Time

When my husband Joshua dragged his student Linda Moore into our apartment, I didn't even blink—I gave up the bed. Last time, it'd been pouring when he showed up with her in the middle of the night. Told me to crash on the floor with my daughter Mia and gave Linda the bed like it was nothing. I lost it. Fought with him, snapped at her. She bolted, slipped into a ditch, and supposedly drowned. Joshua said nothing. Then, one night, with the storm going wild outside, he pried open a manhole and dumped me and Mia in like trash. "Linda's my mentor's daughter. She's dead—how am I supposed to face him? You two can apologize yourselves." We didn't even get to scream before that freezing, disgusting water swallowed us whole. Turns out, Linda faked the whole thing. Just a twisted joke to punish me. Joshua moved her in right after, like nothing happened. Now, thunder cracked again as the door opened—and there he was, Linda right behind him.

After being missing for 18 years, Mom and Dad finally found me. Jillian Swain, the fake heiress, crumples to the floor and starts sobbing. "Goodbye, Mom and Dad. Thanks for taking care of me all these years. But now that Wanda is home, I'm sure you don't have any use for me anymore." Mom and Dad hug her, completely heartbroken. "Sweetheart, don't talk like that! You're our only real daughter, now and always!" Even Harvey Schumer, the guy I was promised to as a kid, declares his love for her. "Forget who you really are. You're the only one I love." They're all tripping over each other to fuss over Jillian. They even throw a birthday celebration for her dog while I'm barely hanging on after a car crash. So I pack up my things, accept the space agency's offer, and slip away into a five-year confidential satellite research project. But the whole family freaks out the second I'm gone, turning the country upside down, searching for me.

The night I confessed my love to my girlfriend, she wept so hard she could barely breathe. She said she had seen the future, and she wanted to make a promise with me. I asked her why. She only shook her head and said, "I don't remember… all I know is that in the future I regret something terribly. Frank, no matter what happens, you must give me three chances. Will you?" I was deeply in love with Agnes Grey, so I agreed without hesitation. But later, it was as if she had forgotten all about that night—forgotten it when she clung so intimately to her male assistant. Only then did I understand why she'd made me promise that all those years ago. Because the moment I signed my name on the divorce papers, I heard a familiar voice. It was Agnes at nineteen. Through her sobs, she pleaded, "Frank… you promised me, didn't you? You said you'd give me three chances."

Three years into my arranged marriage with the Valachi family heir, the one that got away came back. He left me for Julia eight times. The ninth time, he left me bleeding on the side of the road with a gunshot wound to go running to Julia, who’d called him because she felt a little dizzy. "She needs me. You get that, right, Leona?" This time, I didn't fight for him. He didn't know about the bet I’d made with Julia. The ninth time he abandoned me, I would be the one to leave for good. So on his birthday, I left a set of signed divorce papers on his desk and got on a plane.

"Going back to heal and be gone." I thought the flow of my story will be the same in the future, just like how I am living with my life now, a normal living. Lahat ng iyon ay nagbago, when the future me came! Just what exactly happened to my future why she came here hurting and wanted me to change OUR future?

Lucy an office assistant is in a secret relationship with a boss. The boss is engaged to someone else but Lucy is pushing her way to the boss's heart and they found each other in a sticky situation.

I wasn’t even pregnant, yet I ended up popping abortion pills like they were candy. It was all because in my past life, the moment my widowed sister-in-law got pregnant, every single side effect of her pregnancy became mine. She strutted around happily with her big belly, consuming spicy tamales, while I was rushed to the hospital for violent nausea and stomach pain; she showed off her flawless skin in crop tops every day, while my stomach broke out in hideous stretch marks. When I told my husband what was happening, he just shoved me away impatiently. “Enough with the jealousy! My brother’s dead, and she’s carrying his only child. Of course, I should look out for her. Do you really have to put on such an act?” After that, my sister-in-law went even further. She kept testing her limits during pregnancy and even ate a mango she was allergic to. And me? I went into anaphylactic shock, landed in the hospital, and nearly died. Doctors couldn’t explain it. They just brushed it off, saying I was overly jealous and it was all psychological. Later, my sister-in-law tried to brand herself as a “hot single mom”. She went live, belly and all, to show off her weight-loss workouts. She jumped around for three straight hours. And me? My uterus literally gave out, and I hemorrhaged to death. When I opened my eyes again, it was the exact day she first announced her pregnancy.

Charles Jansen's true love returns to the country in my seventh year with him. The first post on her social media after she lands is an intimate photo of them together. She captions it, "I'm glad we've come full circle." Only then do I find out the ring hidden in the living room isn't for me. Charles' proposal isn't for me, either. Suddenly, I feel exhausted.

My husband promises to go to my hometown with me for the New Year holidays this year after I go to his. But before the trip to my hometown is due, he suddenly tells me he doesn't want to go anymore. I argue with him about this, and he pummels me with a bat. Meanwhile, his family eggs him on, telling him to kill me. Intense pain shoots through me as the blows land. I try my best to fight back, but I can't win against the majority. As the sky darkens, everyone heads home for dinner after giving me a good beating. When I regain consciousness in a corner of the garden, I see sense.

I made a deal with Sonia Quindt—the billionaire CEO. After I'd proposed to her ninety-nine freaking times, she swore she'd finally show up for the hundredth. Spoiler: she didn't. She was out there at some concert with her boy toy. And, of course, someone caught them on livestream. Big kiss. Big viral moment. Meanwhile, my face was plastered all over the internet too—lonely guy number one, waiting for a bride who never existed. Everyone online started making bets. Who was the mystery woman? How long until I came crawling back for the hundred-and-first proposal? Sonia, apparently struck by some last-minute guilt, promised she'd make it right next time. Said she'd actually show up. And she did. Wedding dress. Perfect makeup. Cameras ready. She got a text from me: [Sonia, there won't be a hundred-and-first proposal. We're done.]