Good At Goodbye

Dad attends a banquet with his ex-girlfriend, and they make headlines. Everyone mocks Mom for this, saying that she hasn't gotten anything out of her relationship with Dad. They make fun of her for giving up her successful career for his sake to end up with nothing—she can't even tell a homewrecker off. Mom looks at me tiredly after bawling her eyes out. "He let me down first, so I don't want him anymore. Do you want to leave with me, Rosie?" Just then, my phone pings. I've received a text from my boyfriend of seven years. "I'm just going through the motions and registering my marriage with someone else, Rosalie. You'll still be my girlfriend!" After a brief silence, I nod and tell Mom I'll leave with her. On the day of the double weddings, Mom and I disappear after a fire at our villa.

It was our seventh anniversary. Christopher Quinton proposed to me with nothing but a ring pull. He got his true love a house. When I said no, he rebuked me like I was some sort of gold digger. "I thought my love for you was worth more than anything money could buy. I only got Rachel that house to pay her back for all she did for me. I can't believe you thought I still loved her. You disappoint me." I broke up with him and tossed the ring pull into the bin. Then, I walked off. The next day, Christopher took away my position as VP and told everyone he was getting engaged to Rachel. … Five years later, we ran into each other at a charity horserace. He was a successful businessman, and the woman beside him was Rachel, all dressed in custom-made clothes. I was dressed in janitor attire and stuffing plastic bottles into my woven bag. He mocked, "Look at you, Queenie Dean. Scavenging for a living. Bet you didn't see this coming when you ditched me, did you?" I ignored him. My son had run off, and I had to look for him. The boy noticed the plastic bottles that were strewn across the ground, and he insisted that we stay back to finish his social practice activity here.

My sister and I were both blessed with naturally fertile bodies. My sister married a poor farmer in our village and gave birth to five sons. Their family thrived and escaped poverty. I married the wealthy ranch foreman, but only had daughters. My husband resented me for embarrassing him and beat me and our girls to death. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day the matchmaker came. I watched coldly as the ranch foreman unexpectedly chose my sister with the limp, and I realized he had also been reborn. He thought marrying my sister would guarantee him sons, unaware that he had a genetic condition preventing him from having boys. I pointed to the quiet, thin educated youth in the corner and declared: "I will marry him!"

My boyfriend's childhood sweetheart bound herself to a transfer system: everything she ate would be redirected straight into my stomach. She opened a streaming account and broadcast herself eating for twelve hours straight. She earned a fortune. Meanwhile, I collapsed with acute pancreatitis and was rushed to the hospital. When I explained the situation to my boyfriend, he only stared at me like I was insane. "How could something that absurd exist? If food could really be transferred, no one in the world would ever starve. You're just jealous that she's making money from streaming." After that, every time his childhood sweetheart went live, I ended up hospitalized again. I kept hovering between life and death. I sought medical help, but the doctors couldn't explain my condition. Some even wanted to commit me to a psychiatric ward. Then, one day, in order to outdo her rivals in a PK match, she devoured ten pounds of rice in a single sitting. At that very moment, my spleen and stomach ruptured, and I bled to death on the spot. When I opened my eyes again, I had returned to the day of her very first livestream. This time, I was prepared. I rushed out and bought twenty takeout meals. "This time," I said, "I'll eat first."

My husband, Frank Myer, ruined himself by taking random medication and coming to me for treatment. I simply sneered at him and deliberately stalled for time, letting him end up disabled for life! In my previous life, my husband had purposely ruined himself to help his childhood sweetheart, Karen White, get promoted. I anxiously asked if he had taken anything harmful, but he swore he had not. When I asked him to do a full checkup, he accused me of having no ethics and claimed that I would even scam my own husband for a promotion. His childhood sweetheart insisted on a conservative treatment instead. I kicked out his unqualified sweetheart and performed the surgery myself. It was a total success, but she made a huge scene about it after feeling humiliated by being thrown out. She even threatened suicide. My husband was furious and lied that the surgery had failed, even reporting me for forcing him into surgery against medical advice, getting me blacklisted from the medical field. His sweetheart, however, simply dabbed some disinfectant on him, and he announced that she had cured him, instantly making her famous and earning her a promotion. When I confronted him, my husband said that if it weren't for me, he wouldn't have had to go to such lengths for her, and that I am the reason he was suffering. Then, he suffocated me with a pillow. But when I opened my eyes again, I was back to the very day he ruined himself.

It was not until my death that I realized my husband would not touch me because he was deeply in love with my best friend. The two spent their entire lives longing for each other, but never crossing the line, staying loyal from afar. Even my best friend's professor husband lived his life like a celibate monk. After being reborn, I seized the moment and held the professor's hand. "I like you. Let's be together." His eyes darkened as he replied, "Perfect. I feel the same." We instantly connected. However, this time, it was my husband and best friend who were not happy about it.

At the parent-teacher conference, Emery Carey's essay, My CEO Mom, won first place, earning thunderous applause from the class. But the mood soured when my daughter ran to me in tears, her cheeks marked with red handprints. "Emery hit me again. He said I don't belong in his class and spat in my face." I scooped her up and marched to the teacher to demand answers. The teacher brushed it off. "It's just kids' horseplay. Don't blow it out of proportion. Emery's mother is the CEO of Mills Group. Get the picture and pull your kid out. Don't affect the mood." I froze, shocked by the absurdity. Then I dialed my lawyer. "Prepare the divorce agreement. Olivia is leaving with nothing." She'd been using my money to fund her lover and his son. That betrayal would not go unpunished.

The night before the bond ceremony, the moonlight was like silver, sprinkling over the altar of the werewolf tribe. The Moon Goddess chose Jonah's white moonlight, Emma, and assigned her to William, the tyrannical alpha of the werewolf tribe.His blood flows with the power of the ancient wolf king, but also with untamed wildness. Rumor has it that every woman who spends the night with William will be covered in bruises the next day. William’s desire is intertwined with his wolf nature, and the silver bed is his unique symbol. Silver is poison and a test for werewolves. William would let those women lie on the cold silver bed, watching their pain of being eroded by silver and the joy of desire intertwined, making painful moans and confused gasps. This contradictory torture is the catalyst for his wild desire. Jonah knows William's cruelty well, and he can't bear Emma to be the next victim. So, under the protection of the moonlight, he kidnapped Emma one step ahead and completed the marking ceremony with her under the witness of the Moon Goddess. And I, the woman abandoned by Jonah. The vows I made turned to ashes under the moonlight, and my name became a laughingstock in the tribe. In the evening, the setting sun was like blood, and William's figure appeared in front of my tent. His golden pupils flickered in the twilight with the aggression of a beast. His voice was low and threatening: "Since Jonah has robbed my partner, you can be my Luna: how about it?" Luna, the partner of the alpha in the werewolf tribe, symbolizes power and glory, but also means endless bondage and danger. I raised my head, looked directly into his eyes, and a sneer appeared at the corner of my mouth: "Okay."

Tinatawag ako ng kapatid kong lalaki bilang kanyang prinsesa at nagpapadala sa’kin ng perang pangbaon; nagkakamali ng intindi ang kanyang mapapangasawa at iniisip nito na lihim niya akong nobya. Susugurin ng babae ang tirahan ko, na maayos kong pinalamutian, kasama ang grupo ng mga kamag-anak at kaibigan. “Hindi ako makapaniwalang lihim na nobya ka ng iba’t ngayong napakabata mo pa! Tuturuan kita ng leksyon sa ngalan ng mga magulang mo! Ikakalat ko online ang imoral ninyong relasyon para malaman ng mga guro at kaklase mo kung gaano ka kawalang-hiya!” Kinalat nila ang tirahan ko at pinunit ang mga damit ko. Pagkatapos, sinigurado nilang nakunan ang ID ko sa eksena habang nire-record nila ang pang-aapi sa akin. Nagmamadaling pumunta ang kapatid kong lalaki, namumula sa galit ang kanyang mga mata. “Nasiraan na ba kayo ng bait? Ang lakas ng loob ninyong apihin ang kapatid ko!”

When I'm eight months pregnant, my husband, Levi West, becomes a donor to help his ex-girlfriend get pregnant. He even brings her and their illegitimate child home, wanting me to serve them. I refuse, and he calls me inhumane. "Audie's lost her husband—what's so bad about her wanting to have a child? You're a woman, too! How can you be so cruel?" I leave the house in anger, but Levi doesn't care. "Where can a country girl like you go when you're so heavily pregnant? You're going to come back and beg me to take you in again!" I head to the hospital to get an abortion. Then, I return to the countryside and rear pigs with my grandmother. Later, when Levi sees my flat belly and asks to see our child, I throw a handful of ashes in his face. "There you go. It's all there."