Good Morning Mahal Ko Message

My parents and my younger sister, Mable Munroe, are diagnosed with severe illnesses one after another. As I stare at the astronomical sum of medical bills, I can only grit my teeth and deal with them by taking on ten part-time jobs in one go. After stirring awake from collapse caused by exhaustion, I realize that I can hear the thoughts of everyone around me. My mom, who's too busy coughing up blood, has something else going on in her mind. "This low-quality fake blood really is disgusting! Why isn't that stupid brat giving us her salary of the day? I need the money to buy new bags!" My dad, who's already crippled from his disease, thinks, "I'm about to get cramps from all the cripple-faking I have to do! Once Talia clears my debt, I'm going to get myself a nice proper massage for a few days straight!" Meanwhile, the weakened Mable has already cooked up a plot in her mind. "Hurry up and tell that broke boyfriend of mine to stay awake from me! I want Talia to break up with him on my behalf! That way, I'll be able to reel in my next boyfriend without any guilt!" As I stare at my family, I choose to not expose their lies. Instead, I retrieve all the money that I've planned on paying their "medical bills" with. Later on, I track down Mable's boyfriend, Kyle Hargrove. There, I can hear his thoughts echoing loudly in my mind. "Did Mable get her sister to send the message that she wants to dump me? I'll have her know that I'm the only son of the richest man in town! Mable and that family of hers shall live in regret for the rest of their lives!" A bold thought pops into my mind all of a sudden. I twist my ankle on the spot and use the opportunity to collapse right into Kyle's arms.

When I visit my girlfriend's house during the Christmas holidays, her cousin, Antonio Esposito, humiliates me in front of everyone because of a scar on the back of my hand. "This scar looks like a remnant of the crossfire with the mafia! Bianca, why did you think that bringing an ex-convict home was a good idea?" The entire Romano family stares at me in a mixture of horror and shock. My girlfriend, Bianco Romano, even shakes my hand off while staring at me in disgust. Not only does Antonio flip the table, but he also calls over a few hooligans in an attempt to take me to the local police station. "We must teach scumbags like him a lesson!" he declares. After that, Antonio and the hooligans strip off my jacket and strap me to the tree in the courtyard. They then attempt to force me to admit that I'm working for the mafia. I can only gnash my teeth together stubbornly, refusing to yield no matter what. What they don't know is that the scar is a medal from my time in a peacekeeping war as a soldier!

I have just secured a massive ten-million-dollar deal during the Black Friday Sales. I have endured several days of hectic work, yet I still find myself unable to turn down my girlfriend, Charlotte Ward. We spend the night in passionate abandon and finally fall into a heavy, restful sleep. The next morning, a loud thud jolts me awake. When I open my eyes, I realize that it's my luggage. Charlotte suddenly says, "This is the end for us, Robert. It's time for you to move out. I've already wired the money for your past services, along with your salary. So get going." I find myself caught in a daze and about to move to question her, but she stops me dead, jabbing her fingers into my chest. "Know your place, Robert. You're nothing but a gigolo to me. I might, maybe, let you keep your job in Ward Group if you beg." I almost reach out to grab her wrist but stop myself. Instead, I smile broadly and say, "You've got it all wrong. Your company wouldn't survive without me, Charlotte."

A week before our wedding, my fiancee, Lauren Blair, went to the hospital for a prenatal checkup. She was accompanied by her newly hired assistant, Ian Kane. Coincidentally, she ended up being assigned to my clinic. I stood there holding Lauren’s pregnancy report in my hand, staring through the narrow gap in the door at the two of them outside. Ian pulled her into his arms by the waist, confessing with aching tenderness, "Lauren, I love you." "I love you too, Ian. I'm only married to Sam because of the circumstances I’m stuck in, but you've always been the one who holds my heart." I stopped hesitating. I pulled out my phone and sent a message to my father. "Dad, I accept the marriage alliance with Ms. Sheridan. The wedding date can remain. Just change the bride."

My husband and I take leave from work to travel to Highland. It's also an opportunity for me to return to my hometown. Unexpectedly, we get into a fight over the itinerary on our first day there. I snap at him when we're standing by the side of the road, but he calms me down. He even coaxes me and offers to pay for a nice meal at a restaurant. When I return to the hotel, I discover that he's run off with my luggage and mobile phone. He even leaves a message telling me to reflect on my mistakes. I borrow a phone to call him, but he doesn't answer. It's freezing in Highland. I'm almost about to die from the frost when I suddenly see sense. I'm not putting up with this anymore!

I secretly ordered a delivery of a thousand roses for my wife's birthday, hoping to surprise her. After the delivery was completed, I got a message from the delivery guy. [By the way, I tossed the trash by your door on my way out. Didn't expect you to be so kinky. Good for you, man!] He even sent me a photo. In the picture was an open trash bag stuffed with shredded pantyhose. My mind went completely blank. I was overseas on a business trip. My wife was the only one at home.

I worked at a sales job and felt pretty good about my work. Then, Vivian appeared. She was a new intern with an insatiable curiosity for others’ private affairs. On Valentine’s Day, my husband, Henry Ambrose, bought a million dollars’ worth of bags from me to help me meet my sales target. Just as I left work to meet him for a date, Vivian sent a snide message. [Your Fitbit just logged an extra thousand steps. That’s literally the exact distance to the hotel next door. Nice work, Lily! You close a million-dollar deal and immediately head to the hotel with the client?] I coldly fired back, [If you’re this desperate to stalk people, you should’ve just joined the K-9 unit.] That very night, parcels of adult toys appeared on my doorstep. Vivian had written a nasty post that had gone viral, and things turned out like this! [This Salesgirl Slept With My Client and Stole My Million-Dollar Commission on Valentine’s Day!] A pair of my ripped silk stockings, which I had tossed in the trash, became her “proof” that I had seduced a client during work hours. Vivian was painted as the victim, while I was viciously smeared as a “salesgirl who slept with clients for commissions.” What Vivian did not know was that Henry was actually a leading researcher worth billions. I only took the sales job because I was bored and wanted to experience something new.

The first thing I do after getting off the plane is to text my wife, Ella Spencer, that I'm safe and sound. Since I'm too eager to send the text, I end up sending the text to my work group chat. Before I can delete the message, the new HR employee, Dexter Brooks, suddenly calls me on the phone. "You're fired." I question him immediately, "All I did was text the wrong group chat! How does that warrant a dismissal?" Dexter shouts at me immediately, "How dare you send such lovey-dovey messages on the company's group chat! I will not tolerate this behavior in my company!" His statement catches me off guard. "Your company?" Dexter's arrogance kicks up a few notches. "What, are you saying that this is your company? Ms. Spencer is my wife! Her company is naturally mine!" After a moment's silence, I send another text to the work group chat. "Ella Spencer, you must be feeling quite smug now, huh? Not only did you claim that the company is yours, but you also switched your own husband out for someone else."

Since it's already the end of the year, the music app I use produces a report on the songs I've listened to in 2025. The keyword of my report is "resonance". Over the year, I don't spend much time listening to the songs on this app. My girlfriend, Sienna Fletcher, is the one who's been using my account this whole time. There's a row beneath the keyword that's written in a tiny font. "You had listened to this song with someone at 4:00 am on December 1st. It turns out that love can go beyond a night's sleep." My breath gets hitched in my throat. December 1st is my birthday. But that night, I had gone to bed at an early hour. Meanwhile, Sienna had left hurriedly after cutting my birthday cake with me with the excuse that she needed to pull an overnight shift at the company. For some reason, I tap onto the unfamiliar-looking profile that has been interacting frequently with my account with a trembling finger. Their keyword of the year is "favor". My heart skips a beat at the sight. Then, I tap on the details. "Over the year, you've listened to songs with this user 688 times in the middle of the night. Every time you do, it's a secretive conversation meant for your souls." The next thing I know, I receive a message from Sienna. "Babe, I need to work overtime tonight again. You don't have to wait up for me. Just go to bed early." At the same time, a new post is uploaded on the unfamiliar profile. It features a photo of two hands that are intertwined together. "I love working overtime with her the most. I want to listen to songs with her forever."

At the dinner table, my mother-in-law slid a contract across to me, right in front of more than 20 relatives. "Just sign it," she said lightly. "Consider it a favor to me." I looked down. A home mortgage agreement for 150,000 dollars. Across from me, my husband's younger brother, Jim Canfield, watched with a grin. Beside him, my husband's eldest sister, Cindy Canfield, urged impatiently, saying, "Shirley, what are you waiting for? Just sign it." I said I needed to go home and talk it over with Howard Canfield first. My mother-in-law's expression darkened. "What? You can't even make this decision for your own marriage?" That night, I did not sign anything. Later, she sent a three-minute voice message in the family group chat, accusing me of being childish, ungrateful, and heartless. More than 70 replies followed—not a single one in my defense. A month later, I came home from work to find three men waiting at my door, there to seize the house. I pulled out my phone and checked the property registry. The record was clear. [Mortgaged. 150,000 dollars.]