Hills Like White Elephants Story

My mother-in-law was obsessed with picking mushrooms. She said mushroom stew with chicken was incredibly nourishing. She often made it to boost my husband’s health. However, she never let me have any, not even a sip of the broth. Every time, she came up with some excuse to send me out on an errand. If I refused, my husband’s fists and kicks reminded me to obey. So, this time, I obediently went out like always. Even though I just had a miscarriage five days ago and the sun outside was scorching, I had to go.

Oh ... Yes ... Like that ... You are the best ... They were at it again. Ever since that young man had moved in next door, these sounds had frequently invaded my room. It wasn't just that they were so loud, it was that once they began, they were sure to keep me up for half the night. I hammered on the wall, hoping they would quieten down. If anything, the noises only got louder. I could feel myself getting angry. I was on the warpath. I stormed outside and hammered on his door. But I was not prepared for what I saw once it opened. I shouldn't be privy to this, I thought. After witnessing this, how can I be allowed to live?

She's his flower, But also his rain. She's the beauty in his day, But also his night full of pain. - "When Noah looks at you, it's like he's been living in a black and white universe and he just saw colours for the first time. These past weeks not being able to talk to you, all the colour in his life just went away and it's back to black and white and all he's been trying to do is remember what life was like before he knew what colour was."

The housekeeper became my stepmother, and together with her son, they humiliated and murdered me. After being reborn, I exposed a video of her affair with her lover at her wedding, destroying her reputation completely. I watched as she and her son were kicked out. They left with nothing, wandering the streets like outcasts. I smiled and tossed a moldy piece of bread into their begging bowl. “This is all you deserve.”

It's my husband, Niall Luther's birthday. I take my son to the hospital to visit Niall since he's working late; I want to surprise him. However, we get into an accident on the way there. When I rush to the hospital with my bloodied son in my arms, I see Niall holding his first love's daughter. He coos at her and says, "This might be a small wound, but there's a risk of infection if it isn't handled well!" His first love, Chelsea Blanc, gives him a chiding look. "You treat Lulu so well that I'm getting jealous." Niall wraps an arm around her. "It's only because I love you. You're the one I love the most." I pull out my phone and call him. He keeps his arm around Lulu White and rejects my call. So, I text him, telling him our son is injured and has been taken to the hospital where he works. I tell him he needs to attend to our son. However, he berates me for lying. I have no choice but to take my son elsewhere for treatment. Before leaving, I see Niall kiss Chelsea tenderly and tell her he wants to take her to an amusement park. That's when I know he and I are over.

During a mission overseas, I shielded my younger brother from an explosion—only to wake up months later, my body broken, my mind trapped in the void of a coma. Grateful for my sacrifice, he repaid me by marrying my wife. When I finally clawed my way back to consciousness and rushed home, I found my son kneeling on the ground, sobbing as his college acceptance letter lay shredded in his fists. My nephew loomed over him, slamming a steel pipe into his back. "Lick my shoes clean," he sneered. "Who are you to think you deserve an education?" And there was my wife clapping in delight, dabbing the sweat from my nephew’s brow like a doting servant. "You’re just like your deadbeat father," My wife spat. "Born to be my stepping stone." My eyes bloodshot, I tightened my fists. Every last one of them would pay for this dearly.

When my wife brought her lover home for the fifth time, I decided enough was enough. I said nothing, not a word of complaint or protest. Instead, I superglued the windows shut and locked the bedroom door from the outside. From the bedroom came the muffled sounds of her little escapade, breathless and feverish, carrying through the walls like a shameful melody no one asked to hear. Calmly, I sat in the living room, picked up the phone, and called my mother-in-law. "Jessie," I said, putting on my best tone of urgency, "it's bad—real bad! Your daughter's locked herself in the bedroom and says she's gonna end it all!"

During the eighth month of my pregnancy, I was pushed and fell. This caused me to have a miscarriage. In order to keep me alive, my womb would be removed. Just when I was experiencing excruciating pain, I accidentally overheard the conversation between my husband and the doctor. "Mr. Lawson, Ms. White is actually in stable condition now. Are you sure you want us to remove her womb?" "This is the only way that she will truly love my and Riley's child. Riley and I will never be together, but I'll give everything that I have to our only child. Mandy already has me, isn't that enough?" After hearing their conversation with my own ears, I finally realized that the person that I loved so much was just a liar.

My father-in-law said he wanted to experience "how the young folks have fun these days," so I took him to my wife's newly opened upscale cocktail bar for a quiet drink. I’d just finished ordering him a custom cocktail when a man from a booth across the room swaggered over, glass in hand. His eyes scanned the drink menu on our table, and a condescending smirk twisted his lips. "Only ordering the cheapest well drinks?" he sneered. "Brought the old man here to enjoy the free air conditioning? Trash like you belongs in a dive bar. Who even let you in here?" Anger burned in my chest. I stood up, my jaw clenched. "We're paying customers. What's it to you?" But before I could say another word, his face darkened with pure rage. He snatched the half-finished beer bottle from our table and raised it high above my head. "My girl owns this place!" he snarled. "Even if I crack your skull open, I can afford the payout! You filthy pauper—either get on your knees and lick my shoes dry, or get the hell out of my sight. You're an eyesore." The beer dripped down my face. My hands trembled with fury as I wiped it away. Then, a cold calm settled over me. I opened my phone, switched to the camera, and went live. "Alright, everyone," I said into the screen. "You won't want to miss this. We're going live to catch my cheating wife and see the double life she's been leading."

My husband only lasts a minute each time. As a mature woman in my thirties, I often find myself lying awake at night, feeling like something is missing from my life. That is, until I met a rugged, muscular mechanic while getting my car repaired. Watching his strong muscles flex beneath his tank top awakened a desire I hadn’t felt in a long time. Our brief, intense encounter left me overwhelmed with emotions I couldn’t control. Just as things were about to go too far, I pushed him away, not wanting to make a mistake. But then I discovered that my husband had already been cheating on me with our pregnant neighbor. So, maybe I should just...