How To Know Someone Doesn't Like You Novels & Stories

Five years after migrating abroad, my husband, Shawn Johnson, brings his true love and her son home. "Jill and Neil are new here. They'll be staying with us for a few days." He and I get into a huge fight over this. On my birthday, Shawn hands me a divorce agreement. He says, "Hurry up and sign it. Jill needs this country's citizenship, so let's divorce for show first." I frown, wanting to ask for more details. However, he points at me and calls me heartless. Shortly after, I see Jill's social media update. "Shawnie divorced his wife for me and Neil! We finally have a roof over our heads." I like the post and sign the divorce agreement. Then, I submit an application to my company to be

as soon as I stepped out of the villa, it felt like I’d walked straight into a nightmare. Hector, the man I’d missed so much, was surrounded by soldiers, passionately kissing some woman I’d never seen before. The cheers and whistles around them felt like knives stabbing into my heart. I froze, my happiness turning into icy disappointment and rage. I forced myself to walk closer, even though every step felt like I was wading through quicksand. As more people noticed me, the noise died down, like someone had hit the mute button. Hector and his mystery woman were still in their own world until they finally sensed the eerie silence and pulled apart. When Hector’s eyes met mine, panic

During a family gathering, my mother produces a few photos of different men. She asks me which one I want to get into an arranged marriage with. I don't choose Bradley Garvin again in this lifetime. Instead, I pull out a photo of my own and give it to my mother. It's of Terrence Garvin, the Garvin family's true leader. My mother is surprised. I've pursued Bradley for many years, after all. What she doesn't know is that I married him in my past life. However, he rarely came home. I always thought it was because he was too busy. Whenever anyone asked me about it, I took all the blame. I only discovered the truth on our 20th wedding anniversary after accidentally breaking a box he kept lock

I've been married to Sylvia Fuller, a mafia donna, for ten years. I'm there with her in every life-and-death situation. My hands, which are meant for playing the piano, have developed calluses from using guns. They are also stained with blood from the enemies. But when Sylvia turns 28, she falls head over heels in love with Wilson Hink, the young man she's brought back from the slums. Sylvia has hidden him very well… right until the moment I bump into him accompanying her to a prenatal check-up. Mad with jealousy, I demand Sylvia for answers, but she just passes me a divorce agreement in a lackadaisical manner. "Wilson is a man of religion. He can't sire a child without getting married

Because I was a cheapskate, I rented a cheap apartment. The catch? Someone had died in it. The soundproofing of the house was bad, and I could hear my neighbor’s wife moaning every night. But my other neighbor told me that there was no one living in the apartment next to mine.

On the Memorial Day weekend, Mason Hayes, the student my wife, Abigail Sullivan, had been sponsoring, insisted on riding with me back to his hometown. My car was small, the drive was long, and the trunk was already packed. There was no way to fit another adult, so I turned him down as politely as I could. That night, Abigail came home and stayed quiet for a long time before finally saying, "He ended up walking along the highway. His feet were torn up." I frowned, trying to make sense of it. "It's a holiday weekend. There are Ubers everywhere. He could've booked one in minutes." She nodded softly, the same gentle expression she always wore, and poured me a glass of water. I drank it. Th

I'm discovered by a man who's gone fishing early in the morning. I'm caught on his hook, but he can't pull me up, no matter how hard he tugs. He comes closer to see me floating in the water and is terrified. He runs off to call the police, leaving his fishing pole behind. When the police get me out of the water, I'm hanging on by a thread. Even the doctors who participate in my rescue think they can't save me. When they call my husband and tell him to come sign some forms, he tells me he doesn't have time for that. He's busy making a hot drink for his true love, who has a cold. Later, he bawls his eyes out and begs me to spare him another glance.

In order to see the aurora with Alexander, I began planning a year in advance. Alexander and my adopted sister had already left me behind and gone to the destination ahead of time. When I arrived, no one answered the phone. I waited for ten hours before he finally returned my call. On the phone, Evelyn laughed excitedly, "Diana! I've already explored this entire city. Alex is so mature and charming—he planned everything in advance. I'm having such a wonderful time!" She chattered away, sharing her experiences, while Alexander occasionally play along to add details. The two of them had spent the holiday blissfully together like a pair of lovebirds. It was as if neither of them had noticed o

After I developed transient amnesia, fragments of my memories would come back to me every day. But after a month, I would lose part of my memory again. The doctor said my condition would shorten my life and that there was no cure. Devastated, I went to my parents, ready to tell them I was giving up on treatment. Instead, I overheard my family talking inside the room. "His memories are returning! We have to increase the dosage before he remembers everything!" My older sister, Lena Jackson, hesitated. "This has already happened 99 times. If we do it again, we might really ruin him." "What if he gets his memory back and wants to return to the other world? Won't Zach die because of h

My father, Benjamin Ward, was bedridden, paralyzed, and unable to move. The AI model he spent his entire life developing—a model powerful enough to cure terminal diseases—had been stolen and published under someone else's name. Humiliated beyond endurance, he suffered a stroke and collapsed. He couldn't speak. He couldn't even write. I swore I'd find the thief who destroyed him. My girlfriend, Maris Dawn, wept and promised to help me uncover the truth. But at a dinner party, when her first love proudly announced that he'd been specially recruited by a national research lab thanks to that very model, she immediately grabbed my arm, whispering, "Don't make a scene. Grayson just wants a go