I've Tried So Hard

For the past three months, I've slept only three hours every day just so my team and I can create an app. Thanks to our hard work, the app goes absolutely viral to the point we've garnered over 100 million registered users on the first week of its launch. At the afterparty, my wife, Stacie Woodward, announces that her godbrother, Tory Frost, who's the PR manager, will be the one receiving the million-dollar bonus. She then tosses me a few 50% discount coupons that can be used in shopping malls as my bonus. "You're just a code monkey—why do you need that much money anyway? You can have these discount coupons. Use them on anything you want. At least buy some nice clothes for yourself. Don't go around wearing these rags. You'll just end up humiliating me more." I plead to her in a low tone, "Have you gone crazy, Stacie? My dad needs the money for the best medication in order to save his life! Can you please stop joking around?" But Stacie clings to Toby's arm, looking high and mighty. "Your dad's dying, isn't he? He might as well stop wasting the public resources! I can always choose him a better grave and hold a nice funeral for him when his time comes!" As I look at Stacie's smug face, I just smile at her instead of getting mad at her. She must have forgotten that the app's core algorithm and the user growth model are built using my private, undisclosed technology stack. That means the copyright is mine and has nothing to do with the company. I just smile while nodding at Stacie. That night, I activate the technology stack's self-destruct and migration protocols.

I spent five years chasing Tyler Watson, only to get kidnapped right in front of him. He just stood there and watched. As a result, I suffered. After I escaped, he acted all high and mighty and proposed to make up for his tiny bit of guilt. The second we got our marriage certificate, the Simp System’s voice rang in my head. “Congrats, host! You’ve completed your mission.” Just like that, my sanity finally returned. While Tyler waited in a hotel for me to bring him contraceptives, I went live to expose his cheating. For good measure, I even called the anti-vice office to report my dear husband for soliciting prostitutes.

I had been married to Derek for six years, and we had a three-year-old son. He was poor, earning only $2,000 a month, but I had no complaints; I took care of everything at home for him. After getting dinner on the table for the whole family, I finally had a minute to check my phone. A video popped up on my feed: a twenty-two-year-old girl from a rural area whose hands, roughened by years of hard labor, looked like they belonged to a sixty-two-year-old woman. I looked down at my own hands, just as worn and scarred, and stared at them blankly before tapping into the comments. I expected people to feel bad for her. However, to my surprise, the comments section was flooded with a single sentiment: "Why would anyone marry a penniless loser?" One of the top-liked comments came from a couple; in their photo, they were pictured holding hands—fingers tightly intertwined—with the girl sporting a massive diamond ring. The accompanying caption read: "A man who truly loves you would never bear to let you suffer." I felt a pang of envy. Given the choice, who wouldn't want a glamorous life? As I was about to close the app, I accidentally tapped on the couple's photo, enlarging it. In the background, previously too blurry to make out, was a face I recognized. It looked exactly like my husband, Derek Sterling. I froze, and almost against my will, I tapped into the account's profile. Post after post of lavish photos of them together flooded my screen. And then I saw him clearly. The scar above his brow, the one he got when a shelf fell on him while protecting me, was still plainly visible. It was my husband. It was Derek.

The Day I Was Reborn, I Rejected the Alpha In my previous life, on my third year as Luna, I took an arrow tipped with wolfsbane meant for my Alpha mate Julian. My wolf was nearly killed, and I lay comatose for three full years. When I finally woke, Julian held my sister Lyra's hand and told me they were in love. He wanted me to step aside. My adoptive mother, Eleanor, pressured me to accept it. I refused. When the three of them closed in on me, I appealed to the Council of Elders. In the end, the Council ruled that Lyra be exiled. She couldn't bear the humiliation, and took her own life. Julian let me keep my title as Luna, but he hated me for the rest of his life. He would look at me with cold, dead eyes. "You should never have woken up. Then I wouldn't have lost Lyra." My adoptive mother blamed me too — for killing my sister, for destroying our family. Seven years later, grief and alcohol had hollowed Julian out completely. On his deathbed, the cold mask slipped. He gripped my hand. "In the next life... will you let me have Lyra?" Something in me went numb. After Julian was gone, the pack fell apart without an Alpha. Every one of them cursed me for being the one still alive. In the fighting that came after, my own pack handed me over to a rival pack. They put a dozen arrows through me. I died alone in the wilderness. When I opened my eyes, I was back — back to the day I first woke up.

Separated by fate, haunted by the past-- that's how they live. Until they meet again; they built hatred, showed agony, betrayed friends, wanted to be loved and learned how to sacrifice one's happiness. Remember those nights that I've been disturbing you, it's because I can't say what I need to say. Remember the time that I didn't disturb you; I've been holding so much, hoping that you'd be the one to call me first- and you did. Every time I hurt your feelings, I'm hurting too. I- I just don't know how to tell you the exact words, so I keep on annoying you. I'm sorry for all the troubles that I have caused- "I know," I said and I hug him. I can sense the same pain as what he is in my dream. Confessing is not bad. I'm just overwhelmed kasi I feel the same. "I like you too, Alex. I don't know how, I don't know why but that's how I felt. I hate you harassing and annoying me but I missed it when you don't!" I smiled. There fate is twisted.

She stood nervously opposite this grey-eyed delinquent. No matter how hard she tried to avoid him, he was always coming back to her. Her heart skipped the more he leaned closer to her. Her back leaned against his desk as her eyes locked with his. He was something words can't describe. " Why are you scared of me, Ariel?" " I'm not..." She stuttered. She seems to lose her breath at just his sight. " What if I kiss you right now?" That made her heartbeat skipped. They were inches apart and all she could feel was his hot breath against her neck. " I'm not feeling very well." He whispered, trailing his fingertips on the naive brunette. " Why are you telling me this?" " I want you to be my nurse, kiss me till I feel better. Or maybe..." He whispered, leaning closer to her so she could feel him. " Babysit me tonight" *** She's a good girl. She's no different from a boring introvert. She likes to read and stay indoors. One dream she loved was going to Nun school. She was about to take her vows in the convent, but her dream went down the drain when her male best friend stole everything away from her, tearing away her holy garment as he stole her innocence. She hated herself and her family despised her more for making them lose their positions in church. Just when she was picking up her broken self, Bad Boy Billionaire, Gray Carter, walked into her life with his mysteries. ** Under Editing.

I got hurt and lost consciousness on the battlefield. When I woke up after a three-day coma, I suddenly wanted to pull a prank on my mate. “Who are you?” When I saw my mate freeze, I wanted to laugh, but he suddenly saluted. “Miss Selena, I’m your comrade, Galeis.” He then pointed at his brother. “He’s Leonore, your mate.” I froze. Leonore stepped forward. “Yes, I’m your mate.” I forced out a smile. “Take me home, then.”

Eleuthera Augustine is a soldier and a writer. At the age of 21, after her military training and missions, she saw herself being attached to her boy best friend Darren Ramirez who happened was also her Captain. Eleuthera and Darren promised to each other that no one can take them apart: One shall not leave and one shall not forget. But the promises got shattered when Darren dies in front of Eleuthera. Years later, Eleuthera had a mission: To protect the General's grandson, Zayn Eros de la Vega. Fate was playing with her when she learned her best friend's murderer has something to do with Zayn Eros. While on her mission something had happened — something she wished that was true if it was not she rather not be awakened from her dream. What if the dream she loved turned out to be her greatest nightmare? Can Eleuthera accept her best friend's fate or will she let herself drawn to her dream? Can Eleuthera disguise reality over her fantasy? Written by Doctor_Art Completed on December 12, 2020

I woke up from a nightmare, and I was back. Back in the year the Falcone family went to war with the Morozovs for the shipping lanes. I was the Donna of the Falcone family. The woman they all envied. And the first thing I did? I got rid of the baby in my belly. My husband's child. Don Enzo's. Because in my last life, on the day I gave birth, Enzo held up a baby with blue eyes. His own eyes were blazing. "How dare you sleep with a Morozov," he snarled, "and birth their blue-eyed bastard!" The family sentenced me to death. They threw me in a cell. I didn't learn the truth until the very end. That baby belonged to Eliana—Enzo's first love. She was the one sleeping with our sworn enemy. The Morozovs. And Enzo? He stole my rightful heir and swapped him for her bastard. They made me the family traitor. And left my body to rot in a cold, damp cell. And my own son—his mind twisted by that bitch—stood over my corpse and cursed my name. When I opened my eyes again, I was three months pregnant. I didn't hesitate. I walked into a clinic and ended it. Before I left, I took a different kind of shot. High-grade hormones, straight from the black market. It fakes the signs of pregnancy. Fools even the best blood tests. Enzo needed a baby to cover for Eliana's sins. Fine. Let's play.

I stumbled across an encrypted folder on my husband's phone, filled with photos of a little girl I'd never seen before. From newborn to first steps, sorted by month—two full years' worth. But the child in those photos wasn't our daughter. When I confronted him, he said she was a girl named Rosie from the children's home I sponsored. The director sent growth updates, and he'd been saving them for me. I never imagined that my warm, thoughtful husband would use my charity to spin a lie. Because every single photo was geotagged to the apartment complex next to his office. And the children's home was on the other side of the city. I didn't call him out right then. Because I wanted to know whose child she really was.