Igstories Anonymous Novels & Stories

The day my boyfriend got back together with his first love was the day I boarded the flight to Imperia. "Queenie was just a fling," said my boyfriend. "I'll never see her again. We'll be together forever." His friends were worried about my ruining his heartfelt confession, but I would not. Not this time. Before I went to Imperia, I promised my mentor I would join medical research, and I was half a month away from total communication cutoff. I would have to stay around for ten years for the research. I would not be allowed to contact anyone in the meantime. And thus, my ties to my soon-to-be ex were broken.

Our place was hit by an earthquake. I was crushed by a slab of stone, but my wife, leader of the rescue squad, abandoned me in favor of her true love. She said, "You're a soldier. You can live with a little injury. Felix can't. He's always been weak, and he needs me." I was saved, eventually, and I wanted to leave my wife. I agreed to the chip research that would station me in one of the National Science Foundation's bases deep in the mountains. My leader was elated about my agreeing to this research. He grasped my hand tightly. "Marvelous. With you in our team, Jonathan, this research won't fail! But… you'll be gone for six whole years. Are you sure your partner's fine with it?" I nodded. "She will be. I'm serving the nation here. She'll understand." The leader patted my shoulder. "Good to know. The clock is ticking, so you'll only have one month to say your goodbyes. That enough for you?" I smiled. "More than enough."

My wife's first love kills me without a shred of mercy. But my wife, a world-class surgeon, doesn't try to save me. Instead, she comforts her first love. "He's so ruthless! How could he hurt you this badly?" She even tells the police that I've severely injured her first love, claiming she wants to press charges for attempted murder. Then she points at my body and demands that I get up and apologize to her first love. "Charles, stop pretending! You just want me to pity you, right? Get up and apologize to Steven!" she yells.

We'd been legally married for seven years, yet my CEO "fiance", Jared Lane, had ditched me at the altar thirteen times. At our first wedding, his assistant, Maeve Fischer, scraped her leg. I spent the entire day waiting alone at the ceremony. At our second wedding, he heard she was sick and tossed the wedding ring away to rush to her side. On every wedding day after that, some accident would conveniently happen to her. By the 13th time he bailed, I had had enough and decided to walk away. But when I found comfort in another man's arms, Jared lost his mind trying to win me back.

After my mother shot down my pleas to cover my medical bills the 100th time, I clutched my bone cancer diagnosis papers and trudged to the crematorium. "Hi, I'd like to reserve a cremation slot ahead of time," I muttered to the clerk. Half an hour ticked by before my parents and adopted brother arrived in their car. My dad, a forensic pathologist, cracked me across the face. "You're pulling a fake-death stunt now, just to steal the spotlight from your brother?" My mom, a hospital director, snatched the papers from my hands and shredded them into confetti. "Faking records using my credentials and tying up hospital resources? You've crossed the line!" My brother cried, tugging at their sleeves. "It's all my fault. I'll skip the amusement park forever. I don't need a thing. Just quit riling up Mom and Dad." I spun around, my hand pressed against my throbbing chest, and begged the crematorium staff. "Please, when it's time, cremate me and scatter the ashes in the river. I've got no family left in this world."

My CEO boyfriend promises that he'll only complete 99 wishes with his first love—she's lost her memory after being injured. However, I see them curling up in each other's arms when the wishes are completed. Later, I stop pestering him about him caring for his first love. All I ask from him is an anklet for a baby—I want it as a remembrance of our child's birth, which is happening soon. His gaze softens at the mention of the child. "Once I'm done with this, I'll accompany you shopping so we can pick out things for the baby." I nod compliantly. I don't tell him it's already been a week since I asked a lawyer to draft a breakup agreement. In fact, we're already broken up.

On our son's fifth birthday, the three of us went to watch a meteor shower. In the middle of it, my husband answered a phone call and left in a hurry. Late that night, our son had an asthma attack. The only medicine he needed was in my husband's car. I clutched my son and ran through the empty wilderness, stumbling in the dark as I called my husband over and over again. All I got back was an icy message: [Something urgent. Do not disturb.] The next day, he finally called. However, the voice on the other end was not his. "Last night, my dog suddenly fell ill and died. Elias was worried I wouldn't take it well, so he stayed with me all night. He has just fallen asleep. If you have anything to say, you can tell me." I stroked my son's pale, bluish face. "Tell him," I said, "we're getting a divorce."

My boyfriend, Jacob Torrance, claimed he hated being touched. Five years together, and all I got were stiff hand-holds and the rare side-hug. Even in bed, he kept his distance. I figured he was just emotionally shut off. Then he dropped this: he wanted a kid—with his mentor's daughter. "Take it as a sperm donation," he said. "Dr. Lynn asked me before he died. Wendy's got no one else." I smiled. "You don't have to explain. I support you." When you're over someone, there's no point fighting about what's right or wrong.

When I'm at the hospital for a prenatal checkup, I find out that the husband of the woman sitting beside me is Rupert Hensley, a renowned businessman. It's such a coincidence. Rupert is my husband, too. As we chat, I learn that her husband isn't with her because he's out of town for a meeting. This is even more coincidental—my husband is also out of town for a meeting. After a long silence, I decide to get an abortion instead of going for my prenatal checkup. It's only when I later ask for a divorce that I remember he and I never registered our marriage in the first place.

On my birthday, Rowan Shore ditches me for the 99th time to run to his suicidal true love. I tell the system, "I'm done with this mission. I've had enough." For years, I have tried every trick in the book, but I can't win Rowan's heart. The system says that if I die in this world, I'll return to my original one. The first time, I slit my wrists in the bathroom. Rowan kicks the door down, sends me to the hospital, and berates me for using self-harm to snare his attention. The second time, I swallow an entire bottle of sleeping pills. He bursts in at the last moment and sobs while holding me. He says he knows he messed up. There's still a third time, a fourth time, and more, right?