Intersexual Awakening Novels & Stories

My husband was tall and handsome, but he had no money to pay his debts. During the five years of our marriage, I sold my house and car for him. We then moved to a dark and humid basement that was only 300 square feet in size. When I got pregnant, I wanted to go for checkups, but he said that there was no need for it, as it was a waste of money. So I gave birth to a baby with a congenital heart condition. In order to get the money for his surgery, I worked three jobs every day. At that time, I noticed that my husband bought a mansion worth 40 million dollars for an influencer, and I finally realized that my husband was no orphan, but the son of the richest man in the country.

I jump off the seventh floor on my wedding day. Why? Because everyone has abandoned me to pick up a fake heiress from the airport, my fiancé included. I expect to see them riddled with heartbreak and regret after my death. However, my father merely shakes his head stoically and looks at my body while saying I was too willful. My mother bites her lip and sighs in relief. My fiancé, Magnus Gilmore, shields the fake heiress. He's afraid she'll see the horrible state of my body. The fake heiress is scared to tears at this, and everyone crowds around her to console her. No one cares whether I'm still breathing while lying in a pool of blood. I'm stunned when I see this, but I soon laugh self-deprecatingly. When I open my eyes again, I've been brought back seven years in the past. It's the day I've just stepped foot at home.

After five long years of dating, Winona Shaw finally said yes. I was elated, like a scavenger who'd struck gold. I put everything I had into the engagement party, but out of the blue, Winona embraced Claude Landton instead. She even tried to frame me and boot me to jail. I canceled the party and called the cops instead. That made Winona mad, and Claude started panicking. Icily, I said, "Now, calm down. We have a lot of trials to go through. See you in court."

The air in the Parisian haute couture salon smelled like money and fear. I’d waited six months for my wedding dress. Now, it was draped over the shoulders of Sofia Ross—the trending influencer, and my mafia fiancé Vincent Cassio’s god-sister. The salon manager was sweating bullets, his eyes darting between me and the man lounging on the velvet sofa. Vincent Cassio stood up. He adjusted a fold of the diamond-encrusted train on Sofia with a casual flick of his wrist. “Her premiere next week needs a statement piece. She’s borrowing it. Pick something off the rack and stop making a scene.” His tone was flat, final. Under the crystal chandeliers, Sofia admired herself in the full-length mirror, a triumphant smile on her lips. I looked at my reflection in the same mirror, wearing jeans and a soaked trench coat. I looked like a lost tourist. Suddenly, the entire past year of planning felt like a sick joke. I didn’t yell. I just felt cold. Numb. I slipped the five-carat engagement ring off my finger. It hit the glass coffee table with a sharp, final click. “You’re right, Vincent. I don’t need this wedding dress. This wedding… I don’t need it either.”

That night at the Holy Banquet, the Arrow of Desire struck both the divine prince Cassius, a descendant of Zeus, and his father, Theron. If they didn’t mate before the moon set, their divine power would implode, shattering their very essence. In my past life, I had secretly loved Cassius for ten whole years. So, when he grabbed me, his body burning up, I didn't say no. After one wild night, I was carrying his thunder-blooded child and successfully married into the divine palace. But after the wedding, he was ice-cold to me. He was convinced I had stolen the Arrow of Desire, all for the sake of marrying into divinity. Even after I gave him children, he never claimed me as his wife before the gods. He saved all his tenderness for his one true love—the holy maiden Lyra, who was forced to marry into the Sea Realm and eventually died in a storm. Later, I was branded as "jealous and wicked," scorned by all of divine kind. So when my children’s overwhelming lightning magic went out of control, no one came to help. My babies and I were consumed by that arcane tempest. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the night he was shot. The young divine prince Cassius, burning with heat, reached out to me with desperate hunger. But high up on the throne... His father, Theron—the beautiful, ruthless God King who had ruled for centuries—was also losing the battle against his own searing desire. Everyone expected me to throw myself into Cassius’s arms. But this time, I gathered my skirts, strode past him, and sat right on the God King’s lap.

After an accident and miscarriage, Hansel Saddler and I are so devastated that we're both diagnosed with depression. For the next five years, I try my best to act like I'm normal as I care for him and try to cheer him up. This lasts until I overhear him speaking to the psychologist at the clinic's door. "Work's been getting busy lately, and pretending to be depressed makes it inconvenient to deal with that. Can you change my diagnosis to manic disorder?" The psychologist giggles. "You have been quite manic lately, darling. You've been making me feel really sore down there." "I can make you feel even more sore now." Then, I hear moans and groans. It turns out everything I've done over the past five years is nothing but a joke. I pull up my conversation with Colin Foster. "I agree to undergo secluded treatment deep in the mountains abroad."

All my life, I have been trapped in the shadow of my sister, Selene. She was the Silver Moon Pack's Daughter of Moonlight, blessed by the Moon Goddess, the prize every Alpha coveted. What she didn't know was that this time, I had been blessed as well. I was reborn on the night of my mating ceremony. Just as in my past life, she smiled that harmless smile, insisting on giving me the first choice of a mate, maintaining her perfect facade of a generous and doting sister in front of everyone. This time, however, I wouldn't give her the chance. In my last life, I genuinely believed she had my best interests at heart. I foolishly gave her the first choice and chose Alpha Damien of the Black Forest Pack, a man who suffered from Moon Sickness, sending him into frequent, uncontrollable rages. I gave up my birthright within the pack and became the balm for his violent wolf, staying by his side every moment like a full-time caretaker, even though he never offered me a single ounce of a mate's affection. It was not until a Rogue wolf attacked during the celebration for Selene's heir that he attempted to use dark magic to steal her unborn pup's spirit. In that instant, the Alpha who everyone believed had been lost to madness for years was suddenly lucid. He lunged forward to protect Selene, but in his haste, he accidentally pulled me into the path of the dark magic. The spell struck me instead, crippling my wolf spirit. Only then did I finally understand. He had never truly suffered from Moon Sickness. His pack had never seen him as a discarded monster. He had feigned madness only because he knew he could never have Selene's love and refused to bond with anyone but her. In my final moments, he apologized to me. "Forgive me, Elara." "I could never let anything happen to Selene. I'll repay you in my next life." When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the night our father ordered us to choose our destined mates. This time, they were the ones begging for my love.

They say Don Julian Marconi would burn the world for one tear of mine. Five years ago, at the Met Gala, he spent millions to hang emeralds around my neck and swore I was his Madonna. Five years later, beneath the velvet boxes of our anniversary, I found a lace strap soaked in sin—and a fresh, crimson smear on his collar that told me exactly whose bed he’d left. I smiled. I asked him to sign a blank sheet of paper. And that meant he was agreeing to whatever I wanted. He called it love. I called it the death warrant for his empire. In fifteen days, I finalized our divorce papers. I boarded the Stella d’Oro as Serena Cole and burned Celeste Marconi to ash on the deck. Then I vanished with his fortune, his power and the one secret that would destroy him. I was the saint he worshipped. Now I am the ghost who haunts him. No groveling. No forgiveness. No second chance. Just ashes.

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!

My family sold one of their properties to put me through school abroad. Nathan Kingsley and I had been together three years. Two of those were long-distance. Through those two years of me alone overseas, he never broke contact — airport pickups, long phone calls, every anniversary remembered. I'd never once doubted him. I thought distance hadn't beaten us. The day I flew home, he was waiting at Arrivals with a bouquet of flowers. He smiled and said, "Finally." We set the engagement date. We picked out the dress. We booked the reception. The day the wedding march began and I stood at the top of the aisle looking at him, I thought — these three years were worth every minute. Then the doors behind me opened. My sister walked into the chapel, in a white dress, and slid her arm through his. She smiled at me. "Sorry, sis. Those airport pickups? I'm the one who sent him. For the last three years, he's been mine the whole time."