Jay Lewis I Hope Novels & Stories

My childhood friend, Sawyer Dwyer, had just confessed his feelings to me when his ex, Lina Keenan, got into a car accident. In the hospital hallway, his voice was steady. "She can't handle any emotional shock right now. Just give it some time. Don't tell her about us." I met his gaze and nodded. I never thought "some time" would turn into three whole years. He made her soup, helped with her rehab, and gave her all his attention. But whenever I showed the slightest frustration, he got annoyed. "Joelle, don't overthink it. She just depends on me right now. Once she's better, everything will be fine. "I'm just being there for her as a friend. "Stop making this into something it's not..." ... Over and over, he made the same promises with complete confidence. Then one day, I brought a hot meal to Lina's place and pushed open the door. They were kissing. I stood there, frozen. When Lina noticed me, she smiled. "Joelle, I have good news. We're back together. When are you going to get a boyfriend? I want to see you happy too." I looked at their hands locked together, my eyes burning. "I did have a boyfriend. But just now... we broke up."

Vera Quinn and I spent seven years tearing each other apart in the corporate world. When we first started, she sabotaged my presentation slides, hoping to watch me humiliate myself in front of the board. I retaliated by flagging her fraudulent expense reports to HR, making sure her name was dragged through every department in the company. When we were both up for the director position, she locked me in a supply closet to make me miss the final interview. The moment I got out, I poached a major client she had been pursuing for six months, leaving her at the very bottom of the year-end performance rankings. In our industry, we were fire and water—completely incompatible. Then three years ago, the endless scheming finally felt hollow. I handed in my resignation and walked away from the industry for good. The day I packed my desk and left, Vera was leaning against the elevator door, her eyes full of mockery. "Giving up already? Mylo, a cowardly deserter like you deserves to starve on the streets". I hit the "close" button, swearing I never wanted to see her face again as long as I lived. Three years later, we crossed paths again at the industry’s annual gala. Vera was now the youngest partner in the industry. She looked at me as I stood there, humbling myself to pour drinks for an executive, and let out a sharp laugh. "It’s been a few years, and you’ve fallen this far? Working as a glorified escort to scrounge up some investments? What happened to that pride you used to fight me with?" But I wasn't there to secure any investment. I was there to beg that executive for a few more days to pay off the predatory loans my father had left behind. I just needed enough time to sign the consent form for my stomach cancer surgery with a clear conscience.

I didn’t expect my marriage to end when it was on the verge of being saved. Noah Reece, my husband, married my best friend and divorced me. And on a cold night, I fell into the arms of a man I was never supposed to love. When I tried to run from him and what we were becoming, my past returned to claim me in the most tempting way, leaving me torn between two forbidden choices.

The night of my first shift at eighteen, my two older sisters brought home a fifteen-year-old orphaned boy. My Alpha sister seized the rare healing herbs I'd spent all my savings on — herbs meant to ease my first shift — and gave them to him instead. "You're strong enough," she growled. "You don't need such precious herbs." My Beta sister snarled with fury, pointing toward the door. "Get out! Don't come back!" I said nothing more, just grabbed my packed bag and left. They assumed I was merely throwing a tantrum, that I'd return in a few days. My sisters, finally free of my presence, took the orphan boy on an international vacation to the Caribbean islands I'd always dreamed of visiting. Many days later, when they returned to the pack, they were shocked to discover I'd accepted an offer from the neighboring pack's Head Healer. The position required fifteen years of isolated herbal research. I could never return home. That night, they fell apart.

Separated by fate, haunted by the past– that's how they live. Until they met 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'd been holding on 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 hugged him. I can sense the same pain as what he is in my dream. Confessing is not bad. I'm just overwhelmed because I feel the same way. "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. Their fate is twisted.

At the wedding, I immediately recognized that the woman under the veil wasn't Selene, but an impostor. But I still went through with the ceremony as if nothing was wrong. In my previous life, Selene had been forced to return and complete the wedding with me after I exposed the fake bride in front of everyone. That very night, however, her childhood sweetheart was rushed to the ICU with acute alcohol poisoning. When Selene heard the news, she didn't shed a tear. Instead, she cursed him, saying he got what he deserved. … After we married, Selene and I appeared to be a loving couple on the surface. I kept funneling money from my family to save her family business from collapse. But on our first anniversary, my wife—with not even a sliver of warmth in her eyes—tied me to a helicopter with her own hands. "If you hadn't forced me to come back and marry you that day, Chase wouldn't have ended up like that," she snarled. "What right do you have to live so happily? I'll make sure you feel the pain he went through before he died." She threw me from ten thousand yards up, and I hit the ground as nothing more than a broken heap of flesh. So, this time, I pretended to know nothing and went through with the wedding alongside the fake bride. I wanted to see just how Selene would manage to save the crumbling Liraine Co. without the Schreiber family's support.

I was about to get married, but my boyfriend of nine years had no idea. Why? All because his recently divorced ex-girlfriend waltzed back into town, and he threw himself into her life without hesitation. The knight in shining armor was back, ready to save the day. The moment they saw each other, it was like a scene from a bad romance novel. Their gazes lingered, sparks flying, the kind that screamed, “Oh, we’re soulmates reunited.” To welcome her back, he had 9,999 Juliet roses flown in to decorate her room. Why? All because it was a promise he had made to her long ago. How sweet. Except for one small problem: I’m severely allergic to pollen. When I woke up in the hospital after an emergency rescue, I didn’t cry, yell, or demand answers. No, I pulled out my phone and texted my parents, "Please help me arrange a marriage. I’m done."

After my older sister, Cecilia, and I hit adulthood, our parents dropped a bomb: one of us had to run the family business, the other had to marry into the Spencer family in Norwick City. Cecilia, blinded by greed, called dibs on the company without blinking. Problem was, she was all talk. Spent her days jet-setting and partying while the business tanked. Within a year, she'd burned it all to the ground. Me? I got the Spencer name and popped out two boys, locking in my spot as the rich wife. Cecilia couldn't handle it. Jealousy made her snap—she straight-up stabbed me at a family party. Next thing I knew, I was back on the day we had to choose. Cecilia didn't even pause. "I'll marry into the Spencer family. The business can go to Demi." I laughed. My poor, clueless sister—she had no idea she was walking straight into hell.

The day two students got into a dispute, I ran into Morris Freeman, my ex from ten years ago. The boy who had been fighting wiped his tears and called him "Dad". Morris froze when he saw me, then finally remembered what was going on and apologized. "Ms. Langstaff, I'm sorry for causing you trouble." I handled the compensation by the book and wrapped everything up. When it was over, he lagged behind, clearly wanting to say something. "Back then, I remember you didn't want to be a teacher." I gave a faint smile and walked him to the office door. "People change. So do their ideas." Just like my feelings for him. That chapter had been closed a long time ago.

On the day I was supposed to try on wedding dresses with Charles Jaspier, the mafia leader I had loved for seven years, I walked into the boutique carrying a pregnancy test report—my heart full of hope. Instead, I overheard a conversation that shattered everything. "Registering the marriage with Ellis Olsen was a temporary measure," he said calmly to his closest confidant. "My brother died in a shootout. She's carrying the Jaspier family's only heir. Without a legal status, neither she nor the child would survive in this family." "Everyone would bully them." A cigar rested between his fingers. His voice was cold, edged with resignation. "Zoey Qandor can't have a title—but I can give her everything else. My love. My money. This must never reach her ears." I clenched the pregnancy report, my heart turning to ash. With my best friend's help, I created a new identity—one that ensured Charles would never find me again—and disappeared from his world. If he could not give me and my child a complete family, then this love—built on responsibility and lies—was better cut cleanly, once and for all.