Karma And Nagisa Novels & Stories

Madam Pratt, my mother-in-law, was in critical condition after a car accident, desperately needing surgery. However, as the lead surgeon, I—Lilianne Davis—stood by, casually scrolling through short videos on my phone. My best friend, Tiffany Owens, who was also a doctor, was far more anxious than I was. She grabbed my hand and pulled me toward the operating room. “Lily, why are you still stalling? Hurry up and save her!” I took a step back, clutching my stomach in pain as her face twisted in shock. “I have cramps so bad I can’t even stand. You do it.” In my last life, the moment I heard about Madam Pratt’s accident, I had swallowed a painkiller and rushed into surgery, working for hours to stabilize her. I had barely stepped away from the operating table when alarms blared. “Lilianne, what have you done? The patient is experiencing acute hemolysis!” “Call the family now!” Gareth Pratt stormed in, his face twisted with rage. He slapped me hard in the face. “Lil, you’re a professional surgeon, yet you gave my mother the wrong blood transfusion?!” I froze, reaching for Madam Pratt’s medical report to explain, only to find that the A-type blood I had seen before had somehow changed to B-type. The medical board arrived, and a blood test revealed traces of hallucinogens in my system. “Unbelievable! Taking illegal substances before surgery? That’s a cardinal sin for a doctor!” In the chaos, Emma Pratt, Gareth’s teenage sister, grabbed a scalpel and stabbed me multiple times. Blood gushed from my arteries, and I collapsed in a pool of crimson. As my vision faded, I couldn’t understand what had happened. I had never taken illegal drugs. Besides, I was absolutely certain of Madam Pratt’s blood type. When I opened my eyes again, I had returned to the moment right before stepping into the operating room.

My name is Lyra. For eighteen years, the Silvermane Pack was my home, but it was never my family. The night my only friend, Selene, chose to end her life—to Eclipse—was the night I decided to leave. She showed me that escape was possible, even if it meant walking away from everything I knew. The Alpha and Luna who raised me, and my so-called brothers, made it clear I didn't belong. Their love was always conditional, reserved for my "true-born" sister, Lillian, found just a year ago. On my forgotten birthday, I declared my own Eclipse. I am returning to my real family, the Blood-Claws. But leaving has a price. A primordial terror stirs in the darkness, threatening to devour everyone I leave behind. They think I'm running away. They have no idea what I'm really walking into, or what I must become to save them all.

"Miss Jackson, are you certain you want to undergo hypnosis? You should know that once the hypnosis begins, it cannot be reversed. Your body will be controlled by an alternate personality, and you will fall into a sleep from which you will never wake up again," the doctor asked in a grave tone from the other end of the phone. "Yes, I'm certain," Nina Jackson replied calmly.

There's about half a month to our wedding when Daniel Bradshaw and I get into a horrible fight. The reason? He wants to have a child with his mentor's daughter. "We're only going to do IVF—it's not like we're doing anything else! My mentor is gravely ill now, and his only wish is to see Phoebe have someone she can rely on!" Daniel sounds indifferent, but my blood runs cold. "It's half a month to our wedding, yet you're going to have a child with another woman. Don't you find that ridiculous?" I watch as he storms off and slams the door shut behind him. Then, I update my social media. "I'm getting married in half a month, but I need a new groom. Is anyone up for it?"

Three days after his first love Mandy's death, my husband locked me in a steel cage and sank me into the ocean. "You vicious woman," he spat. "Stay here and repent to Mandy!" He didn't know I carried his child. I thrust the pregnancy confirmation toward him, but he walked away without a backward glance. Yet when he later saw my corpse—bloated and decomposing in the seawater—he went insane.

On New Year's Eve, Facebook blew up. The reason was that Bennett Miles, the golden boy of Crestmoor’s elite, posted an update. In the photo, a shy young woman hid her face as she leaned against his shoulder while he grinned. His eyes were full of affection and mischief. His caption read, "What do I do? Looks like I'm officially taken." Friends in his circle flooded the comment section with congratulations. The real frenzy began when Bennett announced that the first 10,000 followers to like, share, and comment on the post would each receive a gold bar. The internet went wild with envy and curiosity. Everyone scrambled to find out more about the woman in the picture. Then, someone claiming to have inside information started a livestream. "Stop guessing. Her name is Kara Sierra. You know Sierra Hall at Crestmoor College? That building was named after her! "Two years ago, she had kidney failure. Bennett personally donated one of his own kidneys to save her!"

My mother-in-law got kidnapped, but my powerful husband, who ran both sides of the law, was too busy throwing a birthday bash for his old flame's dog. The kidnappers warned them they'd kill her if he didn't show up. I didn't beg him to act because, in my past life, I dragged him away from that party despite being eight months pregnant to save his mom. His old flame, who tagged along, got spotted by the kidnappers' lookout. They assaulted her and brutally killed her. Her body parts were left to be eaten by dogs. Furious, he gunned down the culprits and vanished for a month. When he returned, he never mentioned it. Then I gave birth to our son and was full of joy. But he threw me into the woods, weak and defenseless. Wild animals tore me apart, leaving nothing behind. "You were jealous of Alicia and had the kidnappers kill her?" he accused. "You don't deserve her happiness." When I opened my eyes again, I was back to the day his mom got kidnapped.

The financially disadvantaged student I was sponsoring secretly went behind my back and sold my small island, which was worth two billion dollars. I was furious and confronted her, but she publicly slandered me in front of the entire school. She exclaimed, "I saw you doing unspeakable things with eighteen men on that island! You're still young and you can't keep making mistakes like this. I sold the island for your own good!" I was so enraged that I kicked her to the ground and prepared to call the police, but my brother stopped me. He and my fiancé stood in front of the student, protecting her. They accused me of being violent and in need of medical treatment. Before I could resist, they joined forces and threw me into a psychiatric hospital, where I died that night from food poisoning. When I opened my eyes again, I had returned to the day I discovered the island had been sold.

My husband, Joaquin Landon, is a renowned wax sculptor. He hangs up on me when I call him to save my life so he can focus on the wax sculpture his cousin wants. Amphetamine is injected into my system, so my mind is clear as I watch my nails get removed one by one. Every inch of my skin is covered in burning hot wax. My hair and lashes are plucked off, and my organs are ground. Steel pipes are inserted into my legs, and I'm turned into a wax sculpture. Joaquin sees me during an exhibition. His colleague tells him that the wax sculpture he sees looks eerily like me, but he merely looks disgusted. "All she does is cause trouble and act unreasonably. She's better off dead." What he doesn't know is that I already am. Joaquin doesn't recognize that I'm the wax sculpture before him.

My mother despised me because I was the unintended consequence of a one-night stand. She poured all her love and attention into her students, treating them as if they were her own flesh and blood. One day, when her favourite pupil confessed his feelings for me, she flew into a rage. She slapped me hard across the face and called me a whore. Years later, as Alzheimer's clouded her mind, she forgot I even existed, yet still remembered every single one of her precious students. The irony was that not one of them ever came to visit her in the nursing home. They all loathed her just as much as I did.