Kaze No Stigma Kazuma

A year after my divorce, my ex-husband, Harvey Fisher, pings me in a group chat. "This cold war has gone on for long enough. Come home—let's remarry." I reply, "Have you lost your mind?" Everyone in the group chat tries to convince me to take Harvey back. Meanwhile, he asks, "What have you been doing without me in your life?" I turn to look at my current husband, who's putting our child to sleep. I reply, "Recovering after having a child." The group chat members are initially excited, but they instantly fall silent at my words. Harvey angrily calls me countless times, but I ignore him. His mind is not the only thing he's lost—he's also lost the young woman who once loved him more than life itself.

On my wedding day, my best friend, Beatrice Hopper, buys a lottery ticket from a convenience store and gives it to me as a wedding gift. I initially believe that she's joking, but when I see the unmistakable disdain in her eyes, I know something is off. "They say it's the thought that counts. This gift is precisely how I show that I care. Besides, I'm pregnant and need money for everything right now. I don't want you to feel bad about taking my money," she says. Honestly, I'm disappointed. But since it's my wedding, I can only stand there and watch as my best friend drags her entire family to the reception for free food and drinks. As expected, the wedding ends on a sour note. The two of us part ways unhappily. What I don't see coming, though, is winning 50 million dollars in the lottery that night. Elated, I tell my husband the news, and we head to the lottery office first thing in the morning to claim the prize. The news quickly spreads among our friends and family. But by the afternoon, Beatrice pounds on my door, demanding I return the lottery ticket. "I should've been the winner!" she screamed. "I was the one who bought it, so why should you take away my prize?" I keep backing away from her, panic flooding my entire body, so much so that I don't even notice she's holding a knife. The last thing I expect is for her to swing it at me in the middle of our struggle. By the time I realize what's happening, the blade is already buried in my husband's chest. I try to call the police, but Beatrice yanks me back. We grapple, stumble, and crash through the floor-to-ceiling windows. Eventually, we fall to our deaths in the courtyard below. The universe must've had mercy on me because when I open my eyes again, I'm back at the moment she hands me that lottery ticket. Here comes my second chance.

Every year, the village had to choose a girl of age to become the Blossom Bride. The girl who was chosen would be sent into the cave as the village god’s wife. She would spend the entire night with him. If she came out alive, she would be honored for the rest of her life as a village elder. Any child she bore was said to be blessed, destined for a life of effortless fortune. If she died, the village would simply wait for the next year, when another Blossom Bride would be chosen. The blessing of the Blossom Bride was believed to pass on to her parents and elders as well. However, no one wanted to be chosen. To escape the ritual, families quietly left the village, one after another. I was the only one who volunteered. I had a lust problem, and I had always wondered what it would feel like to be with a god.

I had moved out of our house, but my boyfriend—the one I had given up everything to run away with—had no idea. Neither did his possessive younger brother, the one who used to knock on my door calling for me. My boyfriend's first love had taken up all their attention. They no longer listened when I played the piano. They even forgot about my cat fur allergy and brought that woman's cat home. My boyfriend, Ian Blake, had snapped, "If anyone's leaving, it's you. There's no way Eva's cat is going anywhere." His brother, Sebastian, had said, "Sienna, Eva is my girlfriend. How could I give up her cat for you?" When I woke up in the hospital after going into anaphylactic shock from my allergy, I decided to leave them. Back home, I made my first call to my mother. "Mom, I'm ready to accept the arranged marriage."

"I always thought I had found the perf 'Once she gives birth, I’ll divorce her.' 'When I have sex with her, I cover her head with a pillow because the other side of the pillow has your picture It turns out, I was just surrogate tool, and all his affection was fake. So, I When I started a new life, Gu Songqian came knocking on my door: 'Actually, I love both of you equally. From now on, you’ll live on the west side, and she’ll live on the east side, and you won’t disturb each other.'"

I run into a group of rogues on my way home for my daughter's birthday. I call my wife for help, but she blocks my number. I'm dragged out of the car, stabbed a dozen times, and thrown into the bushes to die. My neck is broken, and my organs are spilling out of my body. The rogues think I'm going to die—they even mention each other's names before me. Then, they drive off in my car while whistling happily. I hold onto my head and organs as I crawl to the roadside, hoping against hope that someone will save me. Before I'm taken to the hospital, I see my wife's social media update—she and her secretary have taken a sweet photo together while celebrating our daughter's birthday. The first thing I do after being discharged is demand a divorce.

On my birthday, I personally prepare 16 dishes. After setting up the candlelight, I open a bottle of red wine. I take a photo and send it to my husband, Eric Sinclair. "I'm working late tonight. Don't wait for me," he replies. I choose to believe him. But after midnight, I notice an Instagram story posted by Shirley Huxley, his secretary. Eric was there with her, dressed in the trench coat I once gave him. They sat side by side in the VIP seat of football stadium where my favorite Super Bowl take place. Entwined in a passionate embrace, they kissed beneath a sea of shimmering lights and the roar of thousands of fans. That game is the one I have always longed to experience with him. I look down at the cold food on the table. Eric's words keep ringing in my head. "I hate kissing." "Marriage is a partnership, not about love and kisses." Though we've been married for ten years, we've never shared a single kiss. Meanwhile, he's out there, kissing Shirley openly and passionately. Despite it all, not a single tear falls from my eyes. The next day, Eric settles into his chair, completely unfazed. "Return the gallery to Shelly," he commands. I nod quietly, saying nothing. Suddenly, Layla Sinclair, my daughter, comes running down the stairs and throws herself into Shirley's arms. "Aunt Shirley, you're my favorite. I don't like Mom!" In that instant, it hits me—the home I devoted my heart and soul to means nothing anymore. It doesn't matter that I've been married to Eric for a decade. Now, all I want is to find myself again. I decide to accept an invitation from the Parisoir School of Fashion Design. From this moment on, I won't wait for them to come home, and I won't look back.

When the ruthless heir of a crime syndicate comes to collect an old debt, Jade's world shatters. His father owes money he can't repay, and his desperate solution is unthinkable. He offers Jade's underaged sister as a bride to the merciless Salvatore Domenico. But Jade won't let his sister be sacrificed. Instead, he steps forward, offering himself in her place. What Jade doesn't know is that Salvatore has been waiting for this moment. Years ago, Jade's powerful family branded Salvatore's father a traitor and had him killed. Now, Salvatore has returned, not for money, but for revenge. Taking Jade into his world of blood, loyalty, and violence should have been the perfect punishment. Yet, the closer Salvatore draws him into the shadows, the more the line between vengeance and desire blurs. Revenge was supposed to be sweet. But Jade tastes like something far more dangerous.

On day ten of our cold war, Barry posted a pic—him and Lyla, locked in a kiss. His 'one true love.' I sent in my study abroad application without a word. At our grad party, he strolled in with Lyla, fingers laced with hers, looking at her with all his affection. A friend hesitated. "But what about Amelia? She loves you. You guys are getting married." Barry smirked. "She was just a stand-in. Now that Lyla's back, my fiancée should change too." So I slipped off the ring, handed it over, and disappeared. And he lost it. Tore through everything trying to find me. Years later, he finally did. Saw me with my husband, picking out baby supplies. His eyes went red. "Amelia, come back with me. Please?"

After Isabella is kicked out of her own home by her scheming stepmother and stepsister, she's left feeling lost and betrayed, with even her ex-fiancé turning his back on her. But fate throws her a curveball when she comes across an injured stranger and reluctantly decides to shelter him. Little does Isabella know, this Mr. Vagrant is a big shot in the city. But... this man she saved loved spending money so much that she almost went broke!