Left On Read

This is the story of a girl who’s fantasies and traumas begin to blend with her reality till the lines become so blurred she’s not sure which one is actually the reality

When you're on the brink of death, does humanity still exist? Clementia must learn to trust people again after surviving a blocked elevator into a zombie apocalypse or risk losing everything in this horrific world. Every day for Clementia over the last two years has been a haze. She keeps her head down, hangs out with the folks she despises the most, and only leaves the house to work at her required internship. But everything changes the day the workplace elevator breaks down, trapping her as the screaming begins. When the doors eventually open, revealing a dystopian world ravaged by bleeding fangs and sickness, Clementia is thrust into a horrifying race for her life, stuck between strangers she's not sure she can trust and man-eating creatures hungry for her flesh. With that, she realized that the whole city was filled by those monsters. And she is now forced to flee for her life, and she must learn not only how to live in this new and frightening environment, but also how to fight her own inner demons before they lose her something more valuable than her life. But then she met Justine, the one who would help her live in this chaotic life, and together they will fight in a world where a virus has spread, turning the majority of the people into flesh-eating monsters, as they both connote safety and unity.

On our wedding night, my wife demanded that I wear a blindfold. She said her body was meant only for her true love. The words hit me like a bucket of ice water, and I snapped, "Are you my wife or his?" She shot back even louder, defiance blazing in her eyes. "I married you. Does that mean I have to show you my body? Coercion is still coercion, even in marriage. My body is only for Matt to see because you simply don't deserve it." Later, she said she wanted to truly be my wife. I found myself thinking she wasn't worthy anymore.

George Sunther doesn't show up on the day we're supposed to get engaged. His family is nowhere to be seen either. Mom's and Dad's faces become increasingly darker as our relatives whisper disapprovingly. I'm about to contact George when I see a social media update from Winona Sunther, the Sunther family's adopted daughter. "From today onward, we're siblings and also spouses." A photo of her and George decked out in wedding attire while holding each other close is attached. Later, I find George, and he says guiltily, "Winnie is pregnant out of wedlock, and her boyfriend has made a run for it. I have to marry her first so that her reputation remains untainted. It's all so she can have the baby without any hitches." I'm stunned. The invitations for our wedding have already been sent out! George wraps an arm around my waist, his tone as gentle as always. "I'll marry you once the baby is born, okay? You're the only woman I'll call my wife, Mary. You have to trust me." I look into his eyes, which I had once loved with all my heart. My heart twists painfully. He's always like this. He always tells me I have to be more tolerant and magnanimous when it comes to Winona because she's his sister. I watch as he leaves in a hurry after answering a call from Winona. Then, I stop hesitating and call my parents. "Mom, is the Zowski family still up for a wedding?"

A homecoming banquet was organized for my wealthy boyfriend’s first love. At the banquet, he forced me to drink an entire glass of Whisky, even though I was pregnant, just to make his first love happy. My abdomen was in excruciating pain, and blood was seeping through my white dress. He kissed his first love in front of me as his friends cheered him on. As I was losing consciousness, I heard a cold remark. “Ignore her. She’s just a mistress. She won’t be able to live without me.” When I woke up in the hospital, I caressed my flat stomach and wanted to send him a photo of the medical report detailing my miscarriage. However, I realized that his profile picture had been changed to a photo of his first love’s side profile. He even blocked me again. However, this time, I did not beg him as I had in the past. Instead, I booked a flight ticket to leave the country.

I was a semi-retired actress, joining a divorce reality show with my billionaire husband. "I want a divorce." Facing the camera, I spoke calmly. Off-camera, Hector Sinclair frowned as he reviewed the scene with me. "You need to show more emotion when you say it. That’s what will get people talking, stir up discussion, and drive the views. "Otherwise, who’s going to believe you really want to divorce me? They’ll just think you’re acting again. “Use your head. I can’t guide you every step of the way." Yeah. To outsiders, I was nothing more than a pretty face—vain, shallow, and talentless. Meanwhile, he was a shrewd and cultured businessman, commanding a fortune worth billion. No one believed I would willingly give up the title of Mrs. Sinclair, not even Hector himself. However, he had no idea that this time, I meant it.

To save Zander Lewis, I lost the ability to walk. As a result, my dream of dancing was shattered forever. Yet, Zander went on to marry Jenna Walsh—the same woman who stole my spot in the dance program. The betrayal cut so deep that I suffered from severe depression. That was when Jenna's uncle in name, Sean Walsh, appeared and pulled me out of the darkness. He stayed by my side for a long time, helping me heal and even working tirelessly to treat my legs.   Just when I thought I could stand on my own again, I discovered the awful truth—it had all been part of his and Zander's plan. They never wanted me to reclaim my place; they wanted to ensure Jenna's glory remained untouched. They were even planning to use the same ruthless methods to make sure I could never walk again. My heart shattered as I watched them, two despicable men plotting everything for Jenna's sake. At that moment, I gave up on love completely. I did not scream or cry. I simply played along, letting them believe I was still trapped in their game. When I finally broke free from that deceitful marriage, he came after me, begging in tears for another chance. 

In the second year of our marriage, which Brett Mason had secured through relentless means, he brought home his latest conquest—a stunning blonde. As the door swung shut, he ran his fingers through her silky hair, flashing me a smug, triumphant grin. "Wanna join us? You might learn a thing or two about not being such a dead fish." I could still recall how he once adored my hair, claiming that just stroking it would melt away his deepest worries. It turned out any woman could serve that purpose. In that instant, a profound sense of release washed over me. I retrieved the divorce agreement I'd stashed away in a drawer and handed it to him. "Sign it, and I'll make room for her." My days were numbered, and I had no intention of wasting what little time remained entangled in his resentment.

On my wedding night, Sean Boswell was with his first love when I suffered a miscarriage as my kidnappers tortured me. I begged endlessly for him to save me, only for him to laugh, "You were just demanding a divorce in the morning, and now you're faking a kidnapping so that I'd come back? Is that the only thing you can do?" Eventually, when I gave up and stopped clinging on being Mrs. Boswell, he chased me to the airport, pleading with a crack in his voice, "Just stay, Anna. Let's make things how it used to be."

After four years of marriage, James Lawson, who had never posted anything on social media, unexpectedly updated his status: "What an adorable little foodie!" The attached photo showed a young woman wearing pink cat ears, eating at a Korean BBQ restaurant. Her cheeks were flushed red from the spicy food as she stuck out her tongue. It was Sophie Jones, a new content creator at his company. Within a minute, our mutual friend commented: "Dude, you forgot to switch accounts!" Just like that, James's new post disappeared as quickly as it had appeared, only to show up moments later on Sophie's feed. Then James's name lit up my phone screen. In the past, I would have already taken screenshots and called him first to confront him. It would have inevitably ended in a heated argument. But this time, I calmly watched his call go to voicemail without answering.