Romans & histoires Lightning Thief Author

When my wife, Hazel Zimmerman, is diagnosed with a terminal disease, she insists on divorcing me just to set me free. I refuse to do so. Instead, I travel all over the world to seek doctors and treatment remedies in hopes of finding Hazel a cure. I keep going at it until I start vomiting blood from exhaustion. But as soon as I reach home, I overhear Hazel bragging to her best friend smugly. "Brandon, that idiot, actually thinks that I really have cancer! I just wanted to use this excuse to divorce him so I could go on a world trip with Nathan. "Once I've had my fun, I'll claim that I'm cured of my disease. Then, I'll remarry Brandon again." "Do you really think Brandon will believe your excuse?" the best friend asks. Hazel just sneers in disdain. "That idiot loves me so much that he can't live without me. Ever since he found out that I have cancer, he's been crying his eyes out. What can he tell, anyway?" When Hazel brings up divorce once again, I don't hesitate to accept it this time.

There was a ten-year gap between me and my sister-in-law, but we got along surprisingly well, especially given that we were both in an absurdly rich family. Then, one day, she came to me, bawling and clutching a photo in her hand. "Your brother is cheating on me! He has a family somewhere else! For more than ten years! I'm getting a divorce!" Crying, I showed her a message I got from my husband's mistress. "That bastard Christopher has a mistress! I'm leaving this home!"

At six months pregnant, I joined a moms’ group chat to learn parenting tips from other mothers, and one of them couldn’t resist showing off. "I’m so jealous of you guys, getting to cuddle your babies all day. Not like me—I'm handing mine off to a free nanny right after giving birth!" 'Free nanny? Since when are nannies free?' I tapped on her profile picture—and the sight of that hand draped over her shoulder made cold sweat run down my back.

On my birthday, my husband of five years accompanied his childhood sweetheart to celebrate her dog's birthday. Avery Simpson published a loving post: [The happiest baby in the world. Mom and Dad will be with you. I hope you're always happy.] Seeing the words "Mom and Dad", I commented a question mark with confusion. The next moment, I found myself blocked. Charles Logan called me and lashed out at me. "Why do you always have to mess things up at the worse possible time? You're worse than a dog. How despicable!" Shortly after, Avery changed her profile picture to one of her and Charles, hands intertwined. When I saw the obvious provocation, I didn't get angry like before. That's because I had already made up my mind to get a divorce.

My husband and I have been legally married for five years. This is the tenth time he's canceled our wedding ceremony. This time? His student, Laura, is competing in her first international violin competition—and he 'needs' to be there. I still remember the last cancellation: an awards ceremony he had to attend with her. The time before that? She fell ill, and he stayed at her hospital bedside. The other times? I've lost count of the excuses, but it doesn't matter. The reason is always Laura. Her needs always outweighed my wedding. My marriage. My life. Fine. If he wanted to stand by Laura so badly, he could stay there forever. This hollow, five-year farce of a marriage? It's over.

The Sutton heir was using a wheel of fortune to pick a wife. In my last life, the wheel landed on me. On my wedding day, the woman he had loved his whole life threw herself off a cliff into the sea. That was when I learned. Fifteen years of him chasing me had been about getting her to look back at him. There were thirty-six other names on that wheel. All of them were there to push her into a corner. After she went, he came apart. "I only wanted to make you jealous. Why would you leave me like this?" He blamed all of it on me. He took apart what was left of my body with his own hands. In my last minutes I saw her come back, untouched, and tell him it had only been a test. They held each other and kissed. I went into a jar nobody noticed. When I opened my eyes again, I was back at the day of the wheel.

My fiancee was diagnosed with cancer and needed a liver transplant. When I found out I'm a match, I agreed to undergo the surgery without a second thought. They removed two-thirds of my liver. The pain is excruciating, but the moment I wake up, I force myself to check on her. Outside her hospital room, I overhear her talking to a friend. "Trish, you're a genius! This revenge plan is brilliant!" her friend exclaims. Patricia Zeller laughs. "If I weren't trying to keep it low-key, I would've taken a kidney just for fun. It's all his fault that Warren messed up his college entrance exam and had to study abroad. Warren's coming back in a month. Once he does, I'm done with him for good."

The day I'm promoted, my mother gets on her knees and begs me for a monthly allowance of 500 dollars to cover her living expenses. Yet I refuse without any hesitation. Left with no choice, she gets an influencer to put me on blast. "I only need 500 dollars a month. 50 packs of plain pasta can last me two months, and I can grow some vegetables to save on groceries. "I'll even split my high blood pressure pills in half to make them last. Please. I raised you. You can't just abandon me now that I'm old!" On camera, my expression remains cold as I shoot her down. "I've got money, but I'd rather spend that money on dog food than give it to you. And that's because you don't deserve a single cent!"

After I get detained in the police station, my husband, Gavin Pratt, specifically comes over to bail me out. But I grip a policeman's arm without letting go. "I'm the one who did it! Hurry up and arrest me!" In my previous life, I was surrounded by the family members of a car crash victim. A bar owner and a saleswoman who sold cosmetics were there as well. They claimed that I had gone into a drunken frenzy and stole perfume from the store. On top of that, I even ran a red light and hit someone with my car. I kept explaining the truth to everyone, yet no one believed me. Instead, they all had me surrounded and beat me up till I died. When I wake up again, I've returned to the day I'm detained inside the police station.

On New Year's Eve, I prepare a feast. The clock strikes twelve, but my husband, Vincent Porter, still isn't home. My daughter, Lorelei Porter, tugs at my sleeve and holds up my phone. "Look Mommy, Daddy is at this lady's house!" Vincent has posted an update on Twitter. He is with Christine Snow, his childhood sweetheart. They are smiling at the camera, with a boy who looks about ten standing between them. In front of them sits a swan-shaped cake. The caption reads, "The most special day for the most special you." My heart sinks into my stomach. A marriage that came later in life can never compete with a pair of childhood sweethearts. I accept defeat.