Luffy Photo

Tears were flowing through her cheeks from her blood shot eyes. Sniffing painfully she sat on the edge of bed. Her tears filled eyes were stuck on the shattered photo frame which she throw out of anger and pain. It was their marriage photo frame, the same photo which she used to admire once. But now, the same photo disgusts her whenever she looks at it.It sometimes the things which gives you happiness, the same things can give you pain too. Their whole room is a mess, just like her life. Wiping her tears Koushalya looked at those torn dairy pages along with few photo lying on floor , in which her husband was kissing another women. Love was visible in his eyes, sad thing is the love wasn't for her, it was for another women. Nothing can be more painful then, knowing your loved one loved Someone else more than you. She trusted him wholeheartedly, and now when she found out his secret , he lost the trust which she had on him. Koushalya, blankly stared the floor, her mind was telling her to leave him but her heart was begging her to stay. Somewhere, between her mind and heart she lost herself, her soul. Will she ever able to find her lost soul in that dark world of Sanjiv ? **** Meet Koushalya, Women with passion and broad thinking. Everything was perfect about her until she met Sanjiv, who showed her how does it feels to die slowly without letting anyone know. Somewhere between her husband Sanjiv and the fear of society she lost her own self. Will she find herself again ? -- I, Aarti Shankar welcoming you all in life of koushalya. To know further read the story and leave a review/feedback after reading it.

Yvonne Jamison wants to get married after being with Jared Ford for seven years. She prepares her own wedding dress, but he doesn't pop the question. On the day they're scheduled for a pre-marriage medical checkup, she waits for him at the hospital from day to night. Yet, he's busy throwing a celebration for his new secretary. The secretary shares a social media update and tags Yvonne in it. The update comes with a photo of a diamond ring from Jared and a suggestive caption. Yvonne doesn't cause a fuss. She likes the update, quits her job, and goes home for a blind date. Jared is unfazed. He's sure she won't actually leave him. "I'll just give her the cold shoulder for a few days to teach her a lesson. She'll be back soon enough." However, the days pass, and Yvonne doesn't return. Jared loses his cool. For the first time ever, he submits to Yvonne. "Have you had enough of this tantrum? Come back if you still want to marry me. This is your last chance!" "Mr. Ford, Ms. Jamison has already met someone else on a blind date." Later, Yvonne shares a photo of her marriage certificate on her social media. Jared, who has always been arrogant and aloof, loses his mind. He kneels outside her house in the rain for three days and nights. "Please come back to me, Yvonne!" The door opens, and a man clad in nothing but a towel around his waist emerges. He says hoarsely, "My wife has fallen asleep from her exhaustion. Please leave, Mr. Ford."

"Daddy? When are you coming home? Mommy's on the bed, and she won't wake up." Luca's voice shook, breaking up with tiny, hiccuping sobs. "If she's not getting up, wake her. She's just being lazy, " Bill barked. "Look, I'm busy. Go ask your mom if you need something, and stop calling me for every little thing!" Then he hung up, just like that. He was too busy flirting with his secretary to care. Me? Luca? We weren't even on his radar. What he didn't know was that I was already dead. But later, when reality slammed into him like a truck, he clung to my photo, sobbing and begging me not to leave. Too late.

After a wild, drunken class reunion, I woke up next to a male model. I had no clue what I was doing since it was my first time in this kind of situation. I called my best friend for help on what to do, and while the male model was still out cold, I left my wallet and bolted. When I got home, my best friend dragged me over to show me a picture of her new boyfriend. My jaw dropped. The guy in the photo was the spitting image of the man I had just left.

Three days after giving birth, my husband leaves me alone at home to care for the baby, saying that he needs to leave on an urgent business trip. Three days later, I've just arrived at the hospital when I see a family photo his childhood sweetheart has shared on her social media. It's captioned, "This was taken during a trip. We're a happy family of three." I'm surprised to see my husband grinning in the photo and comment on it with a question mark. He immediately calls me to reprimand me. "Do you know how hard it is for her as a single mother? She doesn't have a man to care for her. All I did was take a photo with her. Do you have to be so petty?" That evening, his childhood sweetheart shares a photo of some monetary gifts. "He insisted on giving me this after taking the family photo." I know my husband gave that to her to pacify her. This time, however, I'm ready to leave him.

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.

I pleaded with my husband Cedric Fleetham over and over, and finally, he agreed to take our daughter camping in the mountains for her birthday. When I found her late the next night, she was already gone. She lay at the foot of the mountain, her tiny hand still clutching a drawing of our family. As I knelt beside her, my heart shattered. Meanwhile, Cedric was busy updating his social media. His post read, [You and our daughter are my treasures,] and it was accompanied by a photo, where he stood beside his childhood sweetheart and held hands with another little girl, watching the sunset. And there, in the corner of the picture, was a tiny hand—my daughter’s hand. The cruelest truth of all was that my daughter took that photo.

I've been married to Elliot Graves, the mafia drug lord in NYC, for the past eight years. But today—on our wedding anniversary—I received a photo of him with my best friend, Lila, celebrating as if they were the ones married. And in her arms was my son, Owen. I stared at the image, then typed out two words in reply. “How perfect.” Half a hour later, Elliot stormed through the front door. His voice thundered through the hallway. “Why do you always have to be so bitchy to Lila?” Owen, my own little boy, shoved at my leg and glared. “Bad Momma,” he said. “I wish Miss Lila was my real mommy.” I didn’t flinch. I simply walked over to the drawer, pulled out the crisp stack of papers I’d long prepared, and dropped them on the table with a quiet finality. “Alright,” I said, my voice calm. “It’s all my fault. Now, can I go?”

The wedding had reached the part where we were supposed to exchange rings, but my fiance wouldn’t say those two simple words: "I do." It was because his past love had just announced her breakup an hour ago. The post on social media included a picture of a plane ticket, the landing time just one hour away. My brother suddenly stepped forward and announced to everyone that the wedding would be delayed. Without a word, they both left me standing there, turning me into a laughingstock. I calmly dealt with everything, glancing at the new social media post from his past love. In the photo, my brother and fiance were standing around her, offering her the best of everything. I laughed bitterly and dialed my parents' number. "Dad, Mom, I'm willing to come home and marry into the Sanford family."

The day Yancy Shepherd died, Benedict Page poisoned our dinner. His eyes were wild, and bloodshot, as he watched me writhe in agony. There was a madness in his gaze, but worse was the hatred, a disgust so deep it twisted his face into something unrecognizable. "If it weren't for you forcing your way into our lives, Yancy wouldn’t have died from heartbreak. You ruined us! It’s all your fault!" A photo slipped from his trembling hand and landed at my feet—Yancy at twenty, looking radiant, her smile as bright as a blooming flower. I collapsed to the ground, my strength fading fast like a rose withering in the final grasp of winter. Helpless, I waited for the darkness to claim me, consumed by despair and bitter regret. Why hadn’t I listened to the system and killed him when I had the chance? But when I opened my eyes again, everything was different. I stood watching Benedict flee our engagement ceremony. My brother moved to chase after him, but I quietly raised a hand, stopping him. This time, things would be different.