Manga Against The Gods

Shawn Hansen, Wigston's most notorious playboy, always has a thing for dazzling women. This time, his eyes are set on Carrie Myers, my fiance Harvey Anderson's close friend. And now, he decides to marry her on the same day as my wedding. When I go to Harvey to discuss the wedding details, I walk in on him holding Carrie and promising, "Don't worry. I'll marry you. Our churches are side by side, and with your face hidden under the veil, I'll swap you in for her. No one will ever notice." Carrie sobbed, her voice filled with concern. "Angelina is clever. She will undoubtedly notice something is wrong." He kisses her forehead gently and comforts her, "I'll drug her so she won't be able to think straight or resist." Only then does she relax, yet she asks curiously, "You really don't mind letting her marry Shawn?" Harvey thinks seriously before replying, "I love you and must marry you first. Shawn is my good friend, so even if he marries her, he wouldn't touch her. I'll bring her back once he realizes the bride has been switched. By then, the two of you can serve me together." I can't bear to listen any longer, and I turn to leave with a broken heart. Despite the sorrow, I am determined to become Shawn's wife.

The train to Centraford was about to depart. That was the ride we'd spent our entire life savings—30 thousand bucks—to get a ticket for. I was gripping my mate, Byron Reynolds's, hand tightly, trying to pull him onto the last train to Centraford. This was the chance I'd waited three long years for. Once we entered Centraford, we could rise from being low-tier civilian werewolves to official Silvren Talons workers—registered, salaried, and numbered. If we missed this train, we'd be stuck forever in Sidersville, a chaotic melting pot, never able to enter the heart of the werewolf city-state. But Byron held us back, refusing to leave without Lisa Peters, who was still down by the river, washing her face. In the very last second before the train took off, I had our friends forcibly drag Byron aboard. We made it to Centraford and became Silvren Talons workers. But Lisa missed her chance. She was left behind in Sidersville and became a rogue, a plaything passed around by countless men. A few years later, she was tortured to death. Byron looked fine on the surface. But on the day of our marking ceremony, he drove a silver blade into my stomach, killing the pup growing inside me, and tore out my heart. His eyes burned red as he growled through clenched teeth, "This is all your fault. You're the reason Lisa never made it to Centraford. "She suffered so much before she died. Why do you get to be happy?" After killing me, he chopped my body up and fed it to the stray dogs. Then I opened my eyes—and found myself right back at the train station, before it departed. This time, I'd wait with him for the woman he loved so much. And I'd make him pay for everything he did to me and my pup.

My husband has azoospermia. After trying all the options available, I finally conceived. However, my husband is worried my child will hurt his first love's feelings—she had a miscarriage. He tricks me into going for a prenatal checkup. In truth, he conspires with a doctor to induce labor when I'm only five months along. He says, "You must be the one with the problem. Why else is it so hard for us to have children? The baby won't be healthy even if it's born! We can have more children when you're healthier. Julie has just had a miscarriage; I don't want to aggravate her." He doesn't know he has azoospermia. I only managed to conceive this child after trying out IVF countless times and taking countless folk remedies. He will never have a child of his own in this lifetime, and I discover his true colors. I ask for a divorce, and that's when he loses his mind.

I started calling my brother "Mr. Quinn" and my childhood friend "Mr. Webb". They frown and ask why I'm being so formal with them. I smile faintly in response. "Because I think you would rather be associated with Vanessa Quinn." They scold me for being unreasonable. "Vanessa is about to marry a man in a coma for you, and her whole life will be ruined. The only reason we treat her so well is because you owe her." But what they don't know is that the one marrying a man in a coma this time isn't Vanessa. It's me—Willow Quinn.

I'd been married to my lawyer husband for eight years. In all that time, he never once acknowledged me as his wife in public. He wouldn't even let our daughter call him "Dad." Again and again, he missed out on her childhood because of his childhood sweetheart. Even when she hurt our daughter, he still forgave her. I was worn out and empty. So I decided to leave. I took our daughter and vanished from his world. But he refused the divorce. He started searching for us like a madman, turning the whole world upside down. Only this time, neither my daughter nor I will be looking back.

My CEO husband bribed the doctor to take the heart that was meant for our daughter and give it to his childhood sweetheart’s daughter instead. That same day, my daughter suffered a heart attack and died in my arms. Meanwhile, his sweetheart’s daughter’s surgery was a success. My husband was so overjoyed that he gave bonuses to the entire company. My rage and grief were too much—I coughed up blood on the spot. The doctor later confirmed my worst fear: I was already in the late stages of leukemia. I didn’t have much time left. Holding my daughter’s urn, I wandered home in a daze. My husband? He took his childhood sweetheart and her daughter on a trip around the world to celebrate a new life.

At sixty-five, I got served divorce papers. The same day, my husband Sebastian — decked out in his wedding suit, of all things — popped a handful of sleeping pills in a suicide attempt. For years, we were the perfect couple. The kind of pair neighbors whispered about with envy. I couldn't wrap my head around it. The divorce. The pills. None of it made sense. Not until I found the photo and letter in his pocket.

Even after a full decade of marriage, my husband Rudolf and I were as deeply in love as the day we wed—an enviable couple in the eyes of all. On the day of our anniversary, I saw him lifting a little boy into his arms right outside the entrance of our neighborhood. "Daddy! Can you take me to the amusement park this time?" The boy's words were enough to stop me dead in my tracks. I instinctively hid around a corner. "Of course! I'll even take you on a trip." Rudolf smiled warmly and kissed the boy on the forehead. In that instant, something seemed to have been set off in my head, as if years of trust had been shattered at that one moment. Daddy? Upon closer examination, I realized that the boy's features were remarkably similar to Rudolf's. No one could deny they were blood-related. "Your dad's busy with work, sweetheart. Don't cling to him too much," said a beautiful woman standing next to the boy. The cruel moment before me made it clear. The man who swore he would love me forever had been cheating all along.

My fiancé was the CEO of a powerful financial conglomerate, and to the outside world, he adored me beyond measure. A week before our wedding, I found out I was pregnant with triplets. I had planned to tell him the joyful news in person. But instead, I witnessed him in bed with other women. Not with just one. It felt like a knife had carved into my soul, cutting so deep I lost all hope, all trust. My tears begged for release, but I held my head high, forcing myself to stay strong. For him, I had given up everything—my pride, my family, my career. Yet he chose to share our love with others. All those vows to love me and only me for a lifetime had been lies. Our so-called future, our wedding—it was all a cruel joke. He was no longer the man I once loved. He had become tainted. I would not endure his betrayal. He no longer deserved to be the father of my children. So I made my decision—to disappear, to fake my death and start over, to give myself and my babies a chance at a free, unburdened life. But I never imagined he'd become obsessed and start searching the world for women who resembled me, all while declaring I was the only one he ever loved. Too little, too late. His affection now is worth nothing. This time, I'm not looking back.

My husband, Francis Zouche, thought we weren't well-off and could not afford to raise a child. So, he forcibly took me to the hospital to get an abortion. Right after the surgery, I discovered that he had transfered 200 thousand dollars to his first love, Heidi Colman, for her birthday. Out of pure rage, I got into a huge fight with him in the car, which led to an accident that killed us both. When I opened my eyes, we had returned to the day before our wedding. In our previous life, we were married for ten years. We weathered storms and supported each other, but Francis never wanted us to have a child of our own. On the day I died, I finally understood that the one he loved was Heidi. After getting a second shot at life, I decided to fulfill his wish. We canceled the wedding, blocked each other's phone numbers, and never contacted each other again. Eight years later, Francis became a top lawyer in Alvren and publicly proposed to Heidi at a law forum. Seeing that I was still single, he mocked me with a sneer, "Yvette, I know you loved me for two lifetimes. But I am getting married now. Don't keep waiting for me to come back to you." I glanced at him wordlessly and bent down to pick up my daughter before walking away. As a shocking realization hit him, his eyes reddened. He questioned furiously, "Didn't you promise to love me forever and to only give birth to my children?"