Melodramatic Fools Artinya

My husband's childhood sweetheart is gravely ill. She says her only wish is to die in his arms. So, she boldly moves into our marital home. I demand an explanation for this, but my husband only snaps at me. "Why are you holding this against her when she already has one foot in the grave? Can't you be more magnanimous?" I sneer at that. Half a month later, the paparazzi catch me coming and going from Novak Group's heir's villa. My husband demands an explanation with bloodshot eyes. I imitate his previous response. "Why are you holding this against him? Can't you be more magnanimous?"

The day of the verdict, Simon—my fiancé—begged me to take the deal. "I know you're innocent, but Nancy's pregnant. I can't let her go to jail." Tears. Fake concern. "This is for your own good," he said, holding my hand. I signed it. In my last life, I refused—and paid for it with prison, torture, and infertility. This time? I played along. By morning, headlines screamed I'd stolen trade secrets. Nancy? Front and center. "Yeah, it was her. I saw her sneak into Johnston Group with my own eyes!" But when court opened that afternoon, Clark—yes, the plaintiff—stepped up and dropped the case. Then, in front of everyone, he pulled out a ring, dropped to one knee, and said, "Heidi Wynn, this time... will you marry me?"

I'm kidnapped at the same time as my husband's true love. I call him on the verge of death and beg him to save me. However, he thinks I'm putting on an act and only pays the ransom for his true love. He leaves me and his brother to die. Before hanging up, he snaps, "Drop the act, Marlena! Can't you see how terrified Sue is? I'll get even with you for hiring someone to kidnap her!" It's too bad Howard Jenne will never get even with me for this. The moment he turns his back on me and his autistic brother, the kidnappers kill us.

On my way to the bank, I stumbled across a post: [What's the most shameful thing you've done behind your partner's back?] One comment stood out: [I secretly married my first love, and my girlfriend keeps dumping money into our joint account like an idiot. She actually thinks I'm saving for a house. There's already sixty-seven grand in there. Once she hits eighty, I'm taking it all!] The flood of likes made my stomach twist. I pulled up my account balance. Sixty-seven grand. Not a penny more, not a penny less. So, my boyfriend secretly married his ex.

"Mom, Dad. I've changed my mind. I'm willing to go back to Bimern and marry Mr. Coleman, even if he's in a coma." I keep it a secret from Frederick Kirby, my boyfriend of seven years. I'm going ahead and arranging a wedding with someone else. Lennon Downey, Frederick and I grew up together. I had fallen in love with Frederick when I was a teenager, while Lennon was always like an older brother to me. We are close, and we've always been that way. That is, until the three of us went on a trip and got caught in a flash flood. Florence Cooper, the fake heiress, stole the credit for saving their lives and even lied that I left them behind to save myself. Since then, they've taken her side in everything. They've even hurt me for her. I cried, fought, and tried to explain over and over again. I thought that they would see her for who she really is one day. However, they never did. All I got in return was betrayal, again and again. I'm done. I just want to leave. I want to disappear from their lives and never, ever see them again.

The appointment of Susan Moore as the Broadcasting Channel's executive director has forced out the station's more valued news anchor, sparking heated discussions throughout Hayworth. Susan herself is standing before me right now. She wants to sell her jewelry. As the manager of a luxury boutique store, I'm here to inspect the goods. "These are pieces my partner commissioned for me. I have so many that I'm tired of them." One of them is a diamond-encrusted necklace, featuring a pigeon-blood ruby in the center, worth a few million. There are also several similar gifts on the table, with the crocodile skin bag the least eye-catching one. I smiled. "Your husband must really love you." I set about verifying the purchaser's ID and signature as part of a routine procedure. However, I freeze in place at the sight of the name. "I'm not his wife," she replied, bringing the coffee cup to her lips. "We're just each other's first loves. He said he missed out on 15 years of my life, so he gave me 15 gifts. Isn't that romantic?" It is romantic, indeed. However, it's my father's signature. For 30-plus years, I assumed that my father was a dull man who had never once surprised my mother.

My sister, Bella, had a baby in a back-alley shithole. Then she disappeared. A midwife tracked me down using an address Bella left behind. She shoved the newborn at me like a sack of garbage. My parents fell to their knees. Crying. Begging me to take her bastard. Just like that, my future as a promising artist was gone. The neighbors, the priest, my landlord… they all called me a whore. A sinner who had disgraced God. They ran me out of the neighborhood . My life was over. Eighteen years later, Bella waltzed back into my life. A cheap thug with a fake Rolex dangled from her arm. She held my son, crocodile tears streaming down her face. She called me jealous. Accused me of stealing her flesh and blood. Of keeping a mother from her child. And my son? The one I bled myself dry for? The son I poured every last cent into, turning him into a brilliant painter? The son I starved for, so much that I ended up in a hospital bed? The moment he saw his "real" mother, he cast me aside without a second thought. "You pathetic, broke bitch!" he spat. "You stole everything from us! All the happiness that was supposed to be ours!" My parents threw me out like a dog. Bella's thug husband had his men corner me in the red-light district. They pinned me against a wall, their threats vile and clear: Never come back. I had no way out. I threw myself off the Brooklyn Bridge. Then, I opened my eyes. I was back. Eighteen years in the past. Then came the knock. Hell had found my door. I wasn’t going to be the fool who gave everything and got nothing. This time, I took control.

Zachary Quinn suddenly develops a fondness for going to a massage parlor after I'm discharged from the hospital—I was in an accident. He excitedly tells me that the masseuse there has the best skills he's ever experienced. "They even have free food and fruits! I bring my laptop there with me to work when I get tired at the office." I don't know why he's telling me these things. He knows my father got caught cheating at a massage parlor. I hate those places. It's only later that I learn the relaxation he describes isn't what I imagined. He's long since gone bad in places that I can't see.

I, Cassandra Channing, don't stop my fiance, Hades Emerson, from rushing into the flames to save his non-biological niece, Olivia Emerson, this time. Instead, I watch as the fire swallows him whole. In my past life, a fire broke out at the hotel on our wedding day. Hades and I escaped in time, but Olivia was trapped inside. Seeing the flames grow bigger, I did everything I could to stop him from charging in to save her. When the fire was finally extinguished, Olivia was dead. Hades claimed he didn't blame me for the incident, and purchased diving tickets for me and our son on our third wedding anniversary. When we were 300 feet below sea level, he ripped out our oxygen tank and snarled, "You're the reason I couldn't save Olivia back then. Now, a life for a life." Crying, I begged him to understand that our son is innocent, but he swam away without looking back. In the end, my son and I suffocated to death. After dying, I learned that Hades had always been in love with Olivia. He hated me for stopping him from saving her. He blamed me for causing him to lose the love of his life. I am back on the day of the fire when I open my eyes again.

When I was eight months pregnant, my husband's foster sister invited me to hike a snow-covered mountain. Midway up, an avalanche hit. We were both buried. My husband rushed to the scene, but before I could utter a word, his sister accused me: "She planned this! She tricked me into coming today!" I tried desperately to explain. He didn't listen. Instead, he lashed out at me. "Sandra doesn't know any better, but you should! So what if she's blunt? Is this your petty revenge? Your pathetic life couldn't even begin to repay hers if she'd been hurt!" Then he left. Took her hand. Walked away. I screamed after him, begging him to save our baby. He didn't even glance back. Worse, he unhooked my safety harness and shoved me out of the rescue group. "Since you're so clever, find your own way down." Not long after, another avalanche hit. This time, I couldn't get back up. Three hours later, Sandra was in a car accident. She needed a blood transfusion. That's when he finally thought of me. But by then, he didn't know—I was already gone. Me, and the child I'd never hold, were still buried under the snow.