Monster How Do I Feel

I buried him myself. I stood at his grave with dirt on my hands and grief in my throat as I said goodbye to the only man I ever thought I would love. Kael was my betrothed, my mate, the boy who grew up beside me and became the person I built every future around. When the war took him it did not just take him — it took every version of myself that existed because of him. Years passed. The moon goddess, in her mercy, gave me something I never asked for — a second chance. Rowan was not supposed to happen. He was patient where I was resistant, steady where I was broken, and present in every way I had convinced myself no one would ever be again. I did not want to love him. And then I did not know how to stop. I was finally learning what it meant to choose life again. When Kael walked back through my door. Alive. Unchanged. And completely unable to explain where he had been. Now I am torn between a love that was written into my soul before I was old enough to understand what souls were, and a man who chose me quietly and completely when I had nothing left to offer. The elders say this is not a reverse harem blessing. There is no keeping both. I have to choose. But how do you bury someone you love twice?

Seavora City, Carmoria. Nathan Ziegler's side chick, Sophie, was melting down—again. He shoved the divorce papers at me. "Just sign. It's for show. Gotta keep her calm." I clutched my dress, gave a small nod, and signed. No fuss. No scene. As I turned to leave, one of his buddies snorted, "Joelle's way too obedient. Bet she'd fetch the divorce decree if you asked." Nathan lit a cigarette, smirking. "Wanna bet?" To them, I was still the silent pushover. The girl who'd cry in court but still do what she's told. Trade one paper for another—marriage for divorce. I stared at my phone. The message I'd received earlier: [Why don't you just marry me?] I typed back: [Okay.]

Our bodies tangled in the car. My husband moved inside me, lips claiming my chest, when the sudden ring of a phone ripped me out of our intoxicating haze. Gabriel answered without hesitation. It was one of his closest friends from the medical world, speaking in German. “Don,” the voice said casually, “your mistress is two months pregnant. What are you going to do?” Gabriel didn’t pause. His tone was calm. “Grace can’t have children,” he replied. “I’ll let her carry the baby to term, then adopt it as my own. That secures the heir. This stays between us.” Something inside me froze. The one thing he had forgotten— I majored in German. And he learned it just to win me. I didn’t scream. I didn’t confront him. Instead, I smiled, stayed quiet, and kept playing the perfect wife. Later, I slipped the divorce papers into a real estate contract and watched him sign without reading. Then I quietly registered a new identity. For the next three days, his absence—and her taunting messages—erased the last illusions I had about love. When my new identity finally went live, I walked away without looking back. Carrying his child. And disappearing from his world forever.

After failing the mission, the System gave me one final chance, and to succeed, I had to give birth to a child. The System promised that if the baby were born safely, it would reveal the truth to my target and give me one last glimmer of hope. However, six months into my pregnancy, just when things seemed stable, I was dragged onto an operating table in the middle of the night by my husband and family. My husband stopped the anesthesiologist from giving me any pain relief. “Let her feel the pain,” he said coldly. “We need to keep the kidneys as fresh as possible.” My parents instructed the doctor to draw my blood. “She’s the same blood type as our precious girl. Let’s take some for backup.” Even my childhood friend, the boy who had always been by my side, was the one to slice open my abdomen.  They wanted my kidneys to save my sister, who was dying from kidney failure. No one believed I was pregnant. No matter how much I begged, they went ahead with the operation, tearing me open. The baby couldn’t survive, and I died on that operating table. However, as my soul began to fade away, something strange happened. Those who had murdered me—my husband, my parents, my so-called friend—they all lost their minds.

She could remember people through their smells, their voices, their accents, their everyday choices of words or through how they feel against her touch. That's exactly the meaning of socializing and making friends for someone like Meredith Kaye Santiago, a person who was suffering with prosopagnosia. To someone who couldn't remember anyone's face, dating was a no-no. She couldn't risk her heart to someone her eyes couldn't remember and her brain couldn't retain. But one night, she found herself caught up under the body of a stranger, and he's taking off her clothes. The stranger’s name was Rupert Santos, the Vulture’s vocalist and a guy with piercing on his bottom lip. She let him go all the way after he said, “Surrender your sensations”. Love hit her hard. That’s when his blurry face became clearer. And finally, she said, “I see you, Rockstar.”

Ethan Miller was the hottest guy in Greenville High School. Girls loved him, guys wanted to be him. He just had one problem, Corey Price. Corey Price was the complete opposite of Ethan. Ethan did not like his lingering looks and admiring glances. It made him furious. Corey was the bane of his existence. Ethan's solution was to beat and torment Corey and make his school days unbearable. Corey's wounds never healed. His fondness of Ethan turned into hatred and he vowed to never forgive him. But, he spent years working on himself and has emerged a stronger, better person, ready to take on new challenges. Finally confident, he's about to take on a new job. Until he discovered who his new boss was. It was none other than the monster himself. Ethan Miller

At our wedding, my wife's assistant "accidentally" uploaded the wrong photo. The big screen was supposed to display our wedding portraits. Instead, it was a picture of my wife and him in full wedding attire. Their fingers were laced together, their eyes locked in a soft, intimate gaze, looking every bit like a blissfully happy couple. The entire venue erupted in shocked whispers. The assistant froze in shock, acting like he had no idea why he was in the photo. He started panicking, asking if we should just postpone the ceremony. My wife, however, stayed surprisingly calm. She whispered her solution, “Everyone’s here. Postponing now would be humiliating and, honestly, a bad omen. Beside, most people here don’t even know what the groom looks like. Why don’t we just let him stand in for you?” Our friends were dumbfounded. They all thought I’d explode in anger and jealousy after hearing something so outrageous. Instead, I nodded, saying it was actually a great idea. Seeing how composed I remained, my wife looked pleased with herself. She told me that since we were legally married anyway, she’d make it up to me later with another ceremony. However, she seemed to have forgotten one thing: she had just signed the divorce papers.

Everyone said my good looks were what saved me from my family's downfall. It was how I managed to become a Donna. I was the only one who knew why he had to compromise to marry me. Xavier Whitmore, the tall and handsome Don, was unable to have physical relationships with a woman. When I shyly took off the gown on our wedding night, he sat in his chair and lit a cigarette before remarking in an icy voice, "I'm allergic to women. That said, you have my word that you will be the only woman in my life." He kept his promise. Though he never so much as touched me in the five years of our marriage, he provided me with a life of luxury and wealth. Although it was merely a title, being his only woman brought me happiness. Everything changed on the day my men and I were ambushed by a rival mafia family. We barely made it out alive. When I returned home, I found him locked in a tight embrace with his widowed sister-in-law, Alice Ortega. "Alice, I won't let you remarry. If you do, I'll make sure that man dies a thousand deaths." I scoffed. It wasn't so much that he couldn't handle being physical with a woman. It was simply that he could not be physical with anyone but her. In that case, she could have the pleasure of being the Donna.

All it took was a gunshot to have this criminal fucking me senseless. I'd spent months trying to bring down Antonio, the criminal I swore to put behind bars. I even set a trap for him, using someone close as bait. But instead of going down in chains, Antonio offered himself to me, in exchange for freedom. I should have said no, I should have followed the mission. But as a lonely divorcee craving warmth, how could I resist the way he touched me? The way his fingers made me forget the rules I live by? This wasn't the plan. My boss didn't send me here to get addicted to my enemy. Yet every secret night with Antonio leaves me wanting more, and drags me deeper into his dangerous world. He's supposed to die for his crimes, but unfortunately, the real crime is how badly I want him. And if the news gets out, I won't just lose my job– I'll lose my life.

I failed my university's mandatory physical education class, but I didn't want to go for the training. Uncle Grant came and helped me, but I only did a few squats, and I could already feel my chest hurting so much. I fell right into Uncle Grant's arms, and I said, "No, I can't do this, Uncle Grant… Do you have any sports bras…?" My uncle's breathing became rapid, and he said, "Let me help you, Carmen." I didn't expect that the way he helped me was to use his hands to correct my posture from the front. As he squatted alongside me, it was only getting faster…