Novel & Cerita My Dog Is Trembling And Throwing Up

When I open my eyes again, I notice that I'm lying on the bed of my archnemesis, Ashton Ford. Ashton calmly puts on his clothes before tossing a card at me, telling me to get out. He then looks at the caretaker stationed by the door and asks helplessly, "Is Sunny still throwing a tantrum? Tell her that we're going to be engaged soon. She can't leave women in my bed just because she's angry." I'm about to say something when a stream of comments appears before my eyes. "Here comes another one hoping to sleep her way into a prestigious position. Mr. Ford only loves Sunny. If she didn't comfort him, he might have taken his own life after what happened to Elizabeth a long time ago." "Can the author stop trying to force these flings onto him? It wasn't easy for Sunny to achieve success after taking over as the female lead. I want to see them live a sweet married life." "Unless Mr. Ford's dead first love, Elizabeth Miller, comes back to life, no one can possibly touch Sunny's position in Mr. Ford's heart." Confusion is written all over my face. I'm Elizabeth Miller. Since when did I become Ashton's first love?

My in-laws were old-fashioned. They insisted that spending New Year's in their hometown was a must for a smooth year ahead. We could not get train tickets, so we decided to drive back. When my wife’s first love heard about it, he insisted on coming with us. He even brazenly took the front passenger seat from me. “Charles, I get carsick easily. I can only sit in the front.” Evan shot me a disdainful look. "It's just a seat. Why are you being so touchy?" “If you knew how to drive, would this even be an issue?” My in-laws chimed in as well. “You’re a grown man. Why are you making such a fuss over something so small?” Outnumbered, I had no choice but to squeeze into the back seat with my in-laws. Then, when we were passing a toll booth, Yvonne spotted a stray dog and was suddenly overcome with compassion. “That poor dog. Let’s bring it home with us.” I immediately objected, “The car is already full. If we bring a dog too, we’ll be over the limit. We won’t even be allowed on the road.” Before I had even finished speaking, Evan turned on me without hesitation. “Charles, in that case, why don’t you give up your seat for the dog? You can just take a cab back!”

Everyone knows that I'm the woman whom Oliver Reed, the richest man in Jeston, loves the most. Ever since I get pregnant, Oliver dotes on me even more and obeys every whim I have. One day, I realize that I've gotten kidnapped to an auction house after waking up from my nap. To my horror, my husband and his friend group can be seen sitting beneath the stage. Someone says with a grin, "Hey Oliver, how is it that you have time to bring Caroline to the hangout with you today? Everyone keeps claiming that Alexandra has you wrapped around her little finger now that she's pregnant." Oliver looks at the woman next to him. While he looks relatively exasperated, he still says dotingly, "I've been spending so much time with Alexandra that Caroline is already mad at me. Today, I managed to block out some time in my schedule to spend time with her." I do my best to squirm and struggle so that I can seek help from Oliver. Finally, I'm able to attract his attention. But he slowly lifts his bidding card while saying, "Number 7 keeps squirming, so she must be a slutty one. Here's one million dollars—I want her to be on the stage."

Throughout my ten-year marriage with my husband, Simon Sader, he refuses to let me sleep with him by claiming that he's asexual. I visit my in-laws' home and get urged to give birth as soon as possible. Then, I find out that Simon has a child on the way, and another woman is carrying it. To the outside world, he declares that the child is mine. Behind closed doors, he tells me, "I want this child to be given a legitimate status." As I encourage Simon to let the woman give birth to her baby, I secretly leave my signature on a divorce agreement.

When the murderer tortures me to death, my criminal investigator dad and chief forensic pathologist mom are cheering at my brother's match. The criminal saws off my tongue. He answers my Dad's call with my finger. Just before the call ends, Dad's cold voice cuts through. "Playing dead, huh? We should never have brought him back." The murderer chuckles mockingly. "Looks like I grabbed the wrong kid. I thought they'd care more about their real son." When Mom and Dad arrive at the crime scene later, they stare at the mutilated body in shock and rage at the murderer's cruelty. But they never realize that the broken, bloodied body is their biological son.

When my wife, Rebecca Walsh, misses my chemotherapy session for the 99th time, I come across a post on social media. "I won my lover's heart with a kidney. She will surely love me to death, right?" The attached photo shows a couple kissing on a street in Targon. The woman has a small heart-shaped scar on her neck. What a coincidence—it is exactly the same as Rebecca's. The woman who nearly dies for me falls in love with someone else so easily. The comments below are full of encouragement from strangers. "Man, you're so brave. Wishing you everlasting love." "If I were the woman, I would love you to death." I leave a comment too. "I hope you are together until you are in the depths of hell, you cheating pair. As for me, the husband, I will step aside to make way for you." One minute later, the post disappears. It doesn't matter. I post on my own account. I write, "After I spent three years battling cancer, my wife fell in love with the man who's supposed to be the kidney donor." The attached images are our marriage certificate and the same photo of them kissing from earlier.

My CEO boyfriend promised that if I gave the billion-dollar project to his first love, he would marry me immediately. I agreed without hesitation. However, on the day we were supposed to register our marriage, he never showed up. I called him ninety-nine times, yet still could not reach him. Just as I was about to give up, his first love posted a photograph of the two of them holding their marriage certificate. [From school uniforms to wedding vows, our love's never changed.] I silently liked the post. Suddenly, the boyfriend who had been missing all day finally called me. “Whitney got into a car accident trying to save me and lost her memory. The doctor said we need to keep stimulating her memories so she can recover. “Don’t worry. Once she gets better, we’ll get married right away. You’re the one I truly love.” What he did not know was that there was no future for us anymore. I was bound to a mission system, and the moment he failed to show up for our marriage registration, the system declared my mission a failure. I would be completely erased in seven days.

My husband worked overtime in the studio and suffered from an explosion. His body was blown to pieces. When my bestie frantically told me the news, I just nodded calmly. She called and texted me nonstop. She urged me to go to the site to recognize my husband's body. I blacklisted her and bought a ticket to go abroad. In my previous life, when I heard the news, I stopped at nothing and rushed to my husband's studio. However, I only saw my husband's cold ashes. My bestie said that my husband had poured out his troubles to her once. My husband said that I had run up a mountainous debt for gambling. He wanted a divorce, but I threatened him that he would have a sky-high debt if he divorced me. Even my mother cried and accused me of often going to the casino and taking men home at midnight. But none of this was true. I treated my husband very well; just a few days ago, I gave him a million-dollar watch as a gift. And I had never done anything related to gambling. Facing their accusation, I chose to call the police to prove my innocence. However, the police discovered my diamond necklace at the explosion site, where forensic experts also found my fingerprints. I failed to prove my innocence and became the heinous murderer who killed my husband. My mother took me to court for justice and took over my business empire. In jail, I was retaliated and died. When I opened my eyes again, I regained my life on the day when my husband suffered from the explosion.

I’m Daisy Valence. Eighteen. The favorite daughter of the Valence family. I woke up and found myself eight years in the future. Not only was I married to my nemesis, Lorenzo Astor, but we had a four-year-old son. Even crazier, the future me was a stone-cold snake, plotting to gut Lorenzo's operation while planning to run off with her "lover" after the divorce. And this "lover"? Just some nobody from the slums I was bankrolling. I must have lost my mind. Just as I was about to cut ties with all of them and get my free, single life back... I found the love letters Lorenzo wrote me, a secret stash of things I’d used, and a phone filled with my pictures… Then he grabbed me, his eyes bloodshot, and held me so tight I could barely breathe. He growled, "Who the hell gave you permission to leave me?" "I never agreed to any divorce, my wife."

Maynard Hansen planned a luxury birthday cruise for Darlene Thompson, but the cruise ship capsized when a violent storm swept in without warning. Without hesitation, Maynard gave the last seat on the lifeboat to Darlene. As I struggled in the water, my son, Waldo Hansen—whom I carried for nine months and gave birth to—cried out, "Don't let Mom up! She'll push Ms. Thompson off." Clutching nothing but a broken plank, I somehow made it to shore. By the time I collapsed on the sand, I was frozen, exhausted, and done. I had never felt so alone. Shortly after, I found myself clutching a diagnosis of severe depression in my hand. I was ready to bring this wretched life to a quiet end. But when my husband and son realized I truly didn't want to live anymore, they collapsed into tears. They wrapped their arms around me as they sobbed, "Please don't leave us. We really can't live without you."