Novel & Cerita No Scars In Heaven

In existence shaped by order and opposition, two beings cross a line that was never meant to be crossed. An angel and a devil, born from different realms, find themselves drawn together in a way neither side could have predicted. What begins as closeness turns into something deeper, something forbidden. Love. But Heaven, the very force that created love, refuses to accept it. Their bond is seen as a flaw. A mistake. A defiance of everything they were meant to be. Despite everything, they choose each other. They try to hold on, to fight for what they feel, even as they are judged, even as they are pushed apart by the very laws that shaped them. If love was created by Heaven,

Heaven never dreamed of marrying into a family as rich and powerful as the Wiles family, but an arranged marriage bound her to Damien Wiles and knowing he didn’t care about her didn’t stop her from falling for him completely. Unfortunately, all she got in return for her love and devotion was a marriage full of pain and coldness yet she selflessly sacrificed herself when Damien was shot at. After being trapped in a coma for five years, Heaven finally wakes up but doesn’t remember anything. At her bedside stands Damien, no longer the cold, heartless husband he once was—not that she even remembers, and a little boy who calls her “Mommy.” Knowing that Heaven doesn’t remember their love

Diki Reandi is a member of the Indonesian Air Force International, has a cold demeanor and is talkative. He is 28 years old and at this time, he is involved in solving problems in the past which all started from the disappointment experienced by a man named Kenzo Albert. In the middle of a wedding with his wife. He had a deep loss. The woman who had only been his wife for 1 minute died in front of him. His family and friends died where what was supposed to be happy news turned into sad news. "Nokkkk!" Kenzo shouted when he saw his wife's incomplete body in front of him. In the luxury mension with a classic style, a beautiful woman is seen sitting on a chair equipped with a han

My dad has died in a car crash when I'm seven years old. So, my mom marries her first love, Robert Hayes, and integrates me into his family. During the first meal with my new family, Robert announces a newly instated family rule. "From now on, we have to split the bills in this family." Once I eat a piece of steak, Robert tells me to pay him 300 dollars for the meal. I just look at my stepsister, Harper Hayes, who's digging into her meal happily. "Harper ate steak as well. Why didn't you ask her to pay you back, Dad?" "That's because Harper's my biological daughter. I love her, and she has the bloodline privileges," Robert answers. Then, I glance at Mom. So, Robert adds, "Your mom is

I chase my six-year-old daughter out of the house on a cold winter day. I cut her new clothes to pieces and dirty her dainty little face with mud. Then, I give her all my savings. She looks at me tearfully and reaches out for me, wanting me to hold her. However, I harden my heart and push her away, saying, "Leave! Go to Bowen Group and look for their CEO, Logan Bowen. Show him my death certificate and your DNA test—he'll take you in." She sobs while looking at me. "Don't you want me anymore, Mommy? Let's go look for Daddy together." After a brief silence, I say, "I can't go with you. I lied to him back then to have you." Yes, I'm a liar. I orchestrated everything from meeting Logan, dat

Fedora Smith was done with love. Finished. Buried. Betrayal had ripped out her heart and torched it—her boyfriend of four years and her best friend of twenty-five caught pants down on the very anniversary sheets she gifted him. And their excuses? “You’re not attractive anymore.” “You took too long to marry him.” Fine. If love was a game, she was rewriting the rules. Now, she runs The Bridal Fix, an elite agency providing fake marriages for a steep price—rent-a-bride services for men needing to fool their families, secure an inheritance, or stage the perfect breakup. Fifteen weddings, fifteen divorces—no strings, no mess. Just business. Until Judah Carlstone. He hires her like the rest—

Five years after the death of his husband, Sky Haren still lived in his illusion and memory, grieving and in pain until he decides to seek help from a psychologist – Kole Terven, the exact replica of his deceased husband. When the person you ask for help, wears the face of the person you want to forget, will Sky reach the healing that he wanted? Or be drowned even more with no way to escape?

I traveled over a thousand eight hundred miles to find my wife. She was a professor at Harbor University. As soon as I arrived, I received a call. “Hi, Mr. Jaques. We’re just following up on the stroller your wife custom-ordered from us. Have you been happy with it? If so, would you mind leaving us a quick positive review?” I was stunned. We had lived apart for years and did not have a child together. Still, I remained calm and double-checked. “Are you sure I’m the one who ordered that stroller?” “Yes, sir, I can confirm that. Our system requires ID verification from both parents for all custom stroller orders. The mother on file is Shiloh Zoeller. Mr. Jaques, you are listed as the chi

I was reborn back to 1975, when the child in my womb was three months old. I did not tell anyone and quietly had an abortion. However, I still wrapped cotton around my belly every day, pretending the baby was still there. In my past life, my husband Declan Huxley's childhood sweetheart Jane Patton and I gave birth on the same day. She had a healthy, ordinary baby boy. But my child looked nothing like us—he was mixed-race, with features of the Valorian people. Declan and I were both locals, so there was no way our son could look like this. Enraged, Declan scolded me in front of everyone, accusing me of cheating on him and having a disgraceful affair with a Valorian. No matter how many time

Despite a decade of marriage, Simon never once shared my bed, claiming that he had pledged himself to ascetic practices and that it was beneath him. I thought that he suffered from some shameful ailment and guarded his secret like a devoted fool, until my birthday, when I came home to find him entangled with a brothel worker before the floor-length mirror. When I lunged forward in rage, he drove a shard of that broken mirror straight through my heart. When I awoke, I was gripping my phone, its screen illuminating a message Simon had just sent: [I’ll still give you a lavish wedding, but the marriage certificate? That belongs to her.]