Non Game No Life

Lenora Bennet is my first love. After we start dating, she's been nothing but caring toward me. But on the day of our wedding, my older brother, Gideon Sloane, calls her on the phone and tells her that he's sick and hospitalized. Lenora doesn't hesitate to ditch me at the altar. My mom wants me to be the bigger man and let Lenora take care of the ill Gideon. Meanwhile, my older sister, Hillary Sloane, chastises me for being selfish. She thinks I never let Gideon have his way. I don't understand at all. Gideon is the one who's stolen my life from me, but why is it that my family wants me to be gracious toward him? But after that, I've graciously decided that I don't want them in my life anymore. Surprisingly enough, they keep begging for my forgiveness.

Mathematically put; 2blahdity - 6bluffity + 5whoopsie - 8oopsdaisy + Nerdiness.The Variable Life of Sam: where N(Nerdiness) is a constant.Has it crossed your mind to wonder how the first-all-Nigerian-schools excursion would be?Wonder no more as Sam takes us "out on dinner" with his "out of this world" narrative, weaving up his "breathtaking" adventures, with students from different schools. Hilarious moments, invented imaginations, teenage crush, life as a nerd, "The Battle of Wits: War Against Bullies"...Join this adventurous train on the railway of humour as Sam, the locomotive driver of the train takes us yonder.....

On the one thousand and ninety-fourth day of being Mrs. Harris, I asked James Harris for a divorce. His face showed a hint of confusion, but it quickly shifted to his usual, composed expression. "As you wish," he said, his tone as flat as if we were discussing whether to replace the milk on the breakfast table. He did not even bother to ask why. On the one thousand and ninety-fifth day, I gently saw him and the children off, acting as if nothing had happened, and then completely left the Harris family behind.

After my ex-husband, Lucaro Ricci, has died, he turns into a ghost. Since then, he has stayed by my side as a shadow. Three years later, I walk into the church, hand-in-hand with Carlo Altieri, the oldest son of Lucaro's arch-nemesis. Everyone in the city chews me out for betraying Lucaro. Even Lucaro curses me out for being a scumbag. But I'm the only one who knows the actual reason. I've already made a wish to God in the church that I'll sacrifice my life in exchange for Lucaro's second chance in life.

My stepbrother showed up after my parents' death—and he wanted revenge. Not closure. Not forgiveness. Revenge from me. *** My parents—abusive, reckless and selfish—died in a car crash, leaving me with nothing but unanswered questions and a fortune soaked in secrets. Everyone thought I was their cherished little princess. They didn't know the truth. And neither did he. Asher Grayson—my stepbrother. Cold. Ruthless. A billionaire with the face of sin and the heart of a devil. By day, he's a businessman who breaks empires. By night... he breaks me. He came for vengeance. For things our father had done to him. I didn't even know why... but I was the one getting punished. His hatred for me knew no bounds. He punished me for things I didn't do. Locked me in his mansion. Made me his servant. Tortured me. And then... his touch slowly…turned punishment into pleasure. The lines between hate and desire blurred until I couldn't tell them apart. Soon, I was chained to his bed, moaning his name like a confession—his face buried between my thighs, doing everything I swore I never would with a man who only wanted to destroy me. Whose only goal was to ruin me. To show me the worst. Because in this cruel game of revenge and ruin— He played to break me. And I fell... to love him. My biggest mistake? Falling for my stepbrother—the man who only wanted revenge.

Joshua set to become a sought out programmer and a novelist right from high school had to face challenges of overcoming girls challenge. Together with his friend, could he live his dreams after Vivian came into his life Find out if he is able to fulfill his dreams

The story is about a girl named Aiv, an introvert and a shy girl, who unexpectedly meets a guy, Kevin, who happens to be a deity under a curse. They struggle to keep up with the promise they made to each other under the Northern lights. They both have sides that both of them have yet to explore. But, little do they know that there's someone pulling their strings all along. Will they ever discover the mastermind? Can they find love amidst this cursed fate? Cover by: @LeelaSteele

My husband's childhood friend says she wants her crystal beads to soak up some of the good luck in our home. Because of that, he scatters the beads on the floor, making me slip and miscarry. I'm in agony as I lie on the operating table. I call my husband incessantly, but all he does is block my number. I lie in the hospital ward after the operation. I see my husband's childhood friend's social media update—a photo of him worshipfully holding out a certificate while getting down on one knee. It's captioned, "He loves me so much! I said I'm interested in running a business and he actually set up a company for me!" On the day of the branch company's grand opening, my husband's childhood friend wears an expensive custom-made gown. Meanwhile, I wear her discarded goods. I'm barred from even entering the building. I suppress my bitterness and call my lawyer. "Are the divorce procedures done?"

To ransom my husband from the black market, I threw myself into relentless work, earning every penny I could. My son suffered alongside me, sharing in my exhaustion and deprivation. Years of malnutrition had left him vulnerable, and eventually, he was diagnosed with leukemia. I wept as I scraped together money from relatives and friends to pay for his chemotherapy. But on the way to the hospital, a sudden, unbearable pain wracked him. In his struggle, he accidentally bit off his own tongue and died in agony before we even reached the doors. I clutched my son's ashes and went straight to the black market, determined to use the borrowed money to bring my husband back. The moment I stepped in, I overheard a conversation between Joe Masseria and his men. "Boss, Sandra comes every month with her payments. She's suffered a lot just to ransom you," one said. At that moment, a widow—Joe's sister-in-law, long mourning her late husband—appeared beside him. "Joe," she said, her voice calm but cutting, "all these years, you've protected me from harm, even giving me the title of a mob boss's wife. But you've kept Sandra in the dark the whole time. Isn't that… terribly unfair to her?" Joe's eyes were cold, devoid of any pity for me. He scoffed. "Fairness is ruthless. She's had all this love from me. What's a little suffering compared to that? "But she's waited for me all these years. It's time I returned—before she loses her mind and comes after you. "If she's still sensible, I'll make sure her and her son's quality of life improves a bit." I understood everything in that instant. Holding my son's ashes to my chest, I wept until it felt as if my heart would shatter. Joe—your so-called fairness killed my son. And I am done waiting for you.

In New York’s Upper East Side, there were two heirs. One was a speed-obsessed daredevil dominating the racetracks, the other was a brilliant actuary who controlled the flow of capital. Born into powerful families and polar opposites in temperament, yet they grew up side by side as each other’s only best friend. They had fought over girls and bickered endlessly over racing bets. However, at fifteen, there was one thing they did in perfect unison. They each put on the same roughly carved bronze badge. They were trinkets Mia had idly made during a craft class, marked only by a faint “M” scratched on the back. Back then, Mia was seated in the last row of the classroom. Her background was a complete mystery to everyone. Yet they wore that badge for ten whole years. Whether standing on the F1 podium or locking in billion-dollar trades at the exchange, the cheap little badge on their chests never changed. Until Ella showed up. She was the cherished daughter of a rising conglomerate family. She hand-stitched two gold-thread fabric patches and gifted them to them. The patches looked so ordinary they looked like the kind of trinket you would find three for a dollar at a flea market. And yet, they both replaced their bronze badges with her plain patches. Mia did not say anything. She simply folded away an old newspaper clipping with a photo of the three of them smiling together. That night, she called her father in Sicily. Her voice was emotionless. “Papa, I accept the marriage arrangement.”