Not Done Yet Soja Lyrics

Eight years of loyalty—wiped out by three days of her batting her lashes. At the bonfire, I swore the Alpha would finally mark me. Instead, I watched him fasten a sparkly little pendant around her neck. When the fire broke out, he ditched me—flames snapping at my heels. Said I could "handle myself," then played hero carrying her out. She showed up at my herb shop all smug, called me a "mutt no one wants." Then he showed up—Alpha on his knees outside my door, begging for another shot. I nodded toward my shelves. "These heal every wolf in Stormborne... except the Alpha who couldn't see what was right in front of him."

Nathaniel Lee, a janitor, never complained about the insults and mistreatment he received from his wife's family. There was a reason for that. It wasn't that he didn't have the courage or ability to retaliate. He just had to wait for the right moment. Why did he have to go to such lengths to endure all that unpleasant treatment? What was it about his past that he kept secret, even from his wife?

When I went to reissue my mate certificate, the Werewolf Affairs Division told me, "Your mate certificate is a forgery. We have no record of your registration." I stared at the clerk, unable to believe what I was hearing. "But Sam and I registered five years ago. That's impossible. Could you please check again?" The clerk gave me a look before double-checking the files. "We found Alpha Sam's record. But the registered mate… isn't you." My voice trembled. "Then who is Sam's legal mate?" The clerk didn't hesitate. "Lily." I gripped the back of the chair, white-knuckled, just to keep myself upright. Until the clerk had spoken that name, I'd still held on to hope. Maybe it was a clerical error. A mix-up. But of all people, it had to be Lily, Sam's childhood friend. And suddenly, everything started to make sense. In five years of being Sam's mate, he had never marked me. We'd only held a mating ceremony—no certificate, no legal bond. I had given up everything for that ceremony, poured all my hope and love into it, believing I was his, only to find the certificate was fake. The five years I'd thought were mine—our happiness—had all been a lie, crafted and upheld by appearances. If none of it was truly mine, then there's only one thing left for me to do. Leave.

Albert Roosevelt was the crush I was never meant to have. Like an idiot, I believed loving someone meant giving them everything, even if they didn't care about you. So, I trailed after him like a desperate puppy, bending over backward to meet his every whim. When he couldn't afford tuition, I begged Dad to fund him, sending him to the best schools. When his worn-out clothes made him a laughingstock, I pitied him and showered him with designer labels. And what did he do? He used what I gave him to chase after a gold-digging campus belle. To keep up appearances, he blew through money like it grew on trees. He even spread rumors that he was the real heir to the Roosevelts. To him, I was just an ATM. "Your family's loaded. It's not like you'll miss a few hundred grand. If you're gonna be stingy, maybe you should stop following me around," he said when his wallet ran dry. And like a fool, I believed that if I kept paying, someday, he'd love me back. After graduation, I funded his startup. The second it took off, he married the campus belle. He had the nerve to claim he earned everything through nothing but hard work. So, I crashed his wedding, and he buried a knife in my chest. "Only when you're dead, Eve Roosevelt. Only then will my pathetic past stay buried." When I opened my eyes again, I was face-to-face with a scowling Albert. "You can't scrape together a few hundred thousand dollars? It's Bianca's birthday. Are you trying to humiliate me?" I looked around the room and rolled my eyes. "Sure, I'll pay. But first? Kneel. You look pretty enough. Consider it charity, peasant."

I was a wedding planner, and I personally designed my husband's wedding to his mistress. I had been with Victor for five years. Three of those years were swallowed by the pandemic. The remaining two were spent married, pregnant, and raising a child. The wedding I had always dreamed of existed only as "next time" whenever it came out of his mouth, until the day I received a new wedding planning request. The client was a young woman, her eyes curved with laughter, her smile bright and full of hope. "This is the venue my boyfriend chose himself," she said softly. "He insisted the wedding had to be held here." I took the file from her, and my gaze stopped on the venue name. The church in Clairmont. The very church I had mentioned to my husband countless times, the place I had dreamed of more than anything else. I was just about to smile and marvel at how someone in this world shared my taste so perfectly when the groom's name leapt into view. Victor Langford. My fingers froze on the page. Across from me, the girl was still wrapped in her happiness. She added gently, "We've only been together for two months, but he said he wants to give me the best wedding possible." I curved my lips into a smile and fixed my eyes on that familiar face—the man I had lived with for five years. After all this time, the day I planned Victor's wedding had finally arrived. Too bad the bride wasn't me.

Three days into the silent treatment, Derrick—my fiancé and CEO—greenlit his assistant's pitch for a self-driving road trip. He expected me to flip, like always. I didn't. A month later, he came back and saw it—I wasn't the same. He backed Molly, stole my project, and thought I'd explode. I didn't. I just helped her draft the proposal. He trashed everything I built, just so she could snag her year-end bonus. I didn't fight back. Took the blame, took the hit. Molly was all smug. "See? Told you. You can't go at Yara head-on. Give her the silent treatment—she folds. She's scared of losing you. That's why she's playing nice." Derrick ate it up. Called her smart. Then he pulled me aside—offered a raise, a promotion, even a fancy wedding. First time he'd ever brought it up. But he missed one detail: he'd already signed off on my resignation while he was off playing road trip king. And I'd already dumped him. That was it. Clean cut. Nothing left.

Yvonne Jamison wants to get married after being with Jared Ford for seven years. She prepares her own wedding dress, but he doesn't pop the question. On the day they're scheduled for a pre-marriage medical checkup, she waits for him at the hospital from day to night. Yet, he's busy throwing a celebration for his new secretary. The secretary shares a social media update and tags Yvonne in it. The update comes with a photo of a diamond ring from Jared and a suggestive caption. Yvonne doesn't cause a fuss. She likes the update, quits her job, and goes home for a blind date. Jared is unfazed. He's sure she won't actually leave him. "I'll just give her the cold shoulder for a few days to teach her a lesson. She'll be back soon enough." However, the days pass, and Yvonne doesn't return. Jared loses his cool. For the first time ever, he submits to Yvonne. "Have you had enough of this tantrum? Come back if you still want to marry me. This is your last chance!" "Mr. Ford, Ms. Jamison has already met someone else on a blind date." Later, Yvonne shares a photo of her marriage certificate on her social media. Jared, who has always been arrogant and aloof, loses his mind. He kneels outside her house in the rain for three days and nights. "Please come back to me, Yvonne!" The door opens, and a man clad in nothing but a towel around his waist emerges. He says hoarsely, "My wife has fallen asleep from her exhaustion. Please leave, Mr. Ford."

Shane realized that his family is in trouble and he has less than a year to find the money to solve the problem. However, he has to go to college and he made up his mind to follow his childhood crush to the college she will go to. However, will things work out the way he wants it to? And will he still feel the same way about her when he goes to college? After all, he will be surrounded by a lot of beautiful women.

I was reborn. Right back to the day I adopted Peter. The wind cut sharp, baby cries slicing through the cold. That's when it hit me—this was the day Stuart Pete, my oh-so-loving husband, dumped his illegitimate child right in my path after work. He knew me too well. The second I picked the kid up, he'd spin it into an adoption, making the boy ours. Last time, I fell for it. This time? I walked away without a second thought. Later, I heard the kid got pneumonia from being left out in the freezing cold—fever so bad, it wrecked him for life. I laughed until my stomach hurt. What I didn't see coming? Peter was reborn too—about to experience the life he was meant to have.

On the day we were supposed to get our marriage license, Michael Robertson ghosted. I sat outside the County Clerk's Office for hours. Instead of him, I got a pic from his secretary, Kallie Clunt. She was in his lap, arms wrapped around him, making out like it was the hottest scene in a drama. [Sorry, Elsa. Michael said he had to comfort my broken heart. You don't mind, do you?] When I asked him about it, he just looked annoyed. "She gave me blood once. What's the big deal if I hang out with her? Can't you be a little more understanding?" My stomach dropped. I turned away and called his older brother. "Leon, do you still want to marry me?"