Notebook Screen Flickering

After three years of marriage, I believed I had the perfect family. My wife, Sarah, was gentle and caring, and our son was bright and adorable. On a rare day when I finished work early, I arrived home to find Sarah asleep, slumped tiredly by the crib. My heart went out to her, and I decided to carry her to our bedroom. As I approached, Sarah's phone screen suddenly lit up. A message appeared: “Sarah, is our son asleep?"

"Ms. Hall, these are the details of the feigned death service you booked with us. The date of death is set for the wedding, half a month from now. The cause of death will be suicide by drowning, and the deceased is yourself. Please confirm and sign here." Wendy Hall nodded. Without hesitation, she signed her name at the bottom of the document. The bustling street was alive with chatter and movement. As Wendy walked home alone, she glanced up, and there it was—the giant screen on a nearby building, looping a video of Grayson Bryce proposing to her.

"Ms. Stout, please read the requirements carefully. Once you submit your personal profile and sign up, all of your information will be sealed. You must then enter the research institute within 15 working days. Until the research results are made public, you will not be allowed to leave." The response from the National Academy of Sciences Research Institute came quickly, accompanied by a form. Shermaine Stout stared at the screen, but the mouse in her hand suddenly felt as heavy as lead. The door to her room suddenly swung open, and Shermaine blinked, quickly closing the laptop without a trace of emotion.

Illustrator Isabelle Montrose arrives in Valmont’s rain-soaked quarter, sketchbook in hand but ideas elusive beneath the amber glow of Café de Minuit. One evening, architect Alexander Vale seeks shelter under the same streetlamp, crimson umbrella in hand. His measured gaze meets her restless creativity, and a silent bond forms as raindrops dance on cobblestones. As Isabelle’s graphic-novel deadline approaches, self-doubt claws at her confidence; Alexander, torn between family expectations and his passion for design, struggles in silence. A misread glance threatens to sever their fragile connection, forcing both to confront fear and longing. In lavender-tinted twilight and beneath flickering lanterns, Isabelle and Alexander choose vulnerability over solitude. Together, they discover that true art—and true love—arises when two hearts light each other’s darkest moments.

She was taken, ripped from her world and thrown into his. She became a prisoner in the mansion of a man who should be her enemy. He’s ruthless, untouchable, and he makes it clear from the start: she belongs to him now. "I can make you beg," he murmurs, his fingers grazing her lips, dark amusement flickering in his eyes. She should be terrified. She should hate him. Instead, she finds herself trapped in a dangerous game of power and desire, where every touch ignites something forbidden, and every stolen moment drags her further into the fire. As betrayal lurks in the shadows and blood is spilled in the name of vengeance, she faces a choice, fight for freedom or surrender to the man who’s already claimed her in ways she never saw coming.

“I was her past but not her future.” Some say that our past is the reflection of our future, but what if your past is not part of your future? Living with her stepdad and battered mom, Mia dreamed of a safe life for her mother and brother. Struggling to her feet, she worked hard and planned for their escape until she stole a notebook from her best friend’s house one day and freed a curse Lycan King, which changed her life forever. Where the past meets the future, which love will she bind her heart, the past of the future? “Please, don’t leave! Help me!” I woke up hearing the strange voice calling me, crying and pleading for help. I tried to ignore it, but the voice was dragging my feet in his direction. The voice stops, and everything becomes quiet…. “Hi, I am Davon Maddox.” “Holy shit! You are the curse werewolf guy!”

On our anniversary, Nina Reid took our daughter—and her assistant, Ray Chapman—out for another "family day." Without me. That was it. I filed for divorce. Right after signing the papers and boxing up my stuff, I heard a buzz from the corner. Old phone. Twelve years old. Buried in a drawer. The screen lit up with a number I almost recognized. Hand shaking, I picked up. A voice I hadn't heard in years. Young. Way too familiar. "Hey, Liam. I need to talk to you."

Back when we were still in love, I heard from someone else that Charlie Grant had been getting unusually close to his secretary. He never offered an explanation. He let me dig for the truth on my own. Over the past five years, I quietly collected countless photos of them together—having lunch, leaving late-night meetings, even traveling for business—but none of them offered conclusive proof of cheating. Until the day he proposed to me. There was a giant screen set up. It was supposed to play a romantic video Charlie had prepared just for the proposal, but the screen suddenly cut to something else. A video of Charlie at a hospital, standing beside his secretary as she underwent a pregnancy check-up. In the video, the doctor clearly referred to Charlie as her husband… and the father of her child. His secretary burst into tears on the spot and apologized to me repeatedly. She sobbed as though she were the victim. Charlie, however, stood there with a cold expression and said flatly, "She's an unwed mother. She was helpless. I was just accompanying her for the checkup. The doctor must've misunderstood." Everyone braced for a dramatic scene. However, I didn’t scream. I didn’t cry. I only reached up and slowly removed the delicate flower hairpiece from my head. I set the hairpiece down. Then I looked Charlie in the eyes and spoke calmly. "You're right. It is sad that she’s pregnant and all alone. "This marriage proposal was meant for her. Not me." I gave a faint smile. "May you enjoy a blissful life. And… congratulations on the baby."

Rose Evans. A girl with big dreams and goals, that she planned to see trough. Everything was planned in detail and it all started with finishing school and going to college. With her plans in mind and her dreams written down in a colorful schemed notebook, she never planned to have it all ripped away from beneath her feet. Her mother passed abruptly after a long fight with dancer, and the seventeen year old girl was left to fend for herself. Tyler Chaps. The multi-bilionare, owner of several cooperations with both feet in the most succesfull real-estate market affairs. The 28 year old was the hottest bachelor on the market, with a plan to never settle down. Rose found comfort in a man who helped her get a job. A job that entailed stealing and flirting her way to peoples possessions. What happens when the young girls slick hands, grip the wrong wrist? What happens when a ruthless, cold-hearted billionaire CEO catches the pickpocket thief and employs her for a job of his own? When a strong minded, business oriented woman, is paired with a soulless, dominant CEO, hearts are bound to come undone.

“What do you mean? What cyst?” Sebastian blinked, staring at the small screen on his phone, feeling his heart beat faster. The emergency information he had just received made him pause in front of his door, but then he ran to the car without thinking. He knew that something serious had happened to his wife. He had to get to the hospital immediately. His voice was hoarse as he spoke to the hospital operator, trying to get a grasp of the situation as quickly as possible. “This is a complication… You need to come to the hospital immediately and sign the consent form for surgery as soon as possible.” The voice was flat but urgent.