Nothing Goes Over My Head Novels & Stories

"This year, there's only one spot available–and I fought hard to secure it for you. "If things don't work out with Baron Cole, I'll talk to him. You two have a strong relationship. Waiting a few years won't matter." As I stared at the application form my professor handed me, my hands would not stop trembling. In my previous life, I spent forty years married to Baron. We raised a son and a daughter. I thought that was what a complete, fulfilled life looked like. However, after he died, while sorting through his belongings, I found a box filled with letters and photographs. That was when I learned the truth–he had always loved someone else. She was his first love… and the biological daughter of the family that raised me. Back in 1984, he hid my study-abroad application, giving the opportunity to her instead. From that moment on, I became a housewife. And he devoted himself to helping the woman he loved rise–until she returned from overseas as a celebrated professor. Even my own son later turned their story into a drama, glorifying their restrained, enduring love. When I opened my eyes again, I found myself back on the day I first received that application form. This time, I did not hesitate. "Professor, I'm going abroad."

My son, Andy, had a sudden liver failure and needed a liver transplant. The only compatible match was my wife, Vivian Grant. I had begged her for 20 days to give Andy a liver transplant. Finally, she caved in. I waited the entire day in front of the operating theater, but she didn’t appear. On the same day, her first love, Jason Sanderson posted on his social media. [20th day of traveling around the world. Dr. Grant had given up her career to help fulfil my son's dream of traveling the world.] Only then did I find out that Vivian had been travelling the world with Jason and his son, Luke, since day one. That night, I received a call from Vivian. "Charlie, Luke had gotten full marks on his exam. His wish was to have his Daddy and Mommy travel around the world with him. As you know, he doesn't have a Mommy. I couldn't bear to watch him not get his wish. "We'll return in three days. We can have the surgery for Andy then." She had no idea that what awaited her at the hospital was Andy's lifeless body.

My wife went viral by copying someone else. After some netizens shamed her looks, she became obsessed with plastic surgery. Eventually, an illegal clinic tricked her into spending thirty thousand dollars, claiming they could make her into a celebrity. She even forced me to fund her dream by feeding our daughter pesticides. However, I knew that the clinic used implants from stolen corpses. Before long, her face would start to rot. I spent ages convincing her to choose a professional cosmetic hospital instead, saving her life. Later, though, her best friend became an internet star after undergoing plastic surgery. In comparison, my wife’s appearance had only improved slightly after the cosmetic treatment. In a fit of jealousy, she burned my daughter and me alive. “It’s your fault I couldn’t make it big! You deserve to die!” When I next opened my eyes, I returned to the day my wife asked me for money.

I, Daphne Thorn, am an impoverished woman from the slums. William Blackburn, on the other hand, is the son of the richest man in Wylland. Unexpectedly, the two of us who share such vastly different identities end up being together. So far, we've tried out various difficult positions in our bouts of passion during our secret rendezvouses in secluded areas. Like the madman he is, William often torments me in every session. I'm so exhausted that I'm about to fall asleep. That's when a notification pops up on William's phone, which is sitting next to me. So, I take a peek at it. "William, my stomach hurts a lot! I'm suffering so much right now!" It's a text from someone named "Ellie". All the exhaustion in me disappears. I can feel my chest tightening up in discomfort. Once William is done with his shower, he leaves the bathroom and picks up his phone. "You should sleep first. I'm heading out," he says. When I see William turning his back on me, I blurt out, "Are you going to meet that childhood sweetheart of yours?" William wheels around to look at me. Suddenly, he moves to lift my chin. There is a trace of wariness in his eyes. "Don't go around sticking your nose in my business, Daphne. I like my woman docile and obedient." But I end up stalking William all the way to Royale Hotel, where I witness him visiting Elaine Moore, his childhood sweetheart. He coaxes her as though she's the most precious treasure in the world. I don't have the courage to question William in person. But still, I want to know who he thinks is more important to him—me or Elaine? So, I give him a call. "William, my gastritis is acting up again! It hurts so much! Can you drive me to the hospital?" I said. I use the same tactic that Elaine had used earlier. That night, I keep waiting for William, and yet he never returns to me. That's when I decide to not love him anymore.

Sharon McKinzie's husband's first love was dying. He often said to Sharon, "Sharon, Kelly doesn't have much time left. Don't be petty and hold things against her." To make up for the regrets of his past, he traveled with Kelly—through mountains and rivers, beneath starlit skies and over distant seas. He even handed over the wedding they had planned—his and Sharon's—to Kelly Walt, without shame or hesitation. Even their five-year-old son clung to Kelly. "Mommy isn't even half as pretty as Kelly," he said. "Kelly's pretty. Why can't Kelly be my mommy?" Sharon decided to grant them their wish. She left behind the divorce papers and walked away without a word. Later, her ex-husband and son knelt before her—her ex-husband full of regret, her son's cheeks streaked with tears. "Honey… please come back to us." "Mommy… do you really not want us anymore?" Just then, a handsome man wrapped his arm around Sharon's waist. "There you are, honey," he said gently. "Our son's still at home, waiting for you to feed him."

At the court, my daughter, Hannah Wright, accuses me of being a sexist tormentor with violent tendencies. With tears running down her cheeks, she slowly takes off her clothes, revealing her wounds to everyone present. "She's a monster! She buys mangoes for my younger brother, Rodney, and yet she makes me kneel on the floor while munching on the peels! "Then, she beats me up in public and even strips me naked before forcing me to kneel and apologize! On top of that, she doesn't feed me at all!" Everyone gasps in shock before glaring at me angrily. They are all waiting for me to get sentenced to hell and back. But what Hannah refuses to bring up is that I can't let her eat any mangoes due to her severe allergy. If she were to have any, she'd go into shock immediately. I beat her up because she had the audacity to switch out the tea leaves to sheep droppings just to pull a prank on an elderly family member during her funeral. Naturally, I punished her because she actually mixed weed killer into Rodney's milk and tried to feed him with it! At the end of the day, Hannah remembers the pain she's been through, yet she completely forgets about the atrocious misdeeds that she herself has committed!

I accidentally wore the jewelry belonging to the former Luna of the pack on my birthday. My ten-year-old stepson, Soren Lambert, doesn't hesitate to push me down the stairs because of that. He looks just like his father, Michael Lambert, as he looks at me in a high and mighty manner. My face is completely twisted in pain at that time. But Soren's expression remains icy. "You really think you'll become the pack's Luna just because you put on my mom's jewelry? Once I inherit the Alpha position, the first thing I'll do is exile you from the pack!" Pain continues to swallow me whole. My heart breaks into countless pieces at the same time. After all, I've personally raised Soren since he was a pup. But when faced with Soren's hurtful accusations, I don't even feel a trace of sadness or anger. Instead, a wave of calmness washes over me. "You don't have to wait till you're all grown up. I'll grant your wish tomorrow."

I threw myself into the sea out of despair. Unexpectedly, I returned to the fifth year after I became mates with Alpha Ethan Grant. Ethan is my mate. He is the strongest Alpha among all the packs. Our son, Chester Grant, inherited his bloodline. Like Ethan, he is a powerful, unyielding, born leader. To the world, I am the noble Luna. I am the one every she-wolf envies and strives to be. Yet, the first thing I did was venture deep into the forest where a witch lived. I asked the witch for a bone ring that would sever the blood bond with Ethan and Chester. "Wear this, and the bond between you and your mate and child will gradually sever within five days. The process is painful and irreversible. You mustn't regret it," the witch says. I immediately place the pale bone ring on my finger. While enduring the pain that pierces directly into my soul, I reply while trembling, "I will never regret it." Ethan's first love is Angelina Lark. In my previous life, Ethan permitted her to dethrone me from my Luna position. I was also injured in the process. Additionally, Chester complained that my scent was repulsive and called Angelina "Mommy". So, in this life, I don't want my mate or my son. I just want the freedom to live my own life. But after leaving, I hear that the strongest Alpha and his heir are searching the world with soldiers in tow. They swear to find the Luna who had taken their hearts.

I married Mason Fleming, who comes from a prestigious family with a long line of lawyers, at 19. For over 20 years, I devoted myself fully to our home by raising our child, keeping the household together, and supporting his career. Now I'm 40, and he cheats on me. Friends and relatives try to advise me. "Your husband is handsome and successful. He even lets you manage the money he earns. Compared to most men, he's considered one of the good ones." In other words, they want me to turn a blind eye and continue playing the role of a "good wife" to maintain appearances. But I can't keep up with the act anymore.

On the night of our ninth wedding anniversary, my husband—Damian Grant, the man who ruled the mafia by day and once ruled my heart by night—did not bring me roses. He gave the bouquet that should have been mine to Serena Lane, his personal assistant. Beneath the chandelier where we once danced on our wedding night, he turned to me with that same cold charm he once used to whisper sweet nothings in my ear. “She's pregnant.” Finally, everything fell into place. “She's a picky eater. From today onward, you’ll cook three meals a day for her. And no repeats. “She’s sensitive and hates sleeping alone, so you’ll need to move your things into the guest room.” The room fell silent. I did not raise my voice, nor did I shed a single tear. I simply picked up my packed suitcase and walked to the door. The butler tried to stop me, but Damian did not even blink. “She’ll come back.” He lazily swirled the wine in his glass. “She’ll come back crying and begging within three days.” Our guests burst out laughing. They placed a million-dollar bet right in front of me. They were betting on whether I would be back before the night was over, begging Damian to let me back in like a pathetic stray dog with my tail between my legs. However, they did not know I had already received the family heirloom from my real father. I booked my flight to get far, far away from everyone I used to know. This time, I really left.