Obsessive

Six months ago, I was accidentally poisoned by wolfsbane. The poison is deadly, and my days are numbered. My body gradually weakens. Today, my wolf is completely gone, and I have three days left to live. On the last day before I draw my final breath, I agree to donate my kidney to my sister. Thrilled, my mate swears that he'll make it up to me someday. My sister is being swamped with insults on the college forum after she was caught plagiarizing my Belladonna thesis. But I come forward and claim that I'm the one who plagiarized it. Mom and Dad are pleased, saying I've finally become mature. At last, I've become the perfect mate and daughter in their eyes. But why are they crying after my body has turned cold and lifeless?

My husband is a geologist. He took his soulmate, who was suffering from a terminal illness, to an active volcano, to fulfill her wishes. However, I was pushed into the lava when we were there. His soulmate then said, "Don't worry about me, just go and save her. I'm going to die soon anyway." I cried for help, "Please save me, I'm pregnant." However, my husband scolded me coldly, "A cancer patient has the right to live too. How can you be jealous of her and claim you are pregnant? Celine doesn't know anything, unlike you. You're an expert at this, you should know what to do. Just save yourself!"

I finally recovered my sight. Just as I was about to tell my parents about it, a slip of paper on the table caught my attention. "Don't tell your parents you've recovered your sight."

My husband, who's a negotiation expert, allows his intern to recklessly anger some criminals. It causes me, the hostage, to suffer severe injuries in the explosion, and my right leg breaks because of it. Yet, my husband once again issues a letter of forgiveness for her. "My wife, as a reporter, ignored warnings and forced contact with the criminals to get the scoop. The main responsibility lies with her. Kimberly, being a newcomer, should not bear major fault." I don't cry or make a scene. I simply pull out a divorce agreement. However, he sneers at me. "I know you're just jealous and want me to comfort you, but don't cross the line." For the past three years, I've brought up the topic of divorce 47 times, and each time, he treats it like I'm just throwing a tantrum. But it's different this time. His name has already been signed on this divorce agreement. As long as I add my signature to it, it will take effect immediately.

On my 18th birthday, my adoptive uncle, Roderick Campbell, discovers my journal. He immediately starts berating me. "How could you have such dirty thoughts about me, Savannah? I never would've expected you to be like this!" I apologize to him and say I should never have developed feelings for him. However, he still banishes me abroad. Then, he has a grand wedding with his first love. Later, I return to the country with a child. Roderick looks at me in astonishment. "Who is this kid?" I hold the child closer. "My son. He's three this year." I turn to Danny Tucker and say, "Say hi, Danny."

After three years of relentless pursuit, I finally won over Logan—a guy who had never shown the slightest interest in women—and he cherished me like I was his entire world. On the eve of our wedding, I accidentally overheard one of his friends teasing him, "Logan, are you really ready to step into the grave of marriage for Bella? And what about Joann? She's chased you for so many years. Don't you feel anything for her?" Logan's voice was cold. "If we hadn't grown up together, I wouldn't even want to see Joann's face. She could never compare to Bella, ever." So, I held onto dreams for our future, and I married him. Two years later, at our daughter's hundred-day celebration, Joann came to me in tears, claiming her baby had leukemia—and that only my daughter could save her baby. Logan's eyes reddened instantly, and without hesitation, he sent our daughter into the operating room to have her blood drawn. I struggled in the bodyguards' grip desperately, crying and pleading, "Logan, Lily is still so little. She can't take this. She'll die! Please, use the cord blood I stored for her. I'm begging you, let her go." He kicked me aside. "It's just a bit of blood. Joann's baby is dying, and you're still this selfish? Get out!" When the surgery was over, he tossed a divorce agreement at me. "Joann's child is mine. I have to give them both a name, and I'm taking her abroad for treatment." I stared at my silent, motionless daughter in the operating room, my heart turning to ash. "Fine." Six years later, Logan saw me in a baby store, holding the hand of my five-year-old son. Logan reached out with a pained look, trying to pick him up. "Why did you cut Lily's hair so short? She looks like a boy. What were you thinking?"

My mate Jackson died saving me in the great fire. I couldn't accept the truth that he was gone, so I decided to end my life by jumping into the silver pit. But the Alpha David saved me—twice—while making his rounds among the soldiers. He stayed by my side, comforting me, afraid I might try to take my life again. Slowly, I began to accept the idea of being claimed by him. But then, at his birthday party, I overheard something that shattered me. "I want to claim her as my Luna," he said, "but I still can't compete with her deceased mate, even after being with her for three years. She always pulls away when I get close, and I give up each time because I don't want to force her. But if she were to die for me... my wolf would be overjoyed—he would finally have found his fated mate, someone willing to die for him." I was stunned—especially by the plan he revealed next. So, before he could put it into action, I decided to fake my own death. That day, dressed in a wedding gown, I walked into the sea right in front of him. Later, I heard he went mad, deploying every soldier he could to search for me. But when all efforts failed, he was left alone, kneeling by the shore, sobbing like a broken mate— the sea answering him with only silence.

When I woke up, I had somehow become trapped in the body of my disobedient daughter. I had sacrificed everything, living frugally to send her to the best school. Yet, she called me almost daily, claiming—like someone trapped in a paranoid delusion—that her teachers and classmates were out to harm her. She was willful and rebellious, picky about food, befriending the wrong crowd, and even dating a troublemaker at a young age. As a sister, she was far from kind, constantly bullying her younger brother. And school? Surely, it couldn’t be harder than working a full-time job. But then, as I lived in her shoes, a group of girls cornered me in the restroom, kicking me mercilessly. Returning home, I was met not with care but with a sorry excuse for a meal. Only then did I begin to understand the pain my daughter had endured...

My mother is in the late stages of cancer. Yet, she sits in a wheelchair with an oxygen tube and endures a long train ride just to attend my wedding with Isaac Pudley. But when it's time for him to walk down the aisle, I don't see him anywhere despite screaming his name. It turns out his childhood sweetheart, Megan Ericsson, is having another depressive episode and is threatening suicide again. "Isaac, I can't live without you," she screeches. Isaac is always so stern and composed, but he now holds Megan in his arms and begs me to call off the wedding so they can leave. Relatives and guests watch the spectacle with thinly veiled amusement. To make matters worse, my mother is so angry that she faints. However, Isaac believes that my mother is feigning illness. He only wants to take Megan with him and leave. He even takes away my mother's wheelchair. But he seems to have forgotten that he has hurt me 97 times by now. After he hurts me 99 times, I’ll definitely leave him.

A car accident leaves me unconscious for a full three years. When I wake up, my family bursts into tears of joy. They care for me with the utmost attention. But from their behavior, I sense something is wrong. There are women's clothes in the house that don't fit me. My mother's shopping cart is filled with mysterious baby items. My father's friends send congratulatory messages about a new child, and my husband is always working overtime. When my husband once again leaves me alone under the pretext that there is something urgent at the company, I secretly follow him. Inside a warmly decorated house, my parents and husband sit around a table. A woman who looks almost exactly like me is holding a baby just a few months old, gently coaxing the child to call my husband "Daddy".