Open When U Miss Me

My wolf had been wounded by silver. It took me two years to find a rare herbal cure. But before I could use it, my mate, Gary, gave it away—without hesitation—to my adopted sister, the Black clan’s darling, Jane. The healer told me I had only one week left to live. So, I made a decision: I would freeze my body. Preserve it. I donated myself to Jane’s Werewolf Research Facility—the one she took such pride in. The day I signed the donation agreement, my pup threw himself into my arms and said, “Mommy and Aunt Jane are finally getting along again!” My parents praised me, saying I had finally learned what sisterhood meant. Gary looked relieved. “You’ve finally let go of your resentment,” he said. “I’m proud of you.” I smiled faintly. Yes. I’ve finally learned to obey. I would return the title of Black clan heiress to Jane, and did my best to grant everyone their wishes. But it was only when they realized I could no longer fight back— when my body had been sealed away in cryostasis, cold and silent— that the regret began. Suddenly, they wanted to bleed for me. They wanted to compensate. They wanted to follow me into the grave. But where were they when I needed them, when I was still alive?

After being sent back in time, Emma Horten did two things. The first thing she did was abandon her ungrateful husband and son; the second thing she did was set out to rebuild her career.

On my fifteenth birthday, I begged my mom to teach me how to make a cream cake from scratch. We only had cream at home. No flour. So we went out to buy some. When we came back, we didn't walk into a birthday surprise. We walked in on my father pressing a strange she-wolf down onto the dining table. Cream was smeared all over her bare body. That night ended with my parents signing the Mating Dissolution Agreement. From that day on, cake became my nightmare, a taboo I could never touch. The night I mated with Alpha Kaelen of the Shadow Pack, amidst the pain and pleasure of his marking bite, I whispered in his ear. "Honey, if you ever want to end our mating, just bring me a cake." He frowned, his eyes burning with possessiveness, and kissed the words away. "Don't talk nonsense, Seraphina. You are my fated mate. How could I ever let you go?" Later, on his birthday, his intern secretary Elena ordered a three-tier luxury cake. Kaelen went into a rage, throwing both the cake and the intern out the front door. Back then, I was moved, even telling him not to be so harsh on a low-ranking wolf for my sake. But six months later, Elena had been promoted to Kaelen's personal assistant. On my birthday, she walked into my laboratory, swinging her hips, holding a burnt, homemade cake. I called Kaelen, asking him to remove the provocative item. On the other end of the line,his tone was casual. "Elena put her heart into making that for you. It would be cruel to throw it away. Be a good girl, don't be so sensitive. Have the grace of a Luna." The phone slipped from my hand. It turned out my mother wasn't wrong. Cake really is best served with a side of rejection papers.

"If life has a physical form, I would've planned a revenge, but life has none. So I'll just move on to the life's most beloved... the world." - Kirsten Mosqueda --- School's Mister friendly, Tyson Guevarra, finds a strange notebook sitting on the chair of the bus stop. Out of curiosity, he picked it up only to find a strange letter entitled 'When the f***ing world ends.' Intrigued as to how and why did the owner wrote the letter. He plans to get closer to her, oblivious to the fact that every step he take exposes him into a great danger. ------- DISCLAIMER This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, business, events and incidents are the products of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. Story started: 060921 Store ended: --/--/--

🆃🅷🅴🆁🅴 🅸🆂 🆁🅴🅰🅻🅻🆈 🅰 🅲🅷🅰🅽🅲🅴 🅸🅽 🆃🅷🅸🆂 🅻🅸🅵🅴🆃🅸🅼🅴 🆃🅾 🅼🅴🅴🆃 🅰 🅱🅰🅳 🅱🅾🆈. 🆆🅴 🅳🅾🅽'🆃 🆆🅰🅽🆃 🆃🅷🅴🅼, 🅱🆄🆃 🆆🅷🅰🆃 🅸🅵 🆈🅾🆄🆁 🆂🆃🆄🅿🅸🅳 🅷🅴🅰🆁🆃 🆆🅰🅽🆃🆂 🅷🅸🅼? 🆆🅷🆈 🅳🅾 🆆🅾🅼🅴🅽 🅿🆁🅴🅵🅴🆁 🅱🅰🅳 🅱🅾🆈🆂 🆃🅷🅰🅽 🆂🅰🅽🅴 🅶🆄🆈🆂 🅰🅽🆈🆆🅰🆈? 🆆🅷🅰🆃🅴🆅🅴🆁, 🅻🅴🆃 🅼🅴 🆂🆃🅰🆁🆃 🅴🅻🅰🅱🅾🆁🅰🆃🅸🅽🅶, 🅰🅽🅳 🅻🅴🆃'🆂 🅵🅸🅽🅳 🅾🆄🆃 🅰🆃 🆃🅷🅴 🅴🅽🅳 🆆🅷🆈 ... Justine Villafranca is the infamous son of a General, (who made a pact with his bestfriend to marry their children) . His son has no interest in business, it only causes headaches and trouble. So he came up with a good idea, this is probably the right time to teach him a lesson, he won't bequeath an inheritance to him if he doesn't marry Angela Dela Vega. What would happen if an angel and a demon lived together in the same place? Will these two different people get along well? Will it snow in hell or will the sky burn with heat ... ©All Rights Reserved

Mi novio, Pablo Pimentel, es el heredero de la familia más poderosa de la capital. Su fortuna supera los cien mil millones de dólares. Para ponerme a prueba, durante siete años de relación, nunca me regaló nada, nunca gastó un solo centavo en mí. Ni siquiera cuando iba a comprar condones: insistía en pagar mitad y mitad. Después, mi madre se enfermó de gravedad. Les pedí dinero a todos los familiares y amigos que pude. Solo me faltaban dos mil dólares para cubrir el costo de la cirugía. Le supliqué, le rogué. Pero Pablo no me prestó ni un dólar. Tuve que pagar yo sola los gastos del funeral de mi madre. Cuando regresé a casa para recoger mis cosas, encontré por casualidad una lista de regalos que le había comprado a Sara García: una villa de lujo, bolsos de marcas exclusivas, joyas valoradas en cientos de millones de dólares… También vi los audios en el grupo con sus amigos: "Pablo, ¿es cierto que Leticia se arrodilló para pedirte dos mil dólares?" Pablo se rió con frialdad, su voz sonó despreocupada, casi divertida. "Sara tenía razón: quien se arrodilla por tan poco dinero no es más que una interesada. Apenas llevamos siete años juntos y ya está desesperada por sacarme dinero." Resultó que siete años de "prueba" no valieron más que un comentario venenoso de su vecinita de al lado. No importa. Desde el momento en que mi madre murió, ya lo había decidido: desaparecer de su vida para siempre.

Thanks to Sofia Columbo, Luca Vitale and I keep breaking up and getting back together for three years. Exhausted and desperate to get out of this situation, I end up choosing to be with Don Marco Rossi, who has been pursuing me for many years. Since then, we've been together for five years. His love for me never wavers, and I truly believe that I've chosen the right man to be with. But at the bachelor's party that takes place one week before the wedding, Marco's Underboss, Enzo Ferrari, begins running his mouth without any filter whatsoever after he gets completely wasted. "Don Rossi, Anna actually fell in love with you for real! Does she even know that you're only marrying her just so Sofia can be with Luca?" Marco just smiles without denying the allegations. He merely says, "As long as Sofia can be with Luca, I'm fine with marrying whoever. Honestly speaking, I did get close to Anna with ulterior motives at first, but I still ended up falling in love with her for real. "By the way, do not let Anna find out about this, no matter what. You know how much she hates it when people lie to her. If she ever finds out, she'll leave me just like how she left Luca. That mustn't happen at all." After wiping my tears, I tell my father that I wish to marry the man he has picked out for me.

We have been dating for ten years, but Vincent Carter has never been romantic toward me. However, before our wedding, he has someone deliver a delicate bracelet and an elegant dress to me. I take photos of them happily, only to find a card tucked inside the dress that's not addressed to me. Just as I'm about to contact Vincent, I see a post from Emily Foster, his childhood sweetheart, on her social media. "Someone stole something that belongs to me!" That's also how I find out Vincent has also bought her an apartment. The address stated on the card is for the unit downstairs. The gift is meant for unit 701, but it's delivered to me by mistake. I pick up the items and go downstairs, just in time to see Vincent gently comforting her in his arms. The moment he sees me, his face darkens with irritation. "Can you stop overreacting? You're always suspicious for no reason. Emily and I grew up together. If we were going to be together, you wouldn't even be in the picture!" If it were before, I would've been furious and demanded an explanation. But now, I simply let out a chuckle and toss the gifts onto him. "I wish you both the best, then."

After an 800-meter run, I hide under the blanket to use the vibrating massager. At that moment, Uncle Theo barges into my room and asks coldly, "Does it feel that good?" I nod vigorously. The massage really does feel wonderful. Later, he yanks off his tie and uses it to bind my wrists. "It's too small and slow. Try me instead." I can only stare at him in bewilderment. But Uncle Theo, it's just a massage gun!

My wife, Caroline Bailey, was a forensic pathologist. For her first love, Ian Lawson, she was willing to break every rule she held sacred and allowed him into the autopsy room to observe. She even let him throw acid onto a corpse's face. That was, until Caroline took on a new case. As she stood over the disfigured body on her operating table, she began to fall apart. The acid-burned face was starting to look more and more like mine.