Ore No Class Ni Wakagaetta Manga

Mila is a fierce, resilient woman who doesn’t back down from challenges. She fell deeply in love with Alex, only to have her world shattered when he betrayed her with his mistress, Lily. Alex, obsessed with having a son, had divorced Mila after learning she supposedly couldn’t conceive. When Lily became pregnant, she secured her place by Alex’s side, leaving Mila devastated. Yet Mila, with her signature sass, decided to rebuild her life, throwing herself into her career with newfound strength. Just as Mila’s life starts to stabilize, she discovers something shocking: she’s one month pregnant. Reluctant to believe it, she re-tests, only to confirm the news. Soon, Mila learns the original claim of infertility was all part of Lily’s scheme to steal Alex and secure his wealth. Fueled by the betrayal, Mila sets out to reveal Lily’s deceit. But Lily is always one step ahead, twisting each of Mila’s moves to her advantage. Now, Mila faces her greatest challenge: outsmarting Lily and taking back control of her life, her dignity, and her future. Will Mila expose the truth before Lily’s schemes destroy everything?

During a company retreat to Colmar, I found out my boyfriend was going to propose at sunset, surrounded by colleagues. Instead, in the golden light, he dropped to one knee with a ring in hand in front of someone else. “Lana, I’m ready to be the father of your child. Will you marry me?” Lana, the woman Mark had loved for ten years, his unforgettable first love. I stared at the two, watching them embrace. Then I quietly turned away, booked myself a trip three days out, and went home for an arranged date. A year later, I ran into him again when I returned to the country. Mark’s eyes were bloodshot as he grabbed my wrist. “Rosie, you’re finally back. Don’t leave me again…”

On my birthday, I personally prepare 16 dishes. After setting up the candlelight, I open a bottle of red wine. I take a photo and send it to my husband, Eric Sinclair. "I'm working late tonight. Don't wait for me," he replies. I choose to believe him. But after midnight, I notice an Instagram story posted by Shirley Huxley, his secretary. Eric was there with her, dressed in the trench coat I once gave him. They sat side by side in the VIP seat of football stadium where my favorite Super Bowl take place. Entwined in a passionate embrace, they kissed beneath a sea of shimmering lights and the roar of thousands of fans. That game is the one I have always longed to experience with him. I look down at the cold food on the table. Eric's words keep ringing in my head. "I hate kissing." "Marriage is a partnership, not about love and kisses." Though we've been married for ten years, we've never shared a single kiss. Meanwhile, he's out there, kissing Shirley openly and passionately. Despite it all, not a single tear falls from my eyes. The next day, Eric settles into his chair, completely unfazed. "Return the gallery to Shelly," he commands. I nod quietly, saying nothing. Suddenly, Layla Sinclair, my daughter, comes running down the stairs and throws herself into Shirley's arms. "Aunt Shirley, you're my favorite. I don't like Mom!" In that instant, it hits me—the home I devoted my heart and soul to means nothing anymore. It doesn't matter that I've been married to Eric for a decade. Now, all I want is to find myself again. I decide to accept an invitation from the Parisoir School of Fashion Design. From this moment on, I won't wait for them to come home, and I won't look back.

My husband and I spend 50 loving years together. On the day of our golden wedding anniversary, someone pushes me down a flight of stairs. As I drift in and out of consciousness, I miraculously regain my hearing. I lost it in the process of saving my husband when we were younger. I hear my husband say to my son, "You shouldn't have dirtied your hands." "How long more are you going to put up with her, Dad? Calista doesn't have much longer to wait." My husband sighs heavily. After a moment, I feel someone remove my oxygen tube. I descend into boundless darkness. When I open my eyes again, I've been taken back to the 80s—before I married my husband. The only difference is that I can hear this time.

The last time I argued with my husband, he slammed the door on me and left. I was so upset that I died from a heart attack. Meanwhile, he took his lover and her son traveling to take his mind off things. The entire time, our daughter, who was just a child, was abandoned at home for seven days with my corpse. At last, when Eliott remembered me and my daughter, he returned home to see my corpse. Having fallen sick, my daughter was all skin and bones. When Eliott realized his mistake, he hugged our daughter tightly and broke down crying in front of my grave. My daughter pulled away from him and hid behind my gravestone. She hissed sharply at him, “Who do you think you are? Don't disturb Mommy’s rest!”

I had moved out of our house, but my boyfriend—the one I had given up everything to run away with—had no idea. Neither did his possessive younger brother, the one who used to knock on my door calling for me. My boyfriend's first love had taken up all their attention. They no longer listened when I played the piano. They even forgot about my cat fur allergy and brought that woman's cat home. My boyfriend, Ian Blake, had snapped, "If anyone's leaving, it's you. There's no way Eva's cat is going anywhere." His brother, Sebastian, had said, "Sienna, Eva is my girlfriend. How could I give up her cat for you?" When I woke up in the hospital after going into anaphylactic shock from my allergy, I decided to leave them. Back home, I made my first call to my mother. "Mom, I'm ready to accept the arranged marriage."

It has been said that Love is an emotion that makes us feel so many things. It’s the butterflies in our stomachs, our hearts beating fast in our chests and our palms sweating whenever that special someone is near. It is what everyone dreams of experiencing whenever they can.  But in Melina Garcia's case, it is something else, something more.  She did not ask her mother to marry another man, nor did she ask the man's son to call him sister. After all, they had no blood relation.  Melina Garcia was in love with her stepbrother and her stepbrother loved her back; The kiss on her 17th birthday made that all clear but the problem was….what were people going to say? could they ever find a place in society together? What would her friends say? would they understand Love Has No Boundary?

Dangerous Desires Book Two. The first time I laid eyes on Roman Castillo, there was a charge of electricity that ignited my pulse to surge—like a lightning strike in the night sky, zapping my broken heart to life. He was beguiling, the bearer of the most vivid blue-gray eyes I had ever seen. Everything about him had the ability to make my heart trash against my chest cavity and made me weak on the knees. And for me to feel all these strange feelings at our first meeting was borderline extreme in my book. So I gave him a show, one that he would never forget. I relished the way his eyes darkened, following every intricate movement of my body. Little did I know I was stepping into dangerous territory. An uncharted world where the most primal rule prevails—only the strong survive. I wasn’t ready for him. I wasn’t prepared for the danger of his world. And nothing prepared me for the secrets I’d unravel while falling deeply for him. Because in the world I live in, love is patient; love is kind. But in his world, love is a game with no rules. [Mature Content] Cover by DobolyuV

My husband lies to me about working late on Christmas Day. I know he wants to give me a surprise—I saw a jewelry set worth millions of dollars in his pocket. However, all I receive is the news of him pretending to be Santa Claus as he delivers a gift to his female secretary. She flaunts it on social media. "You're the most precious Christmas gift I've gotten." My husband changes the background photo on his social media to a photo of them together. I smile and like the post. Later, the secretary comes to me and smugly says she's pregnant. Meanwhile, I pull out a diagnosis report verifying that my husband is sterile. "Checkmate!" She visibly panics.

Our seventh wedding anniversary. I sat at the dining table—alone. My phone buzzed, lighting up with two messages. First, from Tom: [Working late at the office tonight.] Second, anonymous: [Tom is incredible. Can you even keep up?] Attached was a picture of him, lips locked with a woman I didn't recognize. I blew out the candles on the anniversary cake. Eyes shut, I typed back: [Let's divorce.]