Pause Story Novels & Stories

Now everything is changing...with everyone of us sweeping under the carpet the scars of yesterday's sins. Those scars are what kept me alive until you are all born to hear the story. The world government was powerful and taking advantage of the human colonial minds, they buried our freedom and equity. But now that we the Elites whom they educated and rose to revolts against the fingers that had fed us... What do you call it? Oh! yes they had termed it Rebellion. They did call us rebels, for seeking a small ration part of the best that nature has given to mankind. Al-sural-tu-Nas. This for mankind, tell ye that the beast you trained in the dark had turned to an angel in the day. We are filled from the pot of lies now that our bellies cannot contain what they obtain, the promises that were compromised, treaties that were breached, least they covered the black mails and lies with a blanket of Diplomacy. But now is the snatch of the gallon beer from the drunkard because now there is what when diplomacy fails.....is war. "Now we are free." Later in the future a seed germinates bearing fruits of the YESTERDAYS as she possess the abilities to time travel and set broken pieces together but this has consequences in the future of mankind. Read along

On the fifth year of their marriage, finding the vitamin C her husband bought tasted too bitter, Jeanne Dotson went to the hospital with the bottle. The doctor took one look and frowned. "This isn't vitamin C." "I-I'm sorry, Doctor?" "I could say it a dozen times and it'd still be the same," the doctor replied, pointing at the bottle. "This is Mifepristone. Taking too much of it doesn't just cause infertility—it can do serious harm to your body." Jeanne felt a lump stuck in her throat, and her fingers turned pale from clenching the bottle. "That's impossible. My husband got this for me. His name is Darren Walsh—he's a doctor here too." The doctor looked up at her, his expression turning strange, tinged with something she couldn't quite read. After a pause, he gave a small smile. "Miss, you might want to visit the psych ward instead. We all know Dr. Walsh's wife—she gave birth just two months ago. Don't let your imagination run wild, all right? There's no point."

When I'm making a delivery, I receive a phone call from the bank all of a sudden. "Ms. Emily Sutton, we found out that your bank card with 7985 as your last four digits has made a withdrawal of five million dollars this morning. Are you in urgent need of money?" I pause in climbing the stairs. "Five million dollars?" The employee says yes before proceeding to repeat my bank card number. The bank card with 7985 as the last four digits is really my bank card. But the thing is, there isn't a single cent stored in that account. I feel my hands starting to tremble slightly. When I'm about to ask the bank employee what's going on, I happen to spot my husband, Marcus Wilde, walking into a real estate office a short distance away.

Our daughter was diagnosed with a genetic illness. To save her, my husband founded a charity in her name. To raise the funds, he pushed himself to the brink—working three hundred days straight, surviving on three hours of sleep a night. His relentless drive moved countless people. The media hailed him as "Father of the Year." Everyone congratulated me on having such a devoted partner. Then came the day he rallied the entire nation, securing pledges for millions in donations to fund our daughter's cure. At the gala, with over ten million dollars moments from being transferred, I suddenly hit the pause button. "And now, we'll take a brief intermission for a signing," I announced. The room erupted. They shouted at me, called me selfish, a monster. My husband stared at me, utterly stunned. "Have you lost your mind? Children around the world are waiting on this money to survive! What in God's name are you talking about?" I lifted my gaze to meet his. "A divorce agreement."

I was sound asleep the night before the wedding when a video call from my best friend, Eve, came in. “Aisling, my wedding’s starting in half an hour. Where is my maid of honor?” I pulled back the curtains and stared in resignation at the still night at one in the morning. “Eve, what are you talking about? It’s not even dawn. Who gets married in the wee hours? You’re working overtime as my alarm clock.” It was a pause on the line until Eve’s camera shifted to the blue skies behind the groom. “Are you still asleep, Aisling? It’s morning. “Our families have arrived. Everyone’s waiting on you. Get here quickly.” The call ended, and I snapped awake. Judging by the family members caught in the frame of the camera, it didn’t seem like a prank. The wedding venue was downstairs in the hotel ballroom, so the time difference didn’t make sense at all. Just in case, I put on my maid-of-honor dress and made haste to the venue. Right after I stepped out of my room, a drunk guest mistook me for an escort. During a struggle, he stabbed me to death. When I came to, I was back to the moment just before Eve FaceTimed me.

I exercised too hard during the day and, by midnight, a sharp pain tore through my stomach. When I checked my pants, there was blood. I called my friend immediately and had him rush me to the hospital. The moment I finished explaining my symptoms, the doctor did not even pause to think before saying, "This is a potential miscarriage. We need to start treatment right away." My eyes went wide. I opened my mouth to protest, but she steamrolled right over me. Her gaze dripped with contempt. "I see dozens of patients every day. I know exactly what you women are like. Probably had abortion after abortion in school with zero self-respect. Now that you're getting older, you want to trap some nice guy into cleaning up your mess." I had never met such an unprofessional doctor in my life. Anger flared in my chest, and I threatened to report her on the spot. She barely blinked. "Touched a nerve, huh? I'm just trying to help you out here. Doctors have it so hard these days. Tell someone the truth and complaints are all you get." The whispers started around me. People staring, judging, pointing. I had truly had enough. Had it occurred to literally anyone that I might just be a guy with long hair?

After closing a 100-million-dollar business deal, I dip into an ordinary-looking cafe by the street on a whim. "I'll have a cup of cappuccino, please." The waitress, who's immaculately dressed, rolls her eyes at me before sashaying toward me. In a fake, nasally tone, she says, "I'm sorry, but there aren't any servers here. I'm the owner of this place." She eyes me up and down before continuing, "The prices here are relatively high for regular people. Are you sure you want to order coffee from me?" I pause in the act of massaging my temple. Finally, I scan around the cafe. "Your cafe is nothing to look at. Are you saying that you're not going to serve regular people, then?" The owner's friend jumps up to her feet instantly at my comment. Then, she starts berating me angrily. "Gianna has opened this cafe just to burn her free time and contribute to the community by giving them a taste of what it feels like to be rich! How dare you question her! "Do you even know who Gianna is? She's the successor of Luxara Corporation! Her boyfriend is Levi Anderson, the CEO of Miller Group! How dare you talk to her like this! You won't be able to make a living in Westford anymore!" I raise an eyebrow in response. The man who had kneeled before me with tears rolling down his cheeks while begging me to invest in his company… was the boss of Luxara Corporation, if I remembered correctly. Also, isn't Levi that live-in husband of mine?

After the College Entrance Assessment ends, Chayce Clarkson, the younger brother I have raised for seven years, looks me in the eye and says calmly, "I turned in blank exam papers." I instantly freeze, unable to utter even a single word. A look of vengeful satisfaction flashes across his face as he delivers his next blow. "Jill and I never broke up, either. And it's for her that I didn't write a single word in the exams. She's not book-smart, so she won't be able to get into a decent college. I've already promised her that I'll spend the next four years just playing around with her." My heart shatters into a thousand pieces, but he clearly doesn't believe that he's done anything wrong. He meets my gaze without guilt, and his expression remains cold. "Either way, the exam is over now. If you accept my relationship with Jill, I'll still consider you my sister. If not, we'll sever ties right here, right now." His eyes drift to my trembling hands. After a slight pause, he adds, "But if you still want me as your brother, that's fine too. Just give Jill every dollar you've earned over the past seven years. Consider it your 'welcome-to-the-family' gift to her."

My company hosts an appreciation gala to thank long-time clients. I go to the company's cold storage to retrieve the batch of wine just flown in from overseas when a stream of comments suddenly appears before my eyes. "That was close! She almost caught Daisy covered in red wine and looking all seductive. Good thing Tristan reacted fast and hid her in the freezer." "Can Scarlett just leave already? Look how cold Daisy and Tristan are. They are shivering. What if they catch a cold?" I pause mid-step, my gaze landing on the freezer behind me. Red wine is dripping out, and a piece of fabric is caught in the door. On it, I see the motif I personally sew onto my fiancé's clothes. Just then, the comments appear again. "Tristan plays it cool, claiming he is all about platonic love and staying chaste for Daisy. What a touching romance!" I smirked coldly. The platonic act is fake. The truth is he's cheating on me. Without a word, I turn around and toss the clothes they leave on the floor into the trash. Then, I lock the cold storage door and call the boss, who is in the middle of giving a speech. I exclaim over the phone, "A thief broke into the company! I locked them in the cold storage. Please bring some men and come over quickly!"

I agreed to transfer out of Central Wolf Academy with Lucien because he said he was being bullied. Eighteen years old and still unawakened, in an academy obsessed with bloodline purity and dominance, he stood out in all the wrong ways. So he begged me to leave with him—to move to a less demanding school, where lineage mattered less. The day before we were supposed to finalize everything, I went to find him. Outside the door.That was when I heard it. One of his Beta companions drawled, amused. “I’ll give you that, Lucien. Pretending you were being hunted just to get her to leave Central Academy for you.” Another voice hesitated. “You two grew up together. You’re really letting her go like that?” Lucien answered without pause, his tone relaxed, faintly amused. “It’s not even overseas. She’ll be fine.” Then, colder. “She’s clung to me since we were kids. I was getting tired of it. This is… efficient.” I didn’t confront him.I turned and walked away. Back in my room, I reopened the transfer application. I crossed out the name of the ordinary werewolf academy he claimed he needed—and wrote in the one my parents had insisted on years ago. Everyone had forgotten something. I am the sole heir of the Bloodmoon Pack. And Lucien—an illegitimate son tolerated by the Silvercrest Alpha—would never touch the Alpha throne without a formal bond to me. One day, he would realize that what he discarded was not just my devotion.