Pocket Incoming Gift Code

On my husband's birthday, I poured my heart into preparing a feast and selecting the perfect gift. Yet, he didn't come home. Instead, I received a picture message—a snapshot of him at the hospital, standing outside the OB-GYN ward, his hand resting tenderly on his childhood crush's belly. Beneath the photo, a message read: [The best birthday gift and a symbol of our decade-long bond.] Furious, I called her. "Don't you know he's married?" Before I could say more, my husband snatched the phone and lashed out at me. "Yvonne just wanted to share the joy of becoming a mother. Why are you overreacting? "Yvonne and I have been best friends for over a decade. Your petty jealousy is disgusting!" I once believed his busyness was for our future, but now I knew—he had been busy supporting the girl of his dreams through her pregnancy. Clutching my own stomach, I bit my lip to stop the tears from falling. Ten years of love had drained away. It was time to let go.

I was on a business trip out of town when I got a text from my neighbor. [Can you and your husband keep it down? Also, one of your undies fell onto my balcony.] Shocked, I opened the photo she had sent. The underwear wasn't even my style, but it matched the one I'd seen in my husband's online shopping cart. He'd told me it was a gift for me, but I remember noticing the size—it was one size larger than mine. When confronted with the neighbor's message, my husband swore that the house must've been broken into and claimed the intruder left the item behind. But something about his story didn't sit right, so I decided to dig further. That was when I stumbled upon his social media. His latest post was just three words. [I bought this.] It was paired with a photo of a lingerie gift set. Beneath it, there was a comment. [I'm wearing it.] Attached was a picture of a woman's legs—and the unmistakable background of my living room. The evidence was undeniable. I packed up the underwear and brought it straight to the police. "My husband says our house was broken into. This was left behind by the intruder, and it might have DNA on it."

In the third year of our marriage, my wife’s ex-boyfriend of eight years suddenly posted a picture on social media showing off a multi-million-dollar wedding house. His caption read: “Wow, got myself a huge villa, I’m the master of charming women!” I stared in shock at the picture, which showed my wife swiping her card at a sales office, and left a single comment: "?" A second later, my wife called to scold me. “I was just fulfilling a promise I made to him back when we were dating, buying him a house. Why are you getting mad at him?” “What? Are you really going to be so vicious as to force me to break my word?” That evening, her ex showed off another lavish post, this time flaunting a renovation bill worth hundreds of thousands. I knew it was a gift from my wife to please him. But by then, I no longer cared.

Every bonding anniversary, Shawn would bring home a new human girl from the outside—always under the lovely pretense of letting me mentor her on how to serve an Alpha. On our seventh anniversary, he brought back a nightclub girl dressed in a Princess Snow White outfit—cheap satin trembling under the chandelier's light. “She doesn’t have anything appropriate for an occasion like this,” he said casually. “Let her borrow your bonding dress. And the jewelry I gave you last time. As for shoes—what you're wearing now will do.” Then he added, with a trace of irony, “She’s just a young human girl, clueless. Teach her a few things about our world, will you? Especially the part about the bed.” Everyone was waiting for the spectacle—for me to break again, as I always had. And I didn’t disappoint them. I looked at Shawn, my voice steady, and said I wanted a bond-severance. He laughed—short and sharp—and leaned back like he was watching a comedy. “Clara, when are you going to stop with this bond-severance nonsense? I’ve heard it so many times. They’re just human girls, while you are my Luna. How could they ever compare to you?” Then, grinning as if doing me a favor, he added, “Fine. If you really want a bond-severance, I’ll gift you a territory in the south. Consider it a reward for doing your job as my Luna.” The room erupted in laughter. To them, I was ridiculous—greedy, jealous, hysterical. But what they didn’t know was that this was the 365th time I’d asked for a bond-severance. And the first time, I truly meant it. When he found out I wasn’t joking this time, he lost his composure. He searched for me across the world—only after he realized I was no longer where he thought I’d always be.

The world is full of corruption, tragedy, and disaster. Rape, murder, embezzlement, human trafficking. You name it. There is nothing humans won’t do for money, power or self-gratification. More than that it always seems that the downtrodden and the good-natured always suffer the most. The cherry on top? All this suffering is supposed to be rewarded in heaven when you die…if you make it there that is. Sounds ridiculous, right? Don’t worry you aren’t alone. My name is Jasmine Peters and I’m sick and tired of being sick and tired as the world around me crumbles while Sky Daddy watches from his ivory tower. I was cursed with the ability to read minds and now I’m owning this curse on my own terms and saving whoever I can with it. If God won’t help us… I will.Gabriel: I’ll never understand The Almighty’s infatuation with these creatures. Humans demand so much, but yet they give so little and whatever they are given they destroy. The audacity of this human especially leaves me particularly annoyed. She dares to defy divinity and scoffs in the face of The Almighty when it was divinity that has gifted her with the ability to do so in the first place. Only a creature as lost as a human would be given a gift and label it a curse. Nonetheless, as the hand of The Almighty, I will do as I am asked by tending the flock and heard this lost sheep back to pasture. As troublesome as she may be, I fear there is something much more sinister at play and she appears to be at the epicenter of this chaos.

Five years ago, Fidelia was betrayed by her fiancé and her best friend. Not only that but she was also harmed by them, who pushed her to prison. After being released from jail, she is determined to find them to reclaim everything she has lost. Because of them, Fidelia suffered the scorn of many people. She thought no man would accept her because of the stain of her past until she met Declan. He was like a light of dawn, illuminating her soul and healing the wounds in her heart. And Fidelia is like a precious gift that God gave Declan to ease the pain of the past. However, when Fidelia and Declan were living in happiness, an event made their love difficult. Fidelia was involved in the death of Emily - Declan's wife, five years ago. Pain. Love. Enmity. What is the truth? Will love prevail, or will hatred conquer all?

I give my grandmother a gift she'll never forget on her 60th birthday. My husband and I get into a fight on the highway back to my hometown. He pulls over in the emergency lane and chases me out of the car. He then drives off, leaving me stranded on the highway. He later gets into a major accident on the highway. His car is totaled, and he dies. It's actually not an accident—it's homicide. I'm the murderer.

Emilia Blanche, 25 years old. Worked as a Quality Engineer in GoKaria Technology Inc. One day, she was given a celebratory gift and a three-day vacation and went to the place she planned to go during her college days. She never knew her alcohol meter so she decided to drink until she could. Upon returning to her rented room in a hotel, she felt dizzy but still could remember her room number which is 809 but she entered room 806. Many things happened and she discovered that she was six weeks pregnant. Will she be able to know who her child’s father is? How will she be able to handle her situation? What will her parent's reaction be?

In my past life, I was a rare treasure: the only she-wolf capable of bearing a pureblood werewolf heir. That singular gift made me a prize, claimed by Leon, the Alpha of the formidable Silvermoon Pack in North America. Leon's ambition burned with the desire for a child. A pureblood heir, he believed, would secure his ascension to President Alpha—the supreme leader of all North American Lycan packs. But fate, as it often does, twisted his expectations. After ten long months, I birthed a pup with gray fur and gray eyes which was different to the golden-marked purebloods. By all standards, a low-ranking wolf. Simultaneously, my sister Eve, wedded to the rival Seurin Pack, delivered a golden-furred, golden-eyed pureblood. Leon's dream of becoming President Alpha shattered in an instant. From that moment, he harbored a strong hatred for me and my pup. He forced wolfsbane down our throats and ended our lives with a silver blade in a cold merciless way. Only in my dying breath did the horrifying truth reveal itself: my own sister had stolen my gift—the ability to bear purebloods—using dark magic, claiming it as her own. Now, I am reborn. I find myself reliving the day Leon and Seurin arrived to propose marriage. Just as before, Leon chose my sister Eve without hesitation. I saw it in his eyes—he remembers everything. He, too, has been reborn. But this time, I possess the knowledge. Without me, he will never father a pup—not pureblood, not even half-blood. Not even a mutt.

On the company's designated monthly day off, Gigi Lott, Donald Hoover's secretary, posted an Instagram story. The caption read, "So what if you're the boss of me when we're at work during the day? At night, I'm the one on top!" In the photo, she was lying atop a water bed covered in rose petals, and the usually stern Donald was kneeling down to massage her feet for her. From his pocket hung a brand new golden necklace. Just that morning, I bought several gold bars and gave them to Donald while beseeching him to make our relationship public. He happily took the locket from me, but when I tried to take a photo of us with our phone, he smacked my phone out of my hands, smashing it into pieces. With a look of pure derision, he declared, "Why don't you take a good look at yourself in the mirror first? You really are a motherless wretch who wasn't raised right. Look at the lengths you'd go to just to ruin me!" Throughout the last five years, I had meekly gone along with his demand that we keep our relationship a secret, claiming it was because office romances were forbidden. But now, I was abruptly hit with the realization of how laughable it all was. The next day, I sent my father a message. "I admit defeat. I'm willing to come home and inherit the family business."