Poem Of Saying Goodbye

Carl Larson's intern is about to die, and her only wish is for him to sleep with her once. I disagree, and he says I'm petty. "It's just a one-time thing. She's about to die! Why do you have to assume I'm up to something dirty?" Is that so? I've seen them together more than once, though. I later agree, and he's relieved… until he sees me lying on his operation table for an abortion. He widens his eyes in disbelief. "What are you doing here?" I smile. I want him to murder his child. I want him to regret this for life.

I was reborn. Opening my eyes on the sofa, the television flickered before me, broadcasting another financial news segment about my husband, Jasper Brolin. The Alpha of the Moonblood pack, a man who had sat at the top of the billionaire list for years, was speaking with his usual cool authority. Broad-shouldered and sharp-featured, he carried an air of cold command that made him untouchable. Whenever he stepped into the public eye, the crowd surged with screams and breathless admiration. My marriage to him was the envy of our entire circle, and every woman wished to step into my shoes. As I watched the screen, memories of my tragic death in my last life came rushing back, sending a quiet ache through my chest. My wolf rumbled low in my chest. "So we're back. Now what?" "Break the bond," I whispered. "I'm leaving him." "He'll never agree to that." "That's why I need her help," I replied, thinking of the woman I had always disliked—Halle. Halle walked into the café, a smug smirk was plastered on her face. Having grown up alongside Jasper, she was regarded as his inner circle, and people never failed to give her the highest courtesy. I slid a mate-bond dissolution document across the table. "I need your help, Halle. And of course, there's something in it for you too." She glanced through the papers, suspicion flashing in her eyes. "Are you leaving him?" she asked. My voice was calm, "Maybe you're the one he really wants by his side." In my last life, I was the perfect Mrs. Brolin, envied by all, yet never the one he held closest. This time, I would take my unborn pup and leave quietly.

Some people come into our lives some will stay and some will leave. Any of that two I believed that we don't meet people accidentally. We meet them with purpose, to teach us something or to simply add value to our life. Sedriano the man who came into my life, the man who made my world upside down. The man who values loves and gives me pain. The man who gives me butterfly kisses on my stomach. We were too young when we fell in love but I was so sure that it will last. With the promise, we made together with his bitter goodbye. This is our story.

On Valentine's Day, I set up a candlelit dinner and waited. At 9 PM, my husband, Alfred Johnston, finally texted. [Something came up at work. Don't wait for me.] Then I saw her post. [On a business trip with the CEO for Valentine's Day. Every hotel is fully booked—awkward...] Vivian Bianca, his secretary. Attached was a photo of a guy in a bathrobe, standing by a floor-to-ceiling window. The comments were all 'ooh, CEO's so hot and girl, you're in for a night.' Vivian? Just dropped a smug emoji. So that's what "something came up" meant—a romantic getaway with his secretary. I screenshotted it, posted it on my own feed, and added a smiling emoji. A second later, Alfred called, fuming. "Vivian was joking! Why are you so petty? She's young, not as calculating as you!" I didn't let him finish. "Then let's get a divorce. That way, I won't have to care when you screw around and catch something."

Vincenzo Moretti was Stonehaven’s youngest financial titan— a tech mogul commanding a multibillion-dollar empire, gracing the covers of business magazines as a modern legend. But only a select few knew the truth: he was also the ruthless Don controlling the East Coast mafia. To him, wealth and power were mere chips in a game. And I? I was just another pawn used to stabilize a fragile family alliance. In our ten-year marriage, he slept with my friends, my coworkers… every single person I once trusted. Then one morning, as I took our one-month-old baby for a routine checkup, Sienna Newton, his latest mistress, ran me down with her car. The baby screamed endlessly. I begged her to take us to the hospital, and when Vincenzo arrived, he looked at me with cold disdain. “Isabella,” he sneered, “when did you learn to stage accidents? “Even if you died here, I wouldn’t bat an eye.” Then he took Sienna’s hand and walked away without a backward glance. By the time I was rushed to the hospital, the child in my arms had suffocated. Upon hearing the news, my mother suffered a heart attack. She didn’t survive. I slipped into a coma for two days. When I finally woke up, I found out that Vincenzo never visited. Instead, his father, Renato Moretti, the true king of the Moretti empire, stood by my bedside. I looked at him calmly and said, “Let me go. Whatever I owed your family, I’ve repaid in full with two lives.” Later, that same Don who had once looked down on me knelt before me, begging me to come home. But I was no longer the woman who waited, silent and broken, for his change of heart. I was the Don’s wife who turned away and never looked back.

That winter, our whole family went skiing in Aespen, Amestia. It was a popular spot for werewolf nobles and the wealthy. Then, the avalanche struck. My father's first instinct was to scoop up Summer—his sleeping adopted daughter—and flee. My mother, panicked, still made sure to grab the stray puppy Summer had found. They returned to the Moonshadow Pack that same night, posting a flood of photos online and rejoicing over their miraculous escape. Not one of them remembered me. Their biological daughter was still buried beneath the snow, waiting for rescue. When I was finally rescued, I did not look back. I took my mentor's offer to study abroad and left the pack behind. I moved to Cascade City to study medicine. No more pleading, no more shrinking myself in hopes of earning back my family's love. Yet they only seemed more disgruntled. "Rose, why aren't you competing with Summer for our attention anymore?"

My boyfriend is a forensic artist. He was forced to make a harrowing decision to save his first love. At the killer's demand, he created a portrait from a photo—he never realized that the young girl in the photo was me in my childhood. Two weeks later, the police investigate a grisly bomb explosion and dismemberment case. The victim's identity was unrecognizable, and the investigation dragged on for days as the authorities desperately searched the blast site, looking for my remains. After three days and nights, they finally recovered enough of my remains to reconstruct my face. When my boyfriend unknowingly brought the shattered fragments back to life with his art, he was confronted with a horrifying truth—one that drove him to the edge of madness.

"Leave this country and don't ever come back!" Being the sole survivor of her family's tragic car accident, a mysterious man gave Stephanie Ruan a chance to flee for her life. Eight years later, Stephanie Ruan returned to the country as the director of an internationally renowned publishing firm. Upon knowing that her family's car accident is related to the prestigious Zhong Family, her best bet is to get close to Javier Zhong to find out the truth and avenge her family members. "I want to be your fiancé." With her new identity and strong character, she fearlessly plotted against the most powerful and ruthless man in the country, Javier Zhong. Unlike other women whose biggest dream is to marry him, Stephanie Ruan spat out those words with much unwillingness. Of course, to scheme against such a dangerous man, there would be risks and sacrifices involved. She could either be killed by him or... unexpectedly fall deeply in love with him? Whichever the result is, Stephanie Ruan knows that once she enters this game, there is no turning back!

On their third anniversary, Finley had all their friends over to celebrate. Claire walked in to find him on one knee, proposing to his childhood friend, Renee. "What is going on?" she asked. He shrugged like it was nothing. "It's just a game of truth or dare." But it wasn't until he shoved her down the stairs, causing her to miscarry, that she finally woke up. She'd given him five chances. Now? She was done. "Finley, it's over. Let's get divorced."

My husband did not love me, and he certainly did not love our child. On the day our son was born, he did not even glance at him. He merely tossed him into my arms. Then, his first love came back from overseas. That night, the ever-cold Henry had gotten drunk for the first time. He even smiled as he held our child in his arms. Delighted, our son wrapped his little arms around my husband's neck and asked me in a soft voice, “Mommy, what’s wrong with Uncle?” I crouched down, pulling him into my embrace. My eyes reddened as I explained, “Uncle's favorite person came back, so we shouldn’t bother him anymore. We’re going to find a new home.”