Post Apocalypse Truck

I'd been married to Joshua Merck for five years, but we still didn't have kids. To stay healthy, I took those pricey custom vitamins he ordered from overseas—never missed a dose. Then my cousin came back from studying abroad, took one look at the bottle, and was like, "That brand doesn't even make custom vitamins." I sent them to the hospital for testing. The lab report hit me like a truck—birth control pills. Powerful ones. Suddenly, all those mornings with Joshua hovering over me, acting so concerned while I took my "vitamins," made sense. The whole thing had been a lie. Five years of lies. Just as I was gearing up to confront him, my phone buzzed—a group chat notification. Shirley Hoare had tagged Joshua. [Honey, I had a prenatal checkup today, and the doctor said I'm carrying twins! Your family's about to get two grandchildren at once—excited?] My heart turned to ash. Everything clicked. Fine. We were done. I pulled out my phone and replied to my childhood sweetheart's message from three days ago: [After watching the northern lights, I still wanted to see penguins in Antarctica.]

Le jour de notre anniversaire de mariage, la « muse » de mon mari a posté une échographie d’un fœtus sur Facebook, accompagnée d’un texte : « Merci à cet homme extraordinaire qui m’a soutenue pendant dix ans et m’a offert un fils. » J’ai failli m’évanouir en voyant ça, mais j’ai quand même laissé un commentaire : « Tu as eu un fils avec lui tandis que tu sais qu’il est marié ? » Quelques minutes plus tard, mon mari m’a appelée, furieux : « Tu vois le mal partout ! Je ne fais que lui prêter mon sperme pour une FIV. Elle voulait juste être maman célibataire. » Puis il a ajouté : « En plus, Réa est tombée enceinte du premier coup. Toi, tu as essayé trois fois et toujours rien. Ton ventre ne sert à rien ! » Trois jours avant, il m’avait dit qu’il partait à l’étranger pour affaires. Il ne répondait ni à mes appels ni à mes messages. Je pensais qu’il était occupé. Mais non. Il était avec elle pour son rendez-vous de suivi de grossesse. Une demi-heure plus tard, Réa a partagé une photo d’un festin. « Marre de la cuisine au Pays M. Et Luc a cuisiné pour moi, tout ce que j’aime ! » Je regardais les résultats de ma prise de sang confirmant ma grossesse, mes mains tremblantes, alors que ma joie se transformait en désespoir glacé. Huit ans d’amour fou. Six ans de compromis douloureux après le mariage. Cette fois, c’est fini. Je lâche tout.

Jenny posted a picture of me and her brother, who had an intellectual disability. The caption? "Finally, a happy ending!" The comments were all the same: "Is this your sister-in-law? She’s gorgeous!" I simply replied with a question mark, but Jenny ignored me and responded to someone else instead. "She's kinda my sister-in-law, yes!" It didn't take long for Steven to call me, his tone full of anger. "It was just a little edit, do you really have to blow things out of proportion?" Half an hour later, Jenny posted another photo of her sitting in Steven's luxury car, and even tagged me in it. "We may not be related by blood, but this big brother of mine has always been my rock!" Steven commented. "I'll always be here." I knew he was trying to get a rise on me on purpose to appease Jenny, but I didn't grace them with a reply this time. All I did was like the post and file for divorce.

Rez came from a long line of post, elegant, rich New York Socialites. But she's everything they're not and her mom just wants her to be the perfect little rich girl. But she couldn't and she didn't want to. She's better off being bad, going to rave parties, getting tattoos and piercings. Then she met the good boy Jack...

For millennials, an unsatisfied demon had been plotting to overthrow the supremest being known as Savior. He finally learns his daughter has provided him with the keys to go to war eventually. The four realms that exist are threatened due to the impending war, and the life of an innocent child who would be responsible for causing the war is on the line.

Right before I hit forty, my husband hit me with: "I want a divorce." For the past ten years, I had been driving a truck outside every day to support my family, while he had been cheating on me at home. Even our child was no longer close to me. "Bad Mom! You hit Jenny! Bad Mom!" Willy cried. "I don't want Mom. I want Jenny. I wanna stay with Dad and Jenny!" Jenny. The neighbor. Single mom. Her kid and ours were tight. Ten years of grinding, running myself ragged—for two ingrates? All right! Wish your family of four a happy life! I didn't want my husband or son anymore.

In the third year of my marriage, I endure a full day of painful labor to give birth to my first child. However, my husband steals the baby to give to his true love. I try my damnedest to stop him, but all I get is a barrage of insults. "It's just a baby! I'm the one who planted the seed, so I get to decide who gets the fruit!" I'm overwhelmed by grief as I watch my husband leave. However, he shares a happy post on his social media. "Mother and daughter are safe." His true love comments, "Thank you for giving me a child, Jaspie. I'll be the happiest woman in the world with you two by my side." Clueless friends bless them and wish them well. I silently comment, "Give me back my child." All I get is another round of insults. Then, I'm blocked. I don't want to endure this anymore. I hire a lawyer to draft divorce papers before making a police report. "Officer, I want to report my husband for child trafficking."

After June is left all alone to survive in the zombie apocalypse, a stranger appears and saves her. Hunter is full of secrets and didn’t save June for no reason. He fights to win her heart and she has to choose between a life of luxury and comfort or be on the run forever.

Charles Jansen's true love returns to the country in my seventh year with him. The first post on her social media after she lands is an intimate photo of them together. She captions it, "I'm glad we've come full circle." Only then do I find out the ring hidden in the living room isn't for me. Charles' proposal isn't for me, either. Suddenly, I feel exhausted.

I double over in pain after assisting Adrian Randall with a late-night operation. He immediately carries me to a ward to check on me. However, before he can do that, he receives a call from a patient and hurries off. That night, I miscarry. When I come out of the operating theater, I see his childhood friend's social media update. She's shared a photo of her baby bump. "He hurried to come to my side just because I was lost. You have to treat Adrian well in the future, my darling!" I rub my belly, which throbs with a dull ache. I don't cry and demand an explanation from Adrian as I would have in the past. Instead, I like the post and apply for a position on the Borderless Medical Assistance Program. The day I leave, the high and mighty Dr. Randall looks at me with red-rimmed eyes. He asks, "How can you bear to leave me behind?"