Post Coenam Artinya

Late that night, I came across a post online. [I've been with my boyfriend for seven months. Out of nowhere, he dumped me, saying I got eliminated from the girlfriend selection. That's when I found out that in their rich social circle, it's normal to date a dozen girls at the same time, score them regularly, kick out the lowest, and pick the best one to marry.] It sounded so ridiculous. I couldn't help but jump into the comments and tear into the guy. Then I saw a reply from my boyfriend's secretary, Ayla Butler. [Well, considering his status, it's only fair. For high-value men like him, a selection process makes sense.] I rolled my eyes so hard that it almost hurt. I was just about to fire back when I heard the front door open. Fred Thompson and I had been together for five years. He had always been attentive, gentle, and endlessly patient. I had already made up my mind that the moment he proposed, I would tell him the truth about who I really was, the daughter of the richest man in the country. I never expected to catch a glimpse of his phone lighting up with a message. [You hooked up with Ayla again today? Gave her such a high score, too. Keep this up, and Hannah's gonna lose!]

On our third wedding anniversary, I waited for Xander Christian for five hours at his favorite restaurant. Once again, he has disappeared. In the end, I found out where he went on the social media of his childhood sweetheart, Josie Law. He took her to Antartrica. [I just said I was in a bad mood, so he ditched the whole world just to cheer me up. Turns out, he cheers me up much more than the penguins.] In the photos, it was all icy and frosty, but he held her gently in his arms. I had never seen such blazing warmth in his eyes. Not once was it ever directed at me. At that moment, I was just tired. I was too tired to question. I was too tired to fight. I was too tired to cry. I simply liked the post and sent him a short message, [Let's get a divorce.] A long time later, he finally replied with a voice message, his tone was full of careless amusement, "Sure. I'll sign the papers when I'm back. We'll see who ends up begging me not to leave." Those who were loved and favored were often fearless. He didn't believe my words at all. Yet, Xander— No one was truly indispensable. People would only stay because they were in love. From this moment on, I no longer loved you.

Selama lima tahun, Alessandro Wijanarko adalah sosok pria sempurna. Setidaknya, itulah yang selalu kupercaya. Semua keyakinan itu runtuh pada malam pesta pertunangan kami, saat perempuan simpanannya menerobos masuk, menggandeng seorang bocah lelaki berusia sekitar lima tahun. Anak itu langsung berlari ke arah Alessandro sambil menangis tersedu. “Ayah! Ayah, akhirnya aku menemukanmu!” Ini pasti lelucon. Lelucon yang kejam dan menjijikkan! Namun, Alessandro menoleh padaku. Tak ada lagi kehangatan dalam suaranya ketika dia berbicara. “Ini putraku, Rivan. Sebuah … kesalahan yang Chyntia dan aku buat lima tahun lalu.” Dadaku menegang. “Rivan adalah pewaris Keluarga Wijanarko. Aku harus beri mereka status,” lanjutnya datar. “Artinya, aku harus bertunangan dengan Chyntia dulu.” Dia menatapku, seolah masih berhak memintaku memahami segalanya. “Tapi, Saskia, percayalah. Aku masih mencintaimu. Kita bisa menggelar pesta pertunangan enam bulan lagi. Kamu tetap akan jadi Nyonya Keluarga Wijanarko. Aku harap kamu bisa bersikap lapang dada. Ini keputusan finalku.” Aku tertawa, dingin, singkat, dan tajam, lalu menarik cincin pertunangan dari jariku dan melemparkannya begitu saja. Pandangan mataku menyapu ruangan, lalu berhenti pada seorang pria di sudut aula. Kresna Kartawijaya. Bos mafia paling berkuasa di Vantros. Dan aku satu-satunya pria yang mengetahui satu gelar lain dirinya. Yaitu pria yang sejak lama berniat menjadikanku miliknya. “Kresna,” panggilku, suaraku tenang dan jernih. “Aku sedang butuh tunangan baru. Kamu tertarik tidak?”

Terdapat banyak adegan 21+ Harap bijak dalam membaca Karena kepemilikan saham dan beberapa aset mewah yang diberikan pada keluarganya, Elena terpaksa menikah dengan putra pewaris tunggal pemilik Corazon Group, bernama Leon Lawrence. Sayangnya sang suami adalah seorang pemuda dengan keterbelakangan mental. Leon juga tidak bisa menyentuh Elena layaknya seorang lelaki. Padahal Leon adalah satu-satunya harapan untuk menyambung garis keturunan keluarga Lawrence. Hingga pada suatu malam, ayah mertua Elena mendatangi kamarnya dan meminta izin untuk meniduri Elena sampai ia benar-benar hamil. Karena mendapatkan kehangatan dari Reviano Lawrence hampir setiap malam, Elena menjadi serakah. Ia bukan hanya sekedar menikmati, tapi juga berusaha agar terus bisa mendapatkan kenikmatan yang selalu diberikan oleh sang mertua. Di kemudian hari, Reviano menyadari kalau anak perempuan yang Elena lahirkan bukanlah anak biologisnya. Lantas siapa yang telah menghamili Elena? “Tuan Rev, Anda didiagnosis mengidap Azoospermia yang menjadi penyebab kemandulan permanen.” Dokter Frederick mengatakan hal yang membuat Reviano bersumpah akan membunuh Elena. Namun di saat ia hampir saja menghilangkan nyawa wanita itu dengan cekikannya, Elena mengatakan hal yang membuatnya terasa disambar petir hingga ribuan kali. “Aku mengaku kalau pernah tidur dengan lelaki lain, Dad. Tapi kalau memang benar kau mengidap Azoospermia, bukankah itu artinya Leon juga bukan anak kandungmu?”

Aku meninggal di hari aku memenangkan Penghargaan Doktor Medis Global. Tiga jam setelah kematianku, orang tua, kakak laki-laki, dan tunanganku baru saja pulang dari pesta ulang tahun ke-16 adik perempuanku. Ketika adikku mengunggah foto keluarga kami saat merayakan ulang tahunnya di media sosial, aku sedang terbaring di ruang bawah tanah yang tertutup rapat dan berlumuran darah. Aku mencoba menggunakan lidahku untuk menggeser layar ponsel dan meminta bantuan. Di antara kontak darurat, hanya tunanganku yang menjawab panggilanku. Artinya orang tua dan kakakku telah memblokir nomorku. Begitu telepon diangkat, tunanganku hanya mengucapkan satu kalimat, “Karin, pesta ulang tahun Lina yang ke-16 itu sangat penting. Jangan pakai alasan nggak masuk akal untuk cari perhatian kami dan bersikap manja lagi!” Dia menutup telepon dan memutus harapan terakhirku untuk bertahan hidup. Jantungku berhenti berdetak karena nada sibuk telepon. Ini adalah ke-100 kalinya mereka memilih adikku, ke-100 kalinya mereka mengabaikanku, mengecewakanku, dan ini juga yang terakhir. Aku terbaring di dalam genangan darahku sendiri, merasakan napasku perlahan berhenti. Mereka mengira aku kabur dari rumah lagi sebagai alasan untuk melampiaskan ketidakpuasanku. Mereka pikir bahwa selama mereka memberiku pelajaran, aku akan kembali dengan patuh seperti 99 kali sebelumnya. Sayangnya, itu tidak akan terjadi kali ini. Karena aku tidak pernah meninggalkan rumah, aku terus terbaring di ruang bawah tanah rumahku.

My father, a lone werewolf, had come all the way from the Obsidian Pack while battling an illness, to attend my union ceremony with Dean Willows, Alpha of the Moonstone pack and CEO of Willows Industries. It was my father's last wish to see me get married before he died. He was elated that his dreams were finally coming alive. Unknown to him, I had arranged a fake marriage with Alpha Dean. I had knelt outside the Willows mansion for many hours with my father's medical records in hand, begging him profusely before he finally agreed to play along in this wedding charade. But when the full moon rose high in the sky, Dean abandoned me, leaving me to face the pack's judgment alone. My father's heart gave out the moment he saw me standing there, all alone without my so-called mate. While taking his final breath at the hospital, he whispered to me in warning: "Arianna , beware of the Moonstone Pack..." and gave up the ghost. My heart was heavy with grief. I then saw Dean's childhood sweetheart, Vivien Cross, post on social media: "Only the unloved one is the third wheel." That was the last straw. I sent Dean a breakup message, severing our union. He responded by bringing the she-wolf, Vivien to our apartment, flaunting his new alliance.

Le jour où j’ai appris que Robert avait laissé tomber tout ce qu’il faisait pour apporter des médicaments à sa petite assistante enrhumée, alors même que j’étais coincée dans un ascenseur, en proie à une violente crise de claustrophobie, j’ai pris ma décision : demander le divorce. Robert a signé les papiers sans la moindre hésitation, puis a plaisanté devant ses amis : « Elle fait juste un petit caprice. Ses parents sont morts, elle n’a personne d’autre que moi. Elle ne pourra jamais divorcer. » « Et puis, il y a bien un délai de réflexion de trente jours, non ? Si elle change d’avis, je serai magnanime et je la laisserai revenir. » Le lendemain, il a posté une photo de couple avec sa petite assistante sur les réseaux sociaux, avec une légende pleine de suffisance : « Capturer chacun de tes moments précieux. » De mon côté, je comptais les jours en silence. Calmement, j’ai rangé mes affaires et composé un numéro. « Tonton, peux-tu m’acheter un billet pour ville N ? »

As I head to see my boyfriend, Howard Schultz, who is working late, I get into a car accident. I call him dozens of times for help, but he doesn't answer a single one. Staring at his brightly lit office building not far away, I sink into despair. When I wake up in the hospital, I see a post from his subordinate. It's a picture showing the reflection of the two of them in the glass door, standing far closer than they should, with the caption, "What do I do when my boss is scolding me late at night?" Unwilling to believe it, I call him again. This time, he finally answers. My voice trembles. "Howard, I got into a car accident…" "Celine, I'm still working. I'll send my assistant to take care of it, okay? Be good. I'll see you after I come back from my business trip." I try to say more, but his angry shout suddenly cuts through the line. "Crystal Jennings! You're only allowed to bring one suitcase for this trip. Why do you have three? Do you think we're going on vacation?" Crystal Jennings—the new intern Howard just hired. I stare at the disconnected call, tears drying on my cheeks. I then call my parents instead. "I agree to the engagement you arranged."

On the day of my 30th birthday, my CEO wife, Sabrina Langford, leaves hurriedly at 3:00 am. She claims that there's something urgent going on at the company and that she won't be home the whole day. Later on, Timothy Cross, the low-income university student that Sabrina has been sponsoring, updates his social media feed. In the photo, I see Sabrina standing at the side of the road in a bikini. Two big apples are balanced on her 36D bust. The caption of the photo is, "The beautiful and hot CEO has personally come over to my house to help me sell the homegrown apples. You'll regret it if you don't buy these apples from me!" My brows are drawn into a frown immediately. When I call Sabrina, the call goes through rather quickly. "I told you I'm very busy at the company right now. If you disturb me again, I'm not going to forgive you this easily!" After that, Sabrina ends the call. But right before the call gets cut off, I can hear a car honking in her background. I'm not mad at her at all. She likes helping others to sell fruits, right? I might as well lend her a helping hand. So, I share the social media post to the company's group chat. The message I've drafted is, "Does anyone here want a batch of rotten apples? I'll even throw in a second-hand wife for free."

My father suffered a heart attack and collapsed. Emergency treatment required the installation of a cardiac stent. I asked my husband to approve an expense of 10 thousand dollars for the surgery. Cameron Lister, the CEO, refused coldly, "The company and family accounts have been frozen recently because of a major project. Your father has medical insurance, so just use a cost-effective domestic stent for now." He was the sole administrator of all the bank cards in my family. His reply made me sorrowfully realize something. Even though I was a genius architectural designer with an annual income of 600 thousand dollars, I was still not worthy of choosing a better life-saving device for my own father. It was a Twitter post forwarded by a colleague, freshly and gleefully posted by the company intern Wendy. [Cameron is so nice. I just said I liked painting, and he gave me a million dollars to organize an art exhibition. I love him so much!] I looked at my father lying on an extra bed in the hospital corridor, groaning in pain, and then looked at the photo of them sweetly embracing each other. I finally understood that Cameron had perhaps never truly loved me. He had only treated me as a stepping stone for his soaring career, and as a tool for him to exploit without limits. 'If this is what you want, Cameron, then don't blame me for being ruthless,' I said inwardly.