Qibli X Winter Novels & Stories

I was the hospital's top surgeon. After three successful surgeries, Medical Affairs decided to reprimand me in front of the whole hospital and canceled my bonus for the month. I argued with the head of Medical Affairs. "I've been working for this place for ten years, and I've always been the first to do everything! I went through five surgeries nonstop last year and had to go through one myself for exhaustion! What did I do to deserve this?" Yes, I was the top surgeon, but the bills were stressing me out, too. My husband had just lost his job, and I had to pay for the car, the mortgage, and our kid's extracurriculars. The burden I had to shoulder wasn't an easy one. So, I was counting on that bonus to get my kid into a basketball club, and now it had been taken away from me. This couldn't be happening! I couldn't believe that they were blaming me for a successful surgery! I was high up in the hierarchy here, so the department head didn't start a fallout right away. Instead, he tried to calm me down. "You drank two bags of IV during the late-night surgery and charged the patients for it. Their family's complaining about unfair fees, and it went viral. We had no choice!" That reminded me. That surgery was a complex one, and it wasn't even supposed to be assigned to me. After all, I'd been working around the operating table for 36 hours prior to that. However, it was the deputy director who came to me and insisted that I take over. I had no choice but to go ahead.

On our honeymoon tour, my husband and I faced an earthquake. I thought I was lucky to have booked a flight home, but then Ethan Parker snatched my passport and fled with my stepsister, Lily Foster. Stranded on a foreign land, I saw her new post. Lily: [Talking about clinginess, no one beats Ethan.] An attached photo showed their hands intertwined. In the chaos, someone stole my phone and cash. When aftershocks hit, I couldn't escape and got buried in a collapsed building. When I opened my eyes again, I was back to the day of the first quake. Seeing Ethan bolt from Lily's room, I didn't say a word, just quietly canceled his plane ticket. If they loved each other so much, I'd let them go on and be a doomed couple.

Sera Vale has one rule. Survive. No attachments. No illusions. No one worth losing sleep over except her brother Damien, who has always been more trouble than sense and twice as easy to love. When three men tear her door off its hinges in the middle of the night and carry her blindfolded into a world she never knew existed, Sera does what she has always done. She endures. The man waiting for her is Kael Dravon. Alpha. Cold the way deep water is cold. Dangerous the way beautiful things always are. He doesn't want her. He wants what her brother stole. Sera is leverage. One month, he tells her. Then she goes free. She tells herself she can last one month. She doesn't count on the blood bond. She doesn't count on what happens when something ancient cracks open between them, raw and unstoppable and impossible to name. She doesn't count on the way he looks at her when he thinks she isn't watching. She doesn't count on wanting to stay. Kael built his entire world on control. The last thing he needs is a human woman with quiet fire in her eyes and blood that makes his wolf forget every rule he has ever lived by. But the bond doesn't care what either of them needs. And the rival Alpha closing in from the borders isn't just hunting territory. He's hunting Sera. Because what runs in her blood is older than pack law and more powerful than anything Kael has ever had to protect. Now she must decide if the man who chained her was the only one keeping her safe all along. Bound by blood. Owned by fate. Some bonds were never meant to be broken.

My son spiked a sudden high fever, scorching like a flame under my touch. I frantically dialed 911 for help, but the dispatcher on the line kept repeating questions, dragging it out. By the time the ambulance siren finally wailed in the distance, my son had already grown cold and still in my arms. Less than a year later, my husband and I split up amid endless grief and finger-pointing. I dragged on like an empty shell until one day I got an e-invite to his wedding. The moment I clicked the voice message, my blood ran cold. The bride's voice echoed exactly like that sluggish dispatcher from back then. In a breakdown, I bolted out of the house and got caught in the path of a speeding subway train, plunging me into darkness. When I opened my eyes again, my son's cries pierced the air from the next room, his forehead blazing hot against my palm. My husband thrust the phone toward me. "Quick, call 911! I'll grab a cold compress." My hands trembled as I dialed, and a chillingly familiar voice answered, "Hello, 911 emergency services."

My suitcase, filled with precious and expensive birthday gifts, was mistakenly claimed by another person at the airport. When I opened the one left behind, I found it packed with men’s clothes instead of my belongings. Determined to retrieve what was rightfully mine, I went on a frantic search for the man who had taken my suitcase. When I finally confronted him and politely asked for an exchange, he responded with the gentlest of tones: “Oh, I opened it and realized I’d made a mistake—it’s all women’s items.” I breathed a sigh of relief, ready to thank him and express my gratitude. Then he added casually, “I couldn’t use any of those things, so I sorted them out and gave them to my girlfriend. You’re welcome.” My jaw dropped. I could barely muster a response as I muttered under my breath, “What the hell?”

My parents have invited all of their relatives and friends to our villa for a nice gathering to celebrate their golden anniversary. Isabel Atkinson, my wife who works as a model, suddenly calls me on the phone and claims that she needs to attend an urgent meeting hosted by her client. Before it's my turn to give a speech on the stage, my assistant suddenly hands my phone over to me. "Mr. Marsh, you might want to take a look at this…" The screen shows a social media post made by Miles Horton, an intern designer at our company. "At this moment, she belongs to me and me only." In the photo, Isabel can be seen sitting in a dimly-lit room. A few plain-looking dishes decorate the table. Her hair is slightly messy, but she continues to smile at the elder next to her. A cold, mocking smile appears on my face. It turns out that her so-called emergency meeting is a family gathering with Miles. I leave a comment in the comments section. "The food looks pretty tasty. I'd like to visit you next time." Chaos erupts on the social media feed instantly. Isabel calls me immediately. "Why are you being such a phony? You'd better delete the comment right now!" I just chuckle coldly as I end the call. Then, I send her a copy of the divorce papers I've drafted. Since Miles' matters are clearly more important to her, then she can forget about coming home forever.

When the lights came on at the end of the graduation party, the spotlight suddenly shifted and froze on a young couple kissing passionately at the back of the auditorium. The young man held up a bouquet of roses and shouted to the crowd, “Sophie, be my girlfriend!” The moment the girl covered her face and nodded, the cheers in the hall nearly lifted the roof. Amid the thunderous applause, my hand trembled around my phone. The screen still showed the message he had sent half an hour earlier. Rowan: [Wait for me. I’ll come to you right away.] After the party, I took off the couple’s bracelet from my wrist and threw it into the gutter, along with four years of love.

After I failed the mission, the system began to unravel my memories, thread by thread. I was done letting my world revolve around Theodore Calloway like I used to. And I was done trying to stop him from moving his cousin into his home to take care of her for the rest of his life. It was meant to be the perfect ending for everyone. But when I died, Theodore’s desperation drove him to the edge of madness, and he begged for one final glimpse of me. I thought our story had ended there. Then, the system dragged me back to save a world that was already starting to fall apart. When I returned to the Calloway Residence with my son, Theodore hurried toward me, a little boy clutching his hand. His eyes were red-rimmed, his voice unsteady. "Amanda, are you leaving us?" I blinked. Because to me, they were nothing but strangers.

Nathaniel Reid had always despised being bound by our engagement. To spite me, he recklessly raced cars and caused trouble, indulging in all sorts of reckless behavior. And every time, I cleaned up his mess. Then, a girl named Joanna Smith appeared in his life. On the night of my birthday banquet, he scoured the entire city for a simple breakfast wrap for her and never even bothered to show up. I had already prepared for this moment. That night, I approached my family and asked to change the engagement. "It didn’t have to be Nathaniel." I thought of the distant, composed man from my dreams—the one who had always hidden his quiet, unwavering love for me. A smile flickered across my lips as I said softly, "Didn’t he still have an uncle?"

Our daughter, Luna Woods, developed a high fever. Her body was burning hot. I immediately dialed 911 for help. The dispatcher on the other end kept repeating his questions. He spoke slowly, as if deliberately stalling for time. By the time I finally heard the ambulance siren, Luna was already turning cold in my arms. In less than a year, my wife and I separated. We were consumed by endless grief and blamed for each other. Afterward, I merely existed for the sake of it. I was a hollow shell of a man. Then, one day, I received a wedding invitation from my ex-wife. The moment I played the audio invitation, a chill ran down my spine. The groom’s voice was identical to that of the slow, dawdling dispatcher from that year! I rushed out, utterly distraught, only to be hit by a roaring train. When I opened my eyes again, I heard Luna crying in the next room. Her forehead was burning hot. My wife hurriedly handed me the phone. “Quick, call 911! I’ll get a wet towel.” My hands trembled as I took the phone. When it was answered, I heard a familiar male voice through the receiver. “911, what’s your emergency?”