Quote Independence

My sister abruptly returns to the country on the day of my wedding. My parents, brother, and fiancé abandon me to pick her up at the airport. She shares a photo of them on her social media, bragging about how she's so loved. Meanwhile, all the calls I make are rejected. My fiancé is the only one who answers, but all he tells me is not to kick up a fuss. We can always have our wedding some other day. They turn me into a laughingstock on the day I've looked forward to all my life. Everyone points at me and laughs in my face. I calmly deal with everything before writing a new number in my journal—99. This is their 99th time disappointing me; I won't wish for them to love me anymore. I fill in a request to study abroad and pack my luggage. They think I've learned to be obedient, but I'm actually about to leave forever.

We’re preparing to move into a new house, and when my husband’s best female friend found out, she decided to move in with us. I was about to object, but my husband immediately agreed. To make things worse, he even gave my daughter’s master bedroom, which was meant to be her children’s room, to her son and made our daughter move to the basement. When I voiced my disagreement, he dismissed it, saying, “Grace is my close friend; don’t overthink it. Her son is like my son; of course, I want him to have a better room.” When I still stood my ground, my husband and his family began criticizing me, calling me selfish. Unable to stand their unfairness, I moved out with my daughter. It was then they realized my absence and became anxious.

My husband's childhood sweetheart was diagnosed with a terminal illness. To fulfill her last wishes and let her experience the warmth of family, my husband, Aaron Turner, gave her my necklace. He even let her claim my birthday. Even our son started calling her "Mom" in private. He told me, "Chrishell, Sylvia is dying. Just give in to her, will you?" Whenever I asked him to spare even a little time and affection for me, our son, Lucas, would rush to speak on their behalf. "Mom, didn't you always teach me to be generous? Sylvia is dying. Why do you always make things difficult for her?" Over time, I stopped asking for anything at all. Then one night, I overheard my son speaking to his father after returning from the hospital. "Sylvia is so gentle and graceful. I wish Mom could be more like her." Aaron chuckled and affectionately brushed his hand over our son's hair. "Your mom may be a little strict, but it's all for your own good. Since you like Sylvia so much, how about we let her be your godmother?" So even the child I risked my life to bring into this world didn't like me. I lowered my gaze, quietly closed the bedroom door, and pretended none of it had happened. Since they were both filled with such regret, I'd leave quietly and give them what they wanted.

My grandfather is a nationally renowned inheritor of an intangible cultural heritage. Today, I'm supposed to attend a grand ceremony as his rightful successor. However, when I arrive, I see my father's adoptive daughter already standing on the stage. She's dressed to the nines. She holds an award and is giving a thank-you speech, looking moved. In the past, I would've left without saying anything or speaking up for myself. Too bad for her that I'd been reborn. The discrepancy between our statuses is so large that we're basically from different worlds. Yet she has the nerve to claim to be my grandfather's successor and put on a show with what is supposed to be my family's.

The pills I keep by my bedside have been swapped with vitamins. I almost die after getting a heart attack. After the stent surgery, I ask my husband, Evan Whitmore, to find out who did it. I just want the truth. However, he doesn't even look up and just brushes me off. "It was just a mistake. Cecilia probably grabbed the wrong bottle. She bought those vitamins for me. "Don't push this. She has asthma. She can't handle stress." I stare at him in shock, my chest tightening. I can't tell if the pain is from my healing heart or from the words he just threw at me. Cecilia Monroe is his secretary, and he always takes her side. That moment is when I realize that our five years of marriage mean nothing to him at all.

The night of our mating ceremony, my destined Alpha, Alex, basically tossed a three-year temporary mate bond agreement at me. He said he only had eyes for one wolf girl, Lily, an Omega. He told me he’d wait until the day he was in charge of the pack, then he’d personally cut our mate bond. Lily would be his one and only. That was until Lily had a huge fight with him and just up and vanished. Alex, after too many nights drowning his sorrows, accidentally marked me. It seemed like he was finally starting to get that I was his real mate. He even started willingly holding me as we fell asleep. Just when I thought Alex had totally accepted me, Lily came back. To save Lily’s mom, Alex didn’t think twice about giving up his own precious life force. To make Lily happy, he publicly shamed me at the Moon Festival, even snatching the only moonstone bracelet my grandma had left me. Lily smashed the bracelet, and my heart broke right along with it. On our third bonding anniversary, Alex booked my favorite restaurant, wanting to say sorry. But what he didn't know was that I’d already broken our mate bond. I wasn't going back.

One week before our marking ceremony, my Alpha Mate, Corey Black, looks me straight in the eye and says something unbelievable, "I want to have a pup with my long-time friend Willow." At first, I assume it's a terrible joke, but I see determination in his serious expression. I suppress the churning feeling in my stomach and ask him why. He sighs, his gaze gentle as if he's soothing an unreasonable child. "Willow's old Beta father is dying. His only dying wish is to see Willow have a pup. We're doing it through IVF, so it won't hurt our relationship. "Her father devoted his entire life to the pack. You wouldn't refuse to fulfill even his dying wish, would you? You wouldn't be that cruel, right?" I don't know how to respond. He speaks as if not letting my fated mate have a pup with another woman is selfish. Later, when I go to visit the gravely ill old Beta, Corey is holding Willow Lester in his arms. His hand gently strokes her hair as he lets her sob against his chest. The moment our eyes meet, pain strikes my very soul. My wolf lets out a desperate howl of anguish. I stumble away, only to receive a text from him on the day of our marking ceremony. "Honey, Willow and I are undergoing the IVF procedure. Let's postpone the ceremony for now." I stare blankly at those words, my hand unconsciously moving to my still-flat stomach. Since he wants so badly to have a pup with another woman, I will grant his wish and disappear with my pup.

My sister is diagnosed with leukemia after a medical checkup at the hospital where I work. My bone marrow is a match for her. Out of curiosity, I tell my family I'm the one who's sick. They vehemently oppose to her donating her bone marrow to me. "A bone marrow donation is risky! We can't let your sister put herself in danger." "Don't drag your sister into this just because you're sick. Everyone's life and death is fated—you have to accept your destiny." My sister also refuses to help me, brushing me off with the excuse that she's preparing to conceive. My relationship with my family is strained, so their behavior thoroughly destroys it. When I realize this, I leave the diagnosis report behind and walk out on them.

I set fire to my painting in front of the entire academy. Thunderous applause erupts from the crowd as everyone thinks it's some kind of performance art. Unlike them, Willow Laurent is distraught. She rushes up and grabs my hand, questioning in a shrill voice, "Cassidy Seymour, have you gone mad? This is your only chance to prove yourself!" I shake her hand off me coldly. My only chance? No… What she means is that it's her chance. In my past life, I created this masterpiece with all my heart and soul. But she stole it from me and submitted it as her entry first. Whether it was the composition, the colors, or even my original dot-stippling technique… She replicated every detail flawlessly. Then, she won the National Young Artists Gold Award, signed with a top gallery, and became a rising star. And what about me? I was condemned as a shameless plagiarist. Insults and curses gradually drowned me. "You shouldn't be an artist!" "Plagiarists are scum! They should just die!" Her fans stormed into my studio, smashed my art supplies, and broke my right hand. As I saw no end to the hell that I was living in, I jumped down from the top floor of my studio. When I open my eyes again, I'm back to the very day she first accuses me of plagiarism.

The day before our wedding, I received an expensive suit from my wife. Not long after, her young lover called me, his voice trembling. "I'm sorry. It was my fault. My bad for mixing up your size. Please… please don't blame Sylvie." On the other end, I could hear Sylvie soothing him gently, patiently, until he calmed down. I stared at the plane ticket in my hand—a one-way trip out of the country—and calmly asked her for a divorce. Then, as if I no longer mattered, she left me with a single, cold sentence. "Just don't regret it."