Quotes Healthy Food

When Elowen learned that she had been switched at birth, that her life as a princess was nothing more than a mistake, she quietly accepted her fate. She accepted being treated as an error. Accepted being hurt so deeply that even crying had to be done in secret. She believed she would fade away like this — silently, unnoticed, forgotten. Until one day — when despair pushed her to the edge — she felt a faint chill, as if someone were standing behind her, protecting her without a word. From that moment on, Elowen knew she was no longer alone. — Adrian survived a horrific car accident. His body lay motionless in a hospital bed, while his soul became bound to a wounded girl he had never known. He couldn’t hold her. Couldn’t shield her from harm. Yet when she was starved, warm food appeared in her drawer. When she was bullied, her tormentors met with inexplicable accidents. When she curled up crying in the dead of night, an invisible hand gently rested on her forehead—so tender it hurt. Adrian was there. Quieter than any living person. He witnessed every wound, remembered every tear, every trembling breath she tried to suppress. Affection grew in silence—slowly, carefully—as if one careless step closer would cause the girl to shatter. One was alive, yet denied a life. One was dead, yet still learning how to protect someone. Some forms of protection need no light. Some kinds of love cannot be touched. — Then one day, Elowen spoke seriously to her “Ms. Ghost”: Elowen: “Ms. Ghost, if you’re lonely…” “Maybe you could bond with a male ghost.” “I’d give you my blessing.” Adrian: … Then the “Ms. Ghost” coldly placed a hand on her forehead. Adrian: “Call me Mr. Ghost.”

You think you've had a bad day? My name is Braddock Westfield, Billionaire Alpha (head werewolf) of the Crescent Moon pack I've searched for my fated mate for 22 years and finally conceded to the elders to choose a Luna to produce an heir. The night before our union my pack was attacked by rogues (werewolves with no pack, no morals, mostly criminals), we suffered no losses except my Gamma (Lead Warrior), who now we need to pick up 100 miles away in a small human town at a Diner. I receive a call as I pull into the parking lot, that my chosen mate has been kidnapped by rogues on her way to my pack. Pissed off, I enter the Diner, an intoxicating scent hits me and my wolf howls in my head "MATE" (22years of searching and on my Union Day, you find her). Two men crash threw the door inside the diner, yelling "Charlie get your ass out here now, we're not done with it yet." The old woman behind the counter grabs a shotgun and makes them leave. A waitress comes out bringing food and that intoxicating scent, my heart clenches when our eyes lock and our mate bond snaps tethering our hearts together, as I look at her broken nose, bruised face, split lip, swollen green glistening eyes. I need to get her to leave with us, promising to keep her safe, revealing I'm a psychiatrist with facilities, to help her rebuild her self-esteem and build her confidence to help her, move past her obvious trauma. Explaining she's a werewolf and I'm her fated mate and at least 20+ years older than her, that may be more challenging. Let's not forget, I now need to find my kidnapped chosen that I need to reject. All this before 9am.

WE'RE BACK! Yes, your favorite cousins are back at it again, but this time it ain't about me. So, buckle up and grab your wine glasses, because it's gonna be crazy! Mina’s POV: Wait a damn minute. Am I in hell? Because if I am, I need to speak to HR. I didn't even get a chance to plead my case, give a reference or something. I'm about to start freaking out because, I'm not a “go to hell” and mean it type of person. I can't do heat for five minutes let alone an eternity. I feel like giving my life to save a baby and a man should have gotten me at least joint visitation six months in heaven and six months in hell. “Mina, are you awake?” I heard the voice quietly say next to my ear. I tried opening my eyes, but it felt like I had sand in them. I decided to try speaking, but only let out something that sounded like a sick animal. "Wait right there let me get you some water.” I heard a voice whisper again. Who the hell is that? I have heard that voice before but couldn't figure out who the hell it was. “! We need to move; they've found us.” The voice came again. Wait, what? Who the hell are they? I tried opening my eyes again, this time I managed to get them open enough to see the figure picking me up bridal style. Then the stranger turned his head to look directly in my eyes and I knew instantly who it was. “Blaze? You gotta be shitting me.” I said, obviously shocked. “Hey, can we join the party? I hope you are serving food because we are famished.” I heard a man say.

On my birthday, I personally prepare 16 dishes. After setting up the candlelight, I open a bottle of red wine. I take a photo and send it to my husband, Eric Sinclair. "I'm working late tonight. Don't wait for me," he replies. I choose to believe him. But after midnight, I notice an Instagram story posted by Shirley Huxley, his secretary. Eric was there with her, dressed in the trench coat I once gave him. They sat side by side in the VIP seat of football stadium where my favorite Super Bowl take place. Entwined in a passionate embrace, they kissed beneath a sea of shimmering lights and the roar of thousands of fans. That game is the one I have always longed to experience with him. I look down at the cold food on the table. Eric's words keep ringing in my head. "I hate kissing." "Marriage is a partnership, not about love and kisses." Though we've been married for ten years, we've never shared a single kiss. Meanwhile, he's out there, kissing Shirley openly and passionately. Despite it all, not a single tear falls from my eyes. The next day, Eric settles into his chair, completely unfazed. "Return the gallery to Shelly," he commands. I nod quietly, saying nothing. Suddenly, Layla Sinclair, my daughter, comes running down the stairs and throws herself into Shirley's arms. "Aunt Shirley, you're my favorite. I don't like Mom!" In that instant, it hits me—the home I devoted my heart and soul to means nothing anymore. It doesn't matter that I've been married to Eric for a decade. Now, all I want is to find myself again. I decide to accept an invitation from the Parisoir School of Fashion Design. From this moment on, I won't wait for them to come home, and I won't look back.

Ang maging chef ang pinaka pangarap ni Everlee Moore talaga. Lahat na kasi meron siya kaya nakatutok lang siya sa pangarap niya. Sa ikakasiya niya. Pinanganak siyang may gintong kutsara na sa bibig. Hindi na niya kailangang magtrabaho din sa kumpanya nila dahil nandyan naman ang mga kapatid niya. Gustong-gusto niyang magluto. Para sa kanya, food is life. At iyon ang naging dahilan para mag-enroll siya sa isang cooking school sa England. Dalawang school iyon. Isa sa Bedfordshire, kung saan kasalukuyang Duke si Davey Kristoff or DK Ward Collin. Matalik na makaibigan ang pamilya nila. Kaya humingi siya nang tulong dito nang mawala ang bagahe niya sa airport. Walang natirang gamit sa kanya at walang naibalik. Kinupkop siya nito at pinatira sa palasyong tinitirhan nito. Hindi pwedeng malaman ng magulang niya ang nangyari sa kanya, dahil baka pababalikin siya ng mga ito sa Pilipinas. Kaya inilihim nila ni DK ang lahat. Pero hindi akalain ni Everlee na may mabubuong pagmamahalan sa kanila ni DK habang nasa poder siya nito. Akala niya dahil sa utang na loob lang kaya siya pumayag na maging Duchess ng Bedford. No. Mahal na pala niya si DK. Ngunit isang aksidente ang pumutol sa pagmamahalang iyon. Hindi siya maalala ni DK na pinakasalan siya nito. Dahil sa respeto nito umano sa magulang at kapatid niya, dinivorce siya nito bago pa malaman ng pamilya niya. Kaya nang muli silang magkita sa Pilipinas, tanging sambit lang ni Everlee sa sarili sa tuwing nakikita si DK, she once married that Duke…

When I opened my eyes, I found myself supposedly transmigrated to some ancient era. Every morning, before light touched the sky, someone would yank me out of bed to haul trash, chop wood, and do whatever filthiest job needed doing. Somehow, I'd become the lowest-ranked servant in the entire estate. The estate lord's son would climb onto my back and ride me around the courtyard like some pet he was proud to show off. Anyone in the household could hit me, kick me, or shove me aside, and not a single soul would speak up. Five years passed like that, so awful that I almost lost my mind, as if I were living in hell. Then one day, a group of servants cornered me. They didn't bother hiding their intention. The moment I saw their faces, I knew I was in trouble. Fists flew, boots landed, and everything blurred. Just before I passed out, I heard them whispering, "We're going to kill him if we keep this up." "Come on. This place only looks like some old noble estate. It's not an actual one. If he dies here, we're the ones who'll get dragged to court!" "Relax. Ms. Shaw will handle it. The idiot pissed off her childhood sweetheart. Getting tricked into this place is exactly what he deserves." Fear swallowed everything, and the world went dark. When I woke again, the lady of the house had conveniently "returned from visiting her family." The lord threw a grand celebration with tables full of food, wine flowing, and musicians playing like nothing had happened. I carried dishes into the banquet hall and lifted my head. Her face was the same as my wife's, Melissa Shaw. I set the final dish down, stepped closer, and in a voice only she could hear, asked, "Ma'am… are you enjoying your little game?"

Everyone says I have the face of an angel. However, I choose to take a knife and slash my own beautiful face. When my twin sister sees the drastic change in my appearance, she loses it and screams at me, wanting to know why I ruined my face. In my past life, she couldn't stop stealing food deliveries. When our next-door neighbor caught her, she shoved the pregnant woman so hard that she miscarried. The woman was seven months along, and both she and her baby died. But my sister just shrugged it off, bragging that she was some popular influencer, and two pathetic lives didn't matter. She even slapped down a 50-dollar bill like it was nothing, just to humiliate them. "Still trying to scam my money? For all we know, that woman's baby was already dead inside her. Your family must've done pretty awful things to deserve losing two lives like that!" When the dead woman's family showed up at our door with kitchen knives, ready for revenge, my sister chickened out and hid. Before that, she tricked me into coming home instead. The second I walked up to our front door, the grief-stricken husband slashed at my neck, severing the artery. I died right there on the spot. After I died, everyone spat on my memory. They all said I got what I deserved, and my parents covered up what my sister really did. She even had the nerve to come forward and apologize for me, cashing in on my death while hooking up with my boyfriend. The two of them became this perfect couple online and made tons of money. This time around, I decide to destroy my face. I want to see how she will steal my identity and pin her crimes on me now!

My stepmother, Mary, hated me to the bone. All because when I was little, I went to a classmate’s house to play and forgot to close the courtyard gate. Her son ran onto the road and was hit to death by a car. My father loved my younger brother the most. After learning what happened, he was heartbroken. “Were you jealous of your brother? That’s why you deliberately left the gate open?” I desperately explained that I had closed the gate, but Dad didn’t believe me. He locked me in the basement and raised me like a dog for the rest of my life. Until one day, when Dad went on a business trip, Mary didn’t give me any food for three days. Starving, I crawled upstairs to the kitchen to look for something to eat. That was when I saw Mary sitting on a man’s lap, saying softly, “If you hadn’t forgotten to close the gate back then, I wouldn’t be living in fear every day of my husband finding out… We’re the ones who killed Ethan.” Only then did I understand that I wasn’t the one who had forgotten to close the gate and caused my brother to run outside, but my stepmother’s lover. Just as I was about to sneak back to the basement, my stepmother noticed me. “What did you hear? No! I can’t let your father find out that I killed our own son!” In a panic, she grabbed me and threw me down the stairs, killing me on the spot. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the very day the car hit my brother. I blinked my innocent, childlike eyes and pointed upstairs, speaking in a soft, baby voice, “Dad, I closed the gate. It was the man in Mom’s bedroom who didn’t!”

As a low-income student who's specifically recruited by the elite college this year, I can still feel my hands trembling as I clutch the letter that tells me I get to study for free. Not only are my tuition and miscellaneous fees waived, but I also get to receive 30 thousand dollars' worth of student grant per year. I even get to have free access to the leather seats inside the library, the equipment inside the gym, as well as the aerial garden on the roof. The best surprise for me has to be the cafeteria. All low-income students get a 50% discount on their meals, but the quality of their food doesn't decrease at all. Best beef is used in the steak dinners offered by the cafeteria, whereas a seafood platter showcases the entire huge lobster. Even the most basic mac and cheese meal has different types of freshly grated cheese baked into it. As I sit in the brightly lit classroom and look at the rich students around me, who wear custom-made uniforms and have branded watches latched around their wrists, all I have is one thought. I must be on good terms with them. But my seatmate, who's also a low-income student, isn't as thrilled as me. In fact, she just looks at the people around her with disdain in her eyes. After the first lesson, a rich student arrives at our table. He might not sound polite at all, but at least he's not putting on airs. "Do any of you have time to head over to the cafeteria and buy me breakfast?" I'm about to respond to him when a shrill voice booms out next to me. "You're so annoying! What, you think you rule the campus since you're rich? Had I known that this classroom is filled with useless scions like you who just waste their lives away on nothing, I wouldn't have enrolled in this college in the first place!"

On the eve of our engagement ceremony, I noticed that Angelina Manning, my rich girlfriend, wasn't paying attention at all when we were shopping together. I bought a hotdog from a nearby food truck and passed it to Angelina's lips. To my surprise, she tossed it to the ground furiously. "Devon Fuller, my family wants a son-in-law who can carry himself with confidence and poise! Stop buying these cheap things! You'll just end up embarrassing me even more! How can my parents ever accept you if you keep doing things like this?" Feeling rather awkward, I picked up the hotdog and threw it into a nearby trash can. Then, I nodded in response so that I could maintain our four-year relationship. "Okay." I thought that was the end of the outburst, but Angelina decided to get engaged to Jeffrey Terell the next day. "Devon, Jeffrey committed suicide and got admitted into the hospital just so he could be with me. Once he's back to normal, I'll definitely return to you." I still nodded and broke up with Angelina. "Okay." After that, I left. Four years later, Angelina shows up at my residence with the diamond ring she had used to propose to me back then. "Devon, Jeffrey has agreed to file for a divorce from me. We can finally be together again! I told you before that I can return to your side as soon as Jeffrey lets go of his obsession over me and stops hurting himself." I frown at Angelina, who looks all loving and affectionate. At the same time, I mentally curse myself for picking this particular time to come home. After all, I've decided to come back to my cottage just to grab something on a whim, only to bump into my delusional ex-girlfriend. I just push her toward the door. "Excuse me. I don't want to be late picking up my kid from school."