Righteous Slice Mga Nobela at Kwento

He paused long enough for the silence to feel deliberate. “Emma Markus.” The name came out like a curse wrapped in pity. “A so-called friend who encouraged every negative impulse. I have pictures, pictures of club nights, men groping my wife on the dance floor while Emma cheered her on. I mean, what responsible wife leaves her husband at home to go get touched by strangers? And then, this part kills me so much…Emma introduced her own son’s basketball coach into our marriage. A man who has been helping my wife desecrate our matrimonial bed. Shameless. Absolutely shameless.”

he said, his eyes wide with anticipation. I couldn’t help but laugh, the sound of his joy filling the room and easing my heart. "Alright, let's do this," I said, taking the knife from him. As I moved to cut the cake, Riley climbed into my arms, and I held him there as I made the first cut. It wasn’t just the cake I was cutting—it was the ties to everything that had weighed us down, the past, the mistakes. With each slice, I felt the promise of a better future, not just for me, but for all of us.

This time my laughter prolonged for much more time than it usually would. He looked at me dubiously. " Congratulations,doc. My pasta didn't kill you but made you crazy. " "Alexander King. " I grinned. "I, Dr. Celia, officially declare that you made the world's best fucking pasta. " Even I can't believe my own taste buds. The pasta is too good. Yummy, delicious are not the words to praise it. I need much more. This time,I ran into the kitchen and took the whole bowl and started to dig in.

“Do you really think being reborn makes you special? “When I saw that marriage certificate between you and Rachel in my last life, there was no going back for us. “And don’t forget—you were the one who killed me. How dare you stand here and talk about treating me well?” Only then did Connor realize I, too, had been reborn. The light in his eyes dimmed instantly. I didn’t spare him another glance. My gaze shifted to the man waiting by the ice cream stand, not far away. Liam caught sight of me and broke into a warm, sunlit smile.

“That’s the wrong mindset. You fight to win. To tear down your opponent and rise from the dust before he can breathe again.” A silence followed after my words. I dropped my jacket to the ground, stepping into one of the circles. A hush fell as I pointed to the nearest warrior among the trainers. “You. Come.” The man was broad shouldered and had a scar running down his cheek, seasoned enough to know I wasn’t offering him an easy test. He nodded and stepped forward, bow in hand. “Blade,” I corrected, tossing him a wooden sword from one of the baskets kept. He caught it, adjusted his grip, and came at me without hesitation.

But right then, the wine glass in Andreas' hand suddenly shattered. I looked up to see him standing in the kitchen doorway with glass shards scattered in his palm, drops of blood falling from his fingers. Just one look was enough to make anyone's heart race with alarm. Even so, Andreas seemed oblivious to the pain, letting the glass cut into his hand. The veins in his hands had bulged, and his eyes had turned bloodshot as his gaze was fixed intensely on me. I turned away and walked back into the kitchen.