Rockstar Lyrics Post Malone

The day before the wedding, I go to the bridal shop to pick up my custom wedding dress. The clerk informs me apologetically, "I'm sorry, Ms. Stone. Yesterday, a woman called Ms. Lovelett came and picked up your dress." My best friend, Sherry Lancelot, suddenly remembers something. "Isn't that the surname of your fiance's secretary? He's so thoughtful. He had your dress picked up in advance for you." But in the next second, Mary Lovelett posts a social media update. In her photo, she is wearing my one-of-a-kind custom wedding dress that is worth hundreds of millions and posing coquettishly in front of the camera. The caption reads, "Zachary is the best boss in the world. I casually said I wanted to take some portraits. He generously bought me a globally limited outfit for a photoshoot so that I can take the photos to my heart's desire!" I look at the post and reply coldly, "That's the wedding dress I personally chose for myself. Since when did it become your photoshoot outfit?" The post is deleted instantly. My fiance, Zachary Everdon, calls me angrily. "What nonsense comment was that? I just lent your stupid dress to Mary for a bit. It's a cheap, one-time thing anyway. I can buy you a dozen more to make up for it." I let out a cold laugh and record the call. Then, I send him a screenshot of the 200 million dollars purchase record. I say, "Sure. Will you pay by check or by direct transfer? Hurry up. Once you pay, we're calling off the engagement."

I had been married to Derek for six years, and we had a three-year-old son. He was poor, earning only $2,000 a month, but I had no complaints; I took care of everything at home for him. After getting dinner on the table for the whole family, I finally had a minute to check my phone. A video popped up on my feed: a twenty-two-year-old girl from a rural area whose hands, roughened by years of hard labor, looked like they belonged to a sixty-two-year-old woman. I looked down at my own hands, just as worn and scarred, and stared at them blankly before tapping into the comments. I expected people to feel bad for her. However, to my surprise, the comments section was flooded with a single sentiment: "Why would anyone marry a penniless loser?" One of the top-liked comments came from a couple; in their photo, they were pictured holding hands—fingers tightly intertwined—with the girl sporting a massive diamond ring. The accompanying caption read: "A man who truly loves you would never bear to let you suffer." I felt a pang of envy. Given the choice, who wouldn't want a glamorous life? As I was about to close the app, I accidentally tapped on the couple's photo, enlarging it. In the background, previously too blurry to make out, was a face I recognized. It looked exactly like my husband, Derek Sterling. I froze, and almost against my will, I tapped into the account's profile. Post after post of lavish photos of them together flooded my screen. And then I saw him clearly. The scar above his brow, the one he got when a shelf fell on him while protecting me, was still plainly visible. It was my husband. It was Derek.

On my way to the bank, I stumbled across a post: [What's the most shameful thing you've done behind your partner's back?] One comment stood out: [I secretly married my first love, and my girlfriend keeps dumping money into our joint account like an idiot. She actually thinks I'm saving for a house. There's already sixty-seven grand in there. Once she hits eighty, I'm taking it all!] The flood of likes made my stomach twist. I pulled up my account balance. Sixty-seven grand. Not a penny more, not a penny less. So, my boyfriend secretly married his ex.

Ellaya Stone’s life was once filled with music, adoration, and dreams—a rockstar who believed in the purity of love. But when she gave her heart to Iden Devid Ruan, she unknowingly fell into the hands of a devil cloaked in power and charm. Betrayed and broken, Ellaya transforms into a force fueled by heartbreak and vengeance. Iden Devid Ruan thrives in control, power, and manipulation. A celebrated business tycoon and a hidden kingpin of the criminal underworld, he sees love as weakness—a tool to exploit. Ellaya was meant to be his pawn, a target for revenge. But she became his greatest obsession, a mystery he couldn’t unravel. Years later, fate forces them to collide again, reigniting a dangerous fire that neither can contain. Ellaya’s quest for justice takes her deep into a labyrinth of lies and betrayal as she seeks retribution for the life she lost. But Iden isn’t willing to let her go. His love turns darker, his obsession sharper, as he fights to shield her from the chaos their entwined destinies have created. With secrets resurfacing like specters from the past, their battle becomes one of love, vengeance, and redemption. Will Ellaya’s thirst for revenge consume her, or will the truths she uncovers demand forgiveness? And can Iden protect the woman he refuses to lose, or will his darkness destroy them both? "SHE, HIS ENIGMA" invites you into a world of deception, passion, and intrigue—a tale where love is both salvation and curse, and every heartbeat is a weapon in the fight for their souls.

The day Eve Jones came back to town, Zac Gibson did not come home all night. The next day, I saw a post on her social media, showing a photo of two hands tightly intertwined, along with Zac’s peaceful, childlike sleeping face. When he finally came home, he threw divorce papers at me and said, "You’ve been standing in Eve’s place this whole time. Now that she’s back, it’s time for you to move on." It did not matter anymore. I was not going to live much longer anyway. Whoever wanted the title of "Mrs. Gibson" could have it. Later, I died. But Zac cried at my grave, kneeling, promising he would never hold anyone else’s hand again.

On the day I was promoted to department head, I invited my parents on a trip during the Independence Day holiday. However, my mother invited my older sister, Anna Smith, and her entire family. She even posted about it on her social media. [My eldest daughter is so filial. The first thing she does after getting her salary is to invite me on a trip.] Anna replied: [It's only right to be filial to your parents.] Our relatives all praised Anna and even sent messages in the family chat group, telling me to learn from her. I silently looked at my mother's post on social media and canceled the supplementary card I gave her. This time, I wanted to see how they kept up that loving mother and dutiful child act.

To help my husband, Henry Carter, pay off a million-dollar debt, I clean windows and scrub toilets in an office building on Valentine's Day just for the triple pay. After I'm done with the windows, I am about to transfer the last 50 thousand dollars of the debt when a post suddenly pops up on my phone. The title of the post is, "What is something you see in real life that makes you feel sorry for someone, even if they are your enemy?" One of the top comments says, "The person I hate the most is my boyfriend's wife. My boyfriend pretends to be poor to spend money on me and cheats his wife out of over a million. That woman works day and night at a cleaning company just to make money for me! "This has gone on for eight years. That woman has been scrubbing toilets for eight years! Even if she is my enemy, I feel sorry for her." I freeze, and my fingers tremble uncontrollably. No way. It has to be a coincidence. I stare at those words, stunned and unable to recover from the shock. Then, a new comment appears, "Now, my boyfriend plans to fake an illness by telling his wife that he has cancer. He's going to trick her into giving him money to buy me a car." At that exact moment, Henry sends me a message. The instant I open it, I feel my heart skip a beat. It reads, "I'm sorry, honey. I'm sick—I have cancer. The doctor says we need to prepare 80 thousand dollars for treatment. I hate myself for this. Why am I even alive? I'm just dragging you down with me." The words "late-stage liver cancer" in the attached diagnosis report are painful to look at. I think in dismay, "Henry, you do not need to pretend to be sick. You are indeed in the late stage of cancer."

"It's already 7am, where is Ms. Martin?" I opened the door to my office, exhausted and tired. Another sleepless night. I was taken aback from the scene in front of me. Paris, was randomly dancing with her headphones on. Singing loudly to the lyrics to what seems like a Korean song. "Hello Mr. Hernandez, Go on, tell me I'm late now. Bloody bastard, I went out to get your coffee so you didn't have to drink it cold but i won't do that today because you'd rather your stupid coffee cold than your assistant being a considerate person. RIGHT?" "Glad to hear your thoughts towards me. Ms. Martin." I tapped her shoulder and saw her horrified face when she realized, I heard and saw it all. --- Paris Martin, a girl full of life is given a job as the most ruthless CEO's assistant. Felix Hernandez is a man of his word. He doesn't lie and he hates liars. Paris being the clumsiest person and Felix the most stiff. Felix being Paris' forever bully doesn't help her. When Felix finally ends up ruining Paris, he realizes how horribly he treated her. How will he bring back the sun-like Paris? Will he be able to bring back his best friend's clumsy sister?

I pleaded with my husband Cedric Fleetham over and over, and finally, he agreed to take our daughter camping in the mountains for her birthday. When I found her late the next night, she was already gone. She lay at the foot of the mountain, her tiny hand still clutching a drawing of our family. As I knelt beside her, my heart shattered. Meanwhile, Cedric was busy updating his social media. His post read, [You and our daughter are my treasures,] and it was accompanied by a photo, where he stood beside his childhood sweetheart and held hands with another little girl, watching the sunset. And there, in the corner of the picture, was a tiny hand—my daughter’s hand. The cruelest truth of all was that my daughter took that photo.

One day, I come across a post on the Internet. The original poster keeps boasting about the fact that all three children belonging to his older brother are actually his spawn. "The funniest thing is, there was once when he suspected the origins of his children. So, he got someone to take the children to take a paternity test. "Guess who he ordered? That's right—it's me, his most trusted younger brother! I get to sleep with his wife whenever I want. The money he earns all goes to my sons. This means he's working for me for the rest of his life! "Just the thought of that makes me happy to no end! Ahahaha!" But the thing is, I'm the older brother who's mentioned in the post.