Saying Goodbye Poetry

Rachel Lloyd had been by William Lewis' side since she was eighteen. One day, after an accident, she finally regained her hearing, which she had previously lost while saving his life. She couldn't wait to share the good news with him. But when she arrived, she found him holding his first love in his arms and whispering sweet nothings to her. William always knew Rachel loved him deeply—to the point she would give her life for him. She never got angry and never asked for much. But this time, instead of quietly staying by his side, she simply signed a non-disclosure agreement. And when the time came, she completely disappeared from his world. When William first heard that Rachel had vanished, he laughed it off. "She'll be back within a week." But a week passed. Then, a month. Then, three months. And still, Rachel didn't return. Now, as panic set in, William searched for her like a madman. For the first time in his proud, arrogant life, he humbled himself and begged, "Rachel, stop this. It's been long enough." Later, he added, "Come home. I'll give you whatever you want." And finally, he said, "If I were dying… would you at least come say goodbye?" When they met again, he was on his knees. His eyes were red-rimmed as he held out a teacup. "Please have some tea... Aunt Rachel."

Meet Usha Mehta, sitting there calmly on the wedding stage looking as beautiful as ever in that red sari. But observe clearly her face in all the chaos of the few people running here and there in a hurry to conduct a perfect wedding. Is she smiling happily looking at the wonderful arrangements? No way! Nevertheless, she is taking deep breaths so that she will not strangle the man sitting beside her. So talking about man, let’s see what he is doing. Well, he is also looking handsome but doing the same thing, and that is taking deep breaths not to strangle the girl sitting beside him. They both are looking with wide eyes, imagining the guests saying loudly “You both can’t escape this marriage.” Poor them! Or is it really? Well, we just have only one option and that is to look at their journey from starting.

I had fallen in love with my father’s friend—the man I was supposed to call “uncle,” Kael Viremont. For a while, I thought he loved me too. We even had this silly little promise—that if I turned twenty-seven and still want to be with him, then we could be together, publicly. Five days before my twenty-seventh birthday, I overheard him saying he’d never liked me. That he was going to marry his childhood sweetheart. And as if that wasn’t cruel enough, he was planning to use the wedding to cut me off for good. So I did the one thing I should’ve done a long time ago—accepted that he and I would never belong to the same world… and disappeared from his life for good.

My husband asked me if bras were more comfortable without underwire, and I was happy that he had finally become more mature. The next day, his assistant snatched the parcel I received in the mail, saying that it had the wrong address. That night, I saw Samantha Davis post on her social media, with the caption, “My boyfriend bought this for me. Isn’t it pretty?” It was a selfie taken in a hotel mirror, and there was a beautifully decorated box containing a bra lying beside her. So, as it turned out, it was not that men became mature later in life, it was that you weren’t the one they were willing to become mature for. Naturally, I gave the post a like and took a screenshot before sending it to my husband. "What a waste. You could have gotten an 20% discount if you bought the whole set."

The Langston brothers once vowed that they wouldn't marry anyone but me. However, when it's time for me to pick one of them as my husband, they both turn me down. Nigel says, "My career is my priority. I'm not considering marriage at the moment." Shawn says, "Sorry, but I haven't had enough fun yet." Shortly after, they make my asthma act up during my engagement party just so they can please their new princess. As I writhe from the lack of oxygen, they cover her eyes so she won't see. They also mock me, saying I won't die from this. That kills me inside. When I wake up in the hospital, I call my father. "I'll marry the heir of the Blackwell family."

Elena tried to get out of his grip but he was too heavy for her. “I am married.” She screamed. “You are not, not anymore.” He spoke as he bit her neck to the extent that she felt as if he will snatch out her flesh. “Please, let me go.” “That husband of yours lost you on a bet. I am the winner, and you belong to me. Just me.” She knew what Aslan was saying was right. John had indeed lost her on a poker table as if she was nothing but another of his belongings just like his watch or an old table. She pushed his chest with all her might but failed. It was her end. In this world where women were progressing, she was traded off on a poker table. She smirked at her fate. She was nothing. Nothing, but a lost bet.

"Mr. Dawson, about that farmhouse construction project in Hattensburg… I've decided that I'm willing to go there." Gary Dawson, on the other end of the line, sounds fairly surprised. "I've been asking you to go there for ages, yet you refused every time because you said you wanted to be with your boyfriend, Timothy. Why the sudden change of mind?" Madeline Carlton lowers her reddened eyes and pretends to chuckle nonchalantly. "I guess I hit one too many walls and just decided to come to my senses afterward." Hearing this, Gary sighs and says sternly, "This is a highly classified mission. You will be assuming a whole new identity when you start working on this project. Before the mission ends, you will not be allowed to have any contact with the rest of the world. "Madeline, are you sure that you've thought things through?" "Yes. I just want to escape this place as soon as I can." There is a long silence on the phone. However, Gary answers right after the pause. "Alright. I'll send the classified contract to you in a while. It should take about a month for the paperwork to be finalized. Use that opportunity to say goodbye to your friends and family." The call disconnects. An email pops up in Madeline's inbox. Right after reading through the classified contract, she signed her name with a flourish and submitted the file with a click. At the same time, Bloomberg Group's new product launch plays on the television. Timothy Bloomberg, wearing a tailored white suit, slowly leads Lacey Houston up the catwalk stage.

The whole world knew Lionel Potter was crazy about his wife. He wrote songs just for her, baked desserts for her, and couldn't go three sentences without saying "my wife". But Iris Potter discovered that the same Lionel who loved her as if his life depended on it had cheated. She summoned the system and applied to leave the world. [Understood. The self-exit channel has been activated. In 15 days, you will leave this world. The exit method will be a staged death. The location will be the seaside where you once saved the male lead. Cause of death: suicide by drowning. [Please prepare accordingly for your death.] On the 15th day, Iris arranged everything and staged her departure to look like she had gone into the sea, leaving Lionel behind. Only then did Lionel wake up. He unraveled, nearly losing his mind, consumed by the need to find her.

My fiance called me to post bail after he was arrested. When I arrived, however, I was informed that he was caught in a compromising position. "I came to protect Lily because I was worried for her safety," my fiance retorted, putting an arm around her shoulder. "But her boyfriend didn't believe me. Or is it the same for you too? Go post bail already." Nonetheless, I spied the lacy underwear poking out ever so slightly over his belt. In the past, I would have made a scene as I demanded an explanation. But now, I was as cool as a cucumber. When the cops asked what our relationship was, I paused in thought for a moment, before saying quietly, "His employer." Once I signed the papers, I texted my brother: [I'll go on that blind date. Schedule it for three days later.]

My mother-in-law, Eleanor, was having a heart attack, and my husband, Ben Dover—a heart surgeon—was the only one who could save her. Did I call him? Nope. I just stood there, watching her gasp like a fish out of water. In my last life, I'd begged Ben to come save her. He brushed me off, accusing me of interrupting his time with his mistress, Ima Schit. No matter how much I pleaded, he wouldn't come. Eleanor had died in the hospital. And when Johnny, my father-in-law, demanded answers, Ben flipped the script, saying I'd never even called. He made Eleanor's death my fault. Johnny, blinded by grief and fury, killed me. But plot twist—I woke up. Right back to the day this circus started.