Smiling Through The Pain

Aisling Maverick life becomes living hell when her mate Azelaic Rowen who was a beta disappear from her life without any trace. Aisling was left heartbroken but with only one choice to return to her pack, to family. Being the weakest omega in her pack she faced a lot of backlash from the pack members and from her father but Aisling's life took a unexpected turn when she met Archard harvest. The ruthless heir of Dark wolves Pack. Aisling unknownly, challenge him and found herself in the plan of him. The lights above me began to flicker. A few seconds later, the lights went out, turning the hallway utterly dark, which made me stop from running because I couldn't see anything. " No..No…No… Not now, please goddammit!" I thought. Suddenly, a sharp pain cuts through my thoughts, a hand that grips my arm and squeezes too tight. It's Him. He caught me and I felt an inmes pressure on my arm and had a vise-like grip on my arm. He could rip my arm out of my torso.My heart was pounding out of my chest. He could hear it. The only thing I could see was his glowing eyes in the dark void. His eyes were devastated. Large, dark, and inviting, they were the sort of open windows that decent people draped. I was so caught up in them that I forgot about my pain for a moment

Rosabella White has secretly had a one-sided relationship with Louis for more than nine years. It's just that today, the person in her heart is married to the girl he loves the most. Unfortunately, who is she? Rosabella is corroded by the intense emotion that flows through her body and the inability to resist the pain that breaks her heart. If God lets Rosabella return to the past and change her fate, will she seize this opportunity despite it? And is she willing to pay if she wants something that's not hers? Rosabella is held accountable for her unsuccessful love affair that blinds her eyes. Louis didn't understand her heart. Rosabella also doesn't know Jonathan's heart - who's always watching behind her. When did Rosabella look back, so she could see who was next to her? The Earth revolves around the sun. The moon revolves around the Earth. Who can reach whom?

At the peak of my career, my husband slapped me in public.  With a look of disgust, he said, “Tess, you’re pathetic. You made Grace fail the class because you’re jealous. Don’t you know she’s applying for a scholarship?” Caught off guard, I stumbled and fell to the ground, clutching my stomach as pain surged through me. I knelt there, begging him to take me to the hospital.  However, all he did was swat my hand away and sneer. “Quit the act! Aren’t you just a useless woman who can’t get pregnant?” At that moment, my heart felt like it had shattered into a million pieces. It wasn’t long before bystanders intervened, insisting on taking me to the hospital. Unfortunately, it was too late to save the baby. Once the surgery was over and the reality of what had happened sank in, I turned to him and demanded a divorce.

I have seen and heard many women coming out of Cassius's motorhome in the past year. It was painful and repulsive. What makes it worse is that he is married to Charity. Multiple times they have been unfaithful to one another. Sadly, I witnessed the consequences of infidelity when my best friend's mate betrayed her and she lost her life before my eyes. I can't believe that I used to have feelings for him or believed we would be mates someday. I would rather die by rejecting him than go through the same pain my best friend experienced when her mate cheated on her after marking her. Never in a million years did I think rejecting my fated mate, would throw me into a twisted romance with two mates fighting each other for my love. What the hell am I supposed to do now?

Twenty-year-old Francheska Dela Cruz, an aspiring writer was hired in one of the biggest publishing companies in Metro Manila and her first assignment was to interview a philanderer who had a scandalous reputation in his time. Driven by the determination to keep her job and to be noticed by her boss, Dale Trinidad made her decide to push through with the assignment. She found herself in the old capital city of Pasig City, near the Municipal Hall at the heart of Sandoval Avenue in Acacia Alley. A crowded and ragged place with people from all walks of life, Conversations with Micheal Benedicto brought her to the world of passion and lust. His overwhelming vast adventure with all kinds of love and each of his women portrayed a big role in his life. From his first encounter of a carnal affair with his supervisor in his first job to numerous women that came his way. His insatiable desire towards lonely single mothers and older women tainted his reputation and the radical conclusion of his story. All thirty-six women portrayed a big role in his life and shaped him for who he is. Francheska was not just an attendee to Michael's story. She was also about to find out her true identity and the confrontation of reality. It spanned two generations separated by fate, each had its struggle, its pain, lies, betrayal, and joy. Through this encounter, they will finally realize their connection and the real meaning of love, self-sacrifice, acceptance, and forgiveness. That in the end, love is all that matters.

When something is to happen, it will happen no matter what. There is always something good to seek and that is should be done. Moon Goddess never does us wrong when we never did anything wrong, it is just a matter of trust. Trust upon our moon goddess, no matter the tears, disappointment, hatred, and tough times you faced. Everything will be worth it. Losing a mate is the most dreadful moment in a life of a werewolf. Dying along with your mate is what is preferred when the situation occurs because the pain of it is worse than death and even more when you are helpless. And, as if it is not enough, you even lose your pup in between all of this. The only piece left with you of your mate. Facing such a situation only, will Devika be able to survive being left alone with no place to go and roam? What is she going to do? Will she be left with no place to go or her fate is already planned? Where Devika is going through her most dreadful situation, there is someone another who is going through the pressure of not only being the Alpha of the pack but to secure its future. The future he had planned of happiness but left with sorrow. Will the two souls drowning in the sea of grief be able to swim out of it? What if the moon goddess has something for them to look forward to? But the question here lies, who is he? Lets join the journey of Devika and this someone to know what is going to happen. THE JOURNEY OF HOW TWO BROKEN AND LOST SOULS WILL HEAL EACH OTHER. DISCLAIMER: NO, THIS IS NOT ANY USUAL CHOSEN MATE BOOK.

"Lilith, are you sure there's nothing wrong with this soup?" "What, you’re doubting your own mother’s love now?" she sneered. Grinding my teeth, I forced it down—only to feel a searing pain twist through my gut like knives a moment later. Alpha Kane burst into the room and gathered my lifeless body into his arms. His eyes burned crimson as he roared to the Eternity Pack: "I’ll burn this world to the ground for what you did to her." But fate wasn’t done with me yet. It gave me another chance. Back on the day of the poisoning, my cold smile slicing through the stunned silence. "This time," I said, "you’ll be the ones begging on your knees." And as it turns out… Revenge is sweet, but love? Even sweeter. "I can heal your leg," I said, lifting Kane’s blanket. Only for him to grab my wrist with a deadly grip. "Getting handsy now?" he smirked. "I’m checking your injury," I shot back, eyes narrowing. "Unless… there’s something else that needs ‘treating’ too?" "Sign it," I slammed the marriage certificate in front of him. "In exchange, I’ll help you walk again." "Do you even know what mate duties include?" His eyes drifted downward, tracing the curve of my waist— and lower.

On Valentine's Day, I set up a candlelit dinner and waited. At 9 PM, my husband, Alfred Johnston, finally texted. [Something came up at work. Don't wait for me.] Then I saw her post. [On a business trip with the CEO for Valentine's Day. Every hotel is fully booked—awkward...] Vivian Bianca, his secretary. Attached was a photo of a guy in a bathrobe, standing by a floor-to-ceiling window. The comments were all 'ooh, CEO's so hot and girl, you're in for a night.' Vivian? Just dropped a smug emoji. So that's what "something came up" meant—a romantic getaway with his secretary. I screenshotted it, posted it on my own feed, and added a smiling emoji. A second later, Alfred called, fuming. "Vivian was joking! Why are you so petty? She's young, not as calculating as you!" I didn't let him finish. "Then let's get a divorce. That way, I won't have to care when you screw around and catch something."

Although I was the second child in the family, my mother loved me the most. When Dad bought my sister a new dress, she stayed up late knitting a sweater for me. When Grandma took my younger brother out for burgers, she baked me a homemade sponge cake. Until the New Year’s Eve dinner. Dad placed the big chicken drumstick onto my sister’s plate. Grandma immediately stuffed the other one into my brother’s. My mother hurriedly picked the chicken wing from her plate and placed it onto mine, smiling as she said, “I saved this especially for you.” The relatives laughed and teased, “Your family really has a clear division of love. Everyone spoils a different child. What a loving family.” The next second, I suddenly flipped the table. Under everyone’s stunned gaze, I grabbed that chicken wing and shoved it straight into my mother’s mouth.

In the coastal quiet of Baler, a studio is born—not of architecture, but of intention.* Founded by Yam, a poet whose words cradle pain gently, and Franc, an artist who paints tenderness into walls, the studio becomes a refuge for those learning to stay—with grief, love, longing, and themselves. As visitors arrive, they leave behind more than footprints: a sigh recorded in bamboo, a poem tucked into the “Found Letters” shelf, a mural painted in crooked lines. Through zines, tea, silence, and sketchbooks, the studio teaches softness as revolution. Ren creates the *Window of Soft Returns*, an installation of anonymous voice recordings—each whisper forming a community of echoes. Drew builds the *Staircase With No Wrong Turns*, inviting people to walk through emotions without shame. Franc offers brushstrokes as brave work, and Yam curates writing circles that map healing in half sentences. Together, they host festivals that feel like hugs, and they begin traveling their archive, letting softness cross oceans. Even those who once left—like Miguel—return, discovering that some doors never truly close. Others, like Tala, capture the studio’s sound and turn it into a podcast of breath and becoming. Over seventy chapters, the studio transforms into something larger than itself: a mural of memory, a sanctuary for second chances, a place where return is sacred and voice is proof of survival. In the final bloom, the studio stands not as a monument—but as a reminder: > *“Staying isn’t easy. > But chosen together, > it becomes home.”*