South Wind Novel Novels & Stories

It was the day of my return. The city was talking about the birthday party my husband was throwing for me. He was a lawyer. But the night before the big day, a message popped up on my husband's cell phone. 'It's been five years. I've been waiting for far too long.' My husband pushed me away, though his face was smeared with guilt. "I'm sorry, honey. The GM wants me on a last-minute work trip. I can't make it in time for your birthday." He left without even missing a beat. I opened up the GPS app and watched the red dot move away. That was him. I got an Uber and tailed him right away. His GM was me. I just got the job, and I approved his leave for my birthday. And then he told me, in my face, that I assigned him on a last-minute work trip when I did no such thing. It was midnight. And I was going to find out who this man was meeting at this witching hour.

On the day of our wedding, Henry Zander, my fiance, gets his legs broken in a car crash in his attempt of playing the knight in shining armor who intends to rescue the damsel in distress. So, I terminate our wedding on the spot. Both families surround me, trying to convince me to prioritize the bigger picture. My future mother-in-law cries her heart out as she takes my hand. "Winona, Henry got crippled because of his acts of heroism! He's the real hero here! If you head over to the hospital and take good care of him from now on, we'll still be a family!" My mom hugs me as well, her voice lowered. "You're still pregnant with the Zanders' heir, Winona. Do you have the heart to deliver your baby to this world without a father in their life? Hurry up and apologize to the Zanders so that this incident can be water under the bridge!" My dad acts more impulsively by slapping me on the spot and calling me an insensitive bastard who humiliates the family. Regardless, I walk over to the emcee calmly and pick up the microphone. "I'll give the 880-thousand-dollar wedding gifts meant for Henry and me to the driver involved in this car accident."

In the third year of my eating disorder, my husband, Nikolai Hollowell, is the only person who still insists on making me eat. Even when I vomit until I'm a trembling mess, he will make another dish for me again half an hour later. He coaxes gently yet stubbornly, "Have one more bite of the apple slice, Emi." But the moment I smell the food, I throw up again until I can barely breathe. That night, I make another post on X to ask for help. "How is someone with an eating disorder supposed to keep living?" The top comment says, "Get a boyfriend who's a chef! My darling cooks different dishes for me every single day, all 365 days without repeating once. Even the apple slices he cuts are shaped like cute little bunnies, so I absolutely love eating now." Someone replies enviously, "Wow! Where do you find a man like that?" She answers, "Find one? Good men like that no longer circulate on the market. He is actually married. His wife has had anorexia for three years. She has become only skin and bones. "He says just looking at her kills his appetite, and he does not even want to touch her. Well, I'm nothing like her. I always finish every dish he makes." My breathing catches in my throat. This morning, Nikolai personally made bunny-shaped apple slices for me. My fingertips turn cold as I tap into the woman's profile. Her caption reads, "Wow! If your wife won't eat bunny-shaped apple slices, then I will!" Attached is a photo of a man's long, elegant fingers holding an apple slice up to the woman's mouth. And the one reflected in her starry eyes after zooming in—is a face identical to Nikolai's.

After lights-out, I make my roommates play with an Ouija board with me. Being the scaredy-cat she is, my roommate decides to ask something stupid, "Where did my earphones go?" I almost burst out laughing. I can't believe she's using it to find her earphones. To our surprise, the planchette starts to move. It spells out, "It's under your bed beside the eye." We exchange glances in confusion. What eye? I snort and get out of bed. Using my phone's flashlight, I check under the bed. Nothing is there. Before I can make fun of my roommate for being superstitious, the door slams open. The student who stays next door barges into our room, her face as pale as a sheet. Her voice trembles as she shouts, "Wake up! Everyone on campus is going wild! Someone found an eyeball in our dorm!"

I booked a consultation with a renowned traditional medicine practitioner six months in advance to treat my surgeon wife's arousal disorder over the holidays. However, on the appointment date, Wendy did not show up. Just as I was about to call to question her, I noticed a photo her male friend had posted on social media. In the photo, my usually aloof wife was hugging the guy with a radiant smile. The caption read: [Only I can cure your problem.] But what caught my attention was my wife's flushed face in the photo, clearly displaying signs of arousal. With a cold smirk, I immediately liked and commented: [You must have magic fingers that work wonders!] The comment section exploded, with everyone speculating whether I would tear my wife's lover apart. What awaited my wife was our official divorce after the cooling-off period ended.

Three years after I landed on the wanted list, all 88 pieces of my dismembered corpse were thrown in front of the police station. After the forensics team put my body together, they identified my body as Julian Colt, the fiancé of the Organized Crime Department, Captain Kyra Schneider. Everyone, from elders in their eighties to young children, wanted me to see justice because not only had I betrayed Kyra and her team, but I had also publicly joined the criminal organization and become the lover of its leader. I was fired from the police force and hated by my loved ones. Kyra hated me the most, and she used the most cruel method of retrieving my memories to be broadcast to the world. On judgment day, the city square was filled with spectators, but when my memories were retrieved, along with the huge word 'innocent' splashed on it, everyone went crazy. "Traitor! A man like him should have been executed." "The evidence clearly points to his guilt. How is he innocent? Everyone knows how he helped the criminal organization to kill numerous police officers!" "Don't be tricked by him! He must have altered those memories!"

On the day before the college entrance assessment, my three childhood friends have gone missing collectively. Because of that, my phone is swamped with phone calls. The parents of my missing friends keep wailing to me, "We've worked so hard our entire lives just so our sons can get into a great university!" My homeroom teacher, Mr. Levinski, begins pressuring me. "You're the class president, so you must find them! The college entrance assessment is a vital event that can determine how one's future will turn out!" Even my classmates and my neighbors keep texting me for more updates. But what they don't know is that I've already hung up on my friends' phone calls for help by using my revision for the assessment as an excuse. In my previous life, my childhood friends had already gotten bewitched by Lucille Reyes, a delinquent. They insisted on celebrating their coming-of-age ceremony at a nightclub because of her. I accidentally overheard Lucille plotting with her delinquent friends that they intended on taking nudes of my friends and extort money from them so that they couldn't attend the college entrance assessment the next day. So, I did everything I could to stop my friends, only to get kicked to the side. "Don't stop us from pursuing true love!" For the sake of my friends' future, I informed their families at once and had them brought into the exam venue by force. Finally, all three of my childhood friends got into prestigious universities. But Lucille, on the other hand, got beaten to death by the delinquents because she couldn't pay her protection fees due to her scheme getting foiled. My friends broke down mentally because of her death. They then decided to pin the blame on me. On our freshman year, my friends treated me to some drinks out of "gratitude", only for them to spike my drink. Later on, they tossed me to the same group of delinquents, who violated me in an alley. They even had the gall to record everything from the alleyway while keeping an eye out for the police. Thanks to them, my future was completely ruined. My parents committed suicide out of despair. To rub salt onto my wound, those friends showed up at the hospital with the video and backed me into a corner once again. "You owe Lucy this much!" In my despair, I ended up jumping off the rooftop. When I open my eyes again, I've returned to the day before the college entrance assessment. As I watch my friends excitedly discussing the nightclub party behind my back, I can't help but smile. In this lifetime, I choose to lock my door and sign the guaranteed admission agreement meant for Mephton University, the most prestigious university ever, without any hesitation. As for my so-called friends, they can enjoy their coming-of-age ceremony in hell.

After 18 infamous gang leaders of Wicked Valley stumble upon me, they adopt me and work hard in raising me. Since my dads refuse to let me get in contact with all males while showing their violent sides to everyone else all day, I run away from home out of anger. I've left home for three years so far. Throughout the years, I've gotten into a passionate relationship. But on the night my boyfriend, Vincent Gray, proposes to me, he has the nerve to lace my red wine with drugs. Then, he ties me up and delivers me back to Wicked Valley. "The 18 bosses of Wicked Valley have posted a lucrative bounty on a young woman with a phoenix tattoo on her arm. It so happens that you have it. "My younger sister, Wendy Gray, has offended someone out there. Only by giving you to those bosses can Wendy's life be spared!" Then, Vincent adds sorrowfully, "Don't worry, Noelle. I'll definitely include you in my family tree once you're dead. I'll make sure that you won't die without a family." As I stare at Vincent's phony expression, deep down, I'm elated. It's been three years. Finally, someone is taking me home. While faced with Vincent's shocked look, I smile while snapping my fingers at the group of people, who are about to pick me up. "What are you waiting for, everyone? Prepare some seasonings! We're eating good tonight! Let's have lamb soup!"

[Having accidentally flirted with a legendary powerhouse, she desperately asked for help on the Internet.]After being betrayed by a scumbag and her elder sister, Catherine swore to become the shameless couple’s aunt! With that, she took an interest in her ex-boyfriend’s uncle.Little did she realize that he was wealthier and more handsome than her ex-boyfriend. From then on, she became a romantic wife to her ex-boyfriend’s uncle and always flirted with him.Although the man would give her the cold shoulder, she did not mind as long as she was able to retain her identity as her ex-boyfriend’s aunt.One day, Catherine suddenly realized that she was flirting with the wrong person!The man who she had been going all out to flirt with was not even the scumbag’s uncle!Catherine went mad. “I’m so done. I want to get a divorce!”Shaun was at a loss for words.What an irresponsible woman she was!If she wanted to get a divorce, then she could just dream on!

Right after I put the invoice of an eighty-thousand-dollar gold necklace into my bag, my Instagram went wild. A woman calling herself “Future In-law” showed a picture of a ring with a diamond the size of a pigeon egg. It was worth two million dollars. [It’s our first meeting, but my future in-law insisted on giving me this. I couldn’t say no.] The next second, the shop attendant handed me a receipt saying that I owed them two million dollars. “The lady from earlier charged you for her daughter’s two-million-dollar diamond ring. She said that you’re her future in-law, so you have to be nice to her too.” I scowled. “Do you have security footage? I’d like to find her.” The shop attendant shrugged and appeared dismissive. “Sorry, but the security camera broke down today. It’s written clearly on the receipt. You can’t refuse to pay.” Exasperated, I laughed, grabbed the unsigned receipt, and called the police. “Hello, officers. I just got scammed out of two million dollars at a jewelry shop.”