Stoic Expression

Love is very painful, deceitful yet it is remedy for a torn heart. Isqaar Tarun is such a beautiful girl, who strongly believe in love as the portion for the soul. All her life has always been pain and sorrows, loosing her parents at a tender age, living with a stoic mafia brother who never said a word to her and her frail health made it worse. but love saves Isqaar Tarun, despite the fact that she solemnly hates the mafia for taking away her country's freedom and her brother, she falls for the mafioso prince, her brother's best friend. Ahmed looks like her prince charming, he is kind to her and only her, and of course very good looking. every one wishes to have him but only she has him. And she wants to change him, for the best, however the mafia is all Ahmed has ever had. fate plays a very cunning game to her when she feels she has the world at her feet... Love is just a lie the novel is about the lives of four growing adults. struggling with love, peer pressure, poverty and gang life...

At the wedding I've spent months planning, my usually stoic fiancé, Anthony Scott, is about to run off with his assistant, Erica Jones. To top it all off, she is wearing a wedding gown. Out of nowhere, his younger brother, Christopher Scott, grabs my hand and plans to pull me straight to City Hall. He disregards my panicking eyes. "Let's get married," he says, as if it's the most normal thing in the world. Then, the stage decorations suddenly collapse, revealing a room full of guests mocking and laughing at me. The two men who once swore to love me forever do all just to make Erica smile. The three of them clink glasses and drink a love toast on stage, completely lost in their own moment. "The wedding you planned was way too outdated. You should thank Erica for turning it into a bachelorette party!" "The real wedding will be this Sunday. Isn't Erica's idea amazing?" Anthony and Christopher were confident that I wouldn't dare leave them. But I quietly pick up my phone and type a message. "Let's set the wedding date for this Sunday, Levi."

My husband was a senior military officer and a hardcore military fanatic. When I went into labor and my life was at risk, I begged him to sign the consent form for an emergency C-section. Instead, he looked at me coldly and asked, “What’s the maximum cruising speed of a Boeing 747? Answer correctly, and I’ll sign.” Later, my body tore from the prolonged labor, and our son suffocated to death. He said calmly, as if reciting a fact, “One thousand one hundred and twenty-seven kilometers per hour. Remember that?” At that moment, I looked at his indifferent expression and realized that I no longer loved him. With that, I left behind the divorce papers and disappeared from his life. “Felix, the military-illiterate wife you were ashamed of will never come back.”

In my seventh year of trying to win the favor of mafia Don Ethan Larsen, the system declared my mission a failure. I was set to be erased in one month. I did not cry or make a scene. I accepted the death countdown with calm detachment and started a livestream called "My Last Wishes Before I Die." The first thing I did was throw the multimillion-dollar wedding ring into the drain, right in front of Ethan and his first love, just to hear it clatter out of sight. Ethan's expression hardened. "Nina, what kind of trick are you trying to pull this time? You begged me in order to wear that ring and stood there for three days." I smiled, lifted my middle finger, and replied, "Pfft… As if you deserve it."

On my wedding day, my fiance's first love appeared at the wedding ceremony wearing the exact same haute couture gown as mine. I watched them stand together at the entrance, greeting the guests as if they were the bride and groom. Maintaining a calm expression, I complimented them, saying they looked like the perfect couple—beauty and brains, a match made in heaven. She burst into tears and fled the scene. He, however, didn't hesitate to humiliate me in front of everyone, accusing me of being petty and narrow-minded. When the wedding banquet was over, he left for what was supposed to be our honeymoon—with her by his side. I didn't argue or cause a scene. Instead, I quietly booked an appointment for an abortion.

---> if you are interested in my work, please check out my novel The Starving Vulture. Available on Amazon, $3.99 for the Ebook and $14.95 for the Paperback https://www.amazon.com/Starving-Vulture-Miguel-Monta%C3%B1a/dp/1951150899<--------- Aster Likaya is a Battle Mage of the Zeraph Republic. Raised in a military family, she was destined for a life on the front. As a Battle Mage she has mastered the art of Controlling. A simple but effective kind of magic that is necessary when one bonds and commands the essential robotic warmachines of her world. The Gearbanes. And now, she is a Captain. But much to her surprise, she is not handed a company but a unit of stoic and silent soldiers that call themselves DragonWolves. Her second in command, is Lieutenant Able Froster, young but grim faced soldier who has seen combat since he was barely a boy. For their first mission, they are given a simple task. Retrieve an agent of the Republic who is lost in the vast swampland known as the Suha Marshes. Little do they know, that they are not the only factions searching for the man. For in the Suha Marshes, hunt the cannibalistic Birchmen and the Kolysian pirates. All eager for the prize the agent carries. This is the world of Likaya and Froster. Dominated by machines powered by magic, weapons ignited by runes and wars fought over ancient relics forged by a forgotten past. Welcome to Likaya's Wolves.

An accident leaves Preston Brown unable to have children. The fight over his family's fortune is heating up. Desperate for an heir, Preston arranges for me to sleep with his best friend, Rowan Kerr. I quietly dump the sleeping pills Preston gave me and pretend to be clueless. Then, I lose myself in a night of passion with Rowan. … The next morning, right in front of Preston, I smile sweetly and say, "Honey, you were incredible last night. I've never felt so good." His expression darkens. "Do you prefer the man I am by day, or the one who takes you at night?" I act bashful, tugging on his sleeve. "Both. But I especially love the one who knows how to satisfy me at night."

On the way to my twin boys' parent-teacher conference, I'm informed that my sons, Ricky and Micky Stallone, have already been taken home by their parents. I'm immediately worried sick about their safety. However, when I look across the road, I suddenly catch sight of a very happy family of four—Ricky, Micky, my husband, Corbin Stallone, and his first love he could never forget, Ingrid Lacelle. Ricky and Micky both run into Ingrid's arms, cozying up to her and calling her "Mommy". Meanwhile, Corbin gently kisses Ingrid's forehead with a doting expression on his face. I join the crowd of envious onlookers, watching the beginning of the end of my marriage.

At the dinner on the third day after our wedding, my husband Ryan Lawson's adopted sister, Zelda Lawson, shoved a baby into my arms along with a legal document. "Victoria Sullivan, I know you can't have children, so I had one for Ryan. This baby is my wedding gift to you. Sign this custody agreement, and we can all still be one family." I did not take it. Instead, I turned to look at Ryan standing beside me. He stepped in front of Zelda protectively and said coldly, "Just sign it, Victoria. I can't let the family line end with me." As I looked at his matter-of-fact expression, I suddenly laughed. Since that was the case, this marriage was no longer worth keeping.

Having an Awakenist as my wife meant enduring her monkish attitude toward sex. We could only be intimate on the sixteenth of every month. Every detail—my position, rhythm, even my expression—had to follow her rigid rules. If I showed too much pleasure, she would immediately rise and leave. We had been married for five years. Was I ever tired of this? Yes. Still, I always gave in. I accepted these limitations because I loved her. "The Saintess loves me too," I told myself. That faith shattered the day I was sent to extinguish a hotel fire. Amid the flames, I found my wife pressed close to a man in disheveled clothes. Between their arms was a young boy.