Stomach Growling Fanfiction

My husband searches for doctors everywhere to cure me of my stomach cancer. I think he loves me to the core, but after I recover, he takes away my left kidney to save his true love, who's been comatose for two years. He leans down to kiss her as I watch. "She owes you this; I've finally made her repay you. You'll definitely get better after this." What he doesn't know is that I'm already weak from the cancer. I die after he takes my kidney. That's when he goes crazy. He breaks down in tears and screams at the doctors. "Didn't you say she wouldn't die?"

The love that I knew wasn't like the ones written in a book. It wasn't beautiful and magical. It doesn't bring butterflies in my stomach and it doesn't make me feel special. It doesn't feel like home, I do not feel secure. It does not make me feel safe and worthy. The love that I experience doesn't feel like love. I'm not really sure if it is love because it made me doubt, insecure and made me feel unloved. And all I experienced was pain. No it was torture. To see him love someone else when all I could do is to love him and let him love her. Now I don't know if I could ever love someone else, after him.

I was reborn. Right back to the day I adopted Peter. The wind cut sharp, baby cries slicing through the cold. That's when it hit me—this was the day Stuart Pete, my oh-so-loving husband, dumped his illegitimate child right in my path after work. He knew me too well. The second I picked the kid up, he'd spin it into an adoption, making the boy ours. Last time, I fell for it. This time? I walked away without a second thought. Later, I heard the kid got pneumonia from being left out in the freezing cold—fever so bad, it wrecked him for life. I laughed until my stomach hurt. What I didn't see coming? Peter was reborn too—about to experience the life he was meant to have.

On the day we were supposed to get our marriage license, Michael Robertson ghosted. I sat outside the County Clerk's Office for hours. Instead of him, I got a pic from his secretary, Kallie Clunt. She was in his lap, arms wrapped around him, making out like it was the hottest scene in a drama. [Sorry, Elsa. Michael said he had to comfort my broken heart. You don't mind, do you?] When I asked him about it, he just looked annoyed. "She gave me blood once. What's the big deal if I hang out with her? Can't you be a little more understanding?" My stomach dropped. I turned away and called his older brother. "Leon, do you still want to marry me?"

For Renata, the world of the rich is a place where she will never belong, as everyone, without exception, as self-centered, mean, rude, overbearing, cheating and wicked. When she leaves the country, she starts working for one of the biggest companies in the world, and although she hates herself for feeling this, she can't keep the bold Italian out of her thoughts, she can't control her heartbeat let alone the butterflies in her stomach every time he's around. She tries not to want him for 3 reasons: 1 - He is rich. 2 - He is her boss, and 3 - She finds the behavior of this Italian tycoon very suspicious. The more she tries to stay away, the more he insists on getting closer. Between them, which will speak louder: love or reason?

“Strip!” A cold command sent chills down my spine. “What the hell?” I thought. Before I could get any words past my throat, a tall, dark figure stepped forward. “Get undressed,” the man growled. His voice was like waves crashing against rocks and his command, one that almost brought me to my knees, made my stomach flip. A night at the club brings Elodie closer to her destiny, but she vows to stay away from Chase because he was trouble with a capital T. Fate brings them even closer when she realizes he was to be her step uncle. A human and an Alpha, their worlds don't mix as far as Chase knew but what he didn't know was Elodie wasn't an ordinary human girl as he thought.

“Ms. Arnold, you really should sign this divorce agreement. Otherwise, I won’t be able to answer to Mr. Fisher.” Jeremy Fisher’s personal lawyer, Cole Stewart, stood in front of Hailey Arnold with an anxious expression. In his hands were a freshly printed divorce agreement, the pages still crisp. This was the thirty-third time Jeremy had asked to divorce her. The first time, Hailey climbed onto the rooftop and jumped. She survived but broke one of her legs. The second time, she slashed her wrist with a small knife, and blood flooded half the bathroom. The third time, she swallowed an entire bottle of sleeping pills and spent three days in the hospital having her stomach pumped. … Every single time, she had used death to force Jeremy to compromise, but this time, she was tired of it.

I did not get pregnant in the five years that I was married to Julian Gunter. He claimed that there was something wrong with his body and asked me not to leave him. But one day, I was sent to the hospital because of a stomach ache and continuous bleeding. A nurse came in and gave me an injection. She muttered impatiently, “Can’t you hold yourself back? You’re pregnant, but you had such vigorous love making. It serves you right that you lost your baby.” I endured the pain and walked out. “Mr. Gunter wanted Mrs. Gunter to have a permanent contraceptive injection after her fifth miscarriage. Don’t worry. Mr. Gunter has a way around it.” “The heir of Gunter Group can only be Mr. Jack Gunter.” Jack was the son of Julian’s sister-in-law.

Pregnant. It wasn't possible. My mate was impotent, doomed to be the first Alpha in generations unable to produce heirs. Yet this cheap plastic stick I had bought on a whim seemed to suggest otherwise. I swiped at the beads of sweat gathering along my hairline, my breaths coming faster. "This can't be right," I muttered. But the crimson line remained, taunting me. My wolf stirred restlessly, a pleased rumble echoing through our bond. "A pup! Our Alpha's pup," she purred. I pressed a hand to my still-flat stomach, emotions churning wildly. Of course I was overjoyed - as Luna, providing heirs was my most sacred duty. After nine months sharing Adrian's bed with no success, I had accepted my fate.

When a ferocious storm tore through our town, Frank Turner risked his life to save me from being swept off our balcony's edge. Grateful, I finally said yes to his relentless marriage proposals. From then on, he treated me like royalty, fussing over every sniffle. To the world, he was the gold standard of devotion. But two years into our marriage, his warmth faded. When crippling stomach pain left me doubled over, he brushed it off, claiming work demanded his night. I went to find him, only to catch him in a steamed-up car with a girl, both stripped bare. My fairy-tale marriage shattered like glass. Turning around, I booked a flight and left the country. Frank tore the city apart looking for me, but it was too late.