Story Critique Paper Example

Aku tak tahu harus mulai dari mana. Semua berjalan begitu cepat. Dalam waktu satu tahun, hidupku sudah berubah 180 derajat. Keluargaku hancur begitu saja. Segalanya berawal dari satu keputusan yang fatal, yang perlahan merenggut mereka satu per satu. Rasanya air mata ini sudah habis untuk menangisi kepergian mereka yang terlalu mendalam, sementara aku hanya bisa berdiri diam, menyaksikan semuanya terjadi tanpa bisa berbuat apa-apa. Namaku Azarea Andini Sanjaya atau biasa dipanggil zara, anak pertama dari seorang pengusaha properti di timur pulau jawa milik Ardian Sanjaya nama dari papaku . Sejak kecil hidupku selalu berkecukupan. Walaupun ada satu yang kurang, yaitu kasih sayang seorang ibu.

They tried to take everything from her: her sanity, her pride, and her daughter. Cast out into a storm by her own husband, Avery Reed was branded a disgrace simply for giving birth to a daughter. Her enemies called her unstable and labeled her child a failure, and for a moment, she almost believed them. Until he arrived. Ashton Knight wasn't just a man from her past; he was a billionaire who could buy and burn his enemies' worlds to the ground. He offered her protection within his fortress of luxury, promising to turn her tears into ammunition and her wounds into strength. Her enemies thought they were fighting a broken woman, but they had no idea that behind her now stood a king, ready to burn their entire dynasty to ash. As she takes refuge in his dangerous embrace, Avery must wonder... does she only want justice, or does she want his heart as well?

จากมาเฟียหนุ่มมาดโหด สายตาดุนิ่งราวกับยามรัตกาล ที่มองใคร คนนั้นเป็นต้องหลบสายตา แต่เมื่อชีวิตมาเฟียสุดโหดต้องเข้าโหมดมีลูก

I did three years in prison for my wife, Lilian Parson. The day I got out, she handed me an envelope for her company's grand opening. Inside was a single dollar bill. For a second, I thought it was a mistake. Then I saw her colleague, Nathan Ramsey, holding his envelope—his also contained a single dollar. Relieved, I pushed my doubts aside. I smiled, stood by Lilian's side through the entire ceremony, the picture of a proud, supportive husband. That night, scrolling through Instagram, I saw Nathan's latest post. A photo of a check. [Congratulations to Lilian Parson on the grand opening! So generous—100 million as a gift!] The comments section exploded with envy and blessings, congratulating him and "the boss" on finally becoming a couple. Lilian offered no explanation. Instead, she hurried to draw a line between us. "You just got out of prison," she said coolly. "It's not a good look to go public right now. Let's keep our marriage a secret. In front of others, just call me your boss." Then she turned around and liked Nathan's post. I wiped the tears from my eyes, picked up my phone, and dialed the number of her greatest rival. "From now on, I work for you," I said.

The moment my roommate walked in, she used my locker. She claimed to have too many things and nowhere else to put them. I rolled my eyes. Why should I let her get her way? I was not her parent. She was no princess, but she acted like one. I was ready to argue, but she tossed 200,000 dollars at me. “At your service, Your Highness!”

My son was caught in a car accident. My husband said that without a cornea donor, he would be trapped in darkness forever. Heartbroken, I let him sweet-talk me into signing away my corneas. Blind, I overheard my son gloating, "Dad, the plan worked. Mom fell for it, and Rachel's got her sight back. She won't be miserable anymore." "Yeah, now we're a real family with her," replied my husband. The truth gutted me. They'd played me like a fool to save my husband's old flame. When I confronted them, Rachel Huffman shoved me down a staircase, and I died in agony. But when I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day of my son's car accident.

In my previous life, everything I do to care for myself somehow ends up benefiting my new housekeeper instead. I apply expensive skincare, yet dark spots and fine lines spread across my face, whereas the 45-year-old housekeeper's face becomes silkier. I jog every morning, yet my body only grows heavier and bulkier, while hers becomes slender and toned. When my husband notices the stretch marks on my abdomen, his face twists with disgust, and he never touches me again. "I genuinely can't bring myself to touch you. How can you look worse than Mirabelle when you take such good care of yourself?" My housekeeper looks at me with a sinister smile. A chill crawls up my spine, and the strange feeling makes me fire her on the spot. Yet, as soon as she leaves, I start aging at lightning speed, entering menopause 20 years early and developing diabetes and high blood pressure. I see every doctor I can, but after hanging on for a week, I die from a stroke. When I open my eyes again, I'm back on the day she first reports to work. This time, I push away the royal jelly she sets in front of me with a pleasant smile. "I've been avoiding certain foods lately. You can have it instead."

I was shattered to learn that my precious child was not mine. My own flesh and blood was gone forever. I was not going to crumble under the weight of the revelation or consume myself with hysteria or grief. Instead, I channeled my pain into putting my mother-in-law behind bars and breaking my husband before moving on with my life.

After my daughter, Mia Powell, was declared brain-dead, my husband, Liam Powell, urged me to sign the organ donation consent form. I was drowning in grief and my mind was on the verge of collapse. That was when I accidentally discovered that her attending doctor, Blair Lincoln, was Liam’s old flame. They had lied about Mia’s brain death, just to trick me into signing the form and steal her heart to save Blair’s daughter, Sophia. I watched as Liam picked Sophia up from the hospital. The three of them smiled together, like a perfect, happy family. When I confronted them, they pushed me off a building, and I died from the fall. Given a second chance, I had returned to the day I was supposed to sign the organ donation form. As I stared at Mia lying in that hospital bed, I silently vowed. This time, that scumbag and that wretch would pay with their lives for what they did to Mia.

My dormmate falls in the dorm and sends the rest of us the hospital bill. She wants us to compensate her. "I only fell because you guys left a puddle of water at the door. It's only right that you compensate me, don't you think? It's not much—you each just have to give me a thousand dollars to cover the checkup, medication, transport, the classes I missed, and the mental distress I suffered." I exchange looks with my two other dormmates. All three of us politely decline. That's when she goes berserk. She screeches threateningly, "Do you know who my father is? I'll make sure you guys can't graduate if you don't compensate me!"