Novel & Cerita Sweethearts Theme

My childhood friend said that he was connected with the doll. Now that he had lost it, he called me up to cry. One hand held my phone as I consoled him, while the other toyed with the doll. His voice began to take on a more interesting tone with my purposeful touches… I squeezed and pinched the toy and comforted him, “Shh, I agree with you. Whoever took your toy is a terrible person…”

I always thought if I just held on a little longer, I could still keep this family together. But my mate Ethan and my brother William poured all their favoritism onto Ava and her mother, and left me nothing but coldness and humiliation. They could even look me in the eye and say, “She’s your sister too,” like that was enough to make me bless them. That night, I did something so insane it bordered on self-destruction: I dragged my suitcase out the door and let the house that held all my memories get swallowed by flames. The news exploded, our villa became ruins. The security footage showed “no one leaves,” and the police made a preliminary judgment that the person inside was “highly likely deceased.” Ethan didn’t believe it. Not until he and William were handed that bag of belongings at the police station, a diamond, a Blood Moonstone, the things I treasured most, did they finally understand: I wasn’t throwing a tantrum. I was really, truly done with them. Too bad. It was already too late.

I had been married to Jeremy Yeager for three years, and he had a strict rule. "We can't lend our money to outsiders. We help out during emergencies, but we don't support them endlessly. This is the bottom line." Thus, I begged him on my knees when my father needed 60,000 dollars for his gastric cancer surgery. He remained calm. "If we break this rule today, your entire family will be draining our bank account tomorrow. I have to be responsible for this family." I sold my dowry to raise the surgery fee and accepted that some boundaries needed to be kept in marriage. When Jeremy's childhood sweetheart, Celia Marten, returned to the country to start a business and her start-up funds were insufficient, he transferred 470,000 dollars from our joint account. I confronted him, yet he just laughed and replied, "It's different. Celia's doing legitimate business. It's guaranteed to turn a profit. Besides, she's not an outsider." Looking at the numbers on the transfer record, I suddenly understood everything. It was not a matter of principle. The 60,000 dollars for a life-saving treatment was for an outsider; the 470,000 dollars investment was not. What truly mattered was who wanted the money. I did not argue or make a scene. I took our marriage certificate out of the drawer and slammed it on the table. "She's not an outsider, huh? Just make her your wife, then."

On our wedding day, the big screen glitched—then flipped to kissing shots of Caleb Gorman and his "girl best friend," Holly Beech. Holly shot up, hand over her mouth, smiling all fake-innocent. "Relax, everyone. We were just messing around. Caleb and I go way back. Guess that makes me wife number two." Caleb smiled, soft like always. "That's just her. She's a total blabbermouth. Don't take it seriously." I looked at him. Calm. "She plays kissing pics of you two at our wedding and calls herself your 'wife number two.' That's messing around?" His face tightened. Annoyed. "It's a few photos. We've been together five years. You're really gonna nitpick something this small and not let it—" I raised a hand, cutting him off. "Yeah. I am. I'm not letting it go." That hit him. He wasn't used to me standing firm. I turned to the crowd. "This wedding's over."

I, Cassidy Stanford, am on a graduation trip with my childhood best friend, Randell Lautner. Just as we plan to return home, he suddenly extends my hotel stay for another week. When I want to ask him why, a barrage of comments suddenly appears before my eyes. "Run, Randy! Don't let Cassidy stop you anymore! Don't you know that Evie did poorly in her exams, and she's about to be married off to a random bald guy by her own parents? Run! It's urgent! Go save her now!" "That's right! If it weren't for that wicked woman using her childhood friendship bond to manipulate Randy the whole time, Randy and Evie would have been together a long time ago! Cassidy is such a horrible person!" "In the original story, Cassidy cried and threw a huge fuss after finding out that Randy was leaving her. She even threatened suicide to make him stay with her, which ultimately caused poor Evie to be forced into marrying Baldy! And Randy hated her so much after that he began getting revenge on her! "Hah, just wait and see, Cassidy! She will soon get what she deserves! Randy will eventually torture her until she turns into a madwoman! It's going to be so satisfying!" "That's a pity, though. I know that we're just following the script here and that Randy eventually has his revenge, but I really, really hate the evil side character so much! Cassidy was the one who ruined Evie's life! Who does she think she is?" Me? The evil side character? While I am still confused by everything, I suddenly receive a text message from Randell. "Cassie, I have an urgent matter, and I need to leave first. But don't worry. I've already extended your hotel stay for another week. "Behave yourself and don't kick up a fuss with me." What?

On the day we reported for the new semester, my girlfriend had just been admitted to one of the country's top universities. That morning, she suddenly told me she had chosen the wrong major and wanted to take a year off to retake the entrance exam. I knew exactly why. It was for her childhood friend, the one who had not made it. Her parents begged me to talk her out of it. After a night of painful deliberation, she appeared downstairs at my dorm and said, "I've made up my mind. I won't retake the exam. Let's stay together and make this work." However, during the freshman welcome event, just as her name was being called, her phone lit up. A message from him. [My prep class started today. My deskmate isn't you anymore. It feels so strange.] She went completely still. I tightened my grip on her hand and warned her quietly, "If you leave now, we're finished. Forever." She whispered an apology, dragged her suitcase behind her, and walked out of the campus.

It's our third wedding anniversary. On this day, Zoey Hayes, who has had a crush on my husband for three years, flaunts their love on her social media.

My childhood sweetheart and I are about to exchange rings at our wedding ceremony. Just then, a young woman charges into his arms and says pitifully, "Don't abandon me." My childhood sweetheart brought her home when he was in high school after chancing upon her by the roadside. Everyone knows how doting he is toward her. When she charges into his arms, she "accidentally" shoves me aside. I lose my balance and fall off the stage, knocking my head on the steps. I end up in a coma. When I wake up again, I'm taken back to the day my childhood sweetheart meets the young woman.

The day I dissolved the mate bond, I called my childhood friend to pick me up. I had a bank card with barely any balance left, my phone, and the same clothes I had worn the day I moved into this house. That was everything I owned after all those years living in the pack. My mate, Derek Anderson, called to say I had left a few things behind. "Forget it. Just throw them away." He seemed reluctant to give up. "Your son keeps saying he wants to see you." I dragged my suitcase behind me and walked away without looking back. "Tell him he'll have a new mom soon. The one he's always wanted." Like father, like son. They even fell for the same woman. In the past, I would have asked myself, 'Why won't they even look at me? I've given them so much.' Now, I felt nothing. If they didn't love me, then so be it. I would let them go and let myself go in the process too. My childhood best friend, Eric Keaton, helped me with my luggage and opened the door of his Maybach. I said one last thing to my mate. "I won't ever disturb you and your son again." After a long time, he found me. He grabbed my arm like a madman and stared at me in despair. "Leah Sullivan, why don't you care about us anymore?"

My husband is known as a ruthless CEO, but somehow, he is tender and warm with me. I'm passionate about art restoration, especially antique paintings, so he transforms his private collection room into a professional-grade studio just for me. He even brings in top experts to mentor me. Once, I spent three sleepless nights restoring a rare 12th-century painting. He ends up buying the entire museum that the painting belongs to, just so I can study it without restrictions. To marry me, he goes head-to-head with his powerful family, even stages a hunger strike, until they finally give in. At our engagement party, he gets down on one knee in front of everyone and says, "Ash, you deserve nothing but the best in this world." The ring he designs himself has an engraving on the inside that says, "Art brought us together, love holds us forever." Everyone says Vincent Hawthorn loves me like a maniac, and I believe it—until I restore one of his late mother's paintings…