Novel & Cerita Tara Calico Photo

On the fourth day after my son's death, I decided to secretly dissolve my military marriage with my husband. Before that, I had three days to settle everything for my son. On the first day, I tricked my husband into signing the cremation papers. On the second day, I went to the school and collected the textbooks my son would never get to use. On the third day, I cooked a table full of dishes and begged my husband to celebrate our son's last birthday. He agreed, but soon after claimed he had a mission. Instead, he spent the entire night setting off fireworks with his childhood sweetheart. That night, I cooked. Then, I sat alone before my son's photo and ate all my son's favorite foods. The next day, my husband returned, guilt flickering in his eyes as he handed me a brand-new backpack. He said it was a gift for our child's first day of school. But he didn't know—our child would never have a first day of school.

On my fifth birthday with Zachary Murdock, I sit once again in front of a full table of cold food, just like every year before. Zachary had promised, as always, to spend the day with me. And, as always, he breaks that promise. This year, it's because his childhood sweetheart wanted to shoot a set of "artistic photos". She invited him and a few of his close buddies to be part of it. Without hesitation, he ditches me again and runs straight into her arms. At 11:00 pm, his childhood sweetheart posts a photo to her social media and sets it so that only I can see it. In the picture, four men are in nothing but black briefs and Windsor-knotted ties. They kneel around her while she is draped in sheer fabric like a goddess. The caption reads, "Some people beg for crumbs, but I own the entire bakery." I take a screenshot. Then, I send it to the girlfriends of all three of Zachary’s best buddies. If they all look down on me this much, let's hope they don't end up on their knees begging me someday.

Five years into our marriage, every time I accidentally brushed against my wife's skin, she would punish me by making me kneel in a tub of disinfectant while reciting the Code of Male Conduct. Then one day, I noticed a suspicious red mark on her collarbone and instinctively reached out to touch it. Even though she lost her temper, stormed out, and slammed the door behind her, she surprisingly didn't punish me afterward. Naively, I thought she was finally starting to tolerate my touch. But the next day, my virginity was listed in an auction attended by wealthy heiresses from Lowarke City's elite—scheduled to be sold off two days later. Rachel Bloom's friends leered at my photo as they calculated how much they'd bid, while she stood by completely indifferent, scrubbing herself over and over with disinfectant. "Rupert kissed that spot, and Michael dared to touch it? Who does he think he is? Just looking at him makes me sick."

After five years of marriage, my wife’s childhood friend posted a photo of a property deed in his social media circle with the caption, [Thank you, Miss CEO, for transferring the house to me.] I was stunned when I saw the address on the deed—it was my home. Confused, I left a comment. [?] Almost immediately, my wife, Alice, called and scolded me. "He’s a single dad, so pitiful! I only transferred the house to his name to make it easier for his daughter to attend school. It doesn’t affect us living there. How can you be so heartless and lack even a shred of compassion?" In the background, I could hear her childhood friend complaining bitterly. Half an hour later, he posted on social media again and tagged me. This time, he showed off a $150,000 sports car with the caption, [Paid in full! As the saying goes, where a woman spends her money is where her heart lies.] I knew it was my wife who bought him the car to make up for upsetting him. But this time, I’ve made up my mind—I’m filing for divorce.

They call me 'Ghost.' The king of mercenaries, feared across the entire black market. But for Madeline, the Godmother of the Chicago Mafia, I walked away from it all. She wanted me by her side, so I became a normal man. We were married for five years. The entire underworld knew she loved me more than life itself. She even had my dagger tattooed next to her family's crest—a permanent mark of loyalty. Until I got the photo from her lover. The bartender was naked, his chest covered in red scratches from her nails. Madeline’s hand, with its red polish, was still on his waist. He’d drawn his name right next to my dagger on her skin. And my wife had let him. "Madeline says I'm the only one who can make her feel like a woman. You can't satisfy her anymore. It's time to make way for a younger man." I didn't reply. I just made a call. "Hello. I need a new identity. And a plane ticket."

On the night of my fifth wedding anniversary with Sebastian Gray, he lit up the entire city with fireworks for me. All our friends kept saying what a wonderful man he was—so loving, so romantic. The kind of husband every woman dreams of. At the grand finale, the fireworks burst into words that lit up the night sky: Happy Birthday, Jen. Jennifer Kingsley was Sebastian's first love, his ideal woman, the one who had always lingered in his heart. Sebastian looked at me, his expression almost sheepish. "Ah, it's Jen's birthday too. They must have mixed up the fireworks." That night, Jennifer posted on her social media: "Men are boys till the day they die, always fumbling their way through romance." She added a picture of the fireworks, along with a photo of her and Sebastian standing close under the dazzling display. I liked her post and left a comment: "From school to altar—what a touching love story. When's the wedding?"

Three years into marriage, he treated her badly, while treating Charlotte like a treasure. He neglected her, their marriage feeling like a prison. Ella endured it all because she deeply loved George! Until she received a photo from Charlotte, when everything became clear to her. With a heavy heart, Ella coolly signed the papers... She then took off the apron of a virtuous housewife, and put on the crown of a queen, ruling the world. Returning once more to her rightful place as a billionaire heiress and a skilled doctor, she was no longer George's wife, but a powerful woman in her own right. Her ex-husband insisted, "Mrs. Wickham, I haven't signed yet! You can't be with anyone else!" Ella smiled faintly, "Mr. Wickham, we have no relationship anymore!" His eyes slightly red, the man trembled as he spoke the vows from their wedding day, "I will never divorce you!" The Divorced Female Billionaire Heiress is created by Eva TaleSmith, an eGlobal Creative Publishing signed author.

Three years of contract marriage, and Silas has been the picture of icy restraint — buttoning his shirts all the way to the top. Knowing he doesn't love me, I decide to stop lying to myself. But just as I'm about to flee with the divorce papers, I stumble upon a forum called Mischief & Mayhem. The pinned post screams in red letters: "URGENT! I'm actually an incubus. I've spent three years pretending to be cold and celibate so I won't scare my wife. But she just asked for a divorce and I can't hide it anymore... HELP: How do I win her back in 30 days without revealing what I am?" In the attached photo, a black heart-tipped tail is shamefully coiled around a suit trouser leg, its tip hooked around a tie. That tie — I bolt upright in bed. That's the limited-edition tie I gave Silas. My iceberg husband is secretly a lovesick male incubus?

Our wedding anniversary also happens to be our son's birthday. A month in advance, I carefully plan a family trip for the three of us—me, my husband, and our son. But right before we're supposed to leave, both of them suddenly disappear on me. I'm left standing alone in the pouring rain, dialing their numbers. On the other end, my son's young voice comes through, sounding cold and impatient. "Dad's having dinner with Ms. Moore. We don't want to go anymore." The call ends, and I'm blocked. Later that night, they intentionally lock me out of the house. I'm left standing in the freezing cold all night long. Soaked from the rain, I come down with a high fever and develop pneumonia. Meanwhile, my husband and son are off vacationing with Sophia Moore, smiling for a happy family photo with just the three of them. And in that moment, I know this marriage has truly come to an end.

Jenny posted a picture of me and her brother, who had an intellectual disability. The caption? "Finally, a happy ending!" The comments were all the same: "Is this your sister-in-law? She’s gorgeous!" I simply replied with a question mark, but Jenny ignored me and responded to someone else instead. "She's kinda my sister-in-law, yes!" It didn't take long for Steven to call me, his tone full of anger. "It was just a little edit, do you really have to blow things out of proportion?" Half an hour later, Jenny posted another photo of her sitting in Steven's luxury car, and even tagged me in it. "We may not be related by blood, but this big brother of mine has always been my rock!" Steven commented. "I'll always be here." I knew he was trying to get a rise on me on purpose to appease Jenny, but I didn't grace them with a reply this time. All I did was like the post and file for divorce.