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My sister-in-law sent me a photo of her kissing my husband on the beach. Just a few minutes later, she deleted the photo and sent me a text saying, “Oops, sent to the wrong person. Lol.” I knew it was deliberate. It was never a mistake. She wanted me to see how happy my husband was with her. Clara was never my sister-in-law. Three years ago, my husband had lied about her, claiming she was his younger sister, and I believed him. But after five years of marriage, I discovered—far too late—that Clara was never his sister. She was his mistress, his childhood lover, the woman he had been sleeping with under the same roof as me while making me serve her as if she were truly my sister-in-law. And now what? He had lied again… said he was going on a business trip. Yet Clara had just sent me a picture—a cute, sickening picture—of my husband happily kissing the very woman he had once claimed was his younger sister. The photo carried a timestamp showing the exact time and location. It was real. There was no denying it. They were in Hawaii, on a beach, laughing, kissing, and having the time of their lives… while he had made me believe he was away on business. Without saying a word, I saved the picture and posted it straight to Instagram, captioning it: "Congratulations to my sister-in-law… on finally becoming the official wife.” Then I turned off my phone and went to bed. The next morning, after having breakfast with my cat, Lulu, and taking the warmest bath ever, I turned my phone back on—and froze. Over 200 missed calls were waiting for me. Notifications exploded across my phone. And it didn’t stop there—the number of unattended messages kept climbing past 250.

During the holidays, my boss wants us to choose between a holiday bonus and tarts. I don't like tarts at all, so I'm the first one to vote for a bonus. But the intern, Davin Holt, who's in charge of gathering everyone's votes and opinions, is quick to pin me on the hall of shame in the company's group chat. "Fabian, we mainly celebrate the holidays just to experience the atmosphere, you know? Isn't it too materialistic of you to vote for a bonus instead?" The department head tags me in the group chat as well. "Fabian, our company prioritizes the team spirit even more." In the end, everyone except me chooses the tarts. On the day of our holiday team bonding event, Davin bought everyone nut tarts. He knows that I'm allergic to nuts, and yet he still forces me to eat the tart in front of my boss just to show that I have team spirit. "Fabian, I bought the tarts with everyone's bonus. You can't just rain on our parade by rejecting them, right?" The next thing I know, I begin having difficulties breathing. At the same time, patches of red rashes break out on my skin. But Davin shoots me a look of disgust. "Dude, must you really spoil the mood while everyone else is having fun?" Desperately, I rummage through my bag for my allergy medication, only to see more tarts in its place. The sight of me looking so wretched makes Davin roar in laughter. "Medicine can be harmful to you, you know! You should have more desserts instead! That's why I've changed all of your medication to tarts!" Already, I find it more and more difficult to breathe. So, I text the CEO of this company on the spot. "Mom, my allergy is acting up! I'm at…"

“Camille, I’ll love you forever!” Jameson let out a low, agonized growl. Just as he was about to climax, his phone suddenly began to buzz. He ignored it, of course. Now was hardly the time. However, his phone lit up again. The moment he saw the text on the screen, his body froze. Camille heard him answer the call. “Hello?” In the deep silence of the night, the voice on the phone cut through the stillness, clear and unmistakable. “Jameson, did you know that Sylvia—” Jameson switched languages and cut in with a sharp command, “Keep it down. It's not a good time.” The other person switched languages too, though he was still loud. “The hospital results came in. Sylvia is in the final stages of cancer. She only has a month left! Her last wish is to become your wife. Can you grant her that before she passes?” Jameson’s expression changed immediately. “What?! Wait for me!” He ended the call and turned to Camille. “Camille, something urgent came up. I need to step out for a bit. Be good and stay home. I’ll be back after you’ve had some sleep.” Before she could respond, he rose to wash up, changed his clothes, and left without looking back. Moments later, her phone buzzed. Sylvia: [Camille, you lost. I told you—Jameson has always been mine.] Right above it was a message from three days ago: [If I tell him I have cancer, do you think Jameson will leave you and come to me? I bet he will.] Camille’s gaze slowly shifted from her phone screen to the open bedroom door. What Jameson did not know was that she had already picked up a new language. She understood every word of that call. After a long moment, a faint, bitter smile appeared on her face. “Yeah, I lost...”

I've been in a long-distance relationship with Xavier Harrington for four years. Every time we meet up with each other, the first thing he says to me is, "You've gotten fatter… and shorter." When my friend finds out about it, she jokes to me, "Maybe he has another girlfriend who's taller and thinner than you." It's supposed to be a joke, and yet I take it seriously. It explains why I've decided to travel a span of 1,800 miles just to seek Xavier out at the city he's stationed to. But that's when I accidentally stumble upon Xavier going on a stroll with a young woman side by side. I trail behind them, only to see them going to a cafe that's filled with people. There, they line up so that they can snap commemorative photos. However, whenever Xavier's hanging out with me, he often turns my suggestions down impatiently. To him, lining up at such places is a waste of time. Later on, Xavier and the woman secure a table in a restaurant. There, Xavier pulls out a chair for her before he starts setting out the cutlery for her. Even when the food is served, he will subconsciously push the woman's favorite dish in her direction. For the first time ever in our relationship of eight years, I find out that Xavier can be caring when he feels like it. I watch as Xavier chats animatedly with the woman at the table. He shares everything with her, be it the irritating experiences at work or the funny and interesting incidents that have happened to him so far. Then, I lower my head to look at the short text messages Xavier has sent to me in the past. "Time for work. It's lunch time. I'm about to nap." Suddenly, I find my relationship with Xavier extremely boring, so I dig out the invitation sent by my company regarding their outstation request and tap on it. After all, I no longer want anything to do with this flawed relationship anymore.

When I'm pulling an overnight shift at midnight, I receive a text from my boyfriend of five years, Robert Howell. "I've already ended the rental agreement on our previous apartment. I'm sending you our new address now." After glancing at the address, realization dawns on me immediately. "Is this because of Daisy again?" Daisy Baldwin is the so-called delicate yet strong-willed young woman, whom Robert has mentioned to me. This is our third time moving apartments in just half a year. We've moved from a high-end apartment located in the boisterous city all the way to a residential area in the rural slums. All this… just so Robert can get closer to Daisy. I must have exposed Robert's true intentions, for he sounds quite humiliated and furious. "Can you stop being so petty? Dee Dee was stalked after she got off her overtime shift! You're a woman as well; how is it that you don't have any trace of empathy for her?" As I look out the window and see the night sky, I feel a wave of exhaustion hitting me all of a sudden. Honestly, I don't remember how many times Robert and I have argued over Daisy. At first, I was enraged and aggrieved. Now, I'm just speechless. "I can't be bothered to waste my breath on you. I'm going to pick Dee Dee up from work now." Robert ends the call before I can respond. The thing is, Robert has never asked me if I wanted to move right from the start. He also never asks me if I need a ride home since it's already this late at night. That's why I drop my signature on the overseas assignment agreement that has been left on my desk for a week without consulting Robert at all.

A text message popped up in the class group chat. A student had been in a car accident and had been rushed to the hospital. She urgently needed a donor with a rare RH-Negative blood type. Wanting to help, I went to the hospital and donated 800 milliliters of blood. Afterward, I passed out from blood loss. When she woke up, she claimed she was pregnant and said the baby was mine. Everyone accused me of crossing a line despite being an educator and professor in college. They said I had slept with a student and got her pregnant. I went to confront her, but she acted like she was the victim. "Your blood is in my body now, and in the baby's body too. What's wrong with saying the baby is yours? From now on, my baby and I are depending on you. You'd better take good care of us and make sure we don't suffer, or I'll sue you for seducing me and dumping me!" Furious, I shoved her. She rammed her stomach into the corner of a table on purpose and miscarried. The internet decided I was a scumbag who had killed the baby on purpose. "How can someone like that exist? How can someone like that teach at all!" I lost my job. I was doxxed and harassed over the phone. Someone even threw acid on me and destroyed my face. I lost everything. My wife, who was eight months pregnant at the time, believed me and defended me, only for the internet to turn on her too. They accused her of helping a monster to hurt others. The stress caused her to have a serious hemorrhage, and she and the baby both did not make it. Crushed by guilt and grief, I jumped off a building and killed myself. That student, however, profited from my tragedy and became an influencer with a million followers overnight. When I opened my eyes again, I had regressed to the day I saw the message in the group chat.  

“Easy baby, let me show you how it's done.” I flipped him onto his back and settled between his thighs. His eyes widened, that pretty blush spreading down his neck as I pushed back inside him. “Ahh… go slow,” His head fell back into the pillow, his fingers clutching my chest. I rolled my hips in smooth strokes, letting him feel every inch. Calix arched his back, soft moans spilling from his lips. “You like that?” “It feels so good…” He breathed, “Slower… please,” He begged. I slowed down immediately, watching him squirm beneath me. Then his hands grabbed my waist, pulling me harder against him. “Faster,” He pleaded. “Noah, faster—” *** *** *** “I will tell your father you’re a disgusting faggot!” Caught chest-to-chest with Calix Sinclair on his bed, Noah Kensington’s fiancée threatened to ruin him… forcing Noah to chase Calix out into the pouring rain in the middle of the night. Now engaged to Ariana, Noah still can’t stay away. He sends Calix a text, demanding they meet. And what happens next is the same dangerous game all over again— heated touches, desperate kisses, and raw need. And just like before, Noah betrays him the second his fiancée appears. Calix Sinclair is the captain of Northcott University’s hockey team, but when the rink is sold and his scholarship is pulled, he is forced to make a deal with the one man he hates the most: move into Noah’s luxurious estate, become his private training partner, and belong to the Ice King for six months. But behind closed doors, their rivalry explodes into a dark, addictive obsession. Calix swears he’s straight. He swears he hates Noah Kensington. So why does he keep letting the man who destroys him come back for more?

Helen Sinclair walked out of a penthouse with nothing but a bag she'd packed four months before she needed it. No note. No explanation. Just a text — I can't do this anymore — and she left. She had married Alexander Sinclair because her father's company was drowning and the Sinclair name was the only life raft available. Nobody told her that. She figured it out herself, eighteen months too late, sitting on a cold bathroom floor with a positive pregnancy test while her husband's voice carried through the wall on another call that mattered more than she did. So she left. Three years later she is Helen Carter, living in Boston. Small apartment, a plant named Gerald, a job she earned herself. A quiet life entirely hers. She is also fourteen weeks pregnant with a child Alexander doesn't know exists. Then Julian Cross calls. He knows you're in Boston. He's coming himself. Alexander arrives with no team, no lawyers, no plan — which is so unlike him it frightens her. He says he just needed to see she was okay. She almost believes him. Then his eyes drop to her stomach and she watches him understand everything without a single word. What follows is a collision neither of them is prepared for. Alexander, who has never chased anything, now refuses to leave. Helen, who rebuilt herself from nothing, refuses to be pulled back. Julian Cross is realizing he has feelings for the woman his employer never deserved. And Nina Sinclair is about to blow everything open before Helen gets to decide anything herself. This is not a story about a woman who gets rescued. It's about one who makes the man who lost her prove he's worth finding again — on her terms, or not at all.

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?

Susanne Doyle, my wife who's a general manager, often travels to Havenport on business trips. When she comes home, she either has cuts on her mouth or bruises on her thighs. Whenever I ask her about those injuries, she always claims that she accidentally tripped and fell after getting drunk. On our third wedding anniversary, I find out that Susanne has already formed another family in Havenport. At the moment, she's nestling into another man's arms, looking very alluring and seductive. A few of her mentees sit around her and her beau as they start cheering on them. "Now that your fiance has accepted your marriage proposal, does that mean you're about to buy strawberry donuts to celebrate this occasion tonight, Susanne?" The moment I hear the words "marriage proposal", I feel thunderstruck. Susanne begins making out passionately with her new fiance, Stanley Quinn, the next moment. As I watch the loving scene unfold before my eyes, I feel as though my heart has just gotten dunked into icy waters. At the doorway, I happen to bump into Stanley, the very same man who had embraced Susanne earlier. With Susanne's mentees flanking behind him, he drags me into the washroom before punching me in the face. "Who the hell do you think you are? How dare you ogle my fiancee! Are you the one who has been harassing her through text messages? "Here's a warning for you—Susanne is my lover! If I ever see you trying to pull any tricks on her, I'll show you a world of pain!" Stanley then waves a hand. The other mentees begin roughing me up with punches and kicks. "This is just a small warning for you." He doesn't know that I'm Susanne's legal husband, much less the fact that I'm the sole reason behind her ability to snag the position as the general manager.