The Ceiling Can't Hold Us Song

For my birthday, my husband, Don Damien, gave me his dead wife’s pearls. I wore them to the dinner party. My enraged stepson, Leo, doused me in red wine. I became the laughingstock of the party. “You whore,” he hissed. “You think wearing my mother’s jewelry makes you her?” He stared at me, his eyes cold as ice. Then he screamed. "Get out of my house." But his mother died when he was a baby. I raised him. Someone had whispered poison in his ear. They told him I was the one who killed his mother. Now he thinks I'm a scheming bitch who tricked his father. And his father? My husband? He never saw me. He only saw Krista’s ghost. My heart didn't break. It shattered. They didn't love me. They didn't even care. So I walked. Then why, after I was finally gone, did they come crawling back, begging me to return?

Post - Apocalyptic Horror | Action | Yuri Harem | 18+ | Rated R | Mature Content | Slow Pace It started with a kiss I don’t remember giving. A rooftop. A moan. Someone’s fingers buried in my hair like they belonged there. A mouth on my throat that said I tasted like something they lost in another life. I wasn’t dreaming. The city was already cracking beneath me. Power grids flickering like dying stars. Tech failing. Screens static. The sky bruising in strange new colors. Everyone said it was coincidence. Collapse. Noise. But I knew better. The moment I felt her breath on my skin — even if I couldn’t see her — I knew the end had already arrived. And I had something to do with it. Ten butterflies followed me after that. Not literal ones. Not always. They shimmered in my periphery. Each the wrong color. Each too vivid. Each drawn to me like heat to blood. They touched me in dreams. They watched me when I undressed. They whispered without words. I could taste their want. Some called me cursed. Broken. Unstable. But the truth is simpler. I’m blooming again — and they all feel it. They don’t love me. They remember me. They remember what I used to be — what I still am, underneath the silence. One of them burned me with just a kiss. One broke my spine with kindness. One slid her hand under my shirt like it was always hers. One cries when she touches me. One never speaks, but her eyes dig. One wants to keep me. One wants to ruin me. And one just wants to finish what we started. They think I’m choosing. I’m not. My body already did. And now the bloom inside me is turning darker.

Ten years ago, I lost my sight saving Ivan Hardman. Now, a decade later, Ivan lets his mistress live under the same roof as me. Every night, he coaxes me to sleep in the first half, only to spend the rest tangled up with her. Even my son secretly calls her "Mom." What they don't know is, I've regained my sight. And I'm planning my escape.

Charlotte had done everything in her power to make Milton love her. For three years, she had showered him with love and was the perfect housewife, even giving up her identity as the lost daughter of the Buchanan family. However, on their third anniversary and her birthday, he slammed a divorce paper on her face. “Your sister has woken up from her coma. You were nothing but a replacement for her. Don’t think that I don’t know of your plans of hurting her three years ago and taking her fiance from her? Hurry and sign the divorce papers before she gets discharged.” Milton said, coldly. Charlotte, shocked and hurt by Milton's accusations, tried to explain herself, but he was not willing to listen. At that moment, she realized that all her efforts had been for nothing. She had been nothing but a murderer and a replacement in Milton's eyes. In a bold decision, She embraced her identity as the only daughter of the Buchanan family. Her days of being a submissive housewife were over. As the truth about her past and the events that led to her foster sister's coma began to unravel, Milton Henderson found himself captivated by this new Charlotte—the one who stood before him with her head held high, declaring, You Shouldn't Have Doubted Me, Mr. Henderson. Hurry up and leave before my brothers return.”

Valeria ran from an arranged marriage and solved the problem as quickly as possible; she married someone else. No photos, no meeting, no romance. Just signatures and a promise to finally meet face-to-face. New residence, new name, and a new job. Except her “new job” turns out to be working as the executive assistant to Ivan Crest. Young, devastatingly handsome CEO, newly married, and entirely too pleased about it. He hires her on the spot, clears his schedule for a mysterious date with his wife, and won’t stop smiling at his phone. What he doesn’t know? Valeria is also counting down the hours to meet her husband for the first time. And what neither of them realizes? They’re texting each other. When Ivan offers her a ride home at the end of the day, she agrees, unaware that he’s heading to meet his wife… on her street. One car, two newlyweds, zero clues. And when the message comes in 

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