The Enigma Of A Day

My mother-in-law’s final wish was simple—she wanted one last trip to Hawaii, to bask in the warmth of the sun before her time ran out. But her son, Vincent, didn’t see it that way. He thought I was manipulating her, using her as an excuse to drag him on a vacation he didn’t want. So, out of spite, he refused to grant her dying wish. I begged him. Pleaded. Swallowed my pride and all the hurt his accusations brought. After relentless persuasion, he finally relented. I thought, at last, I could give Lucy the happiness she deserved. But on the day we were set to leave, Vincent was nowhere to be found. And that same day, Lucy suffered a heart attack. She passed away with only me by her side—never getting to feel the warmth of the sun on her skin one last time. And then I saw it. A picture. Vincent, tagged at a luxury resort with his ex. The caption from her read: Thank you for abandoning your job to take me on this trip. You’re the best. I didn’t scream. I didn’t cry. I didn’t even confront him. I just packed my bags and left. And this time? Vincent found out about the truth and begged me to stay.

On the day of the SAT exam, my girlfriend’s childhood friend, Benedict Casper, forgot his admission ticket at home. She insisted on retrieving it for him, but I begged her not to go. In the end, Benedict missed his final chance for taking the exam and, overwhelmed by despair, he jumped to his death. Years later, my girlfriend, Ella Simpson, and I graduated from Whitmore Institute of Technology, landed high-paying jobs, and built a picture-perfect marriage. But on the anniversary of Benedict’s death, she stabbed me repeatedly, her voice trembling with rage, “You killed him. If I’d gotten his admission ticket, he would’ve never jumped.” When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day of the exams. Ella’s frantic voice rang in my ears, “I have to go back, Dominic. I need to get Benedict’s ticket!” This time, I smiled and said, “Go ahead. Be careful on the way.”

The entertainment world is no stranger to Keitha Patric, a senior manager at Paris-based entertainment company Tristar. She has always represented the company to deal with scandals caused by famous actors she manages, but this time the incident was so out of Keitha's control that the production manager himself had to convene a staff meeting a few hours later. Keitha was then assigned to work with Laetus Allision, a new creative director of Tristar to solve the ongoing problem. But when it comes to solving problems, both Keitha and Laetus simultaneously realize that behind them there is another competitor who is deliberately trying to cause trouble for the company.

In my sixth year with Nathan Bennett. "Nathan, I'm getting married," I said. He jolted, suddenly snapping back to reality, looking somewhat troubled. "Hannah, you know the company is at a crucial point with our financing. I'm not in the mood to..." “It’s okay,” I replied, my smile calm and composed. Nathan misunderstood. I was getting married, but not to him.

My marriage to Lucian Hawke was hailed as the most perfect union in the mafia world. As the daughter of the Sinclair family and him being the sole heir of the Hawke family, our marriage united the two most powerful mafia families in the Northeastern. I thought we were unbreakable. Then, I was diagnosed with terminal cancer. As if life couldn’t get any worse, my husband's first love returned—on the very same day. That night, the man I’d been married to for years didn’t come home. The next morning, his voice was cold, distant. Indifferent. “I’ve got the divorce papers ready. When can you come sign them?” I hesitated, struggling to steady my voice. “I’m still at the hospital.” He didn’t even pause. “I don’t care if you're on your deathbed, Elara. Come home and sign the goddamn papers.” My heart shattered, but I refused to let it show. “As you wish, Lucian.” What he didn’t know was that I was dying—literally. A week later, at my funeral, Lucian wearing a tuxedo, weeping at my grave, whispering regrets he should have voiced when I was still breathing. Ironically, my funeral day, was also his wedding day with his sweetheart. But it was too late, my love. This time, you’ll never see me again.

Si Ruby ay isang babaeng nagmula sa 21'st Century na isang araw ay nagising nalang sa taong 1864 sa katauhan ni Luna, ang nag-iisang anak ng isa sa pinakamayang pamilya sa Candaba,Pampanga sa panahon na iyon. Nung una, akala niya ay nasa ibang mundo lamang siya. Naniniwala kasi siyang 'Parallel World" exist. Ngunit nalaman niyang hindi siya napunta sa ibang mundo sa halip ay nagbalik lamang siya sa nakaraan niyang buhay upang baguhin ang malasimuot nitong kasaysayan. Magagawa niya bang baguhin ito? O mabibigyang katotohanan ang sinasabi nilang 'history repeats itself' ?

Our cruise ship got into an accident, but there was only one seat left on the lifeboat. The three of us drew lots, and I got it. I wanted to give Zac Xavier the chance of survival that I won. However, while we were arguing, his childhood sweetheart got on the lifeboat first. Just as we thought our lives would end, the rescue team arrived in time and brought us back from the boundless deep sea. After that incident, Zac and I walked down the aisle. Unexpectedly, his childhood sweetheart returned to that sea on our wedding day and jumped into it. When Zac got the news of her death, he was struck by grief and blamed everything on me. He imprisoned the pregnant me in the basement and made my life a torture. I bled profusely on the day I gave birth. He had the doctor save the baby, asking him to give up on my life. My only child was named Rory, something he thought up based on the name of his childhood sweetheart—Aurora. Even when I died, I was consumed by hatred. When I reopened my eyes, I had returned to the day he proposed to me after the cruise ship accident. Watching Zac hold my hand as he had done in my past life and promise to grant my every wish, I calmly withdrew my hand. "Zac, let's break up."

On the day I was declared pregnant, I ran into my husband in the ob-gyn. He was with his long-lost love for a prenatal checkup. "I'm not going home tonight. As you can see, I have business to attend to," Lawrence said quietly as he left with an arm wrapped around Melissa. I fell silent and booked an abortion surgery. Everyone around us thought I was a simp for Lawrence. They thought I wouldn't leave, no matter how badly he mistreated me. He had the same thought. No one knew that I only married him to repay a debt. That debt was now repaid. Ten years was up, and I could finally end this abominable marriage.

After eight years together, I took a hit for my surgeon boyfriend. Milton Woodard vowed I could ask for anything. Everyone assumed I'd seize the chance to propose, locking him down for good. Instead, I looked him in the eye and said, "Let's break up." Then I walked away without a backward glance. Milton smirked, betting with his buddies that I'd come crawling back in under three days, calling me a desperate lapdog chasing his attention. He was dead wrong because I'd been reborn. In my last life, I proposed to him and won. Overwhelmed by the news, his first love threw herself off a rooftop and killed herself. Milton unleashed his grief-fueled rage on me. On our wedding night, he slashed my face and locked me in a dank, claustrophobic basement. When I got pregnant, he force-fed me supplements until the baby grew too big for me to deliver. I hemorrhaged, torn apart, and died in agony on the birthing table. Now, reborn on the day I saved his life, I was done playing his fool.

-COMPLETED-A girl with a severe illness wanted to end her life immediately until he met the guy who has a playboy ambiance. Little did she know she's slowly falling in love with this boy that made her hope and wish for more days to live.