The Perfect Pov Novels & Stories

In the Pediatric Intensive Care Unit, a sudden power outage occurred. As the doctor on night duty, I remained calm and didn't panic, nor did I call for help. I calmly waited as the temperatures of the incubators where the babies lay slowly dropped... In my previous life, when the pediatric department lost power, I immediately switched to the backup power sources to ensure the children's safety. After doing everything I was supposed to do, I sat down to take a breather and took a sip of water. Suddenly, my coworkers rushed in, waking me up. "Dr. Luther, you're a healthcare staff, how could you kill those children?!" "You froze them to death! How vicious! You'll pay for this!" Only then did I realize that all the children had died, without exception. The police took me away. They said I was the only one in the room and they found my fingerprints on the thermostat. My son then produced a video to assist in the investigation. "She often complained about the patients being a bother and hoped they would all die." Enraged family members cornered me in an alley and tortured me for ten hours until I died. But until my last breath, I couldn't understand how the children could have frozen to death in a thermostatically-controlled environment. And why did my own son provide a fake video to frame me? Suddenly, I jolted awake. I found myself waking up on the day of the power outage.

The new junior researcher in our lab destroyed my antigen. Because of that, I could not submit my thesis. I lost my chance to study abroad. Three years of work gone, just like that. I was furious. I wanted to call the police, to have it investigated, to make sure she was held responsible. However, my fiancé stood in front of her, shielding her, and turned on me instead. "It's just a small experiment," he said. "Is it really worth making such a big deal out of it?" I nodded. "Of course," I said calmly. "After all, it was only an antigen that could treat your lupus. Definitely not worth making a fuss over." He froze on the spot.

On our wedding anniversary, I did not say a word to my husband. I simply booked a plane ticket and left town on a business trip with my supervisor. He grabbed my arm, anger blazing in his eyes. "It's our anniversary, and you're spending it with someone else? Have you lost your mind?" I frowned, impatient, and shook him off. Without another glance, I got into the car heading for the airport. In my previous life, everything had started with his so-called first love. After multiple abortions, her uterine lining had become too thin for her to ever carry a child. So, she stole one. When the child's parents tried to take their baby back, she hit the gas, knocking them to the ground and killing them. However, when the truth came out, the police arrested me. I protested my innocence. I appealed. I even demanded a public trial. In response, they produced dashcam footage that clearly showed me abducting the child and running down the parents. To make matters worse, my fingerprints were found inside the car. I was completely shattered. Convicted on the spot, I was sentenced to death. My parents, unable to bear the shock, both fell ill and passed away soon after. After my death, my husband remarried in grand fashion, with his beloved 'first love' by his side. Together, they even adopted the very stolen child, becoming a couple everyone praised as perfect. Only then did I understand. It had all been their scheme. When I opened my eyes again, I found myself back on the day it all began.

As per my father’s offer, I decided to leave both my son and husband behind and go back home where I would become his little girl again. That decision came after I heard my family’s true thoughts following my surgery. My husband thought, “It was just a minor issue! Why did she stay in the hospital for so long? She’s back and has yet to do any chores. Can’t she see that my suit needs ironing?” My son thought, “She spent so much money on that surgery, and now she’s even drinking my favorite yogurt! Why can’t she be a successful businesswoman like Sarah? All she does is stay in the house and act like a freeloader!” My mother-in-law thought, “She had to come back right when I’m making chicken soup, of all times! She can just drink the dishwater for all I care.” Feeling utterly disappointed, I turned around and closed the door. Then I called my father. “Yes, it’s just me. I’m not bringing anyone.”

The wife of the richest man, Andre Walker, in town needs blood desperately after suffering from complications in childbirth. Upon realizing that she has a rare blood type, which I share, I don't hesitate to lend her a helping hand. In order to thank me properly, Andrew decides to gift me a villa located in the heart of the city as well as 30 million dollars in cash. My roommate, Vera Hawthorn, who always rides the high horse of morality, is pissed off when she finds out about the rewards. "Your blood is a part of your body! What's the difference between you selling your blood and selling your body? I can't imagine just how filthy and disgusting you are right now! "That man already has a wife, and yet you still throw yourself at him! You're no different from a homewrecker!" In my previous life, I was filled with shame after hearing Vera's brainwashing reasoning. Not only did I turn down Andre's rewards, but I also cut off all ties with all men in my life. Since then, I never attended any classes conducted by male lecturers, which resulted in me flunking many subjects even though I was about to graduate. So, the head of my department decided to delay my graduation. Left without a choice, I begged Vera to help tutor me in my studies, only for her to post my desperate visage on the Internet. "What an idiot! Independent women must solve every hardship they come across in this era! Don't you feel ashamed for asking me for help? "I can't believe you failed this many subjects! If I were you, I'd just kill myself!" The video went viral on the Internet. My desperate expression was made into a meme, which circulated around the Internet like crazy. Meanwhile, Vera became a famous influencer because of this incident. That night, I suffered from a mental breakdown and took my own life by overdosing on pills. When I open my eyes again, I've returned to the day I'm about to donate my blood.

Just because I refused to help my nephew, Albert Wesley, pay for his wedding, my very own sister took me to court. When my sister, Jocelyn Guthrie, appeared in court, she wept as she spoke. "I worked myself to the bone, taking every job I could find just to support your college education. I endured endless humiliation, and it even ruined my health." "You have an annual income of a million dollars, yet you won't even spare a fraction to help me! You're even talking about cutting ties with me? Do you even have a conscience?" Seeing me sitting in the defendant's seat, unmoved, she trembled as she revealed the grotesque scars covering her body, even pulling out a disability certificate. "I was even injured because of you. I was struck by a falling object at a construction site, leaving my leg permanently disabled. Now... I can't support my son anymore, so I'm asking you to repay the tuition. Isn't that the least you should do?" My mother, Samantha Lawrence, and my brother, Andrew Guthrie, nodded along, backing Jocelyn up, condemning me for my ingratitude. The entire courtroom erupted in anger, voices rising against me. "What a monster! Her education has gone to the dogs!" "Don't insult dogs! She's even worse than an animal!" "Three hundred thousand dollars is too little! Your Honor, she must repay it with interest!" Watching their righteous fury, I could only feel a bitter sense of irony. She claimed she had sacrificed everything to put me through four years of university. But the truth was... I had never even been to college at all.

The company had been losing money for two consecutive years. That year, with our biggest client suddenly going out of business, we lost nearly ten million dollars in receivables. On New Year's Eve, I sent out a company-wide apology email after much deliberation. The email stated, "At this moment, I regret to inform that we can only increase each employee's monthly salary by 20 dollars this year." An intern named Ingrid Little took a screenshot of the email and posted it online. In no time, her post started trending. The entire internet criticized me for being fake and pretending to be poor. They said that my shameless act was a blatant insult to my employees' hard work. "20 dollars doesn't even cover commuting!" "Why hasn't this garbage company gone under yet?" Ingrid replied to each comment with the same line: "I don't care about the money. I just feel insulted. I'm quitting tomorrow." The next day, I walked into the office with bloodshot eyes and turned on the company-wide broadcast. I announced, "Since some people believe I've insulted their dignity, you may submit your resignation immediately. However, you will no longer be entitled to the year-end bonus of 20 thousand dollars." Everyone gasped in disbelief. Ingrid turned completely pale, and some workers even rushed into my office impulsively. "Boss, this has nothing to do with me! I stand with the company!" After all, my company had increased salaries for 37 consecutive years and given an average raise of over 2,000 dollars each time. They wouldn't find a company like mine elsewhere.

Jason Schwartz had been a close friend of my father's, despite the age gap. The year I met him, I was fearless, the kind of girl who thought nothing could touch her. I bit down hard on the hand he offered me. Jason just laughed. "You're adorable," he said. "Like a little wolf." On my 18th birthday, he shoved me onto the bed, his eyes red, as if he had been holding back for years. "Diana, I've finally waited long enough for you to grow up." He was the one who pulled me into that first flutter of desire, the one who led me across every line I wasn't supposed to cross. I grew into exactly the kind of girl he wanted. The day my father was hacked to death by his enemies, Jason took my hand and stepped into his place without hesitation. When I was pregnant, he brought home a girl covered in blood. "Diana, she's not like you. She's like wild grass, tough and stubborn." He said he admired wild grass. But he forgot something. He was the one who raised me into a rose that only knew the shelter of a greenhouse. Good thing I didn't need him anymore.

I've been engaged to my boyfriend, Evan Shaw, for five years. He's a military commander, which is probably why he has delayed our wedding 56 times so far. The first delay has occurred because one of his female soldiers, Chloe Brooks, has gotten injured. Evan needs to rush back to the military camp due to the incident, which causes the wedding to be delayed. The second delay has occurred because Chloe has received a promotion. After sending me to the church's entrance, Evan quickly leaves with the celebratory gifts. … The 56th delay has occurred halfway throughout the ceremony. Apparently, Chloe has called Evans on the phone and crying about her break-up. Of course, Evan gets ready to ditch me at the altar without hesitation. I've begged him to not leave me, only for him to remove my hand coldly. "We can always delay the wedding. The thing is, Chloe wants to jump off a building right now because she's gotten her heart broken. How could you ever compare the importance of your wedding to the life of a nation's pride?" Evan has told me before that if I want to become a military wife, I need to have a higher endurance limit than others. I need to get used to the fact that he prioritizes others before me. But I've never even had a proper wedding of my own. How can I be considered a military wife just yet? So, I submit an application that makes me a covert operative that needs to be transferred back into the government's ranks. But after I've left, Evan breaks down in tears. With the wedding ring in hand, he tries to make it up to me by promising to complete the unfinished wedding ceremony with me.

The new reporter intern deliberately falsified the situation at the fire scene to secure a full-time position and create a headline. Because of her, firefighters who rushed in to fight the fire and nearly a thousand company employees were killed in an explosion. There were no bodies left to salvage. My husband, who was also my superior, gave false testimony for her sake and claimed I was the one who had made the decision. I lost my job, and everyone cursed me, telling me to die. On the day of the trial, a grieving family member of one of the victims threw a bottle of acid at me. I died in unbearable pain as the acid ate me alive. Meanwhile, my husband was busy comforting the intern. "Don't be afraid. She deserved this." When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day she made that false coverage.