Novel & Cerita The Perfect Pov

When my mother asked me who I wanted to marry, this time, I chose none of them. Instead, I decided to go to the Northwest and serve my country. In my previous life, both my childhood friend, once a captain, and my educated fiancé courted me. I had feelings for both. But while I was still struggling to decide who I wanted as my husband, both accidentally ingested something. In a dazed state, I spent a chaotic night. After that, my parents asked one of the men to marry me. On the wedding day, the first love in both their hearts, the woman they had always truly loved, found out the truth. Out of spite, she accepted a local thug’s proposal. After marrying him, she was forced to give birth to ten children, one after another, until she died tragically. After her death, both men grabbed me by the throat and asked, “Why did she have to die such a miserable death, while you’re still alive and well?” They strangled me to death. When I opened my eyes again, I was back to the day when my childhood friend and my fiancé had been drugged.

When His Majesty King Dominic Thornfield was attacked, my husband, Roland Wentworth, Commander of the Royal Guard, was busy placating his first love, Vivian Sinclair, who had stormed off in a fit of anger. I did not light the signal flare in my hand. Instead, I used my heavily pregnant body as a human shield to protect the King and help him escape. In my past life, I had lit that flare. Roland abandoned Vivian to rush back and save the King. He was rewarded for his loyal service by being made a Duke Protector. However, Vivian fell into a trap and died on the spot. On the surface, Roland said nothing. Yet, on the very day I went into labor, he threw me into the Beast Dungeon. My face twisted in agony as I demanded to know why. Roland merely glanced at me coldly and said, "His Majesty had plenty of guards around him, so why did it have to be me who came back? You must have done it on purpose, only caring about power and wealth. If you hadn't lit that flare, Vivian wouldn't have died. Whatever suffering Vivian endured, I'll make you pay it back tenfold!" In the end, I was torn apart and devoured by the beasts. Even the child in my womb was consumed completely. When I opened my eyes again, I had returned to the day the King was attacked.

I had always been naturally celibate. Yet somehow, I still ended up chemically castrating myself. It was all because, in my previous life, my wife's precious idealized lover, a libidinous playboy, went viral as a pickup artist and dumped every side effect of his indulgent lifestyle onto me. He spent nights partying in hotel rooms with groups of women while I collapsed from kidney failure and was rushed to the ER. He lounged in clubs with women in both arms, downing bottle after bottle, while I went into an allergic shock and nearly died. I confronted my wife about it, but she shoved me away impatiently. "Shane already told me nothing happened with those women! You're just jealous and faking illness to slander him!" However, the playboy's actions only escalated. Chasing bigger thrills, he even started getting involved with men in drag. Thanks to him, I caught an STD, which pushed my wife to demand a divorce. I went to the hospital for treatment, but the doctors could not find the cause. Instead, they tossed me straight into an addiction rehab program. Later, for the sake of boosting his live stream numbers, the playboy went wild in Southwind Asira's nightlife scene. After he spent an entire night drowning in pleasure, I, drained past my limit, collapsed and died on the spot. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the very day he began his online hunt.

After the college entrance exams, my parents left me at home and took their adopted daughter on a trip to the beach. A typhoon hit, and the three of them never came back. When the news reached me, I did not cry or throw a tantrum. I had their deaths registered right away and pulled out the life insurance I had bought in advance. I received one hundred million in compensation. My fiance scolded me for caring only about money. What he did not know was that I had been reborn. In my past life, after I learned about their deaths, the huge debts they had left behind fell on me. I gave up the chance to go to college and started working to pay everything back. I fought to protect our ancestral home from debt collectors. My fiance stayed with me and cheered me on when I came home late at night from delivery runs. But he never gave me a single cent to help. At thirty-five, I finally cleared every debt. On my birthday, I bought myself a ten-dollar cake to celebrate. Just as I was about to blow out the candle, the door opened. My parents and their adopted daughter, who should have died in the typhoon, walked in dressed in designer clothes. They smiled at me smugly. “Well done! We can finally believe that you aren’t greedy for money. You’ve passed the test. From today, you are qualified to be the daughter of the Jameson family.” “Jane, this brilliant idea was all thanks to you.” My adopted sister smiled. She leaned close and blew out my candle. The only light left in my twenty years of lifetime went out with it. My body gave in to exhaustion. My heart failed. I collapsed and died on the spot. When I opened my eyes again, they were about to head to the beach in the middle of the typhoon. I bought a massive accident insurance policy for them on the spot. This time, all I wanted was for them to disappear from this world forever.

When my parents got old, they needed someone to take care of them. Katerina—my younger sister—was off to Amiraka with her smug husband Chris. Meanwhile, I was crammed into a two-bedroom in Bellavaro with my husband Pavel, who drove a taxi. Mom had no retirement savings, so guess who she dumped herself on? Yep—me. Dad took the cash and ran straight to Katerina. Our place was tiny, but we still gave Mom the master bedroom. She hated it. Constant complaints, constant drama. According to her, life with me was pure misery. Every night, she'd hop on video call with Katerina, gushing about Amiraka like it was heaven, while throwing shade at me for not "taking care of her properly." Meanwhile, I was drowning—trying to hold it together for Mom, help my daughter prep for exams, support a husband with spine problems, and check in on aging in-laws. Mom didn't care. She wanted a plane ticket to Amiraka to party for Katerina's birthday. I snapped. We had a blowout fight, and she collapsed—brain hemorrhage. Even in her hospital bed, she stared me down, whining Katerina's name like a broken record. Then she spat out, "I should've never picked a useless daughter like you!" My chest cracked in half. I blacked out. When I woke up—I was ten years younger. Back to the day they decided who'd get stuck taking care of them. This time, Mom didn't wait. "I want Katerina to take care of me. It's my turn to enjoy life!"

On my way to work, I came across a livestream from an influencer who posted about her relationship, tagged at my company’s location. She was talking about her office romance with the CEO of a major corporation. But wasn’t the CEO of her company my husband? I clicked on her profile and saw that it was full of wedding-prep posts. The man never showed his face, but his build looked almost exactly like my husband’s. So I left a comment in the livestream: “I heard the CEO of Gibson Corporation has been married for a long time. So what does that make you...?” The streamer muted me, then instantly burst into tears. “The internet isn’t lawless. If you keep spreading rumors and calling me a mistress, I’m calling the police.” Her fans immediately swarmed me. “You’re probably the other woman yourself. That’s why your mind went there.” “I checked her profile. She’s some woman in her thirties. She’s obviously jealous because the streamer is young, pretty, and has a rich, powerful boyfriend who dotes on her.” “The account’s brand new. She’s obviously just a troll.” I tried to say more, only to realize I had already been kicked out of the livestream, and my account had been reported until I couldn’t even log back in. I stared at the proof of our marriage in the drawer for a long moment. Then I raised my hand and smacked my sleeping husband awake. “Exactly how many wives are you planning to have?”

My husband, James Zeller, and I have established a common-law marriage. We did not have a formal wedding ceremony, nor do we have a marriage license. We also live separately, our lives barely intertwining, because he has a special profession. Therefore, despite being married to him for seven years, we've never met each other's friends and relatives. As his wife, I'm proud of being married to him despite how it pains me. I'm willing to give up the opportunity to study at the National Academy of Sciences to take care of things at home while he works. One day, my son, Jasper Chalder, comes home from elementary school crying. He sobs about not being a bastard child and requests to see James. Greatly distressed, I decide to take him to visit the military base over the new year for a family reunion. However, I don't expect this trip to turn my life completely upside down.

The holidays are almost here, and yet I've chosen to burn down the mushroom greenhouse, which has generated millions of profits that can sustain my family's livelihood. As I stare at the blazing inferno, my heart is as calm as a still lake. In my previous life, I had a grand haul of mushrooms after devoting my blood, sweat, and tears into cultivating throughout the year. When I was about to sell them, Sarah Clarkson, my husband's childhood friend, came knocking on my doorstep. Apparently, she wanted to get about 30 pounds' worth of mushrooms so that she could give them away as holiday gifts. Having taken her relationship with my husband, Dominic Kane, into consideration, I didn't hesitate to pack up the mushrooms and give them to Sarah. Little did I know that I'd receive the news of her getting poisoned the next day. Not only that, but Sarah even started a live stream and started berating me for selling the mushrooms. "I've already consulted the fungi experts, Hazel! Apparently, the mushrooms you've given me contain lethal poison! "Thank goodness I'm the one who found out about this! If not, I can't imagine just how many people would've been poisoned by your mushrooms once they got out!" I tried to defend myself, but Dominic was quick to produce the so-called solid evidence. "I thought you were just joking about wanting to plant cheap, poisonous mushrooms. I didn't think you'd stick to your word!" At that moment, the viewers lashed out at me so much that I went viral. Later on, I got forcibly taken away by the police so that they could proceed with the investigation. The results completely stunned me. It turned out that the mushrooms I had spent so long cultivating were actually poisonous! After leaving the police department, I found out that all of my savings were already siphoned by Dominic, who then used it to pay off Sarah's medical bills. He also filed for a divorce, stating that I was a woman with poor character. Left with nothing under my name, I was completely dazed and delirious. In the end, I collapsed and died on the street. When I open my eyes, I've returned to the day before the grand mushroom haul. That's when I decide to torch all the mushrooms. But this time, Sarah still gets poisoned for some reason.

On the day before New Year's Eve, I didn't shut the window all the way, and my little sister sneezed. My parents kicked me out and ordered me to collect firewood in the dark. Inside, the family crowded around her, laughing as they handed her presents. I didn't cry or make a scene. Instead, I slung the basket onto my back before heading into the mountains through the wind and snow. I didn't find any firewood. I found a man instead. His leg was wedged in a crack between rocks, bloody enough to scare me. When he saw me, he said in a hoarse voice, "Get me out of here, girl. I can give you whatever you want." I looked up at him, my eyes finally focusing. "Really? Then I want you to be my dad."

There's an earthquake. My husband, the captain of the rescue team, abandons me to save Wendy Smith, his true love. I don't stop him. I let him go. Why? Because when he was faced with the same choice in my past life, he saved me because I was eight months pregnant. Meanwhile, Wendy remained trapped under the rubble. She ultimately died due to a lack of oxygen after the delayed rescue. Later, on the day I went into labor, my husband brought me to Wendy's grave. He watched me coldly as I collapsed on the ground from the searing pain. He ignored my pleas. "Does it hurt, Yelena? Wendy's pain was a thousand times worse when she was trapped under the rubble!" I stared at him in disbelief as he descended into insanity. "You were safe that night—you were in the safe triangle zone! Wendy would never have missed the best time for rescue if not for you using your pregnancy to threaten me! I want you to experience all the pain she went through!" He forced me down on my knees and bumped my head on the ground before Wendy's grave. He ignored the blood that flowed down my legs. Ultimately, I died after major blood loss from a difficult labor. When I open my eyes again, I'm back to the day the earthquake happened. This time, neither I nor my child will wait for him.