Those Years Novels & Stories

Three years after I had made my girlfriend, Sophia Lambert, sleep with her superior, she finally went from being his lover to becoming his wife. Meanwhile, I barely made it out alive after years of being undercover in a drug trafficking ring. My body was broken beyond repair, and I had returned home only to wait for death. Sophia arrived with one of her arms wrapped around her husband’s during a charity visit for the poor. When she saw me standing in line for relief aid, she let out a mocking laugh. “Benjamin, how did you end up like this?” I hunched my shoulders. I hid the First-Class Merit Medal for Narcotics Enforcement I had received not long ago. After a long silence, I asked, “Are you happy now?” She twirled the diamond ring on her finger in a lackadaisical manner. “The wedding’s next week. What do you think? “If you want, you can even become a groomsman. Orlando believes in diversity. His groomsmen comprises of different kinds of guys. He’s just missing someone disabled.” I shook my head and turned down her offer. “No, I won’t be able to make it.” The poison in my body had already spread to my heart. I only had a few days left.

They say that the deepest cuts come from the ones you hold closest to your heart. But I never expected my husband to be the one holding the knife while another woman twisted it in deeper.... My name is Ariana Carter. I am deeply in love with my husband Misha, and we have the perfect marriage. Scratch that, HAD the perfect marriage, or so I thought until he changed. His lies and betrayal broke me. Until I woke up. Now it's time for me to retake everything I lost--my life, my career, my family, and my dignity. But I'm getting ahead of myself. Let's start at the beginning, shall we?

On the day of my wedding anniversary, I was cleaning my house when I found a picture album. As it turned out, my husband had been religiously taking pictures with the girl of his dreams every year on this precise date. He had been doing it since he was forty years old and he was now sixty years old. His hair had progressed from a jet black to a faded white and yet, he kept up the tradition. There was a written message in his handwriting at the back of the picture that read, “Eternal Love.” Since he doesn't love me, I will no longer bother washing his clothes and cooking for him. I will no longer care for his children and grandchildren. I may have foolishly wasted half of my life, but it was not too late to make a change.

After Jacob Locke brings up breaking up with me once again, I don't wait for him to say anything else. I pack up my things and move out on my own, then quietly cut ties with our past. On the first day, I cancel the wedding planner I booked three years ago but kept delaying. On the second day, I turn off the automatic payments for his mother's treatment. I also politely refuse his sister when she reaches out for money. On the third day, I accept my superior's transfer proposal and get ready to settle down in a southern city. The moment I board the plane, I suddenly get curious. Without me, the free housekeeper who hasn't taken a break in the past decade and the always-on ATM, how will Jacob fare? How will he care for his paralyzed mother, deal with his vain sister, and face his precious junior who's the apple of his eye?

The night I sleep with Graham Rowland, he has just broken up with his girlfriend, Leanna Sandoval. Out of responsibility, he marries me. Our marriage is calm and steady. I once believe this is forever. But then, Leanna dies of illness. When he goes to mourn her, he learns that Leanna discovered what happened between us that night. That is why she loses hope and leaves him. At the same time, he discovers my secret diary of unrequited love. He becomes convinced that I deliberately destroyed their relationship and comes to hate me deeply. He divorces me, leaves me with nothing, and makes my life difficult at every turn. At the brink of death, I hear him say in an icy voice, "Your love disgusts me." When I open my eyes again, I return to two hours before the fateful event that night—when he is about to get drunk after the breakup. I grab my coat, rush out of the room, and knock on Leanna's door.

I followed an account of a couple that was not very popular but was very sweet. The account recorded every detail of the account owner and her boyfriend. They would argue over a plate of pasta and then look at each other and smile, playfully calling the other person a child at heart. They would hug tightly under the starry sky on a mountain top and say that they wished time could stop at this moment. Although the account owner never showed her face, I was still touched by her captions. The account was updated again the day before I was getting married. [Ten years of love ends here. From now on, he's just her husband, and I'm just her best friend. This account will no longer be updated. I wish my best friend and her beloved man a happy ever after.] The photo showed my fiancé, Josh Clark, and me, taken from behind.

Everyone in Ieplad knows Leopoldo Vece, the Don of the Vece family, loves guns but not women—until me. Ten years into our marriage, my adoptive father, Raffaello Conti, lies dying of kidney failure. Leopoldo launches a global hunt for a donor, sparing no expense to save him. He finds her—a young, fragile woman—and spends millions solving her every problem to ensure she is ready for the transplant. On the day of the surgery, she vanishes. I rush to her home in a panic, only to find my husband holding her gently in his arms, soothing her in a soft voice. "If you're afraid of the pain, don't donate then. I'll find another donor." "Is there time?" she asks quietly. "I heard Lucia's adoptive father is at death's door." Leopoldo brushes his hand over her hair, his voice indulgent. "I'll search the world again if I have to. You're still young; this burden isn't yours to carry." As my heart shatters, my phone rings. I answer numbly. The person on the other end of the line says, "Signora Conti, we regret to inform you that Raffaello Conti just passed away. We waited as long as we could for the donor, but his body gave out five minutes ago." I return to the hospital and handle the funeral arrangements alone. After that, I call Marianna D'Andrea, the Don's mother, and say, "I agree to divorce Leopoldo. Please help me disappear."

Gavin became Alpha right after our mating ceremony. His older brother, Damien—the former Alpha—was dead. Killed by a rival pack from the North. Gavin took his brother's mate, Sarah, and headed north. He claimed he was avenging his brother. He swore he'd expand our territory. He told me the expansion was too dangerous. He didn't want me to get hurt. So I was left behind. Left to rule a dying pack in the south, with only my healing gift to keep us from collapsing. I bled myself for healing serums, all to ensure his northern campaign didn't falter. Every time I sent word asking when our packs would merge, he'd give me an excuse. His position in the North was unstable. They'd just finished a war. It wasn't the right time. Seven years later, the pack couldn't hold on any longer. I sent Leon, my last remaining beta, to find Gavin. Leon’s message back told a different story. Gavin's new pack was already one of the three great powers in the North. And he had a pup with Sarah. A public one. Pain, sharp and swift, lanced through my chest. I marched to the pack elders and demanded they sever our mate bond. Then, I sent a message to the Healers' Guild that had been recruiting me for years: "I'm severing my bond. I'll be packless in three days. Tell the Guild I'm in."

After seven years of marriage, my husband grew tired of our quiet life and took a college student as his mistress. That fragile, pitiable girl held Alain Roth so completely he didn't come home for an entire month, no matter how I begged. On our son's third birthday, I came to their villa, holding the feverish child and pleading for him to return. Inside, he stayed lost in passion with her. Jeff Roth drew his last breath in my arms while their pleasure echoed through the night. At the funeral, Alain held me and wept, swearing he would return to the family and love only me. I agreed, driven solely by Jeff's dying wish. Four years later, a video from his old kindergarten surfaced, showing Alain with a radiant Mabel Flores and a three-year-old boy. The boy smiled brightly at the camera, lifting a trophy high. "Mom, Dad, we're the happiest family in the world!"

My body drifted in the river for five years before a fishing enthusiast reeled it in. Even though the forensic pathologist managed to reconstruct my face from when I was alive through craniofacial reconstruction technology, the hatred my brother had for me remained as strong as ever. "That better be her body! She has been on the run for five years! Even in death, she doesn't deserve pity! In fact, it simply is a disgrace to have a murderer like her as the daughter of the Clarke family!" he hissed. Everyone thought he despised me with every fiber of his being. Yet, as he spoke, his entire body trembled. Who would have guessed that the distress call I made to him five years ago would end up becoming the main factor that hastened my death?