Thoughtful 소설 & 이야기

I had a fever, so I boiled myself an egg. I didn’t expect my son to come home and call the police. “There’s a thief in our house,” he told them, dead serious. “She stole one of my eggs.” The officers thought it was a joke. Evan didn’t. “Ms. Blake gave me those eggs. They’re imported. She stole from me, so she should be arrested.” Then he looked at me like I was a stranger. “Mom’s just lazy. She’s pretending to be sick. No wonder Dad likes spending time with Ms. Blake.” I bit down hard to keep from crying. It didn’t help. To him, my silence was proof I was guilty. “Ms. Blake said people who do bad things always act pitiful,” he added coldly. When my husband got home, he didn’t even ask how I was. “You sit around all day and still say you’re sick? Sounds like you just have too much time to be dramatic. If you were half as thoughtful as Sophie, I wouldn’t be this exhausted.” I almost laughed. When I had a 102-degree fever, he said the clinic was too expensive. But when his secretary mentioned her villa felt a little cold, he signed a thirty-million-dollar contract without hesitation. He was never stingy. Just never with me. That was the moment I stopped caring. That night, I stared at the message my father had sent me. And made a decision. Tomorrow, I was going home, not as his wife, not as anyone’s mother, but as the heiress I had always been.

You can call her Cindy or Elle, well her name depends on the town she's living in. Her real name's Leira Mint Salcedo, the girl who wants to die. Or at least that's what she always says and thinks about. Until at her fourth suicide attempt, an intruder named Chris suddenly came to her, asking for help. Soon as she opened her glass door, it felt like she welcomed him in her life. Crisostomo "Chris" Ychavez, a self-proclaimed man of his words who intervenes with Leira's fourth suicide attempt. He is kind, thoughtful, and a very understanding man who would want to help Leira to appreciate the beauty of life and making things right. Chris and Leira's uncanny encounters continued. They always meet accidentally. When she needs help, when she's afraid, when she's alone, even if she doesn't want Chris' presence, he is mysteriously, always there. After Leira runs away from her best friend, she is now jobless and renting at Lumiere Town. Without a job, she's on the verge of becoming homeless until Chris proposes something to her. Chris wants to travel to the Disney Republic and so she proposed to Leira to travel together. All expenses are shouldered by Chris, all he is asking is for Leira to come and join him. Left without a choice, she agreed. And so, they traveled the country together, met a lot of people, discovered some truths and lies, and the reason behind Chris' kindness towards Leira. Time is ticking for Chris and Leira is still thinking about her own death. Will Chris be able to save her after she finds out who he really is in her life, or it will gonna be a reason for her to continue her final suicide plan?

After five years of marriage, the doctor told me I was pregnant. It was something I had waited for so long. Yet, along with that good news came a nightmare. My medical tests showed that I had cancer, and it had already spread. The doctor gave me less than a month to live. I froze, gripping the report so tightly my knuckles turned white. Tears streamed down my face as I thought about how my unborn child would never get to feel a mother's embrace. My grief was interrupted by the ping of an incoming text message. It was from Mom. [Since you're so selfish and refuse to donate a kidney to save Nattie's life, you should divorce Davon. Let him marry Nattie instead. At least that way, you can fulfill her dying wish.] My tears fell harder. It was not that I refused to donate a kidney to Natalie Rivera, my sister, who was in the final stages of kidney disease. In truth, I only had one kidney left. Five years ago, I had already given one to Dad. Now, with my life counting down to its final days, I decided that I would donate my remaining kidney to Natalie. I would also let my husband, Davon Parker, go with her. Before I went into surgery, my parents praised me for finally being thoughtful, saying I had finally learned to care about my sister. They said that once the surgery was over, the whole family would go on vacation together. Davon even said he was proud that I was no longer selfish and promised he would make it up to me in the future. None of them knew I did not have a future. After the surgery, what would be pushed out of the operating room would be a cold, lifeless body.

I had spent my whole life living in the shadow of my sister, Juliana, the woman everyone in the mafia's heir circle adored and protected. She had no idea that I had been reborn. Just like in my previous life, she smiled sweetly and gently, insisting that I pick my fiancé first, pretending to be thoughtful and gracious. However, this time, I refused. In my previous life, I naïvely believed she meant well. I married the man she recommended, Chester Kane, an heir who was said to have been paralyzed after an ambush. I gave up my right to inherit the family, becoming his caretaker, his crutch, the medicine he used to fight loneliness. However, no matter how much warmth I gave him, his heart remained frozen. The truth only came out during my sister's pregnancy celebration. When an assassin from a rival family raised his gun toward her belly, the man who had not stood in years suddenly rose to his feet. He shoved me toward the muzzle of the gun. All seven bullets tore into my womb. As I collapsed, I saw him pull my sister into his arms, shielding her with his own body and taking the final shot for her. Only then did I understand. He had never been paralyzed. His family had never abandoned him. He pretended to be sick because Juliana's heart belonged to another man, and he refused to be tied to me. "I'm sorry, Tania," he said. "I lied to you. However, I couldn't let Juliana lose the heir she's carrying. I'll repay what I owe you in our next life." When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day my father asked us to choose our marriage partners. This time, I chose no one. Yet back then, they were the ones who begged for my love.

On Christmas Eve, my father got the man I had secretly loved for ten years drunk and sent him to my bed. When I woke up the next morning, Roy pulled away from my attempt at a good-morning kiss. His voice was cold and distant as he agreed to marry me. After the wedding, Roy wasted no time submitting a transfer request. He took an overseas post and left. He did not return for five years. I gave birth to our daughter, Eve, alone and waited for him to come back home. When I heard that Roy had finally applied to return to a domestic position, I was overjoyed. I spent days preparing, imagining our first reunion as husband and wife. But even when the clock struck midnight, he still hadn't come home. Our daughter, ever so thoughtful, placed her most treasured possession—a photograph of Roy—into my hands. "Don't cry, Mommy," she said softly. "Look, Daddy's right here." I tried to convince myself that his absence was due to a delayed flight. But later that night, while watching the news, I saw him. He was on a crowded city street, holding a young girl in his arms. Beside him stood a woman, her smile soft and warm. Facing the camera, Roy said, "Being with them is my greatest wish." At that moment, something inside me broke. I wrote up the divorce papers, packed our things, and planned to take Eve to change her identity. I didn't want him anymore. The day before we left, a man I had never met came to see me. He was Roy's father. "You could call me Dad," he said, a faint smile playing on his lips. "But I'd rather you call me Ryan." I told him everything about the past five years—how I had waited, how I had hoped. When I finished, he laughed softly, an unusual warmth in his voice. "If it was just business," he said, "perhaps your father should have tied a bow around me and sent me to your bed instead. But I hold my liquor well—if I ever end up wrapped in a bow, you can be sure it's by choice."