Time Our Life

On my eighteenth birthday, I met him. The day that was supposed to be my day felt utterly ordinary because of my parents status but fate had other plans . I met the Young Alpha Zayn, He promised to make my birthday memorable and turn my mundane birthday into a night of dreams if I agreed to go with him to his school ball. He kept his promise, The night was filled with memories together but it was short lived when he varnished with no trace leaving me alone in the ball room as a pawn for the other rich kids to play with . Now , Five years later , my destiny was sealed -I am to marry the Alpha of our park, I was going to meet him again after all these years of Admiring and Loving him from afar, He was going to be my husband, it was a dream come true but reality was far from it . Entering his world, I was met with a chilling truth:He turns out to not have a single memory of me except that I was the daughter of the poorest man in the park and the girl he was forced to marry . My marriage with him was a definition of Torment, Harsh reality and his never ending hatred for me , Soon the marriage was over and I was casted aside. I was no longer in love with him but yet my heart was filled with so much hatred for the man that I had loved so much. Years after I left the Marriage, We met again but I was no longer the weak wife he always tampered with and for some reason he no longer had so much hate for me but rather he wanted to remarry.

I married the same man nine times. And each time, he left me for his first love, divorcing me nine times as well. The first time we parted, I lost control and threw all his belongings out the door. By the fourth divorce, I begged him to leave his luggage behind out of fear he might never return. The eighth time, I had learned to obediently pack his things, careful not to upset him. My breakdowns, my pleas, and my obedience always brought him back to me. Each time, he honored his promises. And each time, we divorced again, just like before. Until this time. This time, I packed my own things and left without telling him. A month from now, I will be gone for good.

My fiancee, Isabelle Bailey, engages in a passionate kiss with her stage partner, Shawn Sanders, in a theater play. While the audience is wholly touched by the romance depicted by the main characters of the play, I know for a fact that the actual script doesn't feature the kissing scene at all. Guilt flickers across Isabelle's face at my confrontation. But she argues, "We were just acting! Are you saying that I can't act out romance scenes anymore?" I no longer demand answers from Isabelle like a hysterical fool. Instead, I give the roses that are cultivated from a new breed to the background actors. After leaving the afterparty, I call my mentor, Patrick White. "Professor, I'm willing to travel to the northwest to plant roses there."

"Here she comes, witch!" She hissed before throwing a beautiful black dress at me. I hurriedly grab it before it could land on the floor. She might find fault in that and end up starving for making the dress fall on the floor. Not only for a day but might go on for weeks. I was tempted to ask her what's the dress for but she beat me to it. "Go to your room now and change into this. Your husband to be and his mom will be visiting soon" "W... What?!!!"

"Do you know the other reasons why I am so furious? It's not just because I saw you with Kristoffer during this late night." "I am angry, because you just fucking left me again after what had happened between us last night!" "You left me after you repeatedly begged me to fuck you harder!" Everything started to turn upsidedown when Samantha Hudson found out that her step-brother is no other than the man who took her virginity, Tristan Hilton, a billionaire who's also known for being a playboy on their city. How can they resist the forbidden desires they've been holding for each other, knowing that it'll be a kind of sin?

Of the five boys who'd been raised to marry me, Lance Riverford was the one who hated me the most. And yet, he was the one I loved the most. Three times I was reborn, and three times I forced him to be my husband. Each time ended the same way—he and his childhood sweetheart killed me. When I opened my eyes for the fourth time and met that same look of loathing in his eyes, something inside me finally let go. I turned away and chose his rival, Jace Elden, as my husband instead. But at the wedding, Lance demanded with tears in his eyes, "Why did you choose someone else this time? Are you doing this just to spite me?" That was when I realized… he'd been reborn too.

"Pregnant patient, corpus luteum rupture, heavy bleeding! We need a consent form signed—now!" I stood there holding the clipboard, waiting, when a voice I knew way too well cut through the chaos. "I'm here!" Jimmy. My husband. The same guy who vanished on our anniversary—now signing off on emergency surgery for another woman. He didn't even blink before writing "husband" on the form. Still had our wedding ring on, too. He didn't recognize me behind the mask. Just grabbed my hand and begged. "Please save her. It's my fault. She's pregnant. I messed up. I love her. I can't lose her." His grip tightened. My wedding ring slipped off and hit the floor. I didn't say a word. Just turned and walked into the OR. A doctor beside me, totally clueless, beamed and said, "Dr. Meyer, your test results came back—twins! Your husband's gonna be so happy. Congrats!" I smiled, barely. "Schedule the termination after surgery."

When Alyssa's boyfriend dumped her after a five-year-long relationship, little did she know that she was in for a toe-curling slow burn romance that turns into a wild ride with another guy from another time. Through a bizarre phenomenon, she wakes up as Allena, a Celtic tribe chief's daughter in ~200 BCE. With secrets to keep, adventures to go on, and a man to love, a timeless heartwarming love story spanning tens of centuries unfolds as the tides of destiny bring two fated, star-crossed lovers together.

An accident occurred during my graduation trip, causing me to get my left leg amputated. Surprisingly enough, Britney Lambert, the campus belle whom I had a crush on, proposed to me afterward. We were married for the next 30 years. Throughout our marriage, we respected and concerned each other properly. Before I passed away, I found out that all 199 love letters that I had written were thrown into the trash pile. Meanwhile, Britney kept the love letters another person had sent her in a safe. Obviously, she treated those letters like her most cherished treasure. When my illness took a turn for the worse, I could only lie on my sickbed with one foot in my grave. Britney arrived at my ward later than usual. Before I closed my eyes, I heard the final words she uttered to me. "Next time, don't save me anymore." I finally understood her real feelings for me. She'd rather die than be with me, it seemed. When I wake up again, I've returned to the timeframe before the graduation trip starts. This time, I decide not to have anything to do with Britney. We shall be strangers in this lifetime. But when the accident occurs once again, Britney is the one rushing toward me. "It's my turn to save you now."

I wasn’t even pregnant, yet I ended up popping abortion pills like they were candy. It was all because in my past life, the moment my widowed sister-in-law got pregnant, every single side effect of her pregnancy became mine. She strutted around happily with her big belly, consuming spicy tamales, while I was rushed to the hospital for violent nausea and stomach pain; she showed off her flawless skin in crop tops every day, while my stomach broke out in hideous stretch marks. When I told my husband what was happening, he just shoved me away impatiently. “Enough with the jealousy! My brother’s dead, and she’s carrying his only child. Of course, I should look out for her. Do you really have to put on such an act?” After that, my sister-in-law went even further. She kept testing her limits during pregnancy and even ate a mango she was allergic to. And me? I went into anaphylactic shock, landed in the hospital, and nearly died. Doctors couldn’t explain it. They just brushed it off, saying I was overly jealous and it was all psychological. Later, my sister-in-law tried to brand herself as a “hot single mom”. She went live, belly and all, to show off her weight-loss workouts. She jumped around for three straight hours. And me? My uterus literally gave out, and I hemorrhaged to death. When I opened my eyes again, it was the exact day she first announced her pregnancy.