Tragic Theater

Everyone is envious of my flawless husband, Samuel Copeland, who indulges in everything I say. But what they are unaware of is the fact that he has betrayed me thrice. The first time is when he cheated on me with his secretary, Tiffany Finch. He fires her and explains to me repeatedly that it's just a misunderstanding. I choose to believe him. The second time is when I'm at my pregnancy checkup at the hospital, alone. Then, I end up seeing him accompanying Tiffany on her pregnancy checkup when he's supposed to be on a business trip. I have a huge fight with Samuel over it and almost had a miscarriage. Frightened out of his wits, he makes Tiffany get an abortion, then sends her away overnight. He pleads with me for half a year before I agree to return home for our child's sake. The last thing I expect is for him to cheat on me a third time, when he actually brings our child to acknowledge Tiffany as his mother. Angered, I fail to avoid the car that's coming right in my direction. In the end, I die a tragic death in a traffic accident. The next time I open my eyes, I have returned to the day when Samuel accompanies Tiffany on her pregnancy checkup. This time, I am prepared with a divorce agreement as I have decided to let them have their way. Yet, Samuel gives up everything he has, just so that he can beg me to change my mind.

I supported Ethan Mitchell and loved him for eight whole years. I thought I concealed my feelings well, but little did I know that after Ethan became a business magnate, the first thing he did was send me to a ladies’ finishing academy. He looked at me coldly, his arms wrapped around his fiancée. "When you've rid yourself of those filthy thoughts, then you can come out." A year later, I finally forgot him completely. However, Ethan came to regret everything.

I spent five years as Dominic Santoro’s wife in name only. Five years hidden behind closed doors, buried under his sheets, erased from his world. When he finally agreed to take me back to Chicago—to stand beside him, to be seen—I thought I had won. I bought a new dress. Soft. Elegant. Worthy of a Don’s woman. The night before we left, he looked at me through the mirror and said calmly, “Take the makeup off. Change into pants.” I asked why. He adjusted his cufflinks like I was nothing more than background noise. “Juliana Lancaster is back. Tonight is our engagement.” Russian Bratva. Lancaster blood. A marriage alliance. Seeing my silence, he laughed—careless, cruel. “What’s with that look? Didn’t we agree on this when we married? Brotherhood. Loyalty. No love.” Then he turned, eyes sharp and mocking. “Victoria Miller… you didn’t actually fall in love with me, did you?” I stood there, frozen. Because inside the inner pocket of his tailored suit— was my pregnancy report. And the Don of Chicago had no idea the woman he was about to sacrifice was carrying his heir.

Winona Warren never imagined that on her birthday, her son would hand her a walnut cake that could kill her. As her consciousness began to blur, she heard Asher Rhodes' furious voice. "Carter, don't you know your mother is allergic to walnuts?" Carter Rhodes' childish voice rang out with startling clarity. "I do. But I want Ella to be my mom instead. Dad, you want that too, don't you? Even if I..." A crushing wave of suffocation overwhelmed Winona before she could hear the rest of Asher's answer. In the second before she completely lost consciousness, Winona had only one thought. If she woke up, she would never be Asher's wife or Carter's mother again.

In my previous life, my husband's female coworker had asked him to drive her to and from work. I wasn't happy about that, but my husband dismissed my concerns, saying, "We live in the same neighborhood, so it's not like I'm going out of my way. Don't be so selfish." Six months later, she became pregnant and tragically miscarried in our car. The doctor was baffled, saying, "How could she have intercourse in the early stages of pregnancy?" Intercourse? I was confused, as her husband was overseas on a business trip. Before I could fully process the situation, both my husband and his female coworker pointed their fingers at me and claimed that I was the driver during the incident. Because of that, when her husband rushed back from abroad, he stabbed me over twenty times in a fit of rage. When I opened my eyes again, I found myself back on the day before he first gave her a ride.

On the very night Finn Chapman's first love got divorced, he threw the ninety-ninth divorce agreement at me. "Lisa's heart is broken. She can't move on. I have to take care of her," he said. Even our seven-year-old son tried to persuade me. "You should just agree to the divorce and leave," he told me. "Let Lisa move in. We don't need a maid like you anymore." Both father and son were certain I'd scream, cry, beg them not to throw me out. But I didn't. I simply nodded, quietly signed my name on the divorce papers, and left. Ten years later, my son became the top scorer on the SATs. During an interview, a reporter asked him, "What has motivated you to study so hard all these years?" He went silent for a moment. Then, in front of everyone, his eyes turned red. "Because I wanted to tell my mom," he said, voice trembling, "I've grown up now. Will you come back? Please don't leave me again."

When I went to the hospital for a checkup to see if my fourth IVF attempt had succeeded, I saw Daniel Cooper, who was supposed to be on a business trip. He was carefully supporting a young, beautiful woman as they walked out of the obstetrics and gynecology department. Her belly was unmistakably round, and she looked like she was ready to give birth at any moment. Daniel froze for just a second before stepping in front of her, shielding her from me. He explained, "Abby, the Cooper family needs an heir to carry on the lineage. Once the baby is born, everything will go back to the way it was." I heard the certainty in his words. So I smiled, nodded, and quietly tucked my test results away as he stared at me in surprise. On the day she gave birth, I left the divorce papers on the kitchen table and walked out of his life for good.

I am a firefighter. A beam crashes onto me in the middle of a burning building. At the same time, my oxygen is about to run out. I writhe and struggle as much as I can to reach for my backup oxygen canister, only to feel my fingers brushing over a bottle of water instead. When I turn around, I see my wife, Leah Sawyer, giving the last backup oxygen canister to her new mentee, Roderick Wyndham. I begin calling out to her via a walkie-talkie. "Leah, I'm being pinned down right now, and my oxygen's running out! Where is the oxygen canister?" As Leah shields Roderick behind her, she replies impatiently, "I've already given it to Roderick. It's his first time inside a burning building, so he's frightened. Having an extra canister on him gives him a sense of security. "You're already a veteran firefighter, so you can just think up a way to resolve your situation. Don't go around wasting precious resources." I can feel thick smoke infiltrating my lungs at that moment. Feelings of asphyxiation soon overwhelm me. "My leg is broken, so I can't move at all! Without oxygen, I won't be able to hold out till I get rescued!" But Leah merely chortles in response. "Stop playing the pity card! Every time we're out on a mission, you're always the cowardly one who's terrified of dying! You have zero sense of dedication at all! I shouldn't have let you join the firefighting squad, to begin with! "What's the use of you clinging to the equipment? Giving it to the newbies is the best way of maximizing its value!" I can only smile bitterly in response. Using what's left of my strength, I switch to a public channel and begin reporting to the command center. "For the record, Captain Leah Sawyer deliberately tampered with the essential rescue equipment in order to protect Roderick Wyndham, causing me, a fellow firefighter, to be trapped in a deadly situation. "I hereby request the immediate activation of the Firefighter Emergency Evacuation Act. Also, I formally charge Leah with gross negligence and attempted homicide."

Three years ago, I broke up with my girlfriend—Audrey Hades—while she was on the verge of going bankrupt. Immediately after, I got engaged to her biggest rival, Clara Sterling. Later, she turns into a celebrated and adored rising star of the business world. She allows people around her to mock and label me as a gold-digger who leeches off rich women. But what she doesn't know is that I've been dead for three years.

Today happens to be Yvonne Ziegler's birthday. Yvonne is Shawn Jacobson's, my husband's, newly hired personal assistant. Shawn spares no expense in buying her a villa as a birthday present, and Yvonne haughtily takes to social media to show off on the day she moves in. "I'd like everyone to know that I'm married to a wealthy man now." Shawn comments on the post, saying, "Happy birthday, my beloved Yvonne!" In the picture, Shawn's hand rests intimately on Yvonne's slender waist, leaving no doubt about their intimate relationship. In that instant, the company's group chat erupts into a frenzy of notifications, as colleagues declare their envy of Yvonne and heap praise upon her for being young and accomplished. Oscar Jagger, my childhood friend, notices the picture and immediately tags me in the group chat. He then sends me a pointed, teasing message, saying, "Shawn's display of love is so glaring! Congrats on being cheated on, Leslie!" I manage a bitter, wry smile, taking my time to type out the response. "Do you need a villa as well, Oscar? I'm happy to give you a place—a much nicer one than Shawn's, of course."