Two Perfect Strangers Novels & Stories

I explained as I saw some photos of celestial works and took some photos of it. "That will be cool to watch " I whispered to myself as I saw how the sun was setting, the moment I flipped the book on page two-hundred-seventeen. "Hello! Can we share a table with you?" A cute and timid girl asked. She looked so nervous with a girl on her side. Maybe they were juniors. "Sure, no problem!" I smiled and nodded my head as a response. "Let's go," Kolten whispered after some moments, seemed like he was irritated as we saw that the girls the form the other table was trying to take a photo of him as one of the girls' phone accidentally flashed. He stood up and gently grabbed my wrist.

But then he realized something when reading it. Mingchan was holding that thin page and staring at that panel where that robot guy was being kissed by a woman. “W-why is this so familiar?” Mingchan asked himself as the My Perfect Boyfriend w*****n was based on their true to life story. Mingchan was reading everything. He could not stop laughing and giggling until he reached the latest episode.

"Seven." "Who are you?" The stranger smiled. "Wrong question." "Six." Alex backed away. The stranger never moved. "Five." Then Alex saw them. Across the street. Two men exiting a black SUV. Scanning faces. Searching. Hunting. His stomach dropped. "Four." Alex turned and ran. The stranger remained seated. Watching. A slight smile touched his lips. Then he removed a phone from his pocket. "He's moving." A pause. Then: "Good."

After catching my supposedly frigid wife, Emmy Winslow, aroused by our household robot butler, I swallowed my disgust and sent the machine to a destruction facility. I never expected that decision to cost her life. On the way to chase after the robot, Emmy was involved in a horrific car accident and died at the scene. From that day on, I became notorious in our social circle as the jealous husband who drove his wife to her death. Five years passed. Night after night, I tortured myself by wondering if she would still be alive had I not been so petty over a machine. Until today, while discussing business at a private club, I passed a half-open VIP suite and heard one of Emmy's closest frie

Whatever love I had once felt for them disappeared completely, swiftly replaced by disgust and hatred. I wanted to slap them both. One was a shameless freeloader who lived off me while tearing me down at every chance he got, acting like I was the one who wasn't good enough for him. The other had been plotting behind my back, stealing my boyfriend, and helping him ruin me before walking away with my money and a smile on her face. The two of them were perfect for each other; the rotting smell wafting off them certainly complemented each other. Since fate has granted me a second chance, I was determined to ensure they paid for crossing me.

“Come on. I know the perfect way to cheer you up back at my place.” “Let her go,” a voice said from behind them. Both men turned. A stranger stood a few steps away. He was tall and built like a linebacker. He glared at the two men as he walked over. The first man snorted. “Mind your business.” “She already refused your offer,” the stranger said. “Let her go.” The second man stepped toward him. “And who the hell are you?”