Typing Quirk Generator

Rosie White, the only daughter of the whites who had fallen in love with her boyfriend since first grade, finally managed to date him and became his fiancé despite all the difficulties. But in the third year of their relationship, he cheated on her with an unknown woman, the truth chattering her will to love again, until she had a one-night stand with an unknown man, who pestered her to take responsibility. Rosie is the best surgeon doctor in eastern Georgia, popularly known as Miss Rose. She always appears cold-hearted and looks strong, but breaks on the inside. Being a twenty-eight-year-old spinster and having been pressured by her family to get married, the Whites were desperate to marry their daughter to someone of similar status. Mr. Logan, as Rosie calls him, is clingy as hell, and will pester her on a day-to-day basis, and finally decides to get married to him, on the premise of repaying him for rescuing her and according to the contract, divorce after after three years! But why is this man not planning to divorce at all? Who is Mr Logan? The most devilish and feared man in the United States! With so many secrets looming behind the scenes, her life is just like a Pandora's box, following the uncovering of so many truths. Excerpts “Wifey, you taste sweeter today, let me have some more.” James hugged Rosie possessively, unwilling to let the squirming woman underneath him go. “You wish! That’s what you said yesterday!” Rosie rolled her eyes and attempted to push him off her. “I’m hungry, wifey.” “There is food in the kitchen.” She stated, still typing vigorously on her laptop. “No... I want you...”

I knock on the door, heart pounding like it always does when I’m about to see him. “Come in,” Justin’s voice calls—cool, smooth, and frustratingly calm. I take a deep breath and walk in, holding the folder tightly. “Here’s the report you requested, sir.” He doesn’t even glance at me. Just keeps typing, his expression unreadable. “You’re late,” he says without missing a beat. I clench my jaw. “There was a delay at the printer—” “No excuses, Joanna. Just do better next time.” Ouch. Professional and cold. As always. I nod, ignoring the sting in my chest. “Yes, sir.” I turn to leave, gripping the doorknob—just one more second and I’ll be out of this weird tension-filled office— “Wait.” I freeze. I turn around slowly. “Yes?” Justin stands now, walking toward me. In his hand, a familiar brown paper bag. He holds it out. “You didn’t have lunch.” I blink. “I’m fine.” “You skipped breakfast too. Eat.” I hesitate. “What is it?” “Chicken pesto. No onions.” My breath catches. He still remembers? “Why are you doing this?” I ask quietly. He shrugs, not meeting my eyes. “I just… remember things.” My fingers brush his as I take the bag. Warmth. Stupid warmth that shouldn’t still feel this familiar. Then, he looks at me—really looks at me. “You shouldn’t skip meals… wife.” Silence. My chest tightens. “Don’t call me that.” But my voice is too soft to sound convincing. I walk out before I say something I’ll regret. His words echo in my mind like a dangerous lullaby. Cold one second. Kilig the next. God… he’s still him. And that’s exactly the problem.