Unattainable

The last time I argued with my husband, he slammed the door on me and left. I was so upset that I died from a heart attack. Meanwhile, he took his lover and her son traveling to take his mind off things. The entire time, our daughter, who was just a child, was abandoned at home for seven days with my corpse. At last, when Eliott remembered me and my daughter, he returned home to see my corpse. Having fallen sick, my daughter was all skin and bones. When Eliott realized his mistake, he hugged our daughter tightly and broke down crying in front of my grave. My daughter pulled away from him and hid behind my gravestone. She hissed sharply at him, “Who do you think you are? Don't disturb Mommy’s rest!”

On my wedding night, Sean Boswell was with his first love when I suffered a miscarriage as my kidnappers tortured me. I begged endlessly for him to save me, only for him to laugh, "You were just demanding a divorce in the morning, and now you're faking a kidnapping so that I'd come back? Is that the only thing you can do?" Eventually, when I gave up and stopped clinging on being Mrs. Boswell, he chased me to the airport, pleading with a crack in his voice, "Just stay, Anna. Let's make things how it used to be."

My mate, Charles, commander of the fire brigade, left me alone in the den with our unborn pup after I refused his request to bring his first love, Lisa, and her pup into our home so he could take care of them. Five days later, Charles reached out—claiming he wanted to ease the tension between us. He asked me to deliver the herbs that help with his insomnia to the fire brigade. On the way there, I was in an accident. I mind-linked him, begging for help, but to my shock, he refused. I believed he was training the new werewolf firemen—but the truth? He was in the infirmary, not for duty, but with Lisa and her pup. After losing my pup, I walked away—shattered, betrayed, and done.

"Mom, Dad, I’ve decided to come home for the blind dates you mentioned. I’ll be back by the end of the month." In the early spring, with the lingering chill of winter in the air, Valerie Stonecutter pushed open the door while speaking softly into the phone. Her gentle voice drifted through the rain like a thread weaving through the mist. Pulling her collar tighter against the cold, she heard her parents breathe a sigh of relief on the other end. "Val," her father began, his voice heavy with age. “Your mom and I haven’t been in good health these past few years. So now that you’ve made up your mind, that’s good. When you’re back, I’ll have your Aunt Laura arrange a few suitable candidates for you to meet." Hearing that her parents were already making arrangements for her future, Valerie’s gaze flickered, her emotions momentarily unsettled. After a few more words of small talk, she ended the call. She glanced around her home with a heavy heart, her thoughts tangled in a quiet storm. Then she retreated to her bedroom and began to pack.

The yacht I'm steering crashes into a huge wave, scaring my husband's junior, who has a heart condition. So, my husband orders someone to tie me up and dangle me in the ocean by a rope. He even tells the captain to head straight into the waves. "You know Wren has a heart condition, yet you still scared her! How can you be so evil?" I beg him to let me go and tell him that I was following a charted path; I didn't mean for anything to happen. However, he just mocks me. "You've been a yacht driver for so long. Haven't you experienced anything like this before? I'll make you go through what Wren did! Let's see whether you'll pull this again!" After a day and night of this torment, he relents and decides to pull me back up. It's too bad he doesn't know that the waves have already torn me to shreds.

My husband, a regiment commander, once promised me he'd only accompany his depressed first love ninety-nine times. But when I finally reached that ninety-ninth tally, I saw the two of them locked in a tight embrace. After that, I stopped crying and begging him not to go to her. I only asked him for a safety locket—a small blessing for our soon-to-be-born child. At the mention of the baby, his expression softened. "When I get back," he said gently, "I'll go with you to the hospital for the checkup." I nodded obediently. I didn't tell him that ten days earlier, I had already filed for divorce. Now, our divorce was final.

I was the stand-in who looked most like my husband's first love. He put me through countless plastic surgeries, both major and minor ones, until I became her exact likeness. But then, she came back from the dead. All it took was her saying, "I don't like anyone looking like me," and he sent me right back to the operating table once more. I begged him, telling him that my body couldn't handle it anymore. Alas, he only looked at me with irritation. "Seeing that cheap imitation of her face just disgusts me," he sneered. "No matter how close you come, you'll never be her." In the end, I died on that operating table. Yet, he went mad, trying desperately to recall what I once looked like.

While accompanying my husband, Austin Lockhart, to his class reunion, we run into his true love, Leticia Gomez. After the gathering, Austin learns that Leticia's been having a tough time. He corners her against a wall and says, "How much do you still owe? Be with me, and I'll give you a hundred grand a month. Is that enough?" I stand quietly at the street corner, capturing their touching reunion on camera. Then, I send the photos to my lawyer. I also forward them to Austin with a simple message. "Since you two are so in love, why not go ahead and marry her?"

The day Pedro Palmer's mom was supposed to get my kidney, I ghosted. He waited outside the OR for ten hours. What did he get? A death notice. After that, he went full beast mode on his career. Five years later, his company blew up. Media darling. CEO. Power suit. And yeah, he was holding another girl's hand, all smiles for the cameras. "Do you have anything to say to Ruth Rackham? We heard she supported your early days," a reporter asked. Not even a pause. "Yeah. Thanks for vanishing. For letting my mom die with questions. For wrecking me. She taught me not to trust anyone." He stepped in closer, eyes cold. "This is what you wanted, Ruth? Too bad. Love's gone. And you? Not even worth my hate." That's when Nellie Lyon, the reporter, went pale. "Mr. Palmer... Ruth Rackham died five years ago. She was the test subject. She donated her body—before she passed..."

My husband's true love and I are trapped when a fire breaks out. He's a firefighter—when he arrives on scene, he chooses to save her without hesitation. I barely make it out alive. Once I do, I demand a divorce. He doesn't understand why. He asks, "Why do you want to divorce me? Because I didn't save you first?" I angrily throw the divorce agreement in his face. "Yes, that's exactly why! Because you chose to save your old flame when she was further from you!"