Novel & Cerita Unsent Message To Zara

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."

On our engagement day, my fiancee, Lucille Perry, had her childhood best friend, Derek Miller, show up with a box of handmade cookies as a gift. Out of basic courtesy, I picked one up and took a bite. Derek and a few of his buddies burst out laughing. "This mama's boy can't even recognize his own mother's ashes!" My stomach churned violently. Shocked and furious, I lunged at him to throw a punch, but Lucille desperately held me back. Derek looked at me smugly and grinned. "Since you already ate it, why don't you tell everyone how your mom tastes?" I was so angry that I kicked him right in the face. However, Lucille turned around and slapped me hard across the cheek. "Spencer Bourdain, is this really necessary? Can't you take a joke? Eating a little bit of ashes won't kill you. Look at how petty you're being!" My heart went completely numb. I quietly pulled out my phone and sent a message to a certain number. [The wedding reception is ready. All we need now is you, the bride-to-be.]

After working overtime at the company for an entire week, I finally finish the last project on my plate and rush home. Not wanting to wake my sleeping wife, Mia Lawson, I carefully push the door open as quietly as I can. But the house is nothing like the silence I expected. A man's unrestrained laughter cuts sharply through the air. "You're already pregnant and still this bold. Aren't you afraid your husband will catch you?" "Why would I be? He hasn't been home for almost a week. Besides, once I tell him I'm pregnant, he'll be over the moon. There's no way he'll notice anything." In an instant, my hands and feet turn ice-cold, and blood rushes to my head. I'm about to charge in and catch them in the act when my phone suddenly vibrates with a follow-up message from the hospital. "Mr. Brooks, thank you for choosing our hospital for your vasectomy. We wish you and your wife a lifetime of happiness." A lifetime of happiness? I stare at those words, let out a cold laugh, and regain my composure. Then I turn around and call my divorce lawyer.

My mom calls me on Friday. "Don't forget about tomorrow's family dinner. Cody loves shrimps, so you should buy more of those at the seafood market in the southern district. "Lexi loves lamb chops. Go take a look in the eastern district for them. Also, don't forget to buy the imported strawberries. Noah loves them a lot." I say yes to each and every request Mom makes. But as soon as I end the call, I receive a text on the family group chat. "I've already given Eileen a list of our favorite foods. It's tough for you to earn money these days, so you shouldn't buy anything." One second later, that message is deleted. Still, I'm flabbergasted by what I just read. I've been married for two years. Every Saturday throughout those years, I'm the one paying and organizing the family dinner of the week. I thought there's no need to be so petty when it comes to family. But it seems that they've already viewed me as the outsider a long time ago. In that case, I won't be attending the family dinner anymore.

At the end of the year, I went to the spa and discovered a stranger had been using my VIP card. When I logged into my personal profile, the last three treatment records were not under my name. The preference section listed specific details about someone else. She was allergic to rose essential oil, preferred lavender, and her heating pad temperature could not exceed 108 degrees Fahrenheit. Her menstrual cycle fell around the 15th of each month, so no waist or abdomen treatments during that time. I stared at the screen, my palms turning cold. Only my husband, Zachary White, knew this password. At the time, he said he needed it to check the balance and renew my membership. I scrolled down and found a system note at the bottom: [Birthday treatment reserved for December 30, prepared according to Ms. Anderson's preferences.] Today was December 30. My phone vibrated. Zachary had sent a message: [Working late tonight. Won't be home.] Familiar laughter drifted from the hallway. Through the glass door, I watched Zachary walk into the adjacent room with his arm around a woman, the beautician hurrying forward to greet them. "Mr. White, we have Ms. Anderson's birthday treatment ready, just as you requested."

I've been in a coma for six months after a car accident. When I finally wake up, the first thing I hear is something sloppy in my hospital ward. My girlfriend, Quinn Simpson, is in here. She's kissing Chad Scott, her true love. Chad looks uneasy as he glances at me every few seconds. "Quinn, don't do this. I heard coma patients can still hear things. If Mateo hears us—" Quinn scoffs, completely unbothered. "So what? He's a vegetable. Probably won't wake up for the rest of his life. It's better this way, isn't it? Didn't you say you liked living on the edge?" They talk trash about me right in front of my face. I can even feel the contempt in Quinn's eyes. When the two of them finally leave, they don't notice the effort it takes for me to crack my eyes open. But the nurse who walks in next does. She sees it immediately and slams the emergency button. Once I start regaining strength, the first thing I do is send a message to my parents. "Mom, Dad, I'll do the arranged marriage."

I spent four years pretending to be obedient by West Graham’s side. Four years ago, after the video of Nina Avery running over my younger sister was exposed, my boyfriend, Jake Smith, hired a top-tier defense attorney for her to clear her name. When I was completely alone, with no one to rely on, it was Nina’s stepbrother, West, who stepped forward and chose justice over blood. He found a lawyer for me and gathered witness testimonies and physical evidence everywhere he could. In the end, he personally sent Nina to prison. When everything finally settled, West proposed to me, and I said yes. However, in the fourth year of our marriage, I saw an email in West’s inbox. It was a birthday message from Nina, and attached was a selfie of her smiling brightly at the beach. In the bottom-right corner of the photo was yesterday’s date. [Happy birthday, West! It’s been four years since I received Erin’s sister’s heart. There haven’t been any complications at all. Thanks to you and Jake, I’m given a second chance in life.] West replied. [To make you happy, I’ll do anything.] After reading all of it, I smiled brighter than ever. It’s been four years, and their time to die has finally come.

I, Ginny Tremaine, have a written agreement in my mate contract with Tyler Kingsley, the chairman of the Werewolf Council. As long as I proposed to him 99 times first, he promised to personally show up at the Office of Werewolf Mate Affairs on the 100th time and complete our marking ceremony. However, Tyler doesn't show up on the promised day and instead appears on the main stage of the Silvernight Music Festival with his lover, Vivian Lowe. In the livestream watched by the entire pack, he leans down and kisses her so intimately that it's practically a declaration of ownership. The social media networks instantly erupt with excitement. "#ChairmanOfTheWerewolfCouncilOfficiallyRevealsMate." "Chairman of the Werewolf Council caught kissing his lover and showing PDA." At the same time, I become a trending search for standing in front of the Mate Affairs office for the 100th time. Everyone speculates about the identity of the mystery man who never showed up and wonders if I will try for a 101st proposal. Tyler, likely feeling guilty, promises me the next day, "Next time, I promise I'll be there on time." He arrives in a crisp suit with papers in hand, standing outside the Mate Affairs office. But all he receives is a short message from me, saying, "Alpha Tyler, there won't be a 101st proposal. We're truly over."

Becca is the most conspicuous and considered interrogator in all of LA. She has the brutality, harsh and cold attitude that brings suspects to their knees but she lacks love, a family and real friends. Nineteen years ago, she was a victim of a tragic accident that took away her childhood memories. She doesn't remember at all her parents, sibling and relatives. Due to a jealous uncle, Dan, Becca lost her brother, was separated from her parents and lost her memory. She was taken in by an old Irish couple who found her unconscious at a tunnel, close to the train terminal. The couple raised her until she was nineteen then kicked her out for her misbehaviour. She became a bully to survive, only that she was never destined to be a bully. Dan used to bully her and her new unfound conscious took after his uncle in order to adapt. Xander, a doctor, claims he can restore her memory back in form of a video. Once she finds out the truth behind the accident, she opts to seek revenge and find her parents. Jeremy, a potential love interest, advices her against taking revenge on Dan but Marlon, another love interest, who is also in the case, advices to take the Mafia down. Black Mail as title is used to refer to dark news or message Becca receives and how she would respond to it.

Ten years ago, a message was picked up via satellite claiming to be from another solar system. No one knew exactly what was going on but shortly after receiving the transmission, anomalies had been picked up, UFOs were what the news outlets called them. Then came the space ships.At the age of 22, Camille has seen and endured more than any 22 year old woman should. Finally escaping her abusive ex, Camille finds herself in New York with the help of an old friend. Armed with a new identity and a job, Camille has one goal, get to Canada where her ex can't get her. Simple, right? Jag, Sid and Kal have been best friends for as long as they can remember. They have grown up together, they have joined the military together and now they are stationed on earth together. They just need to get through their tour and then they can go back home to Draygon. So what happens when a human girl who wants to disappear catches the attention of three Alien warriors? And what if Camille was never as free as she thought she was? Can Jag, Sid and Kal help her heal? Or will a hidden threat destroy everything before they can really find each other?