Vegas To.do 35 Male

Even though this is my eighth time proposing to Beverly Galvan, she still coldly turns me down again. She says that she isn't ready yet and that she needs more time. Since that's the case, I tell myself I will wait as long as it takes. That's when I see it—her and my brother's marriage certificate, posted for everyone to see on her social media. When I question her about it, she merely says in a calm voice, "Timothy's unwell. He can't get too upset, so you'd better not start anything!" They are wearing wedding rings in that photo, and there is a barely visible bump on her belly. In that moment, the storm within me dissipates. Hitting the like button on the post, I type out a comment. "I wish you both a lifetime of joy. May the two of you grow old together!" A year later, a desperate-looking Beverly shows up in front of me, begging that we get back together. Unfortunately for her, her best friend, who was clearly pregnant, steps in with a smile and pushes her aside. "Give it a rest, will you? My husband already has a wife. We can have kids of our own. There's no need for him to be someone's fallback guy."

A business trip took an unexpected turn when our plane ran into disaster. While everyone else was penning their last words, I, an orphan with nothing to lose, decided to have a little fun with my miserly boss. “Boss, let’s keep this short—I like you.” “I really, really like you.” “Boss, this is a final goodbye.” Just when all hope seemed lost, the captain pulled off a miracle with his years of experience, saving us from the brink of catastrophe. By the time we landed safely, I was still in a daze until I saw my boss, eyes bloodshot, storming toward me, flanked by a wall of black-suited bodyguards.

My wife, Ivy Hart, is about to give birth to the baby she conceived with Toby Clayton, her first love. Her parents hire ten bodyguards to stand guard outside the delivery room. Cora Norris, Ivy's mother, takes Ivy's hand and remarks, "Don't worry, Ivy. We'll make sure he can't get within two feet of you! Your dad is standing guard outside with the bodyguards. If he dares to stop you from having the baby, we'll report him to the police!" Ivy nods, her complexion pale, but she instinctively looks toward the door anyway. She doesn't see why I can't be more understanding of her. All she wants to do is help Toby have a child to carry on his family name. The birth proceeds without me showing up to cause a scene. She smiles gladly when she sees the crying baby in the nurse's arms. She thinks to herself that if I visit her tomorrow, she is willing to forget all about our previous fights. She is even willing to let me be the baby's father. What she doesn't know is that I've already submitted my application to the Alliance of Nations. In seven days, I will be leaving the country to become a field doctor for the Frontline Medical Corp, a humanitarian organization. I won't be coming back ever again.

My wife, wanting to spend a romantic birthday date with her first love, added a dose of sleeping medication to the milk bottle of our sick, crying daughter. The medicine took effect, and our daughter drifted into a deep sleep, which allowed them to enjoy a romantic, undisturbed date together. When I came home, I found our daughter still sleeping. By the time we arrived at the hospital, it was too late. I called my wife, but she answered with irritation. "Is it because I'm celebrating Shawn's birthday that you must ruin it? I'll go home after the celebration is over." Then, she turned off her phone. Little did she know that, for the sake of one romantic date, she had taken our daughter's life.

I loved Clara deeply. When she was in danger, I didn't hesitate to save her, even at the cost of my own life. The incident left both my legs broken and confined me to a wheelchair, but she promised we'd marry once she passed her medical boards. To help her focus on her studies, I worked tirelessly, wheeling myself around day and night to make ends meet. But behind my back, she rekindled her relationship with Caleb Carter, her childhood sweetheart. One day, I found her in his arms, laughing and happy. I confronted her, demanding to know why she'd betrayed me. She responded by shoving me to the ground, treating me like I was worthless. Then she pulled a scalpel from her medical bag, her hands steady as she held it over my chest. "Caleb needs a heart transplant to live," she said. "Please, help me one last time."

My CEO wife insists on taking a young, fresh intern under her wing. She wants to train him personally. She says to me, "Don't overthink this. I just value his potential." She's always been stern and stoic, but she starts dressing in pink and pulling her hair back in high ponytails. On our third wedding anniversary, she and the intern even willfully disappear for 48 hours. When others are searching for her like mad, she shares photos of her riding a carousel and holding cotton candy. She captions them, "I found the purest of joys in the most joyful of places—all because of you!" Our company loses a huge project because of this, and I lose my wife. I slip a divorce agreement between the pages of the intern's application to become a permanent staff member. My wife signs it without even looking and says, "Knowing what Elliot can do, he's more than capable of carrying out the role of a vice president." I calmly hand her my resignation. "You're right. That's why I'll make way for him."

While attending a class reunion with my wife, we ran into her old flame—Caelum Zeth. After the gathering, Talia Grant cornered Caelum against a wall. When she found out he had fallen on hard times, she kissed him. "How much do you still owe? Be with me. I'll give you 100 thousand a month. Will that be enough?" I stood quietly at the corner of the street and snapped a photo of their heartfelt reunion before sending it to my lawyer. I also forwarded it to Talia, along with a message, "Since you two are so in love, go ahead and marry him."

My wife—Nancy Valente—had been "missing" for three months after some fake skiing accident. I spotted her at a bar. She was draped over Finley Bennett's shoulder, laughing like she hadn't wrecked my life. "Good thing you came up with this plan. I almost forgot what freedom felt like." Her crew kept clinking glasses, asking when she planned to pop back up. She glanced down. "Maybe in a week. I'll show up once he's lost his mind." I stayed in the shadows, watching her bask in her little escape act. Then I grabbed my phone and called a buddy at the Vital Records Office.

My mother was dying. Her only wish before she passed was to see me married. For 27 days, I begged my girlfriend, Monica Teller, and she finally agreed to register for marriage with me on the 27th day. I waited at the courthouse until closing, but she never came. That same day, her childhood sweetheart, Gurney Barnes, posted their marriage certificate on social media. [Time sure flies. Three more days, and we'll have been married for a month.] It was then I finally realized that she had married her childhood sweetheart since the first day I started begging her. Not long after, an apology text from Monica buzzed on my phone. [I'm so sorry, Lincoln. Gurney's family was forcing him into marriage. I couldn't stand by and watch him get shackled to a stranger. Just give it three days. We'll file for divorce. Three days later, I'll marry you." Three days later, she showed up at the courthouse in a wedding gown, But the only thing waiting for her was my message. [Goodbye, Monica. May we never meet again.]

One week before the wedding, I accidentally came across a copy of my girlfriend's abortion procedure report. She always insisted she was uninterested in being intimate, yet behind my back, she had secretly aborted another man's baby. Instead of questioning her, I quietly put the report back where I found it. For the next week, I went along with the wedding planning, picking out the outfits and rings. But on the day of the wedding, the bride, waiting endlessly for the groom who never came, lost her mind.