Watame Face Novels & Stories

At graduation, I invited my classmates to attend my engagement party, but what I didn’t expect was the total meltdown one of my classmates had when she saw my engagement photos. She strutted over, full of herself, and demanded that I take off my dress so she could use it to polish her shoes. I blinked in confusion, thinking she must have lost her mind. I laughed and suggested she head over to the campus clinic to get checked out. Instead, she exploded, pointing a finger right in my face as she started yelling. “You leech! How dare you wear something so expensive?” she screamed. “You’ve been spending all of my boyfriend’s money on your filthy clothes! Have you no shame? Get down on your knees and apologize, or I guarantee you'll regret it. Who knows where you'll end up tomorrow? Maybe in the hands of some trafficker?” I couldn’t help but laugh. Who would’ve thought that my fiancé, whose tuition fees I paid for, had the nerve to keep a secret mistress behind my back?

When I saw her from across the bar with her pretty little face, her big brown eyes, her long black hair and her beautiful body, I just knew that I would never be able to shake her from my damn mind. She turned my life upside down from the day I laid eyes on her. But then, the situation changed. She saw something she shouldn’t have seen. Found out who I really was. The truth behind my rugged exterior. But you know the rules of the Corsican Mafia. No witnesses… So I had to take her in. I had to make her my hostage. And I had to make her my wife… Whether she liked it or not.

"After seeing all this, will you still be able to love me? You surely are not. That's why I was telling you to change your decision otherwise you won't have to see all this." With his one finger, he wiped her tears. His eyes were fixed on her horrified turn yellow pale face. "My love which has been in my heart for years can't be ended in a moment on seeing all this. And my decision will not change till my last breath." In weeping, she went on sitting on the floor. She was on the trajectory of that love where there was no going back. "If this is your final decision then fine. After that nikkah (marriage agreement) don't keep any kind of expectation from me." On her stubbornness, he controlled his rage and said in defeated voice. "If you get tired from fulfilling this one-sided relationship then remember I'm always willing to let you go back. You can free yourself from this relationship." After done with his saying, he turned back abruptly. While Hadia hide her face in her hands and started crying profoundly at what he said to her. Will Wadan accept and fell in love to Hadia who he raised since her childhood? Or Hadia will have to forget him and give up on her love just because he doesn't her worthy to love?

The next time I saw Chase Reed, it was at a little guesthouse in the Rockies. I'd just finished feeding my son breakfast and was wiping his mouth when Chase came out from the kitchen carrying a tray. Our eyes met. I saw his pupils dilate in shock. Three years had passed. His skin was weathered and reddened from the sun, his face covered in stubble, with new lines etched around his eyes from the harsh elements. Then his gaze landed on my son. He froze mid-step, his eyes going wide with disbelief before flooding with joy. He hurried over, his eyes locked on my little boy. "Sweetheart... can you say 'Daddy'?" I lowered my head, turned sideways, and pulled my son protectively into my arms. Three years ago, when I was five months pregnant, Chase had felt trapped. He decided to hit the road with his buddy — a female friend — and bike across the Rockies. He told me to cut off all contact and give him three years of freedom. From that day on, I cut everything about him out of my life. Including our child.

On April Fool’s Day, my CEO husband cut out my heart to save his childhood sweetheart's son. After the surgery, he tossed me into a cold rental apartment, where I died in agony. Three days after my death, my five-year-old daughter played in the room as usual. Walking by the sofa, she wrinkled her little nose and mumbled, "Mommy, there's a weird smell in here." She touched my face and murmured, "Mommy, are you pretending to be Snow White? Why are you so pale?" She shook my arm harder and raised her voice, "Mommy, it's my birthday today—get up and blow out the candles!" Confused, she picked up the phone and called her father. “Daddy, did I make Mommy mad? I lit the candles, but no matter how much I call her, she won’t wake up.” On the other end of the call, Patrick Hart’s voice was cold and impatient. “What could possibly be wrong with her? She’s just pretending to be asleep for sympathy. It’s Johnny’s birthday, I’m busy. Don’t bother me! Tell your melodramatic mother to stop playing her little tricks. I don't have time to humor her." My daughter removed the candle from her bun, pinched off a piece of the bun, and fed it to me. "Mommy, I made a secret wish… I really wish you could hold me again, just like before."

It's Family Day at my daughter, Hannah Neel's, preschool, but my wife, Samantha Miller, says she has to work and tells both Hannah and me not to go. Seeing the disappointment on Hannah's face breaks my heart, so I bring her to school anyway. As soon as we step through the gates, I see Samantha. She's holding her childhood friend—Oscar Barnett's—hand, with a little boy clutching her other. The three of them look like a perfect family, laughing and chatting, as if they belong together. When Samantha sees us, her smile fades, and she lets go of Oscar's hand. "Zach, it's not what you think. Oscar's raising his son alone. Today's his fifth birthday, and he just wanted to give him a little taste of a mother's love," she says quickly. I study her for a moment, then kneel and gently take Hannah's hand in mine. "Sweetheart, say hello to the lady."

"One signature. One life-long debt. One night to change everything." Verina thought she could escape her family’s dark past, until the ruthless tech-mogul Silas Vane corners her with a contract she can't refuse. Her father didn't just owe Silas money,he owed him a blood-oath. The deal is simple: Marry Silas for 365 days, endure his cold touch, and play the perfect doll for the media. In return, her family’s sins are erased. But Silas isn't just looking for a wife; he’s looking for the woman who shattered his heart ten years ago. Verina is wearing a dead woman’s face, and Silas is a man who never forgets a betrayal. As the line between hate and heat blurs, Elara realizes the debt isn't money... it’s her heart. And Silas Vane is coming to collect.

Before my grandmother passed away, she set up a will for the kids to inherit her pasta shop. My younger brother, Richard Lane, immediately pushed the responsibility to me so that he could take up a job offer that paid $4,000 a month. No one could have expected a fire to break out at the hotel during one of his trips, causing his entire face to be burned off. Meanwhile, things went great for me after I took over the shop. I fell in love with a billionaire's daughter and found my happily ever after with her. My younger brother poisoned me in a fit of jealousy. After we were sent back in time, my brother immediately chomped at the bit to take over the shop before I could do anything. I scoffed as I rolled my eyes. He was digging his own grave.

Vivian was wheeled out of the delivery room for the third time after a massive hemorrhage. The baby was stillborn. The doctor told her that her womb had been damaged by too many pregnancies. She would never carry another child. Numb and hollowed out, Vivian dragged herself toward the morgue to see her baby one last time, and that was when she saw her husband Ethan standing in the corridor, talking quietly to one of his men. "Don, your wife's baby was a perfect marrow match again. One more extraction and Claire's son will be cured." Vivian froze mid-step, every nerve in her body going still. Then came Ethan's voice, light and almost amused, and it shattered something she didn't know was still whole. His man hesitated, something pained moving across his face,"If Claire's boy pulls through, then losing those three kids was worth it." "Don, if the Donna ever finds out what really happened to those babies…" A cold shudder ran through Vivian, and her eyes locked on Ethan. But the curve of his mouth turned sharp, almost cruel. "She won't. I'll make it up to her, get her pregnant again with a healthy one this time. She'll be too busy with the baby to go digging." "And if she does find out, then what?" "Her mother gave her life for mine. That debt has chained me to her for ten years, and I can barely breathe under it. But now there's someone I actually want to protect. She has no right to stand in the way." Something softened in Ethan's face then, something Vivian had never seen turned toward her. "Claire was my brother's wife, and I'll never forget that he died protecting this family. So protecting his widow and his blood are our family’s and my duty." "She's the only person who's ever made me feel like a husband. Like a father." "I have to take care of her."

My future mother-in-law, Diane Grant, loved setting rules. On the day I proposed, she sat there with that smug, superior look and told me if I wanted to marry her daughter, Olivia Grant, I had to pass her so-called "son-in-law training", which was three months working as a food delivery driver. She said she wanted to test whether I could handle hardship. For my fiancee's sake, I kept my identity hidden. I was the heir to one of the most powerful families in Crestfall City, and I agreed without hesitation. For three months, I shed every trace of privilege. I worked from dawn to night, delivering orders across the city. My parents didn’t understand. My friends disapproved. Mrs. Grant watched me like a hawk, picking me apart every single day. "Three minutes late? That’s a $3,000 penalty. The wedding shall be delayed by a month!" "Wrong unit delivery, bad review? $8,000 penalty. You don’t get to see Olivia this week!" Even then, I never gave up. Until the final day. I received an urgent order with a massive tip. The note was in bold: "Lifesaving medication. Immediate delivery." I sped through the streets, pushing myself to the limit. Just as I was about to enter the residential compound, Mrs. Grant stepped in front of me, blocking my way, her face full of disdain. Her voice shot up sharply. "The wedding gift goes up to $200,000. Not a cent less." I looked at her look of absolute certainty and suddenly laughed. My finger slid across the screen. The recipient of that urgent order was her precious son, Christopher Grant. I slowly put away the unlimited card in my pocket, along with the check I had prepared for a million-dollar wedding gift. Originally, I had planned to reveal my identity that day to give her the surprise of a lifetime. It seemed there was no need.