We Dont Talk Anymore Chord

"Look, Kristine, there is no need to make a fuss about all of this," Jared finally said, his tone calm and dismissive. He met my eyes with a cold, indifferent gaze, not remorse in anyway. "We have guests downstairs. If you could just go and talk to them, Sophia and I will join you in a bit," he added, waving his hand as if to shoo me away. I scoffed, my hands shaking with anger. "Are you kidding me right now? Is that all you have to say? I just caught you in bed with my sister at our engagement party, and that's all you have to say? Have you lost your mind?" Tears welled up and spilled over, streaming down my cheeks as I clenched my fists in frustration. "You expect me to go downstairs and entertain our guests after catching you with my sister? What is wrong with you?"

On my fifteenth birthday, I begged my mom to teach me how to make a cream cake from scratch. We only had cream at home. No flour. So we went out to buy some. When we came back, we didn't walk into a birthday surprise. We walked in on my father pressing a strange she-wolf down onto the dining table. Cream was smeared all over her bare body. That night ended with my parents signing the Mating Dissolution Agreement. From that day on, cake became my nightmare, a taboo I could never touch. The night I mated with Alpha Kaelen of the Shadow Pack, amidst the pain and pleasure of his marking bite, I whispered in his ear. "Honey, if you ever want to end our mating, just bring me a cake." He frowned, his eyes burning with possessiveness, and kissed the words away. "Don't talk nonsense, Seraphina. You are my fated mate. How could I ever let you go?" Later, on his birthday, his intern secretary Elena ordered a three-tier luxury cake. Kaelen went into a rage, throwing both the cake and the intern out the front door. Back then, I was moved, even telling him not to be so harsh on a low-ranking wolf for my sake. But six months later, Elena had been promoted to Kaelen's personal assistant. On my birthday, she walked into my laboratory, swinging her hips, holding a burnt, homemade cake. I called Kaelen, asking him to remove the provocative item. On the other end of the line,his tone was casual. "Elena put her heart into making that for you. It would be cruel to throw it away. Be a good girl, don't be so sensitive. Have the grace of a Luna." The phone slipped from my hand. It turned out my mother wasn't wrong. Cake really is best served with a side of rejection papers.

"Look, I understand you're married," he replied in the same low, calm baritone while we danced. "But burying your head in the sand does not change the facts. These things are out of our hands, you and I. We can't help what we feel, Keira. We should talk about it and try to resolve it." Resolve? Now he was being blatantly sex.ually suggestive? I was going to respond, but my mouth hung open as a gentle thumb brushed the flesh above my waist. That part of the dress had a small opening... **** On her thirteenth birthday, Kiera suffers an attack that leaves a lasting injury on her wolf and weakens her senses. When her father dies, as the only child, she succeeds him, becoming Luna of the Spring Moon pack despite her secret deformity. But her position and the secret of her wounded wolf are at stake if she remains unmarried. To earn the support of pack elders, her uncle arranges marriage with the most suitable candidate and her teenage crush, Liam Rudd. Despite the imperfections in her marriage, Keira is content with her life. Until their first wedding anniversary. Her husband begins to reveal his true colors while pack elders insist she remains in an unhappy marriage. To worsen the crisis, Alpha Nox, a notorious ruthless lycan, comes into the picture. He claims he's her fated mate, though her injured wolf is not able to confirm this. One kiss, a simple mistake, leads to Keira's undoing. The lycan learns her secret and becomes determined to claim what is rightfully his, no matter the cost. Will Keira be able to protect her pack from ruin and keep her title? What extent is Alpha Nox willing to go to get what he wants?

I’d been dead a month before my family even noticed. It wasn’t concern that brought them to that realization. It was my silence after the so-called “dinner” with Adam Rossi, the infamous mafia boss. My father scoffed like always,“She probably shacked up with that bastard. Too busy spreading her legs to pick up the damn phone.” My sister texted me a photo of them smiling under the Christmas tree, ornaments twinkling like nothing was wrong. Bitch, she wrote. You better talk Mr. Rossi into working with Dad, or you might as well be dead already. And my mother—once the softer one—was now colder than the frost on their windows. “I told you, we should’ve sent Gia to charm Mr. Rossi. Serena always screws things up.” They didn’t think I would die. Not until they found my body—broken, rotten, and forgotten—in Adam Rossi’s basement.

I turn down a dream research program at Hefford University just so I can stay and help my debt-ridden boyfriend run a burger stand. This time, he says he's serious. I give him all the money I've saved up over the years, hoping we can build a better future together. A few hours later, I discover he's forgotten two hundred dollars in the drawer. I grab the money and run out, hoping to catch him. What I catch is a scene straight out of a corny movie. The loan sharks who used to beat and threaten him are now bowing and nodding deferentially. "Sir, I guess we don't need to show up at your house anymore, right?" Kurt Saunders rubs his temples and replies, "Yup. Anna gave up her entire future for me. She even turned down an opportunity to study at Hefford just to help me pay off my debts." Before he even finishes, his childhood friend lets out a giggle. "Kurt, that's still not enough. You'll only know if she really doesn't mind being poor if she sticks around through a year of flipping burgers without any complaints." Kurt looks at her sly expression and lets out a helpless laugh. "Alright, we'll do it your way. One more year of pretending. Anna would never leave me anyway." I stand there, listening to the sound of my own heart shatter. Kurt, you think I'm giving up my future for you, but it's still mine, and I can take it back.

Everything comes crashing down as my eyes widen into his. Both of our breathing labored but his hands not releasing me. “Grace.” He says breathlessly. That name is all it takes to wake me up. ‘Grace’ I’m not Grace. He thinks I’m someone I’m not. I shouldn’t be doing this when he doesn’t even know who he’s with. I scramble off of him and stand in the middle of the room panting. I can see him start to fumble, standing up and walking towards me. I look up at him, my eyes wide. “I’m so sorry. We shouldn’t… We shouldn’t have done that.” I stammer out and he looks at me shocked. Walking towards me like I’m a trapped animal he’s scared is going to run away. “Why, Grace? Why shouldn’t we have done that? Please, just talk to me.” I can hear the pleading in his voice, the fear that I didn’t want him to kiss me, but that’s not it. I don’t know why. Why I’m so scared to just tell them the truth, so I decide to lie. “I’m sorry, Gunner. I like all three of you. I’m not going to choose, so I’ve just decided I wouldn’t be with any of you. It’s not fair to you guys.” I don’t wait for him to respond, I run out the door and down the steps, landing face first in Dean’s chest. He pulls me up and wraps my legs around his waist causing me to gasp. “Who said we’d make you choose, Bambi?” And before I can respond his lips are on mine.

Maynard Hansen planned a luxury birthday cruise for Darlene Thompson, but the cruise ship capsized when a violent storm swept in without warning. Without hesitation, Maynard gave the last seat on the lifeboat to Darlene. As I struggled in the water, my son, Waldo Hansen—whom I carried for nine months and gave birth to—cried out, "Don't let Mom up! She'll push Ms. Thompson off." Clutching nothing but a broken plank, I somehow made it to shore. By the time I collapsed on the sand, I was frozen, exhausted, and done. I had never felt so alone. Shortly after, I found myself clutching a diagnosis of severe depression in my hand. I was ready to bring this wretched life to a quiet end. But when my husband and son realized I truly didn't want to live anymore, they collapsed into tears. They wrapped their arms around me as they sobbed, "Please don't leave us. We really can't live without you."

It has always been him, he was my first love, and so, I had to let him go. He wasn't made for this life. He, was made for greater things. He was too much of a tornado for this small town, that doesn't mean I miss him any less. It's been 9 years since we last saw each other. Nine years of hatred on his part and self-loathing on mine, why did I let him go? Now, he is a successful billionaire, living the life one could only dream of. I wish things were different now that he's back but that just seems like a foreign concept to him. He doesn't want me anymore, but I can't blame him either. It was me who broke us and it is going to be me who will put all the pieces back together. Even if it is the last thing I do before death comes knocking at my door.

"No, way! I don't want Heaven to marry that guy Tita, Tito!" I'm kinda shock when Ethan spoke, I didn't expect him to speak like that. "And I don't want Ethan to marry that girl Tita, Tito!" Mom and dad look disappointed. "Why are you always against each other's marriage? Are you two--" I don't know why I suddenly think of this right now but I don't care anymore! "W-We have a relationship! I love Ethan that's why I don't want him to marry another girl!" I turned my gaze to Ethan, he looked shock but then he suddenly held my hand. "Y-Yeah, Heaven is right, mom! We love each other that's why I don't her to marry him! The girl I want to marry is Heaven!" "WHAT??" "I thought you two are just friends..." "Best friend..."

During the third year of our marriage, my husband's ex—whom he dated for eight years—suddenly shares a photo of a ten-million-dollar marital home on her social media. It's captioned, "I've finally gotten a mansion! Who's the best at dating? I am!" I gape at the image—I see my husband swiping his card at the real estate sales office in a corner of the photo. I leave a question mark in the comments. In the next second, my husband calls me to tell me off. "I'm just making good on a promise I made her when we were dating—to buy her a marital home. Why did you have to go insult her like that? Are you evil enough to turn me into a man who goes back on his word?" That evening, his ex shares another photo of a million-dollar renovation bill. I know it's a gift from my husband to appease her, but I don't care anymore…