We Were Meant To Be Together

On my girlfriend's birthday, I was in the middle of preparing a surprise for her when the property management office of our marital home called first. "Sir, we've received a complaint from another resident," the staff member said. "They claim there's been… quite a bit of noise coming from your unit at night. From you and your wife." I frowned. The only person I had given a key to that apartment was my girlfriend. I called her immediately. She answered with a soft, teasing tone, "They must have made a mistake. I'm at my best friend's place." "Alright," I said evenly. "Enjoy yourself." After hanging up, I opened the smart home system without hesitation and remotely locked every door and window from the outside. Then I dialed the police. "Hello, I'd like to report an unlawful entry."

“Sign it.” Axton’s calm voice echoed in the room. The kind of calm that made silence deafening. He pushed the divorce papers across the polished desk, his expression cold and composed. The pen rolled until it stopped in front of her hand. Isla’s fingers trembled slightly as she picked it up. The golden ring on her finger glinted under the office light, a cruel reminder of everything that was about to end. Three years of marriage, three years of smiles and unspoken tenderness, now reduced to a signature line. They had never married for love, binded by a contract signed for convenience, destined to expire the moment it no longer served its purpose. And yet somewhere along the way, Isla had forgotten it was only temporary.

She was reborn soft, sweet, and touched — surrounded by women who never learned to let go. Evangeline “Eva” Claire Maxwell — Lioré was once a brilliant, overworked woman from a cold, futuristic world. When exhaustion finally claimed her, she didn’t expect to wake up as a baby in the arms of luxury — a second chance in a modern world where time moved slower, kisses came warmer, and desire wore velvet gloves. In a world without magic, desire is its own spell. And love? It’s the most dangerous kind of possession.

I once made a promise to the top actress in the industry. If I publicly proposed to her 99 times on livestreams, she would, on the hundredth, officially launch our relationship. But when the hundredth proposal came, she was on a private yacht kissing a new rising actor. Her smile had been so sweet and carefree. I became a complete joke. Feeling guilty, she texted me: [I will say yes on your 101st proposal.] She entered my livestream, looking like a goddess had descended to earth. As she looked on, I lit all one hundred love letters I had ever written for her, as well as the stomach cancer diagnosis I had hidden inside. “There will be no 101st time, Miss Ford.”

On the night of our engagement banquet, Mandy Sutton's boyfriend, Lenard Johnson, sends my fiancee, Sarah Lindt, a video clip of him jerking off. It also comes with a text message. "Using my hand doesn't feel good at all. I miss your tight little mouth." I want to call that jerk on the spot and cuss him out. But Sarah, who has flown into a state of panic, quickly stops me out of anger. "Are you dumb? It's obvious that Lenard has sent all of these things to the wrong person! He's my best friend's boyfriend, for crying out loud! There's nothing going on between us! Must you be so paranoid, Jonathan? "You're the one that's oozing negativity and dark thoughts, so stop assuming that everyone else is the same as you! Put that jealousy of yours away and stop embarrassing me already!" To think that Sarah is actually accusing me of being jealous and paranoid when she's the one who has cheated on me behind my back! I merely chuckle coldly before forwarding the video clip to our mutual college group chat. At the same time, I've withdrawn my sponsorship from Sarah's company. I'm quite curious, though. Without the support of a jealous, embarrassing man who has zero confidence like me, just how long can Sarah maintain her image as a strong and independent businesswoman?

Dylan Edwards, a wealthy CEO, broke off his relationship with Cassidy Aarvi six years ago and pressured her into signing divorce papers. However, Dylan had mistaken Cassidy for someone else that day, and she could not correct the misunderstanding. Cassidy is now a single mother to two delightful five-year-old children who are curious about their father. Her primary aim is to uncover the truth about their parentage and possibly reconnect with the man she was mistaken for. Can the children discover the identity of their father? What creative plans will they come up with to accomplish their mission?

At the celebration where Lorenzo Alvarez is crowned the new mafia boss, his men arrange a few performances. A dancer in a backless top and short skirt twists around the pole under the lights. "Don't look," he murmurs, covering my eyes with his hand. "This kind of cheap entertainment isn't worthy of you." His men jump in immediately. "Lorenzo still spoils Ms. Valenti after all these years. That kind of devotion is rare. We're so jealous." "A man as loyal and single-minded as Lorenzo is hard to find." I rest a hand on my belly, planning to tell him tonight that I am pregnant. But when I return from the restroom, I see the same man who had just held me in his arms leaning back in his chair while the dancer straddles his lap. Lorenzo slips his business card and a thick fold of cash into the waistband of her skirt. He laughs, relaxed and unbothered. "Isabella is wonderful, sure, but life needs a little passion. This ragazza is just something new. A bit of fun. "Keep your mouths shut. Don't go running to Isabella and upset her. Otherwise, you'll have a problem." Cold rushes through me. I do not approach or confront Lorenzo. I simply take out my phone and answer the email I have been avoiding for days. "I agree to participate in the confidential experiment."

What do you do when the only safe place left belongs to the man who’s been lying to you? I’m twelve weeks pregnant with my abusive ex’s baby. He's been tracking my phone, controlling my life. And when I finally run, there's only one door left to knock on — his best friend's apartment. Jeremy took me in. No questions. No judgment. Just his bed, his quiet presence, and one reckless lie: at the hospital, he'll say the baby is his. For the first time in years, I feel safe. But I’m starting to realize: the man who saved me might be the reason I needed saving. Because Jeremy’s been in love with me for three years—and he never said a word. Because my best friend Reina has been sleeping with Ryan behind my back—and she’s not done destroying me yet. Because Ryan just found out about the pregnancy—and he’s coming for his child. The question is: can I survive the truth—or will it destroy me faster than Ryan ever could?

Born as the Duke's most exquisite daughter, Triana grew up as an innocent, spoiled girl. However, she realizes that her beauty is the reason for all the happiness she has gotten so far. Thus, she asks a witch for an eternal beauty. As a condition from the witch, Triana must give a torture potion to a vampire who has been confined in a hidden castle. Vlador, the last descendant of King Dracula, survived the war but was chained in magic, forgotten, and starving. Triana's deception grants her the timeless beauty she craves, but it also plunges her into a nightmarish reality. When Vlador's chains shatter and he thinks she will be his prey, a strange and perilous connection emerges between them. "You two have the same arrogance. Isn't 'Eat or be eaten' a principle of your lives? Now, suffer together in my curse!" Their hearts beat as one, each reliant on the other for their very existence. Triana must quench her thirst with Vlador's blood to stay alive, while he battles his insatiable craving for hers.

My roommate won first prize in the national lottery, a full 100 million dollars. She quit her job on the spot, blocked her boss, and said to me, "Amanda, from now on, we'll live in Luxuria Heights, eating the best food and living it up." We went on shopping sprees at Hermès and treated Michelin restaurants like our daily canteen. On moving day, she told me to go ahead to the top-floor luxury apartment and wait for her. She said she needed to pick up a package. Excited, I entered the password she had given me. "Beep. Incorrect password." I was just about to try again. Then, the door opened. The person who came out was not my roommate but a stranger in a suit. He looked at me and frowned. "Who are you? Why do you have the password to my home?" I was stunned. "This is Lydia Zaydn's apartment. Who are you?" The man's expression turned strange. "Lydia Zaydn? I've lived here for five years. I've never heard of that name."