What The Fireflies Knew Novels & Stories

Yasmine Katz fell into an arranged marriage with Leonardo, instead of love, she got cruelty in place. However, it gets to a point where this marriage claimed her life, now she is back with a difference, what happens to the one who caused her pain? When she meets Alexander the president, there comes a new twist in her life. Read What happened in Eastcliff to learn more

Aria had it all—prestige, ambition, and a picture-perfect future. But nothing scorched her more than the heartbreak she never saw coming. Years later, with her life carefully rebuilt and her heart locked tight, he walks back in: Damien Von Adler. The man who shattered her. The man who now wants a second chance. Set against a backdrop of high society, ambition, and old flames that never quite went out, For What Still Burns is a slow-burn romantic drama full of longing, tension, and the kind of chemistry that doesn’t fade with time. He broke her heart once—will she let him near enough to do it again? Or is some fire best left in ashes?

There's a saying that circulates among anglers: "If a dead fish still takes the bait… reel in and leave." The day I went fishing with my dad, we ran into exactly that. What unsettled me was not the fish. It was the look on my dad's face: an excitement that felt completely wrong. Then a message flashed across my livestream, and a chill ran down my spine. [Get out. Now. Your dad is about to trade your life for the one who died in this river a year ago.]

At a college reunion, a few drinks turned into a game called the Best Wife Challenge. The rules were simple: each man had to call his wife and ask for $100,000 to buy a car. Whoever got the money first won. As expected, I was the first. "Gideon, we're seriously jealous of you. You've got money, freedom, and the perfect life." The table erupted in laughter, everyone quietly avoiding the memories we all shared. Like how Josephine Strickland and I had been together for eight years but never made it down the aisle. Like how she left for graduate school overseas, and I was the last person to find out. Trying to catch her before her flight took off, I got into a car accident that left me blind for three months. Even during the darkest period of my depression, it was my friend Brady Campbell—not her—who stayed by my side. I smiled and let the jokes continue. Then I noticed Brady gripping his phone so tightly his fingers had gone white. "I'll pass. She's busy with work, so she probably won't answer." The room fell silent. Everyone knew Brady had been secretly married for three years and had a three-year-old son. Yet not a single one of us had ever met his wife. Worried that he was being strung along, I snatched the phone from his hand and dialed the number myself. The call connected instantly. Then a familiar voice came through the speaker. It was Josephine. "Honey, I'm picking up our son from school right now."

My husband was like a broken record. His answer was always the same. "I can't leave." On our wedding anniversary, he said he couldn't leave because he had to take Natalie Rivers out and cheer her up. When I miscarried, he couldn't leave because he had to take Natalie to therapy. Even when my mother died, he still gave me the same answer. "I really can't leave. Natalie's depression has come back, and she can't be alone." Still weak after my miscarriage, I kept vigil alone for three days. That was when I finally understood. To him, neither our baby's life nor my mother's life mattered. My relatives were shocked to see me handling everything alone. "Josh really isn't coming?" After saying my final goodbye to my mother, I stood up and answered calmly. "No. He doesn't have that obligation anymore."

The housekeeper, who was always punctual, was late today. "Madam, I'm so sorry… dinner isn't ready yet. Please don't be upset with me…" "But this time, there was no helping it. I waited downstairs for over half an hour, and no one swiped in. I even called Mr. Gregory, but he didn't answer. That's why I'm late." My hand froze mid-motion as I was changing shoes, and a frown creased my brow. "Lydia," I said, "didn't I have Richard give you the access card?" Lydia Pendel froze, her face blank. "Access card? Mr. Gregory never gave me one." "Never?" I repeated. "Yes," she said, wiping the sweat from her forehead, her voice careful. "All this past month, I've been sneaking in whenever another resident opened the door, or calling Mr. Gregory so he could let me in. "Today, Mr. Gregory didn't answer at all, so I was stuck downstairs, feeling helpless…" That was strange. Because over the past month, the electronic lock on the front gate had clearly recorded swipes from that backup card.

"Hatred is still an emotion, sweetheart," I murmured, stepping closer. "That means you still care." Forced into a marriage with the man who despises her family, Isla vows to resist him. But Dante is a man who always gets what he wants, and what he wants… is her. As secrets unravel and enemies close in, Serena finds herself trapped in a dangerous game of power, revenge, and an undeniable attraction she can't escape. Because in Dante’s world, love isn’t gentle. It’s a war. And Serena is about to learn—when the Don wants something, he takes it.

[ ғʀɪᴇɴᴅs ᴛᴏ ʟᴏᴠᴇʀs - ᴄᴏᴍᴘʟᴇᴛᴇᴅ ] Emily Willows longs for passion, but only with the man of her dreams: the brilliant, warm and dashing Edward Jones. If only her oblivious, dreaming neighbour can stop with all his gentlemanly-ness and just pin her into the nearest solid obstacle available. And then, perhaps encircle her whimpering body into the solid rippling confines of his warmth- But no, he would not. He could not. As they’ve been best friends for, well, ever. And that's why it becomes extremely challenging for her when he asks her the biggest favour he could ever ask. The one favour she was sure no friend would ever ask their own. The one she was sure to lose herself to. The one she knew she shouldn’t say yes to. But it would indeed be the one to make her crazy all the same. Oh, dammit, all to hell. ~ritikablush.Copyright StarryRitika 2020

My request to transfer back to the headquarters was once again rejected in my sixth year on the frontline. The official reason was that spouses were not allowed to work in the same hospital, supposedly to prevent workplace romance. The reason failed to convince me. I secretly returned to Kingsfield, hoping to get an answer from my superior. … Outside the office, I overheard the conversation between him and my husband, George Durand. My superior started, "You have been keeping Ivy's application on hold over the last five years for Mia, but Ivy is hitting the age limit next year. This is her last chance to be transferred back." George's expression did not change. "That position has to go to Mia. Ivy can stay where she is. Mia has a promising future. She can't lose this opportunity." My superior argued back, "Staying at headquarters is Ivy's dream too. You manipulated me into sending her to the frontline, and then you kept blocking her transfer requests. "As for Mia, she failed her assessment. Without your protection, she would've been dismissed long ago. Are you really going to keep covering for her?" Anger contorted George's face. "Everyone knows Ivy is my wife! Nobody will pick on her! Unlike her, Mia doesn't have a special background. She won't survive the battlefield. I'll take Mia under my wing and train her personally. Nobody is touching her without my permission." I called the lawyer with tears in my eyes. "Please prepare the divorce papers for me," I said. "As soon as possible." I let five years of my life go to waste, only to discover that George had found another woman. Since there was no more love between us, I would stop clinging to him.

I've been married to the prince of the underworld for ten years and have endured countless life-or-death situations by his side. My hands, once trained to play the piano, are covered in calluses from holding guns and stained with blood. But at 28, my husband ends up falling for a young woman from the slums. She's as delicate and pure as a chamomile. She's his well-kept little secret—until I run into them at the woman's prenatal appointment one day. I storm up to him, demanding an explanation, only for him to nonchalantly hand me divorce papers. "Sonia is a devout follower of the church and can't have a child before marriage. I must make an honest woman out of her. Sign these, and you'll get 40% of the company's shares." I refuse to do as told, so he corners me. In the end, he has my crippled younger brother tied up and forced under a hydraulic compression machine. "Sign the papers, Maeve, or watch your brother become a human mince pie. The choice is yours." I fall on my knees and beg him to stop. As the machine turns on, my hands fly to my aching lower belly, and I scream as I lose consciousness. When I wake up again, I'm back in the hospital, in the same spot where I ran into my husband and his mistress at her prenatal appointment. This time, I don't confront him. Overnight, I make arrangements with a sanatorium abroad, get divorced, and run away from home. Yet the moment I truly disappear, my husband loses his mind.