What To Do For National Girlfriends Day

My three-year-old daughter was playing in the room, and she suddenly fell from the window of the room and died. In my past life, I held her lifeless body after learning the news, crying so hard I thought I would never stop. But when my husband rushed back, he slapped me across the face without a second thought. "How could you be so cruel? You actually threw her out of the window—she was only three!" I was too stunned to react. Later, my husband and my best friend teamed up and testified that I had thrown my daughter from the window because I had an argument with my husband. I was cyberbullied and labeled the "evil mom". Amid the public hatred and the pain of losing my daughter, I jumped to prove my innocence. Even in death, I still didn't understand. My daughter had been fine playing in the room—how did she fall out of the window? When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day she fell.

My marriage to Lucian Hawke was hailed as the most perfect union in the mafia world. As the daughter of the Sinclair family and him being the sole heir of the Hawke family, our marriage united the two most powerful mafia families in the Northeastern. I thought we were unbreakable. Then, I was diagnosed with terminal cancer. As if life couldn’t get any worse, my husband's first love returned—on the very same day. That night, the man I’d been married to for years didn’t come home. The next morning, his voice was cold, distant. Indifferent. “I’ve got the divorce papers ready. When can you come sign them?” I hesitated, struggling to steady my voice. “I’m still at the hospital.” He didn’t even pause. “I don’t care if you're on your deathbed, Elara. Come home and sign the goddamn papers.” My heart shattered, but I refused to let it show. “As you wish, Lucian.” What he didn’t know was that I was dying—literally. A week later, at my funeral, Lucian wearing a tuxedo, weeping at my grave, whispering regrets he should have voiced when I was still breathing. Ironically, my funeral day, was also his wedding day with his sweetheart. But it was too late, my love. This time, you’ll never see me again.

My boyfriend found my menstruation disgusting and forced me to undergo subdermal implantation. From then on, I no longer had periods and couldn’t conceive. One day, I had a fever reaching 40°C and couldn’t contact him. I went to the hospital alone, only to stumble upon him attending a prenatal checkup with his secretary. He told her: “Baby, don’t worry about Claire. She only listens to me here, doesn’t she?” “We can postpone the wedding for another five years. She’s loyal to me like a dog anyway.” “In the meantime, keep fulfilling your end of the arrangement I’ve promised you.” “Of course, I’ll continue loving you... until I’m tired of you.” My heart shattered. I’d proposed to him 43 times in seven years, only to fail every single time. It turned out he just hadn’t gotten bored of me yet? This time, I decided not to wait any longer. I turned my back on him and agreed to the marriage my mother arranged in the countryside. On the day my ex was supposed to accompany me to try on wedding dresses, he found an empty room and a wedding invitation I left for him to celebrate my marriage to someone else. Panic consumed him as his world fell apart...

After the plane crash, my body was never recovered. My soul drifted back to the home I hadn't stepped foot in for five years. They didn't know I was dead. They were still waiting for me to come home for Christmas. When my mom got the call from the airline, she froze for a long time, completely at a loss, before breaking down in tears. I followed them as they went to the memorial crash site. That was when I noticed something strange—I could see their levels of regret hovering above their heads. My brother's regret level read: 40%. My father's showed: 60%. Even my sister-in-law had 30% over her head. But my mother's regret level? It flashed a cold, unchanging 0%.

My best friend's brother and I have been dating for half a year, and she has no clue. My best friend drags me out on Christmas for a singles' night out. Unexpectedly, we see her brother, Chris Lambert, holding hands and kissing a girl under the fireworks. "Damn, Chris finally got the school belle!" She looks thrilled and pulls me forward to say hi. Chris awkwardly rubs his nose and introduces me to his girlfriend, "This is my sister, and the one beside her is… sort of like my sister too." I smile silently. We have held hands and kissed, yet now, I am just sort of like his sister.

Van and Demani's story began like any other typical love story you read in books or watch in movies. They met, fell in love, got married, and planned a future together. They seemed perfect for each other, and their family even called them "the perfect couple." But like any regular married couple, Van and Demani went through a series of arguments and misunderstandings. They had their ups and downs, too. But because they loved each other so much, they tried to get through it all, hand in hand. Until Demani had a miscarriage... and Van cheated on their marriage. From there, everything began to unravel. They couldn’t fix their problems, and eventually, they separated. They went through a bitter breakup, and Demani thought she would never hear from her husband again. Until two years later, Demani received a letter from Van’s lawyer. Van had been involved in an accident and needed surgery in the United States. One of the requirements for him to leave was to have a family member accompany him. And who else could it be but Demani? They were technically still married because Van had never filed for annulment. Despite her doubts, Demani agreed to help. But there was one condition: They would legally separate after the surgery. But Van had other plans...

“It’s just fourteen days. What could possibly go wrong in fourteen days?” With her daughter’s life on the line and nowhere left to turn, Jackie agrees to a fake marriage with a wealthy stranger in exchange for the money she desperately needs. All she has to do is pretend to be his wife for 14 days. What starts as a convenient arrangement spirals into a tangled web of secrets, heartbreak, and betrayal.

Five years ago, Suri ruptured her uterus pushing Bruce out of the path of a car. The injury left her unable to have kids. But Bruce didn't care—he still pushed for the wedding. After they got married, he poured nearly everything into her. Or so she thought. Then came the scandal. One of his business rivals leaked it, and just like that, the truth exploded online—Bruce had another woman. She was already over three months pregnant. That night, he dropped to his knees. "Suri, please. I'll fix it. I won't let her keep the baby..." And Suri? She forgave him. But on their fifth anniversary, she rushed to the hotel Bruce had reserved—only to find something else entirely. In the next room, Bruce sat beaming, surrounded by friends and family, celebrating that mistress's birthday. The smile on his face—pure joy. A smile she'd never once seen from him. That was the moment she knew. It was over. Time to go.

In my sixth year with Nathan Bennett. "Nathan, I'm getting married," I said. He jolted, suddenly snapping back to reality, looking somewhat troubled. "Hannah, you know the company is at a crucial point with our financing. I'm not in the mood to..." “It’s okay,” I replied, my smile calm and composed. Nathan misunderstood. I was getting married, but not to him.

He throws the paper on her face, she takes a step back because of sudden action, "Wh-what i-is this?" She managed to question, "Divorce paper" He snaps, "Sign it and move out from my life, I don't want to see your face ever again, I will hand over you to your greedy mother and set myself free," He stated while grinding his teeth and clenching his jaw, She felt like someone threw cold water on her, she felt terrible, as a ground slip from under her feet, "N-No..N-N-NOOOOO, NEVER, I will never go back to her or never gonna sing those paper" she yells on the top of her lungs, still shaking terribly,