When I Grow Too Old To Dream

Cara, a senior Psychology student, has always been haunted by the face of a strange boy from her childhood dreams. As she grows older, the boy is replaced by a mysterious man in her dreams. Determined to understand the connection, she seeks the help of her best friend, a psychologist, to explore the meaning behind these recurring visions. In her waking life, two elusive men capture her attention, but they remain distant. Instead of feeling lost, Cara embraces this mysterious journey, knowing it holds the key to deeper self-discovery. With the support of her friend, she begins to unravel the powerful message her dreams are guiding her toward, realizing that the answers she seeks are within her reach.

I felt my heart tighten in my chest as I watched with horror, my fiancé and my best friend, having sex in the hotel. They were so engrossed and didn’t even care that they were half naked and anyone who cared, could see them from the glass wall of the building’s fourth floor. Sonia was pressed to the wall while Dennis worked her insides from behind. I couldn’t hear her moans but with every second that I imagined it, my heart sank heavily. Tears flooded my face as I flashed into the last two years of my life when I met Dennis. He was everything I wanted and more. Tall, handsome, broad shoulders and chest, I couldn’t stop drooling as he pulled me into a hug. For a moment there, my heart forgot how to beat, and the moment he smiled and introduced himself, I knew I was going to marry him. I had fallen hard in love with him. Freya decided to try love again after several heartbreaks, she thought Dennis was different but reality dawned on her when she caught him cheating with her best friend, Sonia, the same person who matchmade them in the first place. Actually, Dennis wasn’t cheating on her with Sonia, he was cheating on Sonia with her! The two have been dating for over five years, and she never knew. She was the third wheel in their relationship… What will happen now that Freya has found out? Find out in the story!

Zoa McClure is a 16-year-old girl. She comes from a family of 7. An average teenager, with a normal life. She lives in New York with her parents who are attorneys. Her life of normalcy is threatened when she gets kidnapped.... To the rest of the world, she's in a coma with very slim chances of survival. In Zoa's POV, she's in a nation called Charlaedon. Nobody can fathom how she ended up in the middle of the nation's cross-fire. Zoa only remembers bits and pieces of the day's events. The incident resulting in her coma seems to have been forgotten. The war in Charlaedron leaves everyone in a state of disarray. It's up to Zoa and her new friends to fix things.

In the underground casino, my ex-fiancé Don Dante Castellano threw the card in my face. His arm was around Sabrina—his first love—and his eyes were ice as they shoved me toward the table. "Your father owed mine a life. The thing in your belly isn't mine." He pressed the card flat against my cheek. "The daughter pays the father's debt. Tonight you're the living chip on that table." The paternity test was fake. The child was his. I knew. He didn't believe me. That night, with a gun pointed at my head, I took off all my clothes in front of everyone. Two years passed. Two years later, in Vegas, he saw me again. I was in a red silk dress with a gold chain around my neck, the other end of the chain held by a yellow-toothed gambler. "This bitch is cheap. Bark for me, and all these chips are yours." I picked up the chips, practiced. "Woof. Woof." Sabrina pressed her face into his chest, covering her nose. "Dante. This is disgusting. Let's go." He didn't go. The veins rose along his temple. He was staring at the bruises on my knees. Then he kicked the gambler across the room. He bent down and took hold of my chin. Hard. "Sienna. Money, and you'll do anything at all?" He was close enough that I could smell him. Soap. Two years, and still the same soap. I closed my eyes, opened them, pulled my mouth into a smile for him. "That's right, boss. Pay up and I'll cooperate with whatever position you want. Care to buy a round?"

After my husband, Samson Ferrell, receives his year-end bonus, he takes his godsister, Maya Taylors, on a three-month overseas trip. Meanwhile, I'm forced to continue working while taking care of our children on my own. In the middle of the night, when my children catch fevers simultaneously, I have to console my younger daughter with soothing words while wiping my oldest daughters down with a damp towel. My phone doesn't stop buzzing the whole time. From time to time, I receive pictures of Samson and Maya in swimwear while lounging under the Moldave sun. Sometimes, I see photos of them skiing happily in Chwiss. Honestly speaking, if Samson is just a friend of mine, I'll find myself admiring his relaxed and casual lifestyle. Unfortunately, he is my legal husband. My phone screen lights up again. This time, it's a racy picture sent by Maya. "Hey, I heard that you're taking care of the children at home. Well then, I shall take good care of Samson." After saving all of the photos and purchase history, I book an appointment with a divorce attorney. The day of Samson's return to the country will be the day he receives a lawsuit to recover marital assets.

In that little town on the island, there was one family more rich and powerful than the rest, the Dankworths. And Jana knew that all too well. She was a pretty fifteen-year-old girl from the other side of town. Her family were outcasts, nobodies, seen as part of the lowlifes. But even so, she had eyes only for Lawrence Dankworth, one of the Dankworth sons. He became the center of her universe, though she had to keep it a secret. If people ever found out about her ultimate crush on him, she would become the laughingstock of the town. Lawrence held nothing but hatred for her family. It even came to the point where he showed up at their home and ordered them to leave. She was too shocked to comprehend the hatred in his eyes, too stunned as their house burned under his command, before she could even pack what little they owned. They had no choice but to leave the island. But Jana carried the memory of that day deep in her heart. Years passed. And now, she has decided to return.

Restaurateur and self-exiled heir Lucien Lenault's first look at the breathtaking young chef trainee for his trendy Chicago restaurant is a shock. She’s Elise Martin, daughter of a wealthy French fashion designer. She’s also the holder of a secret that could explode his carefully laid plans. Notorious for her flagrant exhibitionism, and for flouting the respectable façade of her aristocratic background, the coquine’s wild streak shocked most people. Not Lucien. He was tempted by it. It was a deliriously punishable offense as far as Lucien was concerned. But taking on Elise is more than a game. She’s a catastrophe waiting to happen, an inferno that’s burned many a lover. Lucien isn’t most men, however, and he won’t allow her to manipulate him. In order to control the defiant beauty—in order to see her submit—he’s going to have to willingly walk in the flames…

{ Choi Dea and Sung-ho } "Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day? Thou art more lovely and more temperate: Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May, And summer’s lease hath all too short a date: Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines, And often is his gold complexion dimmed; And every fair from fair sometime declines...." - by William Shakespeare Choi Dea was in the possession of a position where she never truly wanted to be, just because of her father insisted. Her whole life was existing without love, she never got a chance to meet her mother. One day and within a day, her sister Joo-eun trapped her in a business downfall, she planned it all along. Why would a bastard be the CEO of the top cosmetic company, when the true heir was still alive? Joo-eun did that to her because of hatred and envy. Dea actually never thought about her birth, those feelings never occurred to her. But when she saw her company fall, her cold heart began to quiver, unable to decide between the right and wrong. Due to her close friend's suggestion, she went to meet the Mafia Boss of the underworld, to convince him to help her company regain their shares. Mafia Boss Sung-ho was literally shameless, he had a crush on Dea from the moment he saw her. He decided to help her company and cleared the people who were after her, but the exchange was......... Two people, from two different worlds, both of them didn't want to be from the beginning who they were. The exchange, could Dea be able to give her heart to the Mafia Boss? Or would she backstab Sung-ho and destroy the underworld if she listened to her conscience?

I had been married to Derek for six years, and we had a three-year-old son. He was poor, earning only $2,000 a month, but I had no complaints; I took care of everything at home for him. After getting dinner on the table for the whole family, I finally had a minute to check my phone. A video popped up on my feed: a twenty-two-year-old girl from a rural area whose hands, roughened by years of hard labor, looked like they belonged to a sixty-two-year-old woman. I looked down at my own hands, just as worn and scarred, and stared at them blankly before tapping into the comments. I expected people to feel bad for her. However, to my surprise, the comments section was flooded with a single sentiment: "Why would anyone marry a penniless loser?" One of the top-liked comments came from a couple; in their photo, they were pictured holding hands—fingers tightly intertwined—with the girl sporting a massive diamond ring. The accompanying caption read: "A man who truly loves you would never bear to let you suffer." I felt a pang of envy. Given the choice, who wouldn't want a glamorous life? As I was about to close the app, I accidentally tapped on the couple's photo, enlarging it. In the background, previously too blurry to make out, was a face I recognized. It looked exactly like my husband, Derek Sterling. I froze, and almost against my will, I tapped into the account's profile. Post after post of lavish photos of them together flooded my screen. And then I saw him clearly. The scar above his brow, the one he got when a shelf fell on him while protecting me, was still plainly visible. It was my husband. It was Derek.

In the past, I was Raymond Wright’s wife. Or rather, a prisoner kept in his gilded cage. I was an internationally renowned jewelry designer. Under the spotlight, I had the most dazzling presence. Raymond was the most influential business elite on Floor Street, and he had an extreme desire for control. He claimed to love me, but he never truly loved me for who I was. He was determined to shape me into the “perfect Mrs. Wright” that existed in his imagination. He disliked me having my own social circle and hated it when I appeared in public. I once naively believed that if I were obedient enough, he would eventually recognize my sacrifices. The turning point came at a banquet. Someone there publicly mocked me as “nothing but a canary kept by Mr. Wright.” I could bear it no longer and retorted. Raymond rushed over and coldly scolded me. He said, “Behave yourself. Don’t embarrass me.” At that moment, the surrounding snickers and the disgust in his gaze forced the truth upon me. Ultimately, I fell down the stairs in an “accident” orchestrated by my stepsister. When I opened my eyes again, I was greeted by a warm-toned pendant lamp in the apartment I lived in before I married Raymond. On the desk calendar, a date was circled in red—there were only five days left until my wedding to Raymond. I had returned to the past. This time, I did not want to get involved with Raymond anymore.