When Spring Ends Novels & Stories

Vivian Grant lost her memory and forgot everything about me. Her memory stopped in the year when she loved her ex-husband most. No matter how the people around her tried to explain it, she still believed I was the third party who had come between them. The doctors said her amnesia might be treatable, so I held on to that hope and refused to let go. For three years, we got divorced and remarried over and over again. We became the biggest joke in the city's elite circles. Some people even started betting on us. They bet on when I would finally give up, and when Vivian would finally remember. Then news of our eighth divorce hit the trending charts again. Reporters rushed into the law firm with cameras on their shoulders. They shoved microphones in my face, their questions full of provocation. "Mr. Sterling, as a divorce attorney, how does it feel to have been divorced eight times yourself?" The firm's sign was smashed. The commendation banners clients had given me were trampled underfoot. Before I could respond, my supervisor fired me for damaging the profession's reputation. "Julian Sterling, let me give you some advice. Have some self-respect. Stop clinging to Ms. Grant." I clenched my trembling hands and suddenly felt exhausted. They were right. This time, I really should give up.

After giving birth, Belinay Scotch suddenly stopped pretending and began openly sleeping with other men in our bedroom. When I caught her in the act, she showed no signs of remorse. Instead, she mocked me without a care in the world. “The baby’s already here. What can you possibly still use to threaten me now?” Our friends all turned to look at me, afraid that I would throw a fit like I used to. However, this time, I did not yell or make a scene. I simply picked up my daughter and walked out of the room with a calm expression. From that day on, I became the perfect husband she had always dreamed of. When paparazzi came knocking, I paid them off for her. When she had conflicts with her lovers, I helped her resolve them. Then, my daughter’s christening came around. Other men brazenly showed up to force me to leave. Belinay finally could not help but laugh. She joined in with the others to mock me. “How is my ‘good husband’ going to pretend to be gracious this time?” I did not get angry. Instead, I simply turned around and handed the baby to her. “Consider this child my repayment for saving my life back then.”

A lost soul summoned to relive the body of a dying woman finds herself in a quest of unraveling the secrets of her true identity. But what if she finds out that she is only existent in someone else's mind? Retrace the path you've taken. Don't let your mind betray you. Decipher the mystery. This is the life after death story of Lenore.

Three years ago, on the day I married Luca Moretti, he personally handed me a marriage contract with a fixed term of three years. His tone was casual, indifferent, as if he were discussing an ordinary business deal. "This marriage exists solely to serve the alliance of interests between the Morettis and the Vitales. Sign this agreement. After three years, the marriage will automatically dissolve. When that time comes, you can go and pursue your true love." I barely hesitated before signing. Ten years earlier, at an inter-family business gala, when I was ten and Luca was sixteen, I had already fallen hopelessly in love with him. What looked like a strategic alliance was, in truth, the outcome of my decade-long unrequited love. During the three years of our marriage, Luca was attentive and gentle toward me. Over time, I began to believe I was loved. I sank into that illusion, unable to pull myself out, forgetting entirely about the agreement. That illusion was shattered completely on the night of our third wedding anniversary. That evening, Luca arrived with Elena, who had just returned to New York, and attended what was supposed to be our third anniversary celebration together. She stood beside him with ease and composure, smoothly engaging with business partners. People praised her, saying she looked more like the Donna of the Moretti family. In that moment, even though Luca never mentioned the agreement again, I understood clearly that it was time for me to step aside. After breaking free from his control, crossing an ocean to rebuild myself, and becoming a brilliant leader in my industry, I would no longer wait for his love.

I jump into the sea to save Terrence Fletcher. After giving him CPR in front of everyone, the engagement meant for my cousin, Anna Stone, unexpectedly becomes mine. However, Terrence gets drunk on our wedding night instead of spending it with me. I naively believe that if I stay by his side long enough, he'll eventually open his heart to me. Three years later, Anna returns with a child who bears a striking resemblance to Terrence, leaving me stunned. That's when I realized he had been with her on the night he left me alone in our bridal suite. "Annie, I'm sorry for everything you've gone through all these years. I'll take responsibility. I'll make Mabel understand that her place is yours!" I tell Terrence that I'm pregnant as well, hoping it will rekindle his love. But his response makes my blood run cold. "Get rid of it." I'm forced onto the operating table, where two lives end at once. When I open my eyes again, I'm back on the day Terrence falls into the sea. As I see him drenched to the bone, I turn to the crowd and call out for Anna…

While I was five months pregnant, my husband, Randall Harris, accompanied his assistant to the hospital for an IV drip.   He even posted a selfie with her on social media.   I called him, and he lied straight to my face, saying he was stuck in a meeting at the office.   When I confronted him, he fought with me, gave me the cold shoulder, and then went straight back to his assistant for comfort.   “Are you sure you don’t want to notify the baby’s father? The surgeon asked me. “After this surgery, you won’t ever be able to have children again.”  I closed my eyes.  “He’s dead to me.” 

At ten years old, I watched my mom jump to her death in a rainstorm. That same night, my dad brought home a glamorous woman and her nine-year-old daughter. I had feared and hated rainy days since then. My husband once helped me face that childhood trauma, staying by my side through every storm and promising, "Don't worry, Lena, you'll never face your fears alone." But when I refused to pick up his new assistant, he abandoned me on a highway in pouring rain, saying, "Marie is your sister, and you left her out there? Walk home!" That night, the rain never stopped, and I walked thirteen hours along a dark, endless road. That was when I decided I was done with him.

On the night of my wedding, my best friend's younger brother wiped the sweat from his forehead and asked me, “It’s a little big. Can you handle it?” I stared at his perfectly defined abs, my mind going completely blank. “What?” He repeated, “Can you handle it?” My voice jumped an octave from my panic. “Aren't we supposed to take things slow? Isn’t this way too fast?” That night, the sound-activated lights in the house flickered on and off until dawn. Meanwhile, my ex-husband was squatting downstairs. His eyes were swollen red from crying, but I did not even spare him a thought. Back then, when I agreed to let him proceed with a fake wedding with his childhood sweetheart, Miles Carter thought our cold war was over. When he explained things to me, he said, “Vivian and I will only be married on paper. The ceremony is just to satisfy my mom. I swear, when this is over, we’ll live as a real couple.” I remained silent. I just stared at the countdown on my phone, counting the days until I could finally leave. He did not know that the moment he tricked me into signing the divorce papers, our marriage had already ceased to exist.

When I catch Antonio Ragusa in bed with another woman for the ninth time, he doesn't even look afraid. All he does is glance at the time, get out of bed, and hand his jacket to the woman in bed. Then, he looks at me and asks, "What did the doctor say at your prenatal checkup? Why are you back so early?" When he sees me staring at the woman on the bed, he steps forward to block my sight. "I lost control for a moment. She isn't to blame. If you're mad, just take it out on me." Antonio thinks I'm going to react the way I always do—screaming and starting another fight with my face flushed with rage. But he never expects that this time, I simply smile when I hear it. He's probably forgotten that the five-year alliance between our Famiglie is almost over. And when it does, I can walk away for good.

I had spent years paying for Damian Grant’s infertility in every way a woman could. Doctors, treatments, private clinics, and humiliation I swallowed in silence. Then, against every odd, I finally got pregnant. It was the child the Grant family had been waiting for. The miracle Madam Evelyn Grant had prayed for. The one thing Damian had been told he might never have. On the night before our wedding, I saw a local post climbing the trending list. [Another day of being the only girl who gets under my boss’s skin.] In the video, a young woman smiled sweetly at the camera. [My boss is terrifying to everyone else. Cold eyes, bad temper, the whole package. But today, during a meeting, I secretly stepped on his shoe under the table. He actually smiled at me. Then he texted me and told me to behave.] The comments were full of people swooning. [That has to be love. A man like that only softens for one woman.] [Look closely. There must be some little detail on him that belongs only to you.] I scrolled down and saw the influencer’s reply. It was a photo of a dark silver tie clip pinned right over her chest. [This is the gift he gave me. He said whenever I see it, I should think of him.] I stared at that tie clip for a long time. It was the engagement gift I had spent a month polishing by hand for Damian. And inside it, there was still a tiny heart made from his fingerprint and mine.