Who Does Meredith Grey End Up With Season 19

I was betrayed by my fiancé and best friend on the day of our wedding. The very next day, I was auctioned off to pay for my family’s debt. Sold. Helpless. Alone. And then I met him— The man they call the devil. The one I never imagined I could love. The same man who vowed to destroy me. Bound by vengeance and hatred, can I ever escape the cage he built around me?

Judith suddenly inherits a magnificent big house. Fearing loneliness, she looks for friends to spicy her life. She attracts them easily and then, she places a small ad on the Internet looking for a fifth roommate. What if things got complicated again? Judith does not like simplicity, and that is the least you could say!

A housemaid who doesn’t care about love. A billionaire used to being in control. And one unexpected night… that leads to marriage?! Roxane Hermenez is a simple woman: work, home, sleep, repeat. Her dream? To save money, leave her job as a maid, and give her family a better life. No time for romance—especially since her boss is Dark Nathaniel Villamonte—rich, arrogant, and annoyingly meticulous. But one night, due to strange circumstances, a glass of wine, and a broken elevator… something happened. And when Dark Nathaniel found out that there might be a “possible consequence” from that night, he didn’t hide— He insisted on getting married! “I can’t just ignore my responsibility. A civil wedding will do!” Now, Roxane is panicking. What kind of woman gets proposed to by her own boss?! But wait… if it’s just about responsibility, why is Dark starting to become possessive, sweet, and jealous? Is love really starting to bloom? Or maybe… the billionaire just wants to play with her? Where will Roxane’s feelings for her handsome boss lead her if he keeps pursuing her despite all the opposition against what he’s doing?!

My boyfriend’s cousin went to live at his place after her divorce. Not only did she have a five-year-old, but she was even pregnant. She regarded my boyfriend as her support as if it were her right and blamed me for everything. She thought I had taken away her cousin. At a family gathering one day, her son splashed a drink at me and yelled, "You’re not allowed to steal my dad!"

YOLO! You only live once.That is my motto in life. I don't care about what other people would say and think about me. I am me. And others' opinions don't matter.I am Alexa Lopez, Alex for short. Everyone calls me by that name, including my parents. I am a proud lesbian and I am lucky that my parents accept me for who I am but sometimes my mom still wishes that I will wake up to my senses one day and meet a man.Me? Meeting a man? Yuck!I heard many times from my friends and some relatives that I look pretty. They said I have a good body and they are sure that if I am a straight girl, many boys will chase after me.But that will never happen. I am not pretty, I am handsome.I am 17 years old, still a teenager and young as they say but I am already mature. I already had 3 girlfriends in the past and all of them were head over heals at me. I can't blame them, I treated them nicely and I did my best to be a good partner for them, giving them gifts, accompanying them when they go shopping and help them with their studies. I sometimes even do their homework and their projects.I am the only child in my family and I must say we are financially stable. My dad is a lawyer and my mom is a dermatologist.I am currently a senior high school student in Mary Poppins International School and I am also one of the varsity players of the women's basketball team. I am quite famous I must say.It may seem that I have everything, but inside this tough person is still a fragile lady.

Upon hearing about my husband's surgery, I braved a typhoon and torrential rain, driving four hours back to the city. When I arrived at the hospital, my husband, Xander Gray, was lying on the hospital bed, calling out loudly, "I want my wife! Get my wife here!" His buddies around him joked about how his wife had him completely whipped. Everyone said he loved me to death. Blushing, I walked over with a happy smile and held his hand, saying, "I'm here." To my surprise, he shook off my hand in disgust and snarled, "Get lost! You're not my wife! My wife is Beverly Long!"

My bride went missing on the night of our big day but woke up in my brother's room the next day. My parents persuaded me to ignore it for the sake of fame but scolded my wife as an easy girl. Angrily, I moved out of the villa with my wife. Soon after, my wife had a miscarriage and suffered from depression due to gossip. She jumped off from the top floor in front of me. Desperately, I followed her. Opening my eyes again, I found myself back to the time when the wedding ended.

When I was seven years old, a handsome man Mom brought home gave me a box of mangoes. That day, Dad watched me happily eating the mangoes as he signed his name on the divorce agreement. Then, he jumped to his death. From that day on, mangoes became a lifelong nightmare for me. So, on our wedding day, I told my wife, Irene Johnson, "If you ever want a divorce, just give me a mango." She held me without saying a word. From that moment on, mangoes became forbidden for her as well. … On the fifth Christmas Eve after we got married, Irene's childhood sweetheart, Steven Carter, placed a mango on her desk. That same day, she announced that she was cutting ties with him and fired him from the company. That day, I felt that she was the woman destined for me. ... Six months later, I return from overseas after closing a billion-dollar deal. At the celebration dinner, Irene hands me a drink. After I drink half of it, Steven, the man who was kicked out of the company, stands behind me and grins. "Is the mango juice good?" he asks. I look at Irene in disbelief, but she is holding back a laugh. "Don't be mad. Steve insisted I play a joke on you. I didn't give you a mango, just a bottle of its juice. "But I think Steve is right. There's something wrong with you for not eating mangoes. Look at how much you enjoyed it just now!" she says. I keep a cold expression, raise my hand, and splash the remaining mango juice onto her face. Then, I turn and walk away. Some things are never a joke. Mangoes aren't, and neither is my decision to divorce.

Everyone loved my older sister. When the novel I wrote shot to popularity, she got jealous and suddenly proclaimed that she wanted to be a popular author too. My older brother, who was the editor-in-chief, immediately announced that I plagiarized my sister's story at my book signing and she ended up becoming the genius author while I got cyberbullied so much that I was too scared to leave the house. After I got married to a young heir from high society and lived a happy life, my sister told me that she had a crush on him for years and wanted to be his bride at least once in her lifetime. He did not even think twice about divorcing me and holding the wedding of the century with my sister. My family was afraid that I would sabotage their relationship, so they made me leave the country. However, my sister did not think that I was miserable enough. She came for me outside the country and pushed me down the stairs. I was lying in a pool of blood when my mother rebuked me, "Did you say something that made your sister unhappy again?" That was how I died in despair. When I opened my eyes again, I had returned to the day my brother accused me of plagiarism.

My roommate had a strange obsession with taking cold showers on the balcony. She claimed it helped detox her body and brightened her skin. I warned her, “You should be more mindful of your privacy.” However, she only laughed, accusing me of being jealous of her flawless figure. Then, disaster struck. Her shower photos were leaked online, and soon after, thugs showed up at our door, demanding to humiliate her. Instead of taking responsibility, she turned on me. “It’s her! She’s the shameless one showering on the balcony!” Betrayed and defenseless, I was dragged into the woods and left to die, my life snuffed out in humiliation and pain. But when I opened my eyes again, I was back on that fateful day—the day my roommate took her first cold shower on the balcony.