Who Is She A Misty Memory

Edward never realised that a decision to divorce would make him realise the love he has for his wife. When he wanted her back, he was presented with her burned corpse and a piece of her, their daughter. Losing his wife, he lost the colour of life and lived for his daughter only, accepting the punishment that fate had chosen for him. Five years later, he visited Italy to celebrate his daughter's birthday. But the little girl stopped and pointed her finger at a woman, "Look Papa, I found Mommy!" Was it truly her mother? If she is, where she disappeared 5 years ago? Worst, why did the woman look at them strangely?

My wife's gym is celebrating its grand opening, and I drag my buddy along to check the place out with a 9.90-dollar trial class I bought through an e-commerce platform. For the entire time, I never once let it slip that I'm the owner. Right after we finish training, a male coach tosses a price sheet at us. His eyes sweep over us with contempt as he says, "You two look like freeloaders. Our private sessions cost a few hundred each, and we don't offer freebies to people like you." I let out a disbelieving laugh. "We paid for this trial class. How is that freeloading? Go get your manager." He rolls his eyes and makes it seem like he's enforcing a very important rule. "Don't bother looking for the manager. My girlfriend owns this place, and she hates broke losers who try to get free classes." He dials her number right in front of us. His voice sounds both arrogant and pitiful. "Babe, two guys showed up and tried to con us into giving them a free class. They even told me to call the manager. Come over here and show them what's what!"

My adopted daughter, Phoebe Marsh, possessed an evil ability. Whenever she got hurt, the pain would also be inflicted directly on my biological daughter, Maisie Shaw. She deliberately hurt herself, covering her body with wounds and bruises. Then, she would turn around with cold eyes, watching Maisie writhe on the floor in agony until she passed out from the pain. With no medical solution available, I broke down and held Maisie close, begging my husband, Brandon Shaw, to send Phoebe away. However, he would erupt in fury. "It's obviously Maisie who's been faking illness for attention, and you're making up this ridiculous story to get rid of Phoebe. She's just a fragile, helpless child. How can you be so vicious?" After that, Phoebe escalated her self-harm even more viciously. Meanwhile, Maisie spent every day curled up in the corner of her bed, refusing to let anyone touch her. On Maisie's birthday, Phoebe threw herself from the fifth floor. Just as Maisie was blowing out her candles and making a wish, she suddenly began bleeding from all her facial orifices, and she died instantly. Yet, Phoebe only suffered minor scrapes. I died from overwhelming grief shortly after. When I opened my eyes again, I had returned to Phoebe's first day in our home. Maisie was playing with her Legos when she suddenly clutched her ankle and started crying. This time, I grabbed the broom from behind the door and swung it toward Maisie, shouting, "I'll beat you up for faking illness and seeking attention!"

The afternoon my critical condition notice was issued, Silas Stenson popped a bottle of champagne in the lab. On social media, a photo showed him and Wynter Keller standing side by side in the golden sunset, their white coats bathed in light. The caption read only one line—'Ten years—it finally worked.' Everyone said he was devoted, that he'd spent ten sleepless years trying to save me. When the nurse, her eyes red, showed it to me on her phone, I was staring at the wavering lines on the monitor. No one knew that the drug had already been perfected a year ago. And I was the only candidate who wasn't allowed to receive it.

The proud and spirited Evelyn White relentlessly pursued the aloof and cold-hearted Julian Moore, eventually becoming Mrs. Moore as she had dreamed. For Julian, Evelyn, the once-proud princess, lowered her noble head. However, after their marriage, she discovered that he still kept his first love in his heart, an unforgettable shadow from his past. Evelyn became the subject of ridicule among the affluent socialites of Riverdale’s elite circles. One day, a heated argument escalated into a dramatic rooftop scene, captured by someone with ill intent and swiftly posted online, making Evelyn the target of public scorn across the city. When she regained consciousness, all memories of him were gone. Evelyn asked, “Sir, may I ask who you are?” Julian replied, “Eve, pretending to have amnesia is such a cliché. I won’t divorce you.” However, Evelyn really turned and walked away without looking back. Three years later. A little girl with delicate features accidentally fell into Julian’s arms. Seeing the familiar figure that haunted his dreams, Julian instinctively blurted out, “Eve, this is... our child?” Evelyn, holding the arm of a charming and elegant man beside her, smiled and said, “Mr. Moore, let me introduce you—this is the father of my child!”

I bought a breathtakingly handsome and sculpted werewolf slave from the magic black market. His rock-hard abs were on full display, and his deep V-lines pointed straight down into his tight, low-slung pants. But once I got him home, it was clear something was very wrong. A low, suppressed growl rumbled constantly in his throat. He stared at me with his golden wolf eyes, looking like he wanted to tear me apart and devour me whole. His body burned like a walking furnace. I thought he had wolfsbane fever and frantically contacted the seller. The seller was silent for three seconds after hearing my description. [My dear witch, is it possible he isn't sick, but just...hungry?] [The kind of hungry...that makes a werewolf want to pin you to a wall and sink his fangs into your neck to mark you?]

At my wedding rehearsal, my fiancé's colleague, Haley Rhodes burst in and tore apart the carefully arranged decor. "Ryan promised he'd marry me!" she shrieked, storming closer, "Who do you think you are?" Without warning, she lunged, grabbing hold of the wedding gown, which was worth a fortune. But she only got so far—she was too heavyset to even squeeze it past her head. I let out a mocking laugh. "Don't tell me you're too big to fit even a plus-size wedding dress?" That really set her off. With grim determination, she forced herself into the gown. But as soon as she did, the delicate fabric tore, leaving absurdly stretched holes across her back and waist. "Too bad the dress is ruined now. But who cares?" she sneered triumphantly. "Ryan loves me. He’ll buy me another wedding gown, anyway." But when the actual wedding began, she got the shock of her life. The groom walking down the aisle wasn’t Ryan at all. It was their boss — Ryan and Haley's boss. Well, I never said this was my wedding.

For five years, Talia Stewart has poured everything into her marriage without a single complaint or regret. She raises their child, devotedly serves her in-laws, and gives her husband, Christian Lane, all the personal space he wants. But her selfless dedication is rewarded with betrayal when Christian starts keeping a mistress. He buys Nancy York cars, gives her an apartment, gets her a job, kisses and embraces her, and even carries her on his back. To win back her straying husband's heart, Talia decides to try for a second child—a boy this time. Initially, she thinks that if Christian is willing to have a second child with her, it means that he still recognizes her as his wife. But the truth is, Christian only wants Talia to bear his children because he fears Nancy might face risks from childbirth. Talia thinks that even if she loses Christian, she'll still have her daughter for company. But the daughter she raises with such care becomes someone else's precious little girl instead. Finally, Talia's heart breaks completely. She terminates the pregnancy and resolves to get a divorce. She wants nothing more to do with either her husband or her daughter. But during the mandatory waiting period before their divorce can be finalized, Christian, who refuses to come home, suddenly corners her in the living room. "Didn't we agree to have a second child?"

Edwin, loving and loyal husband is stuck with a prostitute in a cheap hotel room. Rosie's eyes prick and her heart is slaughtered when Edwin addresses her ""Fuck you bitch. You whore. How could you?" Rosie had trie dher best to woo him and to give hime the best of his nights, her only incentive being the cash that she could take home with her, but this guy was different. Edwin loved his wife Stella too much to even cheat on her in his dreams. After all Stella was his first love. But there was a lot of trouble in paradise. As fate could have it, Rosie and Edwin bumped into each other a lot of times and Rosie could not help but fall in love with a thorough gentleman, if life could be any less cruel for her love was a forbidden fruit. The home wrecker here works a reverse way out making her customer fall for his wife all over again. Join the journey to see how the home breaker turns into a home mender. Will there be another Love-Triangle? Whose heart is about to break Edwin, Rosie or Stella? Will there be pain , suffering or happy ending? Stay tuned to learn more

When American engineer Evan Hart arrives in Rome, he expects worn stones, ancient architecture, and a chance to quietly rethink his failing marriage. He doesn’t expect Livia Moretti—the enigmatic archivist whose fragile intensity pulls him into a slow-burning, dangerous affair he never meant to start. Livia is brilliant, secretive, and a little broken… and Evan can’t stay away. But when he finally tells his wife Leah he wants a separation, she collapses, claiming she’s been diagnosed with a devastating neurological disease. Overnight, Evan’s guilt becomes a trap. Then Livia disappears without a trace. Anonymous photographs of him and Livia arrive in the mail. A stranger begins watching his apartment. And Leah—sweet, steady Leah—starts behaving in ways he can’t explain. When Evan finds hidden documents and photographs connecting the two women in his life, he follows a clue to a remote coastal village, where he learns Livia once lived under a different name… and may have been running from something far darker than heartbreak. As Evan digs deeper, he uncovers the edge of a conspiracy built on identity, memory, and manipulation—one determined to keep its secrets buried. Someone is pulling strings. Someone is rewriting the truth. And someone wants Evan to stop asking questions. Caught between a wife he no longer understands and a lover who may not be who she claimed to be, Evan is forced to confront the one question he never thought to ask: If the women in his life are wearing borrowed identities… then who has been shaping his? In a story of seduction, deception, and emotional obsession, All the Names She Wore explores the dangerous terrain between love and control—and what happens when the truth becomes the most terrifying lie of all.