Who Is The One That Got Away About

The last place Ava expected to see her ex-husband was the hotel bar on a rainy Thursday night in Manhattan. She froze the moment her eyes found him. Ethan Mitchell looked older. Broader. More tired. But the way he stood, one hand wrapped around a glass he had not touched, was painfully familiar. For a second, the noise around her faded. The laughter. The music. The clinking glasses. All she could hear was the echo of a life she once lived. She should have turned around. Instead, she walked closer. “Ethan.” He looked up, and whatever calm he had shattered instantly. “Ava.” Her name sounded different on his lips. Softer. Careful. Like something fragile. “I didn’t know you’d be here,” he said. “I didn’t either,” she replied, her voice steady even though her heart was not. They stood there, strangers tied together by memories too heavy to name. The divorce papers. The last argument. The silence that followed. “Do you want to sit?” he asked after a moment. She hesitated. Then nodded. It was supposed to be harmless. Just a drink. Just conversation. Just closure. But as the night stretched on, the distance between them shrank, and Ava realized something terrifying. Some loves do not die. They just wait. And that night, neither of them walked away. This is a story full of twist and emotions will the come back together after all these years of separation ? Or will they cheat on both of there spouses.

During the award ceremony at our annual dinner, my boss, Hank Reid, suddenly announced an impromptu addition to the agenda. “Annual department competition! The department that ranked last has to come up and receive a little award of motivation!” The screen lit up. They scrolled through all the departments’ results. The sales department got first place, the operations department got second place, and the marketing department got third place. However, there was nothing from the administration department. That was because the administration department did not have KPIs. Hank smiled at us. “Let’s welcome our colleagues from the administration department to come up and receive their awards!” Two of my colleagues carried a whole basket of brooms onto the stage. Everyone was laughing. “You should sweep away your bad luck from last year. Let’s hope you won’t get last place again next year!” Hank personally passed the brooms to all of us. Cameras flashed as people took photos of us with their phones. The sales department was laughing the loudest. “Finally, the administration department has some recognition!”

My boyfriend did not like my big chest. He gave me five hundred thousand dollars to go for a breast reduction surgery. At the same time, a mystery man suddenly transferred me five million dollars with a note telling me not to listen to my boyfriend. I gripped my phone tightly and secretly replied to my boyfriend’s best friend’s text message. [If you want me to listen to you, money is not enough.] He immediately texted back. [What are you saying? I don’t understand.] I replied. [Forget about it. I’m heading to the hospital now.] As expected, he got anxious. [What else do you want?] [Do you have 7 inches?] [I have 10 inches.] [I won’t believe you until I see it for myself.] After that, he proved it to me through his actions.

"Who are you?" My fated mate held a silver blade to my throat, looking at me with the eyes of a stranger. Four years ago, a witch erased me from Alpha Nash’s mind and rewrote his reality. To him, I am dead, and another woman wears the Luna crown. I returned to the pack not to reclaim my title, but to save my son. Nash sees me as a filthy rogue. He tortures me. He scorns me. He has no idea that the secret I’m hiding in the shadows is his own flesh and blood—a son with magic powerful enough to bring the world to its knees. The curse breaks with a single touch. But with a dark witch hunting my child for a deadly ritual, and Nash’s memories buried under a mountain of hate, time is running out. If he doesn't remember me soon, he will be the one to kill us both.

I suffered critical injuries that left me in a persistent vegetative state when I tried to rescue my wife, Regina Livingston, from her abductors. Regina spares no expense, spending millions of dollars to bring in the best medical experts in the country to treat me. She watches over me every single night, never weary of caring for me. Four years into my coma, I overhear a conversation between Richard Sutherland—a man I don't know—and Regina. "You've done all you can, Regina," he says. "You don't owe him anything anymore." Regina remains silent. Then, a young boy, Franklin Sutherland, suddenly asks, "Mommy, why do you always visit this man? Who is he?" I'm instantly shocked. Regina and I don't have a child together. I'm completely bewildered, and just as I try to figure it out, I suddenly wake up from my coma.

They bullied her… till she died. Adeline had life rough as a kid. The people who were supposed to be family treated her like trash, like she didn’t exist . Now they managed to get rid of her, or so they think … She is in a form they will never recognize planning her just revenge. The only problem being that the mate of the woman she is pretending to be is starting to suspect her. And he is not a nice guy .

It was a season that felt like heaven was frowning at her, Tracy, trying to recover from an abusive relationship which eventually crashed while being pulled into the anguish of her dying sister which added a major weight on her life , facing a difficult financial challenge so her life can be saved. It could only get worse , serving as a maid under a rich boss lady, Mrs Ava who has a touch of fierce and unmerciful ideology. Things took a turn just overnight when Mark, the only son of Mrs Ava decided to bite his mom's foot by proclaiming a facade of affection for Tracy out of the blue at a dinner right in her presence and her guests , giving a deep romantic kiss. All this was due to his mom stomping his head by trying to merge him with Chloe in a marriage he doesn't have any interest in. Tracy shocked, the whole table burning in rage and sinking in disappointment, it was meant to be a night where Mark would meet his spouse to be and her family, but he used Tracy as a Decoy to burst the bile in the meat and the whole table was displeased For Tracy, she couldn't believe her eyes as the whole scenario led to further dismaying scenes in her life. Mark proposed a contract marriage with all of her needs being met at the expense of her signature after, and Tracy capitalized. It was a blessing at first, but she isn't prepared for what is coming. An endless warfare of which she was no match for, a marriage likened to a punishment, scandals, block sucking enemies who go all the way for their wants and a life full of discoveries

On our third wedding anniversary, I brought a gift to my husband’s office. Walking past the secretary's suite, I stopped dead. A king-size bed had been set up inside. A young woman in a designer dress was sprawled across it, a handheld game console in her hands, surrounded by imported snacks of every variety. "Kevin, the lunch you ordered yesterday was pre-packaged meals. Marcus and I both felt sick after eating it. Today, make sure it's from The Palace Hotel." Kevin -- my husband's personal assistant -- bowed and scraped before her, his face a mask of obsequious flattery. "Mrs. Thorne, please don't worry. Mr. Thorne made it very clear -- everything should be tailored to your preferences and the baby's. He knows you love the chef at The Palace Hotel, so he set up a standing VIP account for you. Anything you want, anytime." She was Mrs. Thorne? Then what exactly was I? My brow furrowed. I glanced down at the wedding ring I'd worn for years. The girl beamed, radiant. "For the baby's arrival, my husband is throwing a lavish yacht party. Every important person in New York is getting an invitation. I want the whole world to know that I'm the love of his life, and that our son will be blessed by the most powerful people before he's even born. The champagne and flowers must be the finest available -- no budget limit. Our child is going to have the best of everything from day one." I stared at the gentle swell of her belly and called my father. "Dad, that divorce agreement you drew up three years ago -- you can have the lawyers send it over now."

He asked me to take everything. Every kiss. Every fight. Every quiet morning he ever let himself be soft with me. Every single memory of the five years we spent loving each other in secret. He said it was the only way to keep me safe. That if he walked into the enemy’s camp knowing he had a mate, they would use me to destroy him. So he asked me to hold his memories inside me, like I was a box he could trust, and he promised he would come back for them in six months. That was five years ago. Caius is home now. But he doesn’t remember me. He doesn’t remember any of it. And the worst part? He is falling in love with me all over again, slowly, the way he did the first time, and I am standing here with all of him inside my head, watching him meet me like a stranger. I know every single thing about him. His nightmares. The way he takes his coffee. The scar on his ribcage from the night he almost died protecting me. The exact words he said when he first told me he loved me. He knows nothing about me. And now the people he spent five years hunting are closing in, the mission is falling apart, and the only way to save him is to give him back everything he asked me to take. But if I do that, he will remember everything they did to me while he was gone. And the Caius who remembers is not the kind of man who lets things go.

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!"