Why Do We Feel Nostalgia Mga Nobela at Kwento

"Do I make you nervous, baby?" he whispered, close to her ear and her grip tightened on his shoulder."Tell me, baby... how do you feel? Do you remember the kiss we had...?""I trace my fingers across your thighs, grab the back of your neck and tightly and kiss you, you grab my face and lightly brush your lips across mine. Twirl your fingers through my hair and kiss me softly, kiss my lips, my jawline, my neck. Then bit my lip, I turn my face and pull you closer nibble on your ear and breathe hot air against your neck. Slide my hand up your stomach into your chest. I send shivers down your spine. You don't even know what you do to me." Hearing this increased her breathing. What is this man doing to her? She never felt this before not with any other man... why him? what is special in him?Before him, her life was so perfect... she had everything she ever wanted... money, fame and power. What more could a person need to survive in this world? Money right? She has it but he made her feel like.... out of this world.

My mother suddenly suffered a brain hemorrhage, and I needed to pay $80,000 for surgery immediately. I called my wife right away. Before I could finish, she cut me off impatiently. "Gabriel Cole, didn't we agree when we got married that we'd keep our finances separate? Your mother being sick is your family's problem. Why should you touch my savings? Can't you have a little respect for the contract?" Then my stepson's sneering voice came through from her side. "Uncle Gabriel, can you stop morally blackmailing my mom? As a grown man, isn't it pathetic that you can't even pay your own mother's medical bills? Stop bothering us while we're eating sushi." Because I couldn't pay the fee in time, my mother missed the best window for surgery and died. It wasn't until noon the next day that my wife called me. Her first words were an accusation. "What's wrong with you? It's already noon. Why aren't you back to cook? Don't you know Mason has tutoring this afternoon?" "My mom died of a brain hemorrhage!" I roared through gritted teeth. My wife froze for a second. The first thing she blurted out was: "Well, don't expect me to pay for the funeral. That's a matter of principle. "And your mother dying is your mother dying. That's not a reason for you to skip cooking." In that instant, I knew the devotion I'd poured out for more than ten years meant nothing to her. Rage hit my heart. I suffered a heart attack and followed my mother into death. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day my wife proposed separate finances after marriage.

When my colleagues find out that I'm pretty good at cooking, they start organizing dinners at my place. Lucy Holt, one of the junior accountants, suggests that we split the groceries evenly between us. As a result, I don't think I can reject their request without being rude. On my last day of work, the group gathers at my place for one last meal. "You're such a good cook, Jess! We'll all be transferring you 500 dollars later. It's just a token of our appreciation," Lucy declares with a bright smile. But the very next day, she sends me a message. "Hey, Jess. You know it's illegal to operate an unlicensed catering business from your home, right? Your house will get sealed off for further investigation. More importantly, the value of goods has passed the threshold of 10,000 dollars, which means the fine you'll have to pay is probably going to be about 20 times that amount. "Since we worked together, we decided not to report you to the authorities. We'll just settle this matter privately. All you have to do is give us the fine you would've had to pay instead." This is how I realized that, combined with yesterday's meal, the total amount they've given me for groceries thus far is exactly 10,001 dollars.

For three years, I was the only one allowed inside my husband, Matthew Carter's, secret room on the top floor. Until that day—when I walked in and found his young assistant there. "Matthew asked me to get things ready for his dinner party," she said, all confidence and no shame. I smiled. It turned out this was what it felt like to have my privileges as his wife trampled on. Fine. If the rules of the game had changed, then I would show everyone who the real player was. One by one, I dismantled the Carter family's most prized projects. That was when Matthew finally panicked. He demanded, "Why? We're husband and wife!" "Exactly," I said, tossing the divorce papers onto his desk. "And that's why betrayal comes with a steeper price, doesn't it?"

Bored of having nothing to do at home, I hide my identity and apply for a job as a designer at the company my son, Jonathan Grady, runs. A few months later, I'm informed that the company wants to optimize its workforce, and I'm the first to get axed. "Why?" "Because you're menopausal. You can't get pregnant." Hearing that makes me scoff. What kind of absurd reason is that? "A designer uses her brains to do her job, no? When did a womb become so important?" I point at Sasha Johnson, who'd been hired before me and was now sitting at her desk, snacking on popcorn instead of working. "Her line compositions are still a complete mess, and she spends all of her time watching TV shows in the office. But just because she's pregnant, she's not included in the company's layoffs?" Fiona Lewis, the HR manager, looks at me as though I'm an idiot. "How can an old hag like you, who still has to work, compare yourself to her? She's pregnant with the boss' baby, you know. She's the future Mrs. Grady! The money we save from having to pay your salary can go toward buying her prenatal supplements." I freeze in shock. Did my son knock up one of his employees? But he told me he didn't want to have any kids!

After my hundredth disastrous blind date, my best friend and I made a bold decision: we would have children without husbands. She chose sperm from a brilliant PhD donor. I chose a donor with an eight-nation mixed heritage. Later, the PhD donor from Kingsford University was diagnosed with low sperm motility and decided he wanted to marry my friend, Melissa Shaw. She agreed. Whenever she saw me going to my prenatal checkups alone, Melissa would wrap her arm around her husband and mock me. "You're destined to be alone," she sneered. "You can't even find a man to marry you. My husband just launched a major national research project. His future is limitless." What she did not know was that the father of my child was the Prince of Dubaria. He took me back to his country and made me his princess. The jewels I wore were so heavy they practically weighed me down. However, after she saw the yacht I posted on social media, Melissa suddenly called me in tears. "I don't know what happened," she sobbed. "My husband's project was suddenly suspended. We can barely afford baby formula for our child." She said she wanted to make up and even asked if I would be her child’s godmother. However, the moment I stepped through her door, she raised a chainsaw and hacked me to death. "Why do you get to live a better life than me?" she screamed. "Just because you chose better sperm?!" When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day my best friend and I first decided to have children without husbands.

As the owner of a small private business, I had never been stingy with my employees. Having made a million in profit, I distributed $850,000 to them. I believed this would win people’s hearts. I never expected it would lead to being reported by my own employees. "We have received an anonymous tip-off from your company’s employees alleging arbitrary wage deductions and unfair profit distribution. The report further states that company discipline is disorganized and that employees are being compelled to work overtime, constituting a serious violation of labor laws. Immediate corrective action is hereby required, along with a fine of $500,000." Fine. Since they were so dissatisfied with my policies, then we would do things by the book—by the rules every other company followed. I would keep every last cent of this one million in profit.

"What do you want? I thought I warned you to stay away from me the last time we talked on the phone?” I said, with my hands across my chest. “Alexandria! What did I do wrong? Please tell me, if it's something I can fix, I will gladly do it! Why all this coldness towards me?” He said, moving closer towards me, and I did not move. Looking at his cute face, I sigh softly. “Fred, you did not do anything wrong, okay! We just had fun, and nothing more!” “Fun? Was that all it was to you?” He asked, his eyes turning red at my words. “Yeah! What else? I asked you out myself, didn't I?” “Yeah, but I thought we were dating? Alex, please don't do this to me! After what I have been through, I thought, I have finally found someone who is genuine, and sincere to fall in love with!” He said, with so much passion that I felt it a little bit. But then, I wasn't the type to love someone. "Can't you see? I have fallen in love with you! I'm head over heels for you, Alex!” He spoke softly, holding my hands again, and looking into my eyes. I could see the truth in his eyes, I could tell that he really does love me. But then, it's a pity that I can't feel anything for him.

While I was driving my bus, I spotted my boyfriend's car ahead. He was kissing the woman he had always been hung up on. I could not help tapping the horn. That was all it took. He and his dream girl stepped out and blocked my bus in the middle of the road. I glanced at the passengers behind me. I could not afford to delay everyone, so I swallowed my pride and asked him to move his car. She lifted her chin, her voice dripping with arrogance. “Not happening. Unless you get off that bus and apologize to me right here, you're not going anywhere.” Traffic was completely jammed. There was no way forward and no way back. My face went pale, but I had no choice except to lower my head and prepare to apologize. My boyfriend grew impatient. "Why are you still standing there? Get down and apologize to Sally. Right now." Humiliated, I inched my way towards the door. However, the doors unexpectedly swung open and the passengers rushed out of the bus. “Do you think we have time for this? I'm already late for school. Are you going to take responsibility?” “My perfect attendance this month is ruined because of you. You two are unbelievable!” “If you shameless idiots want to act like this, don't blame us for getting physical!”

I’ve always taken people literally. When Dad told me to empty the basin, I asked where he wanted me to pour the water. “On my head,” he snapped. So I did. When Mom told me to do the laundry, I asked whether I should add detergent. She gave a cold laugh. “Sure. Add caramel sauce.” So I poured an entire bottle of caramel sauce into the washing machine. Everyone said I was stupid. But this “stupid” guy took first place in a nationwide academic competition. I earned my school’s only direct-admission spot at one of the country’s top universities. The day the results were announced, Lucas Hale, the school bully, ripped my application apart in front of the entire class. “You can’t even understand sarcasm. Why should someone like you get direct admission? “Last night, I saw you get out of a luxury SUV. Who knows what kind of deal you made with the woman inside?” The whole classroom went quiet. Then everyone started looking at me differently. Lucas stood there with a self-righteous expression. “I’m just speaking up for the rest of the class. Why should we work ourselves to death only to lose out to someone who got in through connections?” I thought about it seriously. Then I took out my phone and called my older sister. “Claire, they said I got my admission spot by sleeping with someone. Is that true?” A few seconds later, I held the phone out to Lucas, whose face had gone pale. “My sister wants to know something.” “What’s your name?” “And your student ID number?”