Wish Story

On the day of my seventh wedding anniversary, my husband's lover gave my son a pet cat. My pregnancy made me allergic to cat fur, and rashes appeared all over my body. Sensing that it might lead to a miscarriage, I told my son to return the cat. "I'm keeping it!" my five-year-old son, Zachary, protested. He pushed me and said, "I hate having you as my mom! I want Aunt Lynn to be my mom!" My husband, Quinton Locke, tore into me. "Why did you have to develop an allergy now, out of all times? Is your jealousy blinding you to the point where you won't even consider your son 's feelings? You're being unreasonable!" He carried Zachary up and left with the cat. They had eschewed me in favor of Lynn Shelbert, Quinton's lover and the 'apple of his eye'. I collapsed on the ground, watching as blood began to soak my pants. At that moment, I knew I had suffered a miscarriage. I felt an unimaginable pain while I was in the hospital. My husband and son went traveling with Lynn, resembling a happy family of three. Lynn sent me a message. [Do you know why Quinton married you even though he's hopelessly in love with me? Well, I wanted a son and a daughter, but I didn't want to bear the risks that come with pregnancy. It's a shame you had a miscarriage.] Despair engulfed me that very instant. I hired a lawyer to prepare the divorce papers and took a flight back to my hometown. My sole wish was to never see Quinton and Zachary again.

My sister abruptly returns to the country on the day of my wedding. My parents, brother, and fiancé abandon me to pick her up at the airport. She shares a photo of them on her social media, bragging about how she's so loved. Meanwhile, all the calls I make are rejected. My fiancé is the only one who answers, but all he tells me is not to kick up a fuss. We can always have our wedding some other day. They turn me into a laughingstock on the day I've looked forward to all my life. Everyone points at me and laughs in my face. I calmly deal with everything before writing a new number in my journal—99. This is their 99th time disappointing me; I won't wish for them to love me anymore. I fill in a request to study abroad and pack my luggage. They think I've learned to be obedient, but I'm actually about to leave forever.

When I was struck by a stomach illness, my boyfriend, Charles Fischer, was busy blowing out birthday candles with his assistant, Beverly Wagner. I lay there in excruciating pain, but he didn't even glance at me. Instead, he affectionately stroked her nose.  “Bev is a year older! Make a wish, birthday girl!” Later, after I had fainted and was rushed to the hospital, I called Charles, only for him to ignore me.  Meanwhile, Beverly posted a photo on Instagram. Gifts filled the screen, with the caption, [Yay! Charles is the best ever! Charles and Bev, together forever!] When I confronted him, Charles didn’t care at all. "It's Bev’s birthday. Were you expecting me not to spend it with her? If you can't handle it, we're done!" This was the umpteenth time he'd threatened to break up with me, always confident that I wouldn't dare to leave him.  Not this time.

I was head over heels for Jonas Hayes, the cold and aloof scholarship student who saw me as nothing more than a walking wallet. He took my credit card but refused to let me get close. "Get lost. The sight of you and your filthy money makes me sick." Using my wealth, he showered Clara Dove, the stunning campus bella from a humble background, with luxury gifts and even threw her a lavish birthday party at the city’s most exclusive hotel. Everyone envied him, believing he was a self-made billionaire. But I didn’t care. I stayed hopelessly in love. After graduation, I poured my entire inheritance into building a life with him, convinced I could win his heart. During our honeymoon, he watched as I drowned, his voice ice-cold as he said, "Every time I think of how you used your money to control me, I wish you’d die sooner." When I woke up again, I was back in my college classroom—the day Jonas asked me to top up his card. This time, I wasn’t the desperate fool he remembered. I slapped him across the face with the card and sneered, "Even beggars know how to kneel and ask. What are you, a weed?"

Oscar Miller was Shirley Bishop's personal bodyguard, but when she got attacked on her birthday, he shielded her foster sister, Myra Bishop, with his own body. Shirley got cut three times—once across her face, once on her arm, and a third that stabbed her lower abdomen, leaving her unable to have children ever again. But even after all that, she still wanted to marry him. Later, Oscar did marry her—but he never touched her, not even once, all the way until his death. At his funeral, the insurance company showed up. "Mr. Miller purchased a large insurance policy before his death. The beneficiary is Ms. Myra Bishop." That was when Shirley realized that after all these years, Oscar had never gotten over Myra. Now, she had been reborn to when her father asked her to choose from four men she had grown up with to be her husband. This time, she decided to fulfill his wish and picked someone else.

When my father succumbed to a brutal illness, my world shattered. The day before his funeral, my fiancé abandoned me to marry his first love, which added to my grief. When I confronted him, his irritation was palpable. "Megan's dad is dying of cancer," he snapped. "His last wish is to see her get married. I did something good. Can't you see it?" That night, I called him, desperate for answers, only to hear that woman's smug voice. "Blake is in the shower. Can I help you?" I hung up without a word, my heart sinking. Later, he called back, exhausted and dismissive. "I'm swamped with wedding plans. Don't bother me with irrelevant things, okay?" Silence was my only response. I tossed the engagement ring into the trash and canceled our wedding plans, severing the ties that bound us.

My girlfriend's schoolmate is being hounded by creditors. In my past life, the same incident had unfolded before my eyes. I was worried that my girlfriend would provoke these ruthless creditors, so I'd advised her not to meddle. However, her schoolmate later overdosed on sleeping pills. Later on, my girlfriend acted as if nothing had happened and continued preparing for our wedding. But after she got drunk one day, I found her caressing his picture tenderly—before stabbing me in the heart with a knife. She claimed that if not for my indifference and selfishness, her schoolmate wouldn't have taken his own life. Now that I've been reborn, I'll grant her wish and let her help him pay off his debts. Presently, I say, "He's your schoolmate. If you can help him, go ahead. I won't object."

A year after Easton Carter turns down my 99th proposal, he calls me in the middle of the night, crying like his world's falling apart. He says his grandmother is dying and her last wish is to see him married. He tells me he's finally ready. He's already ordered the dress and booked the venue. But when I show up at the venue in my wedding dress, his friends burst out laughing. "You actually believed that? And you even swapped the cheap dress he ordered for a custom-made one? You're the queen of pathetic!" Then one of them yells, "Look, the groom's side piece showed up to crash the wedding!" "Security, come get this homewrecker!" Guests turn to stare like they're watching a joke unfold. Easton doesn't even look at me. He turns to the woman he loves and says, "I told you I'd ruin this wedding for you. I meant it. If you can't have him, no one will!" She gives him a satisfactory smile. Then, he finally glances at me. "Tina said you did her a favor today. When we get married, you can be the bridesmaid, and you can still spend time with us after that." So, he brought me here just to help his sweetheart ruin her crush's wedding. But when Easton finally looks up at the wedding banner and realizes that I'm the bride, his eyes flare with rage.

During a charity gala, my boyfriend bids on a pair of matching watches but gives one of them to his true love. The media excitedly capture the scene and ask, "You bought a million-dollar watch without even batting an eye, Mr. Loewe. You've been single all these years—is it time for you to make an official announcement on your relationship status?" Everyone off stage applauds him, and I join them. I give him my blessings for his so-called announcement. To make it up to me, he attends my birthday celebration. Yet he pushes me into the cake to make his true love happy. Unbeknownst to him, there's a steel rack in the cake to keep it steady. I end up bloodied and on the brink of death.

I've been married to Elliot Graves, the mafia drug lord in NYC, for the past eight years. But today—on our wedding anniversary—I received a photo of him with my best friend, Lila, celebrating as if they were the ones married. And in her arms was my son, Owen. I stared at the image, then typed out two words in reply. “How perfect.” Half a hour later, Elliot stormed through the front door. His voice thundered through the hallway. “Why do you always have to be so bitchy to Lila?” Owen, my own little boy, shoved at my leg and glared. “Bad Momma,” he said. “I wish Miss Lila was my real mommy.” I didn’t flinch. I simply walked over to the drawer, pulled out the crisp stack of papers I’d long prepared, and dropped them on the table with a quiet finality. “Alright,” I said, my voice calm. “It’s all my fault. Now, can I go?”