Yaholics Anonymous!

At my engagement party, my cousin drugged herself and tearfully begged me to lend her my fiance for one night, so I sent the Eastons' youngest son, who had always had a thing for her, on her way. When Erin woke up and realized it wasn't my fiance, she killed herself out of shame and despair. My fiance didn't blame me; he treated me as he always had. Ridden with guilt, I took care of Erin's mother after her death. But on my wedding day, my groom turned husband had me drugged and threw me to beggars. "Erin suffered like this back then," he said coldly. "You can atone for her pain with that filthy body of yours." And so, on my wedding night, I was violated to death—with a baby in my belly. When I opened my eyes again, I had returned to that night when Erin tearfully begged me to give my fiance to her.

When I hear my boyfriend, Terence Bowen, is trapped in a house fire, I immediately rush back to save him. However, after dragging him out with all my strength, I realize it's just a dummy. Laughter erupts from the house next door. "Ariana Brock is such a fool! She fell for it again!" Through a half-open window, I spot Terence lounging on the couch, casually scrolling through his phone. He looks completely fine. "That's the 47th prank we've pulled on her. Three more to go and we're done." "Serves her right. She shouldn't have stolen Bethany Howard's scholarship. Bethany is the one Terence actually cares about. That's why he decided to fake a relationship with Ariana to get revenge 50 times over. Too bad the game will end soon." I bend over, gasping for air. All this time, the relationship I've worked so hard to protect is nothing but a game to them.

The day before our wedding, I received an expensive suit from my wife. Not long after, her young lover called me, his voice trembling. "I'm sorry. It was my fault. My bad for mixing up your size. Please… please don't blame Sylvie." On the other end, I could hear Sylvie soothing him gently, patiently, until he calmed down. I stared at the plane ticket in my hand—a one-way trip out of the country—and calmly asked her for a divorce. Then, as if I no longer mattered, she left me with a single, cold sentence. "Just don't regret it."

On the night before our wedding, my fiancee, Elara Wynn, gave her first time to her first love, Drew Mercer. I left my engagement ring behind and walked away. Before I went, I posted a message on their social feed: "Hope you two get back together soon. I’m clearing the way for you." The very next second, my fiancee called. "Cassian Rowe, I just didn’t want to leave regrets in my life. Can you stop being so old-fashioned?" I answered, annoyed, that she was no longer my fiancee and had nothing to do with me. That was when she panicked.

My wife's first love crashes his car into me at 75 miles per hour, throwing my body over 65 feet across the road. As I am moments away from drawing my last breath, I use the remainder of my energy to call my wife. Focused on helping him cover up his crimes, she brushes me off before hanging up. "I'm busy—stop bothering me," she spits. Little does she know, the man who was just killed… is me.

We had been together for seven years, yet my CEO boyfriend canceled our marriage registration 99 times. The first time, his newly hired assistant got locked in the office. He rushed back to deal with it, leaving me standing outside the County Clerk's Office until midnight. The fifth time, we were about to sign when he heard his assistant had been harassed by a client. He left me there and ran off to "rescue" her, while I was left behind, humiliated and laughed at by others. After that, no matter when we scheduled our registration, there was always some emergency with his assistant that needed him more. Eventually, I gave up completely and chose to leave. However, after I moved away from Twilight City, he spent the next five years desperately searching for me, like a man who had finally lost his mind.

When my daughter, Ruth Jensen, says for the tenth time that she wants a different mother, I don't get angry. I just calmly ask her who she wants instead. She blurts, "Vivian." She means Vivian Green, her tutor… and also the woman my husband has never been able to forget. At Ruth's birthday party that day, she even openly thanks Vivian, saying Vivian takes care of her like a mother. Looking at Ruth's young, innocent face, I finally understand that she doesn't like me. So, I stop caring for her and my husband the way I used to. Instead, I turn around and join a classified national project. Rather than wasting time on people who aren't worth it, I'd be better off serving my country!

I, Celine Walsh, and my dear sister, Caroline Walsh, became Pregnancy Maidens, who were fertile for merfolk, through the ingestion of special elixirs. We were betrothed to the merfolks through a political marriage. In my previous life, I had chosen a silver-finned merman who was powerfully built, but rough on the eyes. With him, I gave birth to several black-finned mer-children that were prized pedigree. Through them, I was elevated to the status of Crown Princess, enjoying a life of luxury and a prolonged lifespan of several centuries. Meanwhile, Caroline, who picked the purple-finned merman only ever gave birth to red-finned mer-children, which was considered the lowest of lows. For that, she became the laughingstock of the merfolk. Driven to madness by her jealousy, she took my inner pearl, turned me into minced meat and fed me to the fishes. When I finally opened my eyes again, I found myself back on the day of my wedding. This time, Caroline quickly chose the silver-finned merman without any hesitation. Unbeknownst to her, rising to power through her children was not as easy as she had imagined. The silver-finned merman was a promiscuous and depraved one, the very embodiment of cruelty. His favorite activity? Torturing a pregnant lady…

In my previous life, I saved a fallen dragon prince on the day my sister and I were to choose our mates. In gratitude, he took me back to his clan and made me his concubine. A year later, I birthed a golden egg, producing a dragon heir. Overjoyed, the prince crowned me Dragon Queen on his Ascension Day, revered by all clans. Meanwhile, my sister wed a burly beastman, only to become his least favored concubine. Consumed with jealousy, she pushed me off a cliff during a ritual, ending my life. When I opened my eyes again, I saw my sister rushing toward the prince's hiding place, her intentions clear from our past life. I realized she had been reborn, too. But she didn't know that while saving the prince was simple, bearing his heir was a trial beyond measure.

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.