My dear teacher in high school thought I was a b*tch. She hated me so much and humiliated me endlessly. But, sheesh… Her baby boy, the handsome, straight-A student, loved me so much that he could even offer his soul to me.

I got cancer, but my boyfriend didn’t know it. He gave up his dream university for me. He had also run to another woman anxiously without attending to me first when I had a car accident. I died. I died the day he watched fireworks abroad with his female secretary.

My ex-boyfriend had been hit on the head by a falling object, and his intellect was equivalent to an eight-year-old child. For the sake of money, I complied with his request to shave his beard. He said that he wanted to be hugged and kissed for a good night like the other children on TV. I bore with his demands. Afraid of the dark night, he wanted to sleep with me on my bed. Once again, for the sake of money, I went with him. However, I couldn’t stand that he stole my leggings!

After taking my shower, I walked into the room of my best friend, Jessica, while wrapped in a towel. I placed a selection of underwear on the bed and asked her which would suit my new red dress. But I heard no response from Jessica. Instead, I heard a deep voice of a man from Jessica’s cell phone. “I think the black one suits better,” the man said.

On the day of the earthquake in Westville, my husband left me and flew to another city to find the other woman. I was buried in the ruins when I texted him: “Charles, an earthquake happened. I’m buried under the ground. It’s so dark here. I’m so scared…” After I was rescued, I sent him two more messages before throwing my phone under the ruins. “Charles, I can’t hold on any longer. Fortunately, you’re busy with your work, or you might die here with me and our child.” “I’m glad you’re fine.” I did that on purpose. I purposely made him think I had died. I purposely made him feel guilty about me and our unborn child. I wanted him to cry hard and live in deep regret. Only when the truth could no longer be hidden, I would walk up to him and tell him, “I want a divorce.”

Collins Ward’s ex-girlfriend was diagnosed with cancer. And he found out I had anonymously transferred a sum of money to her account. Collins smacked the card on my face. “We are already married! What are you still upset with? Why do you need to humiliate her with money? Don’t you know she’s dying?” I stared at him in silence. “Collins Ward, you were the one who proposed to me.”

On the day of my father’s funeral. At the funeral home, I bumped into my husband, Chad Bird, who had been on a business trip for two weeks. He circled his arms on a woman in a black dress and whispered comfort. The woman held the urn and leaned sadly in the arms of my husband. She had exquisite makeup on her face. If I was not mistaken. This woman is my husband’s first love. The urn she was holding probably belonged to her short-lived fiancé.

I thought I would have loved Ollie Lindsey for a long time if I hadn’t seen that tweet from Sharon Mitchell. She posted a picture of the rain from the car with the caption. “After all these years, you are the only one willing to spend three hours waiting for me to get off work.” The picture was posted on my birthday. And that day, I waited for Ollie at home for three hours.

The man I love is marrying someone else. Cameron only met her today. Cam was the boy who taught me to shoot a bow and how to swim. He’d been kind to me when other packmates weren’t–because I was too small and too weak–in their words–to amount to anything. He loves me. He tells me so every day. But if he loves me–how can he leave me for someone else? Mate. My wolf insists. No, I tell her. If we had been mates, he’d never be able to do this to me…

On the day my cousin, Roselle, gave birth, I was having a meal with her husband, Lawrence. He was about to leave, but I stopped him and said, “Lawrence, wait. I have a surprise gift for her.” A lavish gift for her after she sent my mother to the deathbed.