

We had been dating for ten years before my boyfriend, Shawn Jepson, agreed to marry me. When the wedding photographer asked us to pose a few kissing shots, Shawn claimed he had germophobia and walked out on me. I awkwardly apologized to the team. Taxis were a rare commodity during blizzards, so I trudged through the snow to get home. To my dismay, I stumbled upon Shawn tongue-deep into his crush’s throat in what was supposed to be our marital home. “Just say the word, Casey, and I’ll leave Jessica.” Later, word went around that Shawn searched the world for his ex-fiancee, begging her to return.

My husband's childhood sweetheart was diagnosed with a terminal illness. To fulfill her last wishes and let her experience the warmth of family, my husband, Aaron Turner, gave her my necklace. He even let her claim my birthday. Even our son started calling her "Mom" in private. He told me, "Chrishell, Sylvia is dying. Just give in to her, will you?" Whenever I asked him to spare even a little time and affection for me, our son, Lucas, would rush to speak on their behalf. "Mom, didn't you always teach me to be generous? Sylvia is dying. Why do you always make things difficult for her?" Over time, I stopped asking for anything at all. Then one night, I overheard my son speaking to his father after returning from the hospital. "Sylvia is so gentle and graceful. I wish Mom could be more like her." Aaron chuckled and affectionately brushed his hand over our son's hair. "Your mom may be a little strict, but it's all for your own good. Since you like Sylvia so much, how about we let her be your godmother?" So even the child I risked my life to bring into this world didn't like me. I lowered my gaze, quietly closed the bedroom door, and pretended none of it had happened. Since they were both filled with such regret, I'd leave quietly and give them what they wanted.

My husband's childhood sweetheart was diagnosed with a terminal illness. To fulfill her last wishes and let her experience the warmth of family, my husband, Aaron Turner, gave her my necklace. He even let her claim my birthday. Even our son started calling her "Mom" in private. He told me, "Chrishell, Sylvia is dying. Just give in to her, will you?" Whenever I asked him to spare even a little time and affection for me, our son, Lucas, would rush to speak on their behalf. "Mom, didn't you always teach me to be generous? Sylvia is dying. Why do you always make things difficult for her?" Over time, I stopped asking for anything at all. Then one night, I overheard my son speaking to his father after returning from the hospital. "Sylvia is so gentle and graceful. I wish Mom could be more like her." Aaron chuckled and affectionately brushed his hand over our son's hair. "Your mom may be a little strict, but it's all for your own good. Since you like Sylvia so much, how about we let her be your godmother?" So even the child I risked my life to bring into this world didn't like me. I lowered my gaze, quietly closed the bedroom door, and pretended none of it had happened. Since they were both filled with such regret, I'd leave quietly and give them what they wanted.

I was born broken. My Alpha mother was the one who branded me. She said emotion was a sin. A weakness. Especially for a werewolf. Especially for an Alpha’s heir. The day we were born, she clamped emotion-suppressing collars around our necks. Mine and my twin sister's. The slightest flicker of emotion, and the collar flashed red. My mother would then push the button, injecting me with a diluted "silver solution" to suppress my feelings. But my sister Cassia's collar? Always a calm, steady blue. Even when she shattered Mom's precious moonstone, it just pulsed gently. And me? I’d just whisper, "Mom, the thunder scares me," and my collar would erupt in a violent red. Then came the sting of silver poison burning through my blood.. I used to argue. But Mom always said the same thing. "The data doesn't lie. Pain is a teacher. This is for your own good." After thousands of these injections, I started to believe it, too. That I was born out of control. The night of the alliance's Moon Goddess Festival, Mom was taking my sister to the rooftop party. Something scared me during the day. The collar flashed red, and my mother started the punishment. But this time, the collar malfunctioned. It shot a dose a thousand times stronger into my neck. I collapsed on the carpet, begging, "Mother, the collar... it hurts so much... help me." My collar was flashing a frantic red. My mother just looked down at me, drenched in a cold sweat, and pressed the button for the maximum dose. "You'd lose control like this just for attention? You're a lost cause." She turned, took my sister, and slammed the door. I couldn't help but think, Mom must be right. The collar is red. It doesn't really hurt. I'm just being dramatic, looking for pity again. I'm sorry, Mom. In my next life, I'll be the perfect daughter you always wanted.

The night before high school graduation, Ethan Luciano pulled me into his bedroom. His hands were rough, his touch demanding, yet my heart overflowed with a decade's worth of unspoken longing. I'd loved Ethan for ten years, and finally, it seemed my silent wishes had come true. Afterwards, as we lay tangled in his sheets, he whispered that he'd marry me after graduation. Once he took over the Luciano family's empire from his father, he'd make me the most cherished woman in the family. I believed him. The next morning, I sat curled up against his bare chest as he casually told my foster brother, Lucas, about us. My cheeks were flushed, and my heart raced, still clinging to the sweetness of the night before. However, then their conversation shifted into Italian. Lucas smirked, leaning back against the doorframe. "Not bad, Young Boss. Your first time, and the school's 'it girl' just threw herself at you. So, how's my little sister taste?" Ethan gave a lazy chuckle. "Looks like an angel, but a freak in the sheets. Who would’ve thought?" The room erupted in low, conspiratorial laughter. Lucas raised a brow. "So, should I call her my little sister or my future sister-in-law?" Ethan’s tone darkened, his arm tightening around my waist for a moment. Then he let out a sigh. "She’s nothing. Just practice," he said, his voice dropping to a whisper. "I’m trying to hook up with the cheer captain, Sylvia Dawson, but I don’t want her thinking I’m clueless in bed. Cynthia Saville’s just a warm-up." He paused. "But don’t tell Sylvia. I don’t need her getting all emotional." They didn't know that I’d spent months secretly learning Italian, preparing for the life I thought I’d share with Ethan. I didn't say a word. Later that day, I quietly withdrew my early decision application to Caltech and applied to MIT instead.

For six years of marriage, Winona Smith was kept in the dark—until she discovered her husband,Yale Gunson, was sheltering his lover abroad. Her heart shattered the moment he failed to show up while their daughter lay critically ill. Devastated but resolute, she ended the marriage. Picking up her career where she left off, Winona transformed from a homemaker into a luminary in scientific research—her papers graced top international journals, her breakthroughs earned global accolades. Just as she prepared to embrace a new life filled with happiness, the once-indifferent Yale completely broke down. Desperate and unhinged, he fell to his knees, begging her to come back.

After being brutally murdered—her body dismembered and scattered—Bella's soul returns home on Christmas Eve. There, she finds her biological parents, Paul and Evelyn, doting on her adopted sister, Anna, while remaining cold and indifferent toward her, completely unaware that their own daughter is already dead. When Bella's body is discovered, Evelyn, a forensic examiner, and Paul, the police chief, lead the investigation—yet fail to recognize the victim as their own child

After being brutally murdered—her body dismembered and scattered—Bella's soul returns home on Christmas Eve. There, she finds her biological parents, Paul and Evelyn, doting on her adopted sister, Anna, while remaining cold and indifferent toward her, completely unaware that their own daughter is already dead. When Bella's body is discovered, Evelyn, a forensic examiner, and Paul, the police chief, lead the investigation—yet fail to recognize the victim as their own child

In her past life, Vivian Walker forced Isaac Lowe to marry her, only to live in loneliness and regret. On her deathbed, deceived by Isaac's first love, Gigi Smith, she died believing he had never cared for her. But when Vivian opens her eyes again, she's back forty years in the past—right at the moment she threw away her future for Isaac. This time, she doesn't think twice. With a deep breath, she tears up the withdrawal form, choosing herself and the life she deserves.

After hearing her daughter Ann's inner voice, Liz Sawyer learned that in her past life, her husband had been accusing her of having postpartum depression and took everything from her family, even their house. Now she rushed back home and used Ann's help to reclaim the housing deed. When she found out her husband tried to throw Ann away, she arrived with her parents to rescue her. Based on Ann's inner voice, she divorced her husband, met her true love, and therefore changed the tragic ending of her previous life.