
![[ENG DUB] Burning Away for the Man She Loved](https://acfs3.goodshort.com/dist/src/assets/images/pc/common/f901131c-default-book-cover.png)
Fiona Simmons and Xavier Stanley were childhood sweethearts, but a devastating fire led Xavier to mistakenly believe that Fiona had intentionally refused to save him. Haunted by this grudge, He carried resentment toward her love throughout their three-year marriage.Deliberately picking fights, Xavier filed for divorce 100 times,and each time, Fiona swallowed her pride, pleading for forgiveness with undignified devotion. When Xavier filed for the 101st time and they walked out of the civil affairs office, his friends tripped Fiona and mocked her openly. Xavier watched coldly, ignored her injured knee, and left with his friend to attend a welcome party for Jenny Simmons. Heartbroken at last, Fiona decided to let go of their love forever and accepted a mysterious stranger's offer.

"For three years of marriage, my husband never once touched me. Until he returned from the West Coast—with the woman he’d never gotten over. Cecilia smiled and said, “I’m carrying Grant’s baby. You should divorce him.” I nodded without hesitation. “Fine. He’s all yours.” A cheating husband? No, thanks. But I’m not walking away empty-handed. I’ll make sure they both pay the price."

I dated my lawyer boyfriend for five years. He canceled our wedding.Fifty-two times.First time? His intern messed up some paperwork. He ditched me at the beach to fix it. I waited all day.Alone.Second time, we were mid-ceremony when he bolted.Heard that intern was getting heat from another lawyer and left me to face the guests and their stares.After that, every time we tried again, there was always some ""emergency"" with her. Always.I finally hit my limit. I was done. Packed up and broke it off.But the day I left Ainsley? He totally lost it trying to find me.

Lynn Clark gets an alert: her husband spent 100k of her money at Viva Club. Rushing over, she catches him with his young mistress, plotting to use her 5 million pension to buy a club for his so-called ""goddaughter.""Thirty years of marriage earns her just one insult: ""My wife's just a loyal dog to me, a simp."" She doesn't break down—she slips out and calls her niece, "Bring me a divorce agreement."Once treated as a cash cow, this woman is about to make the cheaters pay.

Marcello, the Don of the Valence family, has severe PTSD. He’s cold, and he pushes everyone away. But I can hear his thoughts. I know about the possessiveness hiding under that cold front. When he says, “Stay away from me, I don’t want to see you,” what he’s really thinking is: Lilian, don’t go. Don’t leave me. I really need you. Six years of marriage, and I’m used to him never meaning what he says. But tonight, at the family banquet, his assistant is on his arm again, instead of me. I ask Marcello, “She’s standing where the Don’s wife should be. You got nothing to say about that?” Impatience flashes across Marcello’s face. “You’re twenty minutes late, Lilian. You have no right to question me.” “Either go stand in a corner, or get the hell out of my estate. Now.” A second later, his thoughts crash into me: Lilian. Get mad. Slap her. Scream that you’re my wife. Prove you love me. I need to feel secure. But this time, seeing the smirks on everyone’s faces, I’m just… tired. I take off the diamond ring, the one that marks me as the Don’s wife. “Since there’s no place for me here, let’s get a divorce.” Perfect timing. The hospital is sending me to London for a placement. I leave tomorrow.

"Every time my husband, Dave Tarrett, spent the night at his ex Maggie Gorringe's place, he bought me another building. Two years into our marriage, I owned 285 commercial properties across the country. Which also meant Dave had screwed me over 285 times. After the deed to property number 286 landed in my hands, Maggie sent me another smug little video. ""So what if Dave throws money at you? I'm the one who gets his body and his heart. You might be some international supermodel, but you still can't get your own husband into bed."" I didn't bother arguing. Instead, I mailed her the newest Victoria's Secret set from my latest runway show. When Dave found out how ""generous"" I'd been, he rewarded me by taking me to some elite social event. During a party game, Maggie lost three rounds straight and got dared to lick whipped cream off some playboy's thigh. She grabbed a wine bottle, smashed it, and shoved the jagged edge against her neck. ""Dave, I'm not letting anyone humiliate me like this!"" Dave—usually cold as ice—instantly panicked. Then he turned to me. Of course he did. ""It's just whipped cream,"" he said softly. ""Do this for her. I swear I'll go home with you after."" Everyone waited for me to lose it. But I stayed calm and agreed without a word. He didn't know this was the 287th time he'd hurt me. And I was done being his pet. Once I paid back the debt I owed him for saving my life, we'd be done for good. "

Three years into my fake death, my wife and daughter showed up at my door. To get rid of them, I grabbed a knife and threatened to end my life. Then my seven-year-old daughter put her hand on my father's ventilator. Claire Harrison stood beside her, her voice trembling as she delivered her ultimatum. "Wesley, either you see your father suffocate to death, or you come back and be my husband again. Your choice." I was shaking with rage, but I put down the knife and remarried her. Walking back into that familiar villa, I became the Harrison family's model "devoted husband and father." When my foster brother needed her company because he was feeling down, I cleared out and booked myself a hotel. I ended up with a perforated ulcer, went into surgery, and never once called her. When my daughter got picky and said she only wanted her uncle's cooking, I went straight to Dylan's place and brought him back to live with us. Even on my birthday, when Dylan suddenly started crying and said, "I'm so jealous of you, Wesley. You've got such a wonderful wife and kid. Me? I've never even gotten a decent birthday present," I didn't hesitate—I slid the onyx bead bracelet off my wrist and pressed it into his hand. The deep black beads gleamed against his pale skin. But Claire's eyes went red. She grabbed my wrist, her voice sharp as a blade. "Wesley, that was the love token I prayed for you—step by step on my knees—all the way across the Mojave."

In her previous life, when Marlene's son falls ill, she calls her husband Wesley Hoffman for assistance, hoping he can contact their family doctor. However, Wesley claims that his best friend's son is also sick, and the doctor is attending to that child. As a result, their own son dies due to delayed medical treatment. When Marlene finds herself reborn to the time before her son's illness, her first action is to divorce that guy.
![[ENG DUB] Misunderstood Love](https://acfs3.goodshort.com/dist/src/assets/images/pc/common/f901131c-default-book-cover.png)
"Give me another chance." He said in a hoarse voice. His voice was always like music to her ears. She smiled. "Mr. Jones, we're only in a contracted relationship." Her past was left on the day she gave birth to a stillborn and was abandoned in a mental hospital five years ago. While he was only one of the chess pieces in her game.

I finally scored the World Cup tickets my fiancé, Louis, had been dying to get. I was thrilled and about to tell him the good news when I overheard his friend talking to him: "Skyler turned down a design gig at Milan Fashion Week just to be with you, and now you’re giving the ticket to Monica? That’s a dick move, man." Louis just chuckled, his tone dismissive. "Watching it with her is boring. You know I’m used to having Monica around for every World Cup." So he had already gotten tickets, and he never planned on taking me. The realization hit me then: for the past twelve years, every single World Cup, he had been by Monica’s side. Every time their team scored, she was the first person he hugged to celebrate. Back then, he would coax me: "Monica and I grew up together. I’m just used to it—she was around long before you were. Don't be mad, okay? Next time, I promise it’ll just be you and me." Suddenly, I just felt exhausted. I tore up the tickets, canceled our marriage registration scheduled for next month, packed my bags, and booked a flight back to my hometown for the very next day. This time, I was the one walking away.