Bias

Seavora City, Carmoria. Nathan Ziegler's side chick, Sophie, was melting down—again. He shoved the divorce papers at me. "Just sign. It's for show. Gotta keep her calm." I clutched my dress, gave a small nod, and signed. No fuss. No scene. As I turned to leave, one of his buddies snorted, "Joelle's way too obedient. Bet she'd fetch the divorce decree if you asked." Nathan lit a cigarette, smirking. "Wanna bet?" To them, I was still the silent pushover. The girl who'd cry in court but still do what she's told. Trade one paper for another—marriage for divorce. I stared at my phone. The message I'd received earlier: [Why don't you just marry me?] I typed back: [Okay.]

The apocalypse was coming. The ground temperature was 158 °F, and the first batch of human beings started moving to the base at the North Pole. As a scientist, my husband was allowed to bring family members with the first batch. Everyone thought that he would take me along without hesitation. But in the end, the name he wrote in the application form was one of his master’s students. “I trained her myself, and she does not have parents. I can’t bear to leave her alone in such a hot place.” He casually submitted the application form, and his words just chilled me to the core. “Rose, you’re different. You’ve been through tough situations. I believe you can make it until the second batch moves.” I forced a resigned smile and said nothing. That night, as the temperature climbed, I made a calm call. “You promised to grant me one wish, no questions asked. Does that still count?”

On our wedding day, my bride insists on wearing an old, beat-up watch with the million-dollar wedding dress I buy her. I call off the wedding on the spot. She looks at me in shock. "You called off the wedding just because of a watch?" I take out the divorce agreement and tell her to sign. "Yes. Because of that watch." Everyone calls me crazy. They cannot believe I would end a ten-year relationship over something so worthless and file for divorce in front of everyone. Dad walks up and slaps me across the face. "Get on your knees, you disgrace." My mother-in-law shrieks that I have ruined her daughter's future by returning her like damaged goods. I look at the watch on her wrist, which is stopped at 3:07, and I smile. Then, I phone my assistant. "It's time. Release everything. I want a divorce."

A love affair between two unlikely fellows because of the huge differences in their religion, culture and tribe. The two strange fellows met in a national youth service scheme after graduating from the university. It was love at first sight. But from a distance the love brewed till their paths crossed. Everything nearly fall apart if not that they were meant be. Destiny has a way of orchestrating events. They had no option than to tell themselves the truth which is that happiness lies with both of them coming together as one. But to make this happen the two had to wrestle down the tribal hatred, the religious acrimony, the cultural bias that nearly shattered their love. It's romantic, it's intriguing, it's fascinating, it's titillating and captivating.

My wife and I slept in separate beds for over three years. Then on our wedding anniversary, she suddenly tried to win me over. She climbed into my bed and pulled out all the stops, trying to get me to sleep with her. I stayed calm and collected. When our son started crying, I used it as an excuse to escape to his room, where I stayed all night. Vivian Hartley spent the entire night knocking on the door. The next morning, she acted sweet and gentle, graciously making me breakfast as if nothing had happened. She even tried to hand over her salary card. When my mother-in-law heard about this, she exploded at her daughter. "You pathetic fool! People need some self-respect! If you can't stand up for yourself, just get a divorce already!" Yet Vivian claimed her feelings for me ran so deep that the heavens themselves could vouch for her sincerity. She even defied her own mother. Our relatives and friends looked at us with envy. But my son and I continued to give her the cold shoulder. Finally, Vivian turned to social media for help. "Three years ago, I was busy with work. My husband and I had completely different schedules. I was afraid it would affect my performance at work, so I suggested we sleep in separate rooms. "Now our child is older, and I've swallowed my pride to try to fix things, but my husband won't even touch me." Someone in the comments gave her some advice: install hidden cameras around the house. "We can't just take your word for it. Record everything so we can see what's really going on. Plus, if things actually end in divorce, at least you'll have built up your social media following. It won't be a total loss." Vivian had no idea I was watching from among her followers.

"The property management fee this month comes to 1,500 dollars. Please make the payment whenever you're free." I notice my husband's phone screen lighting up on the dining table. After glancing at it, I grabbed it immediately. "The management must have gotten it wrong. Our apartment's fee is 28 dollars per month." That's when Liam Moore shoots up to his feet and reaches out to snatch his phone back. "Yeah, they must have gotten it wrong. I'll text the person in charge and explain everything to him." But I've already tapped into the link, which shows me the details of the property that's being charged. It's Cloudridge Villa, and the property deed owner is… Matilda Shaw. The young housekeeper who's currently cooking in the kitchen is also Matilda Shaw. My mind buzzes loudly instantly. While the three of us have to make do with a tiny, rundown replacement housing that's provided by the government, Liam, my own husband, has actually bought a villa for Matilda.

My parents died when I was ten, and I became an orphan. Darius Rossi, a mafia don, found me and took me out of the beggars' den. He wrapped me in designer clothes and raised me like a prized possession. Everyone said I would grow up to be his wife, that I was the treasure he kept close to his heart. Then came my birthday party. After a night of wild passion, he handed me a photo of his rival, Valerio Warren. He said, "Monica Arden, I've taken care of you for ten years. Now it's time for you to repay me. I'm arranging a marriage alliance with the Costa family. This is the guy Gina Costa has been crushing on, and I need you to seduce him and create an opening for me. I want her to marry me willingly." That was when I finally understood that I was never his treasure. I was just the most disposable piece on his chessboard. I followed his orders and pursued Valerio, doing exactly as he commanded. Yet, on the wedding day, Darius lost his mind when Valerio slipped the diamond ring onto my finger.

It's supposed to be a punishment, but it ends with me freezing to death in the freezer. My fiance, Carlo Vesta, also known as the heir of the Vesta family, only remembers that I exist three days later. Now, I'm just floating around while watching him hug my frozen corpse, his body trembling violently. I notice how broken his expression is, and soon, I witness him piecing together the truth that I've brought into my grave with me. It's too late, Carlo. But it's fine. I'm right here, watching you. I want to see how you're going to face the truth of you personally locking up the woman you love in her own grave.

My brother wants to become the godson of a Mafia don. As his sister, I was picking out his burial plot. In my last life, I overheard the truth that the selection wasn’t an honor but a suicide mission—used once, then erased. I did everything I could to stop him, but he cursed me for blocking his path to power. With no other choice, I secretly called the police. So, my brother was arrested; his dream shattered. Instead, someone else took his place, and during a bloody shootout, that man proved himself. He became the don’s sole successor. Our family lost its home, paying the price for offending the Mafia. My parents and my brother went insane. Convinced everything was my fault, the three of them worked together and buried me alive in the hills behind town. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day my brother excitedly announced he was going to take part in the selection. Looking at his stupid, clueless face, I smiled. This time, I’ll watch with my own eyes as he becomes nothing more than a replaceable lapdog.

After my rebirth, the very first thing I did was ride from one blood donation van to another, giving blood until I nearly collapsed. Why? Because in my previous life, my fiancé's newly hired intern, Shirley Lynch, had bound herself to a blood-exchange system. Every milliliter she donated was siphoned directly from my own veins. In just a month, she transformed from an ordinary college girl into the nation's beloved Blood Angel, showered with fame and fortune, while I, suffering from severe anemia, was fired from the hospital for being unable to work. When I exposed her scheme to my fiancé, he looked at me with disgust and broke off our engagement. "You're selfish and cowardly," he sneered. "You refuse to donate your rare blood type, and now you slander Shirley? You call yourself a doctor, yet you believe in such ridiculous nonsense!" From then on, every time Shirley donated blood, I would suffer heart palpitations, dizziness, and sometimes collapse outright. I begged the doctors in my department for help, but my fiancé blocked every attempt, accusing me of jealousy and wasting medical resources. In the end, to steal my promotion ahead of schedule, Shirley donated a full 1000 milliliters of blood live on television. As her blood drained, so did mine. I went into shock and died. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the very day Shirley first claimed she carried my rare blood type.