Cheating Gf

To temper my attitude, Frederick Burke throws me into the mountains. What he doesn't know is that this mountain lies deep within a high-radiation zone. Five months later, he finally shows up with a group of people to bring me back. However, my body is already starting to rot from the radiation. "Anastasia, if you hadn't pushed Colette down the stairs, I wouldn't have punished you like this. I wouldn't have left you to rot on this godforsaken mountain. Do you admit your mistake now?" I kneel on the ground and prostrate myself before Colette Reeves. Frederick freezes and instinctively reaches out to help me up. "Alright, there's no need for this…" I say nothing. I just quietly watch as he grabs my arm. Unbeknownst to him, my body is already soaked in radiation after months in this mountain. Anyone who touches me will slowly begin to rot, too...

Kaden Zacarias and I have been together for a decade. He gives me all his love throughout that time. But one day, I see the news of him marrying Gwendolyn Crawford as part of a marriage alliance. He tells his friends, "I'm only fooling around with Ella—does she think I'll actually marry her? It's not like my parents will ever agree to it. I can just keep her around as a mistress after getting married. Remember to keep your mouths shut about this." Our decade-long love goes up in flames, but I don't question him. Instead, I call my father with a withered heart and say, "I'll go through with the marriage alliance. I'll leave the country."

I've been married to the prince of the underworld for ten years and have endured countless life-or-death situations by his side. My hands, once trained to play the piano, are covered in calluses from holding guns and stained with blood. But at 28, my husband ends up falling for a young woman from the slums. She's as delicate and pure as a chamomile. She's his well-kept little secret—until I run into them at the woman's prenatal appointment one day. I storm up to him, demanding an explanation, only for him to nonchalantly hand me divorce papers. "Sonia is a devout follower of the church and can't have a child before marriage. I must make an honest woman out of her. Sign these, and you'll get 40% of the company's shares." I refuse to do as told, so he corners me. In the end, he has my crippled younger brother tied up and forced under a hydraulic compression machine. "Sign the papers, Maeve, or watch your brother become a human mince pie. The choice is yours." I fall on my knees and beg him to stop. As the machine turns on, my hands fly to my aching lower belly, and I scream as I lose consciousness. When I wake up again, I'm back in the hospital, in the same spot where I ran into my husband and his mistress at her prenatal appointment. This time, I don't confront him. Overnight, I make arrangements with a sanatorium abroad, get divorced, and run away from home. Yet the moment I truly disappear, my husband loses his mind.

My husband used to love me so much. Back then, he proposed 99 times just to marry me. It wasn't until the 100th proposal that I was finally moved by his persistence and became the envied Mrs. Frederick Morrison of Harbor City. On our wedding day, I gave him 99 reconciliation vouchers. We agreed that as long as these vouchers weren't used up, I would stay by his side forever. … It's been five years since then. Every time Frederick goes out to see another woman, he uses up one reconciliation voucher. Gradually, he suddenly notices that I've changed. I no longer cry or beg him to stay. Only when he loses his mind over his innocent secretary again do I quietly ask him, "Frederick, if you don't come back tonight, can I use a reconciliation voucher?" He pauses mid-step, then immediately turns. "Of course." He thinks he still has many reconciliation vouchers. He doesn't realize this is his last one.

By the fifth year of my marriage to River Grayson, I had stopped checking his call logs and chat records. Instead, I spent my nights drinking and partying with my girlfriends at the poolside bar. When his ninety-ninth missed call lit up my screen, I let out a cold laugh and tossed my phone straight into the water. It didn't take long before he came storming in. The moment he pulled the strawberry-scented condom out of my pocket, he turned grim and banned me from leaving the house after 7:00 PM. "Joanne, you weren't like this before." I thought back to last month, when I had run into him at the hospital. He had lied about being on a business trip out of town, but there he was, holding Yvonne Sinclair's hand. I still remembered his words. "You lost your uterus from saving me back then. My sperm is perfectly fine. I'll give you a child—with your mother's help." Now, staring into his furious eyes, I said coldly, "Don't worry. There's no going back for us anymore."

At the very beginning, he had said to her, "Wanwan, I shall fill your days with joy and happiness." Later on, he had said, "Ye Wanwan, why don't you go to hell?" As she stood upon the edge of a cliff and looked down into the abyss below, a serene expression settled on her face as she whispered helplessly, "It seems that after everything we've been through, we won't be growing old together after all, my dear Qing." At the moment of her death, however, he felt a twinge of pain in his heart. To whom would his love belong henceforth?

It's been five years since I started trying to win over Zachary Pierce. I even went so far as to have a child through IVF, hoping it would finally make him care. But no matter what I do, I can never reach 100 percent affection from him. It always stays at 99 percent. Sometimes it even drops lower. One day, exhausted and aching, I go looking for him. As I reach his room, I hear laughter coming from inside. "She still hasn't figured out the egg wasn't even hers. The moment the baby was born, Zach's affection score for her dropped to zero." "So what if she finds out? She should be grateful that her face looks so much like Yvonne's. Honestly, I'm done entertaining her. It's exhausting." At that moment, everything clicks. All the hope I've held onto, every sacrifice I've made, they were all just a joke. I turn away and say to the system, "End this for me. Send me to another world."

My fiance is the best Neuro Healer among the werewolves. His first love is his little stepsister, who once took a fatal silver arrow for him. Now, her old condition has flared up, and she has a fatal silver venom disease. She only has 21 days left to live. In order to stay with her in her final days, he pours his newly developed "Memory Lock Potion" into me to eliminate all my memories of him by force. He says, "It's just 21 days. Once she's gone, I'll feed you the antidote myself, and you'll remember me again." In those 21 days, he holds a grand bonding ceremony for his stepsister, dances with her during the Moon Goddess Festival, and makes an oath swearing that they will become mates again in their next life. Finally, he sends her off. After 21 days, the potion wears off, and he kneels in the rain with tears and blood all over his face. He asks hoarsely in an accusing tone, "The potion only lasts for 21 days… why have you forgotten me completely?" I just look up impassively at him. "Sorry, but who are you?"

On my husband's birthday, I poured my heart into preparing a feast and selecting the perfect gift. Yet, he didn't come home. Instead, I received a picture message—a snapshot of him at the hospital, standing outside the OB-GYN ward, his hand resting tenderly on his childhood crush's belly. Beneath the photo, a message read: [The best birthday gift and a symbol of our decade-long bond.] Furious, I called her. "Don't you know he's married?" Before I could say more, my husband snatched the phone and lashed out at me. "Yvonne just wanted to share the joy of becoming a mother. Why are you overreacting? "Yvonne and I have been best friends for over a decade. Your petty jealousy is disgusting!" I once believed his busyness was for our future, but now I knew—he had been busy supporting the girl of his dreams through her pregnancy. Clutching my own stomach, I bit my lip to stop the tears from falling. Ten years of love had drained away. It was time to let go.

On the way to get our marriage certificate for the twentieth time, Rolf Trivett regretted it once again. In eight years, this was our twentieth attempt to get the certificate. But every time we reached City Hall, he would always say he needed time to care for his seriously ill childhood friend and couldn't promise to marry me. This time, I couldn't take it anymore and asked him, "If she’s never going to get better, does that mean you’ll never marry me? What am I to you?" Rolf immediately lost his temper and yelled at me, "I've already promised to take care of her for life. Can you stop being so selfish? "Besides, we've been together for eight years. What difference does it make if we don't get this certificate?"