Este Dolor No Es Mio

Sa edad na 32 ay hindi pa naranasan ni Andrea ang magkaroon ng boyfriend. In short, siya ay NBSB o No Boyfriend Since Birth. Hindi naman siya kapangitan ngunit napakailap ng pagkatataon sa kanya. May nagawa ba siyang malaking kasalanan sa kanyang past life? Sa edad niya ay hindi na siya umaasa pa na may lalaki na magmamahal sa kanya ngunit gusto niya na magkaroon ng kahit isang anak man lang. Puwede naman na magkaroon ng anak na walang asawa kaya naisip niya maghanap ng sperm donor. Hindi artificial insemination ang gagawin kundi natural method. Sa kalagitnaan ng paghahanap niya ay nakilala niya si Martin na isang guwapong bilyonaryo. Unang pumasok sa isip niya na perfect match ang binata para sa kanya ngunit ang problema lang ay hindi siya nito gusto. Mapapayag kaya ito ni Andrea sa nais niyang mangyari? Paano kung hindi? Itutuloy pa ba niya ang paghahanap ng sperm donor o ititigil na lang at tatanggapin na lang na kailanma'y hindi siya magkaroon ng asawa't anak?

It's my wedding day. However, Julian Lancaster shoves me aside when he receives a call from Vivienne Hayes. "I'm sorry, honey. Vivi has an upset stomach—I need to bring her some medication for that."

I, Elena Rossi, was diagnosed with acute kidney injury a year ago. I need a kidney transplant to survive. My fiance, Dario Ajello, is the Don of the mafia family, and he looks everywhere to find a suitable kidney donor for me. As it turns out, my younger stepsister, Lucia Rossi, is the only person who is eligible to be my kidney donor. However, she refuses to take the five million dollars Dario offers her as compensation. Instead, she makes a ridiculous demand—that Dario pretend to be her boyfriend for an entire month. I am all against it. I would rather die than agree to her conditions in order to receive her kidney. Dario promises me that he won't fulfill her demands, but I soon find out that he still has agreed to be Lucia's boyfriend for a month. After learning the truth, I decide to give up on my treatment and silently make arrangements for my passing. That is because I know that Lucia will never donate her kidney to me, even if Dario fulfills his side of the obligations.

Mi prometido me pidió matrimonio en un puestito callejero, pero a ella le juró amor eterno en un yate de lujo. A 48 horas de la boda, lo dejé.

"I always thought I had found the perf 'Once she gives birth, I’ll divorce her.' 'When I have sex with her, I cover her head with a pillow because the other side of the pillow has your picture It turns out, I was just surrogate tool, and all his affection was fake. So, I When I started a new life, Gu Songqian came knocking on my door: 'Actually, I love both of you equally. From now on, you’ll live on the west side, and she’ll live on the east side, and you won’t disturb each other.'"

I loved Spencer. Even though I knew he only saw Fiona when he looked at me. I clung to the wedding dress he picked out himself, holding onto the dream of a future that felt so close. But on our wedding day, she came back. In front of everyone, he has my dress ripped apart—for her. Now, he knelt before my grave, begging for forgiveness. But all I could think was, even here, he was ruining my peace.

When the ruthless heir of a crime syndicate comes to collect an old debt, Jade's world shatters. His father owes money he can't repay, and his desperate solution is unthinkable. He offers Jade's underaged sister as a bride to the merciless Salvatore Domenico. But Jade won't let his sister be sacrificed. Instead, he steps forward, offering himself in her place. What Jade doesn't know is that Salvatore has been waiting for this moment. Years ago, Jade's powerful family branded Salvatore's father a traitor and had him killed. Now, Salvatore has returned, not for money, but for revenge. Taking Jade into his world of blood, loyalty, and violence should have been the perfect punishment. Yet, the closer Salvatore draws him into the shadows, the more the line between vengeance and desire blurs. Revenge was supposed to be sweet. But Jade tastes like something far more dangerous.

On my birthday, I personally prepare 16 dishes. After setting up the candlelight, I open a bottle of red wine. I take a photo and send it to my husband, Eric Sinclair. "I'm working late tonight. Don't wait for me," he replies. I choose to believe him. But after midnight, I notice an Instagram story posted by Shirley Huxley, his secretary. Eric was there with her, dressed in the trench coat I once gave him. They sat side by side in the VIP seat of football stadium where my favorite Super Bowl take place. Entwined in a passionate embrace, they kissed beneath a sea of shimmering lights and the roar of thousands of fans. That game is the one I have always longed to experience with him. I look down at the cold food on the table. Eric's words keep ringing in my head. "I hate kissing." "Marriage is a partnership, not about love and kisses." Though we've been married for ten years, we've never shared a single kiss. Meanwhile, he's out there, kissing Shirley openly and passionately. Despite it all, not a single tear falls from my eyes. The next day, Eric settles into his chair, completely unfazed. "Return the gallery to Shelly," he commands. I nod quietly, saying nothing. Suddenly, Layla Sinclair, my daughter, comes running down the stairs and throws herself into Shirley's arms. "Aunt Shirley, you're my favorite. I don't like Mom!" In that instant, it hits me—the home I devoted my heart and soul to means nothing anymore. It doesn't matter that I've been married to Eric for a decade. Now, all I want is to find myself again. I decide to accept an invitation from the Parisoir School of Fashion Design. From this moment on, I won't wait for them to come home, and I won't look back.

I run into a group of rogues on my way home for my daughter's birthday. I call my wife for help, but she blocks my number. I'm dragged out of the car, stabbed a dozen times, and thrown into the bushes to die. My neck is broken, and my organs are spilling out of my body. The rogues think I'm going to die—they even mention each other's names before me. Then, they drive off in my car while whistling happily. I hold onto my head and organs as I crawl to the roadside, hoping against hope that someone will save me. Before I'm taken to the hospital, I see my wife's social media update—she and her secretary have taken a sweet photo together while celebrating our daughter's birthday. The first thing I do after being discharged is demand a divorce.

I had moved out of our house, but my boyfriend—the one I had given up everything to run away with—had no idea. Neither did his possessive younger brother, the one who used to knock on my door calling for me. My boyfriend's first love had taken up all their attention. They no longer listened when I played the piano. They even forgot about my cat fur allergy and brought that woman's cat home. My boyfriend, Ian Blake, had snapped, "If anyone's leaving, it's you. There's no way Eva's cat is going anywhere." His brother, Sebastian, had said, "Sienna, Eva is my girlfriend. How could I give up her cat for you?" When I woke up in the hospital after going into anaphylactic shock from my allergy, I decided to leave them. Back home, I made my first call to my mother. "Mom, I'm ready to accept the arranged marriage."