Foto Karma Akabane

Najwa Asyifa, perempuan berusia 26 tahun yang sudah menikah selama dua tahun dengan Fabian Rizki yang lebih tua enam tahun dibanding dirinya. Pernikahan itu awalnya indah. Namun, semenjak kehadiran Ibu mertua dan adik ipar yang ikut tinggal bersama mereka, keadaan akhirnya berubah. Puncaknya, ketika Najwa mendapat sebuah kabar buruk. Sang suami membawa wanita lain ke rumahnya dan mengakui wanita itu sebagai istri kedua. * Kau bilang, aku tak bisa tanpamu, Mas. Ah, Benarkah? Ku rasa, itu terbalik. Bukankah, justru kau yang tak bisa tanpaku?

AKU TANPAMU menceritakan pasang surutnya kehidupan Tania Nadira sepeninggal suami tercintanya, Farhan Ibrahim. Tania kembali menemukan jodohnya, namun ternyata bayang-bayang masa lalu kelam sang suami menghantui perjalanan rumah tangganya. Bagaimana akhir kisah cinta Tania? Akankah kebahagiaannya harus kembali terenggut?

FICTIONARY TALES: A collection of short stories. Welcome to fictionary tales all written by me which include topics such as KARMA, Love, Revenge, Trauma, Tragedy, Happy endings, Sad endings, Mystery, Adventure and so much more!!

Di hari ulang tahun pernikahan kami, aku membersihkan rumah dan menemukan sebuah album foto. Ternyata, setiap tahun di hari ini, suamiku selalu mengambil foto pernikahan bersama cinta sejatinya. Dari usia 40 hingga 60 tahun, dari rambut hitam hingga beruban, selama dua puluh tahun dia tidak pernah absen. Di balik setiap foto ada tulisan tangan suamiku: "Cinta abadi selamanya." Jika yang dia cintai bukan aku, aku tidak perlu lagi mencucikan bajunya, memasak untuknya, mengurus anak, hingga merawat cucu. Setengah hidupku telah kujalani dengan sia-sia, tetapi tidak ada kata terlambat untuk berubah sekarang.

El día que papá asistió a una fiesta con su ex y se volvió tendencia, todos se burlaban de mi mamá. Decían que había dejado atrás una gran carrera para entrar en una familia rica, pero después de treinta años seguía sin nombre ni lugar, sin siquiera el valor de reclamarle a la amante. Después de tanto llorar, mamá me miró cansada. —Él me falló primero, así que yo tampoco lo quiero. —Amanda, ¿te vas conmigo? Justo entonces sonó mi celular. Era un mensaje de mi novio de siete años: "Amanda, solo es un acta de matrimonio. ¿No podemos seguir como novios?" Guardé silencio unos segundos antes de asentir. Así fue que, el mismo día de su boda, mamá y yo desaparecimos entre las llamas de la mansión.

Luna Baxter and Simon Fulmer have been married for five years. One day, she receives a provocative voice message and intimate photos from Simon's first love. They're sent from his phone, too. "I've only been back in the country for half a year, but he took the bait as soon as I laid it. He's prepared blue fireworks for me tonight, but I don't like the color blue. To avoid wastage, you can have them on your wedding anniversary." Luna and Simon's fifth wedding anniversary comes a month later. She looks out the window at the blue fireworks lighting up the sky. Then, her gaze lands on the empty seat across from her. Simon's first love challenges her again. She sends her a photo of them having a candlelight dinner. Luna doesn't cry or kick up a fuss. She silently signs a divorce agreement and asks Simon's secretary to prepare for a wedding. "What are the bride's and groom's names, Mrs. Fulmer?" "Simon Fulmer and Sophie Sutherland." Seven days later, she flies to Naavi to give them her blessings. She throws them a wedding.

Larut malam, aku berbaring di kursi taman dan membuka lebar kakiku dan memuaskan diriku, sambil memandang pria berotot setinggi dua meter. Aku tahu dia sedang melihatku dan juga tahu aku sedang melakukan hal yang sangat gila. Namun, sensasi ini malah membuatku tertantang. Membuatku kehilangan kemampuan untuk berpikir. Semakin aku menikmatinya, semakin haus rasanya dan semakin sulit untuk berhenti.

During a critical heart transplant, my doctor husband insisted his intern assist despite her garish nail art compromising the sterile field. When I called her out, he abandoned the patient mid-surgery to comfort her. I begged him to return, but he snapped, "Giselle is upset. Can't you wait? This is nothing compared to her feelings." 40 minutes later, the patient bled out and died. Later, they discovered that he was our highly respected mayor and placed the blame on me. "If it weren't for you causing a scene and kicking us out of the operating room, the mayor wouldn't have bled to death. This is all your fault!" Defenseless, I was sentenced to life in prison, tortured, and died in agony. My husband and his intern walked down the aisle, enjoying their happy life. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day of that fateful surgery.

My husband worked overtime in the studio and suffered from an explosion. His body was blown to pieces. When my bestie frantically told me the news, I just nodded calmly. She called and texted me nonstop. She urged me to go to the site to recognize my husband's body. I blacklisted her and bought a ticket to go abroad. In my previous life, when I heard the news, I stopped at nothing and rushed to my husband's studio. However, I only saw my husband's cold ashes. My bestie said that my husband had poured out his troubles to her once. My husband said that I had run up a mountainous debt for gambling. He wanted a divorce, but I threatened him that he would have a sky-high debt if he divorced me. Even my mother cried and accused me of often going to the casino and taking men home at midnight. But none of this was true. I treated my husband very well; just a few days ago, I gave him a million-dollar watch as a gift. And I had never done anything related to gambling. Facing their accusation, I chose to call the police to prove my innocence. However, the police discovered my diamond necklace at the explosion site, where forensic experts also found my fingerprints. I failed to prove my innocence and became the heinous murderer who killed my husband. My mother took me to court for justice and took over my business empire. In jail, I was retaliated and died. When I opened my eyes again, I regained my life on the day when my husband suffered from the explosion.

In my last life, my brother Leo—the heir to the Moretti crime family—stripped our estate bare of every last soldier, all for a Vegas jaunt. All because his new flame, Scarlett, had a jones for the high-roller tables. The Volkovs—our rivals, the very ones Leo had just pissed off—saw their opening and stormed our gates. My mother, Sofia, took a bullet meant for me. Died protecting me. I blew up Leo’s phone, my pleas turning to screams. He didn't answer. He waltzed back in after the shooting stopped, bringing our men home, but far too late for it to matter. Then, the news from Vegas. Scarlett was gone. A suicide note left behind. In it, she painted me as the monster. The one who’d leaked our weaknesses to the Volkovs. The one who'd orchestrated a fake kidnapping and torture plot, all to drive her to despair and lure Leo home. A perfect, tragic lie. Leo read the letter calmly. Then he burned the letter and told me, "Forget it. It's handled." Father tore into Leo for abandoning his post, for leaving his family to die. And me? I was named the new Consigliere. But after the celebration, Leo cornered me in the wine cellar. His face was a mask of cold fury as he pressed the barrel of his gun to my forehead. "This is for family traitors," he hissed, his voice pure venom. "The throne is my birthright, not some backstabbing bitch's prize!" When I opened my eyes again, I was back. Right in the middle of the fire and the blood. This time, I shoved my mother behind me, dragging her toward the panic room. And the bastards who were too blind to believe me? They’ll regret it.