Nagisa Karma

My wife, a doctor, treated our daughter like a walking blood bank. When our daughter passed away, she took it even further. She transplanted her corneas into her old flame’s son. Before our daughter’s body was even cold, she was out having dinner with her ex and his son. They were celebrating that the boy could see again. She even went so far as to secretly burn our daughter’s body to get rid of any evidence. By the time I got there, all I saw was my daughter's ashes being swallowed up by the flames. I told her I wanted a divorce. She just sneered, “It’s only a daughter. Are you really going to divorce me over this?” But later, she was down on her knees, begging me not to leave her.

It was my 30th birthday, and my husband said he had a surprise for me. However, on the day of my birthday, he was nowhere to be found. I called him countless times, but no one answered. Just as I was about to panic and consider calling the police, I happened to see a post on the social media feed of his female secretary. “A typhoon hit, and my boss was worried about my safety, so he personally took me home. How wonderful! I’ve got a guardian angel for myself!” My anxiety turned to cold calm in an instant. I commented on her post: “Traveling during a typhoon is dangerous. Tell him he doesn’t need to come back.” Not long after I posted the comment, my husband called. “Kelly, I was only concerned about the safety of my subordinate, and yet you’re thinking such vile thoughts. “Birthdays come every year. Missing one won’t kill you!” You were right. Birthdays came every year. But there was no way I would celebrate them with you.

My husband's first love had been trapped in a car for an hour. After they pulled her out, his rage shifted onto me. “It’s your fault she got hurt,” he spat, his eyes blazing as he grabbed me. Before I could make sense of what was happening, he forced me into a wooden box, slamming the lid down with a deafening crack. “You’re going to feel every ounce of the pain she went through,” he hissed, nailing it shut. I pounded on the walls, my screams tearing through the air. “Please, I didn’t do anything! Let me out!” My throat burned with the effort, my fists aching, but nothing stopped him. “Stay in there until you’ve figured out how to act like a decent human being,” he said, his voice cold, dripping with contempt. Hours passed. My body twisted unnaturally in the tight space, bones throbbing as blood smeared the wood beneath me. I whispered into the dark, the pain unbearable. "Please… just let me out…" But he didn’t care. A week later, he returned, his laughter echoing with hers as they entered the house, carefree from their trip. He finally opened the box. But by then, I was already gone. The woman he locked away was no longer breathing, no longer pleading. Just a cold, silent corpse.

I was twelve when Henry Shaw took me home from the orphanage, gave me a new name, put me through school, and gave me a good life. Ten years later, his first love returned from abroad. Her name sounded like mine, and her face looked like a mirror image. I quickly realized I had been a stand-in all along. Crushing the diagnosis in my pocket, I decided that I was going to live the rest of my life for myself, even if I did not have much time left.

When the fire broke out, I called my husband, Hector. He didn't answer. Instead, he ran straight into the flames—to save my sister, Emma. They held each other, clinging to life, while I was trapped in the basement, watching my calls go ignored until all hope burned out. Afterward, Emma played innocent, twisting everything. She told him, "Hector, don't blame Sienna. She didn't leave me on purpose... she was just scared." Her lie made me the villain, and everyone bought it. Fueled by hatred, Hector spat, "She's so vicious—why didn't that fire just take her?" Three months later, the police found my body.

I was the stand-in who looked most like my husband's first love. He put me through countless plastic surgeries, both major and minor ones, until I became her exact likeness. But then, she came back from the dead. All it took was her saying, "I don't like anyone looking like me," and he sent me right back to the operating table once more. I begged him, telling him that my body couldn't handle it anymore. Alas, he only looked at me with irritation. "Seeing that cheap imitation of her face just disgusts me," he sneered. "No matter how close you come, you'll never be her." In the end, I died on that operating table. Yet, he went mad, trying desperately to recall what I once looked like.

Pendant cinq ans, mon compagnon destiné, l'Alpha Kaël, et moi avons vécu 98 cérémonies de marquage. Et chaque fois, ses crocs s'arrêtaient juste avant de m'atteindre le cou. Tout ça parce que l'Oméga qu'il disait considérer « comme une sœur » s'évanouissait toujours au moment parfaitement choisi. Lors de la 99ᵉ cérémonie, cette Oméga s'est de nouveau « blessée ». « Je te jure que je terminerai le marquage la prochaine fois », a dit Kaël en soulevant l'autre louve dans ses bras, sans même me jeter un regard. J'ai alors brûlé la robe de Luna que j'avais portée 99 fois, puis j'ai remis ma robe royale de princesse du Royaume d'Ombrelune. Ensuite, j'ai brisé le lien du destin et je suis partie sans me retourner. Ce n'est qu'au moment où Kaël a été frappé par une douleur brûlante et qu'il m'a suppliée de revenir que le Chaman lui a dit froidement : « Elle est une vraie princesse. Et toi, tu n'as jamais été digne d'elle. »

Ketika sahabatku mulai mengalami masalah rambut rontok parah, dia mendengar kabar bahwa mencuci rambut dengan ASI bisa mengaktifkan folikel rambut. Oleh karena itu, dia memintaku untuk meminjamkan ASI. Aku merasa hal itu sangat menjijikkan dan dengan alasan bahwa ASI-ku hanya cukup untuk anak perempuanku, aku menolaknya. Temanku tidak menyerah, dia akhirnya membeli ASI dari internet dengan harga tinggi. Sayangnya, ASI yang dia dapatkan mengandung virus dan dia terinfeksi sifilis. Alih-alih menerima akibat dari tindakannya sendiri, dia malah menyalahkan anak perempuanku. Pada suatu malam, dia diam-diam masuk ke rumahku dan menggunakan rambutnya sendiri untuk mencekik anakku hingga tewas. Setelah mengetahui kebenarannya, aku benar-benar kehilangan kendali. Aku mencabut semua rambut di kepalanya dan kemudian membunuhnya dengan sebilah pisau dapur. Namun, saat aku membuka mata, aku mendapati diriku kembali ke hari ketika dia pertama kali meminta meminjam ASI dariku.

Karena permintaan istrinya yang sedang sakit keras Abraham Wijaya, terpaksa meminta pembantunya menjadi istri kedua. "Tolong menikahlah dengan saya, Jihan agar Mikhaela bisa tenang di saat-saat terakhirnya. Apa pun yang kau minta akan kupenuhi. Setelah dia pergi, kau bebas melakukan apa saja!" ratap Abraham. Awalnya Jihan menolak. Namun, dia ingin balas Budi pada sang majikan dan menikah dengan kesepakatan yang mereka buat. Namun, Abraham mulai berubah setelah istri keduanya hamil. Membuat api cemburu pada istri pertama, sehingga Mikhaela meminta Jihan pergi dari kehidupan mereka selamanya. Lantas, akankah Jihan pergi dengan keadaan hamil? Atau tetap bertahan. Karena, susah mencintai sang suami?

Calon istriku adalah dokter forensik. Aku adalah petugas polisi investigasi kriminal. Aku mencintainya dengan sepenuh jiwa dan raga, tetapi dia hanya peduli pada cinta pertamanya. Demi membantu cinta pertamanya lolos dari kejahatan, dia membantunya mengenyahkan bukti. Dia tidak tahu bahwa itu adalah tubuhku. Setelah tahu kebenarannya, dia pun hancur ....