Tragic Ending

"Kalila melahirkan. Lebih tepatnya, mau melahirkan." Bak dihatam palu godam, dadaku mendadak terasa sakit dan sesak. Tenggorokanku seketika tercekat, sehingga jangankan untuk bicara, bernapas pun teramat sulit. Gusti, kenapa ini semua terjadi? Apa selama ini aku salah mendidik Kalila? Tak ada angin tak ada hujan, tiba-tiba aku akan mempunyai cucu.

"Kamu harus jadi istri saya, Asma." -Basuki "Asma nggak mau nikah sama orang yang nggak bener-bener suka sama Asma." -Asmaranti Kisah ini bermula saat Basuki kembali menjadi seorang duda untuk kedua kalinya. Istri keduanya meninggal dunia setahun setelah melahirkan putra pertama mereka. Sama-sama menikah untuk yang kedua kalinya, mendiang istrinya memilik seorang putri yang sudah beranjak dewasa. Dia Asmaranti, seorang gadis muda berparas cantik yang dengan baik hati mau merawat Dika setelah kepergian Ranti. Singkat cerita, karena telah terbiasa hidup bersama, membuat benih-benih cinta mulai tumbuh di antara keduanya. Namun Asma berusaha menepis perasaan itu karena takut jika Basuki hanya mencintai dirinya karena masih belum bisa melupakan bayang-bayang ibunya. Lalu bagaimana Basuki meyakinkan Asma jika perasaannya ini adalah nyata?

Nayla Prameswari terancam dikeluarkan dari kampus setelah beasiswanya dicabut dan tunggakan kuliah menumpuk. Tanpa keluarga yang peduli dan pekerjaan yang cukup, ia berada di titik terendah hidupnya. Rafael Aditya Santoso, pengusaha muda dengan pernikahan hambar, muncul tepat saat Nayla hampir menyerah. Ia menawarkan jalan keluar yang tidak pernah Nayla bayangkan: > “Aku bayar semua kuliahmu… kalau kamu bersedia menjadi istriku—secara diam-diam.” Desakan hidup membuat Nayla menerima perjanjian itu. Sejak hari itu ia menjalani dua kehidupan: mahasiswi biasa di kampus, dan istri simpanan di balik pintu apartemen rahasia. Namun ketika Larissa—istri sah Rafael—mulai curiga, hubungan terlarang itu berubah menjadi badai besar yang mengancam menghancurkan mereka semua.

I'm sold into the underground and turned into an anthropodermic fan, suffering endless days of humiliation. It isn't until my spine shatters from a hammered nail that my brother—Daxon Smyth—and my fiance—Joshua Moore—finally arrive. The two men who've doted on me for 20 years swear to make the guilty pay in blood. And I think my salvation has come. But when I overhear their words, I realize the truth—every torment I've suffered is of their doing, all to make me behave and stop me from competing with the true heiress they've found. When another man carries me away from that place, they lose their minds and scour through all ends of the world, trying to find me.

When my family went bankrupt, I was drugged and sent to the bed of my childhood sweetheart, Craig Kennedy. From that night, he brought women home every evening, tossing a divorce agreement in my face. "Beg me, and I won't leave you." He stood above me, watching as I humbled myself to dust, pleading to preserve our marriage. He even ordered me to kneel in his office and massage the feet of his secretary, Lucia Langston. On the day the Moore Group needed ten million to survive, she blocked all my desperate calls for help. I waited 24 hours, watching my family's legacy collapse and my parents take their lives. Craig, with Lucia at his side, entered the house and threw the signed divorce agreement at me again. "You wanted money to save your family, didn't you? Beg me, and as long as I don't divorce you, no one will touch them." But I signed it with calm despair. "Don't bother. We no longer need your help."

"I don't want to go with you on this business trip," Lucy Landon said at the dinner table. Her voice was calm, so calm that no one could sense anything unusual. Steven Cooper's trip was set for June 1st. It wasn't their wedding anniversary, nor was it anyone's birthday. Just an ordinary Children's Day. Three days ago, she had stumbled upon a voice message on Steven's phone. A child's soft and childish voice had said, "Daddy, for Children's Day, I want to go to Maldove to see the fishes!"

On my way home from the night shift, a patient who held a grudge against my husband, the hospital director, forced half a bottle of pesticide down my throat. Terrified, I called my husband, Jasper Flint, for help. He rushed over and saved me. I survived by sheer luck. But tragically, his first love, Ruby Gray, died in a car accident on her way home that same night. After Ruby's funeral, Jasper carried on as if nothing had happened. I thought he had finally let her go. But on New Year's Eve, he poisoned our food, tied up my parents and me, and took us hostage. Through tears, I begged him to spare my parents. He killed them right in front of me. Their blood splashed across my face. "If you hadn't been so jealous of Ruby, if you hadn't pretended to drink pesticide just to lure me away, she never would've driven off like that. She'd still be alive!" he snarled. "How does it feel to watch your parents die? When Ruby died, what I felt was a thousand times worse than this! Since you like drinking pesticides so much, go ahead. Drink up!" Jasper forced my mouth open and poured the poison down my throat. I died in agony beside my parents' bodies. And then I opened my eyes—only to find myself reborn alongside Jasper. This time, Jasper chose to save his first love.

Imagine my shock when I found out that my husband, a professor who had proudly embraced a childless life for half of his years, had an affair with one of his own students. She even had his six-year-old son. The day I planned to report him to the university, Zia Thompson came to my door with the child and knelt in front of me. "Maybe you and Zeke were in love once," she said. "But he's over forty now. Who doesn't want to have a child? A legacy?" "I don't need a title," she went on. "I can give up the child too. I just beg you, don't tear our family apart." I looked at my husband, who stood protectively in front of them. I felt terrifyingly calm. "Cut ties with them," I said, my voice flat, "or prepare to be reported to the university. You choose." Without a moment's hesitation, he tore the report letter into shreds. I thought that was his answer. But on the fifty-second night of a bed grown cold and a home echoing with silence, he still hadn't returned. Instead, I received news that Zia was pregnant again. She had graduated by then. The report I never sent no longer posed any threat to them. Zeke didn't bother to hide his fatigue and irritation anymore. "Treat Zia and the kids well," he said, "or keep living alone in that empty house. It's your choice." My heart was already a wasteland. "I have one more option," I said. "I choose divorce."

I was a broken human, surviving in Northern Wolf Kingdom. Once, I was attacked by the mortal enemy of the Northern Wolf Kingdom for generations—a pack composed of werewolves who believed in dark forces—and I almost died. It was Rhett, the half‑wolf scorned by all, who shifted and ripped through werewolves to save me. Blood-soaked, he cradled me as my breath faded and said, "Fiona, anyone who touches you dies." To keep a human at his side, he challenged the elders one by one, until he ruled the entire Northern Wolf Kingdom. He named me his fated mate, the only Luna Queen he would ever recognize. Then the former Alpha King's daughter appeared, her belly heavy with pup. Her gaze brimmed with provocation as she sneered, "Rhett said your human body is too weak to bear pups. For the survival of the Kingdom, he must claim me. I am the one true Luna Queen of the Wolf Kingdom." "A defective creature like you is fit only to be his pet, not to carry the Alpha King's heir." I laughed softly and drew a blade forged of pure silver, made to kill wolves. The edge pressed to her swollen belly. The silver scorched her skin, and she screamed. Through the mind-link, I spoke to Rhett: "Do you hear that? Your precious treasure is screaming. So tell me, are you going to protect the future of your Kingdom, or make sure the knife in your 'pet's' hand doesn't go any deeper?"

In my final year of high school, my parents died, leaving me nothing but a crumbling brick house. And yet, I somehow got myself a younger brother. He was a second-year student at our school, at the top of his grade. But no one respected him. Even when he was bullied, the teachers turned a blind eye. Why? Because even if others didn't beat him, his drunken father did it every day, while his cowardly mother never dared to fight back. I dragged him home with all my strength, patched up his wounds, and kept him with me for several days. Later, when his mother was beaten to death, I called the police and had his father arrested. "Hey," I told him, "from now on, live with me. I don't have any family left. Call me sister, and I'll put you through school." He dreamed of getting into a prestigious university. So I dropped out, set up a street stall, sold my own blood, and even took illegal jobs just to support him. When he graduated, he said he wanted to start a business. I gave him every cent of my savings. And then one day, I watched him stand beneath the dazzling lights, a radiant girl at his side, holding a trophy for a youth entrepreneurship award. I looked down at the cancer diagnosis in my hands. A bitter smile tugged at my lips. In the end, I had raised him into someone I could no longer reach. It was time for me to leave the stage.