On our third anniversary, my boyfriend said he couldn't get away from a project overseas. He told me to take a trip on my own.   I rented a bike and rode around Lake Bellmere, stopping for a break in Willow Quay.   The wooden bridge at the rest stop was covered with locks carved by couples. I trailed my fingers across them, then I froze.   The last one in the third row read: Gavin Kessler & Cecily Morrow. Our First Trip, 2022.   Gavin Kessler was my boyfriend.   It had to be a coincidence. I smiled and leaned closer to check the date.   A young woman with a canvas bag walked over, hung a new lock on the bridge, and dusted off her hands.   "Are you hanging one, too? My boyfriend and I carve one every year. This is our third."   She sounded proud as she pointed out the first two.   I followed her finger. A line of smaller writing was carved into the back of the first lock.   Gavin promised to bring me back every year.   The signature was exactly like my boyfriend's.   Still pointing at the locks, she asked, "Have you and your boyfriend been here together?"   I tightened my grip on the handlebars and forced a smile.   "We have. But his memory's terrible. He only remembers to bring other women."

During the November sale, my fiancé, Conrad Pike, surprised me with a buy-one-get-one-free coffee order from Brewline Coffee for 1.90 dollars. He sent me the pickup code and told me, so lovingly, that it was his first gift to me that winter. I went to the counter, thrilled, only to learn that the girl by the window had already collected it. I walked over, pretended I was waiting for a table, and sat across from her with a friendly smile. "That 1.90-dollar deal is really working. There are lines everywhere." She stirred her drink with her straw, looking disgusted. "What's the point if it tastes like dishwater? I wouldn't touch this cheap stuff if my boyfriend hadn't insisted two-for-one was romantic. At least he knew enough to send me 9,999 dollars to make up for it." She held up her phone, practically glowing as she showed off the transfer. I could clearly see that Conrad Pike had sent it. His profile picture was the business portrait I'd spent 3,000 dollars on when I went with him to the photo shoot last month. After 7 years together, I apparently wasn't even worth a 0.95-dollar coffee. All she had to do was complain about the taste, and she got 9,999 dollars. I didn't cry or make a scene. I suggested adding each other on the app so we could split future deals, then quietly photographed the transfer on her screen. If he liked two-for-one deals so much, I'd give him a wedding gift on New Year's Day that he would never forget.

My husband and I had chosen not to have children. Whenever anyone questioned our decision, he was the first to push back. Then he'd reassure me. "Not having a baby is a good thing for models like us. I don't want you worrying about what pregnancy might do to your figure. If you want to be a mom without going through childbirth, we can adopt." I was touched. I nodded, and we went to a children's home to adopt a little girl. I loved her as my own, but she was only affectionate with Malcolm Pierce. She even pushed me down the stairs. Heartbroken, I begged him to send her away. "A model needs her legs. I have runway shows to do. I can't let her destroy my career!" For the first time, he snapped at me. "She's just a child. Why are you holding it against her? I'll talk to her tonight. I promise she won't hurt you again." I wasn't convinced, so I followed him in secret. He was holding the sulking girl in his arms, soothing her. "You're 25. Why are you still acting like a child? Don't worry. As long as I'm here, that old witch won't make you leave." The girl he'd brought home was an adult with dwarfism. If that was how he wanted to play it, his modeling career was over.

On my wedding day, Maelle Corven, the girl my fiancé had supported financially for five years, stormed into our wedding venue with a knife. She pressed the blade against her neck until a small bead of blood appeared. "Blaise Rourke! If you dare marry another woman, I'll die right here!" For the first time, I saw panic on Blaise's face. His eyes turned red as he lifted her into his arms, his hands trembling with fear. "Mae, I'll give you anything you want. Please, don't do anything foolish, okay?" Afraid that Maelle might hurt herself, Blaise replaced me with her as the bride. Even when my mother fainted from the shock and humiliation in front of everyone, he refused to change his mind. Looking at the ring on my finger, which was clearly a size too tight, I felt my heartache. "Blaise, did you know she was going to cause a scene? Had you already planned to replace me all along?" Blaise was still comforting Maelle in his arms. When he heard my question, he turned to me and sighed. "Zaylie Quillane, Maelle saved me from drowning . . . I owe her my life. I can't just stand by and watch her take her own life. Besides, the wedding is just a formality . . . Don't make such a big deal out of something so small. "Once we officially register our marriage, I'll take you to Iceland for the honeymoon you've always wanted." On the stage, two voices rang out in unison. "I do." Blaise looked at Maelle with such tenderness and devotion that it hurt to watch. I knew that looked too well. I knew just how important Maelle was to him. My phone vibrated. A voice message from someone appeared on the screen. "Zaylie, the wedding I promised you will always be yours." I wiped the tears from the corners of my eyes, took off my ring, and turned to leave. Blaise had no idea that, this time, I was truly done with him. Just as he had no idea that I was the one who had saved him back then.

My husband, Julian Thorne, had three cases of top-grade cherries flown in for my best friend, Sasha Vale. All I got was a small bag that had already started to rot. He was watching TV, his tone as casual as ever. "Sasha's been talking about them for a month. You should try some." It was the same as always. Our life together kept turning into a three-person show with Sasha at the center. On our third anniversary, he canceled on me without a second thought because Sasha had made last-minute plans. When we were having a moment, one call from Sasha was all it took for him to get up and fall into an animated conversation with her. They had gone to the same college and never ran out of things to say. I was always the third wheel. I looked at the bag of rotting cherries and the message from my assistant, Priya. 'It's time to cut my losses.'

My wedding with Lewis Wheeler seemed to be cursed.  The first time we planned to hold our wedding, a heavy rainstorm struck in the middle of the night, flooding the whole city. The wedding car couldn't get through because it was soaked in the flood.  Lewis softly comforted me. "As long as you're my bride, it can be delayed a few days."  The second time, there was a fire at the hotel the night before our scheduled wedding.  My best friend, Mandy Wilson, told me bluntly, "You two are both busy. You don't need to insist on having a wedding. Don't tempt fate. Who knows what it'll throw at you next."  I wasn't superstitious and talked about rescheduling again with Lewis, who was on a business trip overseas.  Not long after the video call connected, the screen jolted, and a ceiling tile fell on Lewis.  I panicked and shouted, "I won't have the wedding anymore. I just want you to come back alive!"  The camera caught the whole conversation.  I watched it repeatedly and suddenly noticed the welcome sign that had burned in the fire.  The date on the sign was today. ***** When I arrived at the hotel, Lewis was safe and sound, but his first love, Rosa Lynn, was in my wedding dress, smiling as she linked arms with him to greet the guests.  Mandy was collecting wedding gifts nearby, and all the crew members came to congratulate us.  I glanced down at my bad leg and saw that the accessible stage I had set up for myself was already gone, and my heart sank. Since this so-called curse was just a sham to force me to cancel the wedding, I wouldn't be with him anymore.

Connor Johnson was a completely obsessed, overprotective brother to his younger sister. He never once took care of me during meals throughout our relationship because his sister forbade it. When I tried to hold his hand while we were walking on the street, he would pull away because his sister wouldn't allow it. When things got heated between us, and I wanted to kiss him, he would turn me down, saying his sister might find out. I threw fits and argued with him about it nonstop, but he always fobbed me off with gifts. It wasn't until we were out shopping together that I heard the so-called sister speak when I came back from the restroom. "You two haven't done anything intimate lately, have you?" Connor smiled and reached up to pull a tiny camera out from around his neck. "You've been watching the footage this whole time, right? Whenever Zoey asks me to do something, I immediately use you as an excuse to turn her down." I was shaking water off my hands when I froze, as if even the droplets were suspended in midair for a second. Janice Fisher nodded in satisfaction. "There are 3 days left until the marriage alliance assessment. Don't lose that camera. Also, our family has agreed to let you keep Zoey on the side. Now it's just up to how you tell her." I stood stiffly behind the wall, barely able to believe what I was hearing. Connor nodded, tucking the camera back into place. "Yeah, I'll talk to her today. She gets the wedding, and you get the official title. Perfect timing. You're pregnant, aren't you?" A shy look crossed Janice's face, and she couldn't help but giggle. The longer I watched, the more I felt like there was a gaping hole in my heart that felt ice-cold all the way through. So his so-called "younger sister" was his mistress the whole time. Well, fine then. I didn't have any reason to stay anymore.

It took me 5 years to stand by my dentist husband, Keith Jenkins, from the time he was suspended from practicing until he got back to performing surgery again. When his condition was at its worst, his hands shook the moment he put on gloves, so badly that he couldn't even hold a pair of forceps steadily. I bought a whole crate of oranges, and stuck by him while he practiced the most basic suturing techniques from scratch. On the night he completed his first successful patient consultation after his return to practice, he made a silver ring for me with his own hands. Two words were engraved on the inner band: My Only. He said that at home, he would be my one and only private doctor. Later, he became a renowned expert in the field, yet he refused to check my wisdom tooth that had been hurting for 3 days. Not wanting to put pressure on him, I signed up for a hospital appointment by myself. That day, after the tooth extraction, the anesthetic hadn't yet worn off. I was holding my cheek as I walked out of the treatment room, only to spot my husband, who was supposed to have gotten off work already, at the end of the corridor. The new female intern was sitting in the dental chair, her eyes red, saying she couldn't handle pain. Half-kneeling in front of her, he had pulled his gloves back on and patiently examined her inflamed wisdom tooth. As soon as she flinched, he paused to comfort her. "Relax. I'll stay late tonight to get this sorted out for you." The nurse reminded him that his shift was already over. Without looking up, he replied, "It's fine. She has to assist in surgery tomorrow, so she can't stay in pain like this." I stood around the corner, the taste of blood slowly spreading in my mouth. So it wasn't that he couldn't stay late after work. He just wasn't willing to do it for me. Since he was no longer my personal doctor, I wouldn't want him as my husband, either.

My best friend, Sereia Ellsworth, went through a terrible experience where her partner cheated on her, and after that she decided no man could be trusted. The day I took my wealthy boyfriend to meet her, she poured water sharply onto the floor and said, "Men like him are the most unfaithful. Sooner or later, he will leave you too." Maelor Valmont did not take offense. He held me close and said firmly, "You are mistaken. If that day ever comes, may I lose everything I have." My best friend gave a snort. "As if anyone would care." From then on, the two of them clashed constantly, and I was caught in the middle. My company sent me to headquarters for a three-month training program. In my second month there, I came across a post online. I can't help falling in love with my best friend's fiancé. We are like sisters. What should I do? Every comment section was filled with people saying she was wrong, that you never go after your best friend's partner. Then I saw a post from an account I recognized. It isn't her fault. I'm the one who fell for her. Her past breaks my heart. All I want is to take care of her for the rest of my life. My fingers trembled as I clicked to view the photo. It showed the two of them holding each other, watching a meteor shower. I went cold all over. The dress she was wearing was the limited-edition birthday gift I had given my best friend earlier that year.

My sister, Ann Bellamy, is endlessly creative and full of bright ideas. The only problem is, everything she messes around with belongs to me. Mom and Dad dote on her and let her get away with anything. "Learn a little something from Ann, you're far too serious all the time." Even when I talked to my boyfriend, Lyndon Ashford, about how hurt and frustrated I was, he just told me to be more understanding and let it go.  There's only one place I've never allowed any of them to go near: the small garden plot I'd turned into a planting bed in the backyard. I study agricultural science, and every vegetable I grow there is part of a major research and breeding program. I guarded it as carefully as I could, but my sister still set her sights on it. To her, nothing belongs to anyone, everything is just a blank space waiting for her wild, imaginative ideas. First, my young seedlings died because a dog relieved itself all over them. Then people picked my ripening fruits and vegetables just so she could post them online and get more likes and followers. As Halloween got closer, she fixed her attention on one huge pumpkin growing right by the garden wall.  What she doesn't know is that this single pumpkin is the only surviving specimen from a nationally registered breeding project. 

My mother-in-law, Judith Carver, had never thought I was good enough. Yet when she was dying, her greatest wish was to see me. She lay in her hospital bed, holding my hand, her eyes full of sorrow. "Nadine, I've been awful to you all these years you've been married to Victor. I was wrong, and I'm sorry. You've worked so hard looking after me since I got sick, and I accused you of putting on an act. I should never have treated you that way." As she spoke, she pressed a red box into my hand with trembling fingers. "This is something precious I want you to have. Keep it close to your body every day. Remember, you must keep it with you. Don't open it until 49 days have passed." My husband thought it held gold bars or a bank card. His sister thought it was a priceless family heirloom. I was the only one who felt uneasy. After tormenting me for so many years, how could Judith have changed overnight? When her scheme finally came to light, I broke out in a cold sweat.

My childhood sweetheart had a serious savior complex. As a boy, he'd chased away the thugs following me. As a man, he'd spoiled me until no one in Portmere dared tell me no. I barged into a meeting and ruined a deal worth 10 million dollars. All he wanted to know was whether my feet hurt in those heels. I snapped the emblem off his brand-new car. He immediately bought two more so I could keep breaking them. Everyone said my outrageous behavior was why he kept putting off our wedding. Even his new assistant tried to reason with me. The moment I picked up the antique vase, Bethany Cole rushed over to stop me. "That's one of a kind. It's Mr. Vale's favorite. If you keep this up, you might never become Mrs. Vale." I remained perfectly calm. "Good. I stopped wanting that a long time ago."