What Are The Best Quotes About Birthdays And Friends?

This is a diary of dark, depraved thoughts. Turn the page if you dare. *** *** She’s a secret erotic artist. Behind closed doors, she sketches the same man over and over again—filthy, dangerous, and forbidden. Then she sells the drawings to the black market to pay for her mother’s medical bills and her sister’s college tuition. It should be simple. Except the man in those drawings isn’t a stranger. He’s Dominic—her father’s best friend. Every sinful stroke of her brush chips away at her innocence and poisons her love life. Every relationship she tries to build ends the same way—ruined by a man who doesn’t even know she’s obsessed with him. Until the night everything goes wrong. She wants to stop, wants a fairytale love life, but she owes her anonymous collectors one more portrait. Determined to make one final drawing of her darkest fantasy, she locks herself in her studio… only for Dominic to walk in and see the explicit portraits displayed across her walls. Her secret should destroy her. Instead, Dominic makes her a far more dangerous deal. For 365 days, she’ll work for him as his obedient secretary—and in return, he’ll keep her scandalous secret buried. But the closer she gets to the man she’s spent years drawing in the dark, the harder it becomes to remember one thing: Some fantasies should never come to life.

On my 16th birthday, I treat myself to the most delicious cake I can find. On that day, before I can even take a bite, my parents, who are always at odds with each other, sign their divorce papers right in front of me. So, on my wedding day, I tell my wife, Keira Jarrett, "If you ever want a divorce, just get me a birthday cake." She hugs me tightly and promises me."Don't worry. 'Birthday' won't even be a word in our home anymore." Seven years later, on Keira's birthday, her assistant, Jackson Price, throws her a surprise party. She slaps him across his handsome, gentle face and kicks him out of Jarrett Group. That day, I am convinced I have chosen the right woman for life. But three months later, on my birthday, I find out the supposedly fired Jackson has been promoted to Keira's personal secretary. He personally delivers a custom-made birthday cake to me. I call Keira to demand an explanation, but her voice on the other end is cold and distant. "Jack meant well. Don't be a spoilsport." I freeze for a moment, then hang up. It turns out my parents are right all along. The only way a birthday cake tastes right is when it's served with divorce papers.

He is supposed to be my best friend—at least I have been seeing him as one—doing a lot of things with him together. We go to school together, share the same hobbies, and love the same sports. He is my day one, my buddy. Up until after the summer vacation when we started a new life in the same college as freshmen. That is when I discover that I have developed a soft spot for him, which accounts for the way I missed him during the summer vacation. I have never missed Liam like that. I mean, I do miss him but not compared to last summer. I wanted him around me and his image occupied my mind's eye. Starting college with a crush on my best friend is not an ideal way to begin the academic year. No matter how I try to suppress it by going on dates and accepting relationship proposals from guys, instead of it going away, it doubles. Worse still, he sees me as his buddy. He has never looked at me the way he looks at other girls. I know I am a bit of a tomboy. My other friends tell me that my dress sense is a bit masculine. I try changing my fashion sense but to no avail. Sadly, all I am to Liam is his day one bestie and buddy. I do not want to tell him about the feelings I have because I do not want to put our friendship in jeopardy. I had already given up hope Until the dare at one of my other friend's parties _ Evie. The dare for Liam to kiss me. The kiss opens another chapter; I would never have believed in my entire life to be possible—Liam actually likes me!

I was a child who was born in a vocational school's toilet. To my mom, I was a stain in her life that she was given birth to after having her cherry popped by a delinquent when she was still young. I knew that Mom had been trying to kill me. Unfortunately, she hadn't succeeded so far. The first time she tried to get rid of me was when she decided to give birth to me in the toilet. It was a cold, winter month, yet she didn't give me anything warm to wear. The second time she attempted murder was when she got into grad school, which was based in the north. No one was around to take care of me, so she turned on the gas while holding me in her arms and clutching her train ticket. The third and last time happened when Mom was about to marry the man she loved. On the night before her wedding, she had tears streaming down her cheeks as she told me, "You're nothing but a burden. You ruined my life! "Do you know that I can only forget about all the pain and suffering you caused me after you die? Only then can I start a brand new chapter in my life!" I wiped Mom's tears off her face with my tiny hand. So, her wish was for me to die. On my birthday, my fever hit 104 degrees Fahrenheit. That was when I finally received the first slice of birthday cake in my entire life. I didn't have the heart to eat it, so I made my wish solemnly. "I hope that I will die soon." I heard that birthday wishes often came true. That way, Mom would be very happy.

On our wedding anniversary, I canceled all my meetings and made a reservation at a restaurant. That evening, my wife, the renowned investigative journalist Amaya Shaw, called me. “Efim, I’m sorry! I just received a tip from a source. It’s urgent. “It involves inside information about a well-known company. I have to go verify it immediately!” But the next day, I saw that Javor Furey, the junior she had brought along, had posted a collage on his social media. The central photo showed Amaya wearing a childish birthday hat. Her head was pressed against Javor’s, as they made a wish together in front of a cake covered in candles. This was the caption. [Thanks, my dear Ms. Shaw! Even in the midst of her busy schedule chasing big stories, she remembered to give me this surprise birthday!] [Chasing big stories.] I stared at those three words. Then, I glanced at the limited-edition bag on our dining table. It was the one she had been raving about for half a year. It was the anniversary gift I had prepared for her. I felt absurd. I commented just two words under that post. [How touching.] Her call came in almost the second I hit send. She sounded furious. “Efim, do you have to be so sarcastic? “It’s just an anniversary. How old are you? Why are you still celebrating such childish anniversaries?” From our first year of marriage to the present, her “tip-offs from informants” and “special circumstances” always took precedence over our promises. This time, she could not even be bothered to come up with a plausible excuse. I did not say anything. I hung up and blocked her number. This marriage was over.

My best friend called me sobbing at two in the morning, saying she owed three hundred thousand dollars in online loans and was begging me to save her life. I told her I'd help cover half. She grabbed my phone and transferred all three hundred thousand. "It's just money—why are you being so stingy? You make six figures. Helping me out shouldn't be a big deal." I swallowed it. A month later, she posted Maldives vacation photos on Instagram. When I asked when she planned to pay me back, she replied—right there in the comments, where every mutual friend could see— "God, stop nagging. Maybe spend that energy making more money instead, you cheapskate. So annoying." I screenshotted everything. Then I opened the civil complaint I'd already drafted. This kind of best friend? We could catch up in court.