How Does Dead Star Summary Reimagine The Emotional Conflicts Between The Main CP In Their Post-War Reunion?

Maeve spent a decade loving Alexander, who was in love with her sister. She found out the hard way — bleeding into concrete, pregnant and alone, with her sister's hands still warm from pushing her through a window. Then she woke up three years in the past and decided she was done being stupid about Alexander Hagreeves. No more fetching his coffee. No more following him around like a lost puppy. No more pretending her sister, Dorothy wasn't winning every single time. She had one life left and she was going to live it for herself. Alexander had other ideas. He refuses to believe she's truly over him. He won't let go.

After his first love died, Oscar hated me for ten years. I tried everything to soften him. Nothing worked. "If you really want to please me, go die." The words cut deep. But when the riot came, he threw himself in front of me and was hacked down where he stood. He stared at me as he bled out. "If only… my fated mate hadn't been you." At his funeral, his parents wept. "We should have let him be with Catherine. We forced him to marry her, all because of that damn prophecy." Windvale Pack lived by prophecy. Years ago, the Seer had foretold that if Oscar didn't take his fated mate as his bond-mate, disaster would fall on the pack. I was that fated mate. But now, everyone wished I never had been. Even me. I was driven from the funeral, hollow. Then the Moon Goddess descended. She offered me a chance—ten years back—on two conditions. I would not become Oscar's mate. I would prevent Catherine's death. I said yes without thinking.

After suffering from a miscarriage, I've gotten rid of all the habits that my military husband, Nathan Linwood, despises. No longer do I ask him about his whereabouts. He can spend the night elsewhere for all I care. When I get hurt in a rescue mission, the doctor tells me to inform my family about my condition. I merely shake my head and say, "I don't have any family." But Nathan still arrives at the scene half an hour later. The tall and broad-shouldered man looks at me, his voice extremely cold. "Why didn't you seek me out when you got hurt?" I lower my gaze. "It's just a minor injury. There's no need to trouble you at all, Commander Linwood." For some reason, my nonchalant tone annoys Nathan. He's about to open his mouth when a conversation between the guards floats into our ears. "Commander Linwood sure is concerned about Ms. Schuman. When she twisted her ankle during a performance, Commander Linwood had a helicopter rerouted to the venue immediately. He even carried her into and out of the helicopter, refusing to let her feet touch the ground at all." Nathan's expression shifts into one of nervousness immediately. He glances at me from the corner of his eye, seemingly waiting for me to demand answers from him or kick up a fuss like usual. But my eyelashes barely flutter at the conversation. All I do is close my eyes and rest. Ten days later, I won't have anything to do with everything that's going on here.

“I won't let time hinder our love, wait for me, I'm coming to get you.” Two different person trying to straighten their lives, happen to switch paths they are taking. Will this be a chaos? Or will they be able to find their lost stars? PART 1 & 2 will be combined in one book, so you wouldn't be needing to search it again. Enjoy reading!

A celebrity named Jayden, gets lost in another country he visited. Jayden was robbed and beaten to the point of losing everything. A woman named helps and cares for him until he recovers, but problems occur because his presence causes other people's suspicions. Jayden tries to return to his original place, however, he falls in love with the woman who helped him.

After Ryan Spencer cheated on me again with his secretary, I completely lost it. When my mind started to spiral, I grabbed the fruit knife off the table. I just wanted it to end. “Why are you hurting yourself again? He doesn’t love you anymore?” I looked up. The sixteen-year-old Ryan was walking toward me, heartbreak written all over his face. His voice was gentle. “Tell me who he is. I’ll make him pay.” I stared into the bright, earnest eyes of the boy standing in front of me. I didn’t say a word. I simply lifted my hand and pointed at his face. Later, Ryan was the one who had me admitted to a psychiatric hospital. When the sedative began to wear off, the teenage boy appeared again, sitting by my bed. He stared at the man outside who looked just like him. The light in his eyes faded little by little. Then he spoke, his voice strained. “I don’t care who he is. I’ll kill him.” The sixteen-year-old Ryan never lied to me. When he said something, he meant it.