How Did The Edgar Haircut Meme Go Viral Worldwide?

In her five years of marriage, Elsie loved her husband, Oswald, with all her heart. Even when their life wasn't happy. But now the man she loves so much is looking at her with a hateful look, slandering her without proof. "Tess is awake, she told me everything! You fu*king murderer!" Tess, Oswald's beloved woman, and if she hadn't had the accident, it would have been Tess, not her, who would have become Oswald's wife. And now Tess was awake. Her dream had awakened instead. She didn't want to have to explain. She didn't want to have to go through countless detentions and begging... Elsie looked at Oswald, who was still indifferent, and said, "Let's get a divorce..." Oswald doesn't believe that the greedy Elsie can give up her life as a rich madam, and he assumes that she will come back and beg him for money. Until Elsie's true identity is revealed and everyone is stunned...

My best friend loved playing 'jokes.' On my birthday, she projected my worst photos in front of everyone, saying she just wanted to 'liven up the mood.' When I was on my period, she deliberately gave me a defective pad. Even when she saw the stain on my clothes, she said nothing–claiming she was helping me 'get more attention.' After I started dating, she edited my photos into suggestive images and spread them across social media groups, pricing them like a product. When I finally snapped and confronted her, she just laughed. "I'm just helping you test your boyfriend," she said. "If he doubts you, then he doesn't really love you. How can you blame me?" Later, a man used the information from those posts to track me down and harm me. I did not survive what followed. However, when I opened my eyes again, I was back to the day she first shared those images.

My boy friend Caleb Ford's childhood sweetheart, Julia Leclair, is losing her hair from chemotherapy. So, he orders me to cut mine off and make her a wig. "Julia's allergic to synthetic wigs. You've been growing your hair for ten years—it's perfect." I refuse, but his friends tie me down. Someone shaves my head to the scalp, buzzing through my thick, glossy hair until nothing's left but a butchered mess. Julia sits in her wheelchair and laughs, saying I look like a toad. Caleb smiles and nods in agreement. He adds with a chuckle, "It's just some hair. Was that really necessary?" But back when I was bullied for having uneven, choppy short hair for six straight years, it was he who stood in front of me. He had his arms spread wide as he shielded me from harm. Now he's the one wielding the blade. One by one, their little circle chimes in. They tell me not to hold a grudge against someone who's sick. Caleb snaps impatiently, "Stop trying to talk sense into her. She can get lost! Did you see that fit she threw over a few strands of hair? It's not like they won't grow back." I turn around and walk away. I never look back. Later, I hear that Caleb begs for my forgiveness by kneeling his way up 9000 steps until his knees are ruined.

On the day two couples come to the orphanage to adopt, a row of comments suddenly appears before my eyes. "Hurry, Nancy! Make the first move! The couple who look like bumpkins is just pretending to be poor! The ones dressed nicely are actually poor." "Call them Mom and Dad quickly! Do not let Nadia steal them away!" In the next second, Nancy, who is standing beside me, suddenly rushes toward the country bumpkin couple. Nancy says, "I'll gladly go to the countryside with you. I will leave the rich girl life to my sister." Everyone starts cheering in the comments. "This is great! Nancy, our dear female lead, won't suffer anymore!" "Nadia, the evil villainess, will rot and stink for the rest of her life. Nancy will crush her under her foot. She will never have the chance or the right to meet the male lead!" I am stunned. So Nancy can see the comments too. She is the female lead, while I am the villainess. But what she does not know is that I am reborn. In my previous life, the real wealthy family takes me away. I look at Nancy and smile coldly. "Just wait, dear sister. Your 'good fortune' is yet to come."

A Gen Z employee named Sylvie Mercer has reported me to the Department of Labor by claiming that I've forced all employees to work on the year-end holidays. But the truth is, I've given the entire company a nine-day vacation just to celebrate the year-end holidays. Those who are willing to work overtime shifts will be paid three times their usual salaries and given an additional five-thousand-dollar bonus. Sylvie keeps crying on the internet about how all the employees, including her, are forced to trade their lives for money. Thanks to her, the entire Internet keeps bashing me. So, I decide to follow the public opinion by releasing an announcement. "In order to ensure all employees' health, the company's doors shall be locked during the year-end holidays. Do note that the electric supply will be cut off as well. No one is permitted entry into the company." As soon as the announcement is released, the employees who plan on earning extra money in order to pay off their mortgages all rush toward my office in alarm.

I'm the type who has the urge to overshare my life with him. It can be anything, be it the flowers blooming by the side of the road, the unpleasant coffee I end up having, or the sunset I've seen when I'm on my way home from work. Heck, when I think of Edwin Howell all of a sudden, I can't resist texting him at all. His replies are always short and perfunctory, though I suppose they count as a form of response from him. Hence, over the past six months, I've relied on these cold-sounding yet present replies to give me enough strength to deal with the engagement party, go wedding gown shopping, and choose the wedding venue all by myself. Somehow, I've managed to hang in there till the week before the wedding. But five days before the wedding, I discover an AI program that's installed within Edwin's computer. It can categorize every single sentence that I've sent to Edwin and extract the keywords. Then, it'll draft the most perfunctory responses that will never go wrong. If I miss Edwin, the AI will reply, "Mm-hmm." If I feel aggrieved, the AI will reply, "Got it." When I try to vent my frustrations to Edwin, the AI will reply, "Don't make such a big deal out of it." It turns out that Edwin isn't the one who has been responding to my need to overshare. The thing is, he has been texting another woman nonstop in another private chat. They talk about anything and everything under the sun, from exchanging simple good mornings and good nights to asking, "What are you having for lunch today?" and "Do you wanna go to the beach someday?" Finally, I realize that Edwin isn't the silent type who keeps his love in. If anything, he's the flashy type who will proclaim his love anywhere, anytime. It's just that… his love has never been mine to have. As for me, I've finally made up my mind to stop spending my life waiting for a response that will never come.