What Happens In The Ending Of My Friend Rabbit: A Picture Book?

I've been in a secret relationship with Declan Gibson for five years, and I've tried to seduce him more times than I can count. Yet, when I stand in front of him in my birthday suit and a pair of bunny ears, all he does is worry that I'll catch a cold and wrap me in a blanket. I used to think his restraint came from being the mafia don, that he was saving our first time for our wedding night. However, one month before the ceremony, he secretly plans the city's grandest fireworks show to celebrate his childhood sweetheart's birthday. They hug and share a slice of cake in public. That night, they check into a hotel. … The next morning, I watch them leave together. That's when I realize Declan is not restrained. He just doesn't love me, so I walk out of the hotel. I call my parents. "Dad, I've broken up with Declan. I'll marry into the Sullivan family as planned." My father is stunned. "I thought you were madly in love with Declan. Why did you break up? I heard Bryson can't have children. You've always loved kids. What will you do once you marry him?" "It's fine," I reply, disheartened. "We can always adopt."

On my birthday, my husband, Tristan, gifted me a white rabbit. He claimed it was a familiar that would bring me boundless luck. I took great care of it, but the rabbit kept sinking its incisors into me. It went from sipping a few drops of blood to ripping open my neck, draining me day by day until I was deathly pale. When I tried to get rid of it, Tristan called me petty. "Sera is an anniversary gift. You can't even tolerate a little rabbit?" Even my daughter went on a hunger strike. "If you get rid of Sera, I'll hate you forever!" Ultimately, I was entirely drained of my life force, dying a gruesome death on our wedding anniversary. After death, my spirit watched the rabbit shed its furry pelt and transform into a breathtakingly beautiful woman. It was Tristan's former lover, Seraphina. Even my daughter threw herself at her, gleefully calling her "Mom." That was when the truth finally hit me. Tristan had always been after my golden Elven blood. He needed it to break the curse on Seraphina and restore her humanity. Even my daughter's body had long been possessed by their twisted love child through dark magic. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day Tristan gifted me the rabbit. I smiled at him. "I'll take excellent care of her." But the moment he turned his back, I threw the beast straight into a witch's boiling cauldron.

Natalie used to hate stuffed animals. Now she's head-over-heels for a cotton doll. She called it "honey" and told our daughter, Yara, it was her real dad. Cool. Guess that made me the family ghost. At Yara's parent-teacher conference, I finally snapped and handed Natalie the divorce papers. Cue the gasps. Suddenly, I'm the villain. She slapped me—full drama mode. "It's just a doll! Why are you being so extra?" Yara hugged it like it was about to save the world, giving me the death stare. I shrugged, smirking. "You're the one who said it's your dream husband and Yara's one and only dad. So, like... why am I still here?"

History repeats itself in many ways. Maybe for the family, the love, or even for yourself. Would you be willing to go back to the past to be able to change the history? Sacrifice yourself and change the fate of those who are in the present and in the future. Like Lia, living in a modern world, who is very contented in her life despite being adopted and having a risky relationship in the meantime that can end her in many ways. And that is why, some things, some pasts are better kept hidden and not known. Would she go back to where history started and change it for the better? Then Lia stays in the past, stuck on her own fate. Will it be the further destruction, or the salvation of her history?

On the day of our wedding, my fiance Thomas Warsh was killed in a car accident on the way there. His adopted sister rushed toward me, clutching his ashes, accusing me of being a jinx who brought him misfortune. I was drowning in grief when a line of floating comments suddenly appeared before my eyes. [You must remain a widow for three years for your deceased husband. After three years, he will be reincarnated and return to love you again!] [Don’t ever remarry. Otherwise, the male lead will never rest in peace, and you will suffer for the rest of your life!] That was when I learned that my fiancé and I were the hero and heroine of a novel. Only by following the spoilers in the comments and completing the storyline could I reunite with him. I did not remarry. Guided by the comments, I remained a widow for three years, and then another three. However, it was not until I suddenly died from a severe illness that I discovered the truth–the comments had all been written by Thomas. He had faked his death, changed his appearance, married his adopted sister, and fed me endless empty promises so I would continue to slave away for the Warsh family. When I opened my eyes again, I had returned to the day before the wedding.

At the dinner celebrating our fifth wedding anniversary, I held the pregnancy test report in my pocket, planning to surprise my CEO husband. However, the moment the doors opened, I froze. A stunning woman stood there with her arm intimately linked through my husband's. She clung to Charles Lawrence with the ease and confidence of someone who clearly belonged at his side, carrying herself like the lady of the house. Neither Charles nor the guests found it strange. If anything, they seemed entertained. Someone even joked, "Mr. Lawrence and Ms. Cooper aren't just ideal partners at work. Their chemistry is something to admire as well. I've personally reserved the presidential suite at Jubilee City's finest resort for Mr. Lawrence tonight. You can be sure no one will disturb you." Fiona blushed and slipped shyly into Charles's arms. He lowered his head and kissed her hard. They fit together so naturally, so intimately, that the sight was unbearably glaring. My thoughts flashed back to the night before, when Charles had pressed me into the bed. In that moment, I had caught sight of a strange message sent by someone named Fiona: [Everyone in the company thinks we've slept together.] Charles had explained that Fiona was only his assistant, a forty-year-old woman, and that the message was nothing more than a punishment from a lost game, a foolish dare. That explanation had dissolved my suspicion and anger. Then, I finally saw the truth. I was the one who had lost everything. Inside my pocket, the pregnancy report was crushed into a tight ball. I forced the tears back, stepped away, and opened the invitation from the National Aerospace Research Institute on my phone. Without hesitation, I tapped Accept. Three days later, I would vanish completely from Charles's world.