Journey Ends Novels & Stories

Six years after marrying Rhiannon Westley, she takes a lover. He's like a puppy—timid and clingy. He flinches at the slightest raised voice, so Rhiannon never loses her temper in front of him. But when he acts up in front of me, Rhiannon snaps. She's furious, and she gives him a harsh scolding. The next day, he sends me a photo of his neck covered in red marks. "Zane, Ms. Westley is so fierce..."

After years of investment from my company, my boyfriend finally broke into show business. At last, he won an Oscar. True to his promise, he married me. Then, during a backstage interview, he said, "It was transactional. I had to marry her in exchange for the funding." His braindead fans came after me soon afterward. They stalked me and, one day, poured sulfuric acid over my face. The attack left me disfigured. He sent me to the hospital, but that was just another part of his scheme. Before long, the world believed I had died from complications. When I returned to life, I decided to invest in someone else. After all, he was the only person who had mourned my death and given me a proper burial.

I was Johan's secretary for seven years. After another night together, he tossed me a check. "I'm bored with you." I gave him a teasing smile. "I've got less than three months left. Couldn't you wait a little longer?" He frowned. "Yara Yelton, you should know your place." My smile froze. He had no idea. I never joked about that. Later, he panicked. By then, it was too late.

My husband, Ivan Sanders, found out that his first love, Brenda Waters, had gotten divorced. That very night, I asked for a divorce. Ivan smiled. "Are you sure? I'll call my secretary and have him cancel the custom dress from Butterfly." I blinked. Um... on second thought, maybe I should think it over a little longer.

Three days after I died, my fiancé got a call to ID the body. He just scoffed. "She's dead, so what? Call me when she's in the ground." The cops, out of options, hit up my backup contact—my childhood friend. He actually laughed. "She's really gone? Not my problem. Burn her or whatever." Then my body hit the internet— And suddenly, both of them looked like ghosts.

Two days before New Year's, my boyfriend, Jeffrey Graham, planned to spend the holiday at the beach with his assistant. I did not argue or complain. Instead, I thoughtfully packed his bags for him. However, he mocked me, saying that I had finally learned to be considerate now that I was pregnant. After he left, I wasted no time and went to get an abortion. Why? In my previous life, I tried to use our child to stop him, but his assistant ended up being brutally murdered at the beach. Jeffrey appeared calm on the surface after that incident, but just when I was about to give birth, he cruelly cut open my abdomen and killed my baby. That was when I realized—he had been holding a deep grudge against me all along. This time, I was determined to make him lose everything.

My son had a high fever that would not break, so I called my wife. She said I was using our son to make her jealous. Then she turned around and took her first love's son to the hospital over a scraped finger. I looked at my son's pale face and asked, "Do you want a different mom?" My son nodded. Twice. "Mom doesn't like me, so I don't want to like her anymore." Later, I really did give him a different mom, but my wife refused to accept it.

The whole school knew I was Derek Hardy's doormat—his loyal little puppy, always trailing behind him no matter what. But no matter how much he looked down on me, brushed me off, or treated me like I didn't matter, I never left his side. Until a basketball game, when Derek took a scratch to the face. I frowned, got to my feet, and muttered under my breath, "Took me forever to find a decent replacement. What a waste."

I was a housewife with severe OCD and a serious cleanliness obsession. I accidentally entered what I thought was a wholesome parenting game where I beat the crap out of my rebellious son, smothered my adorable daughter with love, and ripped out the corpse-stitching on my husband to sew him back up. On the day I cleared the game, the three of them tearfully sent me off. Only during the final settlement did I learn the truth: my husband was the ultimate boss of the horror game. My son was an infamous demon who left no players alive, and my daughter had crushed the skulls of a hundred players. Wasn't this supposed to be a parenting game? Turns out, I had walked straight into a horror game.

When my girlfriend, Cherry Jameson, receives her HIV positive test report, she finally realizes what her childhood friend, Neil Sawyer, meant by "life-and-death". In the previous life, after Cherry fainted from her latest anemic episode, Neil insisted on donating his blood to her. I did everything I could to stop the procedure from happening. I told Cherry that Neil had been diagnosed with HIV a long time ago, so she'd get infected if she were to receive his blood. But Cherry refused to believe me. Neil broke down in tears, saying that he never had a girlfriend, to begin with. Then, he went to the rooftop and pretended to jump so that he could prove himself with his death. But he accidentally slipped and fell, resulting in his actual death. In order to avenge Neil, Cherry worked with her classmates to kidnap me. She was the one who personally strangled me to death with her hands. Angrily, she roared at me, "Your slanderous lies killed Neil! I want you to pay with your own life!" When I open my eyes again, I've returned to the day Cherry is supposed to receive a blood transfusion from Neil. As I look at Cherry, who's in the middle of receiving blood from Neil, I just smile faintly. It's just HIV. She'll be fine.