“Happy birthday to me, happy birthday to me, happy birthday dear asshole. Sad birthday to you!” Kamsi sang with so much passion that the mirror on her wall almost broke. He reached out to the teddy bear on her left and snapped its head off, spilling the Polyester Fiberfill all over the room. “Ah! There’s not much blood! I need blood! How can I kill Nathan if I can’t stand seeing blood?!” She roared to herself. Then, she looked over to the table on the corner of the room. “Yes! This is it!” She muttered to herself. She smiled evilly as the toad watched her in fear, as if knowing what the 19 years old girl was about to do to her. Its eyes suddenly bulged out. Perhaps it was trying to appear cute. Its Kawaii face was pronounced as its pleading, wide round eyes bulged out, almost popping out of its head. “Ah, poor thing. It’s sad to see you die. But I have kept you in that jar for too long. I am devising a plan to kill my brother, Nathan for all he did to me. You should be gratef

“Breaking News! The city of London is reeling in shock and dismay as it faces one of the most heartbreaking losses in recent memory. Following the unprecedented open apology issued by Nathan Reed to Donald Arthur for disrupting his daughter’s wedding—a move that had already left many questioning his intentions—tragedy has struck in the most unimaginable way. Reports confirm that the private chopper carrying Nathan Reed, one of London’s most influential businessmen, exploded mid-air shortly after takeoff earlier today. Alongside Reed, the pilot and an unidentified passenger were also aboard the aircraft. Authorities have stated that there are no survivors. This catastrophic event comes on the heels of a series of baffling actions by Reed. Just weeks ago, he paid an eye-popping 100 million euros as compensation to Arthur, freed members of the Davenport family who were previously arrested, and was last seen visiting Donald Arthur’s estate in a surprising public gesture of reconciliati

“Please, Emma! Please, I… I have to leave here! You can not keep me here like an animal. It’s been 3 weeks! Why are you doing this to me? As revenge? You know that you are the one in the wrong. You stole my fiance’s heart from me and…” “Sh… shhh!” Emma shushed her slowly, passing her meal through the lock box. Vanessa was getting wildly slim. She looked like a disaster in the body of a dejected camel craving for a drop of water from the sky, its neck stretched out and elongated. The once pretty, sleek Vanessa was now a shadow of her former self when she was still in abject poverty and suffering. “Come on now, Vanessa. You are asking the wrong questions and making the wrong lamentations. Don’t you wonder where your fiance has been all these weeks? Why he has not found you or called out an intense search. Guess what? He thinks you just went on a trip and he doesn’t fucking care about you, Vanessa!” Emma roared slyly. Vanessa clenched her fists together as she tried to control her

He walked into the restaurant, blending seamlessly into the mundane hum of everyday life. His attire was plain—a worn jacket, a modest button-down shirt, and slacks that spoke of a man who had neither wealth nor prestige. It was all part of the act. He moved with an unassuming grace, each step measured, each movement calculated to ensure no one looked twice. Sliding into a seat near the window, he scanned the room. The clink of cutlery, the murmur of quiet conversations, and the occasional burst of laughter filled the air. It was a world that seemed to forget its troubles, even if just for a while. A young waiter approached, her notepad in hand. “Your order, sir?” she asked flatly, her tone betraying a routine she had repeated countless times that day and other days and probably all her life as a teenager. He looked up at her, a soft smile on his face, his eyes crinkling just enough to seem harmless. “Water,” he said simply. Her pen paused midair, and her eyes narrowed slightly.

“Who the fuck are you?” cried the dude in pain as he managed to pick himself up and ran away. Emily, seeing that their attack and defense system was weak, began to back off. “Fuck you! You are fighting for this ugly, bitch. This is not new to her, stupid. Her boyfriend does worse every day. Good luck saving her from herself and from her boyfriend. You are a fool!” Emily then ran along with the rest of them. Those words rang in Mr. Frost’s ear over and over again, ‘Her boyfriend does worse everyday!’ That explained so much. So much. Her innocent smile, the bag beneath her eye, the hesitation in her voice, and the way she deflected kindness—it all made sense now. Mr. Frost clenched his fists, his sharp mind processing every detail with surgical precision. He turned to Clara, who was slumped on the ground, her arms shielding her face as though bracing for more blows. “Clara,” he said softly, his tone stripped of its usual calculation, replaced with genuine concern. “It’s over. Yo