Sweetness Novels

Tonight was supposed to be special. Our fifth anniversary. I' d booked our favorite restaurant, bought a new shirt Chloe loved. Then, scrolling through social media, a photo from her company' s group chat caught my eye. Chloe, laughing, her hand resting on the arm of her intern, Liam. The caption called it "burning the midnight oil." I called it a lie. I typed a reply, directly into the chat: "Looks like fun. Chloe, I\'m still waiting for our anniversary dinner. The reservation was for seven." My phone rang instantly. It was Chloe, her voice a furious hiss. "What the hell do you think you\'re doing? Are you trying to embarrass me?" "Embarrass you?" I retorted, her dismissive tone burning me. "I' m sitting here alone on our anniversary. You told me you were stuck in a meeting." She called me needy, childish, then hung up. All my sacrifices, my life savings poured into her startup, the sleepless nights coding her company' s foundation – for this? To be a ghost in her shiny, successful life? The truth was laid bare: I was just an afterthought. I looked at our wedding photo, so full of hope, then slowly, deliberately, turned it face down. Then I blocked her. The next morning, her company's lead engineer called, panicking. "It's the Genesis build. It's a complete disaster. Liam broke it." Chloe had brushed off my warnings about Liam's sloppy code. She called him a rockstar. Now, she needed me to fix her golden boy' s mess. She sent her assistant to drag me to the office. Then Chloe herself called from the assistant's phone. "Ethan Miller, you get down here right now!" She tried to smooth-talk me, sweet-talking about "us." And then I heard it. A soft, wet sound, a kiss. And Liam' s voice. "Is he giving you trouble, boss? Let me talk to him." Chloe' s hushed, affectionate whisper: "It's fine, sweetie. I've got this." My world stopped. "Sweetie?" I repeated, the word dripping with mock sweetness. "Is that what you call your interns now, Chloe?" The betrayal, concrete and undeniable, sliced through me. All that anger, all that pain, crystallized into one chilling realization: "You don't need me. You need my work. There's a difference." "Consider your contract terminated," she threatened. "Consider it terminated," I replied, and hung up. I finally felt nothing. Just a vast, empty space where five years of my life used to be. I was done.

I am Clara Nkem Felix from Rivers State, Nigeria and  this is my unending history about life itself. The mistrust and trust,the love and betrayal,the light and darkness, the friends and foes,the evil and good,the happiness and sadness,the overwhelmness of life,the bitterness and sweetness of mankind,the greed,envy,support and  wickedness of life.The ranting,the complain and all manner of people.The affliction,religion,tribes, and association. Clara tends to show her children some moral principles of life by explaining her life encounter as a youth.

My engagement to Ethan Hayes was a decade-long silent contract, a symbol of a love I held with quiet desperation, though his light never truly shone on me. Then Chloe Davis appeared, all sweetness and light, and Ethan, who' d been indifferent to me, fell completely for her. In my first life, that look drove me mad, leading me to uncover Chloe' s dark secret: she was the daughter of the man who ruined Ethan' s family, driving his parents to suicide. My attempt to save him backfired catastrophically. During a heated confrontation, Chloe pushed Ethan's uncle, David Hayes, who died instantly. Ethan walked in, seeing only me standing over the body with a terrified Chloe pointing a trembling finger. He refused to listen, convinced I was a jealous fiancée eliminating a rival. I was wrongly imprisoned for his uncle' s death, dying alone and forgotten, while Ethan and Chloe' s twisted tragedy bound them together in a life I couldn't share. All my love, my loyalty, my sacrifices, meant nothing. But then, I opened my eyes. I was back in the university library, a full year before the tragedy unfolded. My past life was a finished story, but this was my second chance. I swore a cold, hard resolve: I would not interfere. I would not save him. I would watch their great love story play out to its inevitable, disastrous end. My first act? Terminating our engagement.