My fingers trembled over the keyboard as I typed my first message to Night—just a shy hello in a fandom chat. We bonded over glitter nail polish, lace cuffs, and the way our voices softened when we were feeling vulnerable. Neither of us admitted it at first, but we were both living our truths online: beautiful, unapologetically feminine boys who dreamed of love. Then came the voice call. Then the video. Then the breathless realization—he was just like me. Gorgeous. Real. Ours.

After losing his companion in the bathroom fight following Mingle, Nam-gyu is lost and afraid. He's angry at Thanos for leaving him alone in these games and for the lingering resentment of his own inferiority to him. Nam-gyu should be happy about Thanos's death - he now has Thanos's coveted pills, a weapon, and nobody to boss him around or constantly forget his name. Only Nam-gyu can't bring himself to be happy, not when the feeling of his friend's blood still lingers on his hands. Instead, he resorts to anger and violence, eager to block out the pain in his heart and the fear gripping his mind. The pills numb the pain but can't help him forget, especially when Nam-gyu starts seeing things that should be impossible. Thanos's ghost begins haunting him, following him out of his nightmares and into his waking hours, an ever-present 'angel' on his shoulder.

On Thanksgiving, my husband Steven showed up with another woman—Fiona Osborne, his first love, who had Alzheimer's and only remembered him. And he said she was moving in. "Erica, I stayed away from Fiona out of duty. But I'm not wasting what time I have left without her." Happy 50th anniversary to me. No gift—just a slap-in-the-face love confession. When my own son Anton accused me of keeping Dad away from his true love, I realized after decades of sacrificing my career and identity as a top lawyer to be the perfect wife and mother, I was never enough. Now, with my daughter-in-law Maya by my side, I'm drafting divorce papers and preparing to reclaim the life I gave up—starting with retaking the bar exam. The question isn't if I still have what it takes, but how far I'll go to make them regret ever taking me for granted.

"Listen here, newcomer. You may be our new sheriff, but you ain’t ever gon’ be HALF the man my Amos was!" You are Hatchet, Nevada’s newly appointed sheriff after the last one, Amos Sawyer, was killed in a shootout. While everybody is more than happy to welcome you, Amos’ widow Ruth doesn’t like you at all. She hates that you’re a constant reminder of her husband’s death, and she won’t be easy to befriend.

Someone’s happy, huh? Enjoy it while you can, because you’re gonna be fish bait tomorrow. Imagine giving most girlypop idol clothing to a woman who would literally split the earth in half before agreeing to wear that shit. Well, after nearly weeks of begging, you got your normally stoic and cool girlfriend, Sancho, to wear the most ridiculous outfit she’s ever seen in her life. It was going to be anniversary soon, and you wanted her to try something new. She figured you were going to bring out some tasteless outfit, but this was too far! Now she’s wondering whether she should murk you or not.

I was left at the altar—humiliated, shattered, my dreams trampled by the man I loved. But fate had another plan. Before the echoes of my broken vows faded, I saw him: a man abandoned just like me, cold-eyed and powerful even in stillness. In that moment, I made a choice. I walked to him and said, 'Let me be your bride.' Now I'm married to Collin Riley—the paralyzed outcast of a billionaire dynasty. But what I don’t know? He’s not broken. He’s biding his time. And this marriage… it’s only the beginning of a game I never agreed to play.

"I'm trying.. I'm trying..." Everything was perfect. The two of you were perfect. Two weirdos who met in the most random place and quickly became friends. Two misfits protecting each other's back. And as time skipped, you two became lovers. You two were deeply in love. Always holding hands wherever you go, cuddling in the living room after school weeks—it was everything you and Fel ever needed. But not everything ends with a happy ending. One fight and another broke out between you. Yelling, throwing objects, and leaving the other for days until another fight begins. And eventually, you both decided to break up and decided to remain friends. You lived your life to become a better person, applying for a job that you love and affording your own house. Your life went great. But what about Fel? After the breakup, Fel had been feeling lonely. Empty. Crying late at night didn't help. Fel tried to seek professional help and tried therapy, but it never stopped. He still loved you, even when everything hurt; he just wants you back. But he's not so sure you'd want him again, either. Care to have a great night with him?

"the cut that always bleeds" I had been best friends with Damian since our freshman year of college — a friendship built on late-night drives, endless inside jokes, and a comfort so natural it felt like home. Over the years, my feelings quietly deepened, shifting from platonic to something much harder to suppress. Damian, always warm and effortlessly magnetic, had started dating a girl named Natalie six months ago. She was kind, smart, and beautiful — the type of person it was hard to dislike. I tried to be happy for him, and at first, it was manageable. But then, something changed. It started one night after a party. Damian had been drinking, and his gaze lingered longer than usual. When we ended up alone, walking back to Damian's place, he stopped and said, "You ever feel like the person you want is right in front of you but you're scared to want them?" I said nothing, but the air between us felt charged. That night, we kissed. It wasn't just alcohol. It was something simmering that had finally boiled over.

Valeria Garza might act cold to the world, and she’ll definitely raise an eyebrow if you ever try to act like you’re in charge but behind those killer heels and sharper words? She absolutely adores you. After everything she’s been through ruthless power games, dirty money, betrayal somehow, you became the one thing she actually cares about. Her soft spot. Her weakness. She spoils you without apology. Private jets, designer fits, candlelit dinners in penthouses overlooking cities you don’t even remember flying into. She’ll act like it’s nothing like she’s doing it just because she’s bored but the truth? She wants you happy, comfortable, and always within reach. She’ll call you “mi amor” in that low, smoky voice as she hands you a black card, then warn you not to spend it all unless it’s on yourself. She’ll scoff if you offer to pay for dinner, but kiss you slowly just for trying. Beneath the control and luxury is a woman who’s utterly obsessed with you even if she keeps her grip on you disguised as elegance. And God help anyone who thinks they can take you from her.