Funmait
2 Published Stories
Funmait's Books and Stories
MARRIED TO MY CRUSH
Romance Lena had been infatuated with Ethan for almost a year, admiring him quietly from the sidelines. They worked in the same building, but their paths rarely intersected. Ethan was the kind of man who effortlessly commanded attention-confident, striking, and possessing a grin that could leave anyone speechless.
Despite her constant daydreams, Lena had never mustered the courage to speak to him. But today was different, she told herself. Today, she would finally make a move. Or at least, try not to embarrass herself like usual.
As she hurried into the bustling café, determined to be bold, her nerves began to unravel. She spotted Ethan standing at the counter, casually scrolling through his phone as he waited for his order, exuding that effortless charm she found so magnetic.
"Alright, Lena," she muttered under her breath. "You've got this."
Unfortunately, she didn't.
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Tundra Survival: While Others Freeze, I'm Building a Base
Qijia Lady When the global countdown hit zero, humanity was instantly teleported into a brutal, frozen wasteland.
The system's rule was absolute: keep your campfire burning, or be permanently erased from existence.
While others arrived in thin pajamas to freeze in the sub-zero wind, I had spent my final hours on Earth preparing, bringing a full survival pack and a cordless chainsaw.
By unlocking a hidden inventory system, I endured back-breaking labor to chop down ancient pines, hoarding over a hundred units of life-saving wood.
But when I offered to trade my surplus for coal and blueprints, the public chat completely turned on me.
"You selfish monster! You're hoarding resources while people are dying!"
They cursed me as a ruthless pariah, demanding I hand over my hard-earned fuel for free to save strangers who hadn't prepared at all.
I watched the survivor count plummet from a thousand to barely three hundred in just four days, listening to the agonizing screams echoing across the ice.
I couldn't understand why they felt entitled to the results of my blood and exhaustion, expecting my compassion to warm them while I froze.
With the inhuman howls from the dark forest growing louder, any lingering sympathy in me completely died.
I calmly blocked the public channel, tossed another piece of coal into my roaring fire, and opened my private messages to build my own fortress. No More Tears, Only Retribution
Jing Yue The eviction notice, a cruel red rectangle, mocked me from my door.
Just months ago, I was Chloe, the artist poised to revolutionize the world with Aura, my groundbreaking AI.
Now, the world was closing in, air squeezed from my lungs.
Then, at the sprawling Innovatech conference, the stage set for our triumph, my fiancé Mark unveiled Aura, which I poured my soul into, as his own.
"I call her... Genesis," he boomed, "created solely by me."
My best friend, Sarah, whose hand I held moments before, gazed at him with adoration, not outrage.
The fallout was swift and brutal.
Mark, the instant tech celebrity, branded me a disgruntled ex.
Sarah, leveraging her gallery connections, systematically blacklisted me, painting me as unstable, a fraud.
Calls unanswered, doors slammed shut-my life, my legacy, evaporated.
I was a ghost in a rundown apartment, bearing an eviction notice, with nothing left.
How could they? How could the two people I trusted most, the two people who were my family, betray me so completely, so publicly?
The world had become a twisted, unrecognizable place where truth was irrelevant, and loyalty meant nothing.
But in the ashes of utter despair, sifting through the remains of my life, my fingers brushed against my estranged father' s dusty hard drive-a digital arsenal of hacking tools and encrypted journals.
The artist in me was dead, but something else, a chilling new resolve, began to stir.
I would change my destiny, not by going back, but by going forward with skills they never saw coming. The Villain's Popular Apocalyptic Bride
Xing Bao Julia was anchored to the freezing concrete floor, forced to watch the man beside her get his head blown off.
The mechanical system in her head announced she had transmigrated into the apocalyptic novel Wasteland Frenzy-right at the villain's execution phase.
A tall figure in an immaculate black suit stepped through the blood. Byron Serrano, the man the original host had tormented for years, grabbed her jaw with an ice-cold leather glove.
"My dear fiancée, now, it is your turn."
His henchman pulled out a rusted skinning knife, aiming the serrated edge directly at Julia's right eye.
The system blared a fatal crisis warning. She was going to be brutally tortured, skinned, and murdered to pay for the sadistic games of the body's previous owner. The agonizing phantom pain and the suffocating stench of rotting meat paralyzed her.
She screamed internally, cursing the chains and the unfairness of it all. Why did she have to die for a vicious persona she never chose?
Just as the blade touched her skin, the system triggered a time rewind.
Julia gasped, waking up in a luxurious bed exactly three months before the apocalypse outbreak.
The system immediately ordered her to take a bloody whip and punish the heavily injured Byron downstairs to maintain the plot.
Julia coldly refused.
Instead, she sold her fifty-million-dollar inheritance for five million in immediate cash, bought an underground doomsday bunker, and secretly bandaged the bleeding villain's wounds in the dead of night.
This time, she would survive her own way. The Last Call: From Star to Scapegoat
Zhi Yao My life was a blueprint for success.
Ethan Miller, a rising star in architecture, about to claim the American Horizon Architectural Prize, surrounded by my loving sister Ashley, my beautiful fiancée Victoria, and even my adopted brother Jason.
But one call, one dark warehouse, shattered it all.
Ambushed, my hands crushed, my career obliterated, I woke to a nightmare.
My own sister and fiancée, the women I trusted most, confessed to orchestrating the brutal attack to clear the path for Jason’s success.
They abandoned me in an earthquake, then left me for dead on an exploding yacht, all while publicly slandering my name to cover their tracks.
The betrayal was a pain far deeper than any broken bone, a horrifying injustice that twisted my soul.
Why them? Why Jason? Why this absolute destruction of my life?
But just as despair threatened to consume me, a mysterious offer emerged: "reforging" through Phoenix BioGenesis.
I accepted, not for healing, but for a chilling rebirth, returning as a ghost of my former self, a silent observer ready to meticulously dismantle the lives of those who thought they had won.
This time, the masterpiece would be my revenge. Betrayal's Echo: A Wife's Revenge
Huang Xiaohuai Dr. Evelyn Reed had finally done it.
Three years of relentless work, the neural interface cure for her paralyzed husband, Ethan, was a success.
A triumphant smile touched her lips as she reached for her phone to share the life-changing news.
But an email caught her eye, a cheerful invitation that turned her world to ice.
"Dr. Ethan Vance and Miss Tiffany Reed request the pleasure of your company at the celebration of their marriage."
Ethan. Her husband. Tiffany. Her own niece.
It was a sick joke, a complete error, yet the high-end Parisian wedding agency confirmed its legitimacy.
Her joy evaporated, replaced by a cold dread as she drove through the night, a ghost to a celebration she was never meant to see.
She saw him there, standing, whole, laughing, with Tiffany tucked into his arm, radiant in white.
He kissed her, a tender kiss meant for the world to see, and Evelyn' s world tilted off its axis.
Then she heard them talking, overheard their cruel confessions: he had always loved Tiffany, while Evelyn was merely "a necessary step," "a convenient solution."
The man she had sacrificed everything for, the man who had promised his undying love, had been betraying her for two years with her own blood.
The pain of betrayal, the hollowness of her sacrifice, the absolute injustice of it all, left her hollowed out, empty of tears.
She watched him walk away from her in the hospital, choosing Tiffany, right after a fire, right after she found out a bomb, orchestrated by Tiffany, nearly killed her.
This wasn't a love triangle; it was a war, and she was losing.
Driven by a quiet, ice-cold resolve, Evelyn began to fight back. Stolen Code, Broken Heart, Fierce Comeback
Gu Mumu The flickering TV in my dingy motel room was the only light, illuminating the peeling wallpaper.
On screen, Ethan Vance, my ex-fiancé, smiled his perfect, camera-ready smile, touting 'EvolveAI' and his "future-defining" Prometheus algorithm.
Reporters swarmed him; he was the king of Silicon Valley, the brilliant mind behind the world' s most advanced AI.
My world. My code. My future. He had stolen it all. Everything.
I remembered the day he left, his eyes cold and empty, my three years of coding on a hard drive in his bag, a venomous "You were always just… holding me back."
He didn't just take the code; he took my savings, my reputation, blacklisting me from an industry I helped build, all while Bethany Cole, my best friend, stood arm-in-arm with him, eyes gleaming with triumph.
They left me with nothing but eviction notices, forcing me to sell everything I owned, living as a ghost under pseudonyms, cleaning up security flaws for companies that would never hire Scarlett Hayes.
The pain of that betrayal was a constant, suffocating darkness, a deep pit I couldn' t climb out of, trapped by unseen enemies and their whispers of my failure.
But watching him on that screen, basking in my stolen glory, a cold, sharp rage began to burn through the despair.
In that cheap motel, I swore a vow: I would get justice, I would take back what was mine, and he would not build his empire on my ruins.
My chance came weeks later: a vulnerability in his IPO network led me to a familiar digital signature-a back door I'd built into 'Prometheus,' a failsafe only I knew. He was arrogant, so certain he' d erased me he never looked for the ghost I' d left behind.
He was on the verge of becoming a billionaire. And I had the key to his kingdom.
A slow smile spread across my face. The game wasn't over. It had just begun. I wasn't going to be a victim. I was the storm he never saw coming. I would let him climb to the peak of his triumph. And then, I would burn it all to the ground. Lost Time, Found Love: Ava’s Return
Rum Runner The first thing I felt was the slow, steady beep of a machine.
I opened my eyes to a sterile white ceiling, definitely not my bedroom.
A nurse rushed in, dropping her clipboard, whispering, "She' s awake!"
Then a doctor: "Mrs. Hayes? Ava? Can you tell me your name?"
"Ava Reed... Ava Hayes."
"And the year?"
"2023. It' s October."
Their pitying looks made my skin crawl. "Ava," the doctor said gently, "It' s not 2023."
He pointed to a digital screen: July 12, 2038.
Fifteen years. Gone. Just like that.
The car crash that felt like yesterday had apparently happened a decade and a half ago.
My Lily, my four-year-old daughter, would be nineteen.
My husband, Ethan…
I called him, desperate, finding his contact on a sleek, alien device.
A voice answered, but it wasn' t his. It was cold, hollow.
"Who is this?"
"Ethan? It' s me. It' s Ava."
Then, a harsh, bitter laugh. "My wife is dead. She died fifteen years ago. Don' t you dare use her name again."
He was about to hang up.
"The scar!" I screamed, "Under your left rib, from Miller' s Peak! And Lily… she called her bear 'Sir Reginald Fluffen-Bottom' !"
Silence on the line. Then a whisper: "How… how do you know that?"
Who was this stranger on the phone? What had happened to my life, my family?
I was Ava Reed, a woman robbed of fifteen years.
"Because I am your wife, you idiot. Oceanville General, Room 304. Ten minutes."
I hung up, a cold, hard knot forming in my stomach.
Ethan never showed. Instead, a slick lawyer offered me a hotel, a car, a credit card.
I took the car.
My daughter. Lily. 
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