Sweet Wife in My Arms - Chapter 1169 - you played me

The plague of insects descended overnight. As an ordinary person without invincible powers and extraordinary exercises, facing blood and death, what should we do at the critical moment of life and death?

(I am a reasonable party, but the novel needs appropriate YY, please do not excessively investigate the rationality of the background in a razor-sharp way.)

- Description from novelbuddy

Living together with my ex-husband?

Sarah never thought she would one day meet Michael, her ex-husband, again in the operating room with his body full of wounds and needing treatment from her.

They were already divorced for three years, and Sarah didn’t have a good memory of the man. If she could… she would have let him die. However, she was a doctor, and a doctor's job was to save patients.

Sarah immediately regretted her decision to save the man because it turned out that Michael had amnesia and remembered that they just got married!

To make matters worse, she stupidly accepted her ex-in-law's request to pretend to remain Michael's wife while taking care of him. Why did she do that?

However… during the time she spent with her ex-husband, Michael's attitude was very different from what Sarah had last remembered. He was very gentle… and loving. It made the feelings she thought were gone, come up to the surface.

Would Sarah be able to deal with her feelings? What would happen when Michael's memory suddenly returned? Would his attitude stay the same?

=============

EXCERPT:

“Wifey,” Michael called, looking at Sarah who was lying beside him.

“Hm,” Sarah answered curtly, not looking at Michael.

“I think I'm healthy.”

Sarah's body stiffened when she heard that. Was Michael healthy? Did that mean he had remembered everything? Would he scold her for tricking him?

“Wifey? Why are you silent? I think I'm healthy and I can do it,” Michael said quietly.

“What do you mean?” Sarah finally looked at Michael with raised eyebrows. “Do what?”

“Making babies.”

“Villains aren’t born, they’re made...blah...blah...”Cute quote. Stick it on your Tumblr header next to your anime pfp.You boys love your villain stories, don’t you?You want carnage. Chaos. Control. You want a dark throne, a cold smirk, and a woman kneeling at your feet begging for mercy.But you?You don’t want to lift a damn finger.You’ll cheer for the villain as he kills a god, but cry when he gets betrayed.You call it “plot armor” when the hero survives—but call it “art” when the villain does the impossible.You’re not fans of villains.You’re fetishists.You want the violence, but not the silence after it.You want domination, but not the burden of being hated.You want power, but only if the story forgives you for it.You don’t read these stories to understand evil.You read them because you think you're too good to win the normal way.“Villains don’t play fair.”Exactly. That’s why you love them.Because you wouldn’t last a day in a world where strength mattered and excuses didn’t.You don’t want a villain’s life.You want his results.You want to watch him burn the world for a woman.But you’d cry if a girl left you on read.So tell me—What exactly are you rooting for?At least unlike you, I support heroes—the ones with boobs.You know the type.Tits squeezed into latex, thighs tight in spandex, preaching virtue with cum-drunk eyes the moment they fall into my arms but always end up screaming my name instead.She flies above cities, saving lives like it’s her job.But at night? She crashes into my arms, trembling, moaning, clawing at my back like I’m the only real thing she’s ever touched.Her cape drops before her guard does.But I don't need to tear it off.She hands it over herself—bit by bit, kiss by kiss, lie by beautiful lie.You ever felt a heroine's breath hitch in your ear as she begs you to stop pretending you're the bad guy?Ever watched the symbol of hope ride you like you're the last man left after the world ended?That's not conquest.That’s devotion, baby.Unfiltered. Undeniable.And the irony?They fall the hardest.Because no villain ever tried to understand them. No hero ever dared to see past the shine and into the ache beneath.But I do.I whisper into the cracks of their perfection.I plant kisses where they hide their pain.I fuck them where they forget to wear their strength.And when they break—when their moans turn to prayers, when their strength melts into submission—That’s when I rise.I’m not just some brooding misfit out for revenge, or a misunderstood loner sitting around hoping for a shot at redemption.I’m not a villain.I’m the SUPERVILLAIN—the kind your heroines moan for when the cameras are off and the capes are crumpled on my floor.

Meloni is just a musician. A normal, charming girl whom everyone loves and admires. But she has a secret; she can manipulate sound.For years, she managed to live with that secret, until everything came crashing down when her resonance was picked up by local organizations.In the midst of all the chaos, whether she should live as an awakened conduit or just a normal person, she ends up rescuing a small black bird.But that bird, is someone the whole world is afraid of.