I woke up in the middle of the night and felt someone next to me. In the moonlight, the man dressed lightly appeared in my bed again.
In the middle of the night, I felt someone next to me.
In the faint moonlight, that lightly dressed man was back on my bed again.
1
I was losing my mind.
Ever since my mom made an impromptu visit to a tiny, nameless church to pray for my love life, this mysterious man had started appearing in my bed every night.
But each time, it was like I'd been hit by sleep paralysis – I couldn't move, couldn't speak. All I could do was lie there and watch as he stole my blankets, sprawled across my bed, and then, as if it were nothing, gave me a shove that sent me tumbling off the mattress.
At first, I thought this was some desperate measure from my mom to force me into "moving on" with my love life.
But when I stayed overnight at my friend Elliana Fowler's place and, halfway through the night, turned to find her replaced by that same man, I realized...
It was a dream!
The next day, I was beside myself.
When I explained the situation to Elliana, she clapped a comforting hand on my shoulder and gave me some sage advice,
"If you can't resist it, just go with it!"
I was speechless.
That night, the man showed up again.
I resigned myself to my fate, bracing for the inevitable push that would send me back onto the floor. But instead, he reached out, his arm sweeping around me, pulling me right into his chest.
My face landed firmly against his pecs.
They were so
...solid.
I tried to wriggle free, but then I realized, somehow, I could actually move.
As I cautiously shifted, he held me tighter, his voice coming out in a low,
husky murmur.
"Don't move."
And that's when I woke up.
Elliana's advice started making a lot more sense.
Each night, I went to bed anticipating the strange, recurring encounter.
And then I discovered: whenever I made physical contact with him, I could move again.
It was as if the rules of the dream wanted me to be...a little less than virtuous?
Not that I was doing anything untoward. Mostly, I'd just check out his pecs, explore his abs, maybe investigate the fit of his boxer briefs. That was it, really.
One thing kept bothering me, though.
In the dream, I could never clearly see his face. A thin haze seemed to always hang over it, leaving me with just a sense of strong jawlines and sharp contours.
Unfazed, I tried working my way up from his collarbone one night, only to find a little surprise on his neck: two tiny moles.
2
"Hayley,
have you been seeing someone lately?"
Valerie Holt from the next desk leaned over and asked with a smirk.
I quickly denied it.
"No, no, nothing like that."
She gave me a knowing smile.
"Well, something's up – you're practically glowing these days."
I lowered my head, trying to cover my blush by busying myself with work.
Last night, the man had asked if I wanted to meet him in real life.
I'd almost answered him when my mom's voice, yelling at me to wake up, pulled me back into the waking world. By then, it was nearly nine in the morning.
On my commute to work, my mind swirled with thoughts about what might happen tonight.
A little later, Valerie leaned over again.
"Hey, Hayley, did you hear? Gwyneth quit."
I was taken aback,
"What? Why?"
"Something to do with family stuff,
I think."
Gwyneth Walsh was the department head and the one who kept things together around here.
"So who's taking over?"
I asked.
"I heard they hired someone for the role,"
Valerie said, her eyes gleaming with curiosity.
"An eligible bachelor, no less."
Yeah, right. He was probably middle-aged by now.
I imagined a greasy, overweight man.
But just as I was about to make a snide comment, the office suddenly buzzed with chatter. I looked up to see some senior managers walking in with a tall man.
He stood near me, just at an angle where I couldn't quite make out his face, but the moment he introduced himself, his voice rang a familiar chord in my head.
Valerie grabbed my arm the second he walked away, barely containing her excitement. "Isn't Mr. Willis just gorgeous?" I just sat there, staring at my screen, my mind blank.
Because if I wasn't mistaken, this new department head, Greyson Willis...
had the exact same two tiny moles on his neck.
3
The entire day, I kept sneaking glances through the glass into Greyson's office.
The voice, the build, those moles...
This all had to be some sort of coincidence.
"Hayley, you crushing on Mr. Willis, too?"
Valerie teased, wagging her eyebrows at me.
I quickly shook my head, denying everything while pretending to work.
Inside, though, I was a mess of tangled thoughts, and my productivity took a nosedive.
By the time I wrapped everything up, it was already past nine. Stretching, I noticed the light in the director's office was still on.
Greyson was staying late.
Day one, and he was already working overtime. No wonder he'd moved up so quickly.
That night, it took a while before he showed up in my dream.
He turned over, reaching out to pat my head.
"Sorry for being late. Had to work overtime."
I mean,
he didn't have to apologize to me. I wasn't waiting for him or anything...
But when he mentioned "overtime," my mind instantly flashed back to Greyson Willis.
After some deliberation, I asked hesitantly,
"So... are you by any chance a director at some company?
Last name Willis?"
There was a brief pause, then a low, resonant chuckle from his chest.
"How did
you guess?"
4
At 26, I, Hayley Mitchell, was somehow spending every night in my dreams sharing a bed with a stranger.
And now,
that stranger was my boss.
At work, I tried to avoid Greyson as much as possible. After all, if I could recognize him, it was only logical that he might recognize me too.
Still, being in the same department meant contact was inevitable, especially when he called everyone in for introductory performance reviews.
When my turn came, I spoke in a lowered voice and kept my responses as concise as possible.
Greyson nodded as if nothing was amiss.
Back at my desk, Valerie leaned over.
"Hayley, what's with the voice?"
"Oh, just a bit of a sore throat,"
I replied quickly.
"Catch a cold?"
she asked.
"No,
nothing like that."
Just then, I felt a pair of eyes on me. I looked up to see Greyson's gaze meet mine for a split second
before he casually glanced away,
like it was just a random accident.
Determined to steer clear, I promised myself I'd avoid looking his way from now on unless absolutely necessary.
When it was time to leave, I practically ran to the elevators, slipping into one that was closing just in time. I was about to count my luck when I glanced up – and there he was, standing in the corner with an eyebrow arched, watching me.
I was flustered.
"Uh, Mr. Willis!
Wrapping up for the day?"
"Mm-hmm."
His reply was curt,
with no intention of small talk.
I quickly turned around, facing the elevator doors.
As we stopped at a few floors, more people squeezed in,
pushing me closer and closer to Greyson.
Instead of the usual rom-com moment of "falling into his arms," I managed a less graceful move – I tripped and ended up stepping squarely on Greyson's polished leather shoe.
A quiet grunt escaped above me, and I blurted out,
"I'm so sorry, Mr. Willis, I didn't mean to..."
Before I could finish, someone bumped me from behind again, and I lost my footing,
landing my shoe right back on his.
Apparently,
my shoes had developed a deep affection for his.
After the third bump that sent me stumbling yet again, Greyson placed a firm hand on my shoulder, steadying me in the small space directly in front of him.
Above me, his chuckle rumbled, a sound so familiar it sent a chill down my spine, like his late-night laughter in my dreams.
"Careful there," he said softly.
"My shoes are pretty expensive."
5
As soon as we exited the elevator, I apologized again and even offered to cover any repair costs.
Greyson waved it off. "It's fine. No need."
Just as I turned to leave, he called my name.
My heart skipped a beat, thinking he might recognize me.
But his tone remained professional: "Hayley, your review was a little light.
Please prepare a more detailed version by tomorrow morning."
For some reason, even though he'd chuckled in the elevator, he maintained an almost distant, unfamiliar air around me.
And honestly, that was fine.
We were, after all, just coworkers.
I nodded and agreed to the task.
That night, Greyson was back in my dream,
attempting to reach over and pat my head. I pushed his hand away.
"What's wrong?"
he asked.
"Well, since you're showing up every night,
can we set some ground rules?"
He gave me a puzzled look.
"Ground rules?"
"Yes. Rule one: You're going to start wearing pajamas. Rule two: No climbing into my bed.
Rule three: No touching."
He laughed softly, tapping my hand where it rested against his abs.
"You know, you'd be more convincing if you weren't touching me while you said all that."
Frustrated, I sighed,
"You know I can't move unless I'm holding onto you."
He gave a shrug, smile in place.
"Alright, agreed."
In my dreams, Greyson was nothing if not patient, gentle, even considerate. Unlike those initial nights, he no longer kicked me off the bed.
I wondered, though – was this dream actually shared between the two of us, or was he just a figment of my own imagination?
"What are you thinking about?"
he asked.
I made something up on the spot.
"Just that my mom keeps telling me I'm gaining weight and that I'll never find a husband."
"Don't worry. You're not heavy,"
he replied.
I huffed,
"You don't even know how much I weigh."
There was a pause before he chuckled, low and lazy, his voice like warm honey.
"Well, you've stepped on me twice now,
and I didn't feel a thing."
6
I woke up with a start.
"Hayley, you're going to be late!"
my mom shouted from outside my room.
I checked my phone: almost nine again.
Ever since Greyson started appearing in my dreams, I'd been sleeping so deeply I couldn't hear my alarm.
I grabbed a milk carton and a piece of bread as I dashed out the door.
On my way to work, Greyson's words from last night, "You stepped on me twice, and I didn't feel a thing," replayed in my head.
My pulse quickened. Could he have already recognized me in real life, just as I had with him?
When I got to the office, Greyson hadn't arrived yet. I sat down to revise my performance report, fingers tapping furiously on the keyboard.
Valerie slid over, raising an eyebrow at my focus.
"Working extra hard today?"
I took a bite of bread.
"Mr. Willis asked me to rewrite a more detailed report."
Just then, a tall figure strode past us.
My fingers froze.
"What's up?"
Valerie asked.
The director's office door clicked shut,
and I snapped back to reality. "Nothing,"
I muttered, resuming my typing.
Inside his office, Greyson removed his jacket, settled into his chair, and started up his computer.
All looked normal, like nothing had happened last night.
My fingers slowly tightened around the keyboard.
He hadn't come over or spoken to me.
Just another regular workday.
So that line from my dream – had it really been him? Or was I only imagining the things I wanted to hear?
By 2 p.m., I was holding the revised report in my hands, feeling strangely anxious as I knocked on his door.
Greyson, seated at his desk, motioned me to sit, his expression composed and professional.
I stared, searching for any sign of recognition or warmth.
He scanned my report, asking a few simple questions.
But with the man who appeared in my bed nightly sitting right in front of me, my tongue felt tied, and I could barely form coherent sentences.
Closing the report, he looked at me with a slight frown.
"If you're not feeling up to it today, you can come back tomorrow."
For a moment, my heart sank.
So that gentle, caring Greyson in my dream – was he nothing but a figment of my imagination?
The voice, the physique, even those two tiny moles... all just coincidence.
I'd probably been subconsciously reshaping him into Greyson.
I dropped my head and mumbled, "Sorry," before quickly leaving the office.
The rest of the afternoon, I brooded over his professionalism and that chilly tone.
"Did he make you revise the report again?"
Valerie asked.
I nodded.
"So intense,"
she remarked.
That was our code for "intense" people who were bound for success.
"He's definitely an intense director,"
I agreed.
Right then, Greyson opened his office door and glanced at us, his gaze lingering for just a moment before he continued on.
Valerie and I went silent.
Busted!
My boyfriend went bankrupt and wants to break up with me. I don’t agree. He said, "Well, are you brave enough to get married to me?"
Do you believe in love at first sight? The moment I first met Mingyuan, I had that feeling. I cautiously accommodated him, maintaining his pride with my humility—warm yet hypocritical, like the fake flowers welcoming guests at a restaurant’s entrance. Until one day, I was utterly exhausted and chose to give up. I encountered another person during a time of chaos in my life. "So I showed up." To be honest, he awakened my desires. He saw through my games with words, understanding that I was greedy, selfish, and prone to avoidance, yet he still held my hand tightly, as he always did. I received a constant stream of messages from Mingyuan, but they no longer mattered to me. I should be someone with a strong capacity to endure and process my emotions. During the time I was Mingyuan's girlfriend, I tried my best to dissolve negative feelings within myself—without confiding or disturbing anyone. I once tried to act cute, hoping he would comfort me, thinking that just a few kind words would suffice. But he looked at me with great difficulty, saying, "I really don’t know how to comfort you. The ways of comforting girls are just tricks of scumbags; I don’t want to be like them." At that moment, I thought to myself that it was normal for a straight guy not to know how to comfort someone, and I could slowly teach him. The boy I liked would love me in his own way. The blindness of love made me completely overlook the obvious logical error in that statement. Until this moment. Last night, late at night around midnight, sharp pain in my lower abdomen jolted me awake from a rather unsettled sleep, shocking my nerves. Menstrual cramps. I was breaking into a cold sweat, curling up in bed in the hot summer, tightly closing my eyes, hoping that if I just held on, it would pass. The endless pain dulled my reason; this time, the intensity of the cramps seemed more severe than ever before. I struggled to get out of bed and, to avoid waking my roommate, stumbled around in the dark searching for ibuprofen. It should be fine now. I comforted myself with that thought. But the pain didn’t subside with the medication; in fact, I felt a churn in my stomach. In a hazy moment, I remembered the doctor's advice: it’s best not to take ibuprofen on an empty stomach and to take it half an hour before cramps start... The sound of me vomiting in the bathroom woke my roommate. She turned on the light, just as I was stepping out. She was startled by my state and nearly called for an ambulance, "Oh my God, your lips are so pale." She poured me a cup of hot water and waited with me until the pain slowly faded. When I woke up the next day, I momentarily felt as if I had been reborn. I hesitated for a long time, holding my phone, but I still wanted to tell Mingyuan about it. He was very busy with work and didn’t like being disturbed, so I didn’t dare call him and chose to send a message instead. I was really feeling a bit unwell, wanting some comfort, even just from Chatime. As dusk approached, he finally replied. "What should we do?" "Go to the hospital." When I saw the message, my emotions were somewhat flat. At that time, there were a thousand kilometers between us, and I knew that distance made care seem pale and powerless. As a modern, independent woman, I also shouldn’t be that fragile. But he, it seemed, had never cared. He had never comforted me or offered much consolation. All of this, I had never taught him. By sheer chance, I scrolled back through our chat history. The time had always...
That night at the graduation farewell dinner, he had his new girlfriend, the campus beauty, in his arms while everyone around was teasing him to introduce me, his childhood sweetheart, to someone. He glanced over at me sitting in the corner and said to his group of friends, "This silly big girl has a face that looks like someone owes her money. Who would want her?" I shrank back into the shadows, afraid that others would see the tears I was suppressing. An ugly girl doesn't have the right to cry; that was the first lesson I learned when I became his childhood sweetheart.
Here's the translation of your text into English: "My stepson's son and I secretly had a romantic relationship for a while. It ended in a particularly ugly way. Later, when he was drunk, he cornered me in the bathroom and said, 'I’m just someone who loves being tortured; we’re meant to torment each other until we grow old. What are you going to do about it?'"
Here's the translation into English: "Participating in a variety show, my partner is a popular male star. During the escape room segment, I pretended to be scared and dove into his arms seeking protection. He snorted coldly and pushed me away: 'What are you pretending to be a weak woman for? You usually watch horror movies while eating, right?' I continued to lean into his arms: 'We're this familiar already, you don’t have to act like you're not interested in women. Just hold me tight; this is my new character setting.' 'Ex-girlfriend,' he suddenly stopped resisting, tightening his grip around my waist, 'are you trying to flirt with me?'"
Here's the translated text in English: --- My best friend’s younger brother is such a cocky guy. The first time we met, I accidentally walked in on him getting out of the bath, and he just tossed a shirt over my head. My friend tried to ease the situation: “This is my sister's beautiful friend, isn’t she pretty?” He shot me a cold glance and said sharply, “Really ugly.” Hmph, just a cocky guy, right? I’ll show you, big sister can handle this! After a period of caring for him with all my heart and little details… I gave up. He remained as arrogant as ever, even refusing to call me “sister.” Just two days after I gave up, he sent me a message for the first time— Cocky guy: Is this a case of pursuing by pretending to let go? Cocky guy: Sister. 1 I went to my friend’s house to drop off something and unexpectedly bumped into a handsome guy just getting out of the bath. He was tall and had long legs, with visible muscles, and the little fabric he had was barely covering essential parts. Before I could take a good look, I was covered by a shirt. My view was blocked, and only then did I realize what happened, unable to help but scream. My friend came out upon hearing the commotion. I pointed at the handsome guy, now wrapped in a towel: “Who is that?” My friend: “My brother.” Me: ?? Wait a minute, I remembered her brother as a short, dark kid! My friend turned to the handsome guy, trying to ease the awkwardness: “This is my sister’s beautiful friend, isn’t she pretty?” He coldly looked at me: “Really ugly.” After saying that, he turned and went inside. Me: … Wow, turns out he’s a cocky guy! Me: “How old is he?” My friend looked apologetic: “My brother… is twenty, and he went through his rebellious phase pretty late.” I stared at my friend and squinted: “As long as he’s of age.” My friend had a knowing smile and immediately sent me her brother's WhatsApp: “Help me put him in his place.” 2 The cocky guy's name is Mu Wang, he’s in his junior year at T University, and apparently, he’s quite a prominent figure at school. Indeed, he has the qualifications to be a cocky guy. I became even more interested and started “friendly” exchanges with Mu Wang on WhatsApp. Me: “Brother, wanna grab a meal together sometime?” Mu Wang: “Who are you?” Me: “Your sister’s friend, the one who bumped into you while you were getting out of the bath.” He didn’t respond for a long time. Me: “?!” !!?? That little brat deleted me? I quickly found my friend: “Your brother deleted me, hurry up and make him add me back!” My friend: “He doesn’t listen to me; you’ll have to talk to him yourself.” Me: “How can I talk to him when he’s deleted me?” My friend: “Do you play League of Legends? He’s playing ranked with his classmates tonight; I’ll give you my account.” Waaah, my good friend, I’m so grateful for you. That night, when I was on the mic in the game team and heard a voice that wasn’t my friend’s, Mu Wang’s classmate was surprised. “It’s not Mu Wang's sister, huh?” a soft-voiced boy asked, “Who are you, sister?” I softened my tone: “I’m Mu Wang’s sister’s friend…” “Oh, oh, can you support, sister?” “I can.” “Then just lay back; we’ll carry you.” I cried; what a treasure of a brother! Mu Wang is like nothing compared to this! I need to change my target! Then Mu Wang played as marksman, and I, as support, had to stick with him. Mu Wang: “Support, go check the bush.” I happily went over. Then I got gang-beaten by a bunch of big guys hiding in the bush and died. Mu Wang: “Support, don’t throw.” Me: ? Weren’t you the one who told me to check the bush? After that, similar incidents happened many times, and I seriously suspected that Mu Wang was trying to mess with me. --- Feel free to ask if you need anything else!
In their three years of marriage, Chelsea had been a dutiful wife to Edmund. She used to think that her love and care would someday melt Edmund's cold heart, but she was wrong. Finally, she couldn't take the disappointment any longer and chose to end the marriage. Edmund had always thought that his wife was just boring and dull. So it was shocking when Chelsea suddenly threw divorce papers at his face in front of everyone at the Nelson Group's anniversary party. How humiliating! After that, everyone thought that the formerly-married couple would never see each other again, even Chelsea. Once again, she thought wrong. Sometime later, at an award ceremony, Chelsea went onstage to accept the award for best screenplay. Her ex-husband, Edmund, was the one presenting the award to her. As he handed her the trophy, he suddenly reached for her hand and pleaded humbly in front of the audience, "Chelsea, I'm sorry I didn't cherish you before. Could you please give me another chance?" Chelsea looked at him indifferently. "I'm sorry, Mr. Nelson. My only concern now is my business." Edmund's heart was shattered into a million pieces. "Chelsea, I really can't live without you." But his ex-wife just walked away. Wasn't it better for her to just concentrate on her career? Men would only distract her—especially her ex-husband.
Everyone thought Lorenzo truly loved Gracie, until the day of their daughter’s heart surgery. To Gracie’s utter shock, Lorenzo gave the precious organ needed by their child to another woman. Devastated, Gracie opted for a divorce. Fueled by her need for revenge, Gracie joined hands with Lorenzo’s uncle, Waylon, and orchestrated Lorenzo’s downfall. In the end, Lorenzo was left with nothing and consumed by remorse. He pleaded for a reconciliation. Gracie thought she was free to move on with her life, but Waylon held her back in a death grip. “Did you think you can just walk out on me?”
After three loveless years, Neil's betrayal deeply wounded Katelyn. She wasted no time in getting rid of that scoundrel! After the divorce, she devoted herself to career pursuits. Rising to prominence as a top designer, skilled doctor, and brilliant hacker, she became a revered icon. Neil, realizing his grave mistake, tried in vain to win her back, only to witness her magnificent wedding to another. As their vows were broadcast on the world's largest billboard, Vincent slid a ring onto Katelyn's finger and declared, "Katelyn is now my wife, a priceless treasure. Let all who covet her beware!"
Belinda thought after divorce, they would part ways for good - he could live his life on his own terms, while she could indulge in the rest of hers. However, fate had other plans in store. "My darling, I was wrong. Would you please come back to me?" The man, whom she once loved deeply, lowered his once proud head humbly. "I beg you to return to me." Belinda coldly pushed away the bouquet of flowers he had offered her and coolly replied, "It's too late. The bridge has been burned, and the ashes have long since scattered to the wind!"
Sandra Hill, the long-lost real heiress of the Hill family, was shunned by her own kin. Instead of embracing her, they bestowed their affection upon an impostor. They even arranged her to marry a vegetative man in place of her so-called “sister”. Sandra sneered, refusing to put up with this humiliation, cut off ties with the Hill family immediately and ran into the flash marriage with Wesley Cooper, her unconscious billionaire husband. With her incredible medical skills, she defied the odds and revived him. Little did she expect that her husband spoiled her with all his love... A medical genius, a computer prodigy, a national treasure in painting, and a racing legend... Her husband revealed her various identities, leaving the Hill family regretful. Her father came pleading, "It's Dad's fault. Please come back." Her mother wept, "Mom will protect you from now on. Please come back." Even her five brothers knelt before he, begging for forgiveness. Yet, Sandra's smile held a hint of mockery as she vowed, “Never!”
Sophia Drake braced herself for the worst when she was forced to move across the country in the middle of her junior year. Desperate to escape her shattered home as soon as she turns eighteen, her plans are disrupted by the enigmatic and captivating Ashford twins. Sophia can't fathom the intense attraction she feels for the twins and tries to avoid them at every turn. As she's thrust into an unfamiliar world, her past demons resurface, making her question her true identity. Will Sophia flee from her past's secrets, or will she embrace her destiny and take control of her future?