All The Things I Never Said Book Novels & Stories

Instead I stood there, trembling, because the most dangerous thing a man like him could ever do was speak those words without hesitation. “This is not a choice you are allowed to make,” I whispered. “Then why does it feel like one I have already made?” I broke then. Not loudly. Not dramatically. Just enough for the truth to slip through the cracks. “Because I love you,” I said, barely audible. “And loving you will ruin me.” His expression softened into something unbearably tender. He reached for me—not roughly, not desperately—but as though I were something he feared might vanish if he did not anchor me to the world.

And everything changed. *You weren't supposed to happen. Weren't part of any plan. You were. Are. The best thing that's ever happened to me.* *I changed the book because I wanted to write about what we had. Not to exploit it. But to. To capture it somehow. The beauty. The connection. The way you saw me.* *I should have asked permission. Should have told you. I know that. I have no excuse except fear.* *Fear that you'd say no. Fear that you'd think I was using you. Fear that I'd lose you before I had you.*

He strode over towards me, and yet again, I wasn't able to move away. "I think it's time we talk about why I'm really here," he said suddenly. "Agreed," I said curtly, not wanting to give too much away. "I read your book again. I have some notes," "Oh? You do?" I narrowed my eyes at him. That wasn't what I was expecting. "The ending for one, I didn't like it," "What didn't you like about it?" "The last line in the book was; 'you, me, and never us'. That was just so fúcking depressing,"

everything. Every tool I never let myself want. Every luxury I taught myself to live without. Every inch of space I once forced into a corner now spread out in the open like I deserve it. I can’t move or speak. I just stand there, one hand slowly rising to my mouth as my chest tightens around something that’s not grief, not pain, but the echo of what it felt like to be denied this over and over again. “This is...” I whisper, unable to finish.

"Do you remember the year your mom passed away? We were seniors, and you said you had no home anymore. I held you that day and said I would marry you one day. We'll have children with you and give you a home again. Alan, I came to keep my promise." Outside the window, white funeral memorial ribbons drifted down in the wind. I suddenly felt dizzy. I was so furious I could faintly taste the blood in my throat. I knocked the velvet box to the floor. The ring, worth tens of thousands, rolled away and disappeared into some hidden corner.

Let me take you out to Fontaine's tonight to make up for it, okay? I did not correct her. My parents had chronic health conditions, and that gift box was one I had carefully chosen from the only vendor that carried it. It was not something available just anywhere. I did not remind her, either, that I did not like Fontaine's. I had already told her this many times. She did not care, and she never would. Bringing it up again would only earn me another lecture about being difficult and dramatic. None of it mattered anymore.

But the fear that had been gnawing at her for days pushed her forward. She opened the book. The first pages were cold, filled with business notes and travel schedules. But as she flipped forward, the handwriting changed—it became jagged, frantic, and deeply personal. Her eyes landed on a single sentence near the end: Some ghosts don’t stay buried because they were never dead. A chill crept down her spine, turning her blood to ice. Before she could process the words, the lights throughout the estate flickered once, buzzed, and died. The house fell into absolute, suffocating darkness.

"That's why it's only right for you to be scared, sweetheart." Ivory felt her heart sink into an abyss at his words. In novels, the female protagonist would meet a better man after leaving the male protagonist. Then, a new chapter of her life would begin. However, reality wasn't the same as novels. It would only turn out to be worse. If that were the case, she didn't want to put up an act anymore. She threw caution to the wind and said, "I was a little scared when you first came in, but I'm not anymore.

I pick it up, and there's the letter 'A' written in bold on the back. I sigh as I tear it open. I pull out the card and read the words on it. (I'm coming back to return to place, what should have been.) “You are not giving up yet, are you?“

I remembered—crystal clear—the day he had once warned me, "Home? This will never be your home. Don't be stupid. My pack and villa have nothing to do with you." After that, I stopped using the word "home". "Ryan, I'm not that naive. You never loved me." His face paled. "That's not true. I didn't realize it before, but I do now. I'll love you properly this time. I'll announce us to the world and mark you for real. I've already fallen for you. Come back with me." I tilted my head, puzzled. "And what does that have to do with me?" Before Ryan could answer, another voice cut through the air.