Amari Soul Reflections Of A Man Novels & Stories

No one was talking, we were both just staring at the sky, but it felt really peaceful and this moment is just too beautiful. “Hey, I noticed the book you were reading the other day too.” I said to catch his attention. He sat up and reached his hand to me, I took it and he helped me get up too. “The Art Of Eye Contact, was it? I’ve read that book too. What part are you on?” “That part when the male protagonist left his life in the city to chase after a girl who clearly doesn’t give a damn about him. It’s stupid, if you ask me.” He answered casually.

Then, Amari leaned in and kissed me softly on the lips, her warmth seeping into my soul like a beacon of hope in the darkness. "Take care of yourself, Antonio," she whispered, her voice barely above a whisper. "I will," I vowed, watching as she disappeared into the night. With a heavy heart, I turned and continued on my journey, knowing that the road ahead would be fraught with danger and uncertainty. But as long as I had Amari's love and support, I knew I could face whatever challenges lay ahead. And so, with renewed determination, I disappeared into the darkness, ready to embrace whatever the future held.

said Ami, trying to quell his anger. “Always, always like that. Do you know that you're not the only one who's right and always wrong? Do you know that you're not the only one depressed?" Ask Amar to make Ami come back. He turned back, looking at Amar with a distant look. “Then just say it. What makes you depressed?" Ami Ami, who knows Amar, challenges him. But Amar, who felt no wrong, only snorted and then turned around. He wanted to leave, but his words stopped him.

At that moment, I had felt a pang of regret, but I buried it deep within, masking it with arrogance. Now, as I sat in the solitude of my thoughts, I realized how blind I had been. Amaris was a remarkable woman, strong and resilient. She deserved better than the man I had become – a man driven by pride, power, and ambition. The very qualities that had once drawn me to her were the ones that had driven her away. My fingers traced the rim of my wine glass as I took a sip, the bitterness of the alcohol mirroring the turmoil in my heart. How could I have been so blind? How could I have let her slip away, believing she was merely a means to an end?

This one, though… this one had faces. This one had eyes. Liam’s tired and worn. Amara’s bright once, now dulled by betrayal that wasn’t hers to bear. By noon, Jordan couldn’t sit still. They drove to the café that used to be Amara’s haunt, hoping maybe by miracle she’d be there. She wasn’t. Just her art still hanging by the window, unnoticed. A small plaque beneath one of her pieces read: “We are not what they write about us.” The words hit like a confession.

"Amar- She pinched my lips shut. The void I had always sensed so often before had suddenly emerged within such close proximity, I swallowed my saliva. My soul nearly left my body for a second, it returned after seeing her pointed gaze that was glistening with fear. It was then that I came to my senses and once I did, I felt like an ass. She wasn't my co-worker, nor did she aspire to be in this line of work so me suddenly expecting her to sing must've made her feel burdened. After all, an introvert's greatest nightmare was suddenly being put on the spot. Still... I'm not asking Akemi. Definitely not. That only leaves her. Sorry Amara, but you'll have to do. I'm so sorry. I felt guilty but I h

Flawless, youthful, lovely. But Amaria knew better than to be deceived by her own illusion. Beneath that mask was that was Urmi face: sagging flesh, gray and wrinkled like old parchment, rotting like a corpse left too long in the sun. She was a carcass walking, sustained by black magic that had stripped away her humanity. A consequence she had embraced long ago. She had sold her soul without hesitation, and every time she looked at herself she remembered why. Because in the end, it would all be worth it. Her reflection grinned at her, “Just two months,” she whispered to herself. “Two months, and Damon will be mine. Forever.”

Ama wandered through the silent streets. A strange feeling settled over her. Not loneliness. Expectation. As though the city was waiting. In the center stood a massive circular plaza. At its heart rose a single monument. Not a statue. A mirror. Twenty feet tall. Framed in living vines. Its surface shimmered like liquid glass. Ama stepped closer. This time, her reflection did not appear. Instead... Countless faces emerged. Men. Women. Children. Old. Young. All smiling gently. Then, one by one...