Anxious People Novels & Stories

After failing my conquest mission, I trade my ability to feel in exchange for a ticket back to my home world. Two years later, the system summons me, citing an emergency. It tells me that my old conquest target, Caspian Stone, tried to destroy the entire world just to see me. I turn that request down immediately. Even if I've already lost my ability to feel, rationally speaking, I do not want to be with someone who has hurt me before. The poor system is so anxious that it keeps naming condition after condition. In the end, it agrees to let me stay with Caspian for only three months. In return for my cooperation, once I return from Caspian's world, not only must be the system restore my ability to feel, but it must also pay me a huge sum of money that comes from legal sources and has already gotten taxed. But when I return to Caspian's side as an emotionless robot, he goes deeper down the path of lunacy.

On Children's Day, the most popular social media post is about me. The caption is: "Mr. Shane Norton spends his birthday with his son David Norton and his first love, Ruth Feynman. Has he finally decided to divorce Ayla Sanderson?" I quietly press the "like" button. When my phone rings, I'm in the midst of taking down the balloons I put up for our wedding anniversary. "Honey." My husband sounds anxious as he tries to explain himself. "David suddenly insisted that we go to a theme park, so I—" In the background, I hear David laughing. "Dad, Ruthie says that I can sleep with her tonight!" I look at the mess in the house. The balloons are drooping, and the cream on the cake is congealed. "You don't have to explain," I hear myself say. "I understand." It's just that this time, I don't want you or David any longer, Shane.

Georgia Pearce is a typical teenage girl, anxious to find her place in the world when she encounters Hayden Ryder, the enigmatic new student at her school. She is captivated by his beauty and aura despite his fierce temper. At first, he seems to despise her but is then inexplicably drawn to her too. What Georgia doesn’t know is that Hayden has a chilling secret, a beast that lurks within him. Ignoring the signs, she falls deeper in love, unaware of the danger she faces. Mysterious deaths begin plaguing her town as Hayden’s behavior grows more unpredictable. Could he be the one to blame for all the killings? Georgia’s need to protect herself is overwhelmed by her instinct to stay by his side. She refuses to give up on him, believing that her love will be enough to tame the monster inside Hayden. Is she just naïve, or more capable of protecting herself than anyone realizes? Does Georgia’s love for Hayden prevent her from seeing a simple truth, that loving someone like Hayden walks hand in hand with her doom?

She won't take him back--no matter what. Or will she? Hayden Jenkins has lived in her hometown of Missoula, Montana, ever since she was born. She loves a simple life surrounded by her loving family, and that seems to be everything she needs. Or so she thinks. When her oldest brother’s wedding approaches, she fears facing a ghost from her past, the one who left her heartbroken seven years ago—Spencer Bailey, Hayden’s former high school sweetheart and the man who made her pretty much give up on real love. After graduation, Spencer left Montana to pursue a career in music in Los Angeles, which ended the relationship between Hayden and Spencer. They never spoke with one another again. Until now. Spencer's return leaves Hayden uneasy and anxious, still unprepared to face him after so long. Will it bring back unresolved feelings? Will they be forced to confront their past? Or will it be a second chance to rewrite their love story?

I return to the country after attending an international anesthesia academic conference. That's when I see the news of my boyfriend and twin sister getting married. I'm anxious to verify its authenticity, but my sister drugs me and induces me. "A substitute's child will only be an unwelcome bastard even if it's born. I'm just helping it move on to a better life." Then, she slices me open with a scalpel. She gouges my womb out, causing me to die from significant blood loss. Meanwhile, my boyfriend believes her lies. He's sure he's not the father of my child. He ignores my messages begging him to save me. Instead, he spreads the word about me eloping with someone else. He even wipes all traces of me from his life. "I will never see her again, forever and ever." Five years later, surveillance footage of my sister cruelly murdering me surfaces.

{ Eros } I knew Saint Claude was hiding something the second I locked eyes with him, but I never imagined it could be this: supernatural powers and the ability to shift into a huge wolf that likes to cuddle me. Being born into the mafia world made me paranoid, anxious and clingy. So, having a ‘fated mate’ who is stronger than regular men, can run faster than regular men, can heal a bullet wound in a matter of minutes and who was born to literally only ever love me… that’s exactly what I needed. Someone who is obsessed with me to an unhealthy degree and who will never ever die on me. Even if Saint refuses to accept me as a mate because I’m a man. Even if he ONLY likes me when his wolf presence is out. Even if he says he hates me and he keeps repeating he is NOT gay. That werewolf is fucking mine and I’m keeping him by my side forever. On a leash if I have to.

My roommates have booked booth seats at the New Year Countdown Light Show at the price of five thousand dollars per ticket. Soon, they begin urging me to transfer them my share of the payment on the group chat. I just send them a screenshot of the remaining balance in my bank account. "You guys have fun. I'm still saving up for my college tuition fees." Everyone just spams me with laughing messages instead. One of my roommates, Zane Lawson, even uploads a screenshot of our conversation to his social media feed together with a caption that says, "The first step of ascending to the next tier in social hierarchy is to stay away from party poopers like this." But as soon as 12:00 am is over, my roommates send me a photo of the light show. "It's such a shame that you aren't here." I'm still confused by the photo when I receive a phone call from the counselor, who sounds very anxious over the phone. "Did you buy tickets for your roommates to the light show? The organizers claimed that they never checked in at the entrance! Now, they've gone missing!"

I was setting up a weekend shopping list on the tablet my husband had just replaced for our home system. A notification popped up. He had forgotten to log out of a shared, encrypted family calendar— one I didn’t recognize. There was only one unfamiliar profile photo. I tapped it. A list titled “My Little Princess – Personal Notes” filled the screen. My Little Princess doesn’t drink alcohol—only mineral water or herbal tea. No late nights. She needs absolute quiet to sleep. She gets anxious easily—keep fresh white lilies in the house and her favorite vanilla chocolates on hand. I scrolled slowly, my expression unreadable. The final entry was bolded. Highlighted. “Next Wednesday: take my Little Princess to choose her wedding crown.” I closed the screen. Then I picked up my phone and called my husband. “Love,” I said gently. “Does your Little Princess prefer a classic European bridal crown… or something more traditional? I thought I could help you choose.”

One of my roommates at the dorm was a competitive person. Whenever I studied, she would be anxious. If I opened a package, she would ask me what I was buying. She would also pressure me to tell her my whereabouts. There was even a time when I turned in my bed, she suddenly opened my divider curtain and asked me if I was secretly studying. I was literally going to go insane, but our nonchalant counsellor told me that I was overreacting. After that, I failed to secure a postgraduate position, but she managed to study overseas. When she returned, she became my supervisor. She told everyone she met that I was a very competitive person, and she kept assigning a lot of tasks for me to do. In the end, I died from overworking. When I opened my eyes again, I saw her get into my bed. I recorded the sound of pages flipping and turned on the night light. I played the recording for the entire night. If she wanted to be anxious and lose her sleep, so be it!

Eight months into my pregnancy, my husband finally makes time from his police duties to go to a prenatal checkup with me for the first time. The moment we step into the hospital, his satellite-encrypted phone buzzes urgently. The caller ID flashes briefly, and just like that, the man who's always calm and collected panics. "Honey, it's a red alert. Another international fugitive just crossed the border. I… I'm sorry…" He's clearly anxious, yet his tone is firm, leaving no room for argument. After apologizing, he rushes off. As I watch his SUV speed out of sight, my fist clenches tightly, crumpling the prenatal checkup sheet. I flag down a cab, slide into the car, and swiftly instruct the driver, "Follow that car. Don't lose it." A Red Notice for a fugitive? What a joke. My father, who works at the National Security Agency, barely catches wind of a notice like that. Yet, somehow, a mere police chief who only assists with cases is suddenly tasked with catching a high-priority criminal. Fine, then. I can't wait to meet the superior who's given him such an urgent assignment.