Be Still My Beating Heart Book Novels & Stories

~*JUNE*~ What the fuck is wrong with my heart? Why can’t it stop beating so damn fast? Ever since I left Mr. Macaulay’s office, it’s been pounding against my ribs like it’s trying to break free. Each beat slams through my chest like a freight train barreling downhill, completely out of control, with no brakes and absolutely no signs of slowing the hell down. I swear to God, I’m starting to think I’m about to have a heart attack.

His heart was thumping rapidly inside his chest and for some reason Little Bee developed nostalgia over it. The man held her in his arms and spoke in an especially mellow tone, “I won’t let anything ever hurt you; you won’t regret trusting me.” Little Bee had no idea what got into him all of a sudden and neither was she paying attention to words; she buried her ears deeper into his chest and listened attentively to his beating heart. His heart went like ba- dump, ba- dump, ba- dump and ba- dump.

One heartbeat to center myself. I step through. And the world explodes.

my subconscious warned me . Walking back up to my room, I wore my sandals and rushed out of the house, making anyone suspect me is the last thing I want so I decided to go on a stroll, I came to a stop at the park and sat on a bench taking in the scene of some playing children with their parents and something tugged at my heart, " I can't wait to see my babies playing in park like this one day" . Taking note of every single thing a child did surprisingly kept me calm and took my mind of reality for a brief moment and those were one of my best moments. So guys tell me what you think, who is the male person working with Melissa? Send in your thoughts on the comment section 💖💖

I held onto my chest and took deep breaths. Fuck. This isn’t good. Why does my heart keep on beating like a hundred miles per hour?

Now, I intended to be as brutal as was needed to send the message across. With a steely determination, I rose from my seat, the torn pages of my father's record forgotten as I focused all my energy on the task at hand. Egging the stillborn to the final stages of her insanity. On my way to the library, my eyes caught sight of a small wooden box tucked away on a dusty shelf. Realizing it had been long, I approached the box and lifted the lid, revealing a grotesque sight: a still-beating heart, pulsating with a sickening rhythm inside an even smaller jar.

"Eleanor built half this family's fortune out of sheer will before anyone thought a woman could run a boardroom. She'll see through anything performed. Don't perform." "I wasn't planning to." "I know," he said. "That's why I think she'll like you." I hung up in my empty apartment, thirty-one pages of my new life on the kitchen table, and felt, for the first time in months, like solid ground instead of falling. I signed my name at the bottom of the final page that night, alone, my father's hospital room quiet three miles away, my mother's photograph propped against the salt shaker like a witness.

The gradual discovery of respect, then desire, then love so profound it transcended the physical. I won't leave without you, Alex insisted, his determination forming a brilliant anchor in the void. Always so stubborn, Sonia's thoughts caressed his. That's what I fell in love with first—your absolute refusal to accept defeat. In the medical bay, the monitors tracking Alex's heart suddenly registered a faint, irregular beat. "We have cardiac activity," the doctor announced, redoubling efforts. "Push one more milligram epinephrine." James stepped forward, hope flaring. "Alex?"

When I hung up with a clean click, my ears were finally at peace, but my heart felt heavy and stifling like it had been stuffed with cotton. The way Oliver cried kept flashing through my mind—tears and snot all over his face, gasping like a cat whose tail had been stepped on, and wiping his tears while screaming, "Don't go." Was he auditioning for a soap opera or something?

This time, I wasn't gonna let history repeat itself. This time, I was living for me. I said flatly, "It wasn't me, so why should I apologize?" My voice was steady and calm, not weak or scared. The room went still. For the first time, my parents and Audrey looked at me in shock and fear, as if they were surprised that the quiet rabbit they'd kept in a cage all these years had suddenly turned around and bitten them.