Belahan Jiwa Novels & Stories

Sophia couldn’t sleep that night. The email lingered in her mind, its contents replaying over and over, each word etched in her memory. She lay in bed beside Ethan, listening to the steady rhythm of his breathing, trying to draw strength from his presence. But the unease gnawed at her, refusing to let her rest.

“We are inside you.” Ava went still. Her breath caught in her throat as if her body had forgotten how to continue. “Inside… me?” she repeated slowly, as though the words were too large for her understanding. The other Ava nodded once. “Not physically. Not the way you understand it. This is what remains when a mind that was split begins to reassemble itself. This is your inner structure, the place where everything you are was stored, hidden, and divided.” Ava stumbled back a step, shaking her head in disbelief. “This is insane… I feel like I’m disappearing, like I’m losing pieces of myself instead of becoming whole.” The other Ava shook her head gently again. “You are not disappearing. You ar

I felt the split begin. It did not hurt like tearing flesh. Flesh would have been mercy. This was finer. Meaner. It found the places where love had become memory and memory had become identity, then slid a clean blade between them. Leo in my womb became weight. Leo in the archive became light. And I could not hold both. A broken burst of static cracked through the beam. "Aria..." Kael. His voice arrived as a failing signal from somewhere inside the Citadel, thin with pain, dragged over broken glass.

It served as a nexus of knowledge, wisdom, and support, guiding souls on their cosmic pilgrimage of self-realization and facilitating the exchange of profound experiences and insights. The essence of Luna's memoir transcended its written form, transforming into an ethereal resonance known as the "Luna Harmonics." This celestial resonance carried the eternal wisdom of enlightened beings, imbued with the vibrational frequencies that attuned seekers to their authentic essence. The Luna Harmonics became a cosmic symphony, guiding souls on their infinite journey towards self-discovery and illuminating the path to their highest truth.

“You’ve felt it, haven’t you? The pull between them. The way one half of your soul aches for the light, and the other craves the dark. You think it’s love, but it’s more than that. It’s destiny remembering itself.” I wanted to scream, to deny it—but she wasn’t wrong. There were nights when I’d wake and feel both marks burning, like two hearts beating inside me that weren’t mine. “So what am I supposed to do?” I asked, my voice shaking. “How do I stop this?” She smiled faintly. “You can’t stop balance. But you can choose how it ends.” Her hand lifted, pressing lightly against my chest. “You must learn to wield both halves, not as enemies—but as one. Only then can you rewrite the cycle. Only t

A knowing that bypasses thought and settles directly into my cells. Imbalance. The word isn't spoken. It's felt. A recognition that the struggle I've been sensing isn't just the baby fighting the imposed bloodline. It's a fundamental disruption of natural order. The ritual didn't just lie, it broke something. A connection that should exist, a balance that should be maintained, has been shattered. And I'm the only one who can feel it.

Banished to a desolate region, he perished by the roadside. As for Marcus, once a proud scholar, he reverted to his former state of idiocy, wandering the streets as a target of mockery and humiliation from all who saw him. But this time, there was no kind-hearted astral to grant him the Heart of Astral Clarity. In the end, I completed my tribulation, severed all ties of mortal love, and was bestowed the title of "The Heartless Astral."

But no matter how much I screamed, I couldn’t drown out the echoes of their laughter in my head. "Oh, foolish Brenda," I muttered, letting out a choked laugh. Through my tear-blurred vision, something on the wine bar caught my eye. A bottle of whiskey. Jeremy, my little brother, must have left it the last time he visited. I never liked alcohol. I had never even tasted it. I thought it smelled too strong, that it would burn my chest. But tonight, none of that mattered.

I wanted us to have that nice balance where we were a couple and spent plenty of time together but were apart enough to still maintain our own identities and not just become this fused entity that never spent a minute apart. I ate the food left for me, actually feeling better once I did. When Barb and John got up to get ready to head to the diner, I followed suit. I couldn’t hide away from it forever and it might actually be good to talk to someone, especially since I had all of those pictures to start working on this afternoon. I knew working on them would be a constant reminder of what happened, especially since I would basically be reliving the entire night through those photos.

“Then it demanded sacrifice—because it believed pain would make us brittle.” Ronan’s grip tightened slightly. Selene felt it in her bones, felt the storm in him recalibrate. “And we didn’t break,” Selene said. “No,” Mirra agreed. “Which means it will stop trying to split us down the middle and start trying to rot the edges.” Selene’s stomach sank. “Rot the edges.” Mirra finally turned back, her expression calm in the way people got when they were speaking about something they’d already accepted as inevitable. “Exhaustion. Hunger. Desire. Grief. Anything that makes the mind less precise. Anything that makes the body loud.”