Bitter Love Novels & Stories

One that comes from the heartaches of betrayal. Her voice cut through the silence, heavy with betrayal and bitterness. “I sacrificed my friendship with her for you, Vincent. I was hated, insulted, and cursed for stealing you from my best friend! Yet I didn’t care, because that is how much I loved you. And this is what I get in the end? You cheat on me like this? Really?” Hatred colored every word and every breath. It was all over her face, so raw and ugly — and somehow, I loved watching it. She was finally tasting her own medicine. I didn’t understand why she found it so bitter when it was her turn to taste it.

She was brewing Jasmine tea in our kitchen like it could fix all troubles in my little world. She used to cool the cup with two spoons of honey. “Sip, little dumpling,” she’d murmur, and my name in her mouth made me feel invincible. The tea was honey-sweet, with a bitterness that only arrived after the second spoon. I thought that was what love tasted like—warm up front, bitter sweet in the afterthought. Years later the bitterness got a diploma and a label: tincture, solution, microdose. But back then it was just a flavor that made me stronger in all the ways I couldn’t name.

He said. I glared at him then, all the cheesiness gone, before pushing him away from me. "Just so you know, I'm not sharing this cake with you." I said, picking up the delicious cake. "Sadly, this lazy-ass person loves chocolate more than you." He rolled his eyes before looking up at the sky. "One day your heart will only be mine, Anderson." It already was. 

She asked her, and she got silent thinking about all the moments she has spent with him. Most people will tell you that there is nothing like love-shove. “Just a few months of drama, and then you just cry,” they will tell you with no sense of sadness. But is it really true? Do they really believe that love does not exist? Here is the harsh reality. We all know that love is the most beautiful emotion. We all know that nothing touches your soul like true love. But when you don’t get that real love, we become bitter about it in our subconscious. I am not calling people liars or fake. No. They are just burning from what they thought was love. And those flames of regret, those flames make them bi

I insert a joke to lighten the situation since I did just reject his proposal. "I love you, Eve." "No you don't. That's just lust." I kneel in front of him when he refuses to stand, so we can talk face to face. "Look," I touch his right arm softly, where the tattoo used to be, "You don't have my name anymore. Because you hate me. What we have right now is just lust. You lust me, Augustine. You don't love me. This is the after-effect of sex." "So it's a no?"

His muscles were solid beneath my fingers, rock solid, and his grip on me tightened as he tried to control the shaking of his hands through shallow breaths. I felt the burn of tears as I sat there, completely powerless to stop whatever was going through his mind. He could be remembering anything, any horror, and there was no way I could stop it. I had been there so many times already and it had ripped my heart apart each and every time. But I wouldn’t leave. Love was stronger than hate. Whatever hate was locked inside his body and whatever hate was burned into his mind, I knew our love could push it out. I believed in the power it gave us.

The pain in my heart grows and grows until it’s finally replaced with bitterness and hatred. A burning hatred for Mason Lachlan.

Chapter 53: Bitter Entanglement Alain's Bedroom, The Salt Mill Tavern, Fifth And Main, Boylesten, England (1763)... A rolling storm had been of no consequence to the two young lovers coupled inside the room at The Salt Mill Tavern, on Fifth and Main. The noises within had been thankfully drowned out by the crackle of thunder and the flashes of lightning had been of no issue to two people who needed only their bodies enmeshed to adhere to their most basic of carnal needs. The frequent moans that escaped the pinked lips of the young redhead peasant filled the room as the occasional grunts and groaning from the handsome young noble lad hard at work drilling his impressive appendage inside the t

The raw pain in his voice when he spoke of my hatred for him sent a pang through my heart. I was about to call out to him, my voice hanging on the tip of my tongue, but he continued, his voice tinged with bitterness, "Well, I don't blame you. Mostly, everyone hates me. The few ones that show me love end up leaving me or asking for something in return for the love they've shown me." He chuckled, but it was a bitter, humorless sound, a defense mechanism to mask his inner turmoil.

Evey. I curled the corner of my lips slightly. "I've told you many times that my father wasn't that kind of person. "If you had believed me from the beginning, we wouldn't have ended up like this. "But you never did, didn't you? Anyone could easily manipulate you to hurt me..." I paused and asked Chase, "Do you love me?" Chase's Adam's apple bobbed, and tears were welling up in his eyes. "Yes. I love..." 'How disgusting.'