Bittersweet A Novel Novels & Stories

They finished the rest of their chocolate in silence and soon, Sylvia retired to her room, leaving Brett to continue with whatever he wanted to do. In her room, sleep completely eluded her and she knew she wouldn't be getting any sleep so soon. Sylvia decided to read the book she had become so invested in. That book had brought her so much pain and sadness and an odd sense of hope she couldn't quite understand. It was a bitter sweet combination, one she was finding hard to understand. ''Let's see what you have for me today.'' Sylvia smiled.

Grainne's face is contorted and miserable like a chrysanthemum, after all, the taste What flavor is that? When drinking, it is deadly bitter, flowing through the throat, it has a sweet taste. But that sweetness was nothing compared to the slightly bitter taste in her mouth right now. To distract from this horrible story, Grainne reached for a magazine and continued reading. Looking at the words in the newspaper, it's strange how they know how to dance and no longer line up neatly. Her mind gradually became hazy, her eyelids heavy, and she desperately wanted to sleep. You really don't understand, I just got out of bed, didn't I?

Each thrust was so painful with the pressure that grates her soul, making her fall into the grip on her throat. With regret for those last words she said, her life slowly drained out of her body. Her body limped but held in place by the couch. He could feel her death, still, he didn’t stop. A mind preoccupied with Sarah. It felt good, beyond a worldly pleasure to have her limp on his hand–not Britney, Sarah. Hours later, the maid came knocking on his bedroom door with a tray of coffee in her trembling hand. The dark, shiny wooden door is hell's entrance.

It was truly a sacred place. I plopped myself down on the wooden chair and buried my head on the burrow I made with my arms on the table. I sighed deeply, not understanding the pain and supreme tiredness I was feeling. Pain and tiredness wasn't new to me but this was particularly different. I grabbed my favourite book, Othello by Shakespeare and sat, running my hand along the spine of the book. I opened the book and it landed on a page that I had a left a note in. I skimmed the page, reading the parts I had highlighted with a light blue highlighter. I took the note and read it:

As she tasted the bitterness, her entire body trembled lightly. Initially, the bitterness he felt from the medicine! It seemed to be nothing compared to the pain she brought him. The bowl of medicine... was quickly finished. Irwin clearly felt what kind of bitterness a bowl of medicine could bring to a person. That was far beyond what one could taste with just one sip. A whole bowl of medicine allowed one to know what the bitterest taste in the world truly was. He held Natalie gently in his arms, gently pressing his nose against hers. Their breaths intertwined as they silently sat there.

An enormous man named Nate Bitters: rotund, flamboyant, versed in several world languages as head of the library’s Collections Department, and sole witness to the hit-and-run that took his wife’s life. Mr. Nate Bitters, an odd duck he was, or so they liked to whisper around town. Odder yet since his disappearance. One minute he’s giving a quick, jittery account of what he saw to the authorities, and the following day—abracadabra—he’s gone. Smoke in the wind. No messages, no traces, nothing. Gone, like an obese Harry Houdini. What in the hell?

She was curious about how he ended up married to his cousin’s ex-harpy, somehow being high school sweethearts did not seem like enough of a reason. Milli sighed, bundling Emily up against the cold; she worried about the old lady’s increasingly unsteady gait. Arthritis couldn’t be the only cause. It seemed like Aunt Elizabeth was always needing her to come over and do this little thing or that. As Milli straightened the straight tree, she gave her old aunt the side eye while Elizabeth showed Emily the pretty lights. The entire Bed and Breakfast looked like the Spirit of Christmas had exploded inside its centuries-old walls. The blinking lights in every corner reminded Milli of Vegas and for a

and Aiden’s watching her with that same unreadable expression something tight and careful behind his eyes. something i cant name. my stomach twists.the noise in the room dulls.i take a slow sip from my glass even though the taste is all wrong— too sweet, too sharp like its gone flat the second it hit my tongue. i tell myself i dont care. that im just tired.that whatever flicker of ache is curling through my chest is leftover from the confrontation.

The butler saw her coming downstairs with the box and noticed her unhappy expression. He walked over curiously and asked in a low voice, "What's wrong?" "Take everything in this box and burn it into ashes. I don't want these things appearing in front of him ever again and making him unhappy. Do you understand?" Author's Note We've officially reached Chapter 30! Thank you so much for reading, voting, commenting, and staying with this story. Writing this book has been an emotional journey for me, and seeing your support keeps me motivated to continue.

she was nodding her head as she turned around, and was almost running to her room. I had expected a heated confrontation with that woman, not a dramatic argument with her brother. The thing was, it was none of my business, but seeing her look so sad brought a strange pang in my chest. Damn. I was becoming soft. This was expected, being around women, especially my little sister, Carrie, whom I thought I would never see nor touch again; she grew fiery but delicate. Fate had its twisted way of bringing pieces together, and Asher's life was forever changed. The latter was so in love I swore he'd crawl on his knees if Carrie ordered him to. Having said that, I was happy for them. *