Blaming Myself Novels & Stories

My wife's first love broke into our home and killed me. Yet my wife, one of the world's top defense attorneys, stood in court to secure his acquittal. She insisted that the entire incident was nothing more than an act I had staged myself—a desperate attempt to win her attention. She even appeared at my funeral. Pointing at my coffin with open disgust, she sneered, "You'd stoop this low just to get my sympathy? Stop pretending and come out right now to apologize to Marvin."

Kade Blackwell, the black sheep of the family, the one who had gone to jail after murdering his own father in cold blood. How did I find myself entwined with him when I was married to his brother, Adrian, the perfect twin, the future of the family. But my whole world turned around when I realized I was pregnant with Kade after a one-night stand while still married to his brother, and now realizing that Adrian was plotting to kill him, I became torn in-between two brothers, not sure which side to take.

I find myself looking for a job, stuck between a rock and a hard place as I scroll through the 'now hiring' pages on jobsforyou.com. A few sound interesting... but none hold my attention, that is until I see it... NOW HIRING MAID! Must be willing to work and live on site. I click apply now. I have no place to live anyway. I am sat here at the library just hanging by a string. As soon as I hit submit application, I feel a rock in the pit of my stomach. What did I just do?

I was twelve when Henry Shaw took me home from the orphanage, gave me a new name, put me through school, and gave me a good life. Ten years later, his first love returned from abroad. Her name sounded like mine, and her face looked like a mirror image. I quickly realized I had been a stand-in all along. Crushing the diagnosis in my pocket, I decided that I was going to live the rest of my life for myself, even if I did not have much time left.

After everything I have done for my husband, my cheating husband. He divorced and left me brutally for his pretty ex-girlfriend. This isn't the life I want for myself, I want to love and be loved. He lost me, yes, he lost me to everything good. Infidelity is a barrier to any marriage, and I'm not going to stay tamed, trying to cover my pains when I have a life worth living. I have signed the divorce papers and left with nothing, but one thing is sure… He will regret it soon!

After I became mentally challenged, my godmother, Fenelle Porter, took care of me personally. She not only massaged me and helped me exercise, but she also never resisted my touch. My godfather, Sam Porter, took advantage of my situation and was always intimate with Fenelle in front of me. Little did they know that I had already recovered. While Fenelle and Sam were video chatting, and she was using toys to pleasure herself during the video call, I put myself into her. Sam was completely unaware all along.

“I don't want any trouble, Easton.” She breathed. But he only stepped closer, running his fingers on her cheeks slowly as a smirk stretched the side of his mouth, “Well, that's too damn bad because I want to see you in trouble. I want to see you in pain until you're nothing but a shell in a body.” Tears rolled down her cheeks as she held back a sob, her throat was dry as she asked the question that was burning in her chest, “Do you hate me that much?” Seeing her tears made something in him shift but he quickly recovered. He took a few steps back and tucked his hands in his pockets before finding her gaze again, “That would make me too kind. What I feel for you isn't hate, Scarlet. It's deeper than that, but most importantly, I want to make you pay for ruining my life and taking my brother from me.” ……….. They say opposites attract, and for them, it was love at first sight. But love wasn’t enough to keep them together when fate tore them apart. She left him, convinced it was the only way to protect him. He believed she abandoned him out of cold-heartedness, and love for money. Blaming her for his brother’s tragic accident. For five long years, he’s harbored a fierce bitterness, a desire for revenge so intense it’s reshaped him, hardening his heart to ice. Now she’s back—stronger, wiser, but still haunted by the shadows of their past. And he’s waiting, ready to make her pay for what he believes she stole from him. She takes his anger, thinking it’s because she left, unaware of the deeper wound that fuels his wrath. But what happens when the truth finally comes out?

Brandon Smith has flown for eight years. I've been with him since the time he was an assistant pilot, all the way until he successfully rose to the ranks as the head pilot. In the year Brandon's busiest with his career, I resign from my job and begin cooking according to his aviation schedule. Just once, I bring up the question, "Can you please show me the sight of being thousands of feet in the air in the near future? Just once, please!" Brandon continues eating from his plate. "The plane is a workplace, not an amusement park for you." I reply, "Okay." Since then, I never bring up that matter in front of him. That is, until I find myself suffering from insomnia one night. That's when I accidentally come across an encrypted photo album tucked away in Brandon's phone. There are over 40 photos in the album, all from his perspective as a pilot. There are seas of clouds, sunsets, double rainbows after a downpour, as well as the Milky Way in the night sky when the plane is over thousands of feet in the sky. Every photo has been sent to the same person with a bear's emoji as their name. The latest photo is a photo of the beautiful evening colors from three days ago. Half of the sun can be seen in the clouds. The caption that comes with the photo says, "Today's sky is still beautiful as ever. When you come over next time, you can take the observation seat on the right. It gives you the best angle of the sky." The bear emoji person responds with a hugging emoji and a short sentence. "Wait for me to go on my break." I put Brandon's phone back where it belongs without changing the password and deleting the album. Once the morning sun is up, I brew myself some coffee as usual before finishing it quietly. Then, I turn on my computer and book myself a flight ticket to Dalco. It's been eight years. Finally, I don't have to chase after Brandon's flight routes and wait for his mealtimes. I no longer have to stay in an empty house while guessing which flight destination he's headed to right now. Since Brandon's sky refuses to tolerate my presence, I shall move my roots elsewhere and watch the sunset on my own.

Right before the SAT, our scatterbrained airheaded group favourite, the school belle, Priscilla Ashford, volunteers herself to safeguard everyone's admission tickets. My firm refusal of her offer earns me the displeasure of my childhood sweetheart, Justin Kylemark. "You're picking on her again," he says. I ignore his rebuke. On the exam day itself, I personally double-checked every single admission ticket to make sure nothing could go wrong. However, the moment Priscilla gets hers from me, she burst into tears, claiming that I lost her ticket. Justin snatched my admission ticket and tore it to shreds. I run until my legs give out, barely managing to get it reissued before the bus leaves. However, my classmates all kicked me off the bus together. "You lost Priscilla's admission ticket. Do you think you deserve to sit for the exam?" They carry with them the exam prediction I had prepared for them. Thanks to that, they each achieve excellent scores. I have no choice but to repeat the year and become the top scorer. By then, Justin and my other classmates, who are already in prestigious universities and colleges, all return together. They produce fake evidence, accusing me of cheating in the exam. Unable to defend myself, a candidate who flunked the exam poured gasoline on me and set me on fire. When I open my eyes once more, I see myself handing the admission tickets over to Priscilla… except for my own.

The day I dissolved the mate bond, I called my childhood friend to pick me up. I had a bank card with barely any balance left, my phone, and the same clothes I had worn the day I moved into this house. That was everything I owned after all those years living in the pack. My mate, Derek Anderson, called to say I had left a few things behind. "Forget it. Just throw them away." He seemed reluctant to give up. "Your son keeps saying he wants to see you." I dragged my suitcase behind me and walked away without looking back. "Tell him he'll have a new mom soon. The one he's always wanted." Like father, like son. They even fell for the same woman. In the past, I would have asked myself, 'Why won't they even look at me? I've given them so much.' Now, I felt nothing. If they didn't love me, then so be it. I would let them go and let myself go in the process too. My childhood best friend, Eric Keaton, helped me with my luggage and opened the door of his Maybach. I said one last thing to my mate. "I won't ever disturb you and your son again." After a long time, he found me. He grabbed my arm like a madman and stared at me in despair. "Leah Sullivan, why don't you care about us anymore?"