Blur No Distance Left To Run Lyrics Novels & Stories

My dad has died in a car crash when I'm seven years old. So, my mom marries her first love, Robert Hayes, and integrates me into his family. During the first meal with my new family, Robert announces a newly instated family rule. "From now on, we have to split the bills in this family." Once I eat a piece of steak, Robert tells me to pay him 300 dollars for the meal. I just look at my stepsister, Harper Hayes, who's digging into her meal happily. "Harper ate steak as well. Why didn't you ask her to pay you back, Dad?" "That's because Harper's my biological daughter. I love her, and she has the bloodline privileges," Robert answers. Then, I glance at Mom. So, Robert adds, "Your mom is my wife. I love her, which means she has privileges as well. But in your case, we're not related by blood, nor do we have any ties of affection with each other. I'm not obligated to raise you at all, Maddie."

Before my parents died, they entrusted me to the most powerful vampire clan — the Vanderlooms. I married Jason, the heir, and spent ten years by his side — only to discover he'd gotten his vampire subordinate pregnant. He said I was just a human. That conceiving a vampire's child was nearly impossible for someone like me. That even if my parents died saving his life, it didn't mean I could hold on to the title of lady of the house forever. Vicky said she needed human blood for her pregnancy and demanded I serve as her blood thrall. Jason just watched with casual indifference. He didn't stop her. So I packed my bags and calmly handed him the divorce papers. He sneered. "That trick doesn't work anymore. You want to leave? Go ahead." "Give it a week. You'll come crawling back." But what he didn't know was that I'd already accepted another man's proposal. This time, I was done loving him for good.

On my wedding day with Jack Miller, he ran off with his first love As if to taunt me, he would send a photo of himself with her from every new destination they visited. I was getting a manicure and enjoying imported French pastries with my afternoon tea when I received their ninety-ninth photo. But after three years of absence, Jack suddenly returned. He pointed at my wedding photo with someone else and shouted, “How dare you fool around with another man while I was gone!" I couldn't help but laugh. "What other man? I've been married to my husband for three years now." "Jack, you didn't actually think I was waiting for you all this time, did you?"

After giving birth, I lost my beauty when I started adding weight in all the wrong places. Stretch marks. A soft stomach. Tired eyes. The same body that carried our child became the body my husband couldn’t stand to look at. “I can’t take you anywhere like this.” That was what Marcus Hawthorne my powerful, untouchable CEO husband said the night he stopped bringing me to events. The whispers followed after that. She let herself go. He deserves better. How embarrassing for a man like him. I heard them all. And Marcus? He never defended me. Instead, he grew colder, crueler and distant everyday. The same man I sacrificed my everything for made me feel like I was no longer worth loving. And when tragedy struck and I lost the only thing keeping me togheter —our child. I realized the bitter truth not only was I meant to grieve a failed marriage alone but a dead child too because Marcus didn't hesitate to replace us with his new family. And that was my breaking point. Determined to start all over I fled the country for my sanity. Worked on the body that once made me hate my reflection. Rebuilt the career I had abandoned for love. Became the successful woman I was always meant to be. Now, seven years later, I’m back. And guess who can’t take his eyes off me? Marcus. Only, he isn't the man I left behind. Haunted by a serious problem that only I can help him with he’s willing to do anything to get me back. But here’s the problem. The woman who would have forgiven him no longer exists. And the woman standing here now? Isn’t sure she wants anything to do with him ever again.

Word had it that the roses my mother-in-law Nancy and I planted on the back hill were in full bloom, so we decided on a whim to go see them. We never expected to be stopped at the entrance by a she-wolf caked in heavy makeup. "Do you even know where you are? This is no place for two low-ranking Omegas." "Look at you two — dressed like beggars. That's probably exactly what you are." Our good mood evaporated instantly. I shot her a look. "As far as I know, the back hill is public territory. Every member of the Silver Moon Pack is welcome here." "You have no right to block us." The she-wolf's eyes turned bloodshot with rage. "You pathetic little Omega — how dare you disrespect me!" "This mountain belongs to the Silver Moon Pack, and the Silver Moon Pack belongs to my mate." "If you know what's good for you, get on your knees and apologize. Then crawl out of my sight before I lose my patience." I glanced at Nancy. Her eyes burned with the same fury I felt. As the one and only Luna of the Silver Moon Pack's Alpha, I had no idea there was supposedly another Luna running around.

I was reborn back to 1975, when the child in my womb was three months old. I did not tell anyone and quietly had an abortion. However, I still wrapped cotton around my belly every day, pretending the baby was still there. In my past life, my husband Declan Huxley's childhood sweetheart Jane Patton and I gave birth on the same day. She had a healthy, ordinary baby boy. But my child looked nothing like us—he was mixed-race, with features of the Valorian people. Declan and I were both locals, so there was no way our son could look like this. Enraged, Declan scolded me in front of everyone, accusing me of cheating on him and having a disgraceful affair with a Valorian. No matter how many times I explained, no one believed me, and I became the shameful woman everyone pointed at. Worse still, Declan reported me and handed in some foreign letters he found at home, which led to me being taken by federal agents and sentenced as a spy. I spent ten years in prison, and when I finally walked out, I was nothing but skin and bones. Meanwhile, Declan had climbed the ranks for his so-called loyalty to the country. He held Jane's hand and brought along my real son, Seth Huxley, then threw 500 dollars at me like it was charity. He said, "Back then, Jane was accidentally deceived by someone else and gave birth to that brat. Unlike you, she has a gentle nature and couldn't endure hardship, so I had no choice but to switch your children. "This money is payment for your ten years and your reputation. You have a criminal record, and I already filed for divorce long ago to be with Jane. Seth also thinks you're not worthy of me, so you better take care of yourself." Seth also looked at me with disgust. "Mommy Jane treats me very well, and she's not like you; she's never been to prison. I don't want a mother like you!" When I learned the truth, the fury was so overwhelming that I had a stroke and died in despair. In this new life, I want to see how they plan to scheme against me when the child is already gone.

Two years after we marry, my husband moves his sister and her family into our marital home. The four of them settle down and refuse to leave. So, I quit both my jobs. I laze around at home all day and splurge on various things. I have so many parcels delivered that they pile up by the door. Occasionally, I ask my husband and his sister for allowance. When the management office sends someone to chase for our maintenance fee, my husband breaks down so loudly that everyone in the building can hear him. He asks me whether I've lost my mind—who will support the family if I don't work? How will we survive without money? Am I going to allow our family to starve? So, it turns out he does know that we'll starve without anyone generating income. Why does he and his sister stay at home and plot to take away all my money, then?

On the eve of my wedding, my fiance's first love, Sasha Green, ruined my custom-made wedding dress worth a fortune. The gown split open down the back. I had to crouch down and clutched my chest with both hands to keep myself from being exposed. She stood there holding a pair of scissors, looking at me with an innocent expression. "Anthea, I'm really sorry. I used a little bit too much force, and I accidentally ruined your dress. Please don't blame me." My fiance, Gary Dome, immediately went up to her and took the scissors from her hand. His voice was full of concern for her. "Why would she blame you? You were just trying to help trim some loose threads. If anything, it's her fault for being too fat, stretching the dress until it tore." Still crouching on the floor, I watched the two of them behave intimately. My gaze turned cold. The dress was ruined, and so was my dream. It was time to wake up.

Despite a decade of marriage, Simon never once shared my bed, claiming that he had pledged himself to ascetic practices and that it was beneath him. I thought that he suffered from some shameful ailment and guarded his secret like a devoted fool, until my birthday, when I came home to find him entangled with a brothel worker before the floor-length mirror. When I lunged forward in rage, he drove a shard of that broken mirror straight through my heart. When I awoke, I was gripping my phone, its screen illuminating a message Simon had just sent: [I’ll still give you a lavish wedding, but the marriage certificate? That belongs to her.]

Fedora Smith was done with love. Finished. Buried. Betrayal had ripped out her heart and torched it—her boyfriend of four years and her best friend of twenty-five caught pants down on the very anniversary sheets she gifted him. And their excuses? “You’re not attractive anymore.” “You took too long to marry him.” Fine. If love was a game, she was rewriting the rules. Now, she runs The Bridal Fix, an elite agency providing fake marriages for a steep price—rent-a-bride services for men needing to fool their families, secure an inheritance, or stage the perfect breakup. Fifteen weddings, fifteen divorces—no strings, no mess. Just business. Until Judah Carlstone. He hires her like the rest—one contract, one wedding, one payday. But Judah asks too many questions. Looks at her too long. And when he smirks and says— "Tell me, Fedora… how does it feel to say ‘I do’ and not mean it?" For the first time in years, she has no answer. Because this was never supposed to feel real.